Rise of the Wizards

By: Teufel1987

Fandom: harry potter

Summary: Voldemort's attempt at possessing Harry had a different outcome when Harry fought back with the "Power He Knows Not". This set a change in motion that shall affect both Wizards and Muggles. AU after fifth year: Featuring a darkish and manipulative Harry

Status: Completed

Fic type: Books/Harry Potter

Pairings/Main char.: Harry P.

Published: 2010-08-20

Last updated: 2014-04-04

Words count: 479,930

Chapters count: 51

Converted using www.FF2EBOOK.com
Date: 2020-11-30

1. Reflections

Disclaimer: As I took the pains in mentioning it in Be Careful... I do not own Harry Potter

Author's notes; I would suggest that you read my earlier work of fan fiction Be Careful What You Wish For before this as it is a part of this work of fan fiction.

Warning: this chapter, in fact this entire story may contain clichés. I know that for a fact and recognise it. You'll only be pointing out the obvious when saying that in a review. Oh, and everything takes place seven years after canon. i.e. canon Harry's fifth year was in 1995-1996 but in this AU, it is in 2002-2003.

Rise of the Wizards

Chapter 1

2010

Harry Potter contemplated life as he sat in his well appointed study in his ancestral manor. He occasionally took sips from a glass of firewhiskey that he held in his hand as he stared into the fire in front of him.

Just today he had started his morning off with a confrontation with his former friend Hermione Granger. Well, 'confrontation' was a bit of an understatement; it had been more of a blazing row than anything else.

Harry supposed it was a good thing that his office doors had a silencing ward embedded into them, automatically cutting off all sound the minute the doors were closed. Had it been a muggle office, the whole floor would have been able to hear the shrieking of that harpy; that was a fact that Harry was sure of. As it was Harry's ears still rang with the sound of her voice.

Was she always this shrill, Harry thought, or did living with the Weasley matriarch along with her twit of a husband improve her shouting ability?

Harry amused himself for a bit thinking of Hermione Granger sitting with Molly Weasley in one of those acoustic rooms and practising her vocals with Molly interrupting her with tips now and then ('no no, dear, you should modulate your A's like this ... add a bit more snap to the name there ...') before he sobered and his thoughts returned to the topic of the conversation.

The Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act, or as he liked to call it, the HPMCPA, (he still was getting used to having his name associated with anything much less important bits of legislature) was an important part of his plans for the wizarding world.

It was a wild idea, one cooked up by two lost sixteen year old former school rivals who were really feeling the pressure of the world on their shoulders, albeit for different reasons who had decided to get drunk just once to forget. To forget the bitter rivalry they once had, the fact that they were both pawns in opposing sides of a war that was really between two bitter manipulative old men who should have died long ago, a war that was never going to really end as long as one of those aforementioned old men lived, a war that would probably end the wizarding world's existence for good.

As such neither of them ever in their wildest dreams imagined that anyone would have ever been interested in their drunken ramblings, much less that the same person would have actually formed a coherent plan from them.

Then again, considering that the same person has managed the impossible and has successfully cheated death nearly seven hundred years ago, and still continues to do so, it really shouldn't have been so surprising.

He definitely had come far in his life. He no longer was the eleven year old wide-eyed child who saw Hogwarts as a haven from his abusive relatives, nor was he the same naive fifteen year old who only saw the world in black and white and was convinced that Dumbledore was always right.

Harry remembered exactly when everything had changed for him. The precise moment when he stopped being Dumbledore's pawn and had finally seen the world for what it was and what needed to be done;

2003

Harry's scar burst open and he knew he was dead: it was pain beyond imagining, pain past endurance –

He was gone from the hall, he was locked in the coils of a creature with red eyes, so tightly bound that Harry did not know where his body ended and the creature's began: they were fused together, bound by pain, and there was no escape –

And when the creature spoke, it used Harry's mouth, so that in his agony, he felt his jaw move...

'Kill me now Dumbledore ...'

Blinded and dying, every part of him screaming for release, Harry felt the creature use him again...

'If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy ...'

Let the pain stop, thought Harry ... let him kill us ... end it, Dumbledore ... death is nothing compared to this...

And I'll see Sirius again...

And as Harry's heart filled with emotion, the creature's coils loosened, the pain was slowly lessening. Bolstered, Harry pushed ... he thought of his parents, how they had with their dying breath tried to save him, how they also had, even beyond the grave done the same thing again years later.

He thought of Sirius again; how he had offered Harry a chance to be away from the Dursleys forever, a chance for a new life, and a link to his deceased parents, and the feeling in him swelled.

At the same time, in the Department of Mysteries, unbeknownst to the remaining combatants there, a locked door suddenly glowed brightly around the edges filling the entrance chamber with an intense yet soothing light.

The creature suddenly let go of Harry as he felt an intense rush of emotion that a small part of him recognised as love. Harry then found himself in a void full of a roiling white force. In front of him was a black mass surrounded by a force of green and red.

The Dark presence, which was the soul fragment of Voldemort's that was lodged in Harry's scar, had been kept at bay by the Light Blood Ward that Lily Potter had cast on her son. However, as with all forms of powerful Old Magic (Dark or Light) this ward was powered by a powerful emotion, which in this case was love.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore had inadvertently weakened this ward when he, not fully understanding the nature of the ward, had placed Harry in a home where he was hated at worst and treated with cold indifference at best. As these emotions were the opposite of Love, the blood ward had weakened very slightly. It was enough for the soul fragment to form a magical connection with Harry

It was due to this after all that Harry could speak Parseltounge and also wield a wand that was a brother of Voldemort's.

This ward then was further weakened even further when Voldemort had used Harry's blood to regain his body. Thus the bond between the soul fragment and Harry became a bit stronger.

However in an ironic twist of fate, by using Harry's blood, Voldemort had become a sort of Horcrux of Harry's.

When being possessed by Voldemort, the blood ward had temporarily fallen as, unbeknownst to Voldemort his mutilated soul had nearly connected with the fragment in Harry's scar. However, they were not successful as Harry had pushed Voldemort out.

Had Harry stopped at this point, the wards would have been restored by the power that he had accessed in the Love Room and his own magic.

But all of this was unknown to Harry as he gazed upon the black mass. He could feel the power rolling off it, sinister and yet strangely intoxicating. He didn't know how long he stood there looking at it, was it a few seconds, hours, days or decades? Time, it seemed, had come to a halt as he gazed at what was in front of him before he reached out ... forever changing the course of the wizarding world.

Harry could feel the wrongness of the presence of the mass in front of him and he knew that it had to go. At the same time, he could feel the power it held. It intoxicated him ... called out to the darkness in his very soul created by his less than happy childhood and the various encounters he had later on in his Hogwarts years ... and for the first time in his life, he listened.

The instant he came in contact with it, he felt the power rush into him. Immediately the dark presence that was enclosed within started fighting back, trying, in the process, to drain him.

But Harry wasn't dissuaded. He, with all of his considerable willpower, marshalled the newfound power within him and fought back. Harry also had a distinct advantage of a full soul, so the fragment of Voldemort's soul didn't really stand much of a chance. As the power flooded into him, it came with a cacophony of sights and sounds, disjointed memories and thoughts.

Just as Harry felt that he might burst from the influx of power and lose his sanity from all the foreign thoughts within his mind, it abruptly stopped. A bloodcurdling scream then shattered the abrupt silence as the malignant black mass in front of him disappeared.

Harry opened his eyes to find himself staring at the floor of the ministry atrium with a pounding head. The wet feeling on his forehead coupled with the coppery smell of blood and the pain in his scar told him that it had burst open and was bleeding. Harry then slowly and gingerly got to his feet using the wall for support.

As he got up, he absently noticed that a few wisps of a foul looking black smoke had come out of his scar. Disoriented, he barely noticed as Voldemort Apparated in momentarily and disappeared with a weeping Bellatrix right in front of the minister and half of the ministry.

Albus Dumbledore took a moment to look at Harry to ascertain whether or not he was alright before turning his attention to Fudge, who took that moment to stagger forward white-faced, escorted by the golden statues animated by Dumbledore followed by his equally white-faced Aurors and an appalled Amelia Bones.

'He was there!' shouted a scarlet robed man in a ponytail, pointing at the pile of golden rubble that was the remains of the animated statue of the wizard that had trapped Bellatrix a few moments ago. 'I swear it was You-Know-Who Mr. Fudge. He took that woman and Disapparated just now!'

'I saw him too Williamson' gibbered a white faced Fudge,

'He was right here! In the Ministry no less,' Fudge continued rambling for a bit, moaning at the state of the Fountain before Dumbledore got his attention.

Normally Harry would have felt glee and taken a vindictive pleasure at the look on the Minister's face as he was finally proven to be right and not as the Minister believed "a deranged attention seeking liar trying to destabilise the peace in the Wizarding World by inciting panic". But Harry was too tired to feel anything. The loss of his godfather hadn't sunk in and throwing Voldemort had been rather taxing on his magic.

So he watched tiredly as Dumbledore proceeded to rub the fact that he was right all along in his own subtle way into Fudge's face before all but ordering the Minister of Magic to send some of his Aurors to apprehend the Death Eaters captured down in the Department of Mysteries.

Dumbledore then took the head of a statue and turned it into a portkey to his office (much to Fudge's impotent displeasure) and gave it to Harry.

Harry numbly took the portkey, and, feeling a familiar jerk behind his navel was whisked off to the Headmaster's office in Hogwarts, where his faith in Dumbledore would be further broken.

Harry stumbled out of Dumbledore's office about an hour later, his mind a swirl of many different emotions; chief among which was anger, grief and shock followed by a deep sense of betrayal. Just a few minutes back Dumbledore had seen fit to finally open up to Harry and tell him things he ought to have known much earlier. Suffice to say, Harry was not pleased with Dumbledore's earlier reticence.

At least it was a good thing that Dumbledore had taken nearly half an hour to come and then turn his world upside down, Harry mused. That had given him the time needed for him to gather his strength and adequately show his displeasure, destroying half the headmaster's office was pretty satisfying to say the least. And considering what Dumbledore had revealed to him, Harry could really not find it within him to even come up with an iota of guilt for destroying all those stupid silver instruments.

Underlying it all was a rather peculiar emotion that Harry was feeling, he could not name it. Though if pressed, he would describe it as 'disorientation'.

As it was, Harry could scarcely believe that it was still morning. Right now, he felt like going to sleep and not waking up. Ever.

Harry started towards the Gryffindor tower only to stop halfway. He was in no mood for human company right now, much less the company of vapid, snivelling, immature teenagers. He needed to think, to sort out the mess that was his head. A place not many people knew about.

Pondering this, he finally came to a decision, and, mind made up, he directed his feet towards the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, where, after thinking of a peaceful place to rest and think, walked into the door which materialised on the blank stretch of wall opposite the tapestry.

Harry stepped into the Room of Requirement to find what looked like a small meadow under a cloudless sky. He lay down on a slight protrusion in the middle of the field to find that it did not feel like what he expected the ground to feel like. It was as soft as his four-poster in the Gryffindor dorm; in fact, he would say that it felt even more comfortable than his dorm bed. It was a decidedly odd if comfortable sensation, Harry thought absently before turning his thoughts to what had just happened.

First was the fact that his godfather had died, and here Harry's eyes started to glisten; Sirius was the first adult in Harry's life who actually cared for him and only him. Sure, he had Mrs. Weasley and Remus, but they weren't the same. Mrs. Weasley was his friend's mother and he really didn't know Remus that well comparatively. Harry wasn't blind to Sirius' faults, he knew that Sirius was a bit brash and reckless, and tended to act before thinking, and was also, Harry mused, slightly delusional and immature, but then again, he had been locked up for quite a long time, the Dementors definitely had to have an effect on his mind. Either that, or insanity runs in the Black Family, Harry thought, thinking of Bellatrix and how sadistically crazy she was.

His mood darkened as he thought of Bellatrix, Harry scowled as he saw her sneering face in his mind's eye. One day, I'll kill that bitch, he thought with malevolence imagining her form writhing under his wand in pain.

Harry abruptly stopped as he realised the rather violent directions his thoughts had taken. He didn't want to torture Bellatrix, did he? But a small part of him that he had not heard of before did. It craved her blood, the sound of her tortured screams; the satisfaction of watching the pain in her eyes as life slowly and torturously left her body-

At that, Harry snapped out of his thoughts. What was that about? He wondered, certain that he had never felt that way about anyone before, and confused as to why he wasn't truly bothered with it. Shivering, he focused back on the events of the previous few hours.

Thoughts of Bellatrix naturally led him to the incident at the atrium where he had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on her. They then moved on to the duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort. Harry felt awed by the power that was thrown around by those two wizards. That, he thought, was real magic Harry suddenly had a newfound craving to learn more to delve deeper into the depths of magic, to really see what could be done when one pushed the boundaries.

Eventually his mind drifted onto the aftermath of the battle and his subsequent possession by Voldemort. He shivered, that was one experience that he did not wish to repeat! He still felt the aftermath of that ordeal. Though he felt ... different somehow ... as if that had changed him forever. He did not know why or how but knew that in his gut.

Finally, his mind then turned towards the events in the Headmaster's office. His mood darkened, Dumbledore had said a lot of things that had angered him. Directly and indirectly; first off was that thrice damned prophecy. Harry couldn't believe that Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to tell him that before. Sure, a small part of him realised, he was too young at the time, and it was a heavy burden to place on anyone, much less a fifteen year old.

The duel between Dumbledore and Voldemort had definitely opened Harry's eyes to the harsh reality of what Voldemort really was like. There was a reason why Voldemort was considered to be The Most Feared Dark Lord in Modern Times, why people feared to even name him. Voldemort was deadly! Harry was lucky to have survived him thus far, he knew that Voldemort had underestimated him before. He knew that it was luck that had saved him in all his encounters with Voldemort. If Voldemort wasn't so hell bent on showing off and had he actually decided to finish Harry off, exchanging grandstanding and enjoyment for utility and convenience, and had he taken Harry as seriously as he had taken Dumbledore, Harry wouldn't have stood a chance.

Voldemort definitely won't be playing around the next time they met, this Harry knew for sure. Guess it means that I'll have to find a way to ensure that he isn't at his best then,he thought.

Harry wondered why Dumbledore hadn't made a better effort to train him. He knew that it would eventually come down to him and Voldemort, so why not do anything? After all, Dumbledore had taken a major interest in his life...

Suddenly Harry shot up as he remembered a part of his last conversation with Dumbledore:

Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, 'Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well – not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years.'

The last few sentences rang in Harry's mind. Dumbledore knew! He knew about my home life at the Dursleys, and he did NOTHING!

Harry began to see red, there was an odd ringing in his ears as his mind began to rapidly process that information, discovered new associations not thought of before and reached new conclusions;

His first Hogwarts letter that had been addressed to his cupboard; that really was proof that if not Dumbledore, at least McGonagall knew! After all she did sign the letters personally ... how could she have missed that? His conclusion was that she hadn't she was too intelligent to have, so either she was ignorant of the fact or she did not pursue the issue beyond notifying Dumbledore about it. Both scenarios weren't too comforting. He refused to believe the third possibility that she knew but did not care. That situation was too horrible to fathom.

Then there was the man in the purple top hat, Dedalus Diggle, and the woman in the green dress, Emmeline Vance. Harry knew he had seen them somewhere before, and he realised then that he had and the significance; he had met them before he even knew of Hogwarts so they have been spying on me for what looks like all my life, yet they did nothing? Harry fumed

Then Harry had another epiphany; Mrs Figg: He had just found out last summer that she was a squib and in Dumbledore's Order. Unbidden, the memory of his encounter with her came to the forefront of his mind along with a part of what she had said;

'...I'm sorry I gave you such a miserable time Harry, but the Dursleys would never have let you come over if they'd thought you enjoyed it...'

'She knew too' Harry whispered to himself, horrified, 'She knew and didn't say ANYTHING!' Harry screamed out the last words.

At this, something in Harry snapped and he let out a primal scream of rage and anger, unleashing his magic out in a torrent of emotion. Wind whipped through the meadow and clouds formed overhead in the simulated sky. Wards flared up in the room in a bright display of colour as they contained the outburst of raw magic.

Finally, the stress and lack of sleep caught up with Harry and his rage subsided quickly. Drained, Harry finally passed out, all but dead to the world.

As Harry lost consciousness, his mind was still in peril. The soul fragment of Voldemort's within him had been destroyed; however, it wasn't a clean job...

The soul essentially consisted of a wizard's personality and his inherent magic. Now to get a personality, one needs to be able to draw from experience. Experience is a subconscious thought process, something that becomes ingrained in the brain. Basically they were what you'd call "muscle memory". Under normal conditions, had Harry not flown into a fit of rage and all but drained his magic completely, what little magic that had remained in his body after his various battles with the Death Eaters and Voldemort would have been enough, even in his exhausted state (Harry was a powerful wizard after all) to wipe this off. Unfortunately, Harry's episode had caused magical exhaustion leaving his body with almost no magic at the moment.

As such, the remains of the soul fragment would be able to reassert itself, but still stay separate, essentially putting Harry back at square one. It would have eventually been consumed by Harry's soul as Harry regained enough magic to fight back, but it might have resulted in Harry being put up in a nice cosy bed in the permanent ward of St Mungo's.

After all, the general public opinion is that Schizophrenia isn't a good thing. And people that suffer from it are considered to be a danger to society, especially if their alternate personality is that of a megalomaniac Dark Lord.

However Harry was lucky enough to be in the heart of a near sentient magical castle.

The Room of Requirement was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw with help from the other three founders (not that she'd ever admit that) to be a sort of control centre/panic room for the castle should it ever fall under siege from "those filthy muggle heathens" (Gryffindor's words, not that he-or any historian for that matter-would ever admit it) that populated the wide world.

It was in a way, Ravenclaw's contribution to the castle's defence should the need arise. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff had created the wards as a first line of defence, while Slytherin had decided that a basilisk would be a good last line of defence (never mind the fact that the bloody snake would be as much a danger to the defenders, but when you are anyway going to be overrun and burned alive at the stake, death by basilisk stare is surprisingly preferable!)

However, the wards worked like a charm (considering that they were a part of that branch of magic) and as such, much to Ravenclaw's disappointment (not that she'd ever admit that either) the Room was never needed.

Over the centuries, as the magical world became more and more secure and isolated from the muggle world, and the castle became more of a school than a defence structure, the Room's original use was forgotten and was used for more mundane things. Eventually as the magic within the castle and the room built up over time, and the castle became more sentient, the room also changed and evolved through time till the current result was seen.

The room was also in a really bizarre magical way, in the centre of the castle which was situated exactly over an intersection of four different major ley lines, (the actual reason why the Founders had chosen this place to build their castle) there was a good concentration of magic in that area.

The castle sensed that the wizard lying prone right at the centre of its very heart was in major distress and needed help. So it started pumping a small fraction of the magic within it to help the boy.

This helped in integrating the soul fragments into Harry's soul, changing his very nature by a slight amount. Harry gained, in addition to his previously acquired ability to speak to snakes, an experience in duelling, something which Voldemort had perfected during his younger years before his rise into notoriety. Harry would have to increase his arsenal of spells on his own for this to be of any use though.

Another useful talent that he had picked up from those soul fragments would also be the knowledge of Apparating as well. Voldemort had done enough Apparating in his life that he could almost do so silently and without much thought in almost any position. He had also done quite a bit of Apparating through moderately powered anti-apparation wards as well as under the stress of combat. And now, Harry too could do so. Not that he knew that at the moment.

In addition to that Harry also had gained Voldemort's mastery of the mind arts. After all, Voldemort had been a practising Occlumens and Legilimens practising the arts almost constantly ever since his sixth year when he had discovered that art.

Now the body is rather conservative. Harry's magic was basically the reason why despite his relatives' treatment of him he didn't look like a one of those starved refugee children from a war torn country. Most of his magic had gone into healing him and ensuring that his body was properly nourished. This had the effect of making him magically weaker, and also stunting his magical growth.

It was only because Harry was so naturally powerful that he still remained a wizard and the Dursleys' wishes of "beating the magic out of him" weren't realised. As such while he would be powerful, he would not be able to reach his full magical potential.

However, Hogwarts while sentient wasn't intelligent, and thus had underestimated the amount of magic that Harry would need. After all, "a little amount of magic" to it was more than enough power to make two squibs moderately powerful wizards. As a result of this, Harry had a lot of magic left over in his nearly empty core.

So his body used this opportunity and Harry's still growing core suddenly expanded so that by the time he reached his full maturity, Harry would be even more powerful than he would have ever been. There was also still enough magic left within him so that his body began to utilise it to take care of the last vestiges of malnutrition. As such Harry filled out a bit more so that he no longer looked pinched, but lean. His height increased by an extra inch or so till he was standing at a respectable six feet.

Hogwarts, sensing that he was still using magic to heal, decided to help a bit. The end result was the extra benefit of repairing Harry's impaired vision so he no longer was half blind without his glasses. Also, the numerous scars and bruises that Harry had collected till then healed over till they all disappeared. The notable exception being the scar on his forehead that instead of disappearing became lighter till it was barely discernible.

Finally, as Harry's body no longer had any pressing needs to take care of, the magical transfer stopped, leaving a much improved Harry Potter that now lay resting in the middle of the room.

I would like to thank my friends, FirePhoenix86 and McFluffin (check their stories out); you guys have been really helpful!

Read and review; flames shall be treated with a cold disdain and summarily ignored.

2. Harry's Day Out

Harry Potter opened his eyes a few hours later, winced and immediately closed them again, groaning. His limbs were sore, his head was pounding with a vengeance and everything seemed way too bright. Opening his eyes again he found himself in what looked to be a meadow and, judging by the light in the sky it looked to be late evening. Confused, he sat up suddenly; the pounding in his head increased making him dizzy. Clutching his head, he squeezed his eyes shut as he waited for the feeling to pass.

As he began to feel a bit normal, he opened his eyes again and took in his surroundings: the door standing at the far end as well as the way the meadow seemed to end abruptly reminded him that he was in the Room of Requirement. With this realisation, the memories of the past came back.

He briefly considered running away from the wizarding world, perhaps also writing a letter telling Voldemort that he was not interested in fighting him and getting him to agree to a ceasefire. He scoffed internally at that thought.

Dear Dark Lord, thought Harry sardonically,

How are you? I hope that your one attempt at possessing me and subsequent ejection from my mind did not cause you too much of pain and that this letter finds you in good mental health (relatively speaking).

Anyway, after the numerous sojourns that we have had with each other I have come to the realisation that fighting you is not really what I want to do. The only reason I hated you is because you killed my parents, people I now realise that I never knew much. As such since they also were the causalities of a war, and had chosen to fight against you and had lost, I find myself caring even lesser about that fact now.

Thinking back on it, I also find that the other reason for fighting you (that you tried to kill me as a baby) a bit silly as well. Looking back on it, I realise that you were actually trying to carry out an act of kindness in trying to spare me the agony of growing up without parents. So there really is no reason for me to fight you! And I realise that you have nothing personal against me.

Thus, I have decided to stop fighting you and let you continue on your quest for world domination. After all, it's not like I care about the fate of a million plus strangers. What have they done for me that I should care for their existence or continued happiness?

As a show of good faith, I will tell you the full prophecy and will be shortly moving to Australia. I will also include my address here too!

Yours faithfully,

Harry Potter.

Harry snorted to himself. Even in his head that sounded lame and naïve. He knew that Voldemort had taken Harry's continued existence as a personal insult. To him, Harry was the one that got away, the only survivor of Voldemort's numerous attempts to kill him. The fact that he wasn't even out of school was a further blow to Voldemort's ego.

The fact that Voldemort happened to be a megalomaniac only made matters worse. Harry also knew that Voldemort would not rest till Harry was dead and that he saw Harry still being alive as a "threat to his power".

Add in the fact that he believed in the prophecy, and thus finding the full contents of which would make him even more convinced that as long as Harry lived, he was a threat to his dreams of world domination, Harry was positively certain beyond a doubt that Voldemort would ensure that Harry died by his own hand.

Harry was sure that the mad man would have first taken over Britain before going after him. And then Harry would be royally screwed since Voldemort would have legitimate authority behind him.

Also, now that he thought about it, Dumbledore would also spend his time and effort in tracking him down too, since he too believed in that prophecy.

All in all, running away right now was more than trouble than it was worth. So Harry dismissed the option of just leaving everybody to Voldemort, as much as he felt that the wizarding world deserved it. Besides, he did have friends here, and he wasn't willing for them to suffer. And, come to think of it, he did not fancy living life on the run.

With this in mind, Harry started plotting ways in which he could bring down Voldemort. He knew that the Dark Wizard was more powerful and had a lot of experience, something that Harry had no hope of achieving. Harry knew that he himself was powerful; after all, he could produce a Patronus at thirteen, (something many full grown wizards had trouble doing) he also could resist the Imperius cast by Voldemort himself! (Again, something most wizards couldn't do.)

However, all that power wouldn't be of much help to Harry without experience, and there Voldemort had the advantage. Unless Harry mused, I can catch him by surprise ... get him when he least expects it and overwhelm him ... Harry trailed off, that plan could be looked into much later, in the mean time, perhaps it would be more prudent to look into training himself in fighting competently. Now that he thought about it, he supposed that he should be thankful that the Death Eaters had been so focused on the prophecy last night, or he was sure that he would've had his arse handed to himself.

With that in mind, Harry made a mental checklist. First off he obviously needed to get the appropriate books which he was sure wouldn't be found in the school library. Even if they were around, he was sure that Dumbledore wouldn't approve of his reading material. I bet that old twat would make some excuse and take those books away while acting as if he was doing me a bloody favour thought Harry scathingly.

With that thought, Harry got up, and as he took his first step, stumbled. Startled, he looked down. The ground looked farther than he was used to. He then noticed that his arms were sticking out by a few extra inches from the sleeves of his robes.

After spending a moment looking at his sleeves, the next thing that came to Harry's notice was his vision. Things looked a bit too clear to him. With a jolt, he realised that he was not wearing his glasses as he clearly could see the item in question at the corner of his eye (something that was impossible a few short hours ago).

Harry shrugged; he was used to strange things happening around him and as such couldn't find much to complain about right now seeing as he was rather pleased with the results. He absently noticed that his robes were a bit tight across his chest. His trainers also seemed a bit snug.

Just as Harry was debating walking back to the dorm barefoot (as he refused to let anyone see Vernon's old socks on his feet), a new pair of trainers and socks suddenly appeared in front of him. Realising the significance of the room that he was currently occupying, Harry concentrated and a set of new clothes (right down to underwear) appeared in front of him.

Harry changed into these, discarding his old soiled robes and tatty trainers before leaving the room not bothering to take his old clothes and shoes; he had a vague thought that the room would be able to recycle those. Pocketing his glasses, he exited the Room of Requirement and headed towards Gryffindor Tower.

As Harry entered the tower, he found a nearly empty common room. A glance out of the window showed that it was actually late morning (despite the scenery Harry had woken up to in the Room). Harry remembered that today was a Hogsmeade weekend. The few first and second years that were looking at him warily further proved this theory.

Sighing, Harry went back out and headed outside. He had no desire to be gawked at by titchy little eleven and twelve year olds, nor did he feel like sitting in his dorm.

As he headed towards a secluded corner in the grounds, a flash of white caught his eye. Turning, he noticed Dumbledore striding across the grounds, with, Harry was surprised to note, Professor McGonagall, who was leaning on a cane. They were headed to the gates, deep in conversation. Harry followed at a distance and watched as Dumbledore bade the Deputy Headmistress goodbye before Disapparating.

McGonagall turned around and started as she found Harry Potter staring back at her. She absently noticed something different about him, but could not place her finger on it.

'Good afternoon Mr. Potter, how may I help you?' said McGonagall in a concerned tone, she had heard about what had transpired before and was worried about the boy in front of her.

'Afternoon Professor,' said Harry casually, 'I was just headed to Hogsmeade and I couldn't help but notice you and Professor Dumbledore. I gather that he has gone to meet Fudge again?' he said, the lie coming surprisingly easily to him.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow in surprise, 'The Headmaster is a busy man Mr. Potter, even more so thanks to recent events.' Harry flinched a bit at her words, 'He has been summoned by our esteemed minister for his advice on certain matters.'

'Will Fudge be giving Professor Dumbledore his old positions back then?'

'If Minister Fudge knows what's good for him, he would be doing that today itself,' said McGonagall wryly, 'Though, considering his track record of late that may be debatable.'

'It looks like Professor Dumbledore has a busy day ahead of him then.'

'Indeed, Mr. Potter, I suspect he may not be able to make it till midnight at the earliest. Was there anything you required of him?'

'Oh nothing really Professor, it was just idle curiosity,' Harry lied again.

McGonagall regarded Harry with concern. 'Are you alright, Harry? From what I have heard about what happened in the Ministry, I thought that it must have been rather traumatising for you, I for one did not expect you to be out and about today of all days.'

'I'm fine Professor. I guess that the reality of the situation hasn't sunk in yet. I just wanted some time alone for myself so I could think, and decided to take a walk in the village,' said Harry, putting his training with the Dursleys to good use. The previous revelations and events had gone a long way in destroying any lingering reservations he had of manipulating and lying to others for his own gains.

'Very well, Harry if you need anything, my door will always be open to you should you need help, don't hesitate to ask.'

'Sure, thank you Professor,' said Harry, he tried not to think about how "helpful" she had been when he had tried to share his concerns about the Philosopher's Stone, or how "helpful" she had been when people were spreading rumours about his being the Heir of Slytherin, or when Draco Malfoy had been distributing those badges in Fourth Year. He really did, but he was only human in the end. And currently rather ticked off at the moment.

Harry somehow managed to keep his face straight as he brushed by her. As he passed through the gates, he scowled before his expression changed to one of anticipated excitement.

Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts at the moment, and wouldn't be there for the whole day! Also, since the students were out in the village, Harry wouldn't be missed. Especially since his friends (he thought with a twinge of guilt) were in the hospital wing. In fact none of the teachers would be expecting him to show up at dinner either! Not that Harry planned on staying that long, but it was something to think of.

Harry furtively made his way to the outskirts of the village. He was jubilant that he hadn't been seen by anyone he knew or recognised by the throng of students mingling around.

However, that was short lived when the problem of actually getting to Diagon Alley came to him.

He initially thought of using the Knight Bus, but was leery as he knew that would draw a lot of attention. What with the racket that machine could kick up. The fact that it looked like Ernie Prang practiced playing Need for Speed a few dozen times before getting the job of driving that purple Triple-Decker monstrosity, coupled with the prospect of meeting Stan Shunpike (who considered it his sacred duty to stick his overly pimply nose into other people's business), Harry was understandably hesitant in using that mode of transportation.

The Floo was out of the question as he would need to get to the fireplace in The Three Broomsticks, where he risked being recognised. He could not exactly break into a house, as that would probably gain him even more attention than he needed. The Hogs Head also was out of the question as he was pretty sure that the bartender there was rather chummy with a certain meddlesome old man.

If only he could Apparate, he thought wistfully; then he would be able to get there in no time and with minimal fuss.

Lost in thoughts of being able to appear instantly at his destination, Harry did not notice a slight shift in his magic, busy as he was in imagining himself just at the entrance of Diagon Alley.

But he definitely noticed that his environment had changed. In front of him, instead of the hills surrounding Hogsmeade, he saw Diagon Alley with Gringotts rising up in the distance. Startled, he looked back to see the archway that would lead to the Leaky Cauldron.

Did I just Apparate? Thought Harry incredulously, from what he had heard from Fred and George when he had badgered them about Apparating, the process was supposed to be rather difficult accompanied by a sensation of being squeezed through a tube.

However, Harry hadn't felt that, nor did he feel any difficulty. In fact it just felt right. It was the same feeling he had when he had first flown on a broom. That he somehow (on some instinctual level) knew what to do, and had done it for quite a few times.

Shrugging, Harry set off toward Gringotts; he had more important matters to take care of and little time, he also needed money.

Entering the bank, Harry noticed that it being a Saturday afternoon, the bank was relatively empty. Moving towards the nearest free teller, he said with a hint of trepidation, 'Excuse me, I would like to access my vault please, but I don't have the key, so was wonder-'

'Name?' came the surly reply, cutting Harry of mid sentence

'Uh, Harry Potter,' said Harry stammering a little.

The goblin brought out a bronze disk and a knife and said, 'Place some of your blood here to verify your identity.'

Harry sliced his finger and squeezed out a few drops and handed the knife and disk back. He watched, startled, as the goblin licked some of the blood from the disk off.

Wearing a thoughtful look as if he was sampling a glass of vintage wine, the goblin finally said 'Very well, Mr. Potter, you are who you say you are. I will get somebody to escort you to your account manager. Griphook!'

'Did you just lick my blood?' said Harry incredulously, and not with a hint of disgust.

'Trust me Mr. Potter, I did not enjoy the experience,' said the teller impatiently. 'Now if you have do not have any more questions, please follow Griphook. If you have more questions, find someone else to annoy!'

'Alright, alright, no need to be so snarky,' Harry muttered under his breath, turning away. Hearing the teller snort, he turned back and saw the goblin tap his nameplate wearing a look of amusement. Looking at it, Harry understood the reason for the goblin's amusement. He snorted at the word Snarktooth written there and hurried to catch up to his escort.

Griphook led him through another door at the back of the bank and into a long corridor interspersed with more doors. Harry remembered his name of course (who wouldn't since that was the first goblin name he had heard) but didn't see the need to point that out. He doubted that the goblin would take kindly to it (or care). For all Harry knew, they may take offence to it. He silently resolved to look up goblin culture in the near future. After all, they did handle his money...

Near the end of the corridor, the line of doors stopped; leaving a blank stretch of walls that continued on into darkness. Harry wondered what there was at the end before turning his attention back to Griphook as he knocked on the slightly opulent door that said 'Gornuk'.

Entering, he greeted the goblin that was seated at the desk on the other side of the large and spacious office and was bid to sit.

Settling down into the large armchair, Harry got straight down to business. He figured from his earlier experiences that goblins did not waste time with pleasantries and liked to get to the heart of the matter. It also didn't hurt that he was currently strapped for time.

Leaning forward Harry said, 'Good day to you account manager Gornuk, I would like to inquire about the state of my accounts.'

'It's just Gornuk, Mr Potter, managing your account is just my job, not my title ... I was wondering when you would come in Mr. Potter,' said the large elderly goblin at the other end. 'I was expecting you on the day of your fifteenth birthday ... nonetheless you are here now, although, I do not see your magical guardian around, will he be joining us shortly?' he said looking at Harry inquiringly

Harry was surprised at this last statement; he didn't know that he had a magical guardian, but he had a sneaking suspicion as to who that could be. 'I had no idea that I had a magical guardian,' he said slowly, 'I came here on my own when I knew that I would be free and unsupervised.'

'You should have been informed about your magical guardian Mr. Potter,' said the elderly goblin. 'However, it is quite easy to figure out who it is. All Muggleborn children are assigned a magical guardian when they reach the age of eleven and are sorted into their house at Hogwarts. Normally, that person is the minor's Head of House, but considering your, ah, unique situation, the headmaster has seen it fit to take on that responsibility.'

'But I am not Muggleborn,' said Harry, strangely insulted at being compared to Muggleborns.

'Indeed not Mr. Potter,' said the goblin, 'but the since you were Muggle raised, it was considered prudent by all parties involved that you should be treated as Muggleborn. At any rate,' he continued, ignoring the sour look on Harry's face, 'the reality is that your magical guardian is Albus Dumbledore, but you should know that. It is his duty to inform you of that fact ... surely, he told you in one of your meetings?'

'What meetings?' said Harry nonplussed.

'The mandatory meetings that all wards have with their magical guardians during their first two years of schooling, of course,'

Then Harry remembered the odd times that Hermione Granger used to disappear for a few hours all those years ago. He never thought to ask her where she had gone and was quite happy to assume that she was in the library. Harry supposed that she might have had her scheduled meetings with McGonagall. Suddenly it made more sense to Harry on how she seemed to know a lot about of the magical world. McGonagall was teaching her.

It also brought a new meaning to all that waffle about "the House being family" that McGonagall had been spouting when she was talking to them before their sorting, now that he thought about it.

'I never had any of those meetings,' said Harry; he was a bit miffed at the headmaster's inattentiveness. It would have been nice to have some help fitting into the wizarding world, instead of feeling stupid whenever a subject he did not know of was talked about.

'That is rather irregular,' said the goblin, frowning. 'It is the duty of the magical guardian to help the ward to acclimatize to the wizarding world. It seems that Dumbledore has neglected his duties.'

It wouldn't be the first time, Harry thought bitterly, before a thought came to him, 'Has Dumbledore tried to access my accounts or withdrawn anything?'

'Let me see...' said Gornuk standing up and moving to a filing cabinet nearby, taking out a ledger, he sat back down and leafed through it.

'From your trust vault, the only withdrawals made were made by you on the summer before your first, second and third years, and by a Molly Weasley on the summer before your fourth and fifth years, correct?' he said looking up at Harry. Seeing him nod, he looked back down, 'From your family vault, your magical guardian has taken out two heirlooms; one Pensieve and one Invisibility Cloak. The Pensieve had been loaned by your grandfather indefinitely until he or his heirs (mainly you) decide to reclaim it. While the cloak was taken on the summer of 1998 before you began your first year; the reason being that it was to be given to you shortly. Did you receive The Cloak?'

Harry seethed, that old bastard! He takes my cloak from my family vault and has the gall to pretend that it was given to him by my father? Reining his emotions, he affirmed the receipt of the Cloak sounding rather calm.

'Also, in addition to this, a small monetary stipend has been set up for your caregivers, the Dursleys I believe?'

'How much, and who set that up?' said Harry, his voice quavering a bit as he tried not to explode.

'Around Five Hundred Galleons per month for twelve months for the first ten years between 1988 and 1997, this amount was reduced from '97 onwards to Two Hundred Galleons per month for three months. At the current rate of exchange, that would be Two Thousand Five Hundred GBP and One Thousand GBP a month respectively. It was done to cover the costs of your upkeep and wellbeing.'

Upon hearing this Harry became enraged. However, he knew that it would serve no purpose here. Automatically (as if his brain knew what to do) he found the rage being marginalised. This gave him a sense of tranquillity and an air of peace. The rage was there, but kept aside for awhile.

Focusing back on the goblin in front of him, Harry said, 'Is there any way I can recover all that money back? Because it seems that they have not used any of that money on me or my wellbeing.'

Gornuk narrowed his eyes, 'If you saying what I think you are saying Mr. Potter, then it looks like your relatives have breached their contract.'

Harry's mind filled with possibilities, the chance to get back at the Dursleys was pretty enticing, 'What can be done?'

'Your relatives have signed a magical contract when they agreed to raise you as it was written in their letter. A duplicate has been filed in a Muggle subsidiary of ours, the Bank of Scotland. I could get an investigation started and then alert the Muggle authorities, but that may take awhile. It's the only shot we have of prosecuting them,' Gornuk said.

'Get that done then, they shall pay for stealing from me!' said Harry.

'I will be more than happy to oblige Mr. Potter, as technically they have also stolen from Gringotts as well, and we do not like thieves,' said Gornuk with a feral smile.

'Though,' he continued disgruntled, 'we still haven't found that thief who broke into our bank five years ago.'

'Oh, I know what you are talking about!' said Harry suddenly. 'His name was Quirinus Quirrel, and he was the Defence against the Dark Arts teacher in my first year. I did not know that you were still looking for him, or else I would have said something...'

'And how do you know of the thief's identity?' said Gornuk with underlying excitement in his voice.

'He admitted it to me, and before you ask, there is no point looking for him since he is dead.'

'I am aware of that Mr. Potter,' said Gornuk, 'but how did he die?'

'I killed him,' Harry said simply. 'It was in self defence though,' he hastily added.

Gornuk looked at Harry for a while, an inscrutable look on his face, before he opened his mouth, 'Was his death long drawn and painful?' he sounded almost hopeful.

Thinking of the events of his first year, Harry replied with a small amount of relish, 'Oh yes, he was practically burnt to a crisp!'

Gornuk bared his teeth, 'Good, I will have the promised reward transferred to your vault as soon as possible.'

'Reward?' asked Harry blankly,

'Of course!' said Gornuk, 'You have done a great service to our bank, and we goblins never forget our debts, so as a token of our appreciation, we gift you with half a million Galleons. And we also will give you the full contents of the thief's family vault as a bonus for doing our job for us in killing him in such a fitting way. That vault currently has seven hundred and fifty Galleons in liquid cash and valuables.'

'Wait,' said Harry, 'Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but what about the other members of the Quirrel family? Won't they suffer?'

'No need to fret Mr. Potter,' said Gornuk dismissively, 'the only surviving relative of the thief happens to be his widowed sister, a Mrs. Umbridge if I am not mistaken,' he said.

'Oh,' said Harry, her approval of him as a teacher making sense to him now. 'In that case, thank you!' said Harry with a vindictive gleam in his eye.

'It's Gringotts who should be thanking you Mr. Potter,' said Gornuk. He continued with a sorrowful tone, 'Though if I remember correctly, a dragon was grievously injured and the door of the vault needed to be replaced. It looks like we'll have to take out the remaining expenses from the thief's next of kin now that his vault is no longer available.' He sighed regretfully, though the glint in his eyes told another story, 'Poor Madam Umbridge.'

'Indeed,' chuckled Harry imagining Umbridge's face when she found out. It looked like she had made enemies with her bankers ... foolish of her really, Harry mused.

'Anyway, back to business,' said Gornuk briskly, rubbing his gnarled hands. He reached out and took out a piece of parchment. Tapping it, he turned it to Harry, 'This is the current status of your vaults, including the reward that you have earned,' he gave Harry a minute to peruse it before continuing, 'As you can see, your net worth happens to be around Five Hundred and Fifty Million Galleons. Admittedly, the Potter fortune has dropped in value since it has lain dormant for all these years as some investments have not done so well, but now that you are of an age where you can claim the vaults and manage them, it can be reactivated. I have many plans for it. Hopefully, your family will regain its billionaire status by the end of the next fiscal year.'

Harry was stunned, he knew that the Potters were an ancient and wealthy family after having researched everything he could about them the first chance he got (after all who wouldn't?) but this was staggering. Well, at least he wouldn't need to work to earn his living.

His thoughts were diverted as Gornuk pushed some sheets of parchment towards him. 'You will need to sign these to get full control of your vaults,' he said, 'and you need to sign these to void any claims your magical guardian has over you, since he has proven to be ineffective.' He added, taking out another sheaf.

As Harry started signing, Gornuk continued, 'As your account manager, I will be able to make decisions which will help build your wealth, as your fortunes are tied in with mine, it will be mutually beneficial to both of us. Also, as my first act as your account manager, I have compiled a list of investments that I recommend you authorise, along with a list of businesses that you are either the investor of or included as partner.'

Harry spotted a name in the list and exclaimed, 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes? They made me their partner?'

'Indeed Mr. Potter, after all, you did give them money to help their business,' said Gornuk. 'A fine investment, I predict that their inventiveness may give Zonko's a run for its money. Speaking of which, here's a list of investments that have gone bad or are not going to be of benefit to you.' he said, giving Harry another list.

Harry cleared his throat, 'Is there a way to replace my vault keys? I am afraid that I no longer am in possession of them since Mrs. Weasley has forgotten to return my trust vault key, and I have never been given my family vault key. I would also like to make a withdrawal.'

'You should be careful with your keys, Mr. Potter, you never know when a person could get hold of it and use it to help themselves to your money,' admonished Gornuk with a frown.

'At any rate,' he continued, after watching Harry squirm a bit, 'Sign here and we will issue you a new set of keys. Your family vault keys are with me and will not be needed after the wards to the vault are calibrated to your touch.'

After Harry signed the latest batch of forms, Gornuk said, 'Excellent, everything is in order; I will carry out the instructions and start making the necessary transactions, and we can start rebuilding your fortunes.'

At that moment, somebody knocked at the door. When bid to enter, the person turned out to be another goblin. Upon looking at the occupants inside, he said, 'Ragnok has requested your presence. The both of you.'

Surprised, Gornuk stood up and strode towards the door, Harry following him. Harry noticed that this time they had gone to the far end of the corridor where a single ornate door stood, guarded by two burly goblin guards. Entering, Harry saw an office as big as the Dursley house. At the far end behind a large desk, sat a richly appointed goblin, in front of whom was another elderly goblin.

Ragnok stood up from behind his desk and said in a gravelly tone, 'ah Gornuk, so glad of you to join us, and Mr. Potter as well ... Come, sit!' waving his hand at the surly looking goblin in front of him he said, 'This is Grimjaw, the head of the Black accounts.'

'Good to meet you too sir,' said Harry politely, 'May I ask what this is about?' he added in a slightly curious tone.

Ragnok and Grimjaw gave Harry an appraising look appreciating his display of manners and directness.

'It has recently come to our attention that the last male member of the Black family has passed away,' said Grimjaw in a serious tone. 'In a previous visit to the bank, he had made a will naming you as his heir and entitling you to the entire Black estate and all its titles. However, Lord Black was aware of the fact that only male members of the Black family may inherit the title. So in anticipation of that, had decided to perform a blood adoption ritual taking you in as his son. He had informed me that he was planning on carrying out the ritual sometime before your sixteenth birthday.'

Harry was stunned Sirius planned on adopting him? On making him his own son?

Harry's deepest wish was to have a real father, and to know that Sirius had considered him as his son to the point of making it legal touched a long dormant part of him. He felt elated, and yet this made Sirius' loss even more profound. Realising that there was work to be done, he quickly filed his emotions away, and concentrated on the situation.

'But Sirius died before he could adopt me,' he said.

'That is obvious' drawled Grimjaw, 'However, your godfather was prepared for just this situation and has left a vial of his blood under a stasis charm,' saying this, Grimjaw took out a large vial that held about a litre of blood. 'This will be more than enough to carry out the ritual making you his heir by blood and magic. Lord Black, however, had instructed me to inform you that it is your decision whether or not you wish to carry out the ritual.'

To Harry, there was only one answer to that question, 'Yes I will do it,' he said.

'Good, but be warned, the ritual will be a long and painful process. Depending on the situation, it may take a day to complete.'

Harry thought for a while and said, 'How complex is this ritual? I want to know because I need to be in Hogwarts before nightfall and was wondering if I can do the ritual myself.'

Ragnok hesitated and said, 'Mr. Potter, blood rituals are strictly regulated in Britain. While the blood adoption ritual is not exactly banned, it is a risky business legally speaking. However, Gringotts is goblin territory and that law is not observed. But should you do this outside, and be discovered, there may be severe repercussions, and you may not be recognised as a legitimate heir.'

Harry thought for a while and then said, 'What if Gringotts officially states for the record that the ritual happened in here? Then in the eyes of the Ministry, the ritual would be legal.'

The goblins looked at each other and after a brief conversation in rapid Gobbledegook, turned back to Harry. Grimjaw said, 'Well, you still won't be able to perform the ritual on your own as some of the parts require outside assistance. However, as you are pressed for time, perhaps we can come to Hogwarts and set it up. And you do not need to worry about us being detected; we have our methods of remaining undetected.'

Harry thought on that for a while and said, 'Very well, I will contact you soon and we can set up an appointment.' Harry thanked them and made his leave with Gornuk escorting him.

They had nearly reached the end of the corridor when Gornuk remarked casually, 'You know Mr. Potter, there is an interesting person at the end of Knockturn Alley who is very talented. Many Purebloods go to his shop to avail his services ... something that might interest a person in your current position...'

'Thank you, I will be sure to visit him.' said Harry after a pause.

'I never told you to visit him; after all, what he does isn't legal. No, I just said that there was an interesting man who goes by the name of Alberich at the end of Knockturn Alley and that if hypothetically, anyone who wanted to meet him, they should knock on the door three times and show him this ring.' he held up a ring, 'Not that you would be interested ... oh well, might as well dispose of it, I have no use for it.' With that he casually tossed the ring over his shoulder where it landed on the floor near Harry's feet.

'Now when you go outside, be sure to talk to Snarktooth, he will have your new keys and two debit cards calibrated to your vaults. The card will be valid in the Muggle world as well, and the one tuned to your family vault has a limit of ten thousand Galleons per month till you turn seventeen.'

'Well, Mr. Potter, I will now take my leave, I trust that you can make it out on your own?' Seeing Harry nod, Gornuk turned around and left for his office.

Harry picked up the ring and put it in his pocket with a grin. Moving out, he went to Snarktooth, who gave him his new keys and cards. Pocketing these, Harry left the bank.

Stepping outside, he noticed with surprise that it was still an hour or so before noon. He supposed that the goblins may have used a time distortion charm or something in their offices. It seemed plausible as they were the sort who would squeeze their money's worth from every second they could get. Either that or it might have been the amount of information that he had to process in a short time.

Following Gornuk's "advice" Harry made his way to Knockturn Alley. Raising the hood of his cloak, he started walking in long confident strides, avoiding eye contact with the other denizens of the street, focused on his destination. It would not do to appear to be lost or vulnerable after all.

Near the end, Harry spotted a door with an elaborate carving of a woman seducing a horde of demons at her feet and holding an amphora. Knocking thrice caused the woman's eyes to move and look at him. Unnerved, Harry held up the ring.

The woman's eyes flashed once before the door opened. Entering, Harry saw a small shop filled with odd trinkets and baubles. At the counter sat a man with flowing blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

Harry nervously swallowed and gathering his courage said, 'Alberich, I presume? I was told that you would be able to help me.'

The man raised an eyebrow and said in a deep melodious voice, 'It depends on the type of help one is looking for. If you happen to be an individual who wants to hide from ... people ... then, yes I can help.'

'What can you do?' asked Harry curiously.

'I mainly specialise in stealth and anonymity. The charms I know are unique and an invention of mine so cannot be duplicated, detected or broken. They are specifically targeted towards ministry sensors, and as such the ministry will not be able to find my clients should they, say, use magic in a non magical environment, for example,' said Alberich. 'And if the customer happens to be underage, I can also help remove The Trace without the ministry knowing a thing.' He added with a knowing look on his face.

'I also can analyse a person's magic and possibly take care of any problems within, all for a price of course.'

Harry now understood the secrecy behind meeting this man, he was sure that the ministry was oblivious to this man's existence along with the most of the wizarding population. With the obvious exception of a few purebloods, and other wizards (possibly assassins) who, Harry was sure, had used this man's services to avoid detection.

'I would like to have The Trace removed, and would also like my magic masked so that it cannot be detected. And, if you can manage it, I would like something that would help me blend in but not make me truly invisible. I am tired of having people stare at me, and at the same time have no desire in avoiding bumping into them. And if you could do that diagnosis thing of yours, I would appreciate that as well.'

'Very well,' said Alberich after a pause, pulling out his wand, he began to mutter a long string of a language Harry did not understand.

Lowering his wand, the man frowned and said, 'I cannot remove The Trace.'

Great, Harry thought with trepidation and a little resignation, barely anything could go right with him, 'Why not?' he asked nervously.

'That is because The Trace is no longer on your person.' Said Alberich thoughtfully, 'did you have it removed by someone else?' he asked suspiciously.

'Er, no,' said Harry,

Alberich studied Harry for a while and then said, 'Let me see if I can get to the bottom of this,' his eyes then started glowing as he stared at Harry intently.

After a minute or two just as Harry was becoming uncomfortable with all the staring, Alberich closed his eyes and said, 'Interesting.'

'Er what is?' asked Harry nervously,

'It seems that your core has undergone a massive overhaul and has practically been reset,' said Alberich opening his eyes. 'I sense some recent changes, nothing bad.' he added looking at Harry's worried face, 'basically any foreign magic placed on you has been obliterated by your magic, not only has the trace been removed but an advanced tracking charm as well and something that vaguely looks like a hole has been plugged, I am not too sure of that as whatever it was that the hole led to no longer ... exists ... it is centred around your scar though.' He said vaguely, looking at Harry's forehead, 'I have also noticed that it has undergone a massive expansion and if I am not mistaken your core will be growing a bit more by the time you reach your mid twenties. You are a rather powerful wizard, and possibly may be the most powerful one of your generation.' He paused for a while considering Harry, and then said, 'Have you undergone any great magical stress recently?'

Trying not to think too much of the events of the past night, Harry said, 'Yeah, I did fight off a possession shortly after a battle for my life against superior numbers, and then,' he continued with a little embarrassment, 'I fainted a little while later because I had released a large amount of magic as the events caught up with me.' Noticing the look of slight disbelief on the man's face, he snapped, 'Read tomorrow's Prophet, you'll figure it out!'

Holding his hands out in a gesture of peace, the man said, 'I believe you Mr. Potter, though you must admit, that isn't something you hear every day.'

Harry snorted, 'No it isn't,' he said wryly, not bothering to ask how the man knew his name.

'At any rate, the good news is that the Trace is no longer on you and there is nothing wrong with your core. Now I can still do the other things you asked of me, if you wish?'

Upon receiving Harry's nod, the man then showed Harry a few chains and necklaces. Harry picked out a thick linked silver chain, upon giving it a closer look he noticed small diamonds placed discreetly within the links and the clasp. Satisfied, he handed it over to the proprietor. The man held the chain in his hands and closed his eyes, causing the chain to glow white for a second.

Handing it back to Harry, he said, 'this will keep you from being noticed should you choose it.' Harry nodded his thanks and put on the chain, which fit snugly around his neck Harry fingered it for awhile getting used to feeling the cool metal against his skin.

'There are limitations to this however, while you will be unnoticed by those around you, you will not be truly invisible. So if you do something that is highly suspicious or impressive, the charm will be rendered useless. Though it will come back into effect the minute you become incognito. Also, if a person who was specifically looking for you were to see you, you will have but a few minutes before they break the charm. But avoiding eye contact and possibly covering your face may keep you undetected.'

Pausing for a while to let his customer digest this, he continued 'You can however, still use magic and be unnoticed, as long as you are discrete about it and are not seen doing it blatantly. People will look at you but will not give you a second thought when the charm is in effect. Apparating out in front of a person will not break the charm as long as it is done quietly, the same goes for Apparating in on a busy crowd.'

The man then picked up a similar bracelet, enchanted it and said, 'This will ensure that tracking charms cannot be placed on you without your consent. It will also block the ministry's sensors from picking up your magic. This will be on as long as you are wearing the bracelet, so you won't have to think about activating it.'

Harry put this on his right wrist. 'When the coolness wears off, they will be fully charged and attuned to your magical signature and can only be used and removed by you,.' said Alberich.

Harry thanked the man and left, around five hundred Galleons poorer, but extremely satisfied. He idly wondered why Alberich wasn't too suspicious about him entering his shop. Surely, a ring couldn't be the only identifying factor! Especially since what he was doing was illegal. Shrugging, Harry moved on, perhaps there was a Foe Glass or something in the back room or the Door was warded, he mused. At any rate he didn't really care, it was that man's headache as far as he was concerned. With that, Harry made his way to Diagon Alley, making a mental note to thank Gornuk for his recommendation.

Exiting Knockturn Alley, Harry immediately set off towards the Muggle world. The first thing on his mind was to get decent clothes. He wasn't sure how long the magically conjured clothes would last and did not want to suddenly find himself starkers in the middle of a busy street when they suddenly disappeared. He could already see the headlines that scene would cause; Boy-Who-Lived, becomes Boy-Who-Streaked, or Harry Potter Shows his Magic Wand, though The Boy-Who-Lied Bares All sounded like another possibility.

Shuddering, (was it his imagination or were his clothes feeling lighter?) he made for the Leaky Cauldron and the Muggle world. The fact that his cloak disappeared the minute he removed it only served to lengthen his strides.

Harry hurried down Charing Cross Road towards the Underground at Tottenham Court Road, where he had first gotten off with Hagrid. Certain that there was a clothes shop near there.

However, on reaching the station, he noticed with dismay that the clothes shop was now taken over by a music store.

Cursing his luck and trying not to panic, Harry furiously thought of a plan. He looked down the street and noticed an array of shops; perhaps he could walk down and find something?

Though, after passing a few cafes, a McDonalds, a pub (which did a marvellous job of reminding him that he was hungry) Harry's anxiety started to increase. Sure there were a few stores that sold clothes, but from what Harry could see from the outside, they looked rather girly. He briefly considered going into the Gap Store he had spotted across the road at one point, but one look at the mannequins outside disabused him of that notion, he wasn't that desperate ... yet...

Harry took a few deep breaths at this, trying to calm his thoughts. He cast his mind back six odd years trying to remember what that shop looked like. Suddenly, the store's name came to mind. Focusing on what the sign looked like, Harry felt confident that he could Apparate there directly.

Looking around at the busy street, he concentrated on becoming unnoticed. A shiver of magic ran down his neck, signalling that the charm had activated. The sudden decrease in the stares he was beginning to attract confirmed that theory.

Closing his eyes, and praying that it would work, Harry silently disappeared.

Opening his eyes, he found himself in front of a Debenhams. Looking around, he noticed that nobody had given him a second glance. Spotting a Muggle surveillance camera, he tensed up a bit before relaxing. He was certain that the charm would prevent Muggle cameras from noticing him while active.

Harry entered the store, and quickly made his way to the men's section, where he picked up a few random T-shirts and jeans that caught his fancy, and after some consideration, a pair of boxer shorts, barely giving a second glance to the designer labels on them.

Trying them on, he then paid for what he liked (after dropping the charm) and ducked back into the nearest trial room, where (after removing the underpants from its packaging) he changed into his new clothes. And not a moment too soon as the conjured clothes along with his trainers disappeared, leaving his old glasses on the floor. Sighing in relief, he pocketed his glasses (idly noticing without much surprise that the ring was now missing) and walked out of the trial room.

He may have been barefoot, and the pair of black boxer shorts he had just bought may have outlines of aeroplanes in green on them, but at least his feet were the only part of him exposed. Well, that and the underwear, his new jeans were low waist and by a miracle of gravity were still on his hips leaving his bum almost fully exposed.

But Harry didn't mind, he rather liked his new clothes and actually felt comfortable, the t-shirt was also long enough to cover his underwear, so he didn't feel too exposed. Besides, judging by what he had seen so far, it seemed that displaying your pants for the world to see was completely acceptable. Though he made a mental note to get a belt, as he pulled up his slipping trousers for what felt like the nth time ... after getting a pair of trainers of course...

With that in mind, he headed to the footwear section. Attracting the attention of a salesman, he got his feet measured, and found to his surprise that he was now a size twelve. Looking around, he found a nice pair of black trainers adorned with what looked like white graffiti on the sides and a big DC at the back in his size. After trying them out, he indicated that he would like to wear them out.

The salesman smiled and said, 'Sure thing sir, I'll just pack your old shoes in then, shall I?' Looking around, he asked confusedly, 'Where are your shoes anyway?'

After a bit of an awkward pause, Harry had a brainwave; hoping this would work, he tried to bring his magic out by projecting an air of complete confidence and authority and said, 'You don't need to look for my old trainers.'

Harry was rewarded with success when he saw the salesman's face go blank as he repeated what Harry had said in a monotone. Pleased, Harry then continued saying, adding in a hand gesture he thought appropriate for good measure, 'You already have packed in my old trainers and will be selling these new ones free of charge by paying for them out of your pay check. And then, you will forget all about this incident.'

Immediately, the man gave him the empty box with the spare pair of laces and said, 'Here you go, free of charge,' in a monotone, before wandering off, leaving a smirking Harry behind.

After paying for a few pairs of socks, and a wide leather belt with a big fancy buckle, Harry felt like a new man with his jeans firmly secured. Relaxing a bit, he browsed the store for a bit and basically bought himself a few more clothes, after all, he did like wearing new clothes of his own and he also had enough money to buy them. The fact that they were all designer labels, (and judging by the price tags on them) the height of fashion and would thus make Dudley really jealous was icing on the cake for Harry.

Harry also tested out and bought a few bottles of expensive perfume that caught his fancy. After all, why not smell good when you can more than afford it?

After spending close to a thousand quid, and discreetly shrinking the bags and placing them in his pocket, Harry walked out in search of a place to eat.

Spotting a Nando's nearby, he made his way over there. He had always wanted to try the food there after hearing his fat cousin rave about it once. Belly full of some really spicy chicken and excellent red wine that he had (literally) charmed the pretty waitress into selling him without asking questions, Harry activated the charms around his necklace an hour later and Apparated back to Diagon Alley.

Wasting no time, he quickly selected a few books on Duelling, Charms, Defence, and Transfiguration from Flourish and Blotts, and after some browsing, a book on stealth and eavesdropping. On his way to the till, he noticed a certain book he had coveted for nearly five years but hadn't seen the point in buying. Now, however, considering the changes that had occurred to him in the past few hours, Harry added the book to his sizeable pile grinning maliciously. Dudley was sure going to have an interesting summer this year...

Shrinking his purchases and noticing that it was nearly five, Harry quickly Apparated to Hogsmeade, and made his way to Hogwarts, blending in with the mass of students making their way back by making use of his necklace, satisfied with the progress he had made so far, yet knowing that there was more work to be done.

Like it? Then please review ...

Don't like it? Review again! I don't mind constructive criticism

Don't like it but cannot find a good reason for not liking it? Well, then go cry in a corner!

I would apologise for the late update, but since I don't really have a schedule ... there really isn't much to apologise for ... at any rate, Real Life does take precedence!

A thank you to all you guys who have added this little story to your favourites and alerts list ... you stir something deep within me ... it's strange, but rather pleasant ... and a special thank you to FirePhoenix86 for really helping out! (her fic's rather good too!)

3. The Death of Harry James Potter

As Harry entered the grounds, he thought about what the goblins had said about Sirius' will and the chance he had given Harry of being considered his son by blood. He already knew that he was going through with the adoption, as it cemented in his mind that he was actually wanted by someone in that way. Harry never really had anyone caring for him while growing up. While he stayed with his aunt, she never did show that she cared for him. In fact, he was sure that she and her family hated him and his very existence with a passion. They had gone out of their way to ensure that he never felt accepted or was a part of their household when he was growing up with them, except as the domestic help (though, "slave" would be a more accurate term).

He never did remember his parents since they had died when he was really young. While he knew that they loved him, it wasn't the same as the actual experience. Mrs. Weasley had filled that gap somewhat, but she was his best mate's mother, and frankly domineering. She did not seem to understand that Harry was different from her children. In fact, she did not seem to understand Harry at all!

In short, Harry had grown up not understanding the feeling of belonging or being wanted. So it was a foregone conclusion that he would jump at the chance to feel that even for a moment. Never mind that his step-father was already dead. What mattered was that someone wanted him as his son and was willing to acknowledge it.

But the million Galleon question was: How fast could it be done?

Harry wanted it done as fast as possible, and he also did not want anybody to know until after the fact. So with that in mind, Harry decided that it should be done tonight in Hogwarts.

The ministry was in uproar because Fudge had finally seen that Harry and Dumbledore had been telling the truth, so whatever happened today would in all probability not be noticed. Fudge, also in his blind panic had done the one thing he was reputed for doing ever since he was elected; gone running to Dumbledore hoping for an easy fix. That meant that Dumbledore would be busy, and since Fudge would want him at hand, the headmaster would not be at school till perhaps next morning.

That would mean that Dumbledore would be distracted as well. Therefore, tonight would be the best time to carry that ritual out.

With that in mind, Harry started climbing the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. He would first stow his purchases away in his trunk (especially that bottle of wine) before going to the Owlery and sending Hedwig to Gornuk and seeing if it was possible to set the ritual up later that night in Hogwarts.

However, as he had stashed his purchases in his trunk, he realised that it was getting rather late. He doubted that he would be able to send an owl in time to Gornuk. He wasn't sure if Gringotts had a closing time.

Then as he noticed a crumpled bit of parchment on the floor, it hit him; what better way to get a letter faster than by house-elf? Congratulating himself on his idea, Harry took his writing things out and penned a short note inquiring about the possibility of a meeting tonight to Gornuk.

But just before he could call Dobby, he was interrupted by Seamus and Dean who entered the dorm noisily.

Harry cursed silently; he didn't have the time to wait for them to leave, nor could he just call Dobby in front of them, he was a bit paranoid right now and did not want even an inkling of what he was about to do to come out. So after answering a few cursory questions, Harry hurried out of the dorm not particularly caring if he was being rude; he still hadn't fully forgiven Seamus.

Climbing out of the portrait, he set off at a brisk walk towards the Room of Requirement. Reaching the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, he checked he was alone before calling out for Dobby.

With a crack the house-elf appeared. 'Harry Potter sir called Dobby! What can Dobby be doing for Sir?' said the overexcited house-elf.

Harry smiled at Dobby briefly before getting down to business, 'Dobby, can you do something for me and not tell anybody about it?'

Dobby looked even more excited by the prospect of helping Harry out than normal. The result of that was rather disturbing. If Harry didn't know better, he was sure that the house-elf would spontaneously combust in excitement. Nodding rather vigorously, Dobby said, 'Oh yes sir! Dobby is being glad to help out Harry Potter! Dobby will keep Harry Potter's secrets he will, oh yes!'

Before the house-elf could start waxing lyrical about Harry's greatness and kindness, Harry hurriedly cut him off, 'Er that's great Dobby, I want you to just give this letter to Gornuk in Gringotts, he is my account manager.' With that, he took out the letter he had written and held it out to Dobby.

Dobby's large eyes became positively luminous at the prospect of being a courier for Harry. Positively vibrating in place with excitement he took the letter and babbled, 'Dobby will get this letter to Harry Potter's account manager immediately!'

'I expect that Gornuk will be replying, so could you wait for it?'

At this Dobby began to tear up, 'Harry Potter is asking Dobby if Dobby is wanting to do something for him! Harry Potter sir is too kind and great, treating Dobby as an equal! Don't worry sir, Dobby will be sending letter to Harry Potter sir's Goblin and will be waiting for reply.'

With that Dobby popped out with the letter. Harry chuckled; talking to Dobby was always an uplifting experience. He wondered what Gornuk would think at being called "Harry Potter's Goblin" ... the goblin might in all probability attack the elf with his bare hands. Harry doubted that he would need a weapon, those nails and teeth looked lethal enough. Harry wasn't too worried; he was pretty sure that Dobby could take care of himself, judging by what he had done to Lucius Malfoy all those years back. He wondered who would win in a fight...

Erasing his current thoughts of gladiatorial tournaments between House-elf and Goblin, Harry cleared his mind and paced in front of the room, picturing an office. Entering, he noted the large comfortable room with large windows in front of him, letting in the late evening summer sun onto a large mahogany desk situated in front of it. Behind the desk was one of those high backed leather swivel chairs that Harry had seen once before.

Sinking into the comfortable chair, Harry let out a groan of pleasure as the chair practically moulded itself to him.

He had just gotten comfortable when Dobby popped back in holding a scroll of parchment and two folders. Placing these on the desk Dobby stepped back and asked, 'Is there anything else you is needing sir?'

Harry stopped spinning the chair upon Dobby's entrance and (slightly dizzy) took the scroll saying, 'Not right now thanks Dobby. You are a life saver! If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask and if it's within my power I will help you.'

'Dobby is glad to be helping the good and kind Harry Potter!' said Dobby, bowing deeply till his nose was nearly touching the ground. Straightening, Dobby looked a bit apprehensive as if he wanted to ask Harry something.

'Is everything alright Dobby?'

'Dobby is fine sir! But-' Dobby broke off nervously as if dreading Harry's response to what he was about to say, ''Tis the other elves sir, Dobby knows not how to say-'

'Are they giving you trouble Dobby?' Harry said, concerned for the little elf. Despite his hyperactivity and penchant for having potentially lethal ideas for saving his life, Harry had gotten attached to the elf, and could not bear seeing him in trouble. 'They aren't hurting you or anything, are they?'

'Oh no sir, they is not giving Dobby any trouble sir! They may not be liking that Dobby is getting paying sir or that Dobby is wearing clothes. But they is not hurting Dobby, they leaves Dobby alone and lets Dobby get on with his work.'

'Oh, then what is the problem?' said a relieved Harry. Frankly he had no idea what he would have done if the elves had actually been abusing Dobby. Truth to be told, the little buggers could be rather scary. Harry had seen firsthand what an angry elf could do if given incentive and had no desire in being at the receiving end, thank you very much.

'Actually sir, some elves are being in trouble. Dobby is wanting to help them, but is not knowing how,' said the elf haltingly. 'So Dobby is wondering if Harry Potter is being able to help,' the elf looked hopeful as he completed his statement.

Intrigued, Harry said, 'Sure thing Dobby, I will see what can be done. I will need some time though.' He pointed to the folder. 'Perhaps I can meet you in the kitchens in an hour or so?' he said, hoping that he wasn't about to get in over his head.

'Dobby is not expecting Harry Potter sir to be helping! Sir is truly kind and good! Dobby will be telling the other elves the good news now,' saying that, the house-elf disappeared with a loud crack.

Smiling, Harry turned his attention to the scroll. Opening it, he began to read:

Dear, Mr. Potter,

We recognise the urgency of conducting the ritual and agree that the date and the venue would be ideal in this situation. Ergo, Grimjaw and I will be conducting and witnessing the ritual. Please meet us outside the haunted structure in Hogsmeade at Nine PM tonight. Also, I have included the total holdings of both the families that you are shortly going to be Head of for you to study at your leisure.

Yours Faithfully,

Gornuk

Harry opened the folders to find a list of all the properties that he owned. From the Potter file he noted that aside from one or two small holiday homes found in various exotic locations, along with the house in Godric's Hollow, he owned townhouses in London and Edinburgh as well as the Potter Ancestral home which for all intents and purposes sounded like a small castle located in an unplottable section of Holy Island in Wales surrounded by large tracts of farmland. There was a small magical settlement nearby (it was too small to be called a village) and was named after the muggle town of Holyhead. Harry also saw that he owned the local Quidditch team and a stadium there too. Other properties were mainly small business premises in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, as well as plantations in Africa, Asia and South America, and a Dragon Reserve in Romania.

From the Black Family was Black Isle located at the south of England a few miles off Plymouth. It too had a castle which was slightly larger than the Potter one surrounded by an even larger farmland, with a decent sized village nearby. Other properties included a large mansion located in Fairy's Glen in Skye as well as Grimmauld Place in London. Aside from that, there were a few vineyards found in France, a few plantations in the Caribbean and what looked like a good portion of Knockturn Alley.

Harry also noted that both families had (curiously enough) large tobacco plantations.

Harry set aside that for the moment, taking note to ask Gornuk about that later. Checking the time with a quick Tempus, he noted that it was half past five.

Harry shrunk and pocketed the files and made his way to the kitchens, wondering what was troubling Dobby.

As he turned the handle that appeared after tickling the pear in the painting of the fruit-bowl, he was greeted by the undivided attention of five slightly drunk elves wearing vaguely familiar woollen hats. Looking around Harry noticed that they were surrounded by the other elves that were looking at him with suspicion and a little fear.

'What is going on?' asked Harry looking at them with trepidation and a bit of bemusement (the five elves did look a bit funny tottering around like that).

The sober elves muttered to each other before one of them stepped forward and said in a rather accusatory tone, 'You is one of them you is! Tally has seen youse with her!' she shuddered at the last word, causing the other elves to gasp and shrink away from Harry as if he were carrying some disease.

'Who?' asked Harry nonplussed, wondering what was going on.

'You-Know-Who!' wailed Tally

'Voldemort? Why would I be with him? Besides, he's a he, not a she,' replied Harry exasperated.

'No, not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,' said Tally with uncharacteristic impatience after the customary flinching at Voldemort's name, 'We house-elves is not being so afraid of him no more! Not now that we have met...her!' said Tally whispering the last word with venom. 'She is more terrible and evil than He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. She is ...The Clothes Maker,' said Tally, looking left and right. The other house-elves shuddered as one and started looking around as if afraid that they might be suddenly attacked by some unknown force.

Bewildered, Harry found himself looking around as well before he could stop himself. Whoever this person was, she seemed to have terrified the elves even more than Voldemort, especially since they seemed to be afraid of even using the moniker they had given her. He cast his eyes to the elves at the centre and noticed that they looked rather woebegone.

'What happened to them?' he said, indicating the five elves.

'They is being affected by ... her,' said Tally whispering the last word.

Harry looked again at those elves; the hats they were wearing looked familiar...

'Hang on, are you talking about Hermione?' said Harry incredulously, finally recognising the elves were wearing Hermione's earliest creations.

Upon hearing her name, the elves all clapped their hands over their ears and started shrieking in distress, their high pitched voices so loud and tiny that they seemed to lance through Harry's ears and pierce his brain literally bringing him to his knees.

'Alright, alright, calm down! I won't mention her name again!' he shouted struggling to be heard over their frantic voices.

'SHUT UP!' he bellowed, throwing his hands up. In his desperation, he caused fireworks to come out of his hand with a blast like a cannon which finally silenced the hysterical elves. Harry took a moment to look at his hand in wonderment in the ringing silence before addressing the elves.

'Okay, now tell me what Her-She has done that you are so afraid of her,' said Harry stopping himself from saying Hermione's name at the last minute when he saw the elves ready to start off again.

Dobby took this moment to pop into existence, his colourful clothes contrasting with the whites of the other Hogwarts Elves. Finally spotting an elf that seemed to be the most sane at the moment (and that wasn't saying much) a relieved Harry directed his next question to him, 'Dobby, what the bloody hell is going on here?' he said gesturing at the other elves.

Dobby looked around and came closer to Harry causing Harry to crouch to his level. He said in a low voice that would not be heard by the elves surrounding them, 'It's Harry Potter's 'Rangy sir. She has been upsetting the other elveses by giving them clothes'

'Hang on I thought that the situation was resolved already at the beginning.'

'You see sir,' began Dobby nervously, 'They is no longer being Hogwarts' house-elves since Harry Potter's 'Rangy freed them.'

'Wait, how is Hermione giving them clothes freeing them? I mean, you guys do the students' laundry as well ...' said Harry.

'Oh no sir, house-elves can pick up dirty clothes left around. They can only be freed when their master personally hands them clothes. Missus 'Rangy made clothes for elves and left them under rubbish for them to find as a gift. This made the elves free when they picked them up sir.'

'Oh,' said Harry slowly cottoning on. 'So what you are saying is that to free an elf, you need to gift or personally hand them clothes?' Seeing Dobby nod he continued, 'So why don't they leave and find another place to work?'

'Well sir, they is still being bound to the castle even if they is being freed from service sir. Unless they find another master they cannot leave the castle without permission from the headmaster,' said Dobby. 'And Headmaster Dumbledore was being too busy to talk to us house-elves sir.' He continued looking slightly crestfallen.

Harry understood what they were feeling all too well. Besides, it wasn't as if Umbridge would deign to listen to them either. Suddenly seeing where this was going, he said, 'Is this what you wanted me to help you with Dobby?'

Dobby looked up at him hopefully. 'Dobby is hoping that the great Harry Potter could talk to Professor Dumbledore and help them sir,' he said waving his hand at the five elves.

Harry really had no desire of speaking to Dumbledore again, especially not so soon. Thinking a bit he said, 'The elves are bound to the school till they find a master and cannot leave the castle to find one as they haven't been given permission by the headmaster.'

'Yes Harry Potter sir,' said Dobby nodding,

'But what if they find a master without leaving the castle; will they no longer be bound to the castle?' Upon receiving another nod from Dobby, Harry asked curiously. 'Why do they need a master anyway Dobby?'

'House-elves like being bound to wizards and working for them sir,' interjected Tally who until then had been pretending that she hadn't been eavesdropping into the conversation. 'We likes to serve. Besides, wizard magic makes us stronger. Not that she understands,' she added, the waspish tone sounding out of place on her small body. She muttered to herself much to Harry's amusement, 'Tally tried and tried to make her understand, but she never listens.'

'I may have a solution for them then,' Harry stood up to address the other elves looking on curiously in general and the five house-elves in particular. 'It has been brought to my notice that you five elves have been freed from service by the tyrannical Clothes Maker,' he paused as they winced, 'and are looking for new masters to work for. Well, I am going to be inheriting new homes soon and will need elves to keep them habitable and carry out repairs. Will you be willing to work for me?' Harry reckoned that he would need some elves to help with the upkeep of his properties as he didn't know how many he had. Besides, house-elves were dead useful and he was not about to pass up the chance to have five of them!

Harry suddenly found his legs being attacked by five very grateful (and still drunk) elves who were breaking into paroxysms of joy and expressing their undying gratitude while their employed colleagues had either burst into happy tears or were joyfully dancing and praising "the Great and Generous Harry Potter."

Perhaps the glass of wine that he had earlier at lunch was stronger than what he was used to or perhaps Harry was still high over the illicit nature of the trip that he had taken and what he had done and was about to do under Dumbledore's and the Ministry's nose. But whatever it was, Harry found himself actually enjoying having the elves heap praises on him and revelling in the attention being given to him whereas he would have normally blushed with embarrassment in the past.

Amidst all this celebration, Harry noticed that Dobby seemed to be a bit unhappy. It didn't take much of a genius to figure out what the matter was with him, 'Do you want to work for me as well Dobby?'

At this, Dobby's expression changed to one of incredulous joy, 'Dobby would be honoured to be working for the Great Harry Potter. Dobby has also been wanting to be Harry Potter's elf for ages!'

'Very well, how much would you want as a salary?'

'Dobby is not wanting paying anymore, not that he is now working for the Good and Kind Harry Potter sir!'

Surprised at this, Harry crouched down to Dobby's level again, 'What about being free and earning wages? I thought that it was what you really wanted ...' Harry's voice trailed off at the end questioningly.

'Dobby enjoyed being a free elf for awhile, but Dobby has grown tired of it. Dobby is now ready to settle down with a nice family,' said Dobby gravely.

'Well Dobby were you anybody else, I probably would have taken that the wrong way. But since it's you ... welcome to the family!' said Harry gesturing grandly. Dobby was the icing on the cake, Harry somehow found that he liked the elf, he really was a great ego booster; what with the way he kept going on and on about how great Harry was. Harry supposed that he could keep Dobby as his personal house elf.

Harry shook himself out of those thoughts and addressed all six of his soon to be house-elves. 'I will come down tomorrow and we can set up the bonding ceremony then. It will give you a chance to clean up and stuff. Now, I am feeling a bit peckish, so dinner would be nice.' As he said this, his stomach growled loudly.

At once the elves got busy and before he could blink Harry found himself seated at a table with a large spread of all his favourites. Harry dug in, feeling ravenously hungry despite the large lunch that he had partaken in. He was barely able to stagger out of the kitchens later on due to the amount of food he had eaten. The elves had definitely gone all out to show their gratitude for saving them and their way of life. They had even given him a large helping of the best treacle tart he had ever tasted.

Feeling good about himself, Harry checked the time at the nearest available magical clock (he really needed to get a wristwatch for himself) and found that it was nearing nine. Cursing, Harry bolted towards the grounds, putting on his Invisibility Cloak that he had the foresight to take with him and wrapping it around himself. He also activated the charms around his necklace as an added precaution.

However, he did not encounter anybody on his way outside. He slipped out through the main doors and out into the dying rays of sunlight. Making his way to the Whomping Willow, he froze the tree by prodding the knot and slipped inside.

Emerging out in the Shrieking Shack, Harry removed his cloak and made his way outside to the front of the house. Coming outside, he spied the two Goblins who had just arrived with a flash of light.

'Good evening Gornuk, Grimjaw,' said Harry approaching the two goblins, 'Shall we get on with it then?'

'Indeed Mr. Potter, lead the way,' said Gornuk.

Harry led them back into the shack to their (well hidden) surprise. Pressing the knot on the tree, he led the two out into the Hogwarts grounds. Grimjaw said doubtfully, 'I hope you have a suitable place set up for the ritual Mr. Potter? This ritual is complex after all.'

Harry just smirked and said, 'Follow me just ensure that you are not seen.' With that, he slipped the cloak on. Before they moved on, Gornuk said, 'May I cast a tracking charm on you Mr. Potter? I presume that I would need your permission,' he said leadingly. 'After all, we won't be able to see each other since we will be invisible.' Unseen by the goblins Harry nodded, he hadn't thought of that and was glad somebody had.

'Go ahead,' he said, feeling a tingle of magic emanating from his wrist indicating his consent. Gornuk waved his hand and paused, a troubled expression on his face. Seeing this, Harry uncovered his head and said, 'Is something the matter?'

Frowning, Gornuk said, 'I tried to place the tracking charm on you but it has failed for some reason. Are you sure that any tracking charms I cast can be placed on you?'

Nodding Harry said, 'I felt the magic signalling the device's acceptance of my instructions.'

Gornuk tried casting the charm again, 'Interesting, it works now that you have uncovered your head. I think that the cloak has been blocking any spells that I cast on you. If that indeed is the case and that cloak is indeed what I think it is, then I suggest that you keep that cloak safe. Its value has gone up considerably.'

Harry nodded and covered his head while the goblins placed Disillusionment Charms on themselves. The invisible party then headed towards the castle. Harry then proceeded to led them up towards the Seventh Floor. The two goblins looked at their surroundings with expressions of open interest. Not that Harry could see that.

Harry stopped at the tapestry and removed his cloak causing the goblins to drop their charms as well. 'This area is a bit small for the ritual Mr. Potter' said Grimjaw in a sceptical tone.

Instead of answering Harry just paced in front of the wall. Just as they were beginning to get concerned about his mental health, a door appeared in front of the goblins out of nowhere to their shock.

Smirking at the reactions he had incited in the normally collected creatures, Harry opened the room and said dryly, 'Will this be enough gentlemen?'

Gobsmacked, the goblins numbly stepped through the door and saw a high ceilinged room with two concentric runic circles with a large but shallow circular basin in the middle made of what the goblins found to be a highly magical and rare form of platinum.

Recovering quickly from their shock, the goblins turned to Harry and nodded. 'This room more than suits our purposes Mr. Potter. In fact, loathe as I am to admit this, it is even better than the ritual room that we use in Gringotts.' Said Grimjaw, 'and we spent billions of Galleons and two years worth of labour to get ours done,' he muttered to himself.

'It seems that Mr. Potter has managed to escape from incurring extra expenses,' said Gornuk in a slightly disappointed tone. 'In fact it's Gringotts who would end up paying to use this room, a lot of goblins would kill just to be able to see this room!' he continued in awe. Realising that Harry had heard what he had just said, both the goblins shut their mouths with an audible snap.

Harry just grinned and said, 'It looks like the both of us benefit from this venture then. Your discretion and time for a once in a lifetime opportunity to use the best ritual room you have ever seen for free! The bragging rights you will have with the other goblins can be considered an added bonus.'

'It looks like you have the makings of a fine businessman Mr. Potter,' said Grimjaw sardonically. 'You will make for an interesting client.'

Then the goblins quickly got down to business. Grimjaw took out the vial of blood he had shown Harry earlier while Gornuk took out a piece of parchment and gave to Harry to sign saying 'This shows that the ritual has been conducted and that you are fully aware of its consequences and are willingly taking part in it. We will be taking care of the location later on,' Gornuk finished with a smirk.

After Harry signed Grimjaw spoke in a businesslike tone. 'Very well, Mr. Potter, as you are the main subject of this ritual, you will have to enter the circle just as yourself. That means no possessions on your body ... including clothes,' he ended with a smirk.

Blushing, Harry removed the necklace and bracelet before stripping down to his newly bought pants with the aeroplane outlines on them (the jeans fell down to his ankles almost immediately when he unbuckled his belt). He tried to act natural and ignore Gornuk's amused expression as he watched Grimjaw removed the stopper and poured half the contents of the vial of Sirius' blood into the basin chanting under his breath in a strange language. Harry noted that the vial definitely contained more than a litre of blood.

As Grimjaw finished, Harry slowly lowered his pants and at Grimjaw's signal lay down spread-eagled partially submerged in the blood, trying not to choke on the smell or think of whom the blood once belonged to.

Grimjaw then proceeded to draw strange runes all over Harry's body with the remaining blood, all the while chanting softly in a guttural language. He had some difficulty at the ribs and feet (Harry was rather ticklish there) and at the crotch (Harry was male and fifteen), but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

Gornuk then said, 'We are now conducting a ritual to adopt Harry James Potter into the house of Black. He is to be adopted by the previous heir of House Black, Sirius Black and will inherit the headship of the Black name and will be considered a full member of the family. After this ritual he shall be known as Harry James Potter-Black.'

With this Grimjaw started to trace the other runes in the two concentric circles with the last of the blood. Finishing, the two goblins started to chant a bit louder.

Magic started building as the goblins finished chanting, forming a dome around Harry. Seeing this, the goblins slipped out of the room, Gornuk leaving a note on Harry's clothes. They had played their part, now everything was left to Harry.

As the magic grew, Harry initially felt the blood in the runes painted on his body evaporate. He noticed that the red colour had changed to a deep luminous blue, which he supposed was magic. He then felt the blood beneath him slowly creep up to cover his body while at the same time feeling a stinging pain across his front as he saw his own blood leak out of and pool around the runes drawn mixing with Sirius' blood. As this was happening, Harry thought of Sirius and the times they had spent together. He tried to distract himself from feeling the pain by focusing on his feelings for Sirius.

As Harry's heart filled with emotion for the second time in a day, the dome of magic above him gained a golden hue, as the effects of the ritual became enhanced by the love Harry felt towards Sirius. This was something rarely seen and made the filial bond between Harry and Sirius even stronger: Something that would be seen much later when Harry would do an inheritance test at Gringotts.

As Harry slowly lost consciousness, the blood in the basin was absorbed into his body. As the last drop disappeared into his body, the ritual came to its full conclusion, the runic circles disappeared and the room became barren leaving only the unmarked nude body of a peacefully sleeping wizard formerly known as Harry Potter and his things.

A special thanks to FirePhoenix86 for helping me with the chapter!

And a thank you to the people who like this story so far ... you know who you are!

4. Freiheit! Er, sort of

Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Looking at his state of undress reminded him of his ritual. Wanting to see what he looked like, he thought of a mirror. As one appeared, he stepped up to it and studied his body closely.

He hadn't paid special attention to his reflection the day before when he had gone shopping since he was in a hurry to get clothes, which is why he was surprised to find quite a few changes on his body; beyond the glaringly obvious improvement in his height and eyesight, the slight musculature he had acquired through years of physical activity had improved slightly gaining some definition (he was pretty happy with the six pack he was now sporting). All the scars on his body (and they were numerous) had also disappeared, the only exceptions being the scar left from the Basilisk fang, which had faded somewhat, though he wasn't too unhappy with that (it was a souvenir of an epic battle with a basilisk after all-which he had won by the way) and he was more than pleased that the marks on the back of his hand (a by-product of the numerous detentions with that sadistic toad Umbridge) had completely disappeared leaving unmarked skin.

Bolstered by this, Harry eagerly lifted his fringe to see if his lightning bolt scar had gone as well. He was disappointed to know that the scar still remained, though it no longer looked inflamed. In fact, it had thinned out and faded somewhat, looking very much like a regular scar.

Other than that, Harry was puzzled that there wasn't much in the way of physical changes. He expected that the adoption ritual would have done something like that, but his eyes were still the same shade of green, his hair still jet black and unruly, and his nose the same shape.

Turning around, Harry went to get dressed. As he pulled on his clothes, he saw a piece of parchment fall out. Picking it up, he opened it to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

By the time you are reading this, the ritual would have reached its completion. If the ritual has succeeded (and I am sure it would have) then you should have woken up to find no trace of the blood used on your person or in the surroundings. The runes drawn on you should fade within a few days, after which the physical changes will take place. Within a month or so, you will start to notice some of the physical characteristics of your adoptive parent. They will be slight, but noticeable if you know where to look. After this, you may start to exhibit some of the other traits found in the Black Family. Those will be further discussed when you later come to Gringotts.

Thus, Grimjaw and I have come to the conclusion that you should visit us on the eve of your sixteenth birthday for your heritage test and to legally record your name as Harry James Potter-Black (or any other name of your choosing). As Gringotts will be open twenty four hours a day and seven days a week, you can be assured that you will find entry into our establishment should you choose to come in at an odd time. Though a word of caution; some of our nightly customers are usually those who are active at such times to avoid detection if you know what I mean. It would be in your best interest to come in disguised. You would not look out of place with a hooded black cloak.

Yours faithfully,

Gornuk

Well this explains everything, thought Harry. He was slightly confused that the rune markings had already faded completely. Resolving to ask Gornuk about this later, he headed to the Dorms for a much needed bath.

After bathing, Harry put on a fresh set of his new clothes. As he was getting dressed, he suddenly noticed his glasses lying in the trunk. He figured that people would notice if he no longer needed his glasses. After all, that would be noticeable and it wasn't something that Harry could hide or explain away at the moment. His height had increased only by an inch or so and was hidden under the loose clothes that he had specifically chosen so wouldn't be as noticeable as his glasses.

Harry mentally cursed himself for not thinking about it. He was lucky that McGonagall hadn't twigged him, he supposed that having just returned from St. Mungo's had helped somewhat. He also had not given Dean and Seamus much of a chance to look at him properly since he was already on his way out when they had come in.

Stopping for the moment, Harry took his wand out and Vanished the lenses in his glasses. He concentrated and conjured a fresh pair of plain clear lenses with no prescription into the frame. He was gratified to notice that the lenses had materialised properly and easily (transfiguration hadn't always been a strong suit for him).

Harry placed his sort of new glasses on his face feeling the familiar weight back on his nose and walked out of the dorms.

He noticed that it was late in the morning, meaning that the others would be out in the Great Hall having lunch. Harry also realised with a start that by now everybody would have read the Daily Prophet and by now know the full truth. And more importantly, the fact that he was in the middle of it. He also realised with apprehension that there might be a lot of people wandering about in the castle since it was a Sunday.

Harry reckoned that they would not be specifically searching for him and so activated his necklace again and walked out into the common room with trepidation. He was glad to find that nobody paid him any attention. He quickly got moving as he was sure that he would be noticed if he stayed still for too long. Moving out of the portrait hole he walked leisurely towards the kitchens revelling in the anonymity that the chain was affording him.

As he entered the kitchens, he remembered the promise he had made to six elves as five slightly hung over elves and one over hyper Dobby all swarmed him within minutes of noticing him. Smiling bemusedly at them, Harry noticed a seventh slightly hung over elf. 'Is there something I can help you with Winky?' he asked the elf.

Winky's eyes moistened at Harry asking her that question before saying hopefully, 'Winky heard tell that Harry Potter is looking for good house-elves, and was going to take Dobby and five others. Winky be wondering if Harry Potter wanted another elf as well.' She looked at Harry with large hopeful eyes.

Oh lovely, bond five get two free! Thought Harry sardonically before immediately squashing those thoughts; house-elves were dead useful after all, and he did have a lot of properties in his name, so the more the merrier as far as he was concerned. 'Do you want to be bonded to me?' he asked.

Winky immediately brightened up and looking disturbingly like a tomato shaped nose female version of Dobby said, 'Yes! Yes Harry Potter Sir! I is being the bestest house-elf ever I is!' She either ignored or didn't notice the disdainful and challenging looks from the other five elves and the slightly murderous look in Dobby's eyes.

Harry looked at the byplay with interest. It looks like Dobby and Winky won't be getting together anytime soon ... unless they are the elfish version of Ron and Hermione ... No! Bad Image, Bad Image! Shaking his head of disturbing thoughts of ginger and bushy headed elves, Harry said as instructed by the elves, 'I Harry James Potter-Black do hereby take the house-elves Willy, Nilly, Dilly, Dally, Twinky, Dobby and Winky into the Houses of Black and Potter. So mote it be.' He felt a good deal of pleasure upon adding his godfather's surname. As soon as he said this, the seven elves' motley collection of clothing was replaced by tea-towel togas adorned with a shield divided diagonally with what Harry recognised as the Potter and Black crests adorning the upper left and right sections.

Harry didn't trust himself to say anything currently as he was sure that he had sprained a rib or two trying not to laugh at the elves' names. He really wasn't sure how he had managed to say those names together with a straight face. He supposed this was mainly why Amos Diggory avoided enunciating their names as much as possible. There really isn't any way you can say 'Winky' and sound stern and commanding at the same time.

Harry also noticed that the elves actually looked happier than they had been before. They certainly didn't seem that depressed any more. Even Dobby looked happier than Harry had seen him before, if that was in any way possible.

Harry got down to business, 'Right, I don't really have anything for you to do right now, I will call you a little later on and give you your instructions.' The elves nodded and disappeared as Harry sat down to eat a large English breakfast.

After he had finished, Tally came up to him and asked what Harry planned to do about Hermione and her freeing elves against their own will. Harry said that he would think about it and will have a plan by the beginning of the next academic year. 'Besides, it's not like she will have the time to do anything for the next few days since she is in the hospital wing,' he said. Appeased, Tally and the other elves went back to work in better spirits.

Harry supposed that it would be a good time to go and visit his friends in the hospital wing now. He supposed that Ron and Hermione would be awake by now. Though he was concerned for Luna Neville and Ginny, he wasn't as worried because realistically speaking, they had suffered minor injuries. Though with the way Madame Pomfrey was, Harry supposed that they would only be released today.

So with that in mind, Harry set off towards the hospital wing.

Upon entering, he saw Neville coming out of the bathroom fully dressed.

'Alright mate?' Harry asked tentatively. He didn't know how Neville would be around him, he had led them into a trap after all which had led to a confrontation with the woman who had driven his parents insane. Harry did recognise that it wasn't his fault that Neville had ended up fighting for his life; he and the others had followed him voluntarily despite Harry's objections and warnings of the dangers.

He needn't have to worry as Neville greeted him with a smile on his face, 'Hey Harry, it's good to see you again. I hadn't seen you yesterday and I was getting worried-'

'I'm fine Neville,' said Harry with an airy wave of his hand, 'In fact I've never felt better. I'm sorry I didn't come yesterday but I had ... things ... to deal with and wasn't really in the mood to see Madame Pomfrey.' He said a bit haltingly, before adding with a half smile and a faux cheery tone, 'And I was afraid of stepping out and doing anything. It's going to be the first time in my Hogwarts career that I haven't ended up in the hospital wing and I don't really want to jinx it!'

'True that,' Neville chuckled

'How are you Neville?' said Harry in a serious tone. Neville had taken a Cruciatus curse and Harry knew that it wasn't a picnic, (and factoring in Harry's high tolerance for pain, that was saying something) so he was worried about Neville's reaction as it was his first dose of that particular curse or of any substantial pain after all.

'I'm alright,' said Neville easily, 'Pomfrey fixed my nose in a jiffy. She did dose me with dreamless sleep as well as a pain relief potion though.' He added with a wince, 'In fact I only just got discharged.'

As he said that, the aforementioned nurse materialised, 'Mr Potter, I was wondering when you would be gracing the hospital wing this year.' She advanced towards Harry, her wand raised. 'What have you got yourself into this time?'

Before she could start casting, Harry interrupted her hastily, 'It's nothing, honest! I only came to visit my friends. Where are Ginny and Luna?' He looked around the room searching for them. He spied Ron and Hermione lying on beds not very far away.

The kindly matron looked faintly surprised. 'Well that's a first,' she muttered. Noticing where he was looking, she said, 'Miss Weasley and Miss Lovegood are fine. Nothing a spell and some bed rest couldn't cure. These two however,' she waved in the direction where Ron and Hermione were sleeping, 'Were a bit tricky. They should be awake in a few moments in fact.'

At that, Ginny and Luna emerged from the privacy screens at the end of the room fully clothed. Harry greeted them nervously; while Neville seemed to be fine with things, he had no idea what Ginny and Luna were feeling about being in the ministry. Ginny was a redhead, and judging by his ginger best friend, Harry reckoned that his sister would be just about as volatile and temperamental as her older brother. And as for Luna; the less said the better. The girl was as predictable and easy to read as Trelawney's tea leaves.

Again, Harry found his apprehension to be unfounded as both girls greeted him cheerily (and in Luna's case, dreamily).

After assuring each other that they were well, the four sat down around the still sleeping members of their gang. Harry sat down on the bed opposite Ron's while the girls and Neville sat in chairs around. 'So what happened to Ron that made him so loopy?' asked Harry. From what he could make out of his friend that wasn't covered by the blankets, Ron's arms were covered in bandages.

'Oh, like I said before, we were in this room full of planets where Ron was hit in the back with what I think was a strong Confundus charm,' said Luna airily as if she was discussing the weather.

'I think it was Jugson who hit him,' interjected Ginny, 'as for the brains ... well, according to Madame Pomfrey, they have attacked him with a physical manifestation of thoughts. She reckons that beside the welts, there should be no damage.'

'Hermione was a bit tricky though,' said Neville again. 'According to Pomfrey, the curse Dolohov hit her with caused a lot of damage. She says that it was lucky that he was silenced otherwise the spell would have been lethal.'

Harry digested this in. Then looking curiously at Luna he said, 'What are you doing here? Were you hurt too?'

'I am fine, thank you Harry,' said Luna with a smile. 'Madame Pomfrey wanted to make sure of that, so she stuck me in a bed for the day.' Harry rolled his eyes at the over protectiveness of the matron only to quickly smooth his face as the matron came in.

At the same time, Ron and Hermione started to come back to awareness. The matron first attended to Hermione, after checking on her, she handed her a bevy of potions to drink. Instructing Neville to ensure that they were all drunk, she turned her attention to Ron.

After checking on him and finding nothing wrong with him beyond the welts that he had on his arms, Madame Pomfrey removed the bandages and started applying a large amount of a foul smelling ointment.

Her work done, Madame Pomfrey left for her office. Harry smiled on seeing his two oldest and best friends up and on the road to recovery.

An hour later as he was exiting from the hospital wing, he wasn't smiling anymore. He really should have expected it after all. After reading the Sunday Prophet, Hermione had spent little to no time at all in finding about what had happened after she had lost consciousness and even lesser time after that hounding Harry about how he felt about the whole thing. Harry did understand that she had just found out about it, but it really wasn't her business. He was thankful that Luna had managed to distract her so that he could make his escape ... he wondered if the air of dottiness that she put up was an act.

But what really troubled Harry was when he was talking to them, he could somehow read Hermione's thoughts the minute she met his eyes. He didn't really know how that happened, but the galling fact was that she actually seemed smug about being right even though she was trying to hide it!

Now confused and bothered, Harry decided to go into the grounds to think. As he walked out into the hot summer sun, he headed to a secluded spot near the lake that he had discovered a while back. He was greeted by many students on the way holding copies of the Sunday Prophet as if to say that they all believed him all along or that they had decided that like the Daily Prophet, that he wasn't a deranged attention seeking liar after all.

Had this happened a few days back, Harry would have been more than happy to finally have everybody believe him and not think of him as a raving lunatic. Now, he could care less. This year had taught him that the public could be very fickle.

As Harry sat down behind some bushes looking toward the lake, hidden from view, he started reviewing what he had done so far in the last two days. He really couldn't believe that it was that long. That just yesterday early morning he had come back from a fight to the death. That Sirius had died ... Harry wiped the tears from his eyes. He couldn't really wrap his head around the fact that Sirius had actually died and so he had trouble feeling the grief he knew he should be feeling. He suspected that he would have a wonderful breakdown very soon, but it wouldn't be for a while yet.

He then thought about the happenings in Diagon Alley and in Muggle London as well. He wondered how he had managed to Apparate. He hadn't Apparated before at all; that too wandlessly. And speaking of wandless, had he actually managed to quiet the elves by shooting fireworks without a wand? Then again, that wasn't the first time. He didn't have a wand in his hand when he had cast that Lumos last summer when the Dementors had attacked. He distinctly remembered that he wasn't touching his wand at that time.

Then there was how calm he was feeling. He had trouble in the past controlling his emotions, so how had he managed to stay in control? Come to think of it, his mind felt rather organised and structured. Something he imagined he would feel if he was a master at Occlumency.

Harry sifted through his recent memories that to his surprise were catalogued and clear. He also noticed that they were all catalogued from after the possession incident at the ministry...

And then it hit him; the vision he had seen while being possessed and the black smoke coming out from his scar. Could it be that he had somehow unknowingly absorbed Voldemort's memories and knowledge?

Harry had to test this theory out; so he screwed his face up trying to remember something of Voldemort's memories. But he was disappointed as all he got was a few disjointed fragments. He then tried to see if he could bring up the shield that he had seen Voldemort make during the duel against Dumbledore to see if he had Voldemort's knowledge. Harry could get a vague feeling that he knew the name of the spell that would bring it up, but for the life of him could not remember the incantation. It was like it was on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach.

Frustrated, Harry gave up. He couldn't even remember the theory behind Apparition or Occlumency save knowing how to do each. He supposed he could also do Legilimency but would have to test that theory out. He had a feeling that he had invariably done it with Hermione, but that event was too random to be counted. After all, it could have been a figment of his imagination.

Harry sighed in defeat and not a little disappointment. He supposed that he would have to build his spell repertoire on his own after all. It really was a shame, but he supposed that getting all of Voldemort's knowledge would have been too easy.

He decided to look on the positive side of things. He actually felt light as if a great burden and strain on his magic had been removed, a strain he had no idea that he was bearing all these years. He also felt a closer connection to his magic. And on top of it he had never felt so good physically. There was a distinct lack of a sort of tiredness that he had felt all these years without knowing it.

Harry then turned his thoughts to the prophecy that Dumbledore had oh so graciously deigned to share with him. He was a marked man, and had been so ever since he was born. He supposed he should feel angry with Trelawney, but he knew that it wasn't her fault. She was only the messenger. It was Voldemort and Dumbledore who had decided that the prophecy had meaning.

And speaking of Dumbledore, Harry was angry that Dumbledore hadn't done anything to prepare him for this destiny. Why hadn't he been given some type of training? In his humble opinion, Harry was rather powerful. After all, he had cast a Corporeal Patronus at the age of thirteen. Though come to think of it, he was rather average in his classes. His marks weren't anything great; sure in another world, they would be something to talk about, but they really weren't enough. Harry never had seen the need to apply himself in class. He supposed that it was a habit that he had gained from the Dursleys. They never really liked it when he had performed better than Dudley, so he was forced to underperform to make their oaf of a son look smarter. That had become a habit, Harry realised with a jolt. And his friends hadn't really helped at all.

Ron was always slacking off, and Harry supposed (with a little jealousy) that it was all well and good for him since he didn't have an insane Dark Lord after him. No, Ron would get to live a life that was going to be as stress free and as normal as possible. And Hermione while smart and driven to be the best was too much of a fanatic. So much so that Harry actually dreaded studying with her to the point of not wanting to study much at all. Her methods of studying really did not suit Harry; she depended too much on her text books. Though he did listen to her now and then ... she did make some good points at times.

Well, that was going to change, Harry vowed to himself. He knew that he was smart, and he knew that he loved to learn new things. He just needed to tap that part of him that had been deeply buried within him for such a long time. His survival depended upon it after all. And it wasn't as if the Dursleys were ever going to see or care about his marks anyway.

With new resolve, Harry got up and headed inside. He had spells to learn, books to peruse and training to do. And not much time to do them all.

5. Fun With A Toad

It was the day after Ron and Hermione had awakened when Harry entered the hospital wing to find them as well as Neville, Ginny and Luna who had decided to visit as well. They were all looking at a bed at the far end of the hospital wing with a look of utmost loathing in their eyes. Harry followed their gaze and what he saw made his blood boil. Lying peacefully at the other end was Dolores Umbridge.

With a supreme effort, Harry managed to rein in his turbulent emotions (he did not want to alert anyone of his feelings). The sight of that evil toad had made Harry see red. He never thought that he would be able to hate anybody more than he hated that woman. She was right up there next to Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort. But, Harry thought maliciously, the important difference here was that Harry could actually do something about it.

Harry smiled coldly to himself for a brief second before quickly schooling his expression and turning his attention back to the conversation that was occurring around him.

'-dunno, she was there this morning when I woke up,' said Ron.

'How did she get here?' asked Neville with an odd hardness in his tone,

'I saw Dumbledore carrying her inside last night when I woke up for a brief while, she hasn't changed her position,' said Hermione. 'I suspect that she is suffering from shock,' she continued.

'Wait, Dumbledore brought her in? How did he manage that?' said Harry incredulously.

'Well, it is Dumbledore we are talking about innit?' said Ron sagely as if Harry was slightly dim for even thinking of asking that question. 'He probably waltzed right in and plucked her off from the centaurs.'

'First and foremost, it is isn't it! Honestly Ron, there is no reason to butcher the English Language!' said Hermione in a bossy tone. Before she could start off on a rant that would probably degenerate into another patented Ron and Hermione Squabble, Neville interjected diplomatically.

'I don't expect that the centaurs would have been too happy with Dumbledore over that,' he said. He had noticed that irritated look on Harry's face at Ron's sentence and took measures to smooth things over. 'I have a feeling that the centaurs would have been pretty reluctant to hand over Umbridge over. I am surprised that they had acquiesced.'

'Well, he is the Headmaster,' said Hermione in a self righteous manner, 'They do respect him for that, as they should.' With that she looked meaningfully at Harry. Harry knew that she was talking about him breaking things at Dumbledore's office and his irritation grew; he wasn't sorry about the whole thing, though now he regretted ever telling her about it. He rolled his eyes at her, got up and said shortly, 'I have to go, I've got some things I need to do.' Nodding at the rest, he ignored Hermione's look of irritation and left the hospital wing silently vowing not to tell the witch everything anymore.

Fuming, he headed up towards The Room as he started calling it. He wanted to vent and learning some new curses was the best way to do so. On his way upstairs, he passed a doorway and froze; his foot still suspended in the air. Backing up, he gave a second look to the sign tacked sloppily on the door reading 'Headmistress', a slow grin forming on his face till it positively looked evil.

'And what are we up to Mr. Potter?' came a voice behind him just as he was about to open the door. 'Oh, it's you Ginny,' said Harry when he hurriedly turned around and saw her. 'I was, erm, redecorating,' he continued after noting the mischievous look in her eyes.

At this, Ginny's eyes lit up and became devious, 'Oh is that right?' she sounded eerily like her elder twin brothers. 'Want help?'

'Not really, but I think there's room enough for the two of us,' said Harry accommodatingly.

Ginny smiled at him and pulled out her wand. With a grand flourish, Harry opened the door and gestured, 'After you Miss Weasley.'

Giggling, Ginny entered with Harry following her into the garishly decorated room with a smirk.

'I claim the plates on the walls. I especially hated those,' he said, surveying the room and eyeing the kittens gambolling viciously. He noticed that Umbridge had collected more of the foul things till they dominated two of her four walls.

Ginny pouted cutely, 'Aw I wanted the kittens.' She looked up at him hopefully through her fringe. Finally relenting, Harry gestured at the walls and said, 'Fine, you take that half and I'll take this half. We'll meet at the centre above the mantle where the largest plate is.'

With that, they moved to the opposite directions. Harry raised his wand at the nearest plate and said with relish, 'Reducto.'

Immediately, the large technicolour kitten that was looking at him haughtily widened its eyes before diving to the neighbouring plate yowling loudly as the plate it was currently occupying blew up spectacularly.

Harry and Ginny both took their time destroying plate after plate watching as the obnoxious felines within scurried to the next plate. Finally reaching the largest plate at the centre, they took a moment to let the dust settle while watching all the cats within crowded up against each other in the largest plate looking at them in fear.

'Bye-bye kitties,' said Harry as he unleashed a final Reducto, shattering the plate.

Flushed, Harry looked at the rest of the room for his next target. Spotting the lace, he said, 'You take the doilies, I'll do the lace.' Upon receiving her nod, he began to imaginatively and systematically destroy the furniture in the office while Ginny destroyed the doilies and shredded the dried up plants within.

A few minutes later the two of them stood in the centre of the office and surveyed their handiwork. 'The room looks rather improved don't you think Ginny?' said Harry as he laid his eyes on the burnt armchairs that once had a flowery pattern.

'Oh yes, Harry. Personally I think that the black paint that you had splashed on the table linen is a nice improvement,' said Ginny surveying the tar like substance on the tables. 'I hear that black is the new pink anyway, and the smell!' She took a great big sniff. 'The smell is especially divine. A powerful mixture of burnt animal and wet dog, adding strength and body to the already strong smell of the month old rotting corpse of a particularly unhygienic mountain troll who had fallen into a pile of ten day old dragon dung and died,' she continued affecting a posh accent.

They looked at each other for a moment before breaking out into laughter.

'That was great Ginny!' said Harry wiping his eyes, 'Where did you learn that charm that sends out all that green gloop anyway?' he eyed the rancid neon green stuff with an expression of fascinated disgust. 'It's really foul!' He exclaimed holding his nose.

'Fred and George showed me that,' replied Ginny easily, 'I have wanted to use that for ages!' She enthused.

'I would love to learn that one.'

'I don't mind showing you,' said Ginny 'It's got the added bonus of being slimy and slippery. Banishing charms won't work on it and unless you know the correct counter, you will be forced to remove it using muggle methods. And it tends to stain if you try to remove using muggle methods.' She added with relish.

'Wicked,' said Harry, 'Care to show me now?'

'Sure,' said Ginny. 'The incantation is Caliga and you move your wand like this,' she made a sweeping motion with her wand. 'Keep sweeping the wand to and fro to get more of the stuff.'

Harry looked around the ruined (improved in his opinion) office and spied another door. Opening it he saw that it lead into Umbridge's private quarters which he noted with sadistic relish was even more flowery and full of little knick-knacks than her office.

'Caliga!' he shouted sweeping his wand in a wide arc. Immediately the poisonous green sludge started spewing out of his wand in a torrent. Harry held the spell for a while ensuring that it soaked the drawers and into Umbridge's clothes as well as her sheets which he noted were adorned with what only could be her family crest. The irony of the crest being a toad was not lost on him.

Ginny looked on amused at him, 'Had fun?'

'Definitely,' Harry beamed, 'That spell was bloody brilliant!'

'I'll be sure to tell the twins what you thought,' said Ginny with a smile. After a moment of silence, she asked in concern, 'Are you alright Harry?'

'I'm fine' replied Harry automatically. Ginny raised an eyebrow, 'Okay, not really,' he admitted, 'But I'm getting there. I just need my space and time.'

'I guess that is the best we can hope for huh?' said Ginny sympathetically. 'Sirius was a great guy, I've not been around him as long as you have, but spending summer with him was really fun.'

'Yeah,' said Harry. Changing the subject he said, 'Anyway, I have to go ... I enjoyed doing this by the way,' he said gesturing at the office and room.

'So did I,' said Ginny with a smile. 'The next time you need to desecra-er-decorate the personal quarters of any old hags, you know who to call.'

Harry smiled and reached for the door. Just as he was about to step out, Ginny called out, 'Wait! I haven't shown you the counter curse yet!'

'Oh, yeah,' said Harry stepping back in.

'The incantation is Abeo, and you sweep your wand the other way and add a little flick at the end,' said Ginny demonstrating the wand movement.

Harry practised a bit on a part of the slime in the office. Meeting with success, he re-applied the sludge in greater quantities. Thanking Ginny for the impromptu lesson, he left. While trashing Umbridge's office and ruining her personal effects was satisfying, he wasn't yet done. Besides, Ginny had taken some of his thunder away; he did not begrudge her wanting to join in though.

Harry slunk into The Room and practised a few spells from some of his new books. Along with the hair-loss curse and Flatulence jinx, he had practised a few fire-based spells as well. His ultimate goal was to master the Fiendfyre spell that the book had mentioned in passing. The author had advised that he start out small and then build up from there. Harry found that he could more than easily perform most of the spells. He guessed this was because Voldemort had already mastered them and this muscle memory had transferred to Harry. It was like riding a bicycle after a really long time; you don't really forget the motions, and after a little practice, you are back in form. After practising most of the curses and spells, Harry found that he could perform them just by thinking about them without needing to articulate them. He understood the tactical advantage this gave a person in a duel. One cannot block a spell when one does not know what it is.

Harry noticed that magic was coming easier to him now. Whatever Voldemort had tried to do to Harry that night had benefited him greatly; he could concentrate more, hold his spells longer and could cast new ones with an ease he hadn't had before. He also felt lighter somehow, as if a great burden he was unaware of had been lifted from his shoulders.

In addition to this, Harry had also started to organise his mind. It was subconscious at first and done in his sleep, but Harry had quickly gotten around to understanding the mechanics of the art of Occlumency when he started meditating the previous day itself when he had first started training. This had helped him in recalling most of the spells he had learnt in his fifth year more clearly. For some reason, he found himself starting to organise recall and catalogue his memories backwards. He theorised that remembering yesterday's events helped in recalling the day before and so on till (he hoped) the first few hazy memories he had as an infant. He hoped that he could recall those memories clearly; he really wanted to remember his birth father and mother after all.

So far, Harry had nearly reached the beginning of his fifth year winter term. He hoped to be done with first year by the beginning of his summer holidays, so had set aside every waking moment he wasn't doing something in mediation. He wanted to remember all his pre-Hogwarts time around the Dursleys. He would be able to vent properly then, and any guilt he felt would probably be minimised to the point of being negligible.

From reviewing the memories of that night, Harry had come to the conclusion that Sirius' death truly wasn't his fault. He had acted on the information that he had on hand at that time. Besides, if Sirius had taken Bellatrix seriously, he might still be alive. Harry knew that he had thought similarly before, but this was the first time he had truly accepted it as fact.

Harry had also come to another startling revelation that he wasn't too happy about. He realised that the bad publicity he had suffered this past year and in his fourth year had partly been his fault. Had he taken a firmer stance with Rita Skeeter from the beginning, or managed his publicity instead of running and hiding from reporters and being unwilling to speak to them, he might not have been a subject of such ridicule and slander in his fourth and fifth year. He also couldn't truly blame the public for believing the lies the prophet had printed about him (as much as it pained him to admit it), after all, what did they know about him besides what they had read in the papers about him? In fact come to think of it, not even his best friends knew about the real Harry Potter. They too were enthralled by the feats he had done. And looking back on it, they were pretty impressive. No matter how lucky he had been in those situations. The fact was that he had done things normal people would either fail in or run away from and had lived to tell the tale.

All in all, Harry had slowly started accepting his lot in life, starting with his status as a celebrity. It would be some time before he started exploiting it however. There still were some things he still wasn't comfortable with. Yet.

After breaking for lunch Harry asked The Room for a book on rituals that he lost himself in for a while. After a bit more meditating, Harry had his dinner which he had delivered to him by one of his new house-elves. He then spent the rest of the night socialising with Neville before heading to bed. He laid awake waiting for midnight.

As the clock chimed twelve times heralding the anticipated hour, Harry took a moment to listen to the snores and soft snuffling that indicated that the other occupants of the dorm were asleep. Satisfied, he got out of bed and slipped on his shoes and his invisibility cloak. As he was about to step out of the door, he noticed Seamus' hand peeking out of his curtains. Getting an idea, Harry gently stuck the sleeping boy's fingers in a goblet full of water that he had filled with the jug near the windowsill after warming it with a charm. He then cast a useful mild sleeping charm used on small animals that he had learnt in the Care of Magical Creatures class from Professor Grubbly-Plank. He poured in an extra amount of his magic to ensure that the boy did not wake up till later in the morning. Snickering, Harry slipped out of the dorms.

Activating the map and the charm on his necklace, he set off towards the hospital wing. He knew that the necklace would be redundant because of the cloak and also of not much use as at this time of the night as people would be highly suspicious about any noise and bound to notice, but he used it anyway.

Harry made it to the hospital wing in no time, keeping an eye out for Filch and his cat as well as any teachers that had decided to patrol the castle.

Once he reached there, he silently eased the doors open and slipped inside. He crept to the end of the room to where he knew Pomfrey had her quarters and office. He slipped inside thanking his good fortune that the door was open. He found the matron sleeping at her desk, a thin strand of drool connecting the bottom of her mouth to the page of the book she had been reading.

Harry nonverbally cast the sleeping charm again on the matron (he was getting rather good at nonverbal spells) before slipping back out to the infirmary.

Swiftly casting the charm on Ron and Hermione, the only other occupants, he turned his attention onto the one woman he had gone to all this trouble for. He briefly sneered at her before casting a strong stunner. As Umbridge's sleeping body slumped into the bed in unconsciousness, Harry cast a whispered disillusionment charm at her. He had specifically practiced that spell earlier for this purpose.

Quietly levitating her, Harry went out into the forest. Stopping a few yards into the forest, near a clearing with a small stagnant pond, concentrating intensely, he cancelled the disillusionment charm while keeping up the levitation charm. He was about to enervate her when another thought came to him. Smiling cruelly, he levitated her a little higher over the shallow pond before enervating the fat toady woman; as soon as he saw the spell impact her body and take effect he let the levitation charm drop.

Immediately, the fat woman's body dropped unceremoniously into the pond. The pond was deep enough to submerge her but too shallow to adequately slow Umbridge's fall causing her to painfully hit the bottom of the pond.

Harry lazily watched Umbridge flounder about wildly. Being enervated before suddenly finding themselves being plunged into a mucky pond really caused one a fair amount of disorientation, Harry noted with glee as he saw the foul woman flail about convinced she was about to drown.

Finally, the former Headmistress regained her bearings enough to stand up. She was so short or the pond was deeper than Harry estimated as the water came up to her neck. Covered head to toe in muck and slime with her already frazzled hair even more dirty, Dolores Umbridge slowly and painfully extricated herself onto solid ground.

Harry silently got behind her as she hacked, coughed and puked out the foul water she had inhaled. As soon as he thought she had regained her bearings, he whipped off the cloak, deactivated the necklace and said 'Hello there ... Headmistress,' stressing on her former title with a sneer on his face.

Suddenly, Umbridge jumped and, still choking, slowly turned around to lock eyes with Harry Potter. She barely registered his presence as she looked around her wild-eyed.

'Or is it Undersecretary? I forget,' said Harry after a pause.

'Wh-where am I?' stuttered Umbridge fearfully. The last thing she remembered was being in the hospital wing. Harry pretended to look around before saying in mock concern, 'A bit lost are we? Shame, whatever shall we do? Why it seems that we are back in the Forbidden Forest. But you should know that already, after all you are here and have been here before ...' Harry trailed off keeping his eyes on her watching as she squeaked at finding out her location.

'H-how d-di-did I get here?' said Umbridge fearfully. She finally registered who was talking to her. She shuddered as she saw the cold look on his face and glinting emerald eyes that looked very eerily like the curse he was famed for surviving.

'Ah, good question, you see, I brought you here,' said Harry conversationally. 'After all, we do not want anybody interfering our little tête-à-tête now, do we?' he added maliciously.

Umbridge blanched at his last statement, 'Wh-what d-d-do you w-wa-want from me?' she shrieked, her voice getting higher.

Harry slowly and mockingly shook his head, 'We really do need to do something about that stutter of yours, it is getting rather tiring. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, you see dear professor, I wasn't happy to know that you had survived capture at the hands of the centaurs. No, not at all! After everything you have put me through, and all the trouble me and my friend had gone through to lead you to them, you just did not have the decency to just die did you?' Harry's tone had morphed from mocking to angry by the end of his diatribe. 'So it looks like I need to, handle this myself. After all, as they say, "if you want something done right, do it yourself."' He cocked his head to one side twirling his wand between his fingers.

Umbridge gulped, nervously eyeing Harry's wand before saying in a falsely confident voice, 'You wouldn't dare Potter; I'm the Undersecretary to the Minister! The minute Cornelius hears about this he will have you expelled and thrown into Azkaban for attacking a Ministry employee!'

Harry threw his head back and laughed, 'Fudge?' he said between bouts of laughter, 'Ooooh I'm so scared!' he mocked, 'Fudge is too busy covering his stupid pinstriped sweaty arse to bother with you right now! Now that he has seen Voldemort with his own eyes,' he snarled.

Umbridge flinched at Voldemort's name before recovering, 'that again? The Dark Lord is dead and gone, you nasty little liar!' she raged, 'It looks like we will have to take more serious measures with you Mr. Potter. Now get me back to the castle before things become even more dire for you.'

'Shut up you stupid bitch!' snarled Harry, 'Voldemort has come back, in fact, he was there right in your precious Ministry and your dear Minister was there to see him personally! It's there in the fucking paper too you silly cow! That twat Fudge is scrambling to cover his arse now that the truth has finally come out. He will be lucky to last the month before being chucked out into the street.'

Umbridge got paler and paler at this revelation, 'No, this cannot be! Lucius personally reassured us that-'

'Oh yes Lucius Malfoy, funny story; he was also there cavorting in full Death Eater Regalia along with his other Death Eater friends. In fact, joining them were those who had recently escaped Azkaban,' Harry drawled, watching with relish as Umbridge's toady face went even paler with that revelation. 'In fact he and eleven others have been caught inside the Department of Mysteries, which they had broken into really easily by the way-you should really look to increasing your security, because it is just atrocious. Anyway, they should be halfway to Chateau Azkaban for a lovely summer holiday right now!' he added clapping his hands together in mock glee.

'But enough chitchat now, the hour is getting late, and I need my beauty sleep,' Harry rubbed his hands together.

'We can do this the easy way or the hard way,' he continued, 'personally I hope you choose the former for your sake but I am not adverse to the second choice. Where is my broom?'

Umbridge remained stubbornly silent. 'Ah the hard way then, very well,' saying this, Harry pointed his wand at her and concentrating, flicked his wand lifting Umbridge into the air before slamming her into the nearest tree. Umbridge landed there with a pained squeal. Harry nodded satisfactorily, he did not know if that would work but remembering what Voldemort had done to Pettigrew, worked on a hunch that there was no incantation needed for that. Obviously it was what Voldemort had done as well.

'Still not talking? Very well,' with that, he flicked his wand and sent her flying back into the pond. As soon as she hit the water, Harry lifted her up again before plunging her back in. He did this a few times not giving the former headmistress time to breathe before throwing her back into the same tree she had impacted a few minutes back.

Harry watched her hack and cough dispassionately, 'Are we ready to talk?' he said.

'Go to hell you stupid little brat!' spat Umbridge vindictively, 'I will never tell you where your precious broom is! I hope that the trolls break it. You will have to pull it from my mind, and I doubt you can do that you pathetic little worm!'

'That can be arranged,' said Harry with a glint in his eye. With that, he cast a full body bind on her to her shock before levitating her till she was at eye level with him.

Looking into her eyes and smirking at the fear he saw in them he pointed his wand and said, 'Legilimens!'

Immediately, he violently dove into the fat woman's mind. He brutally perused all her memories not caring if he caused her any pain or if he was ripping her sanity apart. He not only extracted the location of his broom, but also found out a lot of her dirty little secrets. A useful piece of information he had found was the utility of the Blood Quill that she had used to torture the students with. It seemed that it was a family heirloom and had more uses than just torturing people with.

Satisfied, he pulled out just as violently from her mind shredding the last vestiges of her sanity. He watched the gibbering broken woman in front of him in contempt before turning around and heading towards the castle. He did not feel any remorse for his actions. She deserved everything she had coming to her.

The last few days of term flew by, and before Harry knew it he was packing his trunk. He had spent the days discreetly going into the Room of Requirement and practising spells. He was especially happy with that book he had bought with Dudley in mind as it was more than worth his money. Harry chuckled to himself; the author was as vindictive as his name (that is, if it was his real name). He had tried it out on dummies so far, but hadn't had the pleasure of seeing their effects on humans. He did not want to risk it right now even though he was tempted.

He would have ample opportunity to test them out this summer. Dudley wouldn't know what hit him! Harry cackled evilly, rubbing his hands. He really should have bought that book ages ago despite Hagrid not letting him in the summer before first year. It was true that he had picked up most of the spells, but there were some real gems in there that weren't known to the average Hogwarts student.

Harry had also read up on some other rituals as well. The adoption ritual had certainly piqued his interest. Though, he had only managed to try out a strengthening ritual which would increase his overall body strength by a small amount. It wouldn't make him super strong (and Harry was disappointed at first that he wouldn't be lifting cars with a hand) but it would probably win him a few arm wrestling and weight lifting competitions for his size and weight. He also would be able to throw quite a mean punch! There was a darker version with more impressive results, but Harry didn't fancy the side effect of becoming huge and bulky. He liked his current looks and body too much for that.

Harry was lucky that Ron and Hermione were in the hospital wing all this time, otherwise he was certain that slipping off would have been problematic. He did visit them when he could, but found the exercise a challenge on his patience; Hermione kept trying to bring Sirius up, and she always had that look of smug superiority on her face and just buried in her surface thoughts that Harry found to be really annoying. He was lucky that Ron at least in a rare display of good sense had the decency to shut her mouth up. Then again, judging by the method he used to distract her, and knowing him for nearly half a decade, Harry was pretty sure that it was more a case of Ron putting his foot in his mouth rather than any cleverness on his part. He would always make some inane comment or another that would really get the bushy haired witch riled up, causing her to rant and rave with the ginger.

And Ron in typical ginger fashion would reply back heatedly. This would then lead to them arguing nonstop for hours on end with Hermione getting shriller and shriller and Ron getting redder and redder till he was, in Harry's humble opinion, almost Vernon Dursley purple.

Harry supposed that it was a blessing that they were under the auspices of Madame Pomfrey who (after repeated attempts at calming potions and cheering charms) had resorted to just silencing them to spare her other precious patients, for he was sure that the two of them would have driven him barmy. He did enjoy the show though; after silencing the two, Pomfrey would then retreat back into her office muttering suspiciously to herself about love potions, locked cupboards and hormonal teenagers. He was even gladder when a harried and thoroughly fed up Madame Pomfrey had finally decided to ban any and all visitors from visiting them and had placed the two of them in separate areas of the room like naughty children and had forbidden them to talk to anybody.

All in all, it was a rather relieved looking Madame Pomfrey who had seen them off the hospital wing just two days left till the Leaving Feast.

Not being able to talk to anybody for four days straight had given both of them ample opportunity to start arguing with each other as to whose fault it was. This had the added bonus of allowing Harry to slink off while they were in the throes of their latest passionate argument.

So it was a rather reluctant Harry who was packing his trunk just before the Leaving Feast. He did not look forward to going back to the Dursleys for the summer despite the new freedoms that he had gained. And he was looking forward to the train ride even less. There was only so long those two could argue before Hermione decided to get on his case about his feelings and Sirius. Harry finally slammed the lid of his trunk with a scowl on his face placing the communication mirror he had just found given to him by Sirius just after the Christmas holidays. Its discovery had not helped his current bad mood. Harry was careful not to shatter the mirror. It was after all the last link he had of his new father besides the Firebolt.

Thinking of the Firebolt had brought a smile back to Harry's face. This then turned into a vindictive grin as it reminded him of Umbridge. She was found the following evening after he was done with her. Dumbledore had organised a large search party with the ministry which had some really reluctant participants. The only person enthusiastic in the quest to find her was Filch. Though, if the rumours were true, Percy had petitioned to join in but was forced to back out as he was under a lot of stress due to the investigation headed by Amelia Bones into Fudge's activities as Minister.

It turned out that Arthur Weasley was right about one thing; Percy's promotion definitely was suspicious. It was too bad that Amelia did not know why Fudge had promoted him suddenly, and Arthur couldn't say much; Dumbledore had learnt his lesson after Pettigrew and had taken the necessary steps. Though Harry was certain that Dumbledore would find a way to save Percy; he valued the Weasleys too much to not do that. It looked like everybody and their kneazle got a second chance from Dumbledore. No matter what they had done in the past.

At any rate, they had eventually found the woman nearly comatose. More specifically Hagrid had found her and carried her out. The theory was that the trauma of being a "guest" of a herd of pissed off centaurs was so severe that she had a delayed reaction and had wandered out. Some suspected foul play after her office and quarters were found all but destroyed. But nobody could say for certain.

Harry's mood had steadily worsened as the end of term came. He did not want to go back to those sorry excuses of human beings that he was related to. No matter what reasons Dumbledore cited. His resentment and anger towards the old man was only increased as he thought of the prophecy that was hidden from him and the death it had caused because of it. He could not cope fully with the grief and so his body strived to turn it into the one emotion he did understand that was close to what he was feeling; anger.

He avoided attending the end-of-term feast as he did not want to hear whatever waffle Dumbledore planned on spewing out then.

Aside from that one hiccup of being accosted by Malfoy and his two moronic goons who seemed to think that Harry was responsible for Lucius Malfoy's incarceration, (they were taken care of by DA members who happened to be around when the Slytherins had tried to ambush Harry) the train ride towards Kings Cross was spent peacefully with his friends.

After contemplating just sitting till the train emptied fully, Harry reluctantly got up from his seat in the compartment and hefting his trunk, entered the Muggle world.

A thank you to all those who have reviewed. I'm glad that you liked the story!

Read and review please.

And as usual, another thank you to Firephoenix86!

6. Beginning of Summer

The first thing Harry noticed when he emerged out of the barrier separating Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters was his uncle who always seemed to fill any space he occupied, in the literal sense of the word. The next thing he noticed was the small group he and his wife were looking at suspiciously.

Harry followed Vernon's gaze and saw Remus, Tonks, Moody and Mr., and Mrs. Weasley along with Fred and George standing there. In an effort to delay the event of talking to the unpleasant Muggles that were his relatives, he immediately made a beeline towards the motley group. As soon as he came within range, Mrs. Weasley immediately descended upon him and pulled him into one of her crushing near stifling hugs.

Harry absently noticed that not only was her head near his chest, but he no longer felt as crushed as he used to when being hugged by her. Breaking away, Harry shook hands with Remus and greeted the twins as well as the others.

'Wotcher Harry,' said Tonks.

'Hey, what are you guys doing here?' asked Harry.

'Well, Harry we have come to see you off,' said Remus

'Also, we have come to talk to those relatives of yours about a few things for the summer,' Said Arthur Weasley.

'Indeed,' said Moody looking rather sinister with a bowler hat pulled over his magical eye. 'Especially over how they have been treating you'

'I dunno if that's a good idea,' said Harry quickly.

'Oh I think that it's a really good idea,' said Moody, 'That'll be them, then?' He jerked his thumb behind him towards the Dursleys. Harry knew that he had his magical eye on them as he had said that.

As soon as Harry nodded, the group moved as one towards the Dursleys who seemed rooted on the spot. Harry finally noticed his large cousin Dudley trying to look as small as possible, and failing rather spectacularly.

Harry looked on as The Order uttered various threats to the Dursleys should they ever fail to treat Harry right. He was pretty amused at the Dursleys' reaction to Moody's eye when he revealed it.

He also was irritated at the Order's antics. Here they were threatening those fat Muggles on his behalf and yet they decide to do it now, when Harry had the means to defend himself. Where were they last year? Or the year before that? Hell, where were they before he even knew about Hogwarts and the magical world? When he was a small helpless child stuffed in a cupboard with spiders for company and forced to slog every day to "earn his keep".

Harry kept his face impassive as these thoughts ran through his head, he knew that the Order had been tailing him ever since, and yet they had not done anything to help him then. His anger at Dumbledore grew even more as he guessed that they probably had been forbidden from interfering on that old man's instructions.

He waved them goodbye careful to keep his expression neutral. The only good thing he could find about this whole situation was that it looked like they won't be posting guards around Privet Drive to keep an eye on him if what they unknowingly implied when threatening the Dursleys was true. This gave him ample enough opportunity to learn and practice new spells.

Harry loaded the boot of Vernon's company car with his trunk which was no longer heavy for him anymore due to his improved physique and the Featherlight charm he had placed on it and the empty owl cage (Hedwig would be flying directly to the house), and got into the car. Vernon who had been waiting impatiently for him to get in, pulled out into the street without even waiting for Harry to put his seatbelt on.

Harry absently looked out of the window at the cars flashing by. The Dursleys had been quiet so far but Harry knew that it would only be a matter of time that Vernon finally regained his bluster. And he was not disappointed. By the time the car had reached the M25 and was speeding along towards Surrey; Harry could hear the man muttering under his breath and sending scathing looks at Harry through his rear-view mirror getting redder and redder.

Harry pretended not to notice but as the car pulled into little Whinging and stopped at the driveway of Number Four, he tensed up gripping his wand which he had kept under the sleeve of his jumper; ready for a fight.

As soon as the car stopped, Vernon popped the boot open while Dudley and Petunia got out of the car and into the house as fast as they could manage without running.

Harry got his trunk out without much difficulty and followed his uncle who had been watching him with beady eyes into the house. As soon as he got in, his uncle turned around to face him.

'Close the door, boy!'

Harry set his trunk and owl cage down on the side and turned around to close the door.

The sound of the lock hitting home had yet to die out when Harry, suddenly sensing danger, dropped down on one knee and ducked. This was just in time as the huge meaty fist that was aimed at his head missed; causing the obese Muggle behind the punch that was Vernon Dursley to overbalance with his arm extended out in the air in front of him that, till a second ago, was occupied by his nephew's head; a few inches away from the thick window pane in the front door that would have probably sprained his wrist had his fist made contact with it judging by the velocity it was travelling in.

Harry did not waste any time, as soon as he had hit the floor, he immediately spun around till he was facing his fat uncle. He unleashed his fist right between Vernon's legs at that moment, putting all of his ritual enhanced strength into the punch, adding to the momentum gained from the spin. Still acting on instinct and not sparing any time, Harry then got behind Vernon, where he unleashed a wandless Banisher point blank at the man's back.

Vernon was still processing the pain radiating from his groin and had just bent down on reflex and agony when the magic unleashed from his nephew rammed into him. This threw him headfirst right into the door which shook from the impact but held firm.

Dazed, Vernon sank to the floor while Harry quickly got to his feet and immediately stood to the side till he was facing both Vernon and the remaining two Dursleys who had yet to react to the events unfolding in front of them.

His aunt and cousin watched with shock as Harry had disabled and incapacitated Vernon all in the space of a few seconds. They were not used to having their relative who used to be so weak and easy to push around, fight back and were thus unprepared. Dudley was the first to shake out of his stupor. He was not of intelligent mind, and did the only thing he knew to do in a situation involving Harry, beat him up.

So with that thought, he raised his fist and lumbered towards Harry. Only to be brought up short by the business end of Harry's wand pointed right between his eyes and glowing an ominous emerald green.

Dudley's eyes crossed at the object pointed right at him before looking beyond and up the arm into his cousin's face. He realised with a start that the small titchy kid that used to be his cousin was now towering over him. His face was an emotionless mask with a cold green fire in his eyes that were actually glowing in the low light of the dying sun with almost the same intensity as the tip of his wand. 'Back. Off.' Harry growled in a dangerous voice.

For the first time in his life, Dudley Dursley felt afraid. What was even more galling was the fact that the person who he was currently afraid of was the person whom he was used to tormenting and bullying for all these years. Fear welled up in his belly and sweat ran down his spine as he backed away.

'Right, to the living room, we are going to have a family meeting,' said Harry tersely. Seeing Petunia about to open her mouth, he cut her off and said, 'Either you get there on your own, or I get you there. I promise you that you will not like option two.' At this Petunia shut her mouth and with a look of disdain on her horsy face moved into the living room followed closely by Dudley.

Harry began to follow them, but as he was about to set foot into the living room, Vernon groaned. Noticing him, Harry sneered and stepping into the room, flicked his wand at the obese man, jerking the fat man towards the living room violently where he collided with the wall just next to the doorway before being dragged into the room where he then flew past Harry and impacted with his son and wife sending all three of them painfully into the sofa which groaned in impotent protest with the sudden weight placed on it.

Harry regally sat down on the armchair that was usually used to hold Vernon's obese frame treating it as if it were his throne placing his elbows on each of the armrests and clasping his hands in front of his face underneath his chin. He watched with a cold gleam as the three Dursleys tried to untangle themselves from each other. Petunia was trying unsuccessfully to get her large husband off herself gently. Finally with a mighty heave from both mother and son, Vernon was unceremoniously rolled off the sofa and onto the floor where he groaned but did not move.

'Right,' said Harry when he had the undivided attention of his cousin and aunt, 'For fourteen years now, I have had to endure you and your belittling, abuse, neglect and bullying. You have enjoyed lording it over me using the fact that I was smaller and not able to defend myself. Now I've had enough, from now on Dudley will do any and all chores you have in mind for me-'

'Oh no you don't freak! You will do all the chores that we have allotted for you or else you will not get any meals. If you think that you can get away with lazing around you have another thing coming!' roared Vernon, interrupting Harry mid speech, he had finally managed to regain his wind and awareness enough to give his nephew the most intimidating glare he could muster as he got up and hefted himself onto the sofa.

However, to his shock Harry did not even flinch at his tone. Harry drew his wand back out and pointed to Dudley.

'Don't think you can threaten us with that boy! I know you cannot do magic outside that freak school of yours or you will be expelled!' shouted Vernon triumphantly,

'Is that right?' Harry smiled coldly. Pointing his wand at Dudley, he said loudly for dramatic effect, 'Abscido'

Immediately Dudley started to claw at his throat as his air supply was cut off. He collapsed on the floor in front of his horrified parents turning slightly blue and beginning to convulse from the lack of air.

Just as it looked like Dudley would pass out from the lack of air, Harry cancelled the spell giving Dudley some much needed air. The rotund boy started coughing, inhaling deeply and frantically supplying his body with sweet oxygen.

'Will you look at that, I have used magic!' said Harry. He looked mockingly around the house before turning his attention back to a grey Vernon and a frantic Petunia who was crouched next to Dudley, 'And no owls telling me that I have been expelled either! It looks like the Ministry either does not care, or cannot tell that I have cast magic!' He gave a wide fake smile looking at his relatives as their thick heads and limited intelligence processed the ramifications of his words and actions.

'I hope you loved that charm, it cuts off the air supply encasing the target in a vacuum, we learnt it in our first year. It's pretty handy when you want to snuff out a candle. It's not much use when you want to kill a person though, it is ridiculously easy to counter ...' Harry trailed off, 'But you are Muggles!' he exclaimed in mock surprise, 'you couldn't even counter a tickling hex even if you tried! Shame really, that means you wouldn't be a match for an eleven year old wizard!' he tisked

Smiling maliciously he continued, 'Well it seems that I have the power now, and so now I am stronger and bigger than you. You three are now nothing but pathetic, helpless Muggles.' he spat gesturing at them with his left hand while his right was twirling his wand between his fingers.

'So we are going to be playing by my rules now. So from now on, Dudley will be doing all the chores in the house. The days of you lazing around on your fat arses while I do all the work has passed. You want work done in the house, you do it! It might even help with your weight problem.' He said disdainfully looking at his cousin. It seemed that last year's diet had completely failed for Dudley had reverted to being just as large as ever.

'And if you do not comply, well,' he brandished his wand causing his relatives to cower back in fear. 'I can more than take care of you.' satisfied that the message had sunk in, he put his wand away leant back and looking at his aunt said in a cheerful voice, 'Now what's for dinner? I'm famished! I hope you have cooked something good for me Auntie.' Seeing her nod jerkily, he beamed, 'Excellent! I'll just put my trunk up in my room, shall I?' with that he got up and strode into the hallway where he floated his belongings up with a flourish of his wand. Putting them in his room, he thundered back down the stairs causing as much noise as he could manage knowing that it would irritate the hell out of his aunt and uncle.

He plopped down at the table, shortly followed by his uncle and cousin.

Petunia had already served the occupants with their usual portions of food before Harry had come in. Harry took one look at his chipped and worn plate on which was a small, measly, burnt piece of her roast (which she had cooked to welcome her precious Dudders home from school), glanced at Dudley's generous helping and said, 'Now that won't do,' with that, he floated Dudley's plate away from his cousin just as he was about to dig in; exchanging it for the meagre rations.

'You'll never lose weight if you keep up with this atrocious diet,' he admonished Dudley, 'Since your previous diet obviously did not work, we'll try out a new one where you eat my share and I eat yours. I hope there is no problem with that?' he directed his question to his aunt and uncle glaring at them challengingly.

Cowed, Vernon muttered 'No, not at all,' eyeing Harry's wand warily while Petunia just nodded wordlessly, looking as if every motion was causing her acute physical pain too afraid to fill Dudley's plate back up.

The following meal was the best one of Harry's life at Privet Drive. He enjoyed every single nervous glance sent his way and relished every jump they made at any small noise coming out from him as he purposefully clacked his teeth against the fork at every bite.

Harry closely watched Dudley as he wolfed down the portion originally meant for his formerly scrawny cousin. Just as Dudley was about to reach for seconds, Harry pounced. 'Ah-ah-ah! I think you've had more than enough for tonight,' he said sending a stinging hex at Dudley's meaty paw. Dudley immediately retracted his hand and squealed in pain, fixing his watery blue eyes at Harry.

'You can have some of the vegetables however,' said Harry ignoring the murderous stare sent his way by Dudley and gesturing at the boiled carrots and beans that Petunia had cooked for herself, 'I'm sure that your mum won't mind terribly.'

Dudley only scowled in response. Harry cleared his throat and waved his wand, effectively quelling any response his relatives were about to make.

The rest of the meal continued in silence. After the roast, Petunia stiffly got up and collected the plates and got the chocolate pudding out which she had also spent hours on making to welcome her son back from school (even though the fat lump of lard had arrived two days ago). She placed the largest of the three glasses in front of Dudley while taking the two remaining smaller ones for herself and Vernon. Harry eagerly waited for Dudley to pick his spoon up, and just as Dudley was about to scoop out a helping, he quickly Summoned the glass away and set it down in front of himself grinning maliciously as he saw his cousin's eager face literally sag in disbelief. 'Now, now I am afraid you cannot have dessert, after all, you didn't have any of your vegetables!' said Harry mockingly, waving his wand at Dudley's face.

Dudley's and Vernon's face turned an identical shade of puce as they furiously began to open their mouths to give Harry a piece of their minuscule minds. Harry immediately silenced both of them and with a sticking charm ensured that they could not get off their seats. He then Vanished the contents of Vernon's glass while saying 'You have to watch your cholesterol Uncle dear, wouldn't want you keeling over with a heart attack now would we? Since you lot obviously have no manners and cannot behave, I'm afraid that you will have to sit there while I finish my dessert.' Saying this, Harry gleefully Vanished Petunia's dessert as well, and after silencing her and sticking her to her chair, worked his way through the chocolate pudding taking care to slowly eat and relish every scoop taken by the spoon he had specifically shrunk for the purpose all the while smiling sadistically at the hungry look in Dudley's eyes.

Finally finishing his dessert, Harry got up, burping elegantly and patting his stomach. 'Dinner was lovely Petunia, and the dessert was exquisite.' He then cleaned the remains of his dessert to Dudley's silent dismay and left for the door. Before leaving, he stopped and said, 'Oh and before I forget, we cannot have Dinky Diddidums sneaking snacks in the middle of the night now, can we?' He took his wand out and silently locked the refrigerator and pantry up. He then left the kitchen and cancelling the sticking and silencing charms, headed up towards his room. He chuckled as he heard Dudley's roar of rage and frustration as he discovered what Harry had done.

Harry stopped outside his room noticing the locks in front of the door in distaste. He quickly vanished all of them silently and got inside, closing and locking the door behind him with a quick Colloportus. He eyed the pathetic furniture and the small room he currently occupied. He had no idea what spells he could use to expand the room and if he couldn't expand it, he couldn't change any of the furniture. Suddenly getting an idea, he called for Dobby (he really did not think that he could possibly survive reciting the names of his other elves with his ribs intact).

Immediately the elf in question appeared in front of him. 'What is Master wanting of Dobby?'

Gesturing around the small room, Harry said, 'Can you do something to this room and the furniture? It is a bit small.' Harry trailed off looking at Dobby hopefully. He did not bother correcting Dobby on his form of address; he had given up doing that a long time ago.

Dobby took one look around the room and said in a scandalised voice, 'Master is not living in such a small room! It is no bigger than Dobby's old quarters with old master's house!'

'Do you need any help with the remodelling? Perhaps I can call another elf to help out? I think Wink-'

'No sir! Dobby is not needing assistance! Dobby can do it himself!' said the elf hastily. With that, he quickly waved his hands and set about expanding the room to twice its size. He then started to change the tiny rickety bed to a large king sized bed and the desk into a larger and more elegant version of itself. The wardrobe was expanded to twice its capacity and the windows made larger and more elegant.

Harry watched all this with an amused smile on his face. He knew that even a small mention of that former alcoholic elf that used to belong to the Crouches in the presence of Dobby would be more than enough to shut the guy up and get him to do his work with minimal fuss. It would also cut through the babbling which at times, like a few minutes before could get vexing (who liked their room being compared to a house-elf's quarters anyway?)

'This won't be noticed from the outside by anybody right?' Said Harry, he was concerned about the Ministry and Dumbledore finding out about his newly expanded bedroom that for all intents and purposes was as big as an entire flat.

'Dobby is expanding the room from the inside sir. He is also masking his magic so that the Ministry does not notice.'

'Thank you Dobby. I guess I will be seeing you tomorrow with breakfast then? Or is it going to be Twinky?'

'No sir, it is Willy who is going to be serving you tomorrow,' said Dobby sounding slightly downcast at the prospect of not being able to serve the Great Harry Potter.

'Oh yeah, tomorrow's Thursday!' said Harry. He had yet to find more work for his elves. So far, he was managing with having one of the elves cook all three of his meals for a day in the week. With seven elves, that meant he had a personal elf for every day of the week. Being forced to cook for the Dursleys for all his life had put Harry off the prospect of ever partaking in that activity even if it was for his own benefit. Especially now that he had an option to skip that chore what with having seven different highly capable chefs who could do the work and actually loved every single second of it!

Harry may be able to make an extremely sinful French toast or cheese omelette (cooking for the Dursleys does give one extensive knowledge in making some of the most tasty foods even if they aren't good for you), and the food that he cooked may come out better than his horsy aunt could ever hope to manage, but that did not mean that Harry would ever voluntarily make food for himself.

Dobby unpacked Harry's trunk, placing his things in the necessary areas and with great relish, disposed of Dudley's hand-me-downs that Harry had taken to wear in the last few days at Hogwarts (his friends could be a bit too nosy and observant at times) before disappearing.

Harry then stripped down to his pants, discarding the last remaining set of castoffs and his glasses, throwing them into the corner. He sank down on his new and improved bed looking at his slightly shaking hands. He could not believe that Uncle Vernon had tried to hit him; sure he had been overly cruel and spiteful, but he had never tried to beat Harry up. That was more Dudley's forte.

Harry was even more surprised at his reaction. The way he had immediately sensed the threat and incapacitated Vernon was not something he knew to do normally. Figuring that it had been gifted to him by Voldemort, he snorted, looks like Tommy knows how to fight!

He finally relaxed and lay down closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

Harry was about to open the front door and step out into the sunshine when the doorbell rang. Opening the door he saw the last person he expected to see, yet was hoping to see ever since the incident at the Department of Mysteries. Standing in front of him was none other than Sirius Black.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. Mouth hanging open, he tried to formulate a response, 'I ... how ... Sirius?'

'Hello Harry,' said the person who looked a lot like Sirius in a voice that sounded exactly like Harry's recently deceased godfather.

Harry regained his senses; quickly pointing his wand at the figure in front of him, he said in a cold voice, 'How do I know that this isn't some sort of trick?'

The person in front of him (Harry refused to think that it was Sirius) let out a bark-like laugh that Harry was very familiar with and said, 'It really is me Harry! Look I can prove it to you,' with that, he changed into his Animagus form and back again, 'See?'

Harry stood there dumbly looking at his godfather for a few seconds. Finally convinced that it was him, he tackled Sirius hugging him for all he was worth. After a few moments they separated, surreptitiously wiping their eyes.

'Getting old there Sirius?' said Harry finally noticing the grey hair on his godfather's temples, 'You have no idea,' said Sirius. 'It's got to do with what happened to me in the Death Room and the veil. It's also the reason I came to you first without telling anybody else that I am alive.'

'What do you mean?' asked Harry with trepidation. 'What happened to you anyway? Remus told me that you had died ...'

'Well, that is what I had thought too at first, but then I realised that the veil hadn't killed me. It just sent me back in time,' said Sirius.

'Oh,' said Harry processing this new piece of information, 'how far back?'

'Around forty years back, I would've come visit you earlier, but at that time, there were two of me running around and I didn't want to cause any scenes by being spotted or recognised when I was supposed to be in Azkaban or on the run.'

'That makes sense,' said Harry understandingly. Perking up he said, 'Does that mean I can now come and live with you now that your name has been cleared and everything? There won't be any issue with you taking custody since you've already adopted me.'

'Wait, you've already done the ritual?' said Sirius with a look of surprise on his face, Harry only nodded wordlessly, hoping that Sirius hadn't changed his mind.

'Damn,' said Sirius, 'I was hoping that you hadn't already done it! I actually was hoping to stop you from doing it-,' he stopped abruptly on seeing Harry's stricken face.

Realising what he had said and how it had sounded coming out, Sirius quickly explained, 'It's not that I didn't want you Harry! Nothing makes me happier knowing that you are mine, I will always want you, never doubt that.'

'Then why?' asked Harry. He was slightly appeased but still wary.

'Well, that is what I wanted to explain. You see there is a slight complication that has arisen because of me being catapulted into the past.'

'"Complication"?' said Harry nonplussed.

'You see, when I had been thrown back that far, I saw this as a chance to start a new life for myself as a Muggle. The thing is, one night I had met this beautiful Muggle ...' he trailed off uncertainly

'Go on,'

'I won't bore you with the details, Harry, but one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I found myself sleeping in her bedroom.' Sirius broke off here, looking nervously at Harry.

'So?' said Harry beginning to relax. While he was slightly uneasy listening about his godfather's sex life, he didn't see how this was pertinent to the conversation. 'It looks like you found yourself somebody to spend your life with. I'm not a little kid Sirius! I can handle that fact. Did you marry her?' he inquired.

'I wish,' said Sirius miserably. Clearing his throat he continued, 'You see, Harry, uh, I had only met her for that one night. What we had done would be called-'

'A one night stand, yes Sirius I know, I'm not as innocent as you think I am,' cut in Harry bemusedly.

'Oi! I wasn't finished yet,' Said Sirius giving Harry an annoyed look,

'Sorry,' said Harry not sounding sorry at all.

'Now where was I? Oh yes, well the next morning I found out to my shock that not only was she married but also had a kid! I got out of there as soon as possible.'

Harry winced in sympathy at Sirius' words. 'While I can only imagine your pain, what is that got to do with this?' He said gesturing between the both of them.

'It's not that I slept with her, but who she was,' Here Sirius' face turned mournful.

'What, was it the Queen or something?' said Harry snickering, imagining the monarch going out into a random pub anonymously for a drink.

'Oh, ha, ha,' said Sirius giving Harry a dirty look, 'No it wasn't the Queen, but somebody much worse. Judging from the picture of her four year old daughter that I had seen and what she had named her, I gathered that it was your Maternal Grandmother!'

'You slept with my Grandmum?' Harry half said-half yelled incredulously.

'Yeah, and not only that, I found out later that our night together had resulted in her becoming pregnant! Thankfully her husband never found out ... eventually the guilt was too much for her that I decided to obliviate the night from her memory'

'Then ... that-that means ... that you are Lily's real father?' stuttered Harry in dawning comprehension and horror,

'Um, you could say that, yeah,' said Sirius running his hand through his hair nervously. Now the disparity between the two sisters in looks really hit Harry. As did the fact that Lily was the magical one. He had always thought that his aunt or mother was adopted or something ... but this?

'So,' said Harry slowly having another epiphany, 'That means that you are my real Grandfather?'

'Uh huh,' said Sirius, 'But now since you have done the ritual, I'm also your father. That makes you your mother's half brother as well! I think you know why I didn't want you to do it.'

Harry couldn't take the shock of the situation anymore, faintly he heard somebody scream out 'Noooooo' sounding suspiciously like him as he felt himself falling.

Harry woke up with a start, a scream dying on his lips. Breathing heavily, he wildly looked around the room, sweat dripping down his bare chest and his body wrapped in the blankets.

He realised that he was in his bedroom in Number Four. The sun had just risen with the first rays of dawn hitting him in the face. Frantically he shouted, 'Dobby!'

Immediately the little elf appeared in front of the wizard, 'You is calling Dobby master?'

'Yeah, can you tell me what day and time it is, please?'

'It is being six in the morning the day after sir arrived at his Muggles' house sir!' said Dobby. If he was confused, he hid it rather well.

'Oh thank Merlin,' said a relieved Harry. He sagged back into the bed, 'It was only a dream!' laughing slightly hysterically, he turned his attention back to Dobby, 'Can you tell Willy to have breakfast ready by nine? Thanks.'

As the elf disappeared, Harry got up and exited the room for the bathroom down the hall. Finishing his morning ritual, he got into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Putting on his trainers and tucking his wand into his waistband, he cautiously opened the front door.

Finding the stoop empty of any dead godfathers claiming to be his grandfather, he finally relaxed. Shaking his head at the weird dream and exhaling loudly, Harry immediately started off at a brisk pace. He figured that duelling would require a lot of physical stamina and it would be a good idea to increase it. While he found that he not only had the experience of magical duelling but Muggle fighting as well from Tom, and knew how to move his body, he still had to get his body used to the punishment that it would endure from a long bout.

Harry still marvelled at the fact that Voldemort of all people knew how to fight without magic. He theorised that before he became the big bad Dark Lord, Tom had to rely on both magical and non magical techniques to win fights in his bid to make a name for himself.

Harry found himself winded by the time he had reached Magnolia Crescent. Slowing down to a brisk walk and breathing deeply, he made his way to the play park. Vaulting over the low gate, he made his way to the back of the park.

He knew from his various explorations around Little Whinging that the park opened out into a small patch of woods. The fence separating the park and the woods was high but covered by the bushes was a small gap which one had to strain to see.

It was the perfect escape route for Harry when he was younger and running to avoid his overweight cousin. The opening was small enough that somebody of Dudley's girth couldn't squeeze through. Not that they ever found the place. They weren't too bright anyway!

Rooting around the bushes, Harry finally found the opening. He noticed that it was much smaller than the last time he had been here. Then again, that was when he was ten, small, and scrawny.

Pulling his wand out again, Harry cut through some of the links in the chain in the fence, making the opening large enough for him to duck through.

Once through the opposite side, he cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on the entrance before proceeding forward. He quickly reached the clearing he used to frequent many times as a child to get away from Dudley. Pacing around the clearing, he nodded to himself, satisfied; this would be big enough for him to practise his spells. He knew that the trees went on for a while before coming out onto a busy motorway, so he did not run the risk of being noticed, as long as he was careful.

Returning back to the play park, Harry made his way back to Wisteria walk and Privet Drive picking up the pace till he was matching the speed with which he had started out at.

Sweating and breathing heavily, he got behind some bushes in his aunt's backyard before silently Apparating back to his room. Gathering his bath things, he made his way back to the bathroom for a quick bath to wash the sweat off with a smile on his face and a spring on his step.

Summer at the Dursleys was beginning to turn out rather well. For the first time in his short life, Harry didn't mind living with the Dursleys. It really is good to be King!

7. Dealing With the Dursleys

Dudley Dursley rolled out of bed one day at the crack of noon. Still sleepy from staying up late with his mates, he blearily got out of his room thinking about the promise this night had to offer. Malcolm's parents would be gone out for the evening meaning that they would all be able to get together for a "sleepover". Piers had managed to nick a case of Guinness and Gordon had managed to nick his brother's stash of adult videos while he and Dennis had managed to procure a few cartons of cigarettes. Oh yes, Dudley was looking forward to tonight!

Suddenly, something caught him around the ankles, and for the first time in his life Dudley felt the sensation of weightlessness before he was rudely brought down to earth ... and down the stairs he was about to descend.

Dazed, Dudley lay at the bottom of the staircase looking up at the ceiling and wondering where his mother was. Surely all that racket would have garnered her attention, and she would come to help him.

The ensuing silence that came immediately after his fall was finally shattered by a low mocking chuckle. Dudley painfully rolled around to see Harry leisurely descending the stairs twirling that damnable wand of his.

It had been more than a week after his cousin had arrived and the only interaction Dudley had with him so far was when his cousin had somehow managed to drive him, Piers and Gordon off Mark Evans two days back. So he was surprised to note that not only did Harry look healthy, but was dressed in expensive looking clothes that Dudley coveted but couldn't buy, mainly due to his size.

'Trip Jinx, cousin,' Harry said, 'as the name says, it causes a person to trip ... like it?' he smiled.

'You could have killed me, you pillock! What if I had twisted my neck falling down?' yelled Dudley, finally gathering his wits.

At this Harry crouched down in front of Dudley, his smile slipping from his face and his eyes cold. 'I could have said the same thing seven years ago Dudders! Remember? When you pushed me down the stairs ... turnabout is fair play after all ... count your lucky stars that I didn't immediately shove you in a tiny cupboard like your dear deadbeat daddy did to me for "carrying on" as he put it,' Harry growled in suppressed rage, roughly putting air quotes when imitating his uncle.

Dudley gulped at the suppressed anger coming out of his cousin's voice. He remembered that day also. Looking back on it, it could have ended badly for his cousin. The same cousin who had saved him from those monsters in hooded cloaks (not that Dudley would ever admit to seeing them) who had apparently tried to suck his soul last summer. 'I was seven then Potter! How was I supposed to know then that it could have been fatal? I thought it was good fun at that time.' He tried to justify himself. Apparently that was the wrong choice of words, as Harry's face darkened as his eyes now no longer hindered by his bulky glasses seemed to glow an eerie green that was seen even through it was the middle of the afternoon.

'Yeah? Well, guess what Dursley, I was seven then too! In case that escaped your thick head' Harry spat. Getting up he regarded his cousin, 'Doesn't feel so good when you're at the other end of the stick now does it? Somehow, I can understand now why you are such a bully. It certainly is fun having that much power over someone weaker than you ... oh I have waited a long time for this.' His voice trailed off into a hiss.

'You think you're such a big man carrying that thing around, don't you? I'd like to see you try and take me on without it!'

'What, oh you mean this! It's called a wand Diddikins, can you pronounce it? Wa-and,' said Harry, dragging out the last word in a mock-baby voice waving the aforementioned wand in his cousin's fat face, emitting gold sparks as he did so. 'Surely that thick lump of lard that you call a brain can pronounce it. Personally if you ask me I think that all that money is being wasted on you in Smellings. You obviously don't learn much there do you?'

'It's Smeltings and g-get that thing away from me!' said Dudley, warily eyeing the wand, his face going white as it emitted the sparks.

'Smeltings, Smellings,' Harry waved his left hand in a see-saw motion, 'makes no difference; it's a filthy Muggle school anyway. And as for fighting you fairly without a wand, why should I? You've always had to have your little friends backing you up when picking on me didn't you? Hell, you still need them to hold your hand when picking on nine year olds!' Harry shook his head mockingly, 'I bet without them all the kids would laugh at how pathetic you are. As for me; well, it's just me, my wand and my magic.' Looking at Dudley flinch at the word magic, Harry smiled and said maliciously, 'Yes, Magic. Still afraid of that word are we Diddikins? Well you should be.' He sidled up towards his cousin's ear, 'Using magic, I can make you feel pain beyond imagining with just a thought ... I can kill you just by desiring your death, or make your life a living hell ... all by just using my imagination and saying a few words ... So you would be right to fear me Dudley Dursley.' He paused to look at his cousin's horrified face. 'And the best bit is no one would ever know, or be able to find out or even care; because to us wizards, you Muggles are nothing but filthy beasts. So be afraid, be very afraid ...'

Harry straightened up and stretched, 'Well, I'm heading out, got better things to do than sit here with you, as much as I enjoyed our bonding session.' He headed to the door.

Opening it, he paused at the threshold, 'Oh, and by the way, your mum's gone out somewhere, so it looks like you'll have to fend for yourself as far as food is concerned. I kind of ate the stuff she had prepared for you.' Giving an exaggerated belch, Harry waltzed out into the sunshine snickering, leaving Dudley to painfully pick himself up.

Closing the door behind him, Harry walked down the street towards the space he had found for himself a few days back. Today was an especially warm and sunny Saturday; not a cloud in the sky. That meant that there were a lot of people outside basking in the sun and enjoying the rare weather.
Harry had built up quite a sweat walking and so had stopped to remove his t-shirt in an effort to alleviate the heat he was feeling. Stuffing it in the back pocket of his shorts, he continued on towards the park feeling the slightly cooler air on his chest, the silver necklace glinting brightly in the sunlight. He had started to feel more self-confident and comfortable in his body.

Reaching the fence, he surreptitiously slipped into his spot hoping he wasn't seen. There he set down the books he had carried with him and started to practice some of the spells listed there. He couldn't do anything too serious as he could not risk being seen. The clearing may be secluded, but it wasn't big. While he couldn't use fire based or explosive spells, he could still transfigure and use other offensive and defensive spells.

Harry decided to practice some of his Transfiguration today. While he found himself taking to Curses Hexes and Charms with an unusual and near frightening speed, the same could not be said about Transfiguration. It seemed that Voldemort really did not spend that much time transfiguring things when duelling. Preferring to Curse, Hex, Jinx and Charm the life out of his opponents.

Thus seeing a weakness in Voldemort's duelling technique, Harry concentrated on Transfiguration. He himself never was that good at the subject, but then again, he hadn't really applied himself before. However that was about to change, so Harry started out from the beginning working his way up from first year spells. The additional books he had bought on Transfiguration had all stressed that he needed a solid foundation from which to build on. This is why students started out small, transfiguring small things like matches into needles. The skill may be useless, but it was a building exercise to bigger and better things.

Harry spent about two hours transfiguring various objects and creatures. His goal was to minimise his wand movements and be able to do it silently. He had more success with the latter than with the former.

Finishing for the day, and sweaty from the spell work, Harry got up to have the lunch that had just appeared courtesy of his elves. Contrary to what he had claimed, he hadn't eaten the food his aunt had made Dudley. While his aunt was a decent cook, Harry's house-elves were even better, having gained experience at Hogwarts. Thus Harry preferred their food.
Not that it stopped him from nicking Dudley's food and throwing it in the bin. After all, his cousin could gain to lose some weight. A small part of him did think it would have been better if he had sent it to an orphanage or something, but Harry didn't want to expose those people to his aunt's cooking. They were tortured enough.

Harry had his lunch in the play park with the throng of Muggles out enjoying the sun. The reason for this mainly was to refine his Legilimency skills. Ever since being possessed by Tom, Harry had found himself reading people's thoughts whenever he had made eye contact with them. This grew to the point that from yesterday, he no longer needed to look them in the eye to be able to hear their surface thoughts.

This was getting a bit distracting. Harry really had no desire to hear the private thoughts of all the people around him all the time! It had resulted in one hell of a headache yesterday being privy to all those thoughts. He was lucky that there weren't that many people around. Even worse were some of the thoughts that Harry had accidentally lifted from some older women concerning him and his posterior (among other parts of his body) when they had noticed him. Those were rather disturbing.

So Harry had spent the day frantically trying to stem the influx of thoughts he was getting. An hour of practicing had finally managed to yield results rewarding him with blessed silence. However, he knew that the skill needed to be refined and improved so he started practicing by picking thoughts of targeted individuals in a crowd.

After learning a few interesting facts about the people around him, Harry relaxed and started to meditate. He spent some time bolstering his mental defences and organising his thoughts before sinking deep within his mind looking for his magical core. He had stumbled across his magical core a few days back when on a whim, he had decided to see how far and deep he could go while meditating.

His meditation done, Harry opened his eyes and relaxed for a while pondering what to do for the rest of the day. Looking at his wrist finally gave him an idea; he got up and putting on his t-shirt on, went back into his practice arena. There he Apparated to his room to put his books away, before Apparating back. He stepped out of the clearing and headed for the town centre.

Locating a watch store, he entered the store to browse for a bit. Knowing that he wouldn't be able to wear digital watches, he opted for the traditional analogue ones. The fact that they looked good was an added bonus. Harry finally found seven automatic watches from various brands that he really liked. Finding the decision a bit too hard, he tallied the amount, and finding that it was well within his limit, settled for buying all seven of them.
Harry watched the surprised salesman pack six of his selections and played with the seventh, sliding it up and down his arm. He wondered if he had suddenly got a fixation with the number seven. So far he had bought seven pairs of boxers, bonded to seven house-elves and now was buying seven watches. As Harry handed his card to pay the bill (barely flinching at the six thousand five hundred Pound total he had racked up) he decided that it was all in his imagination.

It was about seven by Harry's new Saturday Watch when he had finally returned to his room. Taking out his wand, he placed a bevy of useful charms on his watches before stashing them away, now unbreakable, scratch proof and capable of coming out of a volcano or the deepest ocean completely intact and functioning with an anti-theft charm that nobody would want to get on the wrong side of.
He changed his clothes and headed out for the night. After a satisfying dinner and wandering the streets for a bit, he headed back to his room, where after performing his nightly routine, he settled down to clear his mind before going to sleep. While he no longer had visions from dear old Tom, he still was susceptible to weird dreams and nightmares as his first night in Privet Drive had proven.

Harry had noticed that organising his mind had also lowered the amount of sleep he needed to get in a night. So far he was down to five hours, and hoped to reduce it even more when he had fully organised his mind.

As he lay in bed waiting for sleep to claim him, Harry mulled over the past few days. He had sort of built up a routine. Every morning he would get up early to jog around the block, increasing his distance and stamina. He would then head to the clearing where after a few stretches, he would do a few push ups, pull ups, and crunches. Then he would jog back to an unnoticed spot near Number Four and Apparate back to his room, have a bath and after a large breakfast, spend some time organising his past memories.

He would then head back to the clearing and practise some of his magic till lunch. After that, he would practise more magic till dinnertime. Then, practically exhausted, he would slip into bed; clearing his mind and going to sleep. He decided to lighten up on the weekends, electing to spend the afternoons and nights just loitering around and enjoying the summer.

Harry woke up on Sunday with a letter from Gringotts. After apologising about the delay in replying to the letter Harry had sent before school had closed, Gornuk had rescheduled the meeting they were supposed to have to the 20th of July at ten. Making a note of the change, Harry headed back out for the day.
Coming back in the afternoon and finding the house empty, Harry decided to start on some of his payback.

He started at Dudley's room. He had picked some vague thoughts from the fat boy's mind about schoolwork the last time he had seen him and wanted to see what it was all about. Entering the room, he headed to the desk drawer associated with those thoughts. After some rifling, he found it; lying there was a large package with the crest of Dudley's school. In it was some makeup work that Dudley had been given in order to be able to write his GCSEs in the coming year along with his report card and a note his school had sent to his parents that he had done appallingly in his coursework. The headmaster had also written about his behaviour too, threatening his immediate expulsion should his grades and attitude fail to improve. Somehow, Dudley had managed to intercept all of that.

Harry had no idea how Dudley had managed that, or what he planned on doing with it, as the school required his parents' signature. Perhaps he was planning on forging it ... that would be amusing once the school found out. But Harry decided that he was looking for more instant and visual gratification. A plan forming in his mind, Harry Apparated out to his old Muggle primary school where he made several copies using the photocopier he remembered being in the staff room. Quickly returning back to Dudley's room, he placed the originals back to where they belonged before slinking off to exact some revenge on his aunt.

Monday morning was heralded by Aunt Petunia's shrieking. Smirking, Harry sauntered down. His aunt was standing just outside the back door looking at her precious garden in horror.
Her once pristine garden that was considered to be the best in the neighbourhood, and the source of her pride and standing, was no longer recognisable. Gone was the green and freshly mowed grass. It was replaced almost overnight by withered yellowed grass which looked more at home in an abandoned lot. The rose bushes which once were the envy of every housewife of the neighbourhood and pruned to near perfection by a professional landscaper yesterday (not that Petunia would admit to it) had somehow grown out of control. And finally the pride of her garden, her begonias, petunias and agapanthuses were now nearly dying and choked with all the weeds that had sprouted up.

'Like what I've done to your garden?' came the jeering voice of her nephew. Petunia turned around to see him standing inside the house and looking at her with a triumphant expression on his face.

Predictably, Petunia started screeching indignantly at Harry, 'What have you done to my garden you stupid boy! You fix this right now!'

'Or you'll do what? Screech at me even more?' said Harry sardonically. 'You got that garden through the fruits of my labour. You were so happy in showing it off to your neighbours, taking all the credit for my work! So I thought that it would only be fair that I put it back to what it should have been under you care. A pathetic Muggle garden!' he spat the last bit out.

Either his aunt was unperturbed by his voice or she was unused to having her nephew defy her so openly, because she did not lose the glare that used to intimidate Harry when he was younger. Marching up to him, she poked her finger in his chest and said menacingly, 'You better fix that garden right now boy, and after that, you can start repainting the fence. I've had it with your insolence. We've been nothing but kind and generous towards you, undeserving as you are. We have clothed and fed you have put a roof over your head! It's time you start earning your keep around the house. Now change back into the clothes we have provided for you and get to work, you ungrateful brat! I don't know what you have done to get those clothes and I will not stand for it.'

Harry noticed that she now reached up to his chest, and had to look up at him to meet his eyes. Not subdued in the least by her tirade he very calmly and with deliberate coldness said, 'No.'

Completely thrown over this unexpected reply, Petunia took a moment to screech out a, 'what did you say?'

'I said, no you stupid horse! You call yourselves kind and generous? Ha, what a load of shite! While that fat blubbering brat you call a son had two rooms for himself and his broken toys, I had to make do with the fucking cupboard underneath the stairs! The only reason I got that room was because that son of a whore husband of yours thought that he was being watched! And to top it all, you tried to make it into my jail cell as well! As for the food; you make me cook your food, and then you have the gall to deny that to me as well! What little I get happens to be either stale, left over, or burnt! All the clothes I got were that fat pig's cast offs which were four times bigger than me at the very least! So don't give me that tripe about your generosity. As for "earning my keep", you bastards have made me your virtual slave all the years I have been here, while that idiot son of yours has been lollygagging around. I bet the only reason you let me in the house is because of the protection you have been offered. I even bet there is also some money involved in it!' Seeing her flinch, Harry knew that he had hit the proverbial nail in the head.

Recovering quickly, his aunt snarled raising her hand, 'How dare you!'

However, before she could follow through, Harry easily caught her arm. Squeezing it hard enough to make her wince, he pushed her away from him a little before viciously backhanding her, sending her to the floor.

'Hurts, doesn't it?' he said softly, rubbing his knuckles as he looked down on her clutching her face. 'Then again, I doubt it's that bad, considering the number of times you have taken a frying pan to my head.' He loomed over her, enjoying the emerging fear in her eyes as he whispered, 'The next time you try to touch me, you'll be able to see firsthand if the frying pan hurts more. I'll see to it!'

Looking at the bruise forming on her face, he said mockingly, 'Oh we can't have that! What will the neighbours say?' With that he removed his wand and nonchalantly cast a Glamour charm on her arm and face, ignoring her violent flinch. Seeing that he had done a good job covering the bruises, he nodded to himself satisfactorily. 'Now you won't be able to say anything to anybody because you have no proof! Not that I would try it, since otherwise, you'd really be able to see what pain truly feels like! But just to make sure,' he cast a mild sealing charm on her. It wasn't considered dark since it could easily be broken in time by a person's core magic. Something he was confident Petunia didn't have being a Muggle.

Chuckling darkly, he left her on the floor and headed towards the clearing for his daily routine. He felt satisfied that he had got some revenge against his aunt. After finishing a large lunch, he activated his necklace and Apparated directly outside his uncle's office in Grunnings; casting a one way transparency charm on the door, he noted that his uncle had gone out for lunch, and if his calculations were right, would be gone for quite a while. Instead of opening the door, Harry directly Apparated into his uncle's office, cancelling the charm on the door. He didn't want anybody to notice the door opening or closing or noticing an oddly transparent door.
Once inside, he unlocked the drawers in his uncle's desk. While rifling through Vernon's mind, he had figured out that he was going to give an important presentation to some wealthy foreign clients. It would be a shame if Vernon didn't have the right documents...

Finally finding the files he had been looking for, Harry replaced the packets of notes that were intended for the clients with copies of the stuff he had copied from Dudley's room. Resealing the envelopes with magic, Harry disappeared from the office. He was really looking forward to the show tonight.

Harry wasn't disappointed. Vernon had come home in a towering rage. Only this time that rage wasn't directed on his nephew. No, for the first time, he actually was angry with his own son.
The minute Harry heard his uncle's car approaching he put on his cloak and sat down at the top of the stairs with his wand ready.

He expected his uncle to stomp through the front door completely livid holding the offending notes. He anticipated the bellow of 'Where's that boy!' to echo around the house shaking it to its foundation.

What he didn't expect was Vernon to be referring to Dudley instead of him. Harry watched the unfolding drama with fascination as his aunt replied with the predictable, 'Out having tea with his friends.'

As the elder Dursleys moved to the kitchen, he silently and invisibly snuck in behind them. He watched as Vernon showed Petunia the documents he had seen that were replaced with his notes. Harry almost felt sorry for his relatives for the ugly truth they had been confronted with regards to their son as he looked at Petunia's face cycle through annoyance, confusion, anger and finally disappointment.

Just as things couldn't get worse for Dudley, the phone rang. Vernon went to the living room to answer it. After a bit of heated discussion, he came back even mad than before.

Aunt Petunia looked at him in concern for a few minutes, 'What is wrong dear? Who was that on the phone?' she inquired hesitatingly

After a few minutes spent fuming, Vernon answered, 'It was the police. It seems that your son has been arrested for vandalising public property. He and his mates were also sloshed and if that weren't enough, they tried to assault a police officer! Our own son!'

'They must have made a mistake! He wouldn't have done anything like that! Dudley is a good boy!' wailed Aunt Petunia disbelievingly. Harry snorted softly to himself; they really were blind to that fat pig's faults.

'Oh it gets better,' said Vernon, 'Turns out that when they reached the station, there was a gentleman already there complaining about some yobs throwing stones at passing cars, and had heavily dented his. He was registering a complaint when he saw Dudley and his friends come in. Apparently, he recognised and identified them as the ones behind it!'

Horrified, Petunia said, 'He must have been mistaken! Oh Vernon, let's go there right now and get Dudders out from that horrible place! God only knows what our poor baby might be exposed to in there.'

'We can't Pet,' said Vernon defeated, 'The magistrate's not going to be in the office till tomorrow morning at ten. It looks like Dudley will have to rough it out for the night.'

Petunia immediately started lamenting about the different horrors her precious Dinky Diddidums would be exposed to over the night getting more and more hysterical. Harry then decided he needed to leave. It had definitely become boring now that Petunia was losing her senses.

The real fun began the next day. After Harry had finished his lunch, he saw his uncle's car go by. Not wasting any time, he immediately Apparated to his room and settled down on the top of the staircase where he had a good view of the front door.
Harry watched with interest as his Aunt opened the door to admit one pissed off Vernon Dursley followed by a meek Dudley. Ushering them into the kitchen, his aunt closed the door where the shouting match of a lifetime had begun making it completely unnecessary for Harry to cast any of the eavesdropping charms he had learnt.

It turned out that the car Dudley had damaged happened to be worth over half a million quid. To add to it, it was also brand new and had just been released in the market. So to say that the owner was angry over the windshield being smashed in was a gross understatement. And to top it all off, that man happened to be a friend of a friend of Albert Grunning, Uncle Vernon's boss.

All in all, things were definitely not looking up for Vernon, because the one thing you never do is antagonise a person who could probably knock you flat with only his wallet. Not only did Vernon have to pay the man for his damaged Lamborghini (a hefty sum in itself) but he also had to pay the hefty fine for the damage Dudley and his friends had caused to the play park. In addition to that, the four of them would have to serve time fixing the damage they had wreaked. The magistrate was rather pissed off at the numerous complaints that had come in over the past year about the destruction of that park and now that the perpetrators had been caught, he had really thrown the book at them.

The only consolation that could be found here was that Piers', Malcolm's and Gordon's parents also had to share the cost of the fine as well as the lawsuit. Otherwise, as Vernon had exclaimed rather loudly to his son, they would all be broke and 'Forced into the streets you stupid boy!'

True, they could all appeal against it, but the parents wanted to keep it all quiet, and a public trial would ensure the opposite happened. Besides, according to Vernon as he explained it to his wife, their lawyers had strongly suggested against it as the case was airtight. Better to cough up now rather than risk paying an even larger amount and possible public humiliation.

Then after that came the inquisition about Dudley's marks and performance in school. There was even more yelling (from Vernon), screeching and subsequent crying (from Petunia) from the mumbled excuses that Harry could hear coming from his cousin which he had no doubt were utterly lame.

Eventually came the verdict; Dudley found himself (to his mute horror) actually grounded to his room for the first time in his short life for the rest of the summer with his television and computer games being removed and his internet privileges strictly monitored. The only time he would be allowed outside would be to go to the loo. And the only time he was allowed outside the house was when the constables had come to pick him up to supervise his sentence.

Of course this led to even more shouting (this time from Dudley as well as Vernon), screeching, and crying. Dudley even tried to throw a tantrum, but it seemed that Vernon had more than enough as Harry suddenly saw the door being flung open. Quickly darting to his room, he activated his necklace before watching in fascination as a red faced and furious Vernon struggled up the stairs, dragging Dudley by the ear and into his room much to Dudley's vocal protestation.

Chuckling to himself, Harry secured his door from entry by any mad Muggles and Apparated out back to his clearing to continue his routine very much pleased about things.

Over the next few days news had spread like wildfire thanks to the gossipy housewives about Dudley's arrest along with three of his friends and their subsequent punishment. The children that once were terrorised by the gang were now gleefully swapping stories about what their parents had done to the miscreants. The four were now rather subdued whenever seen in public. Though Dudley had been harshly punished (in his opinion) he had been let off rather lightly relatively speaking. Piers and Malcolm found it rather hard to sit for a week and were routinely tormented by some of the braver kids who had taken great glee in flicking their tenderised bottoms and watching them wince when the constable on duty was not looking (which was, conveniently, quite often).
Harry used this opportunity to practise his stealth and accuracy. He would skulk around at a distance watching Dudley and his friends work and send out stinging hexes surreptitiously ensuring that Piers and Malcolm were uncomfortable for a much longer time than normal. He also worked on timing them just right so that it seemed that it was the children who were behind the entire thing. Though there were some moments where his targets and their tormentors had become slightly suspicious, nobody had ever suspected Harry.

Harry also found his standing with the residents changing as well. After one neighbour had inquired about "the Potter boy" to the policeman who was supervising Dudley and his gang, news had also spread that there was no record of any Harry Potter from Little Whinging ever attending St. Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Almost overnight, and eerily reminiscent of the end of his fifth year, Harry found his status changing from a hardened hooligan to a hero. Especially when ten year old Mark Evans (who was about to turn eleven in a few days, by the way) made it known that it was Harry who had saved him from being beaten to a pulp by Dudley and his gang. His reputation was further enhanced when he was seen hanging around and watching the miscreants with an eagle eye. The neighbours got the impression that Harry was ensuring that the hooligans weren't about to do something unsavoury. This however, only served to irritate Harry a lot. The Muggles weren't any better than the wizarding world after all. Not. One. Bit! Just like Fudge and his ministry, it took having the facts being shoved right in front of their noses for the Muggles to realise the truth.

Things in Number Four, however, were tense. Dudley had already been caught once trying to sneak out of the window, though a more accurate term would be "stuck" as Dudley had not been able to fully fit through the window in his bid for freedom. The entire neighbourhood was treated to the sight of his fat bottom sticking out of the window the next morning as he had inexplicably fallen asleep in that position after futile attempts at getting unstuck.
A furious Vernon had to call in the fire department to get his son unstuck causing quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood much to Petunia's embarrassment and Harry's unbridled joy. The upshot of the whole incident was that Dudley had been relegated to the guest room while his window had to be fixed back. He was then put on a strict diet by his uncompromising and unsympathetic mother. It seems that Dudley had finally managed to cross a line with Petunia Dursley as she did not force anybody else to follow the same diet (much to her husband's relief).

The Dursleys had all decided to avoid Harry at all costs. Vernon now went to work even earlier and returned even later than normal for his position as he had to do a lot of scrambling and arse-licking to keep his job.

Petunia was now terrified of her nephew ever since Harry had shown his mean streak. She would scramble out of any room that Harry would enter, not meeting his eyes and would jump at any noise or sudden movement made by him. Something that Harry took great pleasure in.

Dudley was now relegated to his room without any distractions leaving him no choice but to study, though Harry suspected that he may have been staring into space the entire time.

All in all, Harry really was enjoying the summer at Privet Drive. Though he was slightly disappointed that he never did get to fully use the book he had bought. Perhaps he could get some more vengeance on Dudley's gang? Piers, Gordon and Malcolm would have finished serving time in their respective rooms (though they still had to repair the play park). Harry might have some more fun with the boys who had tormented him for ten years of his life.

8. What the Family?

The twelfth of July saw Harry putting on a cloak over his t-shirt and jeans and Apparating to Diagon Alley.

It was a Saturday and Harry had just finished his morning regimen. He had grown bored with hanging around the same streets and shops around his neighbourhood and was looking for a change of scene.

Having appeared in Diagon Alley, he immediately activated his necklace before setting off. As he was walking the streets, he noticed a slight difference in the alley. From what Harry could gather from the Prophet, Voldemort had yet to attack ever since his return was announced by the Ministry and this had put everybody on edge.

Adding to that unease was Fudge's desperate attempts at staying in power. Harry figured that Fudge would be out soon if the stories were anything to go by. The public was baying for the incompetent minister's blood and a vote of no-confidence was imminent. The only thing keeping Fudge in office right now was that his replacement had yet to be elected. So far it was a tie between Amelia Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour, though that was speculated to change very shortly. This, Harry supposed, was the reason for the underlying tension that he could sense in the crowd of shoppers in the alley.

He picked up a few introductory texts on Runes and Arithmancy at Flourish and Blotts to see if it caught his fancy. Perhaps if he was any good at it, or found it interesting enough, he could think about taking the OWL course when he returned back to school. He knew that he probably would end up sitting with third years, but that didn't really bother him.

Harry also bought a book on some household spells. Recently he had found that his clothes were beginning to get a little small as he had filled out some. While his elves were more than happy to fix that problem, he was still intrigued at what a clothes altering charm could do. It might come in handy in a duel to have his opponent stumbling around in oversized robes. Who knew; there might be other spells worth using there too.

As he exited the bookstore, he noticed a figure. The man's face was nondescript and you normally wouldn't be able to spot him in a crowd, but something in his demeanour caught Harry's attention. Ensuring that the charms on his necklace were active, he followed the man, careful to keep his distance.

Seeing his mark slip into Knockturn Alley, Harry flipped up the hood of his cloak hoping that he did not seem too suspicious and silently vowing to carry his Invisibility cloak everywhere he went. He did not know how he knew that person or why he was following him, but something about his posture and the way he walked seemed oddly familiar to Harry.

The man stopped at a small seedy looking pub with the head of a raven in its sign. Harry quickly and silently hit the man with an Eavesdropping Charm just as he was about to slip in. He knew that following the man into the pub might not be a good idea as one slip could reveal the Muggle clothing underneath his cloak and that was bound to be noticed as all the patrons would be looking at him the minute he opened that door.

Harry slipped out of the main street and casually leant against the wall of the pub to listen to the impending conversation, concentrating on holding the charm.

'What news do you have for me Worm?' growled a deep gravelly voice.

'T-the Master has a task for you, Mr. Greyback' replied the first man in a high squeaky voice trying and failing to sound confident. Harry nearly lost concentration upon recognising that voice; it was Wormtail! The snivelling bastard that had betrayed his parents framed his godfather and finally used Harry to resurrect Voldemort. With great difficulty Harry managed to control his first instinct to rush in to capture the traitor. Now was not the time to go rushing headlong into things. He turned his attention back to maintaining the charm and listening to the conversation.

'-get the old wand maker for Our Lord, you are to attack the Bones' Residence and kill all the inhabitants and their body guards. Auror Roberts will be assisting you in circumventing the wards. You are to leave him behind alive. Make it look like he was the lone survivor,' said Wormtail.

His menacing companion, now identified as Greyback chuckled darkly, 'I hear that her niece is going to be there as well. Delicious! I will enjoy feasting on her virgin flesh!'

Harry heard Wormtail squeak at that line in what he thought was a lot of fear and a tiny hint of revulsion.

Greyback chuckled menacingly, 'Run back to The Master and tell him that the Bones family will finally be extinct before the full moon sets. I will personally see to it.' there was a short pause, 'what are you doing, you stupid rat? Stop staring at me like a twit and move it before I decide to have you as an appetizer!' The man growled.

Wormtail squeaked and scrambled to his feet. Harry could tell that the man had been staring at his companion for a whole minute before being galvanised into action. The charm was suddenly cut off indicating that Pettigrew had gone out of range of the charm.

Bringing himself back to reality, Harry made his way towards Diagon Alley as fast as possible. He had to find a way to warn Susan and her aunt about the impeding attack on their home. As he passed by Ollivander's shop he remembered a part of the conversation. Realising that the "old wand-maker" being referred to could only be Ollivander, Harry hurried into the store.

'Mr. Ollivander?' he called out as soon as he entered inside looking frantically for the man.

'Ah Mr. Potter, I hope that everything is all right with your wand?' came the ethereal voice of Ollivander as he suddenly appeared from the depths of his shop.

Harry hastily stopped the man from saying anything more, 'My wand's fine Mr. Ollivander. Aside from the fact that I won't be able to use it to fight against Voldemort properly, it's in perfect condition. But forget about that, I came here to warn you. I just heard that Voldemort had ordered your capture. They might even come for you tonight!'

Ollivander gave Harry a piercing look 'Indeed?' He said, 'then I owe you a debt of gratitude Mr. Potter, I shall take the necessary precautions.'

'So will you be leaving the country?' asked Harry curiously.

'Oh no Mr. Potter, I fully intend to stay at my shop, just as my ancestors have ever since the beginning of my family's business. We have weathered many Dark Lords in our time, and this one is not going to be shutting the business down. No, I intend to raise the family wards back up again for the first time in four hundred years. A regrettable decision, but we must do what we must in these times. Nobody with ill intent will ever be able to set foot into my shop.' Ollivander paused to take a breath, 'If there is nothing else Mr. Potter, perhaps I can take your leave? Raising the wards will take time that I do not have to waste.'

'Er, no Mr. Ollivander. I think I shall be on my way now,' Said Harry slightly unsettled at the calm tone Ollivander was using. He turned around, but before he could step outside, he was stopped with a sharp 'Just what do you think you are doing, young man?'

'Sorry?' asked Harry nonplussed as he turned around to see a crazed look on the wand-maker's face.

'This!' Said Ollivander, as he strode forward and plucked out Harry's wand from the back pocket of his trousers. Holding it under Harry's nose, he continued with a quiet fury, 'Are you thick or something boy! You do not stick a wand in your back pocket! Especially with the handle pointing outwards! You are lucky you haven't blown your scrawny arse off yet!'

Harry quailed under the shorter man's sudden fury. 'I didn't know that,' he said haltingly. 'They never told me that at school! Besides, where am I supposed to carry it and be able to draw it at a moment's notice?' he added in his voice slowly taking an indignant tone.

'Do not take that tone with me young man.' Said Ollivander dangerously, he took Harry's ear and twisted it painfully, bringing it close to him causing the taller teen to stoop with a yelp 'Just because nobody told you does not mean that you don't take the initiative yourself. The books for wand safety and care are readily available at Flourish and Blotts, if you had cared to look.' He whispered waspishly into the ear in his hand as he gave it another twist.

'Ow! All right, all right, let go!' said Harry as he winced at the pain in his ear. The last time his ear was twisted so painfully was when he and Ron had been caught out of bed by McGonagall in the Christmas holidays in their Second Year the night after the Polyjuice Potion incident. She had proceeded to drag them up three floors by their ears giving them a tongue lashing all the way to her office. But even that did not compare to what he was feeling now.

Ollivander suddenly let go of Harry's ear and with a sharp 'Stay here!' moved to the back of his shop muttering underneath his breath about "kids these days" and how disrespectful and lazy they were becoming off late.

Harry stood there at the front of the shop rubbing his smarting ear and muttering about crazy old men. He abruptly stopped as he heard Ollivander call out from the back, 'I heard that!'

Ollivander then came out carrying a bundle. Banging it onto the table, he beckoned Harry over impatiently and said, 'This is a wand holster generally used by duellists. You place it on the underside of your forearm where it attaches itself by a sticking charm and put your wand inside it. You can draw your wand out quickly just by willing it into your hand. How quick is up to you. You will, naturally need to practise with it to decrease your draw time. I have calibrated it to your wand and forearm size. Now put it on this instant and if I ever find out that you have stuck your wand in your back pocket again, you will wish that the wand had blown your buttocks off after I'm through with them! Am I clear?'

Harry nodded rapidly, his face flushed in embarrassment at the implications of Ollivander's statement as he put on the holster and placed his wand inside.

'This one is a premium holster made of Basilisk hide imported from the continent lined with Demiguise hair and Acromantula silk and sewn together with Unicorn hair. As long as the holster is on your wrist, it will stay invisible and intangible and can only be removed by you.' said Ollivander. He then proceeded to show Harry how to draw his wand out from his holster till he was satisfied Harry had it down pat. After charging Harry 100 Galleons for the holster and a further 10 Galleons for a book on wand care, he sent Harry off with another warning and a well placed stinging hex that had Harry flying out of the shop rubbing his bum.

Harry stood outside the shop rubbing his ear with one hand and his rear with another. He was sure that the old man had raised a welt with that stinging hex.

Looking around he suddenly spotted Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot walking into Florean Fortescue's.

His pain momentarily forgotten, Harry followed the two girls in. Spotting them at a table, he made his way down and plopped himself down at the table only to be painfully reminded of his encounter with Ollivander.

The girls looked up in surprise at the sudden intrusion. It took them a few minutes before recognising the person in front of them, 'Harry?' exclaimed Susan, 'Is that really you?'

'Yeah,' said Harry barely suppressing a grimace upon sitting down so hard

'Wow, you've grown!' Said Hannah, looking openly at him, 'And you have gotten rid of your glasses too!' she said appreciatively, eyeing him with a peculiar look on her face.

Susan elbowed Hannah in the ribs and turned to Harry, 'Fancy seeing you here Mr. Potter. What can the two of us do for the Chosen One?' she said saucily.

Harry rolled his eyes at her reference to the latest title the Daily Prophet had come up with when they weren't occupied with who was going to be Minister. Before he could open his mouth however, Hannah interjected with a question, 'what happened to your ear?'

Blushing, Harry fingered his still red ear and quickly said, 'Never you mind,' turning to Susan he said urgently, 'Susan, I have something I need to tell you; I have just heard that Death Eaters plan on attacking your house tomorrow night. You and your aunt need to get the hell out of there!'

Susan's playful expression immediately vanished. 'Are you sure?' she asked with a seriousness that was alien on her normally cheerful and optimistic face. Harry just nodded in reply.

'Well, there really is nothing much to worry about' said Hannah after a small pause, 'Your Aunt's bodyguards and your family wards will be able to keep them at bay till help arrives.'

'Actually that is another problem.' Said Harry gravely, 'Susan, you have a traitor within your guard. A man called Roberts I think. He is going to help them get around the wards.'

At this new piece of information, Susan paled dramatically. 'No' she whispered.

'Yes,' replied Harry, 'a man called Greyback or something is going to be leading the team.'

'Greyback? You don't mean Fenrir Greyback!' squeaked both the girls in horror.

'I wouldn't know,' said Harry warily, 'I only heard his last name. Why, does it matter?'

'Because Fenrir Greyback is the most feared werewolf in the whole of Britain,' said Susan in a small voice. 'All pureblood children have grown up hearing horror stories about Greyback. He was supposed to have disappeared around sixteen years ago.'

'Well, judging by his remarks about eating your virgin flesh Susan, I think it may be that person.' Said Harry dryly, remembering what he had heard the man say.

Susan looked mildly disgusted at this piece of news, 'I have to tell aunty as soon as possible.' Looking around she said to herself with a hint of frustration colouring her voice, 'Where the hell is that Tonks when you need her!'

Harry perked up at the name, 'Tonks? Why would you be meeting Tonks?' he asked warily.

'Oh she's a part of the detail protecting us. She's supposed to be escorting us actually and told us she'd meet us here. Why, do you know her?' asked Susan.

'Bugger,' Harry cursed looking around in panic. 'Listen, when Tonks gets here, tell her everything and tell her to alert the Order-' Seeing the look of confusion on her face he carried on, 'Don't worry about that, she'll know what you will be talking about. Just tell her that and get to your house as fast as possible. Oh and don't tell Tonks that I was here. In fact don't tell anybody that I gave that information to you. Now I gotta go.' With that he bolted out of the parlour and into the street leaving two very confused witches spluttering after him.

Harry was out just in time for he saw Tonks enter at just that moment, her bright pink hair rather distinguishable. Harry quickly Disapparated to his room and collapsed onto his bed exhaling in relief. That had been close he thought. He winced as his backside throbbed again. Getting up, he stood in front of the mirror to examine the damage letting his trousers and pants pool at his feet. Crazy old man he thought as he saw the livid red welt there. He drew his wand out into his hand with a flick of his wrist and a thrust of his arm marvelling at the action. Stepping out of his pants, he searched his books for some healing spells.

Finding a bruise healing spell he tried casting it on himself and was satisfied at the results. Harry smiled in smug satisfaction at the results and thanked his lucky stars that he had the foresight to buy that book on household charms.

Harry was ready at around half past nine for his appointment with Gornuk on the Twentieth. Not wasting any time, he pocketed his invisibility cloak and Apparated to Diagon Alley where he quickly made his way towards Gringotts.

He was around ten minutes early for his appointment as he was ushered into Gornuk's office.

'Ah Mr. Potter-Black, you are early. Please, sit down. We will have to wait for Grimjaw.'

Grimjaw chose that moment to enter. He took one look at Harry and said, 'It seems that our suspicions were right. The ritual took less time than usual to reach its full completion.'

'That's good right?' said Harry nervously.

'It doesn't matter,' said Gornuk dismissively. 'What matters is the end result, and it definitely looks like it has been successful as you can see from the change in your appearance.'

Harry just nodded silently, unwilling to admit out loud that he hadn't had any time to look at his face in the mirror. Sure the first three days after the ritual he had spent a long time studying his reflection trying to see if he had changed any, but after being compared by a grinning Seamus to Parvati and Lavender, he had stopped.

Though Harry no longer had any grudge with his Irish dorm-mate; he had gotten his revenge in the end after all. The story of Seamus' bedwetting incident had spread like wildfire through Gryffindor house. Harry supposed that was why people didn't recognise him much at first glance in the alley as he remembered with a jolt that he had forgotten to activate the necklace.

'We'll need to verify the results of the ritual of course,' Said Grimjaw bringing Harry back to reality, he gave Harry a dagger, 'Some of your blood should do it nicely.'

Nodding, Harry drew the dagger over his left palm wincing slightly. Handing the bloodstained dagger to Grimjaw, he took his wand out to heal the wound, thankful that he had already learnt that spell. After his encounter with Ollivander, he had made it a point to learn all the healing spells he could find in his books. So far, he could mend minor cuts and bruises with ease and was hoping to graduate to learning how to mend broken bones and dislocated joints, after getting the right books of course. Dudley had been a rather "willing" participant in Harry's endeavours to learn those spells (in addition to the spells that called for the need to use those healing spells in the first place) after all...

His wound healed, Harry turned his attention back to an amused Grimjaw. 'You know, Mr. Potter-Black, a drop would have been more than enough.'

'Oh,' said Harry turning red, 'then why give me such a huge dagger?'

'Because,' the goblin said indifferently, 'that happened to be the only sharp instrument in my possession. It's not like I carry needles on my person.' He said sarcastically.

Gornuk cleared his throat interrupting Harry before he could open his mouth to argue further. Taking the dagger, he wiped it on a special sheet of parchment that was fairly shimmering with magic causing it to glow white and slowly start to expand.

'We use this to trace the heritage of a person Mr. Potter-Black.' He said at Harry's inquiring gaze. 'If the ritual has been successful, it will show the late Sirius Black as your magically adoptive father. And it may indicate any claims you can make to any other families should they appear.'

At this Gornuk looked back down at the roll of parchment that had stopped glowing. He studied it for a long moment, saying nothing with a blank expression on his face, looking remarkably like a particularly ugly wax statue Harry had once seen in a shop. Only when he was interrupted by an impatient Grimjaw, Harry realised that it was a look of frank disbelief on Gornuk's face.

'Interesting' said Gornuk looking up he said something to Grimjaw in Gobbledegook that sparked off a heated conversation between the two goblins who had crowded together behind Gornuk's desk looking at the document in front of them in fascination (and if Harry wasn't imagining it) disbelief.

Harry couldn't take the suspense anymore, 'What is it?'

'Well, Mr. Potter-Black, when a person undergoes magical adoption, their family tree just shows the adoptive parent and the blood relatives of the person, if they are magical-the parchment cannot detect Muggle ancestors.' Gornuk paused to take a breath. 'So basically, it should be showing only the dearly departed Lord Black's name in blue just below your parents' name.'

'So what happened here? Did the name not come? I thought that the ritual was successful ...' said Harry after a short uncomfortable pause

'The name appeared,' said Grimjaw, 'but not in the way we were expecting.' With that he handed the roll of parchment to Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and slowly opened the now six feet long roll of parchment and spread it across Gornuk's expansive desk. Squinting at the tiny writing filled to the brim with names and lines detailing his family history, he looked at the end of it and sure enough, saw his godfather's name just below James Potter.

Then he saw what had the goblins worried. Sirius' name wasn't in blue, it was in red. The same colour as that of his parents.

Just as Harry slowly comprehended this fact, he noticed something else that promptly threw him for another loop; just next to and above Sirius' name were the names of his brother, cousin sisters, and their families. Add to that were the names of Sirius' ancestors as well. Some of which Harry remembered to have seen on the tapestry in Number 12.

'What does this mean?' said Harry tentatively, mesmerised by the names of the Black Family written there.

A short pause later, Gornuk said slowly, 'We think that this means that somehow, in some inexplicable way, you are now truly as much a Black as well as a Potter.'

'Huh?' said Harry eloquently, looking up from the name Alphard Black to stare at the goblins in confusion, 'What do you mean?'

'Well, as far as your family tree is concerned, you are not adopted but born a Black. How this happened I do not know, but the results are better than expected.'

Well, thought Harry, looks like Sirius is actually my father in all sense of the word. Pulling himself together quicker than before, Harry said, 'So does this change anything besides the obvious?'

'Yes, normally if the head of an Ancient and Noble House was adopted, then he would only have authority over members of the house who are in his generation and after and additionally cannot claim to be related to any siblings of his adopted sire unless acknowledged by them first. For example, if the ritual had gone as expected, you would only have authority over Draco Malfoy, and that would be limited since he is a scion of the House of Malfoy. However, taking in the, ah, enhanced nature of the results of this ritual, you have full authority over all the members of your house. Also, you can claim full relationship over any of his siblings. Of whom the only surviving ones are-'

'-Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange and Andromeda Tonks' interrupted Harry in a faint voice.

'Yes, though they would be Aunt Narcissa and Aunt Bellatrix to you.' said Grimjaw with amusement colouring his voice. 'As for Andromeda Tonks nee Black, well, she would only be Aunt Andromeda to you if you were to overturn her banishment and restore her status in the Black Family. Right now she and her family are persona non grata in the family.' He said after giving it some thought.

In his excitement and happiness over being considered Sirius' son, Harry really hadn't given much thought over the family he was going to be getting as well. Now, the full ramifications of his choice hit him. Not that he would change anything, but still ... he looked at the family tree again, 'this cannot be right. According to the tree Andromeda, Narcissa and Bellatrix are cousins of Sirius'. So they would be my second cousins, not my aunts,' he said hopefully.

'Unfortunately Mr. Potter-Black, in wizarding culture your parents' first cousins are considered your aunts and uncles just like any of your parents' siblings. Thus they are still Aunt Narcissa and Aunt Bellatrix to you.' Harry sighed in resignation at that, it looked like he had no choice, for better or worse Bellatrix was now his aunt.

Pulling himself together and promising to deal with the whole thing later, Harry said, 'What kind of authority would I have over them?'

'That can only be explained to you once you become the head,' said Grimjaw.

'And how would I go about doing that?' Harry inquired.

'According to the instructions left by previous heads of both the families, after eleven months and two weeks of being declared an adult, the heir gains partial headship. This basically means that they can make decisions concerning the family. We have gone through your records and have found that you have been all but declared an adult as far as the Ministry is concerned last year on the Second of August when the Wizengamot was forced by the former minister to try you as an adult on the Twelfth of the same month. Thus you should be able to claim partial headship of both your houses. We apologise for the delay, but we were only able to obtain your records yesterday with great difficulty. It seemed that the former minister was quite bent on hiding any and all records of that trial.'

Harry took some time to digest this piece of information. Fudge's failed plan to expel him had been advantageous for Harry after all! He only wished he knew of that fact earlier. Then he could have forced the Ministry to treat him as an adult.

Oh well, no use crying over spilled potion. And it wasn't as if that twit could do anything about it as he had just recently been replaced (much to Harry's immense satisfaction) by Amelia Bones who had won the office by a landslide. The main reason for her new found popularity being that apparently upon receiving the tip from the "anonymous source" she had proceeded to set an ambush using some of her most trusted Aurors. In the resulting conflict, five Werewolves had been killed and it was rumoured that their leader, the notorious Fenrir Greyback had been defeated personally by Amelia herself.

With a shake of his head, Harry brought his mind back to the matter at hand, 'So what does partial headship entail, and when will I be able to get full headship?'

'As I mentioned earlier, partial headship means that you can make decisions pertaining only to the family itself. For example, you can now make major decisions regarding your finances. Full headship is obtained only three years from the date of claiming partial headship. In your case that will be today in the year Two thousand and five if you so choose to claim partial headship now. On that date, you will be able to claim your titles of Earl of Potter and Baron Black and will be able to claim your seats in the Wizengamot.'

Grimjaw and Gornuk then placed two ornate wooden boxes in front of Harry embroidered with the crests of the Potter and the Black families. As Harry reached his hand out towards the boxes, the lids melted away to reveal the rings within. Harry gazed upon the ornate rings of both the houses he would soon be head of.

Harry picked up the Potter Ring; it was large, made of Platinum with the Potter crest engraved into a large clear blue diamond seamlessly set into the ring by what could only be a serious piece of magic, 'I, Harry James Potter-Black, heir of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter do solemnly swear to uphold the values and traditions of my family. With this ring I acknowledge my responsibilities to the family and its members. As its head this family will flourish and grow under my hand; this I swear, so mote it be.' Maybe it was the ring or some other mysterious force, for instinct guided Harry to utter those words as he put the ring on his right ring finger. The ring flashed a bright gold before resizing to fit Harry's finger, leaving Harry with a sense of belonging and an influx of knowledge of his family properties.

Recovering from that quickly, Harry took the Black Ring; it was just as large as the Potter Ring but made of white gold with the Black Crest engraved in white into a large, clear Black Diamond set into the ring. Harry followed the same strange instinct and roughly repeated the oath before placing that ring on his right pointer finger.

The ring flashed bright silver before resizing as well. This time however, Harry also got an influx of knowledge of the state of health of the other recognised members of the Black Family; namely his three aunts and one cousin, with a distant echo of his uncles by marriage.

'Now, to answer your previous question,' said Grimjaw, 'since you are the full heir, and now the Head of your house, you will be responsible for all the female members of your family. Even though they are married and grown, they still owe their fealty and allegiance to you. Should you choose to disown them, they and their offspring will no longer be considered Blacks and will be known as Blood traitors, and as such will lose all prestige and honour. Understandably this is a very serious decision to take and should not be made lightly. In fact the last time a person was disowned was around a century back. Heads of houses normally banish family members, allowing them to at least keep their names while not being acknowledged by the family.'

Immediately Harry's mind went to Narcissa and Draco. Harry imagined the look on Draco's face should he be told that he and his mother were no longer considered Blacks but Blood traitors. Unbidden a voice in Harry's head asked him if it was something Narcissa deserved. Was it right to make a woman suffer just because of a grudge held against her son? She hadn't done anything to Harry after all. Any and all interactions with the Slytherin were nothing but petty arguments. No, Harry decided, there would be no point in disowning Narcissa just because Draco was an arse. However-

'What do I need to do to disown somebody in the family for their betrayal, and can I reinstate a previously disowned person back into the family? If so, how do I do that?'

'Who would you want to disown and why?' asked Grimjaw while fixing Harry an unreadable look.

'Bellatrix Lestrange,' spat Harry, taking a deep breath he continued in a normal voice, 'as to the why, well, I think killing the previous head of house is reason enough.'

Grimjaw seemed to nod in satisfaction, 'Very well, Mr. Potter-Black, to do that you will have to press the Black family ring on a piece of parchment and say ego exheres, followed by her name while thinking of the reason.' He handed a blank piece of ordinary parchment.

Harry pressed the ring into the parchment and said, 'ego exheres Bellatrix Lestrange.' Immediately a long paragraph in Latin appeared on the blank piece of parchment. Harry could make out his signature at the bottom. Grimjaw took the parchment and said, 'Very well, it has been done. From now on, the woman formerly known as Bellatrix Lestrange is considered a blood traitor for the murder of Sirius Black, the previous head of her house. All possessions in her name shall be moved to the Black Family vault.' Looking at Harry he said, 'As of now, her location is unknown, so Gringotts is unable to notify her of her change in status. Rest assured, Mr. Potter-Black, we shall notify her and her husband as soon as we find her. It will be up to her husband if she is to still be considered a Lestrange by marriage or not.'

Harry could also confirm that fact since he suddenly felt a loss of connection with one aunt and one uncle. He figured that they would be Bellatrix and her husband.

'What about-'

'-Andromeda Tonks? Well, we have with us a formal application submitted to the previous Lord Black to be reintegrated within the family as well as have her daughter recognised as a Black in accordance to custom. However, Lord Black lamentably passed away unable to sign the document giving his consent. As the current head, it is within your power to complete your father's wishes. Unfortunately, I cannot locate the documents right now as we did not anticipate the ritual giving out these impressive results.'

'Does it change anything else?' Asked Harry

'Well, now that you are the full heir, it also means that any marriage contracts made by your, er, new ancestors will be still active and applicable to you,'

'Marriage contracts?' Harry's voice came out as a squeak to his embarrassment.

'Yes Mr. Potter-Black, marriage contracts,' said a very amused Gornuk.

'So far the Potter family has no outstanding marriage contracts. However, we do not know if there are any in the Blacks. The file had been closed upon your father's passing. Unfortunately considering recent events, we will have to reopen that file. We shall know for certain in three days at the most,' continued Grimjaw with a hint of frustration.

Harry soon got over his shock and said, 'very well, then shall we meet in, say, two days time?' he said, tiredly rubbing his nose.

'It would be for the best,' said Gornuk.

'Then it's settled then.' Said Harry rising, followed by the goblins.

'One other thing, Mr. Potter-Black, said Gornuk, 'Since your mother is a Muggleborn, there is a chance she could have had a squib ancestor. If you wish, we could carry out a full heritage test to see if you can lay claim to any other family.'

'Isn't all that information shown in that parchment?' Harry said, nodding at the document in front of them.

'Not really, this parchment shows your magical ancestry. The limitation of this test is that it cannot detect Muggle or squib ancestors, as they do not have enough magic in them for the test. You could be a direct descendant of Merlin for all you know, but it wouldn't show up here. The test we are suggesting will examine your magic. It is a bit more in-depth and will take about a day. It will also cost you a thousand Galleons and we cannot guarantee satisfaction,' said Grimjaw.

Harry pondered on it for a moment before giving his assent. Gornuk then called for another goblin who rushed out of the office after receiving instructions in Gobbledegook only to return with a strange looking instrument. Gornuk then used this instrument to draw a litre of Harry's blood. He then sent the slightly dizzy wizard off on his way after giving him a blood replenishing potion.

Harry walked down Diagon Alley in daze. Quickly Apparating to his room, he collapsed on his bed, thinking about all the information that he had just learnt. Especially in regards to who he was related to.

This is just great he thought sarcastically as the full irony of the situation hit him. I have one aunt, one uncle and one cousin who are magic hating bigots on my mother's side, and one uncle, aunt and cousin on my new father's side who are Muggle hating bigots. Come to think of it, both the families are blond. Family reunions will be so much fun! He snorted; suddenly feeling tired and drained even though it was the middle of the afternoon, yet too restless to sleep. Suddenly coming to a decision, he removed his cloak and Apparated out. He really needed to unwind and badly.

Two days later, he found himself badly wanting a drink or ten. It turned out that the Black family had one still active contract with the Greengrass family. So it looked like he would have to shortly marry Daphne Greengrass. Joy. She was the Ice Queen of Slytherin and rumour had it that her gaze was enough to literally freeze anybody in their tracks. Harry had no idea if it was an actual family trait or just rumours. Oh well, might as well get to know her, with that thought, he made a note to start writing letters to her.

And speaking of Slytherin, it turned out that he had a claim to the Slytherin family as well. Somehow, he was related to a family called the Gaunts. Fortunately, he did not see Tom's name there, or he really would be having some issues. The only Gaunt he had a magical connection of sorts to was a Morag Gaunt who had lived roughly five centuries ago. Harry supposed that he was the last magical Gaunt and had subsequently sired a squib which then mixed with Muggles before the magic resurfaced in his mother.

At any rate, he didn't know what had happened to the Slytherin family fortune, properties or titles, though he had a good idea. According to the goblins, the Slytherins were a paranoid bunch, and had stowed all their valuables in a secret chamber. Harry had a really good idea where that was. It looked like he would have to pay another visit to a certain Chamber when he went back to school.

And speaking of the founders, he also had fulfilled another condition to becoming the Earl of Gryffindor. The Potters were the only remaining descendants of Gryffindor by marriage. The last Earl had given his Potter grandson the task of finding Godric's legendary sword which he had hidden. The reward being that if he found it, the title would be passed on to the lad on his twenty-sixth birthday. Well, long story short, that hadn't happened. Until Harry's second year that is. Now all Harry had to do was claim the sword and on the day he turned twenty six, the title would be his. The only thing he would be gaining there would be the seat and title. Everything else had been annexed into the Potter family.

Another less earth shattering yet weird revelation that had left Harry unsettled was when he had gone to look at the Black Family vaults. He had seen a cup which Gornuk claimed was Hufflepuff's Cup and was formerly in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault. The weird thing was that the reaction Harry had when clapping eyes on it:

He was standing over an obese woman wearing a ginger wig with overly powdered cheeks. He savoured the look of disbelief, betrayal and fear in the woman's face before raising his wand. A jet of green light then lanced from his wand into her chest, causing her to crumple to the ground. He then pointed his wand to the cup and felt an excruciating pain in his chest.

The Vision had stopped there, bringing Harry back to reality clutching his chest where he could still feel a phantom pain near his heart. He didn't know what to make of that vision or the Cup and so decided to shelve it for the moment. He did have other things to take care of at the moment.

He had decided to leave both Gornuk and Grimjaw in charge of the Potter and Black investments respectively. It would be easier to maintain and the goblins didn't mind sharing.

Another thing was giving his staff of house-elves work. Of the Potter elves, only four were remaining and they were just barely managing to keep the Potter ancestral home and the townhouses in a liveable condition. The plantations were being looked after by small magical families that owed the Potters their fealty while the holiday homes were under stasis charms. In the end, after talking to the head of the Potter elves, a dignified and cultured elf by the name of (to Harry's eternal gratitude) Randolph, it was decided that an addition of two of Harry's newly employed elves was more than enough to take care of things.

The Black family elves were worse off. The only elf remaining there was Kreacher, and the thing had gone round the bend. A few sharp orders from Harry had straightened out the sulky elf (though he still gave his new master filthy looks every now and then). So while the elf was still cursing Harry's name and muttering (loudly) to himself incredulously about how Harry was a Black, he was now functioning normally.

The elf had been effectively shut up when Harry had managed to insert his name in the Black Family Tapestry along with his new cousin, Nymphadora Tonks when he had gone to visit Grimmauld Place to do so in accordance to custom along with a surprised and somewhat shocked Andromeda and Nymphadora Tonks (he had sworn them to secrecy after that of course). What had fully convinced the elf (much to its chagrin) was that Harry had also managed to restore Sirius', Alphard's and Andromeda's names back onto the tapestry. Only the head and a true Black could do that.

Harry had enlisted the remaining five elves to cleaning Grimmauld Place, Black Castle and the Manor in Fairy's Glen with them also reporting to Randolph who was the senior most (not to mention the most sane) house-elf. The house-elves really had their work cut out for them and couldn't be happier.

All in all, Harry was really looking forward to going back to his room and then heading out for the day. He had finally gotten tired of hanging around Little Whinging quite some time back and didn't want to risk Diagon Alley again. So, he had taken to going out to different cities.

So far he had been to Leeds in Yorkshire, where he had enjoyed the nightlife there, using his Legilimency based abilities to get inside the myriad of nightclubs in the city. He really was looking forward to going back there to meet this twenty one year old girl he had met in this club called The Subculture and had subsequently gone club hopping with. He had somehow managed to convince her that he was a twenty something year old hotshot executive in a large company. If he played his cards right, she definitely would be his first one! After that, he might think of going to London, Edinburgh or Newcastle.

So it really did kill his mood when he saw the letter addressed to him in Dumbledore's handwriting stating that the old man would be coming over to pick him up in five days.

And here's chapter nine!

My usual thanks to the people who like the story ... and a special one to my friends for helping me out (you know who you are!)

Oh, random fact (if you are interested); The Subculture is an actual place in Leeds. Highly recommended for metal enthusiasts.

9. Dumbledore and Slughorn

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had been having a very eventful month so far. The very day after Voldemort's continued existence and non-dead status had been revealed to the general public in such a spectacular fashion, he had seen a return of Fudge's personal owl that had been bought by the Minister specifically for letters to Albus a week after Fudge had gotten the position.

While he was happy to see that Fudge hadn't killed or sold the owl to spite him (he was rather fond of it and had even given it the nickname "Bumble"), he wasn't as happy with the letters that came with the owl. After spending one gruelling day at the Ministry questioning the captured Death Eaters, he had managed to stave off further inquests and summons from the Minister using his Headmaster's duties as an excuse. All he had to do was mention the havoc wreaked by Dolores Umbridge, and Fudge was more than willing to shut his mouth.

That didn't stop Fudge from contacting Dumbledore at the earliest possible time however. For the steam from the departing Hogwarts express had barely dissipated from Hogsmeade station when he spotted Bumble winging his way towards him. Were he a lesser man, or in the privacy of his office, Albus would have actually sighed in resignation and a bit of annoyance. It was almost as if the bumbling fool had instructed the owl to wait till that moment to send a letter to him. Nevertheless, Albus had managed to hide his reaction upon spotting the owl. Though he was sure that Minerva and Severus weren't fooled, if the small smirk on Severus' face and the barely concealed humour on Minerva's was any indication.

That letter had been the start of many other letters from Fudge asking Albus for advice. Advice about how to deal with the public, the press, the Wizengamot, the employees at the ministry, furious parents who had started sending howlers complaining about Umbridge and the abuse their charges had suffered under her reign as "Headmistress" and last and most importantly (to Fudge at least), how to keep his post as Minister.

By the end of the first week into the summer, Albus had started developing an eye twitch at the very mention of Cornelius Fudge and found himself trying to control the urge to hex the stupid Minister's stupid owl.

Could that man ever function without explicit instructions? Albus snorted to himself at that thought. From what he could remember of Cornelius during his time at Hogwarts, the boy was regularly seen sending out missives almost every day. He probably needed instructions on going to the loo as well! He shook his head in disappointment, Hiram Fudge was a really brilliant wizard, and he would be turning in his grave now looking at his son and how far the Fudge name has fallen.

He had nearly followed through on his urges of hexing the owl when he got a letter from Fudge detailing his latest brilliant idea to use Harry Potter to help keep his position as Minister and requesting an audience with the boy.

Of course, the first time Albus had read that letter, he had nearly burst out laughing. Fudge, it seemed, had either hired a new secretary who really wasn't well versed in the English Language, or the Minister was getting desperate; after all, the flattery was extremely blatant even by Fudge's standards!

What was even more amusing was that the Minister actually had the hope that Harry would cooperate with him! Albus knew enough about teenagers (considering that he had been dealing with them for more years than he would care to count) to know that the boy would definitely be holding a major grudge against the Minister, and no amount of bribery or flattery would ever be able to sway him.

For one whole minute, a rather vindictive part of Albus actually wanted to grant the Minister his wish. The resulting meeting would certainly be entertaining to watch. In his estimation, it would certainly be on par with that Muggle play he had seen a long time back for his Muggle Studies project. Albus didn't remember the details, but it did involve a lot of magical animals.

Of course, his mood soured rather quickly when he remembered the events that had lead to the grand unveiling of the truth, more specifically the death of Sirius Black.

Sirius was not only a valuable fighter, but also rather dear to Albus. While he had many favourites over his long career as an educator (not that he would admit to having any favourites at all), Sirius was one of the two Albus held dear (Harry being the other one). Despite his arrogance, recklessness and occasional cruelty, Sirius had turned out to have a good head on his shoulders. It was even more astounding considering the reputation the Blacks had for being a Dark Family.

Albus was sincerely glad when he had found out that Sirius was innocent all along. He was also saddened that he never had the chance to make up with the younger man for not believing him or holding a trial for him. He knew that Sirius still had a grudge against him and hadn't yet forgiven him for that. The least he could do now was clear Sirius' name so that his memory could be honoured.

That feat had been ridiculously easy to manage. When questioning the Death Eaters captured in the Ministry, Fudge had tried to ascertain that he had actually seen Voldemort and not someone impersonating the evil man. So he had asked each and every one of the eleven Death Eaters under Veritaserum if it was actually Voldemort and not, say, Sirius Black dressed as Voldemort. That question had not only confirmed Sirius' innocence and Pettigrew's continued existence, but had actually managed to inflict a tone of incredulity and hilarity into voices of the drugged Death Eaters.

In fact, Albus had it on good authority that the Unspeakables who were present at the interrogation had actually started to research that in collaboration with some Potions Masters. Of course, Fudge had kept the whole thing quiet; the public had no clue about Sirius' innocence.

Sirius' death had naturally turned Albus' thoughts towards Harry Potter. And nowadays, thoughts of the boy almost always would depress him. He had made so many mistakes in regards to the boy.

The first and the biggest mistake had been putting him with those reprehensible sorry excuses for human beings. Albus never would've suspected that Petunia could be so vindictive, hateful and petty that she would treat an innocent child like that.

Normally he would have removed Harry immediately and raised him himself if he couldn't find anybody else suitable. Unfortunately, that wasn't possible. For better or worse, Harry was safest there. So far, there had been three failed attempts at kidnapping the boy by fanatic Death Eaters who had managed to escape justice. The blood wards there had ensured their capture as well.

While he knew that Harry would now be able to take care of himself and could be hidden in an appropriately warded and guarded house like any one of the Potter properties he knew existed and heard a lot about, he still felt the need to send Harry to the Dursleys for the summer. Not for Harry's protection, but for theirs. The Dursleys might be reprehensible, and they might be the type of Muggles the Death Eaters would use as an example to justify their actions, but they were human beings nonetheless. Albus couldn't in good conscience allow them to fall at the hands of the Death Eaters when he could prevent it. Of course, he couldn't tell Harry that, for he was sure that the boy would resent him for that and do something foolish like run away. He hoped that the threats some of the Order members had given as he had instructed would make Harry's stay there easier.

But, at the same time, nobody should have been put through that and Albus never felt more ashamed of himself for knowingly putting a child in that situation. At least with Tom he truly hadn't known that the child had been bullied in the orphanage before gaining enough control of his magic to stave off the bullies in his orphanage. Nor did he know that Tom still had occasional problems with some of the older kids till the end of his fourth year.

In an effort to make up for all of that, and to ensure that Harry Potter didn't turn out to be another more powerful version of Tom Riddle (and Albus knew that the boy had far more magical potential than Voldemort) the aged headmaster had tried to give Harry as much love as possible. To that end, he had allowed so much leeway as far as the boy was concerned, even going so far as to bend the rules regarding First Years and brooms.

It was also the reason why he had sent Hagrid to collect the boy. The kindly half-giant would've definitely gone all the way to show Harry some amount of love and be the child's friend.

Albus had also gone ahead and helped introduce Harry to the Weasleys. He knew that Molly Weasley would ensure that Harry would get all of the love and attention that had been denied him those first ten dark years at his aunt's place as well as take care of Hagrid's unintended oversight in not telling the boy about the entrance to the platform.

While the idea of putting Harry up with the Weasleys was a good one, it came with its own flaws. Ron Weasley was by far the most uninspired and lazy boy Albus had the misfortune to meet. His laziness was actually contagious to the point that even he felt apathetic and lazy just by looking at the boy! And Harry being so vulnerable and unused to having or making friends had followed the youngest Weasley boy's footsteps in a way to appease him.

The addition of Hermione Granger to Harry's life had made things even worse. The girl was too bossy, competitive and secure in the superiority of her knowledge and opinions for her own good. In fact, she was the type of Muggleborn the Dark Families used as justification for their beliefs. The only people who could tolerate her were Harry and Ron (as he had to call him, since "Mr. Weasley" applied to seven of the Weasley children), and the latter only did so because of the former. Albus was also pretty sure that even the other Muggleborns in the school hated her. All in all, with her current attitude, he did not see her ever realising her dream of becoming Head Girl.

Why Harry couldn't become friends with someone sensible like Neville Longbottom was beyond him. The boy certainly had better table manners than Ron Weasley. Albus shuddered at that; he really admired the fortitude of the rest of Gryffindor house. Because nothing was more nauseating than sitting next to a person masticate while they talked to you, or being in the general vicinity of a person who insisted in masticating with their mouths open. The sounds you could hear from an openly chewing mouth ... he nearly lost his dinner thinking about it. Molly really should work on the boy's manners.

Hopefully, mentioning the prophecy and the similarity he had with young Mr. Longbottom would be enough of a catalyst in ensuring that Harry befriended the boy.

Looking back on it, he should have told the boy the first time about the prophecy or done something to inspire the lad to learn or train by himself. While Albus wouldn't have minded training him, he really wasn't a miracle worker.

How could he hope to bring an Eleven year old kid to the level of a Dark Lord who is more than Seventy years old? Especially when the same child wasn't willing to apply himself to his maximum potential?

The only thing he could hope to do was find a way to exploit the "power he knows not" as the prophecy stated. And the only thing that fit the criteria in relation to Voldemort was Harry's capacity to love.

How can you possibly train that?

Even making Ronald Weasley a prefect had failed in instilling any responsibility on the redheaded boy (a fact that Minerva had pointed out time and time again) Ron had also completely failed in looking out for Harry in school.

Albus hoped that inducting both him and Miss Granger as junior members of the Order this summer would somehow awaken a sense of duty and responsibility in both of them. He also hoped that Ms. Granger would finally get a hint and help Ron in that endeavour or at least take up the initiative herself. Then again, it seemed that the girl needed instructions in a text book on how to breathe, so he didn't have his hopes up. It seemed that Albus would need to actually tell her. At least the girl was smart enough that he wouldn't have to resort to being completely direct. Ah, kids these days, why couldn't they understand subtle prodding?

As an added incentive, he had started paying them from his own vault (secretly of course, wouldn't want the other members of the Order to start getting resentful about that) to ensure their services. It wasn't as if he would need the money anymore.

Molly, especially, would have to be kept in the dark; he didn't want her to know that he was supplying her son with more money. If she ever found out, he was sure that the woman's voice would reach such a high pitch and frequency that it would be capable of driving banshees away and rendering him deaf. She already had a hard time accepting the small sum Albus had set aside for her thanks to that damnable Prewitt pride of hers and he knew that it was only because of who and what he was to her that she had accepted the money. The points he had raised had also done a lot towards convincing her.

Albus really hated to see such a good family be so encumbered by something as petty and transient as a lack of adequate wealth. Besides, the Prewitts had given a lot of themselves in the last war, loosing much of their moderate wealth and properties (not to mention their male heirs, all but making the Prewitt line extinct) that the last of the Prewitts deserved some compensation. And taking care of seven children with an additional eighth later on did require funds. Especially when they had the task of showing the aforementioned eighth child some much needed fun in life; those Quidditch tickets weren't exactly free after all. He wondered how they managed to explain that away to Harry...

Albus raised his right hand and idly examined the cursed appendage. It really saddened him to know that Tom had gone to such depravity in order to ensure his immortality. As his eyes settled upon the stone set into the ugly ring on his finger, Albus cursed himself for his stupidity. He should've known that there was going to be a curse placed on that ring, but finally chancing upon the one Hallow he had been looking for all his life had eroded all of his good sense.

He should have died the moment he put that ring on. It was only through sheer willpower and the Elder Wand that Albus had managed to survive long enough to avail Severus' help. That would ensure that he lived long enough to see the end of the next school year. Though he wasn't too hopeful; from what Severus had told him, Tom had given Draco the task of assassinating him in an effort to punish Lucius Malfoy. It would seem that he would have to sacrifice his life by the end of this academic year to ensure the young man's wellbeing. Thankfully the boy hadn't been marked yet. Though he feared what would happen should Mr. Malfoy finally succeed.

Worse still was that Narcissa had somehow managed to get Severus to swear an Unbreakable Vow to help the boy complete the task Voldemort had set for him. Oh well, better to die on your own two feet by an Avada Kedavra than by spending the last few days of your life in the Hospital Wing fighting an incurable curse that might make Voldemort suspicious about the state of his Horcruxes. At least this way, he had the opportunity of saving two young lives. That oath gave him the added benefit of being able to bully Severus into giving him an honourable death. Why Severus was being such a girl over it was beyond him. He was dying anyway!

And speaking of which, there really hadn't been much in the way of attacks. From what Severus had told him, Voldemort's failed attempt at possession had severely weakened the Dark Lord. The only people who were permitted to see him were Severus, Bellatrix and Peter. As far as the average Death Eater was concerned, Tom was planning something big and was waiting for the best time to strike.

However, that didn't mean he wasn't active; he had, through Bellatrix, orchestrated a rash of Death Eater attacks on Muggles within a week after being exposed. Destroying a lot of property and ending many lives. Unfortunately Tom had not informed Snape of any of the attacks, as he had relied on Bellatrix to announce and occasionally take part in the attacks so Albus was caught as unawares as the Ministry about any attack. Not that he would be able to use the information, as it would put suspicion on Snape almost immediately. And Muggle lives, no matter how many weren't worth his only spy in Tom's ranks. Sacrifices would have to be made to ensure Tom's downfall. After all, as Gellert used to say, 'Zum Gröβeren Nutzen.'

At least the Order was able to thwart one of Tom's plans without risking Severus. It was indeed fortunate that young Miss Bones and her friend had managed to overhear that conversation between two Death Eaters without being caught and had told Nymphadora immediately. Amelia Bones as Minister would make it much harder for Tom to undermine the Ministry. She, unlike Scrimgeour, had a good head on her shoulders and would think before acting. Also, not much would get past her so infiltrating the Ministry wouldn't be that easy. She had also managed to appease the Muggle Prime Minister for the moment. Though he was still wary about her intentions in meeting Harry; what could she possibly want with the boy?

Another thing that had gone wrong for Tom had been Ollivander. None of the Death Eaters had been able to get past the old wand maker's wards. To say that Tom had been angry at both the failures would be an understatement. And the fact that Ollivander was still open and the only people that couldn't get in were his Death Eaters, assassins or mercenaries while any other wizard, witch or child could hadn't really helped improve the Dark Lord's temper that much either. He had immediately killed the poor recruit that had informed him of that.

Eventually Tom had been forced to give up on getting the wand maker when he found out that Ollivander's wards were capable of removing even the strongest of Imperius curses. Though Albus did not get his hopes up too high; Tom had always been persistent when it came to things he wanted

Unfortunately not all of Tom's endeavours had been a complete failure. He still managed to inspire terror in the wizarding community by carrying out a successful raid on Florean Fortescue's shop. There was no trace of Florean and Dumbledore hoped that his former classmate was still alive. Florean's family was still alive and had subsequently fled the country for the moment.

Another tragedy was the assassination of Emmiline Vance. She was a very talented witch, and an important member of the Order. Her loss would be deeply felt.

Albus pulled out his watch and noted the time. He would have to leave now if he wanted to be on time to pick Harry up. They would be taking a stop at his old colleague's current location. He hoped to convince Horace to return to teaching.

Like Albus, Horace knew a lot about the Dark Arts, and Tom had been unusually close to the man during his time at Hogwarts. So he would know or at least have a clue as to how many Horcruxes Tom had planned to make or had already made.

Harry was the one card he could use to guarantee Horace's return. The man wouldn't be able to resist being close to, and mentoring the Boy-Who-Lived. While Albus abhorred using others for his own means, he had no choice in the matter. He had to get Horace close to him so he could confirm his suspicions about Tom's Horcruxes. That memory he had been given last year when he was "on the run" from the Ministry as it were (as if they could catch him) was an obvious fake now that he had gotten the time to view it.

The man had immediately disappeared as Dumbledore expected and it was only now that Albus had managed to track him down.

As Albus reached the front gates, he cast a powerful disillusionment charm, actually rendering him invisible. Turning on his heel he disappeared with a whisper.

Reappearing at Privet Drive, he took a moment to survey the street and neatly organised houses slightly uncomfortably before taking his Deluminator out. This was one of his inventions; something he and Aberforth had come up with when they were young and innocent. He still kept it to remind himself of the times when he and Aberforth used to get along and do things together like real brothers. Before things had gone so wrong...

Shaking his head, he clicked the Deluminator, slowly and steadily putting off every light in the street. Once the street was dark, he removed the charm he had placed on himself. While the Wand helped in magnifying his already impressive powers, he still needed to conserve his magical energy. Especially because of the curse placed on him.

Stepping up to Number Four, he rang the doorbell, secretly delighted at using such a quaint muggle invention. Wizards technically didn't need to knock as the wards were enough to alert the owners of a house of the arrival of a visitor. Of course, one always knocked; it was the polite thing to do. And in these times, it didn't hurt to be too cautious.

The door opened to reveal the person he had come to collect. Though as he stepped into the hallway, he noticed a lot of changes had been wrought on the boy. Gone was the small and slightly undernourished teenager dressed in over-large clothes; in its place was a tall slim and athletic looking young lad tastefully dressed in clothes that fit him. His eyes, no longer behind those thick glasses were a faint luminescent green showcasing the awesome magical power he held at his fingertips. He also noted that the boy had grown quite a bit over the summer and was now almost as tall as he was.

Albus took a moment to study his face; what little youthful roundness that was there had vanished leaving a haughty and aristocratic face with heavy eyelids and a straight nose. His medium length black hair previously untameable was now falling elegantly over his eyes even though it was still a bit messy. Dumbledore knew that Harry would be attracting a lot of attention with his new looks. He also no longer looked like a carbon copy of James Potter, although some features of his face reminded Albus of somebody (he couldn't say who exactly). As Harry shifted, those thoughts left him as he noted the diamond stud glittering on Harry's left earlobe in surprise.

'Good evening Harry, I hope I find you in good health?' Casting his eyes around the house, he said, 'might I inquire about the whereabouts of your relatives?'

'Good evening sir, it's good to see you too,' said Harry, his voice now a smooth baritone, 'They left the house this morning to Aunt Marge's house and won't be back till the next week.'

'Ah, I see. Did this have anything to do with the news about my impeding arrival?'

'Well, they did seem eager on leaving when I told them about you visiting shortly sir,' said Harry with a hint of dark humour in his voice.

'Alas, I was hoping they were around. I wanted to have a few words with them,' said Dumbledore absently.

Harry didn't mention that he had managed to knock all three of his relatives out with a lovely spell he had found in Curses and Counter Curses. It simulated being hit over the head with a pan and was far more powerful than the version Malfoy had used on him in Second Year. Needless to say, the each of the Dursleys will be waking up with a killer headache the next morning. Especially Aunt Petunia (he had taken special care to ensure that she had a more than adequate experience of that sensation, using repetition as his main technique).

Harry excused himself for a moment to get his things. He had already gotten his trunk packed this morning and gotten Dobby to restore the room back to its original condition. Harry had recently gained a new appreciation for the little elf. He had managed to heal the piercing Harry had gotten in his ear a few days back in a matter of minutes. Of course, by that time, Harry swore never to listen to pretty girls again. He still wasn't sure that the stud made him look "sexy". Personally he felt like a chav. The end result had certainly been worth it; he had lost his virginity to her after all. Besides, Bill had an earring too, so it couldn't be all that bad. At least he had been able to get a proper diamond and white-gold stud. It really did sparkle nicely...

Harry picked up his new multi-compartment trunk (another impulse buy) with its inbuilt feather-light charm as well as Hedwig's empty cage. The owl couldn't have flown out of there faster upon hearing that she may be transported via portkey.

Getting down, Harry could just hear Dumbledore putting on the finishing touches on a howler he had made for the Dursleys detailing the number of ways they had failed their nephew and what terrible parents they were.

Harry rolled his eyes. The man really needed to work on his timing. He was fifteen years eight months one week and an hour too late as far as Harry was concerned (not that he was counting). And it wasn't as if the Dursleys cared about what Dumbledore had to say. Though, Harry smirked, they would certainly care about the little going away presents he had set for them!

His howler finished, Dumbledore placed it on the dining table and turned towards Harry. 'There is one other matter I want to discuss with you. I think you might want to sit down for this' he said in a kind voice leading Harry to the living room and ushering him onto the sofa there. Sitting down on Vernon's favourite chair and facing Harry, he continued, 'It involves Sirius' will. Now that part is simple enough as he has left everything to you. Meaning that a sizeable chunk of gold has been added to your vault along with the house in Grimmauld Place,' he paused for a while wholly misinterpreting Harry's reaction to that statement.

'The problem is that the Blacks had in all probability put in place protections to ensure that only the next male Black may inherit anything, including the ancestral house. This is why we have temporarily vacated Grimmauld Place to ensure that Narcissa or Bellatrix cannot come in to claim it as Draco would be the next male with Black blood in him as we were not sure if Sirius' request could be fully carried out. Thus, I have thought up a test to see if you have truly inherited the house.'

Harry barely managed to suppress a triumphant smirk. It seemed that he had managed to one up Dumbledore. Though the lying old twat hadn't once seen fit to inform him about the full extent of his wealth even though now was the perfect opportunity.

'Now I don't want you to worry about the test, it's nothing too onerous,' said Dumbledore again misinterpreting the cause of Harry's grimace. He clicked his fingers and called for Kreacher.

At once the sullen and ancient house-elf appeared in front of Harry. Kreacher hadn't taken kindly to being assisted by other house-elves and it was only after some extensive orders given by Harry that he had kept his cursing and muttering down to a minimum. Otherwise, Harry was sure that the elf would have been throwing a major, violent and deafeningly loud tantrum at the moment. Quickly getting the hint, Harry ordered the elf to shut his mouth with as much venom as possible. He had to keep up appearances after all. Not that it was hard; he did hate the little shit after all.

'Well, now that's settled,' said Dumbledore clapping his hands, 'what do you plan to do with it all?'

Wow, he's actually letting me make my own decisions, thought Harry sarcastically. Schooling his features, he said in a perfectly innocent voice, 'I suppose that the Order could continue using it for the moment. Unless of course you have found a better place...'

'Oh no Harry, Grimmauld Place will be more than adequate,' said Dumbledore looking slightly relieved, I bet he was planning on coercing me otherwise thought Harry darkly.

Turning to Kreacher, Harry said sternly, 'Go back to Grimmauld Place. Watch over the house and see that it's clean. Am I clear?' Seeing the elf nod, Harry smiled, 'Good, dismissed.'

'Was that necessary?' Asked Dumbledore after Kreacher disappeared. He had a sombre expression on his face.

Harry just shrugged. He was unwilling to let his true feelings known. He also found that he was beginning to care less about the headmaster's opinions.

Dumbledore took a moment to look at Harry for a while before getting up, followed by the younger wizard. 'Where are we going and how will we be getting there sir?'

'I will be dropping you off at the Burrow as you know, but first, I wish to make a stop at a house of my former colleague's. I hope to convince him out of retirement to teach for this year at least. As you know, we are one staff member short,' said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling, 'In fact, I think you will be able to properly convince him Harry.'

It didn't take long for Harry to figure out what Dumbledore meant by that statement. It seemed that the person they were going to be visiting was either a fan or a simpering buffoon and Dumbledore wanted to use Harry's status as Boy-Who-Lived (or "the chosen one," as he was known as these days) to get the person to teach. Harry sighed mentally; it looked like he would be having another year of a crappy incompetent Defence teacher. This time, he didn't know if he was in the mood to help train his school mates. He certainly doubted he had the time to teach them anything, considering all the training he planned to be doing in secret.

Dumbledore strode out into the hallway and stood near Harry's trunk. He examined it for a minute and after getting Harry to remove his Invisibility cloak, waved his wand at the trunk and cage making both of them disappear.

'Your possessions are now at the Burrow,' he explained looking at Harry's raised eyebrow.

At least you asked Harry thought sarcastically. He just smiled at Dumbledore in response, making sure to reinforce his Occlumency shields.

'Shall we? We do have a lot to do tonight,' said Dumbledore, seeing Harry agree, he opened the door and ushered the teen outside.

The walk down the street was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Harry did not know what to feel. While he still resented Dumbledore for his meddling, his interactions with the headmaster in the past few years he had been at Hogwarts had instilled a sense of awe in him some of which was still there even though last year had brought with it the realisation that his idol had feet of clay. Harry still couldn't decide if the man truly cared for him or saw him as a weapon or if his placement at the Dursleys was for his protection and not for another more sinister reason.

There was also the fact that he never had a conversation with the headmaster outside Hogwarts before. A desk had always been there between them as well as some formality.

Dumbledore, however, seemed completely relaxed.

'Keep your wand at the ready, Harry,' he said brightly.

'But I thought I wasn't supposed to use magic outside the school, sir?' Harry said putting on a confused look. He did not want to let on that he had been doing magic the past few weeks. Or that he had been using it to get his vengeance on the Dursleys. After all, he was walking next to the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

'If we are ever attacked tonight, I give you full permission to use any counter-jinx or –curse that comes to your mind.' Said Dumbledore, 'However, you will not need to fear an attack at this time.'

'Er, why not, sir?'

'Because you are with me,' Dumbledore said simply, arrogant sod. 'This will do, Harry,'

The duo stopped at the end of Privet Drive. Dumbledore then took out a lighter and with a click, sent balls of light zooming back to the streetlamps, bathing Privet Drive with a sudden orange glare much to Harry's amazement.

Putting the lighter out of the way, Dumbledore turned to Harry and holding out his arm, said, 'I presume that you haven't passed your Apparition test?'

Harry nodded affirmatively, not bothering to mention that while he hadn't been tested, he could still Apparate flawlessly, 'If you would grab hold of my arm Harry, I will take us to our new destination. If you don't mind, I would prefer that it be the left arm as my wand arm is rather fragile at the moment.'

Harry just then noticed the rather dead looking hand in surprise and wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

'Sir- what happened to your-'

'I got complacent. I regret that I cannot tell you the full story at the moment as we do not have enough time. The story is rather exciting, and I promise to tell it to you later on when I can do it full justice. Now if you please?'

Grabbing the proffered arm, Harry was side-Apparated away for the first time. He immediately felt the difference between side-Apparition and doing it on your own. The squeezing sensation was slightly more pronounced causing him a bit of discomfort.

He opened his eyes to find himself in an empty village square, in the centre of which was an old war memorial and a few benches. He spied a nearby sign that indicated that he was in the village of Budleigh Babberton.

'Are you all right?' asked Dumbledore, looking at Harry in the eye, 'The sensation does take some getting used to.' The lad seemed to be surprisingly composed considering that it was his first time. Not for the first time that night he registered that Harry was as tall as he was, and may later outstrip Dumbledore himself in height.

Harry just shrugged, 'It definitely is better than the Floo or Portkey,' he said, 'I cannot wait to learn it myself!' He hoped this covered any suspicions the headmaster may have had at Harry being used Apparition.

Dumbledore smiled, drew his travelling cloak a bit tighter around his neck and said, 'This way.'

He set off at a brisk pace past an empty inn and a few houses. According to a clock on a nearby church, it was nearly midnight.

'So tell me Harry,' said Dumbledore. 'Has your scar been hurting at all?'

'No,' said Harry fingering his scar and if I am right, it won't be happening ever again, he added silently. He glanced back at Dumbledore to see the old wizard was wearing a satisfied expression.

'I thought not,' he said absently. 'Lord Voldemort has finally realised the dangerous access you have been enjoying to his thoughts. His attempt at possessing you has also weakened him significantly, so I imagine that he is employing Occlumency against you.'

Harry just nodded in reply not bothering to tell the old man his suspicions.

They proceeded up a steep narrow street lined with houses. The odd chill that had recently settled over Privet Drive persisted here too reminding Harry of Dementors. His wand hand twitched, as he cast a look over his shoulder, ready at a moment's notice to summon his wand into his hand, half expecting them to pop up at any moment. According to the Prophet, they had recently joined Voldemort's ranks and were now running amok, breeding (Harry did not want to think about how).

'Professor, I saw in the Daily Prophet that Fudge has been sacked ...'

'Correct,' said Dumbledore, 'He has been replaced by Amelia Bones, the former head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

'Is she any good?'

'She is able, most certainly. I doubt that she would underestimate Lord Voldemort. She also is a natural leader and was quite a force in the First Wizarding War.'

'I also read about her attack as well ...'

'Ah yes,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'It was indeed fortunate that her niece overheard that conversation. Otherwise things might have ended differently.'

So Susan kept her promise after all, I hope she is alright ... thought Harry.

They finally came to a sudden stop at the small neat stone house they were approaching. Harry had just noticed the front door hanging off its hinges.

'Wand out and follow me Harry,' said Dumbledore quietly as he moved silently up the garden path.

Harry followed the Headmaster, jerking his wand arm downward and flicking his wrist at the end to bring his wand out of its holster and into his hand. He used the techniques he had learnt from years of sneaking around at Number Four to walk as fast as possible while still staying silent, keeping his knees slightly bent and looking around for possible threats.

In the end, he need not have worried. It seemed that Horace Slughorn (for that was Dumbledore's colleague's name) had been faking the whole thing after all. Harry was a bit irritated at himself that he hadn't noticed the lack of a Dark Mark, but that could not be helped. The man had done a good job in such a short time anyway.

Though curiously, he could somehow sense that the overstuffed armchair lying on its side was actually a wizard pretending and not the real thing.

Slughorn's tactics of hiding in Muggle neighbourhoods in empty houses along with his ingenious (if hasty) illusion that he had thrown up gave Harry the impression of a consummate Slytherin. The hungry look he had given Harry along with his showing off of the many movers and shakers of the wizarding world that he had met and influenced only served to reinforce that image.

Harry played his part perfectly. As soon as Dumbledore excused himself to the loo, he started buttering the man up and extolling the virtues of being at Hogwarts. He played at every weakness he knew the short rotund old man possessed to convince him. He felt a bit dirty doing that and slightly resentful of Dumbledore for using him in such a fashion. But right now he could care less. It was getting late and he wanted to sleep. Besides, if half of Slughorn's stories were true, he would be useful to Harry in the future.

One thing Harry could not help but shake off was the feeling that he knew the man from somewhere. Which was odd seeing as he would have remembered meeting the man before; he did have some distinguishing features after all.

When Dumbledore took that moment to make his entrance, Harry knew that he had succeeded, (if the slight twinkle in his eye was any indication). Harry had the feeling that the crafty old man had been lurking just outside the room listening in and not in the bathroom looking at knitting patterns as he claimed. Harry idly figured that Dumbledore would have been a good Slytherin too. What with the way he had positioned Harry and masterfully taken control of the situation. Because by the time they had left, Slughorn had practically begged for the position (at least as much begging a Slytherin would do).

As Harry grasped Dumbledore's arm again in preparation to being Apparated to the Burrow, he reflected on the strange flashback he had when seeing that ring on Dumbledore's finger when he had briefly displayed it in front of Slughorn.

He was standing over a middle-aged man, looking at the handsome features (so much like his own) contorted in shock, pain and fear. Right behind his victim lay a much older couple, clearly dead. He took a minute to savour the moment before a flash of green light later, the man was just as dead as the elderly couple. This was followed by an intense pain in his chest.

Harry had barely managed to conceal his reactions on seeing the ring. Again, like the cup, he could not tell what that vision meant. Also, this time the pain (while still imaginary) was a bit more pronounced. It had taken all of his willpower not to let a sound escape his lips.

Harry barely paid attention to Dumbledore's heavily veiled attempt at scaring him away from Slughorn. While he didn't really like the man, he did find him likeable enough. For one, his very own mother was a favourite of the professor's. Another plus point was that they both shared a hatred of Umbridge. Slughorn had actually gone on to say that the Centaurs deserved a medal for their assistance in rendering her insane.

So engrossed was he in his thoughts that he almost did not notice that he had been Apparated again to Ottery St. Catchpole. Quickly gathering his wits about him, he followed Dumbledore and let himself be ushered into Mr. Weasley's shed where the interrogation began.

While he was expecting to be grilled about things, it nevertheless irritated him. What business was it of Dumbledore's where he had gotten his new clothes and what he had done to his eyes? What right did he have to ask him about the trunk either?

Harry answered the questions by lying through his teeth. He explained the clothes away as the rewards of a summer job he had gotten in the local bookstore, and the eyes to a Muggle surgery. The trunk's existence was attributed to an owl order form. Harry was a bit surprised that Dumbledore hadn't been asked about his piercing.

Harry made sure to keep his Occlumency shields up and was glad he had done so when he felt the old man trying to invade his thoughts, angering him.

Dumbledore had the good sense to withdraw almost immediately. He figured that Harry had managed to learn some Occlumency after all. It pleased him to know that placing the lad with Severus hadn't been such a bad idea after all. After satiating his curiosity about Harry's mental health and talking to him about some private lessons, he walked the boy to Molly's doorstep.

It seemed to Albus that Harry was finally ready to face his destiny and become a leader, if the way he stood up to him was any indication. Now all that was left to do was to guide and prepare him. It was about time really, he should have told the boy the prophecy five years ago...

Oh well, there was no use crying over spilled potion. After all, things were going as planned.

If you have seen Underworld: Rise of the Lycans, imagine Viktor's glow-in-the-dark blue eyes being green and put them on Harry's face.

For those of you wondering how Harry manages to draw his wand, think Assassin's Creed ... it's the same way Altair and Ezio draw their hidden blades. Only here, Harry has to catch the wand in his hand.

Now a few questions;

1. How many of you guys thought that this was going to be a typical Dumbledore/Weasley/Granger bashing fic before reading this chapter?

2. What do you think now you have read this chapter? Is it still Dumbledore/Weasley/Granger bashing?

and on a completely unrelated note;

3. What is the most annoying song you have ever heard that sticks in your head and plays in your head over and over again in an endless loop the minute you see or hear something even distantly related to the song? And is it in any way more annoying than the one played in Barney the Dinosaur?

Well, review!

10. The Weasleys

Walking towards the Burrow, Dumbledore knocked on the back door with Harry just behind him. Harry could hear a pause on the other side before a voice he knew to be Molly Weasley's asked hesitantly and nervously, 'who's there? Declare yourselves!'

'It is I, Albus Dumbledore, bringing Harry.'

The door immediately opened to show a slightly tired looking Molly Weasley wearing a house coat and a relieved expression on her face.

'Albus, come on in quickly!' As Harry and Dumbledore stepped into the house, Mrs. Weasley noticed Harry.

'Harry! How are you dear?' she hugged him tightly before stepping back to get a good look at him. 'Look at how much you've grown! You are just as bad as Ron. We'll probably have to resize all the doors just so you boys can fit inside,' she looked up to his face with a fond expression.

'I'm fine Mrs. Weasley,' said Harry. Looking into the kitchen, he noticed Tonks sitting at the table, 'Wotcher Tonks.'

'Harry!' The metamorphmagus smiled brilliantly.

'Well, I shall be on my way. I do have important matters to discuss with Amelia after all,' said Dumbledore. He doffed his hat to Mrs. Weasley, and with a 'Goodbye Nymphadora,' to a scowling Tonks, made his way to the edge of the property where he Apparated out.

'I should get going as well Molly,' said Tonks. As she passed by Harry, she whispered a quiet 'Thank you' before walking out of the house. Harry just smiled at her, knowing what she was talking about. The last time they had met, was when he was putting her name into the Black Family Tapestry in Grimmauld Place, she had been rather woebegone. It hadn't taken long to find out what the problem was; Nymphadora Tonks, it seemed, had the biggest crush on one Remus John Lupin. Remus, on the other hand, wasn't returning her affections.

Though Harry knew otherwise; he had corresponded with his father's old friend and had managed to find out that he really did have affections for the much younger witch, but was unwilling to pursue a relationship since he felt it was too dangerous for her to be associated with a known werewolf.

So Harry decided to play matchmaker and told Tonks about it. He also made it a point of mentioning why Remus would want to push any person interested in him in that way away. It seemed that his information had worked, for Tonks no longer looked like somebody had killed her puppy (or in this case wolf cub). Harry had received a letter the very next day from Remus informing him of his new girlfriend. Of course, most of the letter did have quite a rant about how much of a meddlesome little bugger he found Harry, but that wasn't so important. Remus did seem thankful enough. Harry then had a much longer letter from Tonks giving a blow-by-blow account of her talk with Remus.

While Harry didn't fully understand how and why Remus and Tonks had gotten together, or why Tonks was attracted to him, he was still happy for them. They certainly were happy with each other, if the complete change in Tonks was any indication.

'So, Hermione's here?' he asked as he tickled Crookshanks behind the ear after he had jumped on to and settled at his knees.

'Oh yes, she arrived the day before yesterday.'

Harry didn't make much conversation after that, content in just concentrating on finishing his soup. He let Mrs. Weasley do most of the talking, occasionally inserting in a word or two when required.

Twenty minutes later, sleepy and full of soup, Harry slipped into one of the beds in Fred and George's room, falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Glad to be back at The Burrow and among his kind at last.

A few hours later, he awoke fully rested. Glancing at his watch of the day, he noticed that it was pretty early in the morning. Harry quickly got into a pair of running trousers and a t-shirt for his morning jog. Stepping outside into the crisp morning, he started running. The route he had planned would take him around the perimeter of the large garden to the orchard. Entering the orchard, he planned on running its perimeter before getting back to the gate, where, if he could manage it, he would jog along the second half of the back garden ending up back at the house.

As with all plans, this one fell apart almost immediately. Harry had just started running when he heard a cackle. Looking back he noticed that he had drawn the attention of a few garden gnomes who had taken it upon themselves to start chasing him. Harry increased his speed not wanting to be caught by them. Those nasty blighters had a mean bite.

Suddenly getting an idea, he drew his wand, twisted around and started sending stinging hexes at the gnomes while still running. By the time Harry had reached the paddock, he was pretty winded, feeling as if he had run a marathon. The uneven ground coupled with the strangely agile gnomes did pose quite a challenge, though his accuracy was pretty decent; he had hit around seven of the ten gnomes before they had given up on chasing him.

Harry smiled to himself. I hope they try that again tomorrow, he thought. I can use the practise.

Vaulting over the low fence Harry headed into the orchard where after finding a fairly secluded place far enough from the Burrow, he continued his training. A few days back, he had hit a dead end as far as practising new spells was concerned since most of them were either high level spells with a rather noticeable effect or spells that required a human target or at the least a human-like target. After all, one cannot make a tree feel dizzy, while small animals were rather difficult to experiment on since they weren't human and the effects were different.

Additionally, for some reason they seemed to have an urge to dodge any spell sent their way. You'd think they'd stay in place especially after being conjured or transfigured, but noooo. They would insist on behaving just like the real things! And the little buggers were pretty good at it too. In fact, it was only spending so much time casting hexes, jinxes and curses at rabbits that Harry had managed to get so many gnomes. The rabbits were much faster and more nimble than those ugly things.

Because of that, he was restricted to improving his accuracy and speed of the spells that he had learnt before. He was forced to stop that after one of his conjured rabbits escaped his spot and had run into a Muggle child where it had promptly disappeared in front of the startled toddler. He didn't want to take further risks, so he had stuck to stationary targets.

Now that he was in a more secluded spot, far away from any Muggle, he could give himself moving targets. Conjuring a rabbit, he started sending stunners at the thing as fast as he could as the rabbit started dodging and twisting around. He noticed that over time as he got more used at casting spells that he did not require that much in the way of wand movements to successfully cast his spells. He had also noticed that the spells were no longer jets of vibrant light. While the light emitted from them was still there, it had lost some of its body and seemed to be slightly clearer.

At first he was worried about what that could mean, but then he remembered that in their duel, Voldemort and Dumbledore had sent spells that were far clearer in colour compared to the Death Eaters and Order members. In fact, one could say that the spells that came out of their wands were more like ripples of faintly coloured light.

Harry came to the conclusion that greater control in magic resulted in lesser amount of magical energy being wasted as light, giving the spell more power. That theory was further confirmed when the conjured rabbit was blasted quite a distance when hit by the stunner before disappearing. Now that he looked back on it, the gnomes he had managed to hit also were blasted back quite a distance before landing. It looked like his meditative exercises in controlling his magic had paid off. Then again, the creatures were rather small...

Harry had also realised that switching wand hands had produced a better result. Using his left hand felt more natural and comfortable than his right hand. The mystery of that was solved by his Occlumency exercises. When he was much younger, his primary school teacher had taken to "correcting" his left-handedness by rapping his knuckles with a scale every time he used his left hand to write or eat. The Dursleys were more than happy to follow through when they heard about it from Dudley. After all, it did make Harry miserable.

So while Harry had gotten used to being right handed, he was never too comfortable with it. Harry had all but forgotten about that time. Now after going through those memories, he had decided to go back to using his left hand. He had taken some frustration of having that done to him out on Dudley by breaking his right arm now and again rather viciously in his quest of learning how to heal and break bones and intentionally taking time to find a way to heal the break. It was the least that fat lump of lard could do for having snitched on him to his parents. He silently vowed to track down and ensure that his teacher could never use her right arm ever again. It had taken a lot of time practising with his left hand for him to get to the point where his handwriting was no longer illegible. And nothing was more tiresome than having to write lines over and over again in the summer when you aren't required to write any assignments.

Finished for the day, he jogged back to the Burrow. Approaching the back door, he smelt bacon and waffles. Following his nose, he entered the kitchen to find a vision of perfection; a blonde goddess standing at the stove and cooking breakfast.

'Fleur, is that you?'

Fleur Delacour turned around to see a tall handsome and sweaty young man standing at the doorframe. His mop of messy black hair was sticking to his forehead while his vibrant green eyes were looking at her in an expression of surprised happiness.

It took Fleur a few moments to recognise him. ''Arry!' she cried, 'Eet 'as been so long!' Striding up to him she reached up to kiss him on both the cheeks.

'My, you 'ave grown!' She said appreciatively looking at him up and down.

'I guess I'm not a "leetle boy" anymore,' Harry replied with amusement looking down at Fleur who was now a few inches shorter than him.

'Non, you definitely are not a "leetle boy" now.' she said slightly flirtatiously.

Harry blushed slightly at her last remark causing Fleur to smirk. Clearing his throat, he sat down at the table.

'It's a pleasant surprise to see you here Fleur. What have you been doing these days?'

'They 'aven't told you?' Fleur asked incredulously. Before Harry could reply however, Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen.

She started as she saw Harry in the kitchen, evidently not expecting to see him so early in the morning.

'Harry dear, what are you doing up so early? I certainly did not expect you to be up already since you had a rather late night. Are you all right dear? You're all hot and sweaty ... you don't have a fever, do you?' she asked in a motherly manner feeling his forehead with the back of her hand.

'I'm fine Mrs. Weasley,' said Harry shrugging her hand off. 'It's just that I have recently started exercising every morning ever since summer started and now, I am used to waking up early in the morning.'

'Eet is vary good that you 'ave started exercising 'Arry,' Fleur interjected. 'You are looking rather 'andsome. The girls will go wild over you.'

Mrs. Weasley made a disapproving noise at Fleur's remark before turning to Harry. 'Well, it's nice to see that you take your health seriously Harry dear,' she said.

'Thanks Mrs. Weasley.'

Harry turned back to Fleur to ask his original question again. 'By the way, you still didn't tell me how you ended up here of all places.'

Fleur immediately rounded on Mrs. Weasley, 'You did not tell 'im?' Then not giving a shocked and spluttering Mrs. Weasley any chance to defend herself, she turned back on Harry, tossing her head and whipping Mrs. Weasley on the face with her hair in the process.

'William and I are getting married,' she said with a great deal of happiness. 'Of course, you are invited. Gabrielle would love to meet you.'

'Wow, that's great Fleur I am happy for you!' said Harry. He noticed that Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to be too happy about it but didn't say anything. Let them work it out between each other. He had no intention of getting in the middle of a fight between a hot headed short tempered ginger mother of seven equally hot-headed and short tempered ginger children and a girl who could actually throw fire when angry. Bill sure knew how to pick 'em, thought Harry in amusement. At least Charlie could help Bill should he ever find himself on the wrong end of Fleur's temper. I'm sure Charlie knows a lot about the different burn relieving spells, potions and salves from working with those dragons.

Besides, he had his own problems; he had managed to get to know Daphne (as he had been told to call her by her father) a bit over the past few days, and found her to be quite an interesting person. After the initial nerve wracking meeting with Cyrus Greengrass (Daphne's father) discussing the terms of the contract, Harry had been left alone with Daphne for a while so that they could get to know each other.

After the first few minutes of enduring Daphne's ranting who wasn't well pleased in being given away to Harry on a contract made before she was born, the ice had finally broken when she referred to Harry as the "The Gryffindor Golden Boy". Harry, not having been called that to his face before in his life had broken down laughing and, trying to catch his breath, had asked a not-so-amused Daphne if that was the best she could come up with. Eventually her mask cracked as with a small smirk she did admit that it was a pretty silly thing to call him. Though it wasn't too surprising, that term was coined by Draco Malfoy in second year.

After Harry telling Daphne the intriguing tale of just how it was that the contract applied to him, their brief meeting had basically ended with Daphne telling Harry that while he seemed like a nice person, she still thought he was a reckless idiot with no hint of subtlety. However, she was willing to give him a chance to change that by the end of their seventh year (after which they would be getting married) or else. When he pointed out that there was no way she could get out of marrying him, she just gave him a cold smirk and said, 'that doesn't mean I cannot make the rest of your life a living hell, Potter. So you'd better work on it!'

Harry wasn't too worried about that bit since he was planning to change his general attitude anyway, but that remark nevertheless made him shiver, so he just nodded wordlessly in assent.

Finally, just before her father had come to pick her up, Daphne turned to Harry and said, 'one other thing Potter, while the contract requires me to remain a virgin till I am married, the same does not apply for you. So you'd better see to it that you have me screaming on our first night as a married couple. Understand?'

Harry gulped, 'sure thing.'

After that one meeting, they had decided to pick up at school. Harry had suggested that they write to each other over the summer, but Daphne shot that down as she found it impersonal and slightly cliché.

Bringing himself back to the present, Harry went upstairs for a bath.

Returning back to his room, he was just about to put on his pants when Ron Weasley took that moment to burst through the door.

'Harry! I didn't know you wer-' he was cut short as a startled Harry Potter wandlessly banished him out of the room closing the door firmly in his face, only getting a fleeting glance at his friend's nude body.

'Damn it Weasley, haven't you heard of knocking?' Harry shouted out through the door as the situation and its full implications had finally sunk in; his best friend had gotten into the room without much of a warning and had literally caught Harry with his pants down. Worse yet was the fleeting glimpse he had caught of Hermione before the door had fully shut. While he had gotten used to Ron seeing him like this (he did share a dorm with four other boys after all) what worried him was that Hermione had possibly seen him. He hoped to whatever power that was out there that she hadn't seen anything or he really had no idea what he was going to do. Staying locked up in this room till the end of time sounded like a great idea right now.

Ron coughed nervously at this. He still had no idea how he had been propelled out of the door and nearly on his arse and was quite confused about it. He also did not understand why Harry was so shy all of a sudden. After all, they had shared a dorm with each other for the past five years, and were quite used to seeing each other in various states of undress. Besides, it wasn't as if he had seen anything.

Before he could say anything however, Hermione took that moment to make her presence known, finally answering Ron's question of why Harry was being shy.

'Ronald Weasley, that was completely rude! How would you like it if I had barged into your room while you were getting dressed?'

'Well, he should have locked the door then!' said Ron defensively turning red at the prospect of Hermione seeing him without any clothes. 'I had no idea that he would be starkers in there! Besides, I thought he was still asleep, there wouldn't have been much point of knocking on the door if that was the case?'

'And that is why the door was closed you twit!' said Harry indignantly through the door as he scrambled into a pair of jeans. Buttoning them up, he registered the second half of what Ron had said. Now completely irritated, he opened the door.

'Let me get this straight; according to you, barging in on a sleeping person is more preferable than knocking on the door? I will keep that in mind the next time you are asleep. Oh hello Hermione,' he added in the last bit acknowledging the witch in question. Upon registering the blush creeping up on her face, he realised that he had forgotten to put a shirt on.

Hermione watched as Harry strode back into the room and put a shirt on. She had to admit that her friend was looking much better than before. He seemed to have grown over the summer and had developed rather nicely. Even his face had changed somewhat. While he still looked the same, there were a few differences here and there that made him almost unrecognisable at first glance.

'What happened to your glasses Harry?' she asked him.

'Oh that, well I had this thing called a Laser in Situ Keratokinesis done that fixed my vision!'

'You mean "Laser-Assisted in Situ Keratomileusis"?' She corrected gently.

'Yeah, that.' Harry replied absently. With genuine glee he continued, 'No more glasses for me! Now I can do this.' He turned his head to the side and looked at his friends from the corner of his eyes.

'Er, what?' asked a confused Ron.

'I can look out the corner of my eyes of course! I couldn't do that before without things being blurry!' said Harry with a bit of exasperation.

'Good for you mate!' said Ron, genuinely happy for his friend even though he had no idea what the big deal was. 'What exactly is this Laser in-thingy?'

'Laser-Assisted in Situ Keratomileusis or LASIK is a type of refractive surgery for correcting myopia, hyperopia, and astigmatism. It-'

'Hold it Hermione,' said Ron laughing, cutting her off in midsentence. 'I have no idea what you are talking about.'

Hermione just huffed in response clearly miffed at being interrupted. People could be so rude at times.

Harry could see the beginnings of a major argument building up, so he decided to interject before they could get started. He did not want to start the morning off with an argument between those two.

'Basically it is a procedure to correct people's eyesight.' He said to Ron before either of them could get a word in.

'I figured that,' said Ron sarcastically. 'What I want to know is how.' Ron had become curious about Muggle things lately and wanted to know what that Lay Sick was all about.

'See, the Muggles first put these pain numbing drops on your eyes, and then make you lie down on a bed. They then put these suction cups on your eyes so that they do not move. Once they do that, they use a blade attached to a machine to make a small slice on the surface of your eyes, over here,' he pointed to the cornea of his own eye, 'to make a really thin flap with a hinge.'

'Then they fold back the flap, and use this thing called a laser which is basically a beam of really hot light, to burn along the inside of your eye. This smoothens out the imperfections. After that they just put the flap back on and send you back out.'

Harry sat back against the bed. He was pretty amused at the look of nausea on Ron's face that his description had created. He had looked up the procedure last year when he was getting rather sick of wearing those glasses. However, he couldn't get it done then as he needed permission and he did not need to get it done now. But the information was rather useful in giving credence to his story.

Hermione looked rather green as well. Harry had the feeling that she hadn't really looked that much into the surgery. This was understandable as she really had no need of doing so since she had perfect vision. He wondered why she had tried explaining it nonetheless. Sometimes he just could not understand that girl.

'Muggles do that?' Ron exclaimed incredulously. He was slightly unnerved by Harry's description and did not know if Harry was taking the Mickey or not. His eyes were actually hurting in sympathy at this description.

'Yeah, they do,' said Harry. He himself was glad that he did not have to undergo that surgery. It did sound rather painful. Not to mention the number of things that could go wrong there.

'But don't they have potions for that sort of thing?' asked Ron slightly sickened,

'Of course they don't, Ron! Then Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall wouldn't need glasses now, would they?' said Hermione

'Actually they do have a vision correction potion. It was invented rather recently, but it requires the drinker to be of a certain age group,' said Harry, causing Ron to give Hermione a smug look.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron and said, 'why didn't you just use the potion then?'

'Well, it is rather restricted and requires a potions master to brew it. I am not going to be asking Snape for any favours, thank you very much.'

'But Harry, if he could help you why didn't you just ask him?' Hermione tried to reason with him. 'You could try and put your differences aside for a minute you know.' She implored.

'Oh please Hermione, for all we know, Snape could botch the potion up on purpose to make Harry blind.' Ron said. 'I bet his master would be happy with that,' he said darkly.

'Honestly Ron he is on our side!' said Hermione with the air of somebody who had that argument before.

'That's what he says.'

'Well Dumbledore trusts him, so that should be enough for you.' said Hermione with finality.

'Well that does not matter because I already had my eyes fixed. I would have loved to have it done the magical way, but I got it done the Muggle way. Whatever, the end result is that I can see without my glasses. Now can we please drop it?' Harry interjected before Ron had a chance to say anything in rebuttal.

Ron and Hermione glared at each other for a moment before agreeing sullenly.

'Thank you,' said Harry. 'Now what's for breakfast? I'm starved!'

'Oh, mum's making eggs among other things. She's really going all out now that you're here. She reckons that you look half-starved,' said Ron rolling his eyes. Just then Harry noticed Hermione giving him a peculiar look as if he was sickening for something.

'So what's been going on?' asked Ron

'Nothing much,' Harry replied. 'I've been stuck at the Dursleys all this time, haven't I?'

'Oh come off it, you've been with Dumbledore!'

'It wasn't that exciting; He only wanted my help to convince this old teacher to come back for the year. His name is Horace Slughorn.'

'Oh,' said Ron disappointedly. 'We thought that-' Hermione shot Ron a warning look at that moment causing him to change track at top speed, 'we thought that it would be something like that.'

'Really,' drawled Harry visibly amused.

'Yeah, well we no longer have a Defence teacher anymore, and now with the way things are going we definitely need a new teacher for Defence. So, um, what is he like?'

'He looks a bit like a walrus and was head of Slytherin,' said Harry. 'Something wrong Hermione?'

Hermione who had a look on her face as if she was waiting for Harry to suddenly show symptoms of a major illness hastily rearranged her face into an unconvincing smile. 'It's nothing Harry. So, um, did Slughorn seem like a good teacher?'

'Dunno, though he can't be any worse than Umbridge.' said Harry not fooled one bit by Hermione's apparent change of subject. He had an idea why she was looking at him like that, if the letters he had gotten from her were any indication. All throughout the summer she had tried to get him to talk about Sirius dying. Something he wasn't too pleased about. After speaking to Remus and revisiting the few memories he had of Sirius, he had finally come to terms with Sirius' death. He wondered why Hermione was looking at him like that considering that he had told her about speaking to Remus.

'I know somebody who can be worse than Umbridge,' said Ginny irritably as she slouched into the room.

'Hey Harry,' she said before giving him a second look. 'Wow looking good there Harry!' she said slightly breathlessly. The Harry Potter standing in front of her was drastically different from the one she had seen leaving King's Cross. He was taller, and his face now had an aristocratic look to it.

'What happened to your glasses?' she asked curiously.

Before Harry could open his mouth, Ron interrupted with a shudder, 'You do not want to know. And I wish you would lay off Fleur.'

Ginny snorted in response, 'That's right, defend her,' she snapped. 'We all know that you can't get enough of her.'

Judging by the look on Ginny's and Hermione's face, Harry guessed that Ron was still affected by Fleur's Veela aura.

'Don't you get used to her now that she's around so much?' he asked his friend.

'You do, but sometimes when she pops up unexpected and catches you off guard...' he trailed off with a wistful look on his face.

'It's pathetic,' said Hermione completely disgusted as she moved to examine one of the boxes left behind by Fred and George.

'You can't honestly want her around forever?' asked Ginny incredulously.

Ron just shrugged in response. 'It's not as if we can do anything about it now.'

'Not if Mum has anything to say about it, I bet she'll put a stop to it.' Ginny responded.

'What makes you say that?' asked Harry.

'She keeps trying to get Tonks around for dinner. I reckon she is hoping that Bill falls for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd rather have her in the family.'

'Yeah that'll work,' said Ron sarcastically. 'Listen, no bloke in his right mind would fall for Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean she's OK-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and nose, but-'

'She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,' said Ginny.

'And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!' put in Hermione from the corner, clutching a telescope she had found in one of the boxes.

'Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament,' said Harry defensively.

'Not you as well,' said Hermione bitterly.

'I suppose that you like the way she says "'Arry ", do you?' said Ginny scornfully.

'While I do admit that the way Fleur says my name has a certain charm to it-'

'I'd much rather have Tonks in the family anyway,' said Ginny cutting Harry off. 'At least she's a laugh.'

'About that,' said Harry. 'I can say with certainty that Tonks isn't going to be falling for Bill even if Bill falls for her.'

'What would you know about that?' asked Ginny suspiciously.

'Well I know for a fact that Tonks is already spoken for and is currently very much smitten with the person she is going out with.'

'Who is it?' asked Hermione curiously as Ginny groaned on hearing the news.

'Shouldn't you be asking Tonks that?' Harry said. 'I am not telling you. It's her business anyway. All I can say is that she is currently going out with someone and is rather happy with him.' Harry honestly did not know if Tonks wanted her relationship with Remus kept a secret or not and so decided to err on the side of caution. All the girls had to do anyway was ask her directly, and, if she felt like it, Tonks would reveal who she was seeing. This way, Harry was in the clear.

Just then Ginny was called down by Mrs. Weasley leaving Harry, Ron and Hermione alone once again. The topic of conversation then changed to what Dumbledore had done with Harry the night before with Harry mentioning private lessons with him and then finally deciding to reveal the prophecy. Ron and Hermione acted as good friends should by giving sympathising with Harry and still staying on his side. The moment of sentimentality was broken when Hermione was punched in the eye with the telescope she was examining.

Further conversation was halted with Hermione rushing out in a blind panic when Harry, remembering a part of the conversation he had heard from Professor Dumbledore, mentioned that the O.W.L. results would be arriving that day itself.

As Harry followed Ron downstairs in a more sedate pace he could not help but think that something was a bit off about the whole situation. While their concern seemed genuine, Ron and Hermione did not seem too surprised by the full contents of the prophecy. Also the letters he had received from them over the summer seemed a bit off too. Harry was slightly irritated with his friends because they had hardly written to him while he was there with those Muggles. It was just like last summer; the difference being that this time they seemed to have grown some sense and had stopped alluding to bigger more secret things that they were privy to in their letters. Though that had only added to his worries; the last time they really had nothing to hide when they were sending him all those hints, but this time, they weren't saying anything at all. Then again, it could be Harry's paranoia talking.

As he entered the kitchen to find Mrs. Weasley trending to Hermione's black eye that had been a result of her getting punched by the trick telescope designed by the twins that she had found while talking in Fred and George's room, he pushed that irritation away. It had to be his paranoia talking. Perhaps they really had nothing to talk about and were too busy to write to him that often. Perhaps they had also decided to leave him alone for a while to give him time and space to come to terms with Sirius' death and grieve? After all he himself had barely written to them. Yes, it had to be it. There was nothing dodgy going on. After all, it wasn't as if they were getting paid to be his friends or something!

He could easily get to the bottom of the whole thing by using Legilimency. But he did not want to do so. They were his friends after all, and he did trust them. It was here that Harry finally realised the temptations and responsibilities a Legilimens had. It would be more than easy to just give into temptation and find out what a person was thinking by rifling through their thoughts, but Harry had learnt to appreciate privacy growing up and did not feel comfortable about violating somebody else's privacy. In the end Harry made a vow to himself that he would never go through the minds of his friends. They hadn't done anything to shake his trust in them, so he would in turn trust them enough to not scan their minds fully. No he would not start abusing his gift by mind raping other people. He was not like Voldemort at all. Or Snape for that matter

As Harry dug into the large breakfast that Mrs. Weasley and Fleur had cooked up, Harry's train of thought wandered off to other topics. The instances where he had perused the thoughts of all those Muggles without any thought for their privacy did not even cross his mind at all.

'Where did your glasses go Harry dear?' asked Mrs. Weasley curiously. She couldn't remember if he had worn them last night or earlier this morning as she was distracted with other things.

At her question, Ron shuddered and said, 'You don't want to know mum!'

'Oh please Ron, it can't be that bad!' said Ginny. She herself was curious about that and pretty peeved at Ron for interrupting her when she had asked that question. Ignoring Ron's frantic gestures, she repeated the question to Harry.

Five minutes later, both the Weasley women and Fleur understood why Ron and Hermione had looks of nausea on their faces and why Ron had not wanted that story repeated as mother and daughter turned an unflattering but identical shade of green while Fleur still managed to look fetching even while nauseous.

After spending five minutes of reassuring Mrs. Weasley that he did not need to have his eyes looked at by Madame Pomfrey or the healers at St. Mungo's, Harry got back to his breakfast reflecting that it was quite an entertaining story to tell.

They were interrupted again by Hermione who had barely touched her food and kept looking out of the window had just spotted three owls winging their way to the Burrow.

'Oh, our O.W.L. results!' she squeaked as she hurriedly stood up and hurried toward the window, knocking her chair over in the process.

Harry suddenly not feeling very hungry got up and stood next to Hermione as he observed the approaching owls. He was shortly joined by Ron who stood on Hermione's other side.

Hermione gripped their arms tightly as she fretted over the results soon approaching, certain that she had failed everything. Her nervousness had affected Harry somewhat as well. He knew that he hadn't done as well as he could on some of the subjects, and only hoped that he hadn't failed everything as well.

A few minutes later, Harry found much to his relief that his worst fears were unfounded. He had done quite well in all his subjects with the only exception being History of Magic and Divination, two subjects he was glad to be rid of. He had even scored an O+ in Defence with extra credit given for his Patronus! He was pleasantly surprised to note that not only had he also managed to scrape an O in Transfiguration and Charms as well but had somehow gotten an E+ in his Potions O.W.L. of course that meant that he wouldn't be able to get into Snape's N.E.W.T. class, but he wasn't unhappy over that. He no longer wished to be an Auror. After all, now that he looked back on it, chasing Dark Lords for the rest of his life did not sound that appealing anymore. Besides, managing his estate would take up most of his time and he really wasn't hurting for money. Perhaps he would try and play Quidditch professionally.

Harry was brought back to the present when Hermione somewhat impatiently asked what he had gotten. He swapped his results with his friends; Ron's scores were more or less similar to Harry's except that he had only gotten Es in Transfiguration, Charms and Defence. Hermione had quite predictably gotten Os in all of her subjects except in Defence where, to Harry's immense surprise, she had obtained an E. Harry looked back at Hermione and intently studied her face when he saw her scores. She didn't seem too disappointed.

Suddenly feeling ravenous, Harry finished his breakfast at top speed while an excited Hermione started filling out her application form for the N.E.W.T. classes she would be taking. Finishing his breakfast, Harry took out the envelope for the required form and filled in what N.E.W.T. classes he wanted to take.

'Seven O.W.L.s, that's more than what Fred and George got together!' Commented Mrs. Weasley with a hint of pride when she saw Ron's result.

Harry nearly choked on the glass of pumpkin juice he was drinking when he heard this news. They really didn't care! He thought in incredulity. He was pretty amazed at the level of dedication they had shown towards their dream. Now that he thought about it, he could fully appreciate what the one thousand Galleons he had given to them two years back meant to them. If it wasn't for that money, they wouldn't have been able to get a decent enough job. No wonder they listed me as a partner, he thought as all the objections he had about his made being a partner died down. I was the person who made their dream a reality!

Just then Bill walked into the house with the intention of meeting Fleur and possibly having some of his mum's cooking. As he turned to greet Harry after greeting everybody, the sparkle of the diamond solitaire in the younger wizard's earring easily caught his well trained eyes.

'Nice earring you got there Harry,' he said conversationally.

'What? Harry has an earring?' said Mrs. Weasley as she and Hermione both looked a bit closer at Harry. And sure enough glinting innocently back at them on Harry's left earlobe was a single stud. Bill grinned on hearing this. He was surprised that his mum hadn't caught that yet.

All the occupants of the room waited with bated breath as they watched Mrs. Weasley slowly register the presence of the earring on Harry's ear. It was no secret to them that Mrs. Weasley was a bit conservative, if her reactions to Bill's earring and hair were any indication. Harry was especially nervous since it was him she would be directing her ire at. Not that he would be listening to her. She wasn't his mother after all.

Mrs. Weasley indeed looked like she was going to say something. However, before saying anything, her expression changed as she seemed to reconsider her words. Finally she opened her mouth and said rather calmly, 'it looks good on you dear.' She then turned around and flicked her wand as she started washing the dishes much to the astonishment of everybody else.

Bill especially was stunned. He was really looking forward to having somebody else in the house being lectured by his mum about having an earring or long hair for a change. 'But, mum, he has an earring' he said in a near whine. 'Why does that not bother you?'

'Well, Harry's earring is far more tasteful and elegant compared to that horrible great fang that you have dangling from your ear Bill!' snapped Molly Weasley as she rounded on her eldest son. 'And I would like to think that my grown son, who is about to get married would have at least stopped whinging like a five year old by now!' She said severely.

Bill just rolled his eyes as he sat down for breakfast, partly amused and partly frustrated. He had no idea why his mother was acting like this ever since he had come home with Fleur.

Hermione on the other hand looked rather disapprovingly at Harry. 'Harry James Potter! How could you get an ear pierced? It is completely unacceptable! What will they say in school?'

'Well, I went to this place where they do tattoos and ear piercings and I thought to myself, "hey, why not get my ear pierced?" so I walk in and ask the guy behind the counter and he says, "Just step this way sir." He makes me sit down on a chair, takes out this gun thing, swabs my ear with some disinfectant and local anaesthesia and shoots a hole into my ear!' said Harry with false brightness, thoroughly annoying Hermione.

'And before you ask, Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the school saw my earring and did not say a thing! So there!' Harry finished, glaring at her.

'I think it looks rather nice,' said Ginny into the uncomfortable silence. Hermione just huffed at this refusing to speak to anybody. She was shocked that Mrs. Weasley hadn't said anything against Harry's earring.

'Thanks Ginny,' said Harry. He smiled at her, breaking the tension that had built up.

The immediate silence was broken by renewed groans from everybody in the kitchen when Bill innocently asked, 'so, why aren't you wearing your glasses anymore, Harry?'

So here's chapter ten ... finally...
For those who were wondering why I took so long, well I had a major revelation a few days back;

1. Things put in the microwave oven are heated from inside out. Thus if the bread of, say, a sandwich, is warm, the filling will be really hot!

2. Micro-waved bread is rather rubbery.

3. When eating a micro-waved sandwich, there is a good chance that the filling can ooze out of the other end. Especially if the filling has gravy.

4. One should take care to ensure that one's fingers aren't between the pieces of bread at the other end when eating such a sandwich.

And finally and most importantly,

5. It can be bloody hard to type with burnt fingers!

On another unrelated note; an ice cold five hundred Ml PET bottle of Coca Cola is an excellent substitute for an ice pack! Especially if one has burnt their fingers ... since it is rather easy to fit burnt fingers through the gaps at the bottom.

Oh, one other thing, when stepping into a shower stall with high pressure body jets, in a house supplied by instant hot water one must make sure that one does not turn on the hot water at full blast. It may burn your stomach ... if you are lucky ... thankfully, I was that lucky!

So that's been my life the last couple of weeks ... got burnt when eating a sandwich and having a bath ... all on the same day! Fun, innit!

11. Never Again

The next few days passed by quickly within the confines of the Burrow with Harry continuing with his training early every morning. He spent the rest of the day with his friends mucking about in the orchard playing two-a-side Quidditch, occasionally going for a swim in the pond nearby and his evenings having triple helpings of whatever Mrs. Weasley put in front of him.

On his sixteenth birthday, Harry had privately made plans to go somewhere for the night in order to have a proper celebration. He was feeling restless and cooped up from being forced to stay within the boundary walls of the Weasley property. The stories of unexplained disappearances, odd accidents and even deaths that appeared almost every day in the Prophet had also put a damper in what should have been a happy and peaceful holiday. Sometimes, they would get news from Mr. Weasley and Bill even before it hit the papers.

His decision was further cemented on the day of his birthday when Remus Lupin, much to Mrs. Weasley's displeasure, brought home some grisly news.

'There has been another spate of Dementor attacks,' he announced as he accepted a slice of birthday cake from Mrs. Weasley. 'They have also found Igor Karkaroff's body in a shack up north with the Dark Mark hovering over it. Frankly I'm surprised he lasted this long. From what I heard, Sirius' brother Regulus only lasted a couple of days before they caught up to him.'

That night after everybody had retired for the night, Harry snuck out of his room. Moving stealthily, he stole out of the house and made his way to the edge of the wards. From some experimentation over the past few days, Harry had reached the conclusion that the wards did not extend to the orchard. A potential weak spot should the Death Eaters come calling. After asking Bill some subtle questions about the wards, Harry found out that the orchard had a Detection Charm placed that would detect the presence of any person not keyed into the wards. This made sneaking in and out rather easy as Harry had already been keyed into the wards. In short, the Burrow had wards meant to keep people out, not in. Thus, allowing free movement of the persons residing within its walls.

Armed with this information, Harry made his way to the Orchard where he then silently Disapparated to London to begin his birthday celebrations.

He returned at around two in the morning leaving behind a sleeping brunette whose name he had already forgotten, who would no doubt be pitching a fit when she found herself alone in the morning. Early on, Harry had found that it took a lot of alcohol to get him even close to tipsy. He supposed that it was due to the magic he possessed that neutralised the effects of alcohol. Either that or his current size was the reason (he still was having difficulties in thinking of himself as tall or "big" as some people put it). While the obvious advantage of this was that he could probably win any drinking contest, Harry was still disappointed as he really wanted to know what it was to become utterly pissed and hadn't yet managed that despite having chased his drinks. Hopefully Wizarding liquor would be potent enough to get him drunk.

As he managed to successfully sneak back into his room silently congratulating himself on his conquest, he spied a parcel on his bed with a letter on top of it. Harry opened the letter first;

Dear Mr. Potter, it read

I am eternally grateful to you for your timely warning about the impeding attack upon my person and business. I shudder to think what would have transpired had you not been able to warn me. I most likely would have been a guest of the Dark Lord's.

As it is, it is definitely fortunate you had managed to warn me of the attack. I had enough time to employ the counter measures my ancestors had placed in order to repel Dark Wizards.

In thanks I send to you this copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard. It is a one of a kind copy which had been given to me a long time back. While most would call the stories held within fanciful tales for children, there are yet others that claim that these tales are actual documentations of real events that have happened over time. I leave the decision up to you. Make what you will out of the exquisite work of art that this book is as you enjoy the many tales within.

Wishing you a merry birthday, I remain,

Yours,

Ollivander

Opening the parcel, Harry gasped as he laid eyes upon the book within. The book was a hardback, the cover made of cherry and gold leaf. The art work on it was inlaid with precious stones. Opening the gilded pages revealed the exquisite calligraphy with the historiated initials done in painstaking detail. The ink used actually shimmered and seemed to be lit from within.

The book was in short so beautiful that it would incite even the most reluctant of readers to start reading.

Carefully putting the book back into the silk slip it had come in, Harry placed it in his trunk before turning in for the night.

Their Hogwarts letters came in the very next day. Harry's had a surprise for him. He had been made the Quidditch captain.

'Brilliant mate, this puts you on an equal footing to us prefects!' said Ron. 'You can use the prefects' bathroom and everything! I guess I should call you my captain now ... that is if you'll let me in the team.'

Harry examined the scarlet badge with a golden "C" superimposed over the Gryffindor lion and smiled. He was happy that he had made Quidditch Captain over Katie who had more experience than him. Looking up at Ron he said teasingly, 'Well, you'll have to practise more now if you want that spot Weasley.'

Remembering at the last moment about the request he wanted to make to Professor McGonagall he quickly wrote a small note asking her about the Runes and Arithmancy classes and attached it to the school owl. The owl gave him a dirty look for having called it back just as it was about to take off before winging its way back to Hogwarts.

He turned back to the conversation that was taking place between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Hermione just as they had managed to convince Mrs. Weasley to go shopping in Diagon Alley the next day for school supplies.

They all left the next morning after Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a tongue lashing over making jokes about the security measures that she was discussing with them. As the Floo was potentially more risky, they left for the Alley in cars provided by the Ministry. Harry sat between Hermione and Ron and across from Ginny. As Ron wasn't exactly conversation material since he was still sulking and Hermione was trying to calm him down, Harry found himself making idle conversation with Ginny.

Upon reaching the Leaky Cauldron they found out that their security detail was Hagrid who greeted them at the entrance to the pub. Harry knew that the security was more for him than because Mr. Weasley had been promoted, as Mrs. Weasley claimed, but did not say anything, even though the thought of being treated like an ignorant child did chafe at him a bit.

As the portal opened at the back of the pub, Harry was greeted by the sight of a much changed Diagon Alley. In the intervening couple of days between his last visit to the Alley and now, a lot of small shabby makeshift stalls had sprung up out of the woodwork selling all sorts of protective charms and potions. Their presence gave the Alley an air of gloom. The boarded up storefronts of some of the shops (the most prominent of them being Fortescue's) and the furtive and tense looks of the shoppers in the abnormally quiet Alley did not help matters any.

They walked forward in a tense silence with Mr. Weasley sending the stall vendors dirty looks and muttering darkly to himself while Mrs. Weasley warned him nervously in a hushed voice not to do anything rash.

Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts (which was, mercifully, still open) where they got the books on their list. Harry slipped in a copy of the third and fourth year Ancient Runes and Arithmancy textbooks. As they stepped out of the bookstore, Mr. Weasley turned to his wife and said, 'Why don't we split up? These three can go with Hagrid and get their robes while the two of us and Ginny can go to the Apothecary and restock Hermione and Ginny's Potions kit. This way we can get things over with faster. We can meet them at Fred and George's place.'

Mrs. Weasley still looked undecided, so Hermione pointed out that Ron and Harry definitely needed new robes and that nobody would be foolish enough to mess with Hagrid. Finally convinced, Mrs. Weasley agreed to split off and moved with her husband and a visibly disappointed Ginny.

Entering Madame Malkin's shop, they ran into Draco Malfoy who was wearing pinned up dress robes. Harry hung back as he watched Malfoy start insulting Hermione and Ron. He did not draw his wand like Ron had done the minute he had laid eyes on the blonde, but he was still alert nonetheless as he discreetly placed himself a bit behind Malfoy pretending to peruse the selection of dress robes while keeping an eye on the boy, ready for action should Malfoy think of doing anything funny. Knowing that Malfoy was right handed, Harry made sure to stay on his left. That way, the other boy would have to put in more effort to bring his wand to bear.

'So where's Potter? Was he too afraid to show his face around here?' said Malfoy sneering after finishing with Hermione.

'Draco old chap!' said Harry with false cheer, startling the other boy. 'How are you doing these days? I trust you are in good health? How's the family?' he asked with an innocent expression on his face that fooled nobody.

Malfoy turned a faint pink as his eyes flashed in anger at that subtle barb made against his father. 'Just you wait Potter, The Dark Lord-'

'-will one day find me and capture me which will culminate in my long, drawn out and painful death. After which, he will take over the world, ridding it of the "impure,"' Harry cut Malfoy off mid-rant with a bored voice, rolling his eyes. 'Haven't you come up with any new material to taunt me with yet? I suggest you do so, because frankly the old stuff's getting a bit boring,' he said conversationally.

Not expecting such a reaction Malfoy sputtered as he thought of a suitable response. However, before he could say anything, Narcissa Malfoy came out from where she was talking to Madame Malkin about a new wardrobe for her son. She was unpleasantly surprised to see her son standing off against two other people.

Mentally, she sighed, couldn't he for one moment in his life think twice? Schooling her features, Narcissa gave a contemptuous look to the youngest spawn of those blood-traitor Weasleys. Noting the drawn wand, she said coldly, 'Put that away right now, boy. If you attack my son again I will ensure that it is the last thing you ever do!' Casting her eyes at the Mudblood, she sneered with obvious disdain before looking away from the two with a sniff and obvious dismissal; they really were not worth her time whatsoever. What surprised her was the absence of their ringleader and the only reason why people even gave the blood-traitor and Mudblood any attention, Harry Potter.

At that moment, she laid eyes on a handsome aristocratic young man watching the scene in front of him almost casually. Her eyes narrowed as she took in his features. The boy had the patrician nose and high cheekbones of a Black. In fact, from a certain angle, she could almost mistake him for her estranged and late cousin Sirius.

As she picked out the scar on the boy's forehead, she inhaled through her nose with a sharp hiss. That's Potter. But how did he end up looking like my cousin Sirius? This bore looking into...

Ronald Weasley eyed Mrs. Malfoy suspiciously as she stared at his best mate. He did not know why she was looking at him so calculatingly but he did not like it one bit. She's up to something,

he thought darkly.

Madame Malkin did not know what to do in the rising tension in her shop. She really did not want a fight to break out. Especially when it involved a high paying regular, especially now given the state of things. She already had to make do without two of her employees as they had elected to flee the country. So she decided that if she acted as if nothing was happening, hopefully the situation would resolve itself peacefully. With that in mind, she reached for the sleeve of the dress robes that young Master Malfoy was wearing. It was one of her finest creations. 'I think that the left sleeve needs some adjusting,' she said.

Draco Malfoy yelped at the sudden contact as Malkin's hand brushed his arm. His Lord had recently Marked him and the skin there was still tender even though it no longer was inflamed. This had the side effect of focussing everybody's attention on him. Thinking quickly, he covered his actions by loudly insulting Madame Malkin and making a production of it, left the shop followed by his mother, confident that neither Potter nor that Mudblood know-it-all had seen the Mark. He wasn't too worried about the Weasel. He was too dumb to figure anything out.

Narcissa watched as her son tried to cover his actions by loudly blaming the woman who had been measuring him and many others for more than three decades with some irritation and a little hint of fear; it was still some time left for the healing period to be completed, and the Mark was still visible till that time. Only after the healing period would the Mark become hidden, visible only to their brethren. Only showing when their Lord called. Draco could not afford for the Mark to be seen on his flesh, especially by Potter and his ilk. Hopefully, they hadn't seen it.

She had even warned him not to go out in public till the skin had healed and the Mark had concealed itself. But no, he wouldn't listen! Sighing in resignation, Narcissa gave a look to Madame Malkin that the other woman acknowledged as an apology. The Blacks as well as the Malfoys along with many other pureblood families had a long standing relationship with the establishment and she was not about to let that be jeopardised by her son. She would be coming over later to collect the rest of the order and soothe Madame Malkin's ruffled feathers. If Draco ended up with ill fitting robes, it was not her fault. Not that she expected that issue to crop up. Madame Malkin was rather gifted.

In her somewhat distracted state of mind, Narcissa did not notice Ron's eyes as they widened imperceptibly as he caught a fleeting glimpse of black against the pale skin of Malfoy's arm when the sleeve was raised for that one small instant in time.

Ron waited till an irritated Madame Malkin started measuring Harry. When he saw that they were suitably occupied, he pulled Hermione aside and in hushed tones told her about his discovery.

'But he's only sixteen! Surely Voldemort wouldn't think of recruiting a sixteen year old into his ranks?' said Hermione in a hushed voice, ignoring as always the small flinch Ron gave as she uttered the forbidden name.

'Hermione, who knows what You-Know-Who thinks and why he does what he does,' Ron replied. He checked to see if Harry was still occupied, 'for all we know, this could be a clever ploy by You-Know-Who to take over Hogwarts!'

Hermione seemed to consider this before asking hesitantly, 'You're sure you saw the Dark Mark on his arm right?'

Ron just nodded in response. Hermione bit her lower lip as she thought of this. 'We should tell Harry about this,' she decided.

Ron immediately interrupted her before she could further that thought. 'Actually I don't think we should. No, listen,' he hastily continued as Hermione was about to protest, 'Harry already has a lot on his plate. He already has You-Know-Who to worry about, those classes with Dumbledore won't be much of a picnic, and he has also just lost his godfather he does not need to deal with this. Besides, Dumbledore told us to take care of him. We can do this without having to worry him. You and I can easily find out what he is up to and we don't need to worry Harry. Let him have a nice normal year for once.'

Ron watched Hermione's lower lip as she worried it with her teeth. She really is beautiful when she does that he thought. He immediately shook himself from that line of thinking as she opened her mouth to speak.

'Yeah, you're right Ron. Let Harry have this one year without having to worry about what Voldemort and his minions are planning. Though, I don't know if we will be able to figure this out on our own. Perhaps we should tell Dumbledore?'

'Nah, the man's busy enough as it is. Besides, Malfoy won't have a chance! Not with the smartest witch in Hogwarts on his case!'

Hermione blushed at this compliment and swatted his arm in response, trying and failing to show how much it had affected her. Not to be fooled by this, Ron's smile grew even more at that.

Just then a throat was cleared, causing them to realise just how close to each other they were. Jumping apart and blushing deeply, they turned around to find a Madame Malkin and Harry Potter staring at them. Seeing the knowing smirk on their friend's face only caused them to blush even more as they avoided eye contact with each other.

Madame Malkin didn't seem to be as irritated as before, though she still looked a bit unhappy with them. She disappeared in the back of the store along with Harry leaving both Ron and Hermione at the tender mercies of two young and inexperienced employees who proceeded to actually do the one thing Draco Malfoy had accused her of in abundance.

Five minutes later, they were ushered out of the shop by Madame Malkin who had the air of being glad of seeing their backs. Harry, however, got a warm goodbye, seeing as he had just commissioned a new wardrobe to be delivered later on by owl post.

They met up with the rest of their party at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a garishly decorated building that unlike the rest of the stores in Diagon Alley was pretty busy with customers coming into the shop in droves. A fact that Harry was sure wasn't earning them any charitable thoughts from the other shop owners as he looked at the different products that where banging, flashing, popping and whirling in fascination. He had to turn away after a while as it was beginning to hurt his eyes.

Snickering at the U-No-Poo poster, Harry led the way into the shop followed by Ron who was assuring Mrs. Weasley that her twin sons won't be "murdered in their beds" as she put it.

The shop was packed with customers; Harry could not reach the shelves. He looked at the different boxes stacked up to the ceiling full of different things the twins had invented. He had noticed that their Skiving Snackboxes were quite popular, with Nosebleed Nougat being a favourite, judging by the one battered box still left in an otherwise empty shelf.

Hermione pushed through the crowd towards Harry reading off a box of Daydream Charms. '"One simple incantation, and you will enter a highly realistic thirty minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include a vacant expression and mild drooling) not for sale to under sixteens." That is impressive magic!' she said.

'For that Hermione,' said a beaming Fred as he sidled up to them wearing magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his hair. 'You can have one for free.'

He shook hands with Harry. 'Hey, Harry, looking good there! I see you've managed to lose the glasses, though I have been told not to ask you how.' Looking at Hermione again he asked her about the black eye she was sporting. Leaving her with the bruise salve that he and George used frequently he set off with Harry giving him a tour of the establishment, showing him the range of products he and George and managed to create. They met George near the display full of Muggle tricks ('for freaks like dad,') where they took Harry to a less crowded room at the back. The products of this room had a more subdued packaging.

'This is where we make most of our money,' said Fred waving a hand at the shelves. 'Initially we had started making Shield Hats as a joke. You know, challenge your mate to jinx you wearing the hat and then watch his face as it bounces back. But the Ministry soon ordered a large amount for their support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!'

'So we started our defence line,' continued George. 'Not only did we expand to Shield Cloaks and Gloves, which, while they won't be much use against the Unforgiveables will help deflect minor jinxes and curses. We also have Instant Darkness Powder that we are importing from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape.'

'Look at these, Decoy Detonators. Just drop them surreptitiously and they run off and make a lot of noise somewhere nicely hidden, handy for creating diversions,' said Fred, showing Harry a couple of weird looking black hooter-type objects trying to scurry out of sight.

'Impressive,' said Harry.

'Here, have a few,' said Fred as he put a handful of the Darkness Powder and some of the Detonators into two bags which he handed to Harry.

'Now, none of that!' said George suddenly with a frown, 'We haven't forgotten what you have done for us, and for that, whatever you take is free. Just be sure to tell people where you got it from.' In response to that, Harry withdrew his hand from his pocket where he was about to get his money-bag out without putting up much of a fuss.

'Mr. Weasley, a customer is out at the front wanting to buy a fake cauldron,' a voice from the entrance to the back room said. Turning around, Harry saw a young blonde woman dressed in magenta robes addressing the twins.

'Right you are, Verity, I'm coming,' said George following her out.

'She looks a lot like Rita Skeeter,' Harry told Fred, suddenly figuring the resemblance as they made their way out to the front of the store.

'Does she now?' Fred squinted at Verity, 'I think you're right, she does look a lot like Rita. I never figured that. Poor girl,' he winced in sympathy.

'It's pretty ironic though ... when you think of her name and all,' Fred mused as he moved towards a customer.

Harry wandered around the store before making his way towards the girls where he noticed that Fred and Ginny were having a rather heated argument if the way Ginny was glaring at her older brother (so reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley, that Harry was surprised Fred didn't recoil in horror) was to go by.

Catching the end of the conversation, Harry figured that it had something to do with the display of Love Potions that was nearby. Glancing at the gaggle of giggling girls surrounding the display, occasionally eyeing him and the other boys in the shop, Harry had a feeling that he would need to learn potion detection spells and fast. And probably research on antidotes as well. If Ginny was planning on buying a love potion ... Harry shuddered to think what other girls would do.

He joined them just in time to find out that Fred and George's generosity only extended to him and not to their little brother, even though they did give Ron a Knut's worth discount. Shaking his head and not understanding the dynamics of a sibling relationship, Harry bent to examine the little balls of fluff that the girls were making noises at. He personally didn't see what was so exciting about them. But he supposed that if the girls liked them and since they seemed to be in high demand according to Fred, they could be useful gift material.

After his mother had finished threatening to hex his fingers together, Ron chanced a glance out of the window to see Malfoy looking surreptitiously around him before ducking out of sight. Instantly suspicious he nudged Hermione and in hushed whispers explained what he had seen. He noticed that Harry hadn't seen Malfoy and, making a split decision, acted.

Harry watched with amusement as Ginny bought a purple Pygmy Puff and promptly named it Arnold.

'Arnold?' he asked her in amusement. 'I have to admit it's certainly an improvement over Pigwidgeon.'

Ginny looked around her, and seeing her brother occupied with Hermione leaned in and whispered, 'There is a reason I named Ron's owl that.'

Intrigued, Harry asked, 'And what reason is that Miss Weasley?'

'Oh to understand, you will have to look "Pigwidgeon" up in a dictionary.' She smirked as she saw his raised eyebrows, 'Trust me, it'll be more fun if you do it that way.'

Wrapped up in his conversation with Ginny, Harry was thus unaware of his surroundings, so he did not feel Ron's hand snake into his pocket where he had kept his Invisibility Cloak.

After talking to Ginny, he had taken a few steps forward to another of Fred and George's display when he felt the lightness in his left trouser pocket. Face suddenly white and heart thumping wildly, Harry felt for his Cloak only to find it gone. Suddenly feeling very cold, he searched frantically around the floor of the shop hoping that it had just fallen out of his pocket, his hands in his pockets feeling for the cloak that wasn't there.

Finally, just as he was beginning to think that he had lost the Cloak that was in his family for so many generations for good, Mrs. Weasley, who, along with the rest of the Weasleys was helping him search for the Cloak, noticed Ron and Hermione's absence. After that it was only a matter of seconds for everybody to come to the same conclusion.

And so when Ron appeared with Hermione at the shop a few minutes later, he found himself facing his mother in full sabre-toothed tiger mode with Ginny standing right next to her looking so much like her mother it wasn't funny. Gulping, Ron braced himself for a full blast of his mother's ire as Molly Weasley asked in a dangerous voice, 'Where. Were. You?'

Immediately Ron's hands tightened around Harry's cloak that he had behind his back while he thought of a suitable excuse.

'Erm, ah, I-I was at the back. W-with Hermione! We were looking at Fred and George's stuff. Didn't you see us?'

Instead of cooling down as he had hoped, the expression on his mother's face darkened even more till she was sporting a look that would have a normal sabre-toothed tiger running for the hills as she positively vibrated with rage. Ron watched with morbid fascination and a lot of dread as his mother seemed to inflate as she took a deep breath to unleash her wrath on her youngest son. He was only saved at the last minute when a hand belonging to his father landed on her shoulder. 'Not here Molly,' he whispered quietly into her ear while looking around at the people in the shop.

His mum exhaled loudly before nodding to his dad and Ron sighed in relief at the potential social disaster that was averted. He was sure that he wouldn't be able to live it down if his mother berated him in public. Then again, as he noticed the serious look on his father's face, he was definitely dead when he got home.

The extent of his fate was fully realised when Harry then came forward. Ron was used to being able to tell what his friend was feeling or thinking just by looking at his friend's expression or seeing the emotion expressed in his eyes. However, this time, Harry's face was completely void of emotion and his eyes, normally warm with expression were a pair of cold emeralds. 'Cloak,' was the only word he had said with his arm outstretched and his tone frigid, and Ron knew just then that the whole game was up. What was worse was that he had just been caught in a lie by his mother.

Gulping Ron quietly handed Harry his cloak back, not meeting his eyes. Thunderous expression still in place, Mrs. Weasley shepherded the group towards the front of the shop. On the way out Ron took a moment to notice that both his elder twin brothers had an alien expression of seriousness on their normally happy and mischievous faces.

They made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid bringing up the rear keeping a close eye on both Ron and Hermione.

The drive back was quiet but filled with a tension so thick that it had the Ministry driver looking for potential threats. Harry was carefully looking out of the window with a neutral expression. The only indicator of his feelings was the tenseness in his neck muscles and his stiff posture.

When they had reached the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had immediately lit into Ron as well as Hermione, though Ron got the worst of it. After spending fifteen minutes yelling till she was hoarse at their irresponsible actions, the questions came; what was Ron doing that was so important with Hermione, and where had he gone?

After a lot of stammering on Ron's part, the full story had come out. Apparently Ron had decided that somebody (he won't say who) was up to something and had decided to follow him into Knockturn Alley.

'So you mean to tell me that you followed a person who may or may not have been a Death Eater, into Knockturn Alley, the same Knockturn Alley that is reputed for selling all sorts of Dark items mind you, just because this mystery person was looking shifty?' said Mrs. Weasley with a tone of disbelief.

'How did you come to possess Harry's cloak?' Mr. Weasley suddenly asked Ron.

'Erm,' said Ron looking shiftier at that question as he cast around for a plausible story to explain just how he had that cloak.

'You took it from my pocket didn't you?' said Harry quietly. His soft voice cut through the room like a knife.

'Well, not exactly-'

'Then what exactly is it Ron?' cut in Mr. Weasley sternly. 'Because judging by Harry's reaction to finding his cloak missing and the way he was searching for it and then by you having it, I don't think I would be wrong in thinking that you took it without asking Harry's permission.' Seeing that he had guessed correctly he continued, 'Taking something from someone without asking them about it is stealing Ron! I cannot believe that you would do such a thing, much less from someone who is supposed to be your best mate!' He took a deep breath, pinching his nose under his glasses and closing his eyes.

'Right,' said Mr. Weasley opening his eyes and looking up at Ron steadily. 'You are grounded for the rest of the holiday. No flying on your broom and you will have to help your mother with the chores till then.' He waited for Ron's nod then addressing Hermione said, 'You too will be helping out as well. Unless you'd rather that we speak to your parents?' Seeing Hermione agree he turned back to his youngest son, 'Now that we have answered the matter of your disappearing into Knockturn Alley despite being strictly told not to, there is still the matter of you stealing as well as lying to your mother.' Mr. Weasley took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what was about to come before speaking, 'Go to your room, I will be there to deal with that soon.'

At that statement, Ron blanched while Mrs. Weasley inhaled sharply. The last time that her husband had said that to any of their sons was when Fred and George had tried to make Ron swear an Unbreakable Vow.

Sensing that things were over, Harry quietly retreated to his room. Setting down his purchases a bit harder than was warranted, he sunk down on the bed putting his head in his hands. Ron only had to ask for the Cloak and Harry would have gladly lent it to him. Growing up, Harry never had many possessions truly his own and he had come to cherish what he had, much like one of those mythical Dragons with their hoards of gold that he had read about a long time back (unknown to his friends, he still had a piece of his old Nimbus broom with him). The feeling was exacerbated thanks to his fat cousin. When they were younger, Dudley and his friends would relish in depriving Harry of his possessions. Often hiding them or putting them in hard to reach places.

While Harry had no problems in sharing things with his friends (since he never had that novelty of friends, much less the novelty of sharing things) he absolutely hated it when people tried to take his things away from him without his permission. It was partly the reason for him pursuing Umbridge the way he had.

But at least with Umbridge he knew what to expect, seeing as he knew where he stood with her. But for Ron, his best mate, to do such a thing? It stung deeply.

Never again he thought savagely. What Ron had done only strove to drive home a point that Harry had learnt the hard way growing up (and to his chagrin, forgotten in the last few years). People cannot be trusted, and it was up to Harry to ensure that they couldn't take advantage of him again. Dumbledore had done the same thing to Harry too (interestingly it involved the Cloak as well) and now in lieu of Ron doing the same thing, Harry came to a decision; It would not happen again.

Thinking thus, Harry dove into his trunk and retrieved a book on wards he had taken from the Potter Family vault. Judging by some of the wards he had seen in the book earlier, Harry had come to two conclusions; firstly, the Potters were an intensely private family, and secondly, they really liked using some really obscure wards that, if the book was right, were only known to members of the family.

Looking through some of the wards detailed there, Harry cast a few basic ones on his trunk. He would only be able to do the more complicated ones after some classes in Arithmancy and Runes. What little he could cast was based off his self taught knowledge on the subjects.

His wards set, he sent a note to Madame Malkin if she could include those extra charms on his robes that she was talking about which would prevent pickpockets taking advantage of him. He would set about the difficult task of enchanting his current wardrobe against thievery on his own. The process was rather tiresome since it required a lot of magic, and would last till September. He would research other more permanent ways to ward his clothes at Hogwarts. If Madame Malkin can do it, so can he!

Arthur Weasley didn't like to punish his children, and as a result had left most of the disciplining up to Molly. However, Ron's actions had made his involvement necessary. Arthur hated thievery of any sort, and what Ron had done had angered him in more ways than he could imagine. Arthur had always tried to be honourable in his dealings and as honest as possible. It was his work ethic and the reputation that his family had won for being as open and honest as possible (despite being called Blood-Traitors) that was a matter of pride for him. He sighed as he got into bed next to his wife. He hoped that he never had to do such a thing again.

The next few days had Harry being rather distant with his friends. He would've forgiven them readily had they not been rather tight lipped about what it was they were doing when they had made off with his cloak. Ron had initially given him an explanation saying that he had followed Malfoy into Knockturn Alley since he was sure that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

Harry snorted at that; Malfoy wasn't of much significance. He was only an arrogant ponce who used his daddy's name and depended on the teachers (more specifically Snape) and his thuggish bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle to get things done. Voldemort would be really desperate to recruit him! Also, with the possible exception of the seventh years, making a Hogwarts student a Death Eater was too much of a risk with little benefits. He already had Snape in the school, he didn't need another spy. Placing another spy would suggest that Voldemort no longer trusted Snape. And when Voldemort has doubts about a person, that person does not last long. And Voldemort makes sure that the whole world knows of that fact. Since there hadn't been any reports of the mutilated body of a greasy Hogwarts professor being found, Harry knew Snape was still trusted. Other than spying on the school and its headmaster, Harry couldn't think of any use in having a Death Eater in the school. And a student Death Eater especially wouldn't be of much use. He or she would be under constant scrutiny by the teachers, Filch, Dumbledore, Mrs. Norris, Filch, the Portraits, Filch, the ghosts, and Filch to get anything done.

Besides, if it really was Malfoy they had gone after, then why not include Harry in the whole escapade also? No, there was a reason that Ron had decided to take Harry's cloak like that.

Eventually in a week's time, Harry had gotten around to forgiving them. It was partly because that he felt that Ron had gotten punished well enough, if the fact that he preferred to stand the next few days was any indication. He no longer cared for what Ron and Hermione had done together under his cloak anymore. After all, it wasn't as if he didn't have any secrets of his own.

At the same time, that did not mean that he would stop his efforts to protect his possessions from people willing to steal them. For Harry trust was an issue and once broken, it took a lot to regain that trust.

As she was washing the dishes, Hermione did some thinking. Some of Mr. Weasley's words to Ron had really hit home. It got her thinking about the meeting she and Ron had with Professor Dumbledore, when he had offered them money for looking out for Harry. At first the idea seemed brilliant. Here she was getting paid for the one thing she would be doing anyway for free. And while Hermione's parents were well off, she couldn't help but think that the amount of books she bought along with her education was putting a strain on her parents' finances. The fact of the matter was that her parents were earning in Pounds but she was spending in Galleons, a stronger currency. This way, she felt that she would be able to reduce the stress put upon her parents' finances by pulling her weight. So it was quite easy for Hermione to ignore the imagined disappointment she had seen in Professor Dumbledore's eyes when she and Ron had said yes.

It was now that Hermione realised what a mistake she had made. She was basically getting paid to be Harry's friend. Shouldn't looking out for her best friend be something she should be willing to do without the need for recompense?

After all, Harry had literally risked life and limb many times for his friends (herself included) without expecting anything in return. So why should she and Ron accept money or any other incentive for looking out for their friend? Didn't friends look out for each other voluntarily?

Hermione felt ashamed at her actions. While it was true that Professor Dumbledore had offered her the money and that he was technically the adult in the situation, she still should have known better. Well, she decided, that won't happen ever again. The first thing she would do when term started would be to meet Professor Dumbledore and give back that money.

She also resolved to talk to Ron about it as well. Thinking on it now, she figured that Professor Dumbledore was testing her. It truly upset her to know that she had failed the first time.

It was a small consolation that she hadn't fully failed the headmaster or her friend.

Never again, she thought. She would never fail her friend like that again. It was a good thing that Harry didn't know about this. She was sure that the knowledge would probably end their relationship.

Ron didn't regret his decision to take Harry's cloak in Diagon Alley. It was after all for a noble cause. The chance to get to know what Malfoy was up to was even worth the punishment afterwards, though he did not wish to face his father's wrath again. Fred certainly wasn't exaggerating when he said that his left buttock never felt the same. It really was too bad that he hadn't found out exactly what Malfoy was after.

Oh well, the next day they were going to be heading to Hogwarts. Malfoy would be there in the school, right where Ron can keep an eye on him. He refused to let You-Know-Who get his way this time, or (if Ron had a say in it) ever again till the day Harry managed to complete the prophecy and finish Him off.

Authors Notes:

Well here we are ... Chapter eleven!

1. About the concealable Dark Mark; Well, JK never did say that the Mark was visible to everybody at all times ... my theory is that the Mark fades within a few days into the skin but can only be seen by another person with the Mark ... cause face it, how stupid would you have to be to put a tattoo in such a freaking obvious place? Voldemort may be insane, but he isn't stupid ... otherwise, it would be more than easy to lock up the Death Eaters ... just make short sleeves compulsory at the ministry, or check everyone's forearms ... it does not take a genius to figure it out.
Hagrid had said that you never knew who was a Death Eater and who wasn't in the first war ... at the same time everybody knew what the Dark Mark looked like and who used it ... so it cannot be that the average wizard does not know what that snazzy tattoo on the left forearm of his/her friend/colleague/amorous lover represents ... so conclusion; the Dark Mark on the Death Eaters arms has to be concealable unless Voldemort is calling them or they activate it ... that would account for non Death Eaters who didn't have a special connection to Voldemort seeing it ...

2. Historitated Initials; well those are really cool ... Google them ... it's worth it!

12. Back to School

Ron and Hermione spent the last few days agonising over what Malfoy was up to. They were careful to ensure that Harry did not hear a word of that discussion along with other members in the Burrow. As a result of which, they would often disappear alone together, something that Harry and Ginny had noticed but paid scant attention to. Harry for one had better things to do with his time and every moment they were busy with each other was time he could do whatever he wanted to do without their notice. Of course there still was Ginny, but as she had spent most of the summer writing to Dean or visiting Luna Lovegood, it meant that Harry had all the time to do whatever he chose to do. All he had to do was ensure that he had a plausible alibi. Something he took great pains in ensuring.

He also hung around with Bill a lot. It had started out with Bill tutoring him in Runes and Arithmancy, as Bill knew a lot of the subjects due to his profession. It then grew from there to include lessons in unarmed combat since Bill thought that Harry should know how to throw a punch effectively. Eventually he and Harry had built a rapport between them till Harry almost looked to Bill as a sort of older brother. The resulting roughhousing and wrestling that the two did as a result of the sparring matches furthered this relationship.

When Bill wasn't around, Fleur certainly could be found in the Burrow. While she did not stay at the house (preferring to stay at her intended's flat) she would always be around during the day to help around the house, much to Mrs. Weasley's immense displeasure. Since Mrs. Weasley didn't have much work (or wasn't willing to let Fleur do anything in the house) that left Fleur with a lot of free time. Something she used to spend with her fellow Triwizard champion, giving him lessons in French and supplementing Bill's lessons in Runes and Arithmancy. While Fleur wasn't as knowledgeable as Bill, she was no slouch. And Harry certainly wasn't complaining. He knew she was taken, but it did not hurt to look...

All in all by the time the first of September came around, Harry had a better understanding of Runes and Arithmancy than the books could give him, along with a passing understanding of French. While Harry wasn't exactly a savant du Française, (in fact, he was complete pants at it) he still knew enough to say a few sentences ... or fake complete knowledge of the language, depending on the person (girl) he was talking to. Though the one thing he had picked up with complete proficiency was how to swear in French, much to Fleur's bemusement.

On the morning of the first, Harry was the first person out with his trunk packed and owl cage placed neatly on top with said owl in the cage. He was shortly joined by Mrs. Weasley along with the rest of his friends.

'Good to see that you had packed well in advance Harry dear,' said Mrs. Weasley. 'At least you did not leave it till the last minute.' She cast a subtle glance at Ron who completely missed the barb.

Harry just smiled in response. He had his trunk packed rather neatly by one of his elves, but did not see the wisdom in telling Mrs. Weasley that.

Bill and Fleur came out just as the Ministry cars glided to a stop in front of the Burrow.

'Au revoir 'Arry,' said Fleur throatily as she kissed Harry on both his cheeks. Because he was in her presence for so long, that only brought about a hint of colour on Harry's face. 'I look forward to meeting you again. Perhaps I will be able to teach you how to properly speak Française without sounding like an imbécile, no?'

'I doubt that, but I look forward to it regardless,' said Harry with a broad grin.

'Take care, Harry,' said Bill slapping his back. He took out a book from the pocket of his robes and surreptitiously gave it to Harry. 'A copy of a list of all the spells that I have found in my travels abroad,' he explained. 'You will also find some good wards in there as well. I hope you find it useful!'

'Wow, thanks Bill,' said Harry awed at the gift he was being given.

'It was no problem Harry. I have a feeling that you will put it to good use. Just ... take care of yourself, all right?' replied Bill gruffly.

Their moment was interrupted by a loud thud followed by a pained and indignant 'Oi!' Looking down, Harry saw that Ron was sprawled on the ground.

'Alright there mate?' he asked him as he helped his friend on his feet.

Ron just mumbled something unintelligible as he hurriedly got into the car, the tips of his ears red and his clothes dirty. Harry noticed a triumphant smirk on Ginny's face giving him an idea of what had happened. Rolling his eyes, Harry said a final goodbye to Bill and Fleur before getting inside.

'Hurry up Arthur,' called out Mrs. Weasley.

'Coming,' said Mr. Weasley as he closed the front door. He got into the car at the front along with his wife and Ginny.

And they were off in what was one of the best and smoothest departures to the station in Mrs. Weasley's opinion. Something she hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing since ... well, since before the twins' first year at school.

As they reached the station, they were met by a pair of grim faced Aurors dressed in business suits that were waiting for them with the luggage trolleys. Moving with efficiency, the Auror guard quickly escorted them toward the barrier between platforms nine and ten.

'All right,' said Mrs. Weasley nervously, slightly off balance in the face of such cold efficiency. 'Ron, you and Harry go on first with one of the Aurors. After that Hermione goes in with Ginny. We'll follow shortly after that with the remaining Auror. Is that OK?' She addressed the last part to the pair of Aurors.

The first Auror, a bearded fellow slightly shorter than Harry nodded silently and grabbed Harry's arm above the elbow. Harry immediately extricated his arm from his grasp 'I don't think that is necessary, I am quite capable of defending myself and holding my arm is going to hamper both our movements if something does happen. However, if something does happen I promise to stick with you,' he told the Auror politely but firmly.

At this the Auror gave another nod with a look of approval on his face and set off towards the barrier with Harry following close behind.

Once everybody had crossed through, they set off towards the train. Quickly finding an empty compartment, they hefted their trunks and cages onto the luggage rack and hopped back out, where, after enduring another round of Mrs. Weasley's stifling hugs, they said their final goodbyes.

The train started moving in a few minutes while they were still out in the passageway. 'Well, Ron and I have to go to the front, since, you know, we're prefects.' Hermione said awkwardly after a few moments of silence. She then proceeded to drag a reluctant looking Ron to the front with a 'we'll see you later Harry,' thrown over her shoulder.

Ginny then took her leave, meeting up with her friends from her year. Harry just stared at her slightly surprised while standing alone in the passageway. It had completely slipped his mind that Ginny was a year below him and had friends of her own. Shaking his head he made his way to the compartment he had found earlier, making sure that nobody saw how irritated he was becoming at the staring.

And indeed people were staring at him. Although it was different this time since most people did not recognise him at first glance. Though it did not take them long to recognise him. Harry quickly made his way into the compartment all the while trying to ignore the dreamy stares the girls were sending his way, bumping into Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood on the way.

'Neville, Luna! How's tricks?' said Harry, a broad grin on his face greeting them as he led them into his compartment.

'Hey Harry,' said Neville shaking hands with him. 'You've grown,' he said as he noted the sudden height difference between the two.

'Yeah, about time if you ask me,' replied Harry. Sitting down he asked them how their summers had been. To this Neville eagerly showed him the new wand his grandmother had bought him to replace the old one that belonged to his father and had recently broken in the ministry just a few scant months back. Harry couldn't believe that it had been such a short time back. It certainly felt like a lifetime away.

'Hi Luna, how are you?'

'I'm fine, thank you very much,' said Luna

'Hey, what happened to your glasses Harry?' Neville asked his friend. This question was followed by a harrowing tale that left the shy pureblood questioning his friend's sanity.

As Neville tried to digest that and not throw up, he heard giggling coming from Luna. Turning around and watching her, he hoped that she had found something funny in the issue of the Quibbler that she was reading. The alternative was too scary to think about.

'The Quibbler going strong then?' said Harry as he noticed the paper the girl was holding. He had developed a fondness for the magazine ever since it had supported him the previous year.

'Oh yes, circulation's gone up,' said Luna happily behind a pair of psychedelic glasses that she had just put on that judging by the cover of the magazine were a pair of spectraspecs and had come with that issue of the Quibbler.

Just then Neville was distracted as Trevor made his customary bid for freedom. 'Oi, come back here Trevor!' he said as he dived under the seats in order to retrieve his toad.

As Neville was busy retrieving his toad, Luna inquired about the DA. Harry did not see it continuing this year as they no longer had Umbridge. Upon mentioning Umbridge, Neville popped back up wondering about what had really happened to the woman. He had seen her a few weeks back, mumbling to herself when he had gone to visit his parents. Harry fought to keep a silly grin from appearing on his face.

'It's too bad that you aren't continuing the DA this year Harry,' said Neville looking disappointed and getting back to the topic. 'I learnt loads thanks to you!'

Harry blushed slightly at this. 'I didn't do much Neville. You had the talent. All you needed was some help to bring it out,' he said earnestly.

'That may be true, but I think you sell yourself short mate. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have got an O in my O.W.L.s. Now if you don't mind, I need to get Trevor back.' With that Neville disappeared back under the seat.

'I liked the DA, it was like having friends,' said Luna serenely.

This was one of those uncomfortable things Luna said that had Harry feeling a mixture of embarrassment and pity. Before he could respond however, there was a disturbance outside the door that turned out to be a bunch of fourth-year girls giggling loudly and whispering to each other.

Eventually they had reached a decision as a bold-looking girl with large dark eyes and a prominent chin declared loudly, 'I'll do it,' and entered the compartment.

'Hi Harry,' she said loudly. 'I'm Romilda, Romilda Vane. Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them,' she said the last in a stage whisper, indicating Neville's bottom that was sticking out from under the seat and at Luna who was looking like a rather demented owl wearing her spectraspecs.

Harry gave a lazy look at Romilda and her giggling band of girls who blushed at his gaze and made a show of regarding Neville who had emerged out from the seat and Luna who was looking at the whole thing serenely before speaking.

'Why don't I have to sit with them?' he asked Romilda. 'Here,' he gestured at Neville with a wide sweeping motion of his hand, 'is the bloke who looked at Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort's most feared Death Eater in the eye, and spat in her face! And that was after she cast the Cruciatus Curse on him! Hell, he didn't even make a sound when she cast the Unforgiveable on him! And that,' he gestured at Luna with the same sweeping motions looking very much like an actor in a courtroom drama, 'is a girl who fought Jugson, Dolohov, the three Lestranges, Nott, Crabbe, Rookwood, Mulciber, Avery, Macnair and Lucius Malfoy, and came out of the whole thing without even a scratch! Why wouldn't I want to hang out with them? Hell, the question you should be asking is, "why are they sitting with me?"' Harry finished with a flourish, deliberately not looking at Neville's face as it got redder and redder.

'Oh I don't know Harry,' said Neville wryly regaining his composure. 'It may have something with you being the guy who not only faced all of those people, but also the person whom they follow as well.'

'I guess you have a point there,' said Harry pretending to think about it.

'Um, I think we should be going now,' said a slightly dazed Romilda Vane. She and the other girls made a hasty retreat, not before the other girls gave both the boys an awed look.

As soon as the door closed behind the last giggling girl, Harry burst out laughing. 'That was brilliant mate!' he said to Neville.

Neville on the other hand was looking rather shocked with himself. 'I-I can't believe I said all that,' he said in wonder, obviously surprised at his sudden bout of confidence.

'Well, I do believe you said it. I was there, I heard it,' said Harry. 'You just have to believe in yourself Neville. You have the potential. You did face down a dozen Death Eaters after all.' Neville turned pink at the praise, clearly not used to it.

'Yes, but I don't remember looking Bellatrix in the eye and spitting in her face.' He said slowly.

'Yeah, that was bound to happen; you always did have a dodgy memory.' Harry quipped, smiling to take the sting out of his words. 'It must have been the Cruciatus curse she cast on you that made you forget.'

Neville smiled weakly at the joke, 'I also distinctly remember screaming my head off when she put that curse on me. It hurt that curse.' His body winced in remembered pain, 'I don't want to feel that again!'

'Details, details,' said Harry dismissively. 'I know that you screamed you know that you screamed, and so do Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters, but they don't. Well, Luna knows too now, but she's too nice to say otherwise, aren't you Luna?'

'Of course Harry!' said Luna sounding slightly excited at being included in things.

'There you go! Seeing as I'm the only credible witness and Bellatrix and the Death Eaters aren't going to be talking, people will have to believe me! After all, they know that I have been telling the truth for a whole year.'

Harry's words had Neville shaking his head and chuckling, 'You've changed a lot Harry, in a good way I think. It definitely beats the moody, specky git of last year.'

'I aim to please,' said Harry with a smirk. He considered saying a bit more, but decided against it. He didn't know Neville that long to get all deep and emotional. He didn't even do that with Ron. Then again, Ron did have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Instead, Harry changed the topic to the O.W.L.s which carried the conversation along.

Neville was wondering about his chances of making it into N.E.W.T. Transfiguration with his current scores when Ron and Hermione entered the compartment looking rather tired.

From what he could glean from them, it seemed that the prefects were going to be getting more responsibility due to the threat now represented by Lord Voldemort. Listening to the added responsibilities that the prefects had, Harry did not envy Ron and Hermione. He was glad that he wasn't a prefect, since it seemed that they now had their work cut out for them.

Looking out of the window Harry idly observed the weather outside. It was rather spotty today, being mainly cloudy with a hint of rain while the sun making a brief appearance now and then. He would be having a rather busy year this time. He would need to explore the Chamber of Secrets and hopefully find out what Salazar Slytherin had left his descendants. If the basilisk was in a decent enough condition, he also would need to see to rendering it into potions ingredients, to sell or perhaps use for himself. Also on his list of things to do was to find a way to get that sword from Dumbledore's office. He doubted the headmaster would just give it to him and didn't want to ask in case it made the man put up more security around the artefact. Asking would also lead to questions that Harry did not want to answer at this point.

Another long term goal was getting to know Daphne better. Harry grimaced at this; the girl was amusing, but pretty frosty. Though he had faced Voldemort, a Hungarian Horntail, a thousand year old basilisk and more importantly survived a relationship with Cho Chang. Daphne couldn't be any worse.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a timid knock on the door. Ron opened the door to reveal a nervous looking third year girl. Harry mentally sighed oh great, another fan girl wanting the "Chosen One" to sit with her, he thought.

'Yes, how may we help you?' Hermione asked the intimidated girl kindly.

'I have a note for Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter from Professor Slughorn,' said the girl nervously stuttering out Harry's name as she looked at him.

Harry took his note from her and thanked the girl, using her name which he found out via Legilimency, causing her to blush deeply before scurrying away at top speed. Shaking his head in silent amusement, he gave Neville his note and opened his to read.

'What does it say?' came Ron's voice suddenly, as he leaned forward in an attempt to read the letter in Harry's hands.

Harry immediately jerked away from Ron and fixed the redhead with a glare, irritated with his interference.

Before the situation could become tense, Neville interjected in a nervous and slightly perplexed voice, 'Who is Professor Slughorn, and what does he want me for?' Engrossed in the letter he completely missed the glare Harry had sent Ron for poking his nose in.

'New teacher,' said Harry shrugging. 'I guess we have to go since he did call us.'

With that, Harry and Neville rose and saying their goodbyes left for compartment C.

Entering it, Harry saw that he and Neville weren't the only guests, though if Slughorn's greeting was anything to go by, Harry was the most anticipated. There were two seventh years one of whom Harry was sure was in his house, a brief mental scan told Harry their names, though one of them, Cormac McLaggen had decent defences. Harry barely escaped notice from them; fortunately Cormac wasn't good at pinpointing passive Legilimency. Along with that were Susan Bones and a tall black boy in Harry's year with long slanting eyes. Harry also spied Ginny Weasley who had an expression on her face that gave the impression that she was still trying to figure out how she had ended up in the compartment to begin with.

'Harry! How are you?' said Susan.

'Susan,' Harry smiled warmly. 'I hope you're well?'

Harry sat down in the closest available space next to Susan while Neville sat down opposite him next to the tall dark skinned Slytherin boy who Harry remembered was called Blaise Zabini.

As he had the delicious food that Slughorn had procured for this little soiree, Harry watched his peers interact with Slughorn with fascination; as he had suspected, the people seated around him all were related in some form or another to someone influential whom Slughorn invariably knew. Harry quickly came to the realisation that most of the time it was what was unsaid that had more significance than what was said as he noted how Slughorn subtly let it be known that Marcus Belby wasn't that important to him after finding out that he wasn't that close to his uncle. Harry privately thought that it was a bit stupid of Belby to have said outright that he had no contact with his uncle. Harry found himself thinking that were he in Belby's place, he would have probably been vague enough to insinuate a relationship instead of being so ... blunt. Though perhaps Belby's honesty would have prevented a complication in the future? Harry really wasn't sure...

McLaggen was mildly interesting since he seemed to be rather close to the head of the Aurors and what sounded like two other important sounding wizards. That explained his rudimentary proficiency with Occlumency. Zabini on the other hand really made Harry nervous. From what Harry had heard, his mother was either really unfortunate, really lucky, or as he suspected, quite well versed in arranging accidental deaths. He had no idea what she had taught her son, and hoped he wouldn't have to find out the hard way.

Harry was careful to keep his expression blank as Slughorn commented about the failed attack on Amelia Bones when he was talking to Susan while fishing for information about the mysterious informant that had tipped off the Minister. Although his sources were clearly good since he somehow knew that Susan was the one who had obtained that information in the first place. Susan however, remained tight-lipped about the whole thing.

After what could be arguably counted as the most uncomfortable ten minutes of Neville's life, it was finally Harry's turn. Slughorn took a minute to eye Harry as if he were a particularly succulent piece of pheasant before beginning a three minute monologue on Harry's life gaining the attention of all the other occupants in the room with the exception of Ginny and Neville. Harry listened to that without comment; he was more than content to let his achievements do the talking for him. Besides, there really wasn't much to say.

When Ginny had opened her mouth to make a really scathing comment towards Zabini, Harry found out that not all of those gathered were selected for their relations. Apparently Slughorn had caught Ginny pasting another student with a Bat Bogey Hex by the sound of it, and had been suitably impressed. It gave Harry some hope; Slughorn certainly could recognise talent and power when he saw it. Of course, the new professor was more impressed with Ginny and Neville after he had found out that they were also involved in that fiasco in the Ministry.

The afternoon wore on with Slughorn giving anecdote after anecdote about the different people he had influenced, taught or knew well. The professor only stopped when he noticed that it had become rather late. Bidding everyone a goodbye, he sent them off with invitations to come around sometime whenever they felt like it. Belby, predictably, didn't get one.

As they exited, Zabini gave Harry a filthy look that Harry returned in earnest unconsciously making his eyes flash an intense green, unnerving the Slytherin. Turning his head away in an obvious dismissal and not noticing how he had startled the Slytherin, Harry asked Ginny, 'So, how did you end up there?'

'He saw me hex Zacharias Smith, you know that idiot from Hufflepuff in the DA last year? He was annoying me and kept on and on asking about what happened at the Ministry till he annoyed me so much I hexed him,' explained Ginny. 'That's when Slughorn came in. I thought I was going to be put in detention but got invited to lunch instead.'

Ginny parted ways leaving Harry, Susan and Neville to make their way to their respective compartments which they spent in idle chitchat.

Half an hour later, the students hopped off the train as it reached Hogsmeade station. Spotting Hagrid, who by then had all the nervous first-years gathered around him like a swarm of flies around an elephant, Harry made his way towards the first person who had revealed to him the world where he truly belonged.

'Hey Hagrid, how are you?' he called out. Noticing that the half giant seemed distracted, Harry got closer to him and asked, 'what's wrong?'

'Harry! Glad yer came! Listen, I have a favour to ask of yeh,' while saying this, Hagrid looked anxiously towards the forest.

Noticing where he was looking, Harry became nervous, 'Um I don't think I can help you here Hagrid right now ... what with the feast and all ... besides the forest is forbidden and after last year, I doubt that the centaurs like me anymore ... perhaps in the morning?' going in the forest was bad enough. Going at night by himself and completely alone was downright stupid to the point of being suicidal. Memories of Aragog and his merry family of giant spiders came vividly to Harry's mind.

'Oh I don't want yer to go in teh forest Harry!' Hagrid chuckled nonchalantly, 'Nah, I want teh ask somethin' else.'

Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or worried at this. Hagrid may not want him to go to the forest, but that didn't mean that it would be completely safe. So it was with a lot of trepidation that Harry asked, 'What is it?'

'Well,' said Hagrid, as he scratched his beard nervously. 'I have summat to do in teh forest. Only I have ter get this lot 'ere across teh lake and ter Pr'fessor McGonagall.' he indicated the first-years that were too busy looking around and being nervous to focus on what the big frightening hairy man was saying. 'So I was wondering if yeh didn't mind doing that.'

It took some time for that to sink into Harry's mind, 'What? You mean take the Firsties across the lake and to McGonagall?' he asked incredulously. Suddenly, the Forest didn't seem so bad after all.

'Eh, yeah, so yeh'll do it?' asked Hagrid hopefully, completely missing the incredulity in Harry's tone.

'Why not ask a prefect? After all, aren't they supposed to be doing that?'

'Well, yeah, bu' yer a captain now Harry! Tha' should be good enough. 'Sides, we're teh on'y ones left 'ere' said Hagrid, indicating the now empty platform to a rather surprised Harry.

Harry saw the last carriage trundle off in resignation and a bit of irritation, couldn't his friends at least have waited. Unless he wanted to walk to the castle, or volunteer to go to the forest, he really didn't have much of a choice now. 'Fine Hagrid,' he said as he eyed the first-years warily. The stories he had been told about them from Ron last year hadn't really appealed them to him. Then again, he had faced down Basilisks, Dragons, Dementors, Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. A bunch of tetchy snot nosed little moppets should be easy.

'Good man Harry!' said Hagrid as he patted Harry on the back making the teen stumble a few steps forward. The half-giant then quickly headed towards the trees that marked the beginning of the Forbidden Forest, leaving Harry alone with a bunch of nervous and slightly curious eleven year olds.

Harry sized up the first-years in front of him. There was no way he was that small at eleven! The little buggers were positively tiny! He was sure that a few of them were actually nine and had faked their age to get in earlier.

'Alright you lot, settle down,' said Harry taking charge quieting the first-years. Seeing that he had their attention, he cleared his throat and continued, 'Right, so since Hagrid won't be able to take you to the school, he has asked me to do so instead. My name is Harry Potter by the way.' Hearing the gasps and whispers among some of the students, he rolled his eyes in exasperation and irritably said, 'Yes, yes, I'm the Harry Potter, I have the scar, and I defeated Voldemort when I was a baby. I also am here to take you to the castle, so if you'd stop gawking, we could move on.'

Immediately a hand was raised, 'Please sir, how will we be going to Hogwarts?' asked a little girl who Harry was sure was actually nine.

'First and foremost, it's just Harry. Not "Sir" or "Mr. Potter",' said an amused Harry the little buggers can be rather cute, he thought. 'And secondly,' his eyes narrowed as he looked at the snobbish looking boy next to the girl, 'nobody is expected to swim the lake, and if you don't watch your mouth, you will be the one swimming it!' He had heard what the brat had told her and was not amused by it.

The kid immediately shut up, though he was looking rather mutinous. Hearing the muttered 'I'll tell,' Harry replied, 'Go ahead. I'd love to tell Professor McGonagall what you told her.'

'Father says that Professor McGonagall is all bark and no bite.' The kid shot back with a tone that reminded Harry of Draco Malfoy.

'Is that so?' Harry crouched down to the first-year's level. 'Well then I have a funny story to tell you.' he said conversationally, 'you see, in my fourth year, I saw Professor McGonagall turn a ferret back into a student. Now the funny thing is that same student was being bounced up and down the hallways before being turned back. I'm sure Professor McGonagall would love to hear about your opinion of her. I believe that she is rather partial to cats. Maybe, just maybe, if she is in a good mood, she might turn you into a white fluffy little kitten and give you to the girls to play with. Who knows, they might even tie a bow on your head and put you in a cute little dress! You'd love that won't you?'

Harry smirked as he saw the snot's face turn white. Satisfied he had cowed him, he addressed the whole group, 'Now come on, follow me.' Turning around, he saw that it was rather dark. A quick glance at the first-years revealed that they were beginning to get scared with the darkness surrounding them. Either that or they were still scared witless of Professor McGonagall.

Deciding to break the tension, Harry told them all to take their wands out and taught them the Lumos spell. He smiled at the look of delight on their faces as they all managed their first piece of magic. Turning around Harry pointed his wand at his hand and not thinking of any happy memories, silently cast 'Expecto Patronum.' Harry had read about the Patronus charm in the summer and the book had also explained the other uses of a Patronus. It could be used to send private messages almost instantly, and in addition to that, when cast on the palm without any happy memories to fuel it, the Patronus engulfed the hand in the form of ethereal, heatless, silvery flames which could be used as a light. Harry remembered seeing Remus use it before in the Hogwarts Express in third year and wished that his father's friend had thought to teach him that as well. It looked pretty brill. The first-years definitely seemed to agree as they gave little gasps of awe.

Smirking Harry led them down the path and to the lake. Even though he had gone to Hogwarts for five years now and was starting his penultimate year here, the sight of the old majestic castle perched upon the cliff still moved him the same way it had when he had first seen it in his first year. Harry fully appreciated the reason why the first-years were taken through the lake. The view was pretty stunning.

By the time he had all the little snots in their boats with their wands extinguished, Harry was violently cursing Hagrid under his breath and wondering how on earth he ended up in these situations. First, the man made him a smuggler, what with that illegal dragon that he had to get rid of. Then, if that wasn't enough, he was then pressed into service as the man's assistant as he hunted for a creature smart enough, fast enough and evil enough to kill unicorns in the dead of the night in the Forbidden Forest who turned out to be the most evil Dark Lord of modern magical history. All because he was caught after having smuggled said dragon. You'd think Hagrid would have been a bit more appreciative of that and let them off easy? Though, knowing him, the man probably thought the whole thing was a treat.

Then in second year, he had to be the man's investigative journalist and socialise with his "friends" who happened to be a colony of giant hairy man eating spiders. It was a good thing he didn't have to actually babysit and teach Hagrid's "little" brother English under Umbridge's nose (he had already done the "mercenary teacher" bit with the DA). Now he had a bunch of little hellions to manage. By the time they had reached the boats, some of the little snots had managed to regain their courage and were chattering away, asking Harry all sorts of questions about himself, driving him spare with their high pitched voices. Eventually Harry had to threaten to feed the nosiest one to the giant squid to get the tetchy little buggers to shut up.

It took a few minutes for Harry to work the boats, since Hagrid had forgotten to tell him how to work them. Harry really was thankful that he had a boat to himself. Otherwise, the school would have four less students, since he would be on his way to Azkaban for having murdered three first-years. Some of them especially were rather mouthy. One in particular just wouldn't shut up, reminding Harry of Colin Creevey and his brother Dennis. He was silently thankful of the boy next to that talkative one for having kept him in conversation throughout the whole boat trip.

Leading them to the front doors, Harry knocked as hard as he could on the oak front doors, figuring that it was a part of tradition as well.

'You are rather late Hagrid, I was ...' Professor McGonagall trailed off as she saw not Hagrid standing in front of her as expected when she opened the door, but Harry Potter. 'Mr. Potter?' she asked, slightly surprised at seeing him there.

'The first-years, Professor McGonagall,' Harry said drily, indicating said first-years that were clustered behind him thoroughly enjoying the look of stunned disbelief on her face. Minerva wasn't sure, but she thought she had heard a few gasps from the first-years when her name was mentioned.

'Where's Hagrid, Mr. Potter?' she asked.

'Well Professor, Hagrid had a matter to attend to in the forest, so he decided to have me take them,' said Harry brightly. Minerva just sighed in response, That man, she thought. Quickly regaining her posture, she said briskly, 'thank you Mr. Potter. Ten points to Gryffindor for helping out around the school. Now hurry along. I'll take it from here.' She did not notice the worried looks that the first-years were giving her or the slightly pleading ones that were sent to Harry almost begging him to stay with them.

Leading them into the antechamber, she gave them her standard lecture about the houses and the point system. Absently noting that this seemed to be the most polite and quiet batch of new first-years, she left to get the sorting hat.

Before Harry walked into the packed Great Hall, he activated his necklace which gave him enough time to walk to the Gryffindor table and sit with his friends before he was noticed. He was halfway there when Ron, who was the first one to notice him missing and was anxiously searching for Harry, was the first to break through the charm and see Harry walking towards them.

In his relief, he blurted out rather loudly, 'Bloody hell Harry! Where were you?' That immediately got the attention of everyone else in the vicinity, fully deactivating the charm on the necklace for the moment.

Not breaking stride, Harry just smiled and said, 'I took the scenic route Ron.' Sitting down next to Ron, he softly told his two friends why he had taken so long.

Ron just winced in sympathy and said, 'Better you than me mate. I have enough of taking care of those midgets to want to bring them across the lake.'

'Well, I think that it was rather responsible of you Harry,' said Hermione giving Ron a glare. Before the red head could retort, Professor McGonagall entered with the first-years saving Harry along with the rest of the nearby Gryffindors from a rousing round of yet another of their arguments.

Harry barely listened to the Sorting Hat's song. Just like last year, it called out for unity between all four houses and warned of dark times approaching and Harry found his attention wandering towards other things. He soon realised that many at his table and at the other house tables were either blatantly or discreetly staring at him. Most of them were girls who were giving him rather dreamy looks. Harry just looked back with a casual smile on his face, occasionally winking at the more blatant ones. Seeing them blush and turn away, he snorted to himself. This was definitely more effective than his usual tactic of trying to ignore them. Who knows, he might get in some of their knickers if he played his cards right.

'Evans, Mark,' McGonagall's voice drifted in bringing Harry out of his musing. Harry looked on as the kid who seemed to be rather close to the one Harry had dubbed Colin II on the boat come up and put the hat on his head. That name sounded rather familiar...

'GRYFFINDOR!' shouted the hat. Harry clapped with the others as Mark Evans made his way over and sat ... right next to Colin II. Harry silently cursed. Just what I need, he thought.

As the sorting drew to a close, Harry waited impatiently for Dumbledore to start the feast. Judging by the sounds coming from Ron's stomach, he wasn't the only one. 'There is a time for words, and this is not it,' said Dumbledore, and as he sat down, the food appeared on the table.

'We seemed to have a rather large batch of new Gryffindors this year,' Nearly Headless Nick commented from across the table and next to Neville. 'In fact I think that Gryffindor has taken a majority of the first-years.'

Harry swallowed his food and looked over to where the first-years were sitting. Sure enough there were quite a few of the moppets sitting there. Shrugging, Harry returned back to his food. A few minutes later he noticed Hagrid slip into the Great Hall and sit beside Professor McGonagall. Harry grinned at him as Hagrid waved while McGonagall gave the half giant a disapproving look. Hagrid really was in for it the minute he was alone with McGonagall. Of that Harry was sure.

As soon as the feast was over, Dumbledore stood up and spread his arms wide as he greeted the students, almost immediately drawing attention of all present to his blackened hand.

'What happened to his hand?' said Hermione slightly nauseated as Dumbledore calmly covered the appendage with his sleeve and airily brush the injury aside as whispers broke out throughout the hall.

'It was like that when I saw him last,' Harry whispered back as Dumbledore let it be known that Filch definitely did keep up with times as far as joke items were concerned. 'I thought he'd have had it cured by now.'

'It looks as if it's died ... and there are some injuries that you can't cure ... old curses, poisons without antidotes...' Hermione trailed off as Dumbledore mentioned the Quidditch teams as well as the need for a new captain.

'... We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff, Horace Slughorn' said Dumbledore as Slughorn stood up. 'He has graciously agreed to resume his old post of Potions Master.'

This caused quite a stir as all the students started whispering among themselves. Ron and Hermione turned to Harry, 'but I thought-'

'Professor Snape meanwhile,' said Dumbledore, raising his voice to be able to be heard above the muttering, 'will be taking over the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

Harry couldn't believe his ears. It took a lot of self control for him not to shout out loud at this announcement.

'But you said that Slughorn was going to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' said Hermione.

'Well I assumed as much. How am I supposed to know what he was the Potions Master before leaving the last time?' said Harry realising that Dumbledore hadn't said anything about the subject Slughorn was going to teach. Really, the man could have mentioned it to Harry since he did use him to get Slughorn to teach in the first place.

'At least there is one good thing about Snape being the Defence teacher,' said Harry as he glared with a burning hatred at the look of triumph on Snape's face as he lazily acknowledged the applause at the Slytherin table with a wave of his hand, not bothering to stand up.

'What's that?' asked Ron.

'The position is jinxed, so Snape's going to be out by the end of the year,' said Harry with a smirk. 'Personally I am hoping for a nice long drawn out death.' He added viciously, gaining a look of reproach from Hermione. Were a member of the Black family present at that time, they would have commented that Harry looked a lot like Orion Black when he was about to do something really nasty, which in the case of the late and unlamented Orion Black was almost all the time. As it is, Hermione got a vague reminder of a portrait of someone she had seen once in Grimmauld Place.

Harry barely paid any attention to the rest of Dumbledore's speech as he was still daydreaming about the different ways Snape would be ousted from the job. Perhaps it would be something embarrassing? Harry felt fate owed him enough to grant him a nice laugh at the greasy haired git's expense.

Shaking his head to clear it of the macabre yet satisfying thoughts of Snape dying, Harry rose from his seat along with the other students as Dumbledore dismissed everyone.

Almost immediately the new Gryffindor students were in front of him looking at him expectantly. Harry regarded them in amusement, 'How may I help you?' he asked them. It felt good to tower over people for a change.

'Um, we were wondering where the Gryffindor dorm is,' said the same nervous girl who had first asked him a question.

'Ah, well, why don't you go talk to Hermione and Ron over there? See that bushy headed girl and the slightly clueless ginger?' he pointed to his friends, 'they will be more than happy to help.'

'Why can't you take us there?' asked the boy who was forever going to be known as Colin II in Harry's mind in a rather plaintive tone.

'Well, you see Colin, they along with the two fifth-years over there are the Gryffindor House prefects so it is their happy duty to escort you there,' said Harry realising at the last minute that he had inadvertently slipped out the name he had given the boy.

'It's "Callan"' said the boy in a slightly resigned tone.

'Right,' said Harry. Yeah definitely going to be Colin, he thought. 'Anyway, it's the prefects' job to lead you to the dorms. And here they come.' He said with relief as the two fifth year prefects came up to them. He looked around for Ron and Hermione, but they had suddenly disappeared.

'But we want you to!' whined another girl

Harry was completely nonplussed at this. He distinctly remembered threatening to feed one of them to the giant squid. He thought that would've been enough to keep them far away from him.

'Yes well, I don't know the password luv,' Harry told the little girl. 'You would get there faster if you went with these two.' He indicated the two fifth year prefects.

'The password's "Lion's Pride",' said one of the prefects helpfully before they sloped off quickly.

'You're a load of help Eastchurch,' said Harry sarcastically to the girl's back. Looking at the expectant faces of the first-years, he sighed, 'Fine, follow me.'

Immediately the first-years got in line eagerly chattering away. Harry led them up to the Gryffindor dormitory muttering under his breath. He might as well be made a prefect, what with the duties he was being made to do. So far all the Gryffindor prefects seemed rather negligent in their duties. Harry had seen the seventh year prefects leave the Great Hall almost immediately after dinner, Ron and Hermione also had disappeared. Something he really found odd, considering that Hermione was pretty uptight about rules and her prefect duties.

Harry decided to be helpful and pointed out the different landmarks and obstacles along the way. Thankfully Peeves wasn't around this time and their journey went by uninterrupted.

Directing the girls to their dorms, Harry followed the boys up their section and getting to his dorm room, undressed and went to sleep, silently vowing that it would be the last time he would be doing work for the prefects. The next time they wanted any help, they would have to pay him.

Yes, another chapter ... do contain your enthusiasm ... screaming at the top of your lungs is acceptable, but that is where I draw the line.

13. The Book

Harry woke up early the next morning as per his usual time. Getting dressed, he quietly made his way out of the dorm and to the grounds. Once outside, he jogged towards the Quidditch pitch where he did a few laps. Checking the time and finding out that it was still early enough, he went back into the castle and to the seventh floor. Pacing three times in front of the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, he opened the door that appeared and entered the room.

The room he entered in was large with a padded floor. The room that he had used before to train in before leaving for the summer had changed. One side of the room was what could only be a firing range with a series of targets. Upon inspecting the targets, Harry found that they could be charmed to move around in random directions at different speeds. Opposite the bookshelf that was there the last time, stood a punch-back next to the dummies that Harry had practised on a few months back. Stepping back to the centre of the room and observing the changes, Harry nodded to himself in satisfaction. The additions would be useful. Not wasting any more time, he got started on his workout. The padded floor definitely was better to do push-ups on than the rough ground he was used to so far. For one, there weren't any small stones that would always find themselves underneath his knuckles, severely cutting down the number of push-ups he could do in a set.

Finished with that part of his routine, Harry went to the firing range. After playing with the settings a bit, Harry found that the rabbits and gnomes he had practised on in the summer were as good as an intermediate setting on the range.

A quick glance at his watch showed that he needed to get ready for class. Concentrating on a bathroom, Harry called Randolph, now his personal elf (mainly due to his seniority, much to Dobby's displeasure) and instructed the elf to get his bath things as well as his uniform. As the elf popped back in with the mentioned items, Harry reflected, not for the first time, that it was good to have help. And it was even better to have help that loves to work. Thanking the elf (who accepted with good grace, reminding Harry of the other advantage of selecting him as his personal elf) Harry got bathed and, now in his uniform, made his way to the dormitory.

Whistling merrily, he entered the sixth-year dorm. Ron groaned sleepily as he got up. 'Bloody hell mate, pipe down! There's no need to make so much of noise so early!' he said while Dean nodded silently as Seamus gave Harry a dirty look.

'Maybe you should also get up early too Ron,' said Harry cheerfully. 'Then go running for a bit. That way, you wouldn't be so grumpy in the mornings. Besides, it's nearly half past seven, it isn't that early!'

Harry chuckled as the other boys slowly made their way to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Harry left his dirty clothes on the floor as he knew that the house-elves would later pick them up to launder them. Having nothing to do, he left for the Great Hall on his own for breakfast.

As it was still early, the Hall was mostly empty with only the teachers filling up the staff table slowly sipping cups of tea. Most of the students present were Ravenclaws with a few Hufflepuffs and Slytherins. Spotting Hannah Abbot and not wanting to sit by alone with a bunch of third-year Gryffindors for company, Harry made his way to the Hufflepuff table.

'Mind if I join in?' he asked Hannah.

The girl squeaked before turning around, 'Harry! How are you? Sure no problem, you can sit here,' she said as she indicated to the empty spot next to her, letting Harry there.

Sitting down, Harry noted Susan looking still sleepy. 'Good morning Susan!' chirped Harry cheerfully, getting a growl and a filthy look from the still sleepy witch.

Hannah giggled softly and said, 'my, you're rather cheerful this morning.' Leaning in closer she whispered, 'don't mind Susan, she takes a while to wake up. Till then we have this troll in front of us who is probably going to eat you if you annoy her too much.'

'Oh, it's the workout I guess. Nothing wakes a person up better than a nice run outside on a crisp and clear September morning in Scotland. You should try it sometime,' leaning in to whisper just as she did, he said, 'I'll keep that in mind.'

'I think I'll pass on that,' said Hannah. 'I don't fancy running out in the cold, thank you.'

'Your loss,' said Harry in reply. 'It really does help a lot though.'

'Not that I don't admire the effect it has on your body,' said Hannah clearly thinking about the last time she had seen Harry in Diagon Alley. Those Muggle clothes showcased his body better than the robes he was currently wearing. Looking at his face a bit closer, she noticed a few features that she hadn't before. She supposed that it was because she had all the time in the world.

'Is that an invitation Ms. Abbott?' asked Harry teasingly, smiling as he saw Hannah blush.

Hannah hurriedly changed the topic, 'So what can we Hufflepuffs do for the great and mighty Harry Potter today? You don't have any more earth shattering news or dire warning for us do you?' she asked in concern at the end.

'Yes, actually, I do have a "dire warning" as you say, for you,' said Harry mock seriously. Leaning in he whispered dramatically, 'we have classes today!'

'Oh you!' Hannah slapped a laughing Harry on the shoulder. 'Seriously, why are you here Harry? Not that I mind,' she added hastily, 'but you normally don't socialise with others. I mean, even Zabini comes here time to time and talks to Ernie Macmillan.'

'Well, I did have my various issues in the last few years,' said Harry shrugging. 'Now I am mostly over them, so I thought that it would be nice to make some more friends.'

'Well, I don't mind that at all,' said Hannah nicely.

The two continued talking of inconsequential things with Susan joining them later on. By the time McGonagall stood up to hand out the schedules, requiring them to go to their house tables, Harry found himself bidding goodbye to a group of his year mates which included Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Terry Boot. He even nodded to Blaise Zabini, who actually nodded back.

Making his way back to the Gryffindor table, Harry met with Hermione and a finally awake Ron.

'Where were you Harry,' Ron all but demanded. 'We've been looking for you mate.'

'I could ask you the same question about last night,' Harry countered. 'Where did you disappear off to last night? I had to do your job for you since you weren't around to escort the first-years to their dorms.'

'I didn't know you knew Susan very well,' said Hermione before Ron could answer.

'We did meet up before,' said Harry casually.

By the time he realised the slipup, Hermione was already drawing conclusions, 'That would mean ... Harry! You didn't go to Diagon Alley by yourself before, did you?' she said looking at him menacingly.

'So what if I did?' Harry said slightly defiantly.

'It. Is. Not. Safe!' said Hermione pausing at each word. 'Anything could have happened to you there! I cannot believe Dumbledore let you go there!'

'What does Dumbledore have to do with anything?' asked Harry curiously.

'You mean to tell me that you went there without Dumbledore's permission?' asked Hermione sounding very disapproving.

'And why would I need to get his permission?'

'Dumbledore is the greatest wizard of modern times,' said Hermione. 'It matters because he knows what is best, and if he does not approve-'

'He's the headmaster.' Cut in Harry sharply, 'I do not see why I have to ask him for permission. School was not in session during the summer, so I fail to see why what he says in the summer matters. He is not my guardian. Besides, he didn't expressly tell me to stay in Privet Drive either.'

Hermione bristled at this and was about to open her mouth again when Harry cut her off again by greeting Professor McGonagall who had just finished talking to Neville who had an odd look of delighted incredulity on his face.

'Ah Mr. Potter, let's see now ... Potter ... here we are ... well, you have obtained the necessary scores to attend all the classes you have signed up for. I was rather impressed by your Transfiguration score by the way. Now I have noticed that you haven't signed up for Potions class? You had expressed a desire to become an Auror. You will need a Potions N.E.W.T. to get accepted in.'

'But I thought that you needed an O in the Potions O.W.L.s to be accepted in for the Potions N.E.W.T., Professor,' said Harry.

'Yes, that was a requirement put down by Professor Snape. However, Professor Slughorn has decided to lower the requirement to an E,' said Professor McGonagall. 'So shall I put your name down for the Potions N.E.W.T. class?' she inquired expectantly.

Harry looked at her expectant face. On one hand, he really no longer wanted to go for Potions since Snape had more than put him of the subject for life. Besides, Potions making was for minions! Harry shook his head at that, where had that last thought come from?

Looking back to Professor McGonagall, he gave his consent. Being in the class might help him in the long run. Slughorn sounded like a better teacher, and by the looks of it, might give Harry the same treatment Snape used to give his Slytherins. Besides, the man was also well connected, something Snape was not. Being in Slughorn's class and endearing himself to the rotund man might help Harry out a lot. Though he couldn't help but feel that the subject was somehow beneath him.

'Very well Mr. Potter, I am sure that Professor Slughorn will be willing to lend you the materials. Now I also received your note about those two other classes. Now while we don't recommend it, we do allow students to pursue O.W.L.s in other electives, those classes normally take place on Saturday mornings. You will be paired with other sixth years and those who need extra tutoring. Is that acceptable to you?' seeing him nod, she continued, 'In that case, here is your timetable. Oh, by the way, twenty hopefuls have put their names forward for the Gryffindor Quidditch team tryouts. I shall hand over the list to you and you can set a schedule at your leisure.'

In a few minutes time, Ron was cleared to do the same N.E.W.T. classes as Harry while Hermione was as usual cleared for all the classes she had opted for.

'Look Harry!' said a delighted Ron looking at his timetable. 'We've got a free period now ... and one after break ... and one after lunch ... excellent!'

They headed up to the Gryffindor dorms while Hermione scurried off to her Ancient Runes class. There they were met by Kate.

'Hey, Harry! Wow, you've really grown,' She said looking at him appraisingly. 'Congratulations on the badge by the way. I knew you would have earned it! Tell me when you're holding the trials!'

'Oh, don't be stupid, you don't need to try out! I've seen you play for five years now!' replied Harry with a confident smile on his face.

'I wouldn't go down that route if I were you,' Katie said warningly, 'there might be someone out there better than me. Many teams have been ruined because the captains have always had the old faces or let their friends in.'

Harry nodded in acquiesce; she did have a point there. Well, it looked like he was going to have his work cut out for him.

Katie then left the common room leaving Harry and Ron. Ron had a look an uncomfortable look on his face as he played with a lime green Fanged Frisbee that Harry was sure Hermione had confiscated from someone else.

After a few minutes of silence, Ron spoke up, 'What note was McGonagall talking about Harry?'

'Huh, oh well, I had sent a note to McGonagall over the summer asking if I could take up the Ancient Runes and Arithmancy O.W.L. classes in sixth year.'

'Why would you do something so mental?' asked Ron incredulously forgetting about the Frisbee which got too close to Crookshanks, biting the cat on the tail.

Harry watched the ensuing kerfuffle between Ron and Hermione's cat with amusement, trying not to laugh as he heard the occasional vicious snarl come out from the cat and Ron's pained grunts as he tried to pry the Frisbee off the cat's tail. Crookshanks definitely took after his owner in that regard. If Harry didn't know better, he would actually go so far as to say that the cat was actually berating Ron for acting like an idiot while clawing him to ribbons. As Ron sat back down again sporting numerous scratches Harry was sure he saw a look imperious disapproval so reminiscent of Hermione coming from the offended cat before it stalked up the girls' dormitory, tail, just as bushy as her hair, held high.

'Well, at least you managed to get the Frisbee in one shape,' said Harry brightly, indicating the object in Ron's hands. Ron just made a rude hand gesture in response which only served to make Harry finally break down laughing.

'So what made you do something so mental?' asked Ron suddenly.

Harry sighed and said, 'well, the classes sound interesting, and from what Bill and Fleur taught me over the summer it isn't as hard as I first thought it to be. So I thought, "why not?" after all, it will definitely help my credentials when I go searching for a job.'

'Mate, you're the Boy-Who-Lived! People will be falling over themselves just to get the honour of saying that you work for them!' said Ron rolling his eyes.

'Maybe, but they will expect a lot from me. Unlike that pompous tosser Lockhart who did nothing but sit on his arse all day writing replies to his fan mail, and churning out autographs for one half his life while spending the other half prancing around and smiling for the drivel he had written, I actually will be doing some real work. And that will need knowledge. Something even Lockhart couldn't fake. Thus I will need to go to such classes to get the knowledge to back my image,' said Harry a little testily. While he didn't detect any malice or jealousy in Ron's voice when he had said that (an improvement if there ever was one) he was still peeved that his friend thought so little of him, or would encourage him in not achieving his best potential. Did he not see that it was through years of magical experience, study and knowledge of spells that gave Dumbledore the reputation he was currently holding? Even when painted as a delusional old fool, Dumbledore still had the same presence and engendered the same amount of respect as before. Even Voldemort himself respected the old mage, despite his proclamations of the contrary. Harry wanted that, so he needed to start somewhere.

'Whoa calm down there mate! I was only joshing around,' said Ron trying to placate Harry. The look of bewilderment on his face told Harry that he had no idea why Harry had said what he had said.

It took all of Harry's self control not to pull his hair in frustration at his friend's obtuseness. Instead, taking a deep breath, he looked at the time and seeing that it was about time for the next class, got up to go out of the common room.

Harry regained some of his good mood by the time they reached the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione was already queuing up outside the classroom carrying an armful of books and looking rather put-upon.

'We've got so much homework for Ancient Runes,' she complained as Harry and Ron joined her. 'I've got two translations, a fifteen inch essay and I have to read these before next class!'

'Shame,' yawned Ron.

'Oh, you just wait! I bet Snape's going to give loads,' said Hermione resentfully.

Just then the man in question opened the door and as customary for him, bade the students to enter.

Harry took in the new décor of the classroom. Cheerful, he thought sarcastically as he looked at the various macabre pictures on the walls of people in pain, suffering the effects of nasty looking curses. The dark and gloomy room that was lit by candles as the curtains were drawn suddenly reminded him of the sight enhancement ritual that he had made plans to perform before school had closed for summer.

'I have not asked you to take out your books,' said Snape softly making Hermione blush and hurriedly drop her book back into her bag. Harry snorted at this; the comment was so typical of Snape. Harry knew that Snape had said that just for her. His immaturity really hadn't diminished one bit. Not only that, but Snape's low soft tones combined with the atmosphere he had created made Harry think of a cheesy Muggle horror film. He half expected to see a coffin stowed away at one side of the room. The way he stalked around in the shadows as he described the different pictures only served to enhance that image.

Harry listened to Snape's lecture on the Dark Arts and their defence with an outward expression of haughty boredom that was a close competitor for Malfoy's own look of arrogance. Inside his mind however, he was slightly alarmed by the loving caress that coloured Snape's voice when he was talking about the Dark Arts. Though he reasoned that he shouldn't be surprised as he observed Snape through the hair falling over his eyes; Snape was after all, a Death Eater, spy or not.

'The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past,' said Snape to a slightly hysterical Parvati Patil, 'which means that you will be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now ...'

He set off around the other side of the classroom towards his desk his dark robes billowing around him, as the class watched his every move as they had been doing since the beginning of his speech.

'... You are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?'

Harry rolled his eyes when Hermione's hand shot to the air as usual. He did not understand why she had this obsessive need to answer every single question a teacher posed to her in a classroom. Not only that, but hadn't she learned by now that Snape did not appreciate her answering every single question? Really a moron would have understood that just by looking at the way Snape took his time surveying the class to make sure that he absolutely had no choice. On a whim, Harry lazily raised his hand halfway giving the impression that he couldn't be bothered to fully raise it. He wanted to see if Snape was desperate enough to pick him over her.

'Yes, Mr. Potter?'

'Your opponent won't know the spell coming from your wand till it is cast. It gives a split second advantage in a duel. Some spells do look similar when cast, so countering them is harder when the incantation isn't known. Do they shield against what could be a bone breaking curse, or move out of the way of what could possibly be a blasting charm? Also, it is harder for the enemy to counter the effects of a curse one of their numbers was hit with if they don't know what the incantation was. For all practical purposes, in a battlefield, till the fight is over, that person might as well be hit by the Killing Curse since it will take time to diagnose and counter the curse. Time the enemy won't be able to afford.' Harry drawled his answer out while inwardly laughing with glee at the look on Snape's face. It was quite a sight; Snape really was desperate enough to choose Harry over Hermione! It looked like Harry had moved down Snape's list of people to hate. Though it was more likely that Hermione had moved up on the list as far as the classroom was concerned.

'That is essentially correct Mr. Potter,' said Snape in a neutral tone, though Harry could detect the pain it was causing the man to actually complement him. 'It is good to know that the chosen one isn't as hopeless in Defence as he is in Potions,' He sneered.

Instead of infuriating him, the comment only made Harry chuckle, 'Good one Professor,' he said in a chipper tone. He was going to make it his goal to get under the bat's skin as legitimately as possible.

Snape ignored him and continued, 'As Potter said, those who can progress to casting spells without the need of shouting incantations gain a slight element of surprise. Not many wizards can do this as it requires concentration and mind power, which some,' he turned to fix Harry with a malicious gaze, 'lack.'

Harry sat back and fixed Snape with the best arrogant look he could manage, something he had spent hours perfecting in front of a mirror. Snape was insistent on holding a grudge towards both his fathers and damning him for their sins. Harry had grown tired of trying to prove the man wrong. So if Snape insisted on seeing James Potter in Harry and judging him that way, then Harry was going to give him James Potter in his arrogant best. With the added bonus of Sirius Black in his arrogant best, going by what he saw in the mirror when perfecting his I-am-a-poncy-git look. And judging by the look of surprise followed by a look of even deeper loathing in Snape's eyes, Harry had succeeded. Well, no more pretending to be a bigger man for Harry. He was sixteen, damn it! And he was going to act like it. It was his right to be as insolent and annoying as possible.

When Snape gave instructions for the class to pair up and practise on silent casting, Harry smirked to himself. He had a feeling that Snape was going to personally try and show the class that he, Harry couldn't do it. Well, the git was going to be in for a big surprise!

Snape didn't know it (or maybe he did) but Harry had taught a majority of the class the previous year. However, nobody had cast silently before and it was turning out to be quite hard for them. It was quite entertaining to see the looks of constipation on their faces as one half of the class stood with their wands pointed at their partners without achieving anything. Harry found himself thinking that if it were him, he would have had the ones casting do so verbally while the other half shielded non-verbally. At least this way the other half would be forced to shield instead of standing and waiting for a spell that would never come. Eventually a fair bit of cheating had to occur as most of them whispered the incantations instead of saying it out loud.

Harry was careful to keep his expression neutral as he watched Ron get steadily redder and redder looking to be in great pain as he tried to cast a spell non-verbally. Harry took a quick peek to see what his friend was casting; it looked like that Tickling Hex wasn't going to be coming anytime soon.

'Pathetic Weasley,' said Snape as he swept towards Harry and Ron, drawing the attention of Hermione and Neville. 'Here - let me show you-'

He turned his wand towards Harry so fast that the other students barely saw it. Harry, who was anticipating it, quickly and silently cast a shield charm so strong that it caused Snape to lose his balance and bump into a desk. The whole class stopped what they were doing at the sudden noise and turned around to watch as Snape righted himself.

'That was ... impressive Potter,' said Snape as his eyes bored into Harry's. 'One would almost think that you were practising ...'

'Oh no Professor,' Harry breezed. 'That was my first time! It was as you said, "force of concentration and mind power". I guess I have a lot of that!' he said with a wide grin on his face, reminding Snape of James Potter after he had won a Quidditch match.

Harry could feel the faint mental probe coming his way and instinctively raised his primary defence. Only he had gained that experience and instinct from Voldemort, who had naturally found the most violent and painful way to do so. Those who tried to break through Voldemort's mind always failed as they were subjected to an excruciating pain. This not only ensured that the person who dared break into his mind was debilitated, but also discouraged them from trying again. That is if they survived the next few minutes in his presence. Something that rarely, if ever, happened since they would probably be finding a Killing Curse headed their way. It took a great deal of concentration, and mental power to break through that. Thus Snape immediately felt a sharp pain in his head, and not expecting it got distracted, due to which he was violently thrown out of Harry's mind, the ejection causing his body to impact with the desk for a second time.

His vision swimming and head throbbing, Snape abruptly dismissed the class five minutes before the bell. The tone of his voice made every student scramble for their bags in order to get out of the class in record time.

'What was all that about?' asked Ron.

'Oh nothing much, just Snape running afoul of my mental defences,' said Harry with an air of self satisfaction. 'I was looking forward to testing them to be honest. It was nice of him to volunteer!'

'But you shouldn't have attacked him so violently,' admonished Hermione, 'and how did you manage to cast that shield spell non-verbally? I couldn't even manage it!'

Harry immediately got irritated at this, 'Well, he was the one who invaded my mind. And considering the identity of the last person to invade my mind, you will forgive me if I don't like it being invaded. Perhaps you will feel differently if it was your mind that was being invaded.' This effectively shut Hermione up.

'That was an impressive bit of Occlumency Harry,' said Neville. 'I really wish I was as advanced as you are.'

'Wait, Neville, you know Occlumency?' said Hermione in what Harry thought was an unnecessary amount of incredulity in her voice.

'Yeah,' said Neville modestly. 'Gran taught me this summer. I'm not too great at it though.'

'But, why would you even need it?' asked Hermione.

'Because Granger, he is required to know it. Every head of House teaches the heir after the heir finishes his O.W.L.s. After all, it is a much needed skill when conducting business.' Sneered Draco Malfoy as he came up behind them. 'I am surprised that Longbottom here has managed to learn that much.' Not waiting for an answer, he sloped off with Nott, smirking.

Ron and Hermione scowled at his back while Harry dismissed Malfoy's existence. If Malfoy was going to ignore Harry, then Harry was more than happy to reciprocate.

'Harry! Hey, Harry!'

Harry turned around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters of last year's Gryffindor's Quidditch team was hurrying towards him holding a roll of parchment.

'For you,' he panted heavily. 'Listen, I heard that you're the Captain. So when're you holding trials?'

'I'm not sure yet, I'll let you know,' said Harry in reply, thinking that Sloper would be lucky to get back on the team. He barely heard Sloper's answer as he recognised the handwriting on the parchment. Unrolling it confirmed his theory. The first of Dumbledore's private lessons would be held this Saturday at eight. He looked around for his two friends to tell them this, but couldn't find them anywhere. Puzzled, he asked Neville (whom he noticed was nearby) where they were.

'I dunno,' replied Neville. 'I just saw them disappear a while back.'

'Something bothering you mate?' said Harry noticing the anxious look on Neville's face.

'Well, I want to ask you something, but I don't want to sound nosy or intruding ...' Neville trailed off.

'Why don't you ask your question? If it is something personal or private I'll just tell you.' said Harry after considering Neville's words. The shy boy rarely pried into anyone's business, and Harry wondered what Neville wanted from him.

'OK, I woke up early, and I noticed that you weren't there. Your bed was empty and you weren't in the common room. So was wondering where you had gone. I asked Ron, and he said that you were always up early in the summer ... so, where were you?'

'Oh,' said Harry relaxing a bit. That was an easy question to answer. 'I was out exercising. It's something I've been doing since the summer holidays started.'

Neville took a moment to consider this, 'is it because of, you know, last year at the Ministry?' he dropped his voice at the end looking meaningfully at Harry.

'You knew what Slughorn was talking about at the train didn't you?' said Harry, amused, his voice just as low as Neville's.

Neville just looked at Harry, 'well, it wasn't hard to connect the dots. It was pretty obvious what the Death Eaters were after. We also saw your name written on it remember?'

'Fair enough,' Harry conceded. 'Yes, it is because of that. I am training myself to be able to last longer the next time when I face the bastard. The running is part of it.'

Neville looked at him for a moment, 'can I join you?' he asked at length.

'Why?' said Harry not missing a beat.

'To be able to fight back of course,' said Neville matter-of-factly.

'I don't want to drag you into this Neville. This isn't your fight,' said Harry cautiously. He wasn't willing to bring someone he knew into this conflict. He didn't want to lose another friend.

'Isn't my fight? Of course it is my fight! Weren't you there in St. Mungo's? Didn't you see my parents lying there, insane? Well, in case you didn't know, or forgot, they ended up there because of that bitch Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband and her brother-in-law! They are still out there working for him and I want them to pay! Not only that, but V-Voldemort and his Death Eaters are the reason so many people have died. Look at the number of students in our generation! The reason there are so few of us was because of that creature! He is decimating people in my world, so you can be assured that it is my fight as well! It is every witch and wizard's fight!'

Harry raised his eyebrows at this. While Neville had taken care to keep his voice down, the heat and passion in his voice was unmistakable. Well, at least it proved that Neville was willing to do what it takes.

'Alright then,' Harry said with abrupt calm. 'We'll have to get you the right stuff then. Robes are rather restrictive after all.'

'S-so you'll let me join then?' said Neville taken aback by Harry's sudden change in mood.

'Sure Neville! I only wanted to know if you had the desire to see this through. Because I warn you right now, it will be hard.'

'I can handle it,' said Neville with confidence. 'Besides, I don't know about you, but with Occlumency I have found myself waking up earlier than usual.'

'Yeah, same here,' replied Harry, 'Alright then, I don't think you have the proper clothes or shoes to go running or do most of the things, so we're going to have to sneak into London to take care of that ... I reckon that Saturday afternoon would be the best time to do that.' He said thoughtfully.

'Sure,' said Neville. 'Er, would you mind if I brought along two others?' he asked nervously.

'Who are they?' asked Harry warily. Having Neville was bad enough, but with four people totally, it would be harder.

'Susan and Hannah,' Neville replied. 'We had talked over the summer after Susan's aunt escaped that attack. Initially we thought that the DA would continue, and when we heard that you weren't going to continue it, we were thinking of convincing you to do so anyway. But this sounds like a better idea.'

'Very well,' said Harry resignedly.

Just then the bell rang, and Neville left to tell Susan and Hannah the news while Harry went up to the common room. He used the free period to do Snape's assigned homework; it really was too bad the git had assigned homework just after his lecture. At any rate, Harry found that thanks to his studies in the summer and the practise he had put in helped a lot in understanding the material and finishing the work assigned in record time just in time for lunch.

Harry spent lunch among the Gryffindor first-years. The moppets had tracked him down quickly enough and spent the lunch period talking about their first impression of Hogwarts. Harry patiently listened to them, asking them questions about their classes, and giving them tips on how to survive the different teachers and navigate the castle. They were rather engaging and before Harry knew it, lunch was already over.

Harry spent the after lunch free period he had talking to Katie and her seventh-year friends. Katie was pretty popular and knew almost one member from all four houses.

He made his way down the familiar path down towards the Potions classroom. Not even Snape's change in position influenced where Potions was held. Entering the corridor, he noticed that only a dozen of his year mates had made it into the class. There were four Slytherins; Daphne, Zabini, Malfoy and Nott, four Ravenclaws, including Anthony Goldstein, and Ernie Macmillan, the only Hufflepuff. Harry was speaking to Ernie, and Anthony with Daphne and Zabini saying an occasional word or two when Ron and Hermione finally made their appearance.

'Where were you guys? I've been looking all over for you!' said Harry after Ernie greeted them. Not that he would admit that he actually hadn't.

Before Ron or Hermione could reply, the door to the classroom opened and Slughorn appeared before them, preceded by his belly. As they filed in, Slughorn reserved his best and brightest smiles for Harry and Zabini.

The students looked at the potions bubbling away in the large cauldrons with interest. It was unusual to see potions already made in the class. Snape had never bothered to demonstrate before. He always loved to lecture on the uses of the potion, how to extract and prepare the ingredients, and (if he was in a good mood, which was never) how the ingredients reacted to each other. In the practical periods, he would just put the directions down, expecting the students to have understood everything fully. After all, if they had doubts, they would have asked! Never mind that the only people brave enough to ask Snape were some really studious Ravenclaws and the Slytherins.

The Ravenclaws and Slytherins all decided to sit with their own housemates, leaving the three Gryffindors and Ernie to share a table. As everyone settled down and started to bring out their supplies, Harry raised his hand as he hadn't bought the supplies.

'Ah yes, Professor McGonagall did mention ... not to worry, dear boy, not to worry. I'm sure we can lend you two a couple of scales. You can use the ingredients from the store cupboard and manage with some of the old books lying around here till you write to Flourish and Blotts.' With that, Slughorn walked over to the small cupboard to the side and took out two old and worn books, which he handed to Harry and Ron along with a set of tarnished scales each.

With that taken care of, Slughorn started off the class with a small test to see if they recognised the potions he had prepared. This of course, was Hermione's time to shine as her hand shot up time and time again before she rattled off the name of the potion, its properties and characteristics to an increasingly bemused Slughorn. Harry was confused when she kept shooting slightly triumphant looks at him after identifying each potion. What brought that on? He thought.

'Impressive my dear,' said a clearly impressed Slughorn after Hermione finished describing Amortentia, a love potion, in excruciating detail, ending by giving way too much information on what she likes. Though Harry wasn't too surprised that she liked the smell of fresh parchment, he was slightly nauseated by her liking freshly mown grass. He had enough of mowing the backyard at the Muggles' place to care about it. It was a good thing that she stopped there. He did not know what he would have done if she confessed to liking the smell of detergent. 'And, what is your name?'

'Hermione Granger sir'

'Granger? Granger? Are you perhaps related to Hector Dagworth-Granger, the founder of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers?'

'No I didn't think so sir, I'm Muggle-born you see.'

'Oho!' said Slughorn looking at Harry, '"one of my best friends is Muggle-born and she is the best in our year!" I assume that this is the very friend you speak of, Harry?'

'Yes, sir,' said Harry. He'd really been hoping that Slughorn hadn't remembered that outburst. Though when he saw Malfoy's face, Harry thought it wasn't as bad. The look of shock and surprise that replaced the anticipation really was rather funny.

'What's so impressive in that? I'd have said the same if he'd asked me!' Ron cut across Hermione's gushing sounding a bit annoyed. He shut his mouth, looking rather disgruntled as Hermione made 'sush'ing gestures as Slughorn started to talk more about Amortentia.

Harry's estimation of Slughorn's prowess as a Potions master went up when Slughorn revealed what the golden potion that was splashing rather merrily in a small black cauldron on his desk was. Now this was what Snape had spoken about in first year. Only Slughorn actually made the potion. Harry began to wonder if Snape had ever brewed a potion in his life.

What was more, Slughorn was actually offering a vial of Felix Felicis to the best brewer of the day! The man really knew how to make a class work, as everyone was bent over their cauldron in concentration. Harry also got down to it, eagerly opening his book to the page. He frowned at the book; it was heavily written in. The previous owner had actually taken issue with some of the author's instructions, going as far as to scratch out some instructions and writing over it. Frowning, Harry got the necessary ingredients and got to work.

Within ten minutes, the class was full of bluish steam emanating out of twelve cauldrons. Harry bent over to decipher the next set of instructions. The previous owner had scratched that out and replaced it with his own directions.

'Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?' Harry looked up as Slughorn passed by Malfoy's table.

'Yes, I did. I was sorry to hear that he had died, though it wasn't surprising. Dragon Pox at his age...' Slughorn said, not even looking at Malfoy. Harry smirked as he bent back over the table. It looked like Malfoy would have to rely on talent here. He really should've figured that out when he wasn't invited at the train compartment that Slughorn wasn't interested in him.

The Sopophorous Bean was proving rather hard to cut. On a whim, Harry decided to follow the alternative instructions and crushed it with the flat side of his dagger. He was rather surprised when the shrivelled Bean released more juice than it could possibly hold. Scooping it up, he added it to his potion to see it turn the exact shade of lilac as described in the book. His annoyance at the previous owner of the book vanishing on the spot, Harry started tentatively at first, and more confidently later on, following the alternative instructions given. The end result, even to his untrained eye, looked much better than the potion Hermione had made.

Slughorn definitely agreed with Harry's private assessment as he happily declared Harry the winner, waxing poetic about Harry's obvious talent in the field which, as he assured the class, was clearly inherited from his mother.

Harry felt a deep satisfaction at the look of murder in Malfoy's face. He also felt a slight amount of guilt at the look of disappointment at Hermione's face, but that feeling went away quickly. He had, after all, tried to help her. It wasn't his fault that she decided to follow the book instead.

Harry finally told Hermione and Ron the whole truth about the book at dinner at the Gryffindor table. As he described the book, Hermione's face became stonier and stonier. He looked at her challengingly and said aggressively, 'I suppose that you think that I've cheated?'

'Well, it was hardly your work,' she sniffed.

Ron however was on his side, claiming that it those were only a set of different instructions which Harry took a big risk in following. Not that Hermione was convinced, judging by the expression on her face which was the same one she wore when she was arguing about S.P.E.W.

When they got to the common room, Hermione and Ron brought out their Defence homework.

'Aren't you doing your homework Harry?' asked Hermione inquiringly when Harry made no motion to bring out his own work.

'Nah, I already did it,' said Harry, 'Finished it in the free period before lunch actually. It was rather easy.'

'Oh?' Hermione said rather sceptically. 'Well then you won't mind if I look through it would you?'

'It's OK Hermione, I checked it myself. I couldn't have done any better. To tell the truth, I actually had to cut down on the wording a bit. My first draft was three inches too long.' Harry didn't like the tone in which his friend was talking to him, but didn't let it show in his face and tone when he answered her.

'Did you copy from another person for that too?' she said snidely.

She was caught off track by the blank expression on Harry's face. Harry fixed her with a haughty look, his eyes glowing green as he said, 'If that is what you think Hermione' his suddenly frigid voice turned arctic at the last word. Abruptly standing he gave a theatrical stretch and said, 'Well, I think I'll turn in early now, it's been a long day.' He ruffled his hair, unconsciously making the few girls staring at him to sigh dreamily, leaving a spluttering Hermione in his wake. Silently fuming at what she had said. How dare she accuse him of cheating like that?

'Some people cannot take a joke,' said Hermione after a moment's awkward silence. 'What?' she said defensively upon looking at Ron's face. Ron just shrugged and resumed working on his assignment. He personally felt that Hermione was a bit too accusative for that to be a joke as she so claimed. But he wasn't going to say that out loud. He didn't want to argue with her again.

14. Midnight Explorations

Important note: I have had a few reviewers who have had issues with the fact that I haven't used double quotations when framing speech (I have difficulty in understanding why that is an issue in the first place). Now I go with the philosophy that for every person who actually steps up and asks a question, there are ten others who have the same doubt but don't say anything. So in an effort to clarify those doubts and prevent any further misunderstanding: I use single quotation marks or single quotes (') instead of double quotes or double quotation marks (") when framing speech. It is proper English, I assure you, and very much in use. Please look up 'single quotes' in Google if you don't believe me.

I hope this clears any doubts people have and that no one takes offence to this ...

Anyway, on with the story,

Cheers!

Over the next few days of the week, Harry used the alternate instructions he had found in the potions book written by someone who, as he later found out, went by the moniker, "the Half-Blood Prince" in every one of his Potions classes. This had the effect of improving his Potions skills to such a level that Slughorn was shortly raving about his skills, going so far as to say that he hadn't ever taught anyone as talented as Harry. Of course, this also resulted in Hermione getting increasingly irritable at him to the point of giving him filthy looks every time they were required to brew a potion irritated that Harry would use what she called "cheap shortcuts". Harry privately thought that she was really irritated with the fact that she hadn't thought of the same innovative methods as the Prince.

Ron was not that much better. Only he wanted a part of the glory. At first Harry had agreed and would keep the book between them so that the red head could read the instructions as well. However this soon proved to be impossible. Ron, for some reason had a hard time deciphering the cramped handwriting of the Half-Blood Prince than Harry. And it was useless trying to whisper the instructions to him as not only did they have bubbling cauldrons to contend with but also the small hisses of disapproval that kept coming from Hermione's mouth which, as she wanted to avoid being caught by Slughorn, became progressively lower in pitch and more drawn out to the point that, by the end of the second lesson, she was beginning to sound like a particularly dim snake.

Nevertheless, that meant that Ron wasn't able to understand what Harry was saying. He couldn't ask Harry to repeat what he was saying without it sounding suspicious. So in the end, Ron was also displeased with the situation. Though most of his displeasure was directed at Hermione after Harry pointed out that the noises she was making was the main reason for him not getting the instructions right. Not that Hermione cared. She insisted that Ron follow the "official instructions" like everyone else.

Harry had also met Susan and Hannah along with Neville about the morning exercises. Initially he was wary about including the girls in, especially after Hannah's initial declaration that she wasn't into all that. But in the end he needn't have worried. Susan especially was helpful as she had promised to get equipment that Aurors used to train with, thus negating the need for a trip into Muggle London. All they had to do was give their measurements. And Hannah had apparently changed her mind. Though when asked why, she would just blush and change the subject.

The promised equipment came as a package through owl post in two days. Harry and the other three had snuck off to open it after class. Upon opening the package, Harry found, among the usual pairs of running trousers and t-shirts, four pairs of unusual looking shoes. 'What are these?' he asked Susan while examining a pair his size. It looked more like a slipper but where the end would be rounded off as with most footwear, these had five toes jutting out, looking very much like gloves for feet.

'These are the latest in running equipment,' said Susan reading from a note from her aunt that was included with the package. 'They are supposed to fit the foot exactly and give the feeling of running barefoot. Auntie says that they are planning on incorporating these with the standard Auror training material ... and we're the guinea pigs.'

Neville held his pair up in front of him. 'They look weird,' he said flatly.

'I was going for "ugly" actually,' said Hannah.

'They are pretty comfortable though,' said Harry as he put on his pair. He wiggled his toes, the shoes fit like a glove. Walking around, he sighed blissfully; he never felt so free before!

'They still look weird,' said Hannah.

'So?' said Harry. 'It's not like you're going to be wearing them every day! Though I am tempted...' he looked at the shoes thoughtfully, 'I suppose a Glamour charm won't work?' he asked Susan.

'I don't think so,' said Susan. 'The shoes already have a bevy of comfort and durability charms in them. Adding more magic may blow the shoes up.'

'Oh well,' shrugged Harry, 'At least I have a good pair of running shoes.'

And so by Saturday, Harry had the company of two Hufflepuffs and Neville. While the other three still were behind as far as fitness was concerned, they did show eagerness in building themselves up. Harry made it a point to moderate his pace so that he was running behind the rest. He did it to ensure that they were running properly and at the right pace, not so that he could look at the girls' shapely behinds. At least that is what he kept telling himself as his eyes kept wandering down that area.

His breakfast finished, Harry bade his new friends' goodbye and went up to the Ancient Runes class. Professor Babbling had set up these Saturday classes along with Professor Vector for students that had some difficulty in the normal class the previous year. This meant that the classroom was full of fourth- and fifth-years.

'Ah Mr. Potter,' said Professor Babbling. 'You turned up, that's good. Initially there were two others in your year that were going to join you, but they changed their minds at the last minute. I was expecting the same of you, to be honest. But now that you've come...' she trailed off a bit as she searched for someone, 'I'll leave you in the capable hands of Ms. Greengrass over there.' she grabbed the attention of a fourth-year girl who was talking to the group her peers and called her over. 'She is one of the best in my fourth-year class and had volunteered to help out in my remedial classes. But since you are the only sixth-year here, I think it would be better if she tutored you and the other fourth years in the basics while I take care of that group of fifth years. They have their O.W.L.s coming up and they are behind as it is!'

Quickly introducing the two to each other, she hurried off to the group of fifth-years.

'So, Daphne has a younger sister,' said Harry after a minute of silence. To this the younger girl just gave him a toxic sarcastic look that clearly conveyed her opinion of his brilliance. He was validated when the younger girl opened her mouth.

'Brilliant deduction there, Potter! Did you figure that out on your own? I wonder what gave me away.' Astoria Greengrass said with sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

Not to be outdone, Harry replied brightly, 'It was the looks for me!' In a mock serious tone he added, 'The last name was another hint that you might be related to Daphne.'

Astoria just rolled her eyes at that and moved towards the group of fourth-years, muttering to herself. Harry could make out the words 'my sister' and 'doomed' among the other incomprehensible words.

Thanks to the crash course he had from Bill and Fleur over the summer along with his self study, Harry found that he was quite far ahead in the third-year syllabus. Astoria was pretty impressed with his knowledge, and, though she did not show it, slightly jealous of Harry from having had personal tutoring from a Gringotts Curse Breaker.

They eventually decided to pair up divide the load of teaching the other fourth-years who had barely managed to pass the third year exam, which was how Professor Babbling found them when she came over to their group.

The Professor was pretty impressed with Harry's knowledge of the subject so far. After some thinking it was decided that from the next class, Astoria would be teaching Harry the remainder of the third-year course while she would bring over another one of her bright students to help the fourth-years out. By the end of the term, depending on where Harry was, Professor Babbling would make the appropriate decision. Astoria however didn't seem too pleased by the whole thing.

As class ended, Astoria gave Harry a big smile, 'well, Runes is over for the day Potter, we won't be seeing each other for a week at the least!' her smile slowly slipped away as Harry continued to sit there in place as the Arithmancy class entered. 'You're here for Arithmancy too aren't you?' she said resignedly.

'Brilliant deduction there, Greengrass! Did you figure that out on your own? I wonder what gave it away.' Harry parroted her words from earlier with a cheeky grin earning him a venomous look from the younger girl.

Much to her relief, Astoria didn't need to tutor Harry that day as because Professor Vector had given Harry a test to gauge his competence with numbers. Harry found most of the questions to be easy partly due to them being simple mathematical problems he had learnt in primary school and partly due to the summer he had spent studying the subject.

Professor Vector was pretty impressed with Harry's current grasp of the subject and had him help out the fourth-years along with Astoria who would be tutoring him in the next class just like she was doing in Ancient Runes.

Harry spent the afternoon socialising with his year mates. He even went out flying for awhile with some of them, playing a friendly match of Quidditch. Fresh from the game, with a rosy glow on his cheeks from the wind he found Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room working. Going up to the dorm, he changed out of his sweaty clothes and picking up his bag went back down to join them.

'Hey,' he said easily as he carelessly threw himself on a chair next to them. Looking at the essay in front of his friends, he noted that they were working on the homework McGonagall had set for them. Having already finished his essay, Harry sat back and on a whim opened up his old copy of the Potions book.

Hermione only sniffed at the sight of the book in Harry's hand before twitching her essay up and away from Ron's prying eyes.

'Don't you have your homework to do Harry?' said Hermione after a few minutes of silence which she spent alternatively looking at him and on her essay.

'I've already finished all my homework,' said Harry easily. Inwardly he tensed up expecting another verbal battle with her.

Just as he suspected, Hermione said in response, 'Really? May I have a look at it then?' he thought he detected a note of challenge in that question. As if she didn't believe he had done his work.

'Hermione!' said Harry in apparent shock, 'I cannot believe that you would want to copy from my assignment! That is cheating that is! Who'd have thought that Hermione Granger would want to copy from me?' he directed the last question to Ron who by then had given up figuring what to write next in his essay and was watching the conversation between Harry and Hermione in amusement.

'I don't want to copy from you, you prat!' said Hermione in irritation over Ron and Harry's chuckling. 'I wanted to look through your essay because I am sure that there will be mistakes in it. That is, if you have completed it,' the scepticism in her voice was more than apparent.

Harry only gave her a wide smile at that. 'Yes, I have completed it and no, you don't need to see it because there are no mistakes in it. I checked the essay myself.'

'If you're sure,' said Hermione unconvinced.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her at this. There was something in her tone that he didn't like. He really hoped she didn't do something stupid like remove his homework from his bag. After awhile, he looked at his watch and got up hurriedly saying, 'I'd better go, I've got to meet Dumbledore soon and I'm going to be late if I don't hurry.' With that, he hurried up the stairs barely listening to Hermione's excited gasps. He put his bag in his trunk, double checked his locks and wards like usual and hurried out the common room, waving to his friends.

Reaching the gargoyle he said the password and rode up the moving spiral staircase after the gargoyle jumped aside. He was barely able to restrain his excitement at what he was about to learn from Dumbledore.

Minutes later however, that excitement was replaced with bitter disappointment. Harry looked at the headmaster in slight disbelief as Dumbledore took out Harry's Pensive and put in a memory from an abject stranger without so much as a by-your-leave. He should've known that the old man was going to pull something like this. When Dumbledore had first told him over the summer that he was going to be giving Harry private lessons, Harry was initially elated. He thought that the old man had finally come around, that now he was going to start properly training Harry to defeat Voldemort. Harry had fully expected to be given pointers in duelling strategy and casting spells. He even had expected to be taught some arcane and rare spells as yet unheard of (despite Hermione's insistence on the contrary).

What he wasn't expecting however was for Dumbledore to show him the memory of some idiot Ministry worker who in all probability was a half-blood or pureblood, if the way that man dressed was anything to go by. Honestly, a one piece bathing suit? The man already looked like a mole to begin with thanks to the huge thick glasses on his short fat face. The bathing suit did not help his figure any. Luckily for Harry's youthful innocence (what was left of it anyway) Bob Ogden was wearing a frock coat. Harry shuddered to think of what he would've seen had the wizard decided to forego that thanks to the obviously hot summer's day in the memory.

Harry and Dumbledore followed the man down the country lane. The clear summer sky overhead coupled with the plant life on either side of the country lane filled Harry with a sense of tranquillity, his mind to coming up with images of a completely made up childhood. It was only by breathing in the air and noticing a lack of smell did Harry remember that this was a memory and nothing else. As they gazed down the village of Little Hangleton, Harry was for a brief moment transported to his fourth year when he and Cedric grabbed that cup. Harry would never forget that tall mausoleum in the centre which could be seen all the way from where he was currently standing. Shaking himself out of the memory and the potentially depressing thoughts that it would lead to, Harry concentrated on following Bob Ogden. He finally had a name to that nightmarish site-Little Hangleton. It definitely looked different in the light of day.

'You are not welcome' the chilling words brought Harry to the present. While he was thinking he had unconsciously been following Dumbledore and the odd man that was Bob Ogden. Looking around, the owner of the voice was found to be a short monkey-like man holding a dagger with matted hair and dressed in filthy rags. Harry could make out a rundown shack a bit into the distance nestled in the grove of trees that he suddenly found himself in. If it wasn't for the smoke coming out of the open window, the house (if it could be called one) would've been thought of as abandoned.

The current occupants of the house certainly lacked proper taste, mused Harry as he looked at the dead snake nailed to the door. Though, he concluded as the tramp hit Ogden with a curse that made yellow pus ooze out of his nose, the occupants did seem to be on the violently insane side.

It took all of Harry's self control not to stop dead at the name Ogden referred the man to and follow conversation. Harry distinctly remembered the name Gaunt on his family tree. At first he thought that it was a mistake, or that it was another family with the same name, but the Parseltongue he had observed the father and son conversing in stopped that line of thought. Morfin at any rate seemed incapable or unwilling to speak English.

'Ar, that was Morfin,' said the old man indifferently. 'Are you pure-blood?' he asked, suddenly aggressive.

'That's neither here nor there,' said Ogden coldly. Harry could detect a hint of defensiveness in the voice.

Definitely Halfblood then or possibly Muggleborn, thought Harry, though he doesn't seem too proud of it.

Harry looked at the interior of the house where Morfin was playing with an adder and hissing to it. So these are the Gaunts, descended from Salazar Slytherin, he thought as he looked at the deformed faces of the family. They really have fallen far. He wondered what had happened to such an ancient and noble house that they were living in squalor. Perhaps the Chamber of Secrets held those answers. He had no idea that the magical side of the family was still alive. Not that Harry would want to publically acknowledge any relationship to these ... people.

They certainly hadn't lost their pride, Harry observed as he saw the way father and son talked down on the Ministry worker. Their arrogance came close to beating a typical Malfoy or Black despite their ugly features and worse than Weasley appearance.

Harry received his third shock of the day as the old man showed Ogden the ring on his finger. It was the same one he had seen on Dumbledore's hand in the summer, albeit less tarnished with the stone whole! How were the two connected? And the name Peverell sounded familiar...

And the shocks didn't end there; after some more arguing Gaunt then grabbed his daughter and dragged the poor pitiful woman forward by a locket on her neck to show the same to Ogden. The sight of the locket on her neck triggered another vision, as unbidden, from the very depths of his mind, a rush of colour, lights and sound came to his consciousness coalescing into a memory;

He was looking down at the battered form of a woman lying on a bed in a cheap inn, her plain features twisted in confusion and pain, slowly turning into horror as she gazed upon the red gleam he knew was shining in his eyes. He smiled coldly at her as he watched her engulfed by the green light that came out of his wand...
The phantom pain that accompanied this vision was lesser than the pain Harry had experienced in the last vision he had that was triggered by the ring he had noticed on Dumbledore's finger in the summer.

'…Slytherin's!' yelled Gaunt, bringing Harry back to the present, 'Salazar Slytherin's! We're his last liv ing descendants, what do you say to that, eh?'

Lovely, thought Harry sardonically. That definitely cleared up any remaining doubts that these were the same Gaunts as Morag Gaunt. Not that Harry was happy about it. The only way it could possibly get worse was if Voldemort was descended from them.

He really hated being right at times, Harry decided as he saw the young man who looked a lot like the memory of Tom Riddle on the gleaming chestnut horse, laughing at the spectacle that was a fleeing and dusty Bob Ogden at the end of the memory. He really should have twigged on that as soon as he heard them raving about being the descendants of Slytherin, and speaking Parseltongue. Though now that he thought about it, their insanity and propensity to violence was further confirmation that Voldemort was descended from them ... after all, Voldemort was just about as insane and violent as his uncle and grandfather. Not to mention bleeding ugly.

Harry sat in the chair opposite Dumbledore's for a good few minutes processing the information revealed in the memory, while Dumbledore waited patiently for him to speak.

'I'm guessing that the family Bob Ogden had visited were Voldemort's maternal family,' Harry half stated half questioned coming out of his stupor.

'You would be correct, and that Muggle on the horse was Tom Riddle Senior, Voldemort's father, while the old man Marvolo Gaunt was his grandfather and Morfin his uncle,' said Dumbledore.

Harry sniffed in response, 'She really isn't much to look at, so I assume that love potions or enchantments were involved. Judging by her competence in performing even the most basic of spells, I would assume that it was more of the former than the latter.' He paused, still deep in thought. 'Her family weren't exactly Muggle friendly, so I don't see them approving of this, and she seems too meek to sneak about with them around ... thus they would have to be taken out of the picture ... from the memory you showed just now, I would hazard a guess and say that Bob there came back with some friends and brought Morfin and Marvolo in for a nice stay in Azkaban.'

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore with faint amusement. 'Ogden Apparated back to the Ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage, and subsequently convicted by the Wizengamot. Morfin, who already had a record of Muggle attacks, was sentenced to three years in Azkaban. Marvolo, who had injured several Ministry employees in addition to Ogden, received six months.'

'In the absence of her tyrannical and abusive father and brother, Merope Gaunt seized the chance for freedom and possibly used a Love Potion or the Imperius Curse on Tom Riddle to get him to marry her. I suspect, like you, that it was the former, but mainly because a Love Potion would seem more romantic to her. It would be a simple matter to slip the potion in a drink of cool water on a hot day to a thirsty Tom Riddle ... it caused quite the scandal when the squire's son ran off with the tramp's daughter.'

Harry bit back a sarcastic remark at that. It was rather obvious that Tom Riddle running off with someone like Merope Gaunt would get people gossiping. Not only were they both on the extreme opposite sides in terms of wealth but in terms of looks too. 'But things didn't turn out that well did they?' he said instead. From what Voldemort had revealed about his history in the past, Harry knew that he was raised in an orphanage.

'No they didn't,' said Dumbledore heavily. 'Merope probably stopped feeding Tom the love potion after she got pregnant in hopes that he would stay behind. However, as we know, he left her almost immediately, returning to his parent's house and claiming to have been bewitched by her.' He sounded a tad disapproving. 'Destitute and broken-hearted, Merope Gaunt managed to scrounge a living, being forced to sell the only valuable item she had with her, that locket. She eventually gave birth to Voldemort in an orphanage in London in December and died shortly after.'

Harry really couldn't find any sympathy for Merope here. It was her fault that she ended up pregnant without any means of support in the first place. He could understand the Muggle Tom Riddle's reaction to finding out that he had been enthralled by her, but at the same time thought that Merope was pretty stupid to have stopped feeding him the love potion. At the very least she could have made Tom give her everything he owned before stopping the dosage, and then finding out if he was going to stay ... some Slytherin she was.

'I think that will be enough for this evening, Harry,' said Dumbledore after a few moments of silence.

As Harry got up to leave, he noticed the Peverell ring sitting on one of those spindly legged tables that normally supported one of Dumbledore's many frail looking instruments. Harry mentally rolled his eyes, sure that the old man had put it there just so that Harry would notice it. With a sigh he asked Dumbledore about it not really expecting an answer. He wasn't disappointed; with a smile Dumbledore dismissed him mentioning that Harry could share some of what he learnt today and would learn in future lessons with Ron and Hermione since they were trustworthy. He also warned Harry to keep such knowledge between the three of them. Harry agreed to that. It wasn't as if Ron and Hermione had friends to tell in the first place. Except Ginny that is.

Distracted and thinking about what he had seen so far, Harry entered the Gryffindor common room where he was brought out of his musing by his aforementioned friends demanding to know what Dumbledore had taught him. Harry graced them with his presence for a while listening to them dissect what Dumbledore was trying to achieve before he left them saying that he wanted to go to bed and turn in early.

Situating himself on his bed and drawing the curtains, he sunk into a meditative state to search for the name Peverell within his memories. He didn't need to search for long before he got the memory associated with that name. Hurriedly getting off his bed, he opened his trunk and rooted around a bit. With a triumphant exclamation, he extricated his copy of the family tree which was the result of the lineage test he had done in Gringotts.

Scanning it, he finally found mention of the Peverell name. Sure enough, just as he remembered it, was the name Cecelia Peverell. She had married a Radulfus Potter, Harry's many times great grandfather sometime in the thirteen hundreds. There wasn't any mention of siblings so Harry guessed that she was an only child. That didn't, however, rule out the fact that she may have had a relative who had married into the Gaunt line. Lovely thought Harry sarcastically, another connection to that snake-faced wanker, just what I need. His mood did not improve when he saw the name Morag Gaunt written on the middle column with a single line connecting the ancient wizard to his mother. Harry fervently hoped that Morag Gaunt did not have any connections to the family of heathens he had seen in that memory. Though he didn't have high hopes. With his luck, Voldemort was probably his half brother in some twisted way.

Rolling the family tree up, he bent over his trunk to place it back in when he noticed his birthday gift from Ollivander. He hadn't had the chance to read it yet. Making a note to start reading it, he closed his trunk and drew the curtains of his bed closed again.

He looked around the room one more time. The room was just as empty as it had been before he had entered it. He quickly drew his cloak out from his pocket and donned it. Slipping out of the door he snuck downstairs to the common room. Being a Saturday night, the room was still populated by students doing homework or enjoying free time with their friends. However curfew had ended meaning that the entrance won't be opening anytime soon.

Harry was contemplating putting off his trip for another time when the portrait opened and McGonagall stepped inside followed by a first-year. Immediately all noise in the common room ceased as her presence was noticed while she scanned the room. Harry noticed two seventh-years surreptitiously concealing some hip flasks in their pockets.

'Do you know where Mr. Potter is, Ms. Granger?' she finally asked Hermione. Her voice, though soft, carried through the now silent common room. Harry also noted that her lips were pretty thin and there was a look of faint irritation on her face.

Uh-oh thought Harry, whatever she wanted him for, it couldn't be good. She normally reserved that look for people she was about to give detentions to, take points from, or eviscerate. He gave the titch accompanying McGonagall an evil look, certain that she was the one behind this. Not that she noticed, what with him being invisible and all. She did seem nervous though.

'I think he's asleep Professor,' said Hermione.

'Weasley can you go and check?' said Professor McGonagall.

Please don't draw the curtains, please don't draw the curtains thought Harry as he quickly moved out of the way and went to a corner of the common room to avoid bumping into anyone as Ron went up to the sixth-year dorm. If Ron decided to do that and found an empty bed, then he would know that Harry wasn't asleep. Shortly McGonagall would know. That would then raise questions as to exactly where Harry was if he wasn't in the tower despite Ron and Hermione having seen him go up the dorm, along with half the house. Harry was sure that the situation would get really ugly then.

'He's definitely asleep professor, the curtains of his bed were drawn and he didn't answer when I called his name.' said Ron coming down.

Thank Merlin thought Harry as he silently slumped against the wall.

'Do you want me to wake him up?' asked Ron. Harry tensed up again, hoping with all his might that McGonagall didn't say yes.

McGonagall took a moment to think on that before saying, 'No that will not be necessary, Mr. Weasley.' Harry slumped against the wall again. 'It can wait till tomorrow. I want all the Gryffindor prefects along with Mr. Potter to meet me after breakfast. We can have our weekly meeting then instead of later tonight.'

'Please Professor; may I know what this is about? Harry isn't in trouble is he?' asked Hermione. Thinking quickly, Harry started creeping across the room, careful not to make any sound till he was in front of McGonagall and in between his head of house and friend.

'You will find out tomorrow Ms. Granger,' said McGonagall cryptically. 'I expect all of you at my office at ten tomorrow sharp.' Hearing Ron groan softly, she said, 'Yes that means you as well Mr. Weasley. I don't care how early it is on a Sunday morning, but I want you there and you better be presentable. I will not be pleased if you arrive wearing your pyjamas or yesterday's clothes. You better have bathed as well.' With that she turned around to exit out of the portrait hole ignoring the titters coming out as well as the slightly embarrassed expression on Ron's face.

Now behind her, Harry followed McGonagall, sticking so close to her that his chest was nearly touching the back of her head. He was careful to ensure that he was matching her stride step by step. It was thanks to his Quidditch reflexes that he managed not to bump into her as she stopped abruptly just in front of the entrance. Quickly backing up a few steps, he hoped that she hadn't suspected anything as she turned her head. 'Oh, and Mr. Williams and Mr. Caruthers, I will very much appreciate it if you don't share the contents of your flask with the younger years. You won't like the consequences should you be found giving alcohol to minors.' Her sharp gaze picked out the two now sheepish seventh years that Harry had noticed before. As she opened the portrait wide enough Harry slipped through quickly. She barely felt a breeze as he passed by.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry watched McGonagall walk of briskly towards her quarters. He spent a moment wondering what she wanted him for along with the other prefects before shrugging. He would find out later anyway. There was no need to waste time thinking about that. He had work to do.

He swiftly and silently made his way towards the second floor, avoiding the prefect and teacher patrols using his father's map. He had also activated his necklace for further security. Stopping outside the out of order girls' bathroom, Harry paused a moment to look around the corridor. It had been nearly four years since he had last traversed this corridor, and the ominous messages that had been put there all those years back were still as vivid and bright red as ever. It looked like Filch still hadn't been able to wash it away. Wonder how pissed off it will make him if someone were to mention this? Thought Harry amused.

Seeing that nobody was around in his vicinity, and that it would be five minutes at the earliest by the time the next person entered the corridor, Harry opened the door and quietly slipped in. He checked his map again; Myrtle wasn't around in the bathroom (she was lurking in the prefects' bathrooms again ... poor Ernie ... it probably was for the best he not be told about that). Deactivating the map and removing the cloak, Harry approached the sink at the far end.

'Open,' he hissed in Parseltongue. The tap started glowing at this as the sink sank out of sight, leaving behind a large opening, where, after casting a cleaning charm, Harry quickly slid down.

Only to be brought up short. The cleaning charm had removed the slime, but at the same time without the lubricating effects of the slime, the friction between his clothes and the stone was too high to allow him to slide down the pipe effectively, meaning that he was stuck a few feet from the entrance, which shortly closed after him, leaving him no choice but to go down. So Harry was reduced to awkwardly scooting along on his backside cursing all the way. Fortunately, it wasn't for long as he soon found that his cleaning charm hadn't cleaned out the whole pipe. Gratefully, Harry let himself go down this section and slid the rest of the way down. Landing at the exit on the damp floor with a wet thump as he was ejected, just as slimy as the last time he had done this.

Still swearing and cursing, he waved his wand over his clothes, clearing the slime out. Now marginally cleaner but still swearing (he hadn't been able to get it out of his hair) he continued down the tunnel till he came to the second obstacle.

Harry stopped short and looked at the solid wall of broken rock that was there before him. He couldn't believe that he had completely forgotten about that part. The hole that he had crawled out with Ginny also looked to be too small for him to slip through it now! Had he really been that small then? It would take quite a bit of time to get that cleared away safely without causing a bigger cave in and losing access to the Chamber for good.

Well might as well get that taken care of first he thought as his eyes fell on the shed basilisk skin that was lying close to the cave in. He had no idea what use the skin would come to, but better safe than sorry. Besides, it still looked as pristine as it had done before. About to call his elf, he stopped short; I'm such an idiot, he mentally said as he called Randolph.

The distinguished head elf instantly appeared at his master's side, 'Sir is calling Randolph?' the elf inquired politely. Either it was the elf's training, or all elves were weird that way as Randolph didn't even question what they were doing in such a place. In fact, he acted as if meeting his master in dark strange tunnels with shed basilisk skin was completely normal.

'Er, yes,' said Harry, 'do we have a place where we can store ingredients especially animal parts indefinitely?'

'Yes sir, there is a room like that in Potter Manor with stasis charms to prevent the items from going bad. You would know if you had gone there sir.' The elf tacked in the last bit in a slightly disapproving manner.

'All in good time Randolph. Right now going there isn't safe for me or for the family.' Said Harry, soothing the elf's ruffled feathers 'make no mistake I plan on visiting the place as soon as possible. Now, about that skin ...' he asked leadingly.

'It shall be done sir,' said Randolph. With a click of his fingers, the skin was moved to the storage space.

'Thank you Randolph,' said Harry. 'By the way, how fast can you get that cave in repaired?' he pointed to the wall of rock before him.

The elf looked at the cave in for a while before saying, 'It will take time sir,' he said slowly, 'we'll have to be careful not to damage the tunnel any further. I do know of five elves how know how to do this properly.' Falling silent he looked at the cave in closely before saying hesitantly, 'They should be able to finish it within a day I think.'

'Very well,' said Harry, 'that should be fine. Can you transport me to the other side for now?' Harry doubted that the anti-apparation wards around Hogwarts extended this far, and he felt too lazy to find out.

The elf took Harry's hand in response and with a 'pop', Harry found himself on the other side of the cave in.

'Thanks Randolph. One other thing though. There is a rather large, dead magical animal and since I killed it I figure that it is mine anyway. So do you know if any of the elves that can render it down to potions ingredients?'

'It will depend on the animal in question sir,' said the elf after a pause.

'Alright then, let's get down to seeing it!' said Harry as he led the way forward, the elf cautiously following behind.

Coming to a stop at the double doors that led to the Chamber, Harry hissed a quick 'open' which opened the doors. Other than a slight widening of his eyes, Randolph didn't show much of a reaction to Harry's ability to be able to speak Parseltongue.

Entering the Chamber, Harry's eyes immediately fell on the huge corpse of the basilisk. He was surprised to note that there were no signs of decay on the dead animal. He had fully expected to be assaulted by a horrendous smell of rotting flesh as the snake had been there for a long time. Instead, the corpse looked as fresh as if it had been killed yesterday. Initially Harry thought that it was because of the snake's magical aura and highly poisonous nature that prevented any microorganisms from digesting it, but then he saw the smear of blood next to the basilisk on the wall which he, (with an unpleasant jolt) recognised as his. The smear though dried out, was still glistening dully in the greenish gloom that permeated the Chamber almost as if Harry had bled there recently and not four years back.

It was this smear that led Harry to suspect a strong preservation ward having been cast on the entire Chamber. It certainly accounted for the relatively pristine condition of the Chamber. After all, for a room that probably hadn't been properly used for a couple of centuries, the Chamber was in a pretty decent condition. All it needed was a bit of cleaning and perhaps some minor repairs.

Randolph gave a small gasp when he saw the basilisk Harry was talking about. Smiling in victory at finally causing the elf to lose control, Harry said with forced nonchalance, 'How long do you think it will take to render that one down?' he waved at the corpse sounding as though it was a small garden snake he was talking about and not a sixty foot long behemoth.

'Dobby, Winky and I can take care of this sir,' said Randolph, his voice cracking a bit as he looked at the massive basilisk that was looming over him. 'Hopefully it shall be done by the end of next week.'

'Wait, those two? I'd better talk to them then,' said Harry, knowing how much Dobby hated Winky and vice versa, it would take much longer for the task to be done if they had to work together.

With a pop the two house-elves appeared, 'Harry Potter sir!' said Dobby bouncing in place as soon as he appeared, 'It has been so long! Dobby was wondering when Master would call on Dobby!'

'Hello Dobby,' said Harry with a smile, 'I hope that you've been enjoying your work? Anyway,' he continued hastily as he saw the elf's eyes go misty at that question. 'I have a task that only you and Winky here will be able to do.' He would never get things done if he let Dobby start wailing about how kind and considerate he was, 'I want you to help Randolph here' he nodded to the head elf and Dobby's boss, 'to render that animal behind you so we can use its parts.'

At this Dobby and Winky turned around and screamed rather loudly when they laid eyes on the basilisk. 'Where is master finding such a big snake?' said Winky wonderingly and slightly hysterically.

Harry took a moment to recover from the ringing in his ears created by the elves high pitched voices. 'I killed it in my second year. This,' he gestured around the room, 'is the Chamber of Secrets'

The three elves took a moment to digest this bit. Even they had heard of the legend of Slytherin's famous Chamber. Dobby was the first to recover. At once he started praising Harry's prowess as a wizard with an increasing amount of worship in his eyes. Shortly he realised that he had tried to prevent Harry from attending Hogwarts. Harry was thankful for that as the elf immediately shut up and started berating himself for being stupid enough to stop "the great and all powerful Harry Potter". Harry was sure that the elf was a step away from actually falling on his knees and bowing and scraping in his presence. That would certainly be embarrassing!

'Well, I want you to get on with this and finish as soon as possible. That means no fighting you two, am I clear?' said Harry in his most stern voice as he looked down at the two elves. The elves agreed meekly.

Harry smiled, 'Good, I also want you lot to clean the place up after you are done with the tunnel cave in and the basilisk. Get some magical lighting in here and see to any repairs. We'll talk about the details tomorrow.' The elves nodded again, and Harry dismissed them.

As soon as the elves left, Harry just remembered that there was no way he could leave the place on his own. Cursing himself, but not wanting to call an elf yet to transport him, Harry started exploring the Chamber. He was sure that Salazar Slytherin had created another entrance and exit. After all, while the pipe entrance was well and good for a snake to use, a human wouldn't be able to exit the Chamber using the same route, even with magic.

After some searching, Harry finally found a tiny engraving of a snake in the left hand side wall. With a hissed 'Open' a section of the wall opened that led to a passageway which Harry was sure was the way out. Traversing the path with his wand lit, he saw that it led to an antechamber with a tunnel directly opposite him flanked by two archways each framing a blank stretch of wall. Harry continued through the tunnel, and after a bit of walking he came to a blank section on the wall which opened outwards automatically as he approached it leading to a stone staircase leading to a dead end

Going on a hunch, Harry quickly went up the stairs. As soon as he reached the top, the section of wall slid open. Exiting it, he looked around and found himself in the antechamber off the Great Hall where he had been sent to in his fourth year after his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire. Turning around Harry saw the wall soundlessly and smoothly slide back. Examining it, he found a carving of a snake etched into it.

A quick look at his watch revealed that it was rather late. Donning his cloak, Harry made his way back to Gryffindor tower. The late hour meant that he did not run into anyone, even though the map showed the presence of Order members patrolling certain parts of the castle, with what Harry guessed to be Aurors patrolling the school grounds.

Whispering the password to the fat lady (who swung open still asleep) Harry quietly made his way back to his dorm room and went to sleep. He hadn't been able to fully explore the Chamber, but he had found out quite a bit.

15. Surprise Promotion

Sunday morning Harry decided to have a bit of a lie in. Which, considering the time he normally got up, was still pretty early. After spending a few moments in bed "thinking" (he really needed to find the time to go out soon), Harry got up to get ready for the day. Seeing as it was still early, he decided to pamper himself a bit and headed out to the prefects' bathroom, his bath things in tow. Of course, he made sure to check for the presence of a certain voyeuristic ghost using his map before going there. Perhaps Myrtle hadn't yet moved on because she hadn't shagged yet? Harry blanched at the thought of a live person actually doing the deed with a ghost ... he shook his head violently to rid himself of those thoughts. That really was disturbing! Though it would explain why she was still hanging around after having haunted that schoolmate of hers, Olive Horny-something-or-the-other ... Harry hit his head with his hand repeatedly, trying to beat out the more disturbing images of a physical relationship with a ghost and a live person that started to invade his mind.

He eventually managed to get those thoughts out of his head half way through his bath using Occlumency. Though, he was considering using a memory charm on himself.

Now, feeling better after having finally removed the last vestiges of slime from his scalp that last night's cleaning charm and bath hadn't been able to reach, Harry ambled toward the Great Hall, remembering at the last minute that he wasn't supposed to know about Professor McGonagall's summons.

He bumped into a slightly frantic looking Neville Longbottom as soon as he stepped inside the door.

'Alright, Neville?' he said cheerfully with a grin on his face.

'Harry! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!' said Neville, relief taking over the frantic expression on his face.

'Why were you looking for me?'

'McGonagall wants to see you today after breakfast at ten. Where were you anyway? The girls and I waited for you outside but didn't find you. Eventually we had to continue without you.'

'McGonagall wants me? Whatever for?' said Harry with false bafflement. 'I took the day off by the way. The week was rather hectic and I figured that a day won't hurt me any. After all, I've been at it since the beginning of summer!'

'Oh,' said Neville at this. He shrugged and said, 'McGonagall didn't say what she wanted with you, but she didn't sound well pleased. For some reason she's told the prefects to come as well.'

Harry looked over Neville's shoulder at the staff table hoping to spot Professor McGonagall there. Spotting her, he noted that she had a pretty stern expression on her face. Then again, she always looked stern.

Figuring that it would be a good idea, Harry stared off into the distance putting on a perturbed look on his face. Or at least he hoped it was a perturbed look. He hadn't done perturbed before. He had done hesitant, and was a master of the meek look, but he never had done perturbed.

Apparently it worked since Neville didn't call him out on it when he finally asked the other boy if he had breakfast. Neville shook his head in response and the two of them went to the Hufflepuff table where they joined Susan and Hannah along with the others from Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Harry shortly found out that most of the school, through means that still eluded him, had found out about the meeting he would be having with Professor McGonagall and all the Gryffindor prefects as they all started asking him questions ranging from 'what nefarious plot have you uncovered today Potter?' to, 'Just what did you do to piss off old McGonagall so much that she's called all the prefects too?' accompanied with expressions ranging from mocking to concerned.

Harry waited for all the questioners to subside before speaking, 'I have no idea why McGonagall wants to meet me today, and I have less of an idea as to why she called all the house prefects. And no Zabini, I haven't done anything recently to piss off McGonagall. I mean it isn't like I killed Filch and his cat. And please don't call her "old McGonagall" again. It reminds me of a song I'd rather forget.'

'You killed Filch's cat?' asked Ernie incredulously just as Justin Finch-Fletchley suddenly started laughing.

'Oh, sorry,' said Justin still chuckling. 'I just got Harry's bit about the song. It's a Muggle thing. More specifically it's a Yank Muggle thing. Not a very good joke though.' At the still blank looks on his friends' faces, he hastily changed the subject, 'so Harry, you killed Filch's cat?'

Harry groaned at this, 'No I didn't kill Filch or his cat!' he said irritably. 'The miserable sod is still alive along with that rabid flea-bitten walking used up dishrag he calls a cat. Unless Fang's caught up with her ... in which case I'd better go talk to Hagrid. He's not going to like it if his dog dies of indigestion.' That generated a few laughs from the rest of the group.

As it got closer to ten, Harry got up from the Hufflepuff table and headed up the first floor towards Professor McGonagall's office. He was shortly joined by Hermione and Ron who was hastily smoothing his still damp hair.

'Hey guys, where were the two of you? Don't you know that McGonagall wants to talk to us soon?' said Harry innocently.

'Where were you?' asked Ron indignantly completely missing the joke. 'We looked everywhere for you! You weren't in bed, the common room or in the bathroom! And I missed breakfast!'

Harry brought his hand up to his chin and looked at Ron with exaggerated thoughtfulness. 'Did you check the Great Hall?' he asked slowly, speaking as if he had just had a great idea. Seeing their dumbfounded looks he carried on in the same vein, 'I get up early every morning.' He then addressed the empty space of air next to him as if there was someone invisible there, 'You'd think people would notice given that they have spent an entire summer with me but noooo.' He paused for a moment and looked at Ron suspiciously, 'And how would you know I wasn't in the bathroom? Did you actually go checking every stall to see if I was there? I understand you are my best friend Ron, but this is ... going beyond ...' he paused with a slightly disgusted look on his face, 'I don't think I'm ready to go further here. It's not you,' he said reassuringly, 'it's me ... I just have an aversion to flat chests ... and penises.'

'Oh, get your mind out of the gutter and grow up Harry!' said Hermione disapprovingly while Ron scowled.

'Grow up? You mean further? Hermione, Hermione, Hermione,' said Harry shaking his head as he started forward to Professor McGonagall's office. 'I've grown up as much as possible. I should tell you now that this is as far as any bloke is going to grow mentally. I'm going to be sixteen till I die!' he declared grandly.

'Very clever Harry,' said Hermione sarcastically, 'using a pop song to make a joke.'

'Sorry?' said Harry as he and Ron looked at her quizzically.

'Oh don't act daft Harry Potter! You know which song I'm talking about!' Seeing the blank expression still on both the boys' faces she rolled her eyes, 'Bryan Adams! Seriously, haven't you heard him? Eighteen till I die, Summer of Sixty-Nine ...'

'Oh, he's Muggle,' said Ron with a look of dawning comprehension on his face that was mirrored by Harry.

'No, I haven't heard of him,' said Harry, 'though he doesn't seem that creative since he's using numbers to name his songs. Come to think of it, he sounds pretty old too with a major midlife crisis.' With that he knocked on Professor McGonagall's office door.

Hermione's reply (and it looked to be an indignant one judging by the look on her face. Harry mused that she might be a major fan of this Bryan bloke) was interrupted as Professor McGonagall called them inside her office after Harry knocked on the door.

'Good to see you here on time Mr. Potter, Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley. The others haven't arrived yet so we will have to wait for them ... please, be seated,' she indicated the seven straight backed uncomfortable looking chairs that had been arranged in front of her desk. Ron and Hermione sat down first, in the two chairs in the middle.

'Mr. Potter, if you please, I'd like to have all my prefects sitting together,' said Professor McGonagall an unreadable expression on her face as she indicated to a seat to the far side of the desk practically next to her. Harry noted that the chair he was sitting in definitely was more comfortable than it looked.

'Come in,' Professor McGonagall called out as someone knocked on the door. Seeing that the other prefects had arrived by then she said crisply, 'you are late. Sit down quickly so we can start. I want to get this over with so I can enjoy my Sunday. And yes, Mr. Weasley, we teachers do have a life outside teaching.' She said the last bit upon spotting and correctly interpreting the look of momentary surprise on Ron's face, causing the red head to blush.

As the other prefects sat down, Harry wondered if there was any significance to having all the prefects situated together right in front of professor McGonagall with Ron and Hermione flanked by the seventh and fifth year prefects with him seated to the side, almost facing them.

'Now first order of business, I want your written reports for the week, so if you please?' her voice trailed off expectantly. In response, all the other prefects pulled out a sheet of parchment.

'Mr. Weasley, where is your report?' Professor McGonagall asked when Ron didn't hand his in, the glint in her eyes as she asked the question belied the casual tone that she used.

Ron gulped. The last time he had seen that kind of a glint was in Bellatrix's eyes when Harry had insulted Voldemort in front of her.

'Er- I-Ileftitbehindinthedorm' he said hurriedly as sweat broke out on his forehead.

'Sorry? Do repeat yourself Weasley, I didn't quite catch that.' Said McGonagall, however, the look in her eyes suggested that she had, in fact, caught what Ron had said.

Harry felt a bit of sympathy for his friend as the ginger sat there practically sweating blood. Of course, that sympathy did not extend to helping him out. McGonagall was scary. And that was on an average day. Right now, with her lips having nearly vanished and her nostrils flared she looked positively demonic as she looked at a squirming Ron looking remarkably like the Hungarian Horntail that Harry had faced in his fourth year. He should know ... he had the model on his bedside table.

'Um, I, er, didn't get it professor,' said Ron hesitantly. 'You see, I forgot it 'cause I was in a hurry-' he stuttered to a halt as the expression on Professor McGonagall got stormier and stormier to the point that if Hagrid had walked in right now, he might have thought that his dreams had come true and that the Headmaster had finally let a dragon in the school.

'You mean to tell me Mr. Weasley that you forgot to get your report, despite having been told that there was going to be a meeting of all the prefects today, and that too when I told you last night?' Her voice turned deadly at this point.

'Um, I was busy looking for Harry to tell him about the meeting, ma'am. Both Hermione and I were searching for ages! We only found him a few minutes back! So because of that I forgot to get the report.' Ron rambled on defensively, his ears going red.

Professor McGonagall looked at Ron for a minute, her expression not changing one bit, 'Mr. Weasley, do you take me for a fool? I have been teaching in this school for nearly thirty years now, and I have even taught your parents when they were students themselves. I can see from your still damp hair that you just recently finished your bath. I also did not see you in the Great Hall despite the fact that I was there for nearly two hours. I also know for a fact that you haven't even had breakfast judging by the sounds your stomach is making. If you truly had been up early enough, you would have had the time to dress properly, know that Mr. Potter wasn't in the Gryffindor tower, and have come for breakfast. In fact, you would also have been able to have a proper bath.' Ron opened his mouth, but Professor McGonagall cut him off, 'I can see the drying soap suds under your collar, Weasley.'

Hermione and Harry were the only ones who didn't snicker at this. Hermione was shooting Ron looks of disapproval, while Harry was using all the training he had gone through over the years with the Dursleys along with his Occlumency skills to keep his face straight. He was only partially successful however, for his eyes were twinkling in mirth. His task was made even harder when he remembered the last time he had to sit there with a straight face and not laugh his arse off was when Dudley had first put on his Smeltings uniform all those years back.

'Do you even have a report made, Mr. Weasley?' growled Professor McGonagall after a minute of considering the boy in front of her after giving a quelling look at the tittering fifth- and seventh-years. 'I thought so,' the look on Ron's face was enough to answer that question. 'So you couldn't even be bothered to write a few lines about the patrols you do for the week, Weasley?' Her voice cut through the room making all the students within cringe on reflex. 'I cannot believe that a Gryffindor prefect would shirk his or her duty. Especially now with the way things are going. I am utterly disappointed with you.'

She turned her baleful gaze upon the other prefects, making even the burly seventh year prefect gulp. Her lips had completely vanished by this point, 'And that brings me to the second part of this meeting and why I called all of you and Mr. Potter.' Professor McGonagall fixed her stare at Harry upon mentioning him, startling him. Harry hesitantly returned the smile she sent his way, taken off guard by the suddenness of the change in expression on the older woman's face.

Her face hardened again as she looked around the room again. 'Yesterday, when I had my first meeting with my Muggleborn first-year Gryffindors, I was told a rather interesting story. It was so interesting that I actually had to call in the other first-years to corroborate what I had been told.' She pinned the fifth-year prefects with her glare.

'Ms. Eastchurch, could you run through the tasks you were given on the night of the first?'

The girl who had given Harry the password to the Gryffindor Tower on the night after the Welcoming Feast spoke up hesitantly, thrown by the sudden change in topic. 'Well ma'am, after the Feast, Fitzpatrick and I went to patrol the seventh floor, just as we had been instructed to do. We did not find anything suspicious.' The other prefect nodded vigorously at this

'I see,' said McGonagall. 'What were your duties for that evening, Mr. Connor?' she addressed the seventh-year prefect.

'Sarah and I had been instructed to go help the caretaker sort out any contraband or dark objects that had been detected and confiscated from the incoming students, professor. We were also supposed to help if any further searches were needed. Aside from the odd mildly cursed item, nothing serious was found. Additionally the wards hadn't been tripped when the first-years came in so there wasn't any need to carry out additional searches. As there wasn't anything left for us to do, the two of us left for the Tower. Naturally, ma'am, we cleared it with Mr. Filch and confirmed that there wasn't anything else we were needed for before leaving.' His long experience with the Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress was the reason why he tacked the last bit on. He knew that she would ask that one question.

Harry was still lost. He wasn't the only one however as the others around him were just as confused as he was. Hermione was mustering up the courage to ask Professor McGonagall the reason for the meeting when the Professor herself spoke up.

'I see,' she said sternly, 'Mr. Connor, were you present at the debriefing that took place in the train ride here?'

'Yes, ma'am' replied the seventh-year cautiously.

'And was every one of this house's prefects present then?'

'Yes, Professor'

'Also, as seventh-year prefect you were given the list of duties for Gryffindor house's prefects, which you then delegated to the fifth- and sixth-year prefects?'

'Yes ma'am.'

'And I understand that the other years had volunteered to carry out the tasks that were on the list first before you could hand them out?'

Looking as if he was wondering where she was going with it the prefect replied with another, 'Yes ma'am'

'Good then. Now, can you tell me who volunteered to escort the first-years up to their dorm?' said McGonagall. The casual tone in her voice was in direct contradiction to the steely glint in her eyes.

The whole room went silent at this, a look of dread started to fill Ron and Hermione's face, while the fifth-year prefects had a look of dawning understanding and hidden glee on theirs. The seventh-years were the only two who did not understand the significance of the question. Harry finally saw where this was going and although his face was carefully neutral, he was rejoicing underneath.

Now Harry didn't really mind escorting the moppets to their dorm. Despite them being a royal pain and extremely cheeky at first, they were likeable enough when they had calmed down a bit. Besides, he really liked the way they insisted on saying 'Sir,' and 'Mr. Potter,' when addressing him even though at times it made him feel really old.

But he did resent having to do the work without any of the perks or benefits. A part of him was still stung over the snub of being passed over for Ron Weasley for that position. Screw Dumbledore's reasoning. So Harry really did not appreciate being made to do their work for them. He was not their fag, nor was he selected for the position. Ron was made the prefect, not Harry. So why should Harry shoulder any of the responsibilities?

After all, didn't Dumbledore say that he had passed Harry over because Harry had enough responsibilities? Harry was initially sorely tempted to just leave the first years behind in the Great Hall in a bid to send a message that he wasn't going to take any responsibilities he wasn't supposed to take, but then that would make the first-years suffer. And Harry wasn't that heartless to let innocent children suffer for the actions of others. He had enough of that growing up and with Snape.

'Um, if I recall correctly, the sixth year Gryffindor prefects were supposed to do that,' said Connor slowly. 'But you know all this ... ma'am.' He faltered at the last moment as Professor McGonagall levelled a stare (lowered to an eagle level glare) at him.

'Oh, I did know of this Mr. Connor, I just wanted to ensure that everyone here knew what they were doing,' said Professor McGonagall, still sounding casual, 'Because, that would help me understand why on earth the first-years were escorted to their dorms by someone who wasn't a prefect!' She bit out the last few words as she fixed Ron and Hermione with a glare so intense that it had reached basilisk level, surpassing her previous record of dragon-level.

'Well?' she snapped out into the uncomfortable silence after nobody spoke up. 'Nothing to say, Mr. Weasley?' she asked as she looked at Ron who shrank back in his seat. 'Ms. Granger?' for once, the bushy haired girl was speechless as she also shrunk back from the baleful stare sent her way.

She rounded on the fifth-years, 'I understand that Mr. Potter had directed the first-years to you when he couldn't find the sixth-year prefects, Ms. Eastchurch? Why didn't you and Mr. Fitzpatrick take up the job instead of giving Mr. Potter the password and moving off? Surely it wouldn't have been that much of a stretch to carry on with your patrol after escorting the new students to their dorms?'

'Um,' the poor girl clearly wasn't expecting to be in the firing range. 'I-I thought that it would've been better for us to go and patrol the seventh floor as soon and as early as possible ... and the firsties wanted Potter to take them there!'

Professor McGonagall wasn't impressed, 'so you mean to tell me that you would be willing to jump into the lake stark naked in the middle of February and then attend all of your classes without your clothes on, if, as you say, "the firsties", asked you? Sweet Merlin, girl! You are the prefect! At least act like you have a backbone!'

'Please professor,' inserted her fellow prefect. 'We had no idea where Weasley and Granger had disappeared off to. And we thought that it would've been better to just follow the orders we were given. My Grandfather always said that the best thing a soldier could do was follow the orders he was given. And he was a soldier himself!'

'And that brings me back to the original point of this meeting,' said McGonagall turning to Ron and Hermione not breaking her stride. 'Imagine my shock when I find out from the new students that they had been escorted up to their dorms not by my sixth-year prefects, or any of the house prefects for that matter, but by one of our other students.' she paused for a while just to watch them squirm before snapping out, 'Where were the two of you that night?'

'Um, well professor, we're sorry that we didn't escort the first-years to the dorms,' began Hermione. 'But we thought we saw someone acting suspicious and decided to investigate. By that time, we heard that the first-years had already been taken care of.'

Professor McGonagall raised her eyebrows at this, 'a "suspicious person" you say?' Hermione nodded, while Ron said 'yes Professor,' clearly thinking that they would be let off the hook. He couldn't have been more wrong. 'Well, then why am I hearing about this now?' said Professor McGonagall, her frosty tones becoming even colder. 'It isn't in your report,' she said as she picked Hermione's report and examined it. 'Perhaps it is in that nonexistent report that you claim to have left behind in the dorms, Mr. Weasley?' she said archly when Hermione failed to respond.

Ron flushed at this, 'I did make that report, ma'am.' He said slightly resentfully.

'Really? Then I'm sure you won't mind bringing it down from the dorms. It will only take five minutes. I certainly can wait that long. I am sure the others won't mind waiting either,' said Professor McGonagall challengingly. Seeing Ron make no move to get up, she said expectantly, 'Well, we're waiting, Mr. Weasley.'

'It isn't fully completed yet,' Ron hedged instead. He had meant to make the report up and give it, but things kept happening and one thing led to another and before he knew it, Saturday had come up and he hadn't completed it. When Professor McGonagall had postponed the meeting, Ron had been ecstatic. He thought that he would get up bright and early on Sunday and be able to complete the report by nine. He certainly hadn't meant to sleep in.

Professor McGonagall only snorted at this. 'So when will it be completed by, Weasley?' she said sarcastically, 'If and when you finally leave school the next year?'

Not expecting a response from the now blushing boy, she addressed the entire room. 'I never have been so disappointed with the whole lot of you! Not only did my sixth-year prefects fail to do the tasks that they had volunteered for, but my fifth-year prefects couldn't be bothered to take up the slack! I would suppose that the seventh-year prefects could be let off the hook, but then I hear that even they haven't bothered to help the new students out!'

She swept them with another glare, 'Being a prefect is not a privilege, it is a responsibility! It isn't all about taking points or handing out detentions but also about being there for the younger years! I don't even know why I am repeating myself when you lot,' she indicated to the sixth and seventh-years, 'should have known this by now! I also expected you to tell your juniors and the new prefects the same thing, despite having given them the same speech!'

'And not only that,' she continued in the same venomous tones. 'But you have the gall to hide this from me! Why hadn't you reported Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley missing?' She snapped the last question off to the fifth-years.

'And also, why were the first-years all running around lost the first day back? Weren't you supposed to be showing them the way? Was it not your responsibility to do that much? I know that it isn't written in the rule book, and I don't really expect it out of my seventh-years, but the fifth- and sixth-year prefects could have done that at least. So why haven't you?' she fairly shouted.

After a long moment of hesitation, the fifth-year, Fitzpatrick spoke up, 'Well professor, the two of us were going to do that, but by that time, the first-years had already started flocking towards Potter over here asking him questions about their schoolwork and about the directions to the other classes. So we thought that it would be better to leave things the way they were.'

Professor McGonagall's face didn't change one bit, indeed she was seething inside at this. So they decide to go around and pretend as if nothing was happening? Just because one student volunteered to do something they were required as prefects to do? She thought furiously. Just then, inspiration struck her as she started speaking 'Yes, indeed, Mr. Potter here has done far more than you lot. All the new students I have met have all been filled with tales of how he has helped them with their work and in finding their way around the castle. In fact, from what reports from various sources tell me, he has also seen to helping the first years of the other houses as well whenever they ask him a question if their house prefects are not around.'

'My initial reaction to hearing about this was to replace you with Mr. Potter, Weasley.' Ron blanched on hearing this. 'However, the headmaster managed to convince me otherwise, by pointing out that it was not enough grounds to remove a prefect. He also pointed out that this would necessitate the removal of the other prefects as well, since all of you are equally guilty here one way or another.'

'In light of this, I have thought long and hard and have come to this conclusion.' She had just come up with this, but they really didn't need to know that. Taking a deep breath and hoping that this worked, she continued.

'The position of House Captain hasn't been conferred on a student for a long while now. That was mainly due to the drop of the student population that Hogwarts had experienced recently. In the fifties, it was decided that the six prefects would be more than adequate for the job with the Head Boy and Girl taking care of the organisation of the different house clubs. However,' she opened a drawer in her desk and rummaged around for a bit. 'Due to the work you have done recently in helping out the first-years as well as taking care of some of the responsibilities that the prefects should have been doing, Mr. Potter, I have decided to give you that position.' Finally finding it she extricated a scarlet badge embossed with the Gryffindor Lion in gold with a thin golden C surrounding the animal on one side.

She held the badge out towards Harry while silently ordering the boy to take it without asking any questions.

It seemed that Harry had read her intentions correctly as he took the badge without any complaint, looking at her squarely in the eye all the while only breaking eye contact as he pinned the badge next to the scarlet and gold Quidditch Captain's badge, which, unlike the House Captain's badge, had a pair of broomsticks crossed with each other with the Quidditch four balls between the handles superimposed on the Gryffindor Lion.

Good boy, Professor McGonagall thought. Smiling, she said briskly, 'Congratulations on your promotion, Mr. Potter. I will make the announcement tonight in the Gryffindor common room.' said Professor McGonagall. 'We will discuss your responsibilities in detail later. For now, know that you will be sharing some of the responsibilities that the other prefects claim to be too busy to do.' she gave all the occupants in the room one last glare before dismissing them.

'Mr. Potter, stay back for a moment.'

Wondering what she wanted, the newly minted Gryffindor House Captain sat down in front of his head of house while the others filed out as quickly as possible, wanting to get away as soon as possible. They did not want to find out if the Scot could actually breathe fire.

Telling him to have a biscuit, the old battle-axe leaned back in her chair and, exhaling softly, said, 'Thank you for accepting the position without any fuss, Potter. That was rather commendable of you.'

Harry raised his eyebrows, 'So you had actually thought of the whole thing at that very moment!' he exclaimed.

'You would be right Potter.' said Professor McGonagall as she opened her eyes and looked at him with none of her usual sternness present. 'The headmaster overruled my initial decision of sacking Mr. Weasley and putting you in his stead. So I had to think of an alternative method to teach them a lesson. This was the best I could come up with. I would appreciate it if you didn't share that with the others.'

'I don't think I like being singled out like that just so you can teach a bunch of my schoolmates a lesson,' said Harry slowly.

'Oh don't worry Mr. Potter, I will ensure that you earn that badge. You will be one busy little boy indeed! Besides, making you House Captain gives me the leeway to assign more patrols to the prefects.' As Harry opened his mouth to protest at that she continued, 'Also, I wouldn't complain too much Mr. Potter. In fact, if I were you, I would be thankful that this is all that I am doing.'

'What do you mean professor?'

'Oh, let's just say that if you were to complain or whine about your new position or responsibilities, I just might remember something else I learnt from the first-years,' said Professor McGonagall as she looked over her spectacles at Harry. 'Like the fact that a certain someone told the first-years that I habitually transfigure students into various animals as a punishment.' She fixed him with a stern look, her eyes narrowed and lips thin.

Harry couldn't help but blush at that. 'Ah, you um, heard about that, professor?' he said at a vain attempt at being casual.

'Yes, Mr. Potter, I did. Do you know how terrified those Muggleborns were when I had called them over to my office? The poor mites were positively quaking in their shoes! They were nearly in tears by the time they had come to my office!' Professor McGonagall exclaimed.

Seeing that there was no reply coming from her new House Captain, she continued on, 'I cannot believe that you would lie like that! You certainly are lucky that the headmaster has discouraged corporal punishment in this school Mr. Potter. Otherwise believe me when I say that you would be bent over right now receiving six of the best from my cane.' Harry flinched at that comment.

'Well Professor, technically I hadn't said that you transfigure students. I just mentioned that I had seen you change a student back from a ferret. And that the same student had been bounced quite a few times before you had reversed the transfiguration,' Harry said quickly, mounting the defence he had been working on since last night. 'I guess in hindsight I should have worded my sentence differently. I certainly didn't mean to make them think that you transfigured students as a punishment!' he said with as much remorse he could manage, bowing his head and making his eyes as wide and innocent as possible, portraying the image of a very sorry schoolboy indeed.

Despite her best efforts, Professor McGonagall's lips twitched. That expression was so like his father's, and the green eyes of his mother's only served to enhance the effect. She was also sure that she saw a bit of Sirius in there too. She would've been able to deal with either of the three of them individually, but with all three together clumped in one package ... she couldn't find it within herself to stay angry. Besides, never in her entire career had she experienced the novelty of such a quiet and unfailingly polite batch of first-years. They were more afraid of her than they were of Severus!

'Well, Mr. Potter, do see that it doesn't happen again,' she said dryly. Innocent, heart melting expression or not, she had enough experience to know that the rapscallion was putting on an act. 'Or you will be feeling what six of the best can do to you!'

'You wouldn't,' Harry gasped the last bit out. He was certain that she was joking, but the tone of her voice was too serious for him to be sure.

'You're right, I wouldn't.' She paused for effect, 'I would increase it to nine, and your trousers and pants would be around your ankles.' She smirked at the blush that brought up, 'After all, while the headmaster may have discouraged caning, it isn't against the school rules. Or I just might transfigure you into a fluffy little kitten for the weekend and hand you over to the girls to play with.' She said sweetly, 'after all, it wouldn't do to have the Gryffindor House Captain be called a liar now, would it?'

Harry's face turned white at the threat. Inwardly he cursed himself. He should have made sure that the firsties didn't say anything. Those midgets really had big mouths on them!

'Now, Potter, off with you. I'll see you in class on Monday.'

As he opened the door to exit her office a thought occurred to Harry. Turning his head around to face his head of house, he asked suspiciously. 'Professor, what did you mean when you said "that it wouldn't do to have the Gryffindor House Captain be called a liar,"?' Suddenly working out what that meant, he asked incredulously, 'Does that mean that you haven't set the first-years straight professor?' Seeing Professor McGonagall reach for her wand, he hastily exited and closed the door. He didn't want another stinging hex sent his way, nor did he want to risk being transfigured.

Just to be sure, Harry made it a point to get as far away from Professor McGonagall's office as possible.

As soon as he was a safe distance away, Harry shook his head. He really hadn't seen that coming. Who'd have thought that McGonagall was as Slytherin as they came? When she had held out the badge to him, he had picked up the order she had sent his way via her thoughts, as well as a warning that he wouldn't like the consequences. He hadn't dug in further at that time to figure out what those consequences were, since he could detect the mental walls that were just lurking beneath the surface of those thoughts. Professor McGonagall apparently was one of the few who knew the art of Occlumency.

He wasn't too worried about the threats she had made. The fact that she hadn't bothered to refute the rumours that Harry had started combined with the fact that she had made him the first House Captain in fifty years proved that. Not that he was going to try and push his luck.

Checking the time, and seeing that it was lunch, he made his way to the Great Hall where he was joined almost immediately by Susan, Hannah, Justin, Kevin and Terry as soon as he sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Neville.

'So what did McGonagall want with you lot? The other prefects aren't talking for some reason.' And with that question from Susan, the inquisition began.

Harry was forced to recount what had happened in Professor McGonagall's office (minus the tête-à-tête he had after the prefects had left) three times before he was allowed to eat his lunch in peace. By the time he had finished, half the school knew about it.

Deciding that he needed to get away from it for the time being, Harry excused himself and finding a discreet location donned his Cloak and slipped back through the open doors into the Great Hall which was now mostly empty.

Slipping into the antechamber, he quickly opened up the passageway to the Chamber of Secrets. As soon as he was in the Chamber proper, he called his elves to him.

With a 'crack' that echoed off the empty room, Randolph, Dobby and Winky appeared together greeting their master.

'Right, you lot. I want that basilisk harvested for any parts that can be sold commercially or utilized. From what research I have done, that would mean its venom, heart, fangs, eyes, liver, blood and hide. After you render it down, I'll then decide what needs to be sold, and what we should keep for ourselves. The rest should be vanished.' Seeing them nod, he continued, 'After you are done with that, I want you to cast some air freshening charms on the place. Also, I want the place cleaned up as well.' All three elves replied with a 'yes master.'

Smiling, Harry sent Dobby and Winky off to work on the basilisk.

Addressing Randolph, he said, 'How is the team of elves you sent to repair the cave-in progressing.'

'They have made an initial assessment of the area sir,' said Randolph respectfully. 'Most of the stonework can be reused in repairing the place, but there is much material that needs to be replaced outright. I have set them to work on repairing the cave-in using the existing materials for now. But soon we will need to buy stone to replace the bits too damaged to be repaired by magic.'

Harry took a moment to ponder this. Sure he had more than enough money to buy the materials without it being a strain for him. The problem was that he was then going to be doing extra work on Hogwarts without the headmaster's permission. Soon he decided to go ahead with it. He figured that he owned half the castle anyway, what with being the heir of two founders. Besides, it wasn't as if anyone knew of the place or the tunnel to begin with.

His decision made, Harry said, 'Do you have the authority to search for and negotiate with the right companies?'

'Yes sir, as the head elf, I am able to do so as long as the Master gives his permission in form of a letter.'

'Very well, on Monday I want you to scout for the relevant companies and give me their names and addresses. I only want the best of the best. After you give me the list I'll write the letters so you can obtain the quotations. For now, supervise those two and ensure they don't kill each other.' Harry looked at the two elves that now were clad in miniature dragon hide armour and wielding long goblin made knives. 'I hope they behave the next day when you aren't around,' he muttered under his breath.

'Actually sir, I might have a solution for that. I just heard that Kreacher is good at taxidermy as well. He was trained by his parents in the art of stuffing house-elf heads for the House of Black. Randolph cannot believe that he forgot about that!' the elf muttered underneath his breath.

'It's fine Randolph. At least you remembered at the last minute,' said Harry consolingly.

'Master is too kind' the elf muttered as Harry summoned a much cleaner Kreacher and set him the task of helping with the basilisk.

The elf stood goggle-eyed as he saw the basilisk that Harry said that he had killed himself before muttering, 'Master is a powerful wizard to have been able to kill such a strong beast. Kreacher thinks that the head will make a fine addition to the house like the umbrella stand old master Sagittarius made from the leg of the troll he killed. Yes he does!'

'Now there's a good idea Kreacher!' said Harry. 'After you drain the venom from the fangs, and remove the eyes, stuff the head, replace the gouged eyes with imitations and create a plaque to mount it. We'll figure out where to put it later.'

The house elf beamed at the compliment Harry sent his way, and with an excited 'yes master!' joined the other elves.

Suddenly spotting something near the basilisk, Harry darted forward. Bending down, he picked up a solitary fang that was laying a few ways away from the corpse that was now being processed. This was the fang that had pierced his skin all those years ago. Harry looked at the thing that had come really close to killing him in fascination. It wasn't everyday that one gets to hold the very thing that nearly ended their life.

For some reason, Harry felt a pull towards this particular fang. Frowning, he pocketed it. He had a vague idea on what to do with that fang.

Deciding to leave the elves to do their job, Harry left the Chamber and headed towards the school. He needed to hurry otherwise getting out into the Great Hall would pose a bit of a problem seeing as he would be coming out directly behind the staff table.

He reached the Hall with plenty of time to spare. Hurrying up to the Gryffindor tower, he was just in time for Professor McGonagall's announcement which she had appeared a few minutes after him to give.

Harry soon found out what his new position entailed. By the next day, Professor McGonagall had managed to dig out an old handbook detailing the duties and powers of the House Captain. As House Captain, Harry was essentially above the prefects and just below the Head Boy and Girl, meaning that the House Prefects had to report to him. He had to hand out and coordinate the prefects' patrol duties, (something they found had increased almost overnight) as well as review what detentions they had meted out along with any points they had taken or given. If any of the students in the house had an issue with the detentions, they also had to take it up with their House Captain.

Thankfully, Harry managed to smooth out any resentment the prefects had towards him by mentioning that Professor McGonagall had all but threatened him into accepting the position. He may or may not have used his talents in persuading them.

Another thing Harry had to do was approve of the activities of the different clubs and societies that were either in Gryffindor House or headed by a Gryffindor. And that he found annoying as well as entertaining: Annoying, because all of the various club leaders were rather nitpicky, and entertaining because most of them were girls who were rather over the moon with him for one reason or another.

Though, Harry decided as he sat through a five minute meeting a few days later (that was taking ages!) he could do without the fawning of two certain siblings with the last name Creevey. It figured that Colin was the head of the Photographic Society. The hyperactive fifth-year was practically married to that camera of his. He was probably born with it in his hand. Harry amused himself with images of a newborn Colin Creevey taking a picture of his parents' and nurse's surprised faces the minute he was born ... ('Where did that camera come from?') or the look on Mrs. Creevey's face when one year old Colin spit up baby food in her face. It helped in keeping a pleasant smile on his face ... and moderated his mounting desire to throttle the kid. And Dennis was ... Harry frowned, he had no idea what Dennis was doing there to begin with. He jerked out of his daydream. 'Yeah, Colin,' he said, mentally thanking all the deities out there for his skill at Legilimency, 'Good idea. You go ahead and do that. Just ensure that you ask for permission if you are taking pictures of individuals. Perhaps if you offer to give them a copy they might not mind. Now if there is nothing else? Good. Bye!' With that he got up to leave.

Merlin I hate that woman. He thought as he left to go somewhere nice and quiet. Stupid vindictive Scot!

To top it all, he also found himself sitting and helping the younger years every evening. Initially he had no problem with it. But that was when he wasn't obligated to help them. Now ... it was a chore.

At least the upshot of it was that the other Heads were thinking of following Professor McGonagall's footsteps. At least that way, he would have some company in his misery.

It was near the end of the week when he was preparing to go to sleep that he suddenly realised that the thoughts he had read in Professor McGonagall's mind had been sent to him! She bleeding knew! He thought with sudden realisation as he abruptly sat back up in bed. Stupid vindictive Scot...

The bit about Myrtle shagging a living person was inspired by this utterly horrible (and eye gouging) fic I read a long time back that had a Myrtle and Harry pairing ... with Lemons! *shudder*

Anyway, I thank Miss Lalla for helping me with the chapter! You should check her story out it's brill!

Read and Review

16. Secrets Within the School

Before you read this chapter, I have some bad news ... unfortunately this is going to be the last chapter of the story ... yes I am going to abandon it ... I've run out of ideas!

On that note: APRIL FOOLS! HA HA!

Bet I had you going!

In case you were wondering why I am pulling an April Fools prank on the 10th of April and not on April Fools Day, well, it is because everybody expects an April Fools prank on the first ... tremble at the brilliance of my diabolical mind!

Anyway, enjoy the chapter that I managed to type despite spraining my left thumb (I'm left handed, so an injury there makes even shaving and brushing teeth hard!)

Saturday morning dawned with an overcast sky, a lot of wind and a light drizzle. Normally on such a day, people would be lying in bed or staying indoors. However, had anybody in the castle looked out of the window, they would have seen the figures of Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbot and Harry Potter running across the grounds and battling the wind.

'This is getting ridiculous,' said a windswept Neville. He was sure that had the wind been any stronger, he would have been blown off course into the lake.

'Yeah, I think I'll catch my death of cold there if we continue running outside,' said Susan to which Hannah agreed with a nod.

'It's just a bit of rain and wind,' Harry told his friends nonchalantly.

'What?' he asked his friends, upon noticing the looks the other three were giving him.

'"A bit of rain and wind"? A bit?' Susan looked at Harry as if he was crazy. 'Are you mad?'

'What are you talking about? It wasn't so bad,' said Harry defensively. As he was talking, a strong gust of wind rattled the window panes of the corridor they were in. 'I've had much worse at Quidditch practice. And that's when we're flying.'

'That explains it,' Hannah sighed while Susan muttered under her breath imprecations on Quidditch players and what she thought of their mental health. The girls looked at him sadly and for the remainder of the morning till they left for their dorms, Harry had to endure a lot of mock-pitying looks and good-natured ribbing about the state of his mental health.

Done with his classes for the morning (which was partly spent getting on Astoria's nerves, though the girl was quite good at holding her own), Harry headed out towards the Quidditch pitch.

Quite a few people had put their names down to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and it was Harry's job as captain to select those who were the most competent and form a team that would lead Gryffindor into a Quidditch victory, bringing home the cup for the third time in a row since Harry had come to play, and keeping Professor McGonagall happy for another year. The last bit was especially important to Harry as it meant that there was one less chance of the Scot taking out her family's claymore, which he had noticed on the wall behind her desk, and charging at him while raining spells down from her wand ... Or worse, turning him into a fluffy kitten.

Looking at the rather long list in his hand, Harry massaged his forehead with his fingers. At first when Professor McGonagall had given him the list, he had wondered why the Gryffindor team had become so popular. However a look at the names showed him how mistaken he was. Judging by the number of females there, it proved that it wasn't the team that was popular, it was Harry. It definitely explained the amused look on Professor McGonagall's face he thought he had seen as she handed the list to him.

Walking out into the pitch with his Firebolt in hand and a whistle hanging from his neck, Harry spotted the large crowd of hopefuls for the team. He let out a long suffering sigh; this is going to take some time he thought.

And he was right. A good chunk of those present turned out to be from the other houses. Rabid Fan Girls, Harry thought in disgust as they left the pitch, giggling all the way. Getting an idea, he blew the whistle around his neck putting on his most authoritative look as he told them to get a move on. He was rewarded with some entertainment as one half of the girls swooned at the image he was presenting while the other half were left pretty senseless with the amount of giggling they were doing.

The rest of the selection process didn't go that well. He had to find the most diplomatic way to tell the first-years that they weren't selected for the team without reducing them to tears, which was much harder than it looked mainly because of the amount of hope they had shining in their eyes. Though Harry had to give it to them, they had put on a good effort, even if most of them didn't have much experience flying. Some of them had the potential to be great with some training, as he took care to tell them. Harry really had to control himself though when he saw one of them crash into the goalposts, being so surprised at staying airborne for so long. Merlin that was funny!

He almost immediately ordered back the second group of people. They were the Gryffindor contingent of the Rabid Fan Girls. Harry watched with some annoyance as they went back up the stands as and started heckling the other hopefuls. Maybe he should have insisted that they leave altogether.

In the end, after two hours, Harry had for himself three Chasers, two Beaters and a headache. Katie was as usual in top form, Ginny was, as expected, quite a brilliant flier and Demelza Robins, a new find, had quite a bit of promise. Jimmy Peaks and Ritchie Coote, his new Beaters may not have the brilliance of Fred and George Weasley, but they were pretty good in their own way. They certainly had made an impression on Harry, partly being responsible for the headache he now had and fully responsible for the lump he was nursing.

Now all he had to do was find a Keeper. He looked at the stands that were now almost filled with students from other houses along with the rejected players and felt his head give another throb. The lump that he currently had on the back of his head did not help matters.

Eventually Ron ended up returning to the team. Harry was certainly grateful. It meant that Cormac McLaggen didn't get the spot, as Harry coolly told him with expertly concealed relish. Additionally it also meant that he now had some blackmail material on his bushy haired best friend. Harry had noticed the Confundus Charm that she had sent McLaggen's way even if everyone else hadn't. That was rather naughty of her, he thought. At least it would stop her from harping on and on about the Potions book he had.

Not that it really mattered. Harry had, in a sudden burst of inspiration, bought two new Potions books. He had given one back to Slughorn, claiming that it was a replacement for the old book which had been tragically destroyed in an accident. The other he had kept for appearance's sake in class while slowly and steadily filling that book in with the additional instructions and corrections from the Prince's copy. He was also looking into ways to make it seem that the annotations that he had made looked like the words printed by the author so that certain people didn't notice at first glance. Till then he was pretending to have made the annotations after having deeply studied the potion ahead of time.

Harry had also found a few spells of questionable origin on the margins of the book. Those he copied into a notebook to study and test out later. As soon as he squeezed out every last drop of information from the book, he planned to arrange for that "tragic accident" he had told Slughorn about.

Once the trials were over and the team selected, Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent another few hours first cajoling Hagrid and soothing his ruffled feathers as the half-giant was pretty miffed that not one of them had signed up for his N.E.W.T. class and then consoling him after he revealed that he was worried about Aragog's health, reassuring him that yes, they too would miss the elephant sized, blind, man-eating, arachnid and no, they did not hold it against the spider when he and his legions of children had tried to eat two of them. After all, what is a bit of attempted murder between a friend and a friend of a friend? Thankfully Hagrid didn't catch the insincerity in those remarks.

Harry spent supper with Ron and Hermione silently letting the girl know that he knew what she had done. Once finished, he made his excuses and after making sure that he was alone, headed towards the Chamber.

His surprise promotion had set his plans for the Chamber back by a few days, and now that he was free, he planned to use it.

Reaching the Chamber proper, Harry checked on the elves' progress. Seeing that they would be done by the end of the day, he took the quotations handed to him by Randolph which sent by some repair companies for the materials which would be needed to repair the cave-in and the Chamber itself for review.

Looking through them, he chose a company and resolved to have the letter written as soon as possible.

When he was on his way out, Harry stopped at the antechamber. He thoughtfully looked at the two archways on either side of the outwards-leading tunnel. The way they were set, facing opposite each other and exactly at right angles to the entrance and exit tunnels, was interesting. If one looked at it, if the two archways were actual tunnels, the four exits would resemble the four points of a compass.

Remembering what the goblins had told him a long time back, Harry went to the archway to his left to examine it, placing his palm flat against the centre of the surface in order to feel for any carvings or irregularities his eyes might miss. However, as soon as his hand came into contact with the surface of the stone, it became stuck in place.

Harry had a moment of panic when his hand refused to budge. After some useless tugging he calmed down to think. OK, so pulling is not working, looks like I will have to find another way, he thought.

He didn't need to think much longer as at that moment, he felt a stinging sensation in his hand. The stonework then momentarily flashed white before reverting to its original colour, freeing Harry's hand.

Blinking back the spots and recovering his vision after a moment, Harry looked down at his palm. The stinging sensation he had felt a few moments back was gone, replaced by a phantom pain that shortly subsided. Frowning at his unmarked palm, he looked back at the archway.

The stone was no longer dusty looking. It seemed that the flash of light (or was it a pulse of magic) had erased away centuries of dirt, leaving a gleaming grey stone wall that looked as if it had been just built there yesterday.

However the most distinguishing feature of the wall was the large engraving of a snake that dominated it.

Sucking in a breath, Harry looked at the snake. Going on a hunch, he said 'open'. The snake was so lifelike and intricately made that it wasn't much of a strain to say the words in Parseltongue.

With a slight grinding noise the wall underneath the archway (which Harry now realised had a strange set of carvings on them) sunk slowly inwards and then slid to the right, leaving an empty dark entrance for Harry to step through.

Lighting his wand and looking around cautiously, Harry stepped through the entrance. As soon as he was through, the stone wall slid back into place with a thud leaving him in total darkness but for the light coming from his wand.

The darkness didn't last for long as with a hiss, ancient torches came to life, along with a long dormant lighting charm, bathing Harry's surroundings in white light.

Blinking at the sudden influx of light, Harry extinguished his wand, and still holding it aloft, looked around. What he saw nearly made him drop his wand.

The first thing he noticed in the cavernous room he now found himself in was the small piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts. However, those piles were dwarfed by the pyramids of gold and silver ingots that were all just about as wide as they were tall, while being just about Harry's height. Looking closer, Harry found out that all the ingots were stamped with what he assumed was the Slytherin coat of arms; an ornate serpentine S just like in the locket he had seen in that memory.

The pyramids of precious metals weren't the only major feature of the vault (for it could be nothing else but the Slytherin vault). In small little niches carved into the wall, Harry could find small piles of glittering diamonds, glimmering emeralds, and glowing rubies. There were also a few pieces of jewellery there too. Mainly rings, necklaces and the like. Nothing too fancy unlike the locket Harry had seen in Bob Ogden's memory.

A closer look at the coins revealed that they were not the modern day Galleons, Sickles and Knuts Harry was so used to. This looked to be the ancient variant, the edges not the perfect circle of Harry's coins. However, Harry noticed that the profile on the face of the coin was the same. Shrugging, Harry looked around to the other side of the room, his back to the Slytherin Family Fortune.

On the opposite side was a treasure of another kind. Set in a bookcase were twelve volumes of thick hardbound books, still in pristine condition, even if the materials used to make them were of a different make. Harry noticed that the books were actually made of paper instead of parchment. True the paper was not the thin modern Muggle version, but it still was paper.

Harry eagerly opened one of the books. Who knows what ancient arcane knowledge was written there?

However, he was soon to be disappointed. The book he had opened was written in a language of which the only thing Harry could make out was that it wasn't a European language. It certainly wasn't even close to the runes he had been learning.

Putting the book back, Harry did a systematic check of the other books, starting from the bottom right up to the top left. Sure enough each and every one of the books was written in the same script.

It was with a sense of deep disappointment that Harry opened the last book on the top left. Sure enough, it was written in the same flowing script that the other books were written in. Sighing, Harry shut the book with a snap. However, just as he was about to close the book, he caught a glimpse of something written in the first page.

Recognising the script, Harry opened the book to that page again. Guessing that it was an incantation, Harry drew his wand and reading from the book, said, 'annuli apparere' hoping with all his might that it would present a solution to his problem.

Immediately a pedestal appeared bearing a cushion with a ring on top of it. Walking up to the ring, Harry picked it up to examine it. The emerald set into the ring had Slytherin's mark etched within. It reminded Harry of one of those glass cubes Dudley had bought for himself in an amusement park with his face etched inside that had lasted for a week before the fat twit destroyed it. Actually Harry had done the actual destruction. It was one of those few times that he had managed to get away with it and blame Dudley for it. Harry thought it as a mercy killing. The poor glass must have suffered a lot having something so ugly within it!

Reciting the oath that he had said upon putting on the Potter and Black family rings, Harry slipped this ring onto his right ring finger, next to the Black family ring which he had taken to wearing on his right pointer finger with the Potter family ring now resting on his left ring finger.

Immediately upon placing the ring, Harry felt a small niggling in his mind. He had about half a second to think that maybe putting the ring on without having it examined might have been a bad idea when he was abruptly transported into a world of pain as his mind was suddenly and brutally assaulted by information. Sinking to his knees clutching his head, Harry closed his eyes tightly, trying to ride out the pain. Just when he thought he might pass out from the pain, the information flow stopped.

Shaking his head, Harry got to his feet, swaying a bit and silently resolving not to put on strange rings without knowing what they do.

He noticed a pile of documents behind the plinth when he gave it a glare as if blaming it for the pain the ring had caused him. Looking them over, he found that they detailed the location of two diamond mines and one gold mine. He might have to get these checked out, for he wasn't sure what state they would be in after centuries of disuse. For all he knew, they could be barren.

What was interesting however, were the documents detailing the castle plans and the layout of the wards. There were also instructions on how Harry could recharge and take control of said wards from the current headmaster should he so desire. It all but gave him full control of the castle. He would have to think about this. Right now he had no reason to do so, but it was an interesting proposition.

Harry smiled at this; finally he found some documents that belonged to Slytherin that he could read. Sure they were in Latin, and the handwriting wasn't great, but...

Wait a minute, since when did he know how to speak and read Latin?

Harry's thoughts ground to a halt at this. He was certain that he had no knowledge of the language beyond the few phrases and words he had used when casting spells. He looked with suspicion at the ring he had put on.

Going on a hunch, he went back to the bookshelf. Opening the first book which had contained the incantation to make the signet ring appear (he now knew what "Annuli Apparere" meant) he stared at the first page written in the foreign script;

Suddenly the letters in the script seemed to make sense to Harry where they had not done so before. Reading a few lines, he came to the conclusion that it was Salazar Slytherin's journal. Harry was excited. Here was basically the life of one of the four founders of Hogwarts written in his own words! Not only that, but Slytherin was one of the most talked about Parselmouths as well as the most mysterious. Slytherin certainly would have put in some spells written down in Parseltongue.

My name is Salazar and I am the eldest son of the Slytherin clan were the opening lines of the first page.

As I write this, I have completed a hundred and twenty years of my life. And what a life it has been. In the following pages, I have documented all that I have seen, learnt and done. In an effort to make sure that only my true heir can read this, I have translated all of my memoirs which were written in Anglo-Saxon, Gaelic and Latin into the language of the snakes of which the written form I had learnt in the far east.

I do not know, however, if these memoirs will ever be read. As I sit writing this, I think of my current family. I am the last of the true Slytherin line left. Almost all of my sons and family relations have killed each other off in a bid for power and the right to the title of head of Slytherin house and the access to the family fortune it will bring them. To think, that a man would be willing to kill his own brother just for material gain. Oh how far the noble line of Slytherin has fallen: Cousins killing cousins; uncles killing their nephews, and sons willing to end the lives of their own fathers with nary a thought.

In my disgust, I have taken each and every last sliver of gold, silver and bronze belonging to the family, and secreted it away in my chamber leaving the barest of amounts in the goblin vaults. I have also placed modified secrecy wards on all properties owned by me and placed their secrets here in the vault

The world thinks me dead, and I plan on keeping it that way. Godric may think that he has driven me away, but he forgets that the castle is mine. It was built on my land, by my own architects. He also forgets that I have woven the wards, that my blood fuels them. It is of no importance anyhow.

I have sealed away this chamber. Only a pure-blood descendant of mine with sufficient power and the Gift will be able to open this chamber. That should ensure that only those worthy of my title and power shall gain access to it.

I think this shall be a good way to test the worth of my youngest daughter's children. Morag Gaunt may be a cunning and intelligent man from a wealthy family, but I still have my reservations about him. I have watched his children grow up from the shadows. They do possess my gift. The problem is their father's theory on keeping the family magic strong. I am not comfortable with the idea of a person marrying a blood relation to keep the line pure. While His Majesty's family does it, I cannot help but feel that it may diminish the magical power of the offspring.

I refuse to have a magically weak individual be the next Lord Slytherin. Nor do I wish a person of dirty blood to be one either. To this end, I have created these wards. Only a person who is born of magical blood, bearing my magical gift and sufficient power shall enter.

My time is running out. The translation spell took its toll on me. This body is no longer as spry as it used to be. However I am not done yet. I still have to place the necessary spells on my ring to transfer the knowledge of how to read and write in the Language of the Snakes to the next heir. I fear it may be the last action of mine upon this earth.

I have instructed the house-elves to transport my remains to the secret burial chamber where the remains of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff shall also join me later on, transported secretly by the house-elves of the castle. They don't know it yet, and I hope that Godric can forgive me later on. However, this is for the greater good. Our bodies, so strong in magic, shall be able to fuel the wards and magic of the castle, reducing the amount of time it will take for the castle to become self sustaining according to Rowena's calculations. I have also prepared a separate crypt for the headmasters and headmistresses of the school who prove to be the most powerful and the most dedicated towards the school. I am sure they shall not refuse the honour. Their families shall forever think that they have been buried in the family graveyard. Never knowing that the bodies will rest within the school they helped to build and guide.

I have also tasked the small staff of elves to bond with the castle and the witch or wizard that has taken on the mantle of being headmaster of the school for the duration of his or her tenure. The elves have sworn an oath to me that they and their descendants shall obey whoever bears my ring. This is something that I had not expected ... suffice to say, I am touched.

To my future heir, whoever you are. This page serves as my last will and testament. The fact that you have found my Chamber of Secrets and the Vault and can read this proves that you have what it takes to put on the Signet Ring of the House of Slytherin. Bearing the ring makes you Lord Slytherin, the Earl of Grantabrycge, no matter your age. It is my wish that you carry the Slytherin name with honour and pride and restore its reputation.

It is also this old man's hope that you continue and hopefully realise the goals that I had started. These will be clarified in the following pages of this book and the next eleven books detailing my life story.

Good luck, and may Merlin watch over you.

Harry stood there gobsmacked as he read what Slytherin had written. He was sorely tempted to turn the page and continue reading. However, a glance at his watch showed that he did not have the time to do so if he wanted to explore the other passageway, which, if his hunch was correct, was the same one mentioned in the book. So, it was with great regret that he shut the book and replaced it on the shelf. At least, he would have to tell the goblins about the change in his status. He would also have to debate on whether or not it is feasible to have the rather sizeable fortune transferred to Gringotts. He knew that the goblins would have an orgasm at the sight of all that gold. The fortune here was certainly making him feel close to having one! Though it could be because he hadn't shagged in a while ... Harry shrugged at that. He would have to look into that later. Till then he would have to rely on his hand to take care of things.

Stepping towards the vault entrance, Harry wondered how he was going to open the door when it automatically slid open, answering his question. Stepping outside with the sheaf of documents in his hand, he watched as it closed behind him.

Turning around, he headed towards the second closed archway. As he approached it, the signet ring that he had just worn gave a pulse causing the archway to slide open in the same manner. Not breaking his stride, Harry entered the passageway.

He walked through the tunnel, his path lit by torches showing the smooth stone that made the sides of the tubular tunnel and in a short while he found himself at the end of the tunnel.

What he saw took his breath away.

The tunnel opened out into a large balcony carved into a ledge at the other side of the mountain that Hogwarts was built upon. A design that Harry could not decipher was engraved upon the floor. While the balcony was left open to the elements, the detail in the design made Harry suspect the presence of a ward designed to repel the elements. Unfortunately the furniture hadn't survived, as was evidenced by the cracked pieces of stone that once might have been a bench.

However it wasn't the balcony that had Harry's attention. It was the view the balcony afforded. From the balcony, bathed in the dying light of the sun, he could see a green valley with a bed of daffodils at the bottom near a small brook with a few trees scattered here and there. Placed near the brook was a small stone structure.

Inching to the edge, Harry gingerly looked down. The drop was pretty steep. The boy carefully stepped back as the distance to the valley floor coupled with the lack of a railing or any other safety feature gave him vertigo. Turning around, he looked up and saw the back of the castle rising up above him. He had to strain a bit to see the towers, but he guessed that he was below the astronomy tower. He daren't lean back any further for fear of plunging to his death.

Resolving to take his broom with him the next time he came here, Harry hurried back up the tunnel and from there, to the castle. He had Slughorn's party to attend.

More than a month had passed and it was now midway through October. Neville and the girls had improved a lot over that time and contrary to Harry's initial expectations had stayed with the programme. Though, Harry wondered how enthusiastic they would be after the winter holidays.

Due to the worsening weather conditions, the girls had bullied Harry into using the Room of Requirement for their exercises, only using the grounds occasionally on days like today, when the weather permitted it, meaning, according to Neville and the girls, when it wasn't pouring down so much that they would have been better off swimming in the lake with their clothes on.

While the Room was limited in size, using it afforded them the advantage of allowing them to switch to practising their spell-work almost immediately, thus cutting down the amount of time they spent in the morning.

Done for the morning, Harry headed towards the dorms to get ready for the first trip of the term to Hogsmeade. He and Daphne had agreed to meet at The Three Broomsticks for their first official outing. Slughorn's little party didn't count as it sounded too much like a school function, even though they knew that it was a private affair organised by Slughorn and not by the school. There was also the added disadvantage of not being with each other for most of the party seeing as the host saw fit to drag Harry from pillar to post (or in this case, politician to celebrity) to showcase the fact that he, Horace Slughorn, was teaching the Boy-Who-Lived (who was also now known as "the Chosen One").

As he stepped into the bathroom, Harry ruminated over the past month and a half.

The elves had finally managed to render the basilisk down into useful ingredients. Harry was now the proud owner of a large amount of shed snake skin, which while lighter and thinner than the hide of the animal, was still tough enough. Harry planned on getting a pair of boots and perhaps a jacket or two made of the hide. It did give off a nice dark green colour when caught in the light while looking black otherwise. Though, a pair of gloves and a money bag sounded like a good idea too. He certainly had enough of hide and snakeskin to go around! Perhaps he could make small objects to give to his friends...

Along with the snake skin and hide, Harry also had two litres of basilisk venom. The ancient overgrown garden snake really could secret quite a large amount of the stuff. The venom was extremely corrosive as well as highly poisonous. It had worn through three pairs of the toughest dragon hide gloves before it was all extracted and stored in glass jars. For now, Harry had placed the venom in a secure vault in the basement of his Potter ancestral home. He might sell it in the future, in small doses of course, (he didn't want to flood the market and lower the price) but he was a bit leery of selling it. The venom could be deadly in the wrong hands.

Then there were the eyes, which may not be that useful seeing as they had been punctured with a phoenix's beak, the tongue, which may have some useful properties, and quite a lot of heartstrings. The snake did have a big heart ... the joke still cracked Harry up ever since he made it (though Randolph for some reason would have a pained look on his face when it was mentioned ... the elf had no humour whatsoever). And last but not the least were the teeth. Harry had one of the two large fully formed fangs in his trunk. He had no idea what he planned on doing with it yet. The other fang along with the unformed fangs found in the roof of the basilisk's mouth (there were four) were stashed together with the snake's normal teeth.

Once all the useful (or potentially useful) parts had been removed, what remained was the flesh of the snake, the rest of its internal organs and a partly digested Acromantula. As all of these were quite resistant to vanishing spells, it was decided to have the remains transported to the nearest volcano to be incinerated.

With traces of the snake now removed, the renovation of the chamber could begin. While the house-elves could restore the cave in, they did not have the skills necessary to restore the chamber proper to its former glory. That required a different skill set. It was one thing to patch up a piece of wall and make a rough but serviceable tunnel. It was another thing entirely to repair a chamber that was created to be visually impressive.

After that was taken care of, Harry would then try to renew the charms. He hoped he could find what those charms were in the books that Slytherin had written so long ago so that he could fully renew them on his own.

However, that was proving to be a bit difficult. Salazar Slytherin, in his infinite wisdom, had interspersed all the spells he had learnt and invented with the story of his life. While the founder had fully detailed what he had learnt and the process involved in the invention of spells, that was routinely interrupted by details of what he had done for the day after he had finished his work.

Needless to say, it was rather vexing. Harry grumbled to himself as he thought of those books. Couldn't the man have written a separate book listing all the spells? No, he just had to write about his life and put in the spells in the middle so that anybody reading them also ends up finding out what he ate, drank and wore on the twelfth of November Nine Eighty Five. Salazar Slytherin, Harry concluded, was pretty full of himself. Harry was sure that Salazar Slytherin himself was the one who had erected that statue and set the password to open the aforementioned statue's mouth.

Harry sighed as the water from the shower hit his body. After running outside in the cold October morning, the warm water was extremely relaxing. It also let him see the positive side of those books. The books gave him a good idea about the full life of Salazar Slytherin, from the age of nine in Eight Eighty Five A.D., when he could first read and write, all the way to Nine Ninety Six A.D. where, at the extraordinarily long lived age of a hundred and twenty, he had written his last entry and had translated all his memoirs to Parseltongue.

So far from what Harry had read in the first book, Salazar Slytherin was the oldest son of a noble family that could trace its roots to the times of the Roman Empire. In fact, the Slytherins were the members of the original Wizards Council which had been formed by Merlin himself.

Though one thing that he hadn't been able to find out was just how he, a half-blood managed to pass the test and be let into the vault. Sure he had been adopted by a pure-blood and had another pure-blood as his biological father. But it did not change the fact that his mother was Muggleborn. By all rights, he shouldn't have been able to access the vault.

Harry had so far read till Slytherin's life at the age of twelve. At that time, pure-blood children were educated in the ways of magic by their family members. The spells Salazar had learnt and written down (which were easily spotted as they were Latin words amidst a sea of Parseltongue) so far were basically the ancient and somewhat more primitive variant of the modern spells that Harry had learnt so far.

They weren't as polished and refined as the modern versions and they were wordier. For example, the variant of the levitation charm that Slytherin knew had four words as opposed to the two that Harry knew. Of course the upside to that was that there was little wand movement involved in casting, and the spell had a wider area of effect, enabling the caster to lift more than one object at a time with lesser concentration and wand movements, unlike the modern version, where one had to concentrate a bit more as well as include a wider swish. This had both an advantage and a disadvantage. It was useful if you wanted to lift and move several objects at once, but fairly useless when you only wanted to move just one object. To do that, another spell was required and it had even more words. Basically in those days, it was better to just lift a single object instead of going through the trouble of levitating it.

On the other hand, the ancient Latin precursor of the stunning spell (exturbo) seemed to be more powerful, if the crater the jet of vermillion light left behind as it exited out of Harry's wand as he cast the spell was of any indication. And if Harry was right, it was more resistant to the rennervate counter charm, as opposed to the counter listed in the book (eruere ex ignaro).

The method of education was also different than that of Harry's time. Back then they learnt things the practical way. The noble families also kept up the traditions that were there in the erstwhile Roman Empire and this was seen in the small schools that they had established where they sent their children to learn along with other children of the same status. However, the "schools" in reality were travelling scholars who came to the home of one of the rich pure-bloods where all the children from the other families would congregate. The less rich and privileged would generally be allied to a noble family and the nobility would see to the basic education of those children.

As soon as Salazar turned sixteen, he was to be shipped off to one of the oldest universities in the western world that was located in Greece, where he would study about the theories surrounding magic as well as rhetoric. Salazar however, wasn't too sure about it though.

Harry brought himself back to the present as he saw Daphne waiting for him by the front doors near the queue of students heading off to Hogsmeade. The Arithmancy and Ancient Runes classes had been cancelled for the day, meaning that Harry could go to Hogsmeade in the morning as opposed to later in the day.

'Daphne,' Harry said politely, slightly inclining his head 'You look lovely today.'

'Thank you Harry,' replied Daphne with equal politeness. 'You too, look well.'

Harry smiled and offered her a few of the daffodils from the valley. He had taken his broom and had gone down to the dale on a clear and surprisingly sunny Sunday. From up close, the small stone structure that he had observed at a distance proved to be a moderately large cottage. At least Harry guessed it used to be a cottage. There was nothing left of the place but loose slabs of stone which were barely recognisable and a wall weathered by a thousand summers and winters. The untouched beauty of the place was very overwhelming, and the silence peaceful.

'An interesting gift, Harry, I like the symbolism,' said Daphne, sounding faintly amused and a trifle surprised as they joined the queue behind the other students being checked for dark objects by Filch. Harry thought he heard Ron grumble loudly about Filch being stupid enough to want to check for objects being smuggled out of the school as opposed to into the school.

Harry was initially confused with Daphne's words. However a casual Legilimency probe across the surface of her thoughts, barely grazing her developing mental shields told him what she was talking about, saving him from having to admit his ignorance.

'Well, I felt it appropriate for our first date, considering that we barely know each other.' He said smoothly. 'Besides, it is the best I could find that was fresh. I don't think you'd appreciate flowers under preservation charms. I think those are too impersonal.' They barely noticed Ron's yelps as Filch took care to prod him a bit harder than normal.

'I didn't know there was a place where one could find winter daffodils here,' Daphne sounded slightly suspicious.

'Oh, I know of a place,' said Harry offhandedly.

'Really,' her tone rapidly changed to that of carefully controlled intrigue.

'Yes ... it's in a truly beautiful place. A place I can tell you with certainty that no one in the entire school, and that includes the headmaster I daresay, knows about,' said Harry mysteriously. Any further conversation was halted as they both were scanned by Filch for dark objects. Harry wondered why anybody would want to be smuggling objects out of the school, but felt that Filch or the teachers may have had a good reason for checking. Though, Harry did have a suspicion that Filch liked to prod students with his sensor as it gave him sadistic pleasure.

'I would very much like to see this place,' remarked Daphne casually as they set off through the grounds and towards the front gates out into Hogsmeade.

'It's a date then,' replied Harry with a smirk. 'Weather and time permitting of course,' he added indicating the overcast sky. The weather had gotten worse by now.

Daphne hummed in response, 'I think before the summer holidays, and just after the last of our exams would be a good idea.'

'June it is then,' said Harry winningly as they entered the village.

By the time they had reached the front gates, the wind had picked up speed, bringing sleet with it. The young couple had to struggle their way to Honeydukes. Once they entered the shop, Daphne cast a charm on her head which immediately rearranged her windblown hair back to the way she had styled it, thanking Harry as he cast a warming charm over her first, doing the same for himself immediately afterwards.

Harry knew from Daphne's sister that both girls had quite a sweet tooth. Astoria had mentioned once that she used to sneak some chocolates from Daphne's private stash, and had done so regularly till her older sister had caught her in the act and hexed her to next week and back.

Harry thought of the difference between the sisters as he watched Daphne pick out a few bars of her favourite dark chocolates with orange flavouring. While both sisters were initially cold and aloof, with heavy doses of sarcasm in their speech, Daphne was the silent and introverted one, taking a long time to get to know a person while Astoria was a bit more extroverted and warmed up to a person quite well after they got to know her. Despite the rather frosty front the younger girl had put in the first few classes, Astoria had warmed up to Harry quite considerably by the third class. Not that she had stopped on the acerbic comments. Then again, Harry wasn't incapable of returning fire. Besides, irritating her was a lot of fun! She looked rather pretty when she gave him those annoyed looks or when she scrunched up her face in disapproval.

Daphne on the other hand had her own charm. While she was rarely one to speak, and she did not like to socialise much, when she did say something it was well thought out. She also had quite a twisted sense of humour which was rather dark at times.

In fact, Harry had only gone to one of Slughorn's parties with his future wife. Something that Slughorn had commented on when they met him in Honeydukes. The other subsequent parties were with some other girls he had decided to take a fancy to for the evening. Out of them the most memorable one was with Astoria. He might consider taking her again.

Their shopping done, and with three bags between the two of them, Harry and Daphne headed for the Three Broomsticks. Once outside, Harry swished his wand and thought scutum contra ventum in his head. Immediately a transparent shield sprung up in front of the couple lowering the stinging of the strong wind and sleet, reducing it to a mild, albeit cold and wet breeze.

'Impressive,' said Daphne as she saw the shield come into effect. Harry just shrugged and said that it was something he had read a while back. That spell was found in Slytherin's journal and protected the caster from the weather to a degree. Harry wasn't sure if there was a modern version to the spell, but he was rather happy with the current version that he knew, even if it was rather wordy.

While the shield did help with the visibility a bit, their view of the front was distorted as the wind kept blowing against the shield Harry had put up. So it was only when they were within a few feet of the men that Harry recognised Mundungus and the barman of the Hogs Head standing just outside the Three Broomsticks.

'Mundungus!' Harry called out as soon as he was within hearing distance. He noticed the tall thin barman had gone back to the direction of his pub.

The squat, bandy-legged man with long, straggly, ginger hair jumped and dropped an ancient suitcase, which burst open, releas ing what looked like the entire contents of a junk shop window.

'Oh, 'ello, 'Arry,' said Mundungus Fletcher, with a most unconvincing stab at airiness. 'Well, don't let me keep ya.'

And he began scrabbling on the ground to retrieve the contents of his suitcase with every appearance of a man eager to be gone.

'Are you selling this stuff?' asked Harry watching Mundungus grab an assortment of grubby-looking objects from the ground.

'Oh, well, gotta scrape a living,' said Mundungus. 'Gimme that!'

He reached out to snatch a goblet from Daphne who had by that time picked up a goblet with a rather familiar crest on it that had come flying out of Mundungus's case and was lying on the street.

Mundungus never had a chance to get his hands on the goblet as he almost immediately found himself pinned against the wall of the pub, his eyes looking into the twin emerald flames that were Harry's eyes and his throat being held in the steely grip of Harry's hand.

'You took that from Sirius's house,' said Harry, in a dangerous voice, almost nose to nose with Mundungus. He ignored the unpleasant smell of old tobacco and spirits that he got from the petty thief. 'That had the Black family crest on it.'

'I — no — what —?' spluttered Mundungus, who was slowly turning purple. He could barely speak as Harry's grip was too tight. In a dim corner of his mind, Mundungus vaguely wondered how such a skinny lad could be so strong.

'You dare, you dare steal from the house of Black? From MY house? From ME' snarled Harry, his features contorted in cold fury, looking every inch the aristocrat as his grip on Mundungus' neck tightened. His wand, held in his left hand and jammed into the thief's face began to slowly burn his jaw. While the mad glint in Harry's eyes wasn't as intense, it was pretty close to the one Bellatrix had in her eyes.

'I — no —'

'Give it to me!'

'Harry, you mustn't!' shrieked Hermione, appearing out of nowhere, as Mundungus started to turn blue.

The sudden intrusion broke Harry's concentration for just a millisecond. It was enough for Mundungus.

There was a bang, and Harry felt his hands fly off Mundungus's throat. Gasping and spluttering, Mundungus seized his fallen case, then — CRACK — he Disapparated.

Harry swore at the top of his voice, spinning on the spot to see where Mundungus had gone while cursing himself for losing concentration.

'It's no point shouting in the middle of the street Harry. He'll be in London by now,' said a woman with mousy brown hair and inconspicuous clothes who had practically appeared out of nowhere.

Harry slowly regained control of his emotions as he noticed that he had people watching him. His eyes still burning with a cold fury, he addressed the woman in a neutral tone while making sure not to mask his curiosity in order to offset the anger which would otherwise have coloured his voice, 'What are you doing here Tonks?' while her disguise was good, Harry could still tell that it was his cousin of sorts. He still had to get his head around the whole relations thing.

'I've been stationed around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts as a part of protective duty,' said Tonks brightly.

'Is that so?' said Harry calculatingly. 'In that case, Auror Tonks, I would like to make a formal complaint against one Mundungus Fletcher for thievery from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.' Harry used the formal tones as had been described to him in the family books he had read over the summer. He did not know of all his duties or all the societal niceties a man of his stature was expected to know, so he relied on what he had observed of Lucius Malfoy, relying on his Occlumency to help with the image he was presenting.

Tonks immediately straightened up and in formal tones replied, 'Very well, Lord Black. I shall file a report immediately. An Auror will be by shortly to question you on the details of the case at your earliest convenience regarding the items stolen.'

'That is acceptable,' said Harry imperiously. Tonks nodded to the head of her maternal family once and Disapparated.

'Harry, why did she call you "Lord Black"?' Hermione decided to remind Harry of her presence at that point.

Daphne was the only person who saw the small twitch in Harry's right eye before he got himself in control as he rounded on the mudblood who had distracted her future husband with her self-righteous moaning. She was pretty impressed with the control he displayed. It seemed that the stories perpetuated around Slytherin house over the past few years were quite unfounded. This was no brash Gryffindor.

Unmindful of Daphne's thoughts, Harry gave Hermione a look a few degrees colder than the weather as he said in clipped tones, 'That is none of your business, Hermione.' he sort of blamed the girl for her intrusion. If she hadn't shouted so shrilly, he would have all his stuff back and it wouldn't be with that filthy thief. He was also furious with Dumbledore for not being able to control the members of his organisation.

Not giving the spluttering girl a chance to regain her senses, Harry gave a short nod to a very confused Ron who was standing next to Hermione in greeting, which Ron in his confusion, returned automatically, before sweeping around and with a complete change in expression, politely held out his arm towards Daphne Greengrass and upon her taking it, walked towards the Three Broomsticks, getting out of the cold.

By the time he had entered the pub, Harry's stormy expression was completely transformed into one of a person having a good day in the village. 'Not bad, Harry, you handled yourself quite well,' said Daphne into his ear softly, clearly impressed with the way Harry had handled himself. 'Father will be impressed.'

Harry just gave her a crooked smile and with a flourish, guided her through the warm and crowded pub. Escorting Daphne to a miraculously free table set in a corner, he went to the bar to get food and drinks for the both of them.

Sidling up to the bar, Harry expertly got around a couple of third year girls by flashing them a smile and a wink making them blush. Getting to the front, he gave Madame Rosmerta, the barkeep of the pub, a winning smile as she turned to take his order.

'Well, look what the kneazle dragged in,' exclaimed Rosmerta theatrically as she recognised Harry. 'Little Harry Potter. My you've grown up!' she looked at what she could see of him up and down. Unknown to Harry, Rosmerta's sharp eyes, honed from years of being able to spot trouble from rowdy customers even before they did anything, had caught sight of the ring on his left ring finger. The formal exchange Harry had earlier with Tonks had removed the concealment charms on the rings. Immediately recognising the Potter family crest, Rosmerta decided to show him a bit more attention than the other customers. He was a hormonal teenage male after all, and rich to boot. The fact that he was positively scrumptious only served to add to the fun. Sure the other boys were cute in that innocent schoolboy way, but they didn't look as lovely as the specimen in front of her.

Harry blushed slightly. Many a Hogwarts boy (including him) nursed a secret crush on the rather busty barmaid. However, she rarely initiated a conversation with them, electing to passively flirt with the lads, feeding on their egos so that she could get extra sales. Harry was sure that he was one of few exceptions. The looks he was getting from the boys crowded around him proved that.

Quickly taking it in stride, Harry cleared his throat and ordered in his most mature voice, 'I'll have a plate of the house special and a medium rare steak for my date. And a Butterbeer for her as well...' Gulping heavily at the view that she had progressively presented him with as he spoke to her, he finished with a slightly high pitched 'that's it,' before heading towards Daphne sharpish. In his haste, he forgot to order a drink for himself. Something that Rosmerta had noticed.

On his way back, Harry greeted his friends and acquaintances. He also took care to greet those whom he didn't know personally, but had hailed him nonetheless, by name, lifting that bit of information directly from their unsuspecting minds.

Sitting down at the table, he just then noticed Hermione searching for someone or something with a glint of determination in her eyes. Having a good idea what this was about, Harry quickly ducked down and looked into Daphne's eyes, engaging her in conversation and acting natural. The table he had taken was well out of view and would require careful searching on Hermione's part to find.

Madame Rosmerta then came up to their table with their order levitating behind her. 'One plate of our special for the day, and a cut of our finest beef, medium rare,' she floated the plates over to their respective places.

Harry just realised that he hadn't ordered a drink when Rosmerta placed a Butterbeer in front of Daphne. Just as he was about to open his mouth, he noticed the empty glass and bottle of mead next to Rosmerta.

Madame Rosmerta turned to Harry and said, 'I had just opened a bottle of our finest house mead, and was wondering, milord, if you wanted to have a glass of it?' she indicated the mead floating next to her.

'Sure,'

Madame Rosmerta smiled and poured a glass for Harry. It was fortunate that the young lord had forgotten to order a drink for himself. It allowed her to suggest something of a higher quality. Besides, what sixteen-year old would refuse alcohol when offered it? The best bit was she wasn't doing anything illegal since being the head of an Ancient and Noble house gave the boy the privilege of being able to drink something a bit stronger. Not that she planned on giving him anything stronger. She wasn't that bad. Unlike a certain barman who ran a certain shady pub down the road.

As the barmaid left swinging her hips provocatively, something she said finally registered with Harry. Looking down on his hands, he noticed that the concealment charms on all three of his rings had lifted making the stones glitter in the light of the well lit pub. Hastily concealing them again, he wondered aloud, 'Why did the rings show up all of a sudden?'

'That would be because you talked to that Auror, Tonks was it? In a formal tone ... you should have known that,' said Daphne. Harry cursed softly, 'Damn ... it's a good thing that only Tonks and Rosmerta saw that then. I don't know what would have happened if Hermione and Ron had seen them.' he breathed.

Daphne shook her head pityingly, 'and to think that I was getting pretty impressed with you and the way you handled yourself so far ... You still have a long way to go.' The humour in her eyes gave away the fact that she was teasing him.

'Wench,' replied Harry good naturedly. He took a sip of the mead; it was nothing like he had tasted before. It was rather smooth, with a hint of spice. Not like the bitter taste of vodka and rum that he had experience with. 'At least I'm getting there.' he said good-naturedly.

'True, but why do you want to hide your status?' asked Daphne curiously.

'I don't want certain people to know. Like Dumbledore for example, until I am seventeen at least.' replied Harry. 'I don't exactly trust him.' He said cautiously.

'Now I am even more impressed,' said Daphne. 'I twigged you as the Dumbledore supporter type. Father always said that you shouldn't trust a person who has been in politics for so long. Especially when that person keeps telling people he's not interested in running for Minister. And Dumbledore has been at the game for quite a while now, almost a century I think.'

'Mr. Greengrass makes a fair point.' Harry took another sip of his mead, enjoying the taste again, before attacking his food.

They were halfway through their meal, Harry trading a few bites of his stovies for some of Daphne's steak when Hermione finally found them.

'Harry! There you are! I've been looking all over for you ... do you mind if we join you?' asked Hermione in one breath as she and Ron came up to the table. Harry sighed in resignation. He supposed that it was inevitable that Hermione would have found him, even if it was in a crowded pub. He braced himself for the potential scene this would make when he started the unenviable task of telling his best friend to bugger off as politely as possible when Daphne asserted her presence.

'If you don't mind, Granger, the two of us are on a date. Surely you can understand that and appreciate our need for privacy?' she cut in icily. 'Or is that a foreign concept to you?' she sneered. Despite being seated, she still managed to look down her nose at Hermione. Daphne was quite incensed at being so casually dismissed by that arrogant little strumpet. Who did she think she was?

As the two girls gave each other death glares, with Ron's ears starting to turn red at the insult to Hermione as he geared himself up to defend her honour, loudly, Harry frantically thought of a way to diffuse the situation before he was told to take a side, or before Ron decided to explode, creating a scene so big that it would silence the entire pub very shortly. Spotting Katie among the crowd of patrons, he got an idea. Getting her attention he called out clearly, 'Hey, Katie, how's tricks?'

The Gryffindor Chaser, who looked to be on her way to the loo gave Harry a smile and replied with an 'I'm great Harry, and you?' as she approached the table, allowing the girl behind her to overtake her.

Harry stood up and spoke to her for a minute before Katie excused herself. Sitting down, Harry smirked at the success of the plan. His greeting had served to remind Hermione that she was in a public place, making her leave shortly, probably tugging Ron along the way, preventing a potential scene and getting them all thrown out of the pub.

Daphne then spent the next five minutes calling Hermione Granger many creative names and making her opinion on Harry's best friends' manners known very clearly. While Daphne did not rant, and she certainly spoke softly, the vitriol in her words wasn't in the least bit diluted. Harry, not having seen this side of her was completely thrown off balance for a moment. Eventually after some cajoling by Harry and a dessert of chocolate mousse supplied by a rather attentive Madame Rosmerta, she calmed down.

Paying the bill and leaving a hefty tip as gratitude, Harry left with Daphne for Hogwarts. The date had gone so-so in Harry's opinion as he watched Daphne head off towards the Slytherin dorms. He clutched the goblet with the Black family crest that she had picked up which Mundungus had not been able to snatch and handed to him. It certainly wasn't a stellar romantic date of all dates. But on the bright side, it wasn't dismal either. Happily twirling the goblet in his hands, Harry left for the dorms, idly wondering why he hadn't found a single teacher on his way there.

A thank you to Miss Lalla for her invaluable help with the chapter!

17. Alternative Justice

Walking up to the gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry passed through the opening behind the statue without breaking his stride as it jumped aside upon hearing the password he had given. Upon knocking on the door to Dumbledore's office, he entered and sat down across the aging headmaster.

Dumbledore looked more tired than usual today. His hand was as black as ever. But he still smiled as he gestured for Harry to sit down in front of him. Harry kept his face blank as he eyed the Pensieve that was rightfully his sitting on the headmaster's desk.

'You've had a busy time while I was away,' Dumbledore remarked. 'I believe that you witnessed the accident that happened in Hogsmeade?'

'Not really, sir,' Harry corrected. 'Ron and Hermione were the ones who saw everything. I completely missed what happened since I was in the Three Broomsticks.' He paused for a moment before resuming, 'What exactly happened, sir? There are rumours that Sally-Anne has perished in the hospital...'

'Miss Perks is definitely alive at the moment,' said Dumbledore reassuringly. 'Although, it is not known if she will make it out alive. The healers at St. Mungo's are doing the best they can to ensure her survival. However, she has been in significant contact with the curse, so their hopes are dim.' He finished grimly.

'I don't know why anybody would want to kill her,' Harry said. He did not remember much about the girl, except that she was in his year till her fourth year when she had been held back because she hadn't done that well in her exams. Still, he felt the need to say something of that fashion.

Dumbledore debated with himself for a moment whether or not to give Harry additional information 'I do not believe that the cursed necklace Miss Perks was given was meant for her,' he finally said, looking at Harry with his clear blue eyes.

'So it was a necklace then?' Harry sat forward at this.

'Yes,' said Dumbledore. 'A magnificent piece with some truly stunning opals set into it. I would have shown it to you, but the Dee Em El Eay is currently studying it hoping to counter the curse. I am told by the main witnesses that it was last seen in a shop in Knockturn Alley going by the name of Borgin and Burkes. I am sure that you are familiar with this establishment.'

'Really?' Harry raised an eyebrow at this. 'And what else did Ron and Hermione tell you?'

'Well, they had quite an interesting little theory that Draco Malfoy was the perpetrator of the attack,' remarked Dumbledore casually.

Harry rolled his eyes at that. He couldn't believe that those two had shared that theory with Dumbledore.

'What do you make of that sir?' Harry asked respectfully, not letting his thoughts show.

'To paraphrase what Minerva told them when Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger shared that theory with her, Draco Malfoy was at that moment in a detention supervised by her. So he has a credible witness to his whereabouts.'

Harry smirked at that. There was no way Malfoy was behind this. 'I had a feeling that Malfoy wouldn't have done that,' he said. He did not voice aloud how typical of Malfoy that plan was in its sloppiness seeing as he had been victim to similar plans in the past that in hindsight were rather blatantly sloppy and obvious.

'Indeed,' agreed Dumbledore. Harry noticed the headmaster's voice was faintly troubled, but did not remark on it.

After a few minutes of silence Dumbledore spoke again, 'well let's get cracking shall we? I think we should carry on with our lesson without haste, lest we end much too late. Last time we had learnt that Merope Gaunt had ensnared the village squire's son who only a few months later had returned to his senses where he abandoned a pregnant Merope Gaunt now Riddle.' He paused to collect his thoughts.

'I have learnt later on that Merope was left alone in London, abandoned by Tom Riddle and shortly expecting a baby that would one day become Lord Voldemort. How I know this is because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke, the co-owner of Borgin and Burkes, the store we had discussed earlier.' With that he extracted another phial and poured the memory inside the Pensieve. He then started swilling the contents, looking very much like a gold prospector sifting for gold.

Out from the silvery mass came the figure of a little old man, his feet disappearing inside the Pensieve, his hair covering his eyes.

Harry watched as the man boasted of managing to buy a priceless artefact for all of ten Galleons. He shook his head. To think that a descendant of the famed Salazar Slytherin, the one personification of what it meant to be cunning and ambitious was swindled out in such a fashion by the proprietor of a seedy store. It looked like Salazar was right in having taken precautions against Morag Gaunt's offspring. Who knows what would have happened to the Slytherin family fortune had they enjoyed full access to it.

'Caractacus Burke wasn't known for his generosity,' remarked Dumbledore lightly. 'So we now know that Merope Riddle was in a desperate situation. So great was her desperation that she was happy to sell a priceless artefact for a pittance. I am guessing that her husband abandoning her caused her to give up on using her magic as she no longer wanted to be a witch. So great was her depression at being abandoned that she did not raise her wand to even save herself when she was at death's door.'

'She couldn't be bothered to save herself and live on for her own son?' Harry said with a light sneer in his voice.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.

'Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Voldemort?'

'Not entirely, no,' said Harry. He did not mention that he did feel sorry for the boy that was Tom Riddle. 'But Merope had a choice to stay alive for her son, who clearly needed her. Not like my mother.'

'Your mother also had a choice, Harry,' said Dumbledore gently. Harry snorted at that. 'Oh yes, either she dies now, or a few minutes later after Voldemort finishes me off. Yeah, that's a great choice,' he said sardonically.

'I do believe that Voldemort had given your mother a choice to step aside and live or die defending you,' said Dumbledore mildly.

Harry snorted at that. 'Yes, because Voldemort is very well known for keeping his word,' he said sarcastically. Then, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 'How did you know about what Voldemort said to my mother anyway? I don't recall telling you anything about it.' Realising whom he was talking to, he hastily added, 'sir.'

'I heard it from Remus, in your third year,' said Dumbledore calmly. Internally he was cursing himself for the slip. He was glad that Remus had actually said that, as it made it easier to use the misdirection. Otherwise, it was close to revealing Severus's secret. Something he didn't want to happen. He truly wished that Severus would just come out, let go of the bitterness and be frank with Harry. He knew that Harry would forgive the man for his past mistakes.

Harry's eyes flashed green at this. He wasn't sure that he liked people talking about him and his personal matters so openly. He wondered if there was any point trusting adults, when all they were going to do was gossip about his past and personal matters in such a blasé fashion with no regard to his feelings.

'Anyway, where was I? Yes, Merope Riddle chose death over a son that needed her. However, do not judge her too harshly, Harry. She had been greatly weakened by long suffering and she never had your mother's courage. Now if you will stand...'

Harry stood silently, listening with half an ear to Dumbledore talking about the memory that they were going to be entering. He still thought of Merope Gaunt as a weak individual. It was the wretched woman's own fault that she had found herself in this situation. Yes, she had made the mistake of trusting that the Muggle she had ensnared would be receptive to her once removed from under any magical influence she had put upon him, that was acceptable. What was not acceptable, however, was her reaction to her husband leaving her. She should have shown more gumption, in Harry's opinion; she could have used her brains to get money and a good job. At the very least she could have insisted on getting a better price for the locket. Surely, she wasn't so stupid that she couldn't have realised the true worth of the locket that was in her position? And lastly she could have tried to live on and take care of her child. If not for him then for the love she allegedly felt for his father. It was because of her stupidity and bad decisions that Harry was currently in this position, faced with the task of ending the life of Merope Riddle, nee Gaunt's mistakes.

She truly was weak he thought with a great degree of contempt and loathing as he dived into the memory that Dumbledore had extracted.

A few minutes later, he exited the memory full of thoughts. The first of them was that Dumbledore also wasn't above magically manipulating Muggles for his benefit if he saw the need. He had to admire the skill and finesse with which Dumbledore had managed to Charm that Muggle, conjure up the glasses and summon the bottle of gin without so much as drawing a wand. He bet that the gin had a few potions or charms within it too. Surely no one would open up so much after only having a glass or two.

His thoughts were shortly diverted towards the young boy once known as Tom Riddle when Dumbledore started pointing out characteristics he had noticed all those years ago when he had met the boy.

'He also seems to be a bit of a kleptomaniac,' Harry chipped in.

His comment definitely caused Dumbledore's eyes to twinkle in amusement. The headmaster's beard twitched as he smiled, 'I wouldn't call him a kleptomaniac exactly.' He said with amusement, 'but you have a point, Harry.'

'Well he is,' said Harry. 'He likes to collect shiny things and squirrel it away in little hidey-holes, and it takes a lot of effort to get him to part with said trophies. That's kleptomania, that is.'

'Impressive, Harry, you have noticed an important characteristic of Voldemort. He still likes to collect such trophies. Remember this, for it will come in handy.'

Recognising the dismissal, Harry made to get up. However, he seemed to have misread the situation as Dumbledore spoke again.

'Before you go, Harry, there is one other thing I wish to speak to you about,' said Dumbledore.

Half out of his chair, Harry sank back down with typical teenage gracelessness. 'What is that, sir?'

'I heard from Miss Tonks that you had filed a complaint against Mundungus Fletcher?' Dumbledore began delicately.

'Of course,' said Harry calmly. 'I caught him stealing from me! I actually caught him in the act of selling the Black Family heirlooms to the barkeep of the Hog's Head!'

'That mangy old half-blood has been stealing Black family heirlooms?' said the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black, clearly incensed.

'Oh, that is not all,' said Harry to the portrait of his ancestor. 'When I accosted him, he actually had the nerve to snatch back the goods and make off with them!'

His proclamation had all the portraits listening shouting with outrage. 'The nerve!' said the portrait of a corpulent red nosed Dexter Fortescue while another portrait of a gimlet eyed witch said with disappointment and disgust, 'what are times coming to, nowadays? Why back in my day...'

'I hope you have managed to track him down Albus?' said Phineas cutting through the noise being made by the other portraits. Immediately the other portraits quietened as they all trained their painted eyes upon Dumbledore, looking at him expectantly.

'Yes about that,' said Dumbledore. 'I am afraid that with the current situation, I have had to tell Nymphadora to drop the case-'

He was cut off when Harry got to his feet and roared in an incandescent rage, 'what?' which was shortly drowned out by the outrage coming from the other portraits.

Once the portraits had calmed down, Harry quietly, but no less furiously, spoke up, 'what gives you the right to do that?'

'Harry you have to understand, we are at war with Voldemort. The Aurors are spread thin as it is. They do not have the time and resources to find and apprehend a common criminal. Besides, the Order needs him and his contacts. He is too valuable to be sent to prison.' Dumbledore said cajolingly, trying to get Harry to see it from his point of view. 'It is for the greater good. What are a few possessions compared to that?'

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Harry had grown up without anything of his own. Almost everything he owned before he turned eleven was always somebody else's, given to him grudgingly and with contempt. Because of this, he had come to cherish his possessions to an almost possessive level. While he did not mind sharing, he hated it when people treated his things with casual indifference, as if they did not matter.

'I see,' he said waspishly. 'Of course, what are a few possessions when compared to your "greater good"? It really is easy to sacrifice someone else's things isn't it? Especially mine,' His voice shook with restrained emotion. 'I noticed that you did not say anything about trying to even make an attempt at getting my things back from that conniving, filthy thief!'

'Harry-'

'What if I decide to go directly to the head of the De Em El Eay?' Harry cut across before Dumbledore could say a thing.

The headmaster's face closed up, the amount of travelling he had done in the last few days had taken quite a toll on him. This, coupled with the curse affecting him, was leaving him short-tempered and a little irritable. 'Well,' he said with a seeming casualness, 'seeing that as I am the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot, and you are a minor, you will find that the case will be dropped. Add to the fact that I am your magical guardian, well, the case won't even see the light of day.'

Harry reared back as if he had been slapped. Dumbledore's tone was light, but he had caught the underlying steel in the older man's voice.

'Well in that case, I guess this means that the Order of the Phoenix is no longer welcome in my house. I will not have petty thieves in there, so I guess you will have to find another place to hold your little meetings.' Harry growled out.

'I wish you did not do that Harry,' said Dumbledore sadly. 'Unfortunately as your magical guardian, I can still use your house. While I cannot overrule your decision if you were of age, as you are still underage, you cannot make such a decision, as such a decision would rest with me, your magical guardian.'

'Ah, but headmaster,' Harry smiled coldly. 'There is one small issue.' He took a minute to watch the victorious look on Dumbledore's eyes to dim before continuing. 'You see, I am emancipated. The previous Minister so graciously saw to that when he tried to try me as an adult so that he could bring the full force of the Wizengamot to bear. So I am very much of age. And since that decision hasn't been contested for a year now, in the eyes of the Ministry it means that you cannot overrule the decision. Supreme Mugwump or not,' Harry knocked on the desk in front of him lightly after saying the last word.

The boy took a moment to savour the look of surprise and dawning comprehension on Dumbledore's face before continuing. 'Oh and let's not forget that the goblins have declared you an unfit guardian. I wonder what the wizarding world would do when that fact becomes public...' he put on a fake look of wide-eyed thoughtfulness on his face.

Albus cursed to himself inwardly on hearing this bit of information. He knew that there was something that had been overlooked at that trial. However, with the fiasco at the Ministry and the chaos Voldemort had caused once his presence was publicly acknowledged, he had forgotten about that fact. And Harry had somehow found out about it. It looked like Miss Granger was right about one thing.

'I see that reports about you were true,' he said, injecting as much disappointment as he could into his voice. 'Initially I did not believe them because of my faith in you, but I see that I had misplaced my trust in you. I am very disappointed with the way you risked your life by leaving the safety of your relatives' house Harry.'

However, Harry wasn't fazed in the slightest. Instead of the expected look of shame on the boy's face, Dumbledore was very surprised indeed when Harry remained unaffected.

'Well, there is nothing I can do about that headmaster,' said Harry politely. 'After all, it was during the summer holidays, so school wasn't in session. Also you were no longer my guardian by that point, and I was emancipated ever since August of last year. So I am afraid that you cannot do anything about my activities during that period.'

Still smiling pleasantly, Harry continued, 'Anyway, now that we have that cleared up, please do tell the members of your little group to vacate the premises. I am sure that five days won't be an unreasonable time for that to be taken care of.' He stood up to leave.

'Oh, it won't be much of a problem Harry,' Dumbledore replied with equal pleasantry. 'However, there is the small problem of me being your secret keeper. I do not think that you would want to throw the secret keeper of your own house out now, would you? Who knows what could happen.' Albus wasn't happy with taking this route, but he knew he had to do it to rein Harry in. The boy was getting bit of a big head now, so it was necessary. But it still hurt to do so, as he looked at that young face close up, as the boy sat back down on the chair with a look of betrayal in his eyes, before he closed them and hung his head in apparent defeat.

'Harry, I assure you that I will have a word with Mundungus,' Albus said cajolingly.

Before the headmaster could continue however, Harry opened his eyes and said roughly, 'I don't want to hear it.' His voice trembled slightly with the rage and betrayal he felt. To think that Dumbledore had actually blackmailed him like this!

'I should have known that you would take his side. After all, you aren't quite averse to stealing from children now are you? You did steal my childhood from me.' While he tried to keep his tone light, his voice still trembled a bit.

'I don't know-'

Harry laughed slightly hysterically, cutting Dumbledore off, 'Oh please! You know! You know what I am talking about! It's because of you' he pointed an accusing finger across the room at the headmaster. 'That I had a crappy childhood. You are the reason that I had no decent clothes for most of my life until I bought them using my own money! It's because of you that I had to survive on meagre amounts of food ... that I had to live in a fucking cupboard for ten years of my life. AND IT IS ALSO BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I WAS TREATED LIKE A SLAVE BY THOSE FILTHY MUGGLES!' as he shouted the last bit out, his magic swirled, destroying the window.

Breathing hard, he continued at a rapid pace, 'Did you know that they used to throw me in that bloody cupboard without food for a week at the least if I did some accidental magic? Did you? Oh who am I kidding? Of course you did!'

'Harry I swear that if I had any idea-'

'DON'T. LIE. TO ME!' shouted Harry, his face red with fury and his eyes beginning to water slightly as he felt all the resentment he had towards Dumbledore pour out of him. His body sent out another pulse of magic. The delicate instruments in Dumbledore's office, that had been recently repaired, shattered again, along with the vials of memory that had been laid out for the lesson. The contents within pooled out onto the desk before disappearing into the ether. Portraits shouted at the noise this caused and Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix elected to stay out of the fight as he disappeared with a squawk and a flash of flames. It wasn't Fawkes's job to sort through every single fight after all. It was close to his burning day and like all other phoenixes, he was feeling a bit moody.

'You think that I am so stupid as to believe that you didn't know? Huh? Well, I know all about Figg! I know she's been watching me all this time! And she all but admitted that she knew about my home life! Hell, you admitted that fact last year! Wasn't it you who said that you knew what you were consigning me to when you placed me like a fucking bottle of milk on the doorstep of my relatives' home in the dead of the night in November? So don't give me your crap!'

'I also have to wonder why you never told me of my inheritance and why you kept that information, which was my right, from me! I also have to wonder why I had to find that out for myself.' Harry paused to take a breath before speaking what he thought. 'It's because you wanted it all for yourself wasn't it? I bet you were hoping that I would just kick it, that either the cold winter or those Muggles would kill me or that Voldemort would do the job instead. Then you could just swoop in and take it all!'

'Enough!' said Dumbledore standing up, effectively silencing Harry. 'I am not what you make me out to be Harry. Do not for one moment assume that I want you dead to profit from you. I am truly sorry for what you have gone through all these years, and I admit that I made a mistake. However, it is important that you do not become embittered by that.'

'"Sorry"?' laughed Harry, 'You're "sorry"? Oh yes, that makes everything so much better.' He said derisively. 'Why that positively erases all the things you caused to happen. In fact, using your logic, I could go out right now, beat the first person I find within an inch of their life, kill their pet in front of them, and after that, just get away with it all just by saying "sorry".' He sneered at the headmaster, '"Sorry" does not make a dead man come back to life, and it certainly does not erase the crap you put me through. You had a choice to make it right, and you didn't. And I don't care what you say ... you knew what I had gone through!'

'And don't think I don't know about the cloak that you took from my vault and gave to me, while claiming that it was my father who had given it to you!' Harry stood there breathing heavily as the headmaster's face paled somewhat.

'I think we are done here, professor,' he continued in a calmer tone. 'Now I know that you are nothing but a manipulative, conniving, backstabbing old man who likes to steal from orphans and looks out for his own interests. I cannot believe that a person like you ever managed to become the headmaster of a school.' He swiped at his eyes and inhaled deeply to clear his nose. 'Unfortunately, while I would like to do nothing but stay away from you, with the current climate, it isn't that possible. I will be here for the next lesson. But you are deluded if you think that I will ever forgive you.'

With that hate filled statement, Harry turned around and stomped his way to the door. However, when he roughly grabbed the knob, he found it locked.

'Let. Me. OUT!' His face, which was already splotchy from the shouting that he was doing, steadily started returned to a deep crimson, as he turned around to face the headmaster and shouted out those words. His rage, that had been tempered somewhat, came back in full force.

'Not until we have cleared the air between us,' said Dumbledore firmly. He knew that he had to fix this, and fast.

Harry just growled in response, as he clenched his hands into trembling fists, all the remaining control he had slowly slipping away.

'Fine, you want to play this game? Then FINE!' He turned around and put his hand on the doorknob. 'Open in the name of Lord Slytherin' he hissed in Parseltongue, going on a hunch.

He smiled in triumph as the ring in his right hand flared before the door to Dumbledore's office unlocked with a smart click.

Smiling savagely at the shocked look Dumbledore's face, Harry yanked open the door.

'Harry if you walk out of that door, I will put you in detention,' Dumbledore said warningly, playing his last card in desperation.

'If you do that or anything else, then I will take it up with the board of Governors,' replied Harry vindictively. 'I bet that they and a certain reporter by the name of Rita Skeeter will be interested in hearing that the great Albus Dumbledore wishes to keep a student with him locked in his office ... think on how that will look ... old decapentagenarian in a position of power, attempting to lock a young sixteen year old student in his office with threats and attempting to abuse his authority ... I am sure that will go down well with the rest of the world. I wonder what Voldemort would do?'Not waiting for a response, he walked out, slamming the door behind him with so much force that the remaining instruments that had survived the magical assault trembled before they tipped over from their tables to break on the floor.

Dumbledore sighed. 'That went well,' he muttered to himself as he surveyed his recently destroyed office. He smiled when he noticed that one of his inventions had survived the magical assault and the door slam. That smile soon disappeared when the delicate instrument slowly, but with increasing speed, fell apart, taking the table with it.

'Disgraceful,' said the portrait of the gimlet eyed witch as she eyed Albus. 'While I admit that the boy had been far out of line in talking to you, and would, if the situation were any different, richly deserve a good birching for his impertinence, I cannot help but sympathise with him. You have done him a grave injustice, Dumbledore.'

'I agree,' said the portrait of the corpulent wizard. 'If half of what the boy had said and accused you of was true, then he would be well within his rights to file a complaint against you. That he has not done so, despite knowing of what you have done to him for so long only shows his Gryffindor control.'

'Or it shows his Slytherin cunning,' said the portrait of Dilys Derwent. This sparked off a quiet but heated debate with three other portraits near her as to which characteristics Harry Potter showed best, and what house he was in, completely forgetting that the boy was in Gryffindor.

'I cannot believe that you would let a petty criminal get away with this,' said Albus's former employer and predecessor, Armando Dippet. His proclamation was met in agreement by the other portraits, the most vocal of whom were Dexter Fortescue and the gimlet-eyed witch.

Dumbledore sighed. 'I think you may have a point there,' he addressed the portraits at large. 'However, Mundungus Fletcher is the kind of criminal who is capable of disappearing rather well. It would be folly to hunt for him when we have matters of a more dire nature to deal with. Even if a complaint were to be made, the case would be given little importance.'

'You could have just explained that to the boy, Albus,' said another portrait softly. 'Surely he would have understood? After all, you did speak highly of him. You would have saved yourself unnecessary pain and drama if you had frankly told him why you did what you did.'

'I may have forgotten myself,' said Dumbledore slowly. Just now he realised how badly he had acted in the heat of the moment. Something he hadn't done in a long time. 'Alas, I fear that in my tiredness I acted foolishly.' He sat in silent contemplation for a moment, his head in his hands, 'It is going to take a lot of work to mend this fence.' He sighed tiredly. 'Also, I will have to address the issue of the life to which I had consigned young Harry all those years ago. Clearly the lad still has issues ... I have much to atone for.' And he has raised a lot of questions as well. How, for one, did he manage to unlock the door without my permission? The Parseltongue command overriding his wishes had really jarred Albus. He had felt the faint and minute shift in the wards before they had settled back into his control. He hoped that Voldemort hadn't found out this titbit of information. Otherwise he would be marching into the gates of Hogwarts the next day. And he would be completely unopposed.

The ensuing silence was broken by a shouted, 'Hufflepuff!' from one of the portraits engaged in the House Debate. The occupant looked around shiftily and noticing the attention he was getting, cleared his throat and giving a fake yawn, dropped his head on the desk in front of him.

In all the confusion caused in the wake of Harry's departure, one portrait had not said anything. The occupant within it had watched with shrewd eyes as the boy raged at the headmaster and left the office in such a spectacular fashion. He had noticed a slight pull towards the boy when the child had entered the office for the first time. From experience he knew that it was the same pull a portrait feels towards the current head of the family. It was only because of this initial pull that he noticed the increase in that feeling when the boy had issued that command and made that declaration.

However he had no time to ponder that at the moment, since he had a descendant as well as an heir of one of the Founders to help out. Never mind that he still had no idea how said descendant came about.

Slipping out of his portrait, he passed through several others before he found his target approaching his current location.

Harry swept through the corridors, his mouth twisted in a rictus of anger and rage. He badly felt like causing violence and a small part of him was hoping for an opportunity to carry out that urge on somebody. Hopefully, Malfoy or Snape would turn around a corner soon. Well maybe not Snape. The man did have quite a repertoire of spells. His classes showed at least that much. Harry did not want his arse handed to him, thank you very much, especially not by the one person whom he loathed with every fibre of his being.

Thinking of Snape got him thinking about Dumbledore and how the old man had treated him. That inevitably got Harry's blood racing with even more renewed rage.

Dumbledore, thought Harry with a new sense of loathing, breathing heavily as he stopped walking. It was because of that man that Harry had suffered so. Voldemort might be the reason for Harry's parents dying, and he may be a psycho after Harry's blood, and Harry may hate Voldemort with as much vehemence as Voldemort hated him, but it was Dumbledore that Harry currently hated the most.

While Harry hated Voldemort, he knew where he stood with that wizard. Each wanted the other dead; there was no doubt about that. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was far more insidious. He pretended to have Harry's best interests at heart but at the same time had planned and plotted to make sure that Harry was as miserable as ever. He, unlike Voldemort, seemed to want Harry alive for his plans. Harry imagined Dumbledore sitting in his office, popping a sherbet lemon in his mouth and laughing his head off as he planned on new ways to make Harry's life a living hell. He even imagined the man currently finding new ways to make Harry's life hell for what had transpired in the office.

Harry had no idea why Dumbledore wanted that, and right then decided that he did not care about the why; he didn't care if the headmaster was doing this on purpose, nor if he really had no clue about how Harry's life had been. All he knew was his newfound hatred for that old man. And this time, he found himself reacting to this in a different way.

Instead of raging at the world, and fighting down the urge to storm back into the headmaster's office hexing the man, Harry actually felt in control of himself.

No longer did he feel the white hot rage of justified righteous anger. Instead he felt cool and in control of his emotions as that anger bled away. He realised that he needed time to make plots of his own and level the playing field before he decided to take down the venerable headmaster.

He no longer wished to just finish Voldemort and be done with it. No, he now had two targets if he wanted to get on with his life.

His breathing slowed and his expression soon settled down. He did not even have to put in any effort to lock his emotions away, as he now felt more at peace with himself.

A discreet cough bought him out of his musings.

Looking up he saw Phineas Nigellus Black crowding three very disgruntled witches who looked to be in the middle of making a potion.

'Good to see that you have regained control of yourself, Lord Slytherin. Or is it Black? I'm not so sure...' He lifted an enquiring eyebrow at Harry.

Harry kept a carefully blank expression on his face as he looked at the painting of his great-great-great grandfather. 'I have no idea what you are talking about.'

Phineas just ignored him as he thought aloud, 'Or is it Lord Potter? Then again, I do recall the Potters gaining the titles and privileges that came with uniting with the House of Gryffindor...' he fixed Harry with a shrewd look.

'Any one of the three will be fine professor,' said Harry blandly, betraying a little of his irritation, 'And it will be four ten years from now. Is there anything I can help you with, professor?'

Phineas was impressed with the boy's command of his emotions. Even for a budding Occlumens, such control was hard to obtain. 'No, it is I who can be of help to you.' Upon seeing Harry's surprised look he continued, 'You being the first Lord Slytherin in centuries has already gained some loyalty from me as I was once a Slytherin myself. But on top of that, as the current head of the Black family and my descendant, and I noticed the resemblance to my late descendant by the way - it was perhaps wise of him to magically adopt you into the family, I feel it my duty to help you out in your time of need.' He finished with a dignified air.

'In what manner exactly?' asked Harry, amused.

'In that little pest problem of yours, of course,' seeing that he had Harry's undivided attention, he smirked and continued. 'Back in my day, the old families knew about the true value of house-elves. They were especially useful in tracking down people for us...' Here he trailed of suggestively.

Harry smirked coldly, as his eyes flashed an intense green. 'Why thank you for your help professor Black.'

'Don't mention it, lad. It is my obligation after all to see to the Black family's reputation. And scoundrels such as that thief do not help that reputation. Now I shall bid you adieu.'

'One last thing,' said Harry before Phineas could leave. 'How did you know that I am Lord Slytherin?'

'Are you daft boy?' said Phineas irritably, 'I heard you announce it! The whole room heard you announce it!'

'But I had said that in Parseltongue. I could have said anything really...' Harry defended himself. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 'Since when do you understand Parseltongue?'

'That was Parseltongue?' Phineas sounded surprised. 'Hmmm ... old Salazar Slytherin must have placed an enchantment on the portraits then ... this bears thinking about...'

'Ensure that the portraits do not tell anyone of my status,' Harry told Phineas' retreating back. The former headmaster only gave a wave in response as he left the portrait, leaving three gaping old witches in his wake along with the occupants of the other portraits.

'Lord Slytherin.' They curtsied as one, followed by the other portraits bowing or curtsying and before Harry knew it, the suits of armour were doing the same.

Harry sighed softly and said commandingly, 'This does not reach the ears of anybody living and that is an order.' He flashed his ring, getting nods of assent and wide eyed looks from the portraits as they too felt the pull towards him.

'Good, now if you don't mind I have some plotting to do.' With that Harry turned around and walked away. Entering an empty classroom, he closed the door and cast a locking charm on it. Making sure that nobody was there, he called for Kreacher.

With a pop the house-elf appeared. His hands were bandaged from the punishment Kreacher had given himself for not telling his master that Mundungus had stolen possessions from the House of Black when Harry had called him the previous day and had angrily asked the elf why he had not been informed about the theft.

'Kreacher, I have a job for you. I want you to find Mundungus and capture him.'

Immediately the forlorn looking elf perked up. 'Master is wanting Kreacher to bring vile thief?'

'Yes, track him down and ambush him when you have the chance. Use any means necessary. Just don't harm him permanently. We do want to know where he has kept the stuff he has stolen from us after all...'

'Yes master,' the house-elf started bouncing excitedly. 'Kreacher will do.'

'Good,' said Harry. 'Put him in the dungeons in Black Castle, and then tell me when you have him. Ensure that I am alone at first, no one else should know about this. Get Dobby or one of the other elves to help you.'

'At once master.' at this Kreacher disappeared with a crack

Harry headed off to the Gryffindor tower, now in a much better mood.

A few days later, Harry was stretching and rubbing his eyes after he put down the second of Slytherin's journals as he thought about what he had learnt of the founder's life so far.

When he was twelve, tragedy had struck Salazar's family.

They are dead! I cannot believe that they have been killed! Mother ... Father ... my little brother and sister ... all brutally murdered!

They had come in the dead of night; sneaking up into the house like the rotten scum they are ... they were let in by our own servants...

It was only because of the fact that I had woken up earlier on to raid the kitchens for some food down in the basement that I managed to escape.

My family wasn't so lucky.

I watched as they dragged my parents and siblings out from their beds and the house, my parents' wands in their possession and my father into beaten and bound into submission. My brother fiercely tried to defend himself, but was overpowered almost too easily. It is no surprise; after all, what chance does an eight year old have against full grown men? When he received that blow, I had thought that they had killed him on the spot.

Oh how I wished that was the case.

The mob had dragged them all to the front of the house and had tied my parents and sister all together on a post set atop a pyre. Then, with my brother watching through teary eyes as he struggled impotently at the hands of his captors, they lit the pyre.

I could not watch any more. With tears in my eyes and only my wand in hand, I ran through the basement passageway out into the wilderness.

I learnt later on that after the screams of my parents and sister had died down, they had broken my brother's legs before setting him on fire as well. As I heard that the same villagers had laughed actually laughed at how my brother tried to run on broken legs before they put him on fire, I nearly lost control.

I will avenge my family. I vow to build a grand castle on the site where my home once stood before those Muggles burnt it down, and I will take pleasure in wiping out the village of Muggles one person at a time as I take possession of the land.

Harry read on about Salazar's initial guilt of having run away and shame of not being able to protect his family melt away, morphing into a burning desire to avenge them. Salazar had then travelled down south, seeking refuge in his father's older brother's house. While Salazar had been born in Grantabrycge (wherever the hell that was), which was the Slytherin family seat, his father had decided to take the family up north to a modest sized home near a village. Harry wasn't sure about where they had gone when this had occurred. For some reason, there were no names mentioned in the journal. All locations and people were just referred to by relation. Harry wondered at that.

Salazar had grown up with his uncle and cousins. At sixteen, Salazar was sent to Greece for his higher studies where after finishing with his schooling there, Salazar went travelling, learning new spells and experiencing new cultures. He had also honed his natural cunning while abroad into acquiring wealth. By the time Salazar was twenty-five, which was where Harry had stopped reading for now, he had swindled, conned, blackmailed and tricked his way into becoming quite well off. Salazar was in other words, quite a successful con artist. And he was proud of it

Harry felt that Salazar had full right to be proud of himself and what he had achieved. All of his victims had been kings, queens, nobles and other influential people of different countries. And none of them had suspected that they had been taken in by the same man. In some cases, they had no idea that they had been swindled at all!

Harry couldn't wait to continue and find out more about Salazar Slytherin's life. But right now he needed to get back to bed. Getting up from the impromptu seat he had made with the mound of money lying in the vault, Harry headed towards the passageway into the antechamber.

Donning his invisibility cloak once he had come out into the Great Hall, Harry used his father's map to guide himself back to the common room. Although, he was slowly beginning to consider using his cloak whenever he was alone whether it was before or after curfew, for that way, the non living yet still sentient components of the castle did not notice him.

When he was with friends or in a crowd, things were normal. However, when he was alone, all the portraits would bow or curtsey with a whispered 'My Lord', the suits of armour would create a major ruckus when saluting and if a ghost was passing by ... well they would just hover there, nod and be on their way. Even the Bloody Baron had taken to nodding at Harry with respect.

Frankly, ghosts aside, the treatment was getting a bit ridiculous.

Of course, revealing himself as the current Lord Slytherin had its perks. Peeves now gave Harry a lot of respect. True the poltergeist used the same oily tones when addressing Harry that he used when speaking to Dumbledore, but the spirit generally stayed out of Harry's way.

Not only that, but the moving staircases would now move in such a way to ensure that Harry gets to his destination in as little time as possible. Harry was sure that the castle had even created a door and an entire passageway once when he was getting late to Defence.

Harry stopped in front of the Fat Lady and uncovered the hood of his cloak. 'Pssst,'

At once the guardian to the common room woke up and seeing him, said softly, 'Yes, Lord Slytherin?'

'Is Hermione Granger asleep inside?' he whispered back. He had noticed her dot in the common room in the map and couldn't tell if she was asleep or studying.

'She's asleep, my lord,' replied the portrait after a moment.

'Good,' Harry whispered. 'Swing forward slowly a bit then, don't open all the way. We don't want to wake her.'

Slipping through the crack, he spied his friend slumped over her homework, lightly snoring with drool slowly soaking the parchment. Harry started tiptoeing through the room before he smacked his forehead, and drawing his wand, cast a silencing charm on his shoes.

Once that was done, he walked as fast as he could to the stairs and was out of sight just as he heard Hermione wake up with a start.

Just as he was about to turn in for the night, Kreacher popped in silently.

The only indication Harry gave of his surprise was a slight inhalation of breath. Quietly casting a silencing spell around the curtains, he turned to the elf.

Despite the bags under the elf's eyes and the general dishevelled air he was giving off, the expression on his face was one of accomplishment.

'So, is it done then?' Harry asked eagerly.

'Yes master,' the elf croaked tiredly. 'Kreacher is finding and putting nasty filthy thief into dungeons in Black Castle.'

'Good,' said Harry. 'I'll pay him a little visit tomorrow. You did a good job Kreacher. I am pleased. Get some rest now. You need it.'

'Thank you, master.' The elf gave a deep bow and popped out.

The next day was a Sunday. Harry spent the day at the school as he normally would, seeing to his various duties and mucking about with his mates when he had the free time. Once dinner was done with and the students had turned in for the night, Harry snuck back into the Chamber with his Firebolt.

Reaching the balcony, he flew down to the remains of the cottage and Disapparated from there.

He immediately reappeared in front of the imposing Black Castle. It wasn't as large as Hogwarts, or Windsor Castle, but it was slightly bigger than the pictures of Eilean Donan Castle that Harry had seen. Made of magically enhanced black granite, Black Castle was placed on a smaller island connected to the larger Black Isle via a footbridge that reached halfway towards the castle. A drawbridge that lowered itself when Harry approached completed the bridge.

Entering, Harry immediately proceeded to the dungeons. The contractors that he had hired to take care of renovations to the interior of the castle had done a good job from what he could see. The exterior didn't need any repairs due to the nature of the material used to build the castle.

Leaving the opulent rooms, Harry descended down towards the dungeons.

Opening the door of the dungeons, he sauntered towards Mundungus's cell. The stench of tobacco and spirits was rather overpowering in the closed quarters.

An Air Freshening Charm did away with most of the stench as Harry approached Mundungus who started stirring at the sounds of approaching footsteps.

Mundungus Fletcher was not having a good couple of days. It had all started when Harry Potter had found him selling stuff from Sirius's old house in Hogsmeade. The way the younger wizard had accosted him was frightening. Since even full grown wizards were normally not used to fighting dirty, Mundungus normally wouldn't have had a problem brushing Harry off seeing as he was a sixteen year old schoolboy. However, he had felt the magical aura coming from the lad when the boy had realised what Mundungus had been selling. What was worse was the maniacal glint he had seen in those killing curse green eyes. Mundungus had once seen Bellatrix Lestrange when he was being led to his cell in Azkaban many years ago when he was serving a short term on the prison. That was one of the witch's more saner moments, and he had caught her eyes. He would never forget that glint that he had seen in those eyes, and looking into the Potter boy's eyes only served to remind him of that.

As soon as he found an opening, he had scarpered as fast as he could, he did not want to find out what the boy would do to him. The burn in his jaw was painful enough, and that was with undirected magic.

The next few days were spent in hiding. He daren't go out in public, magical or Muggle beyond buying himself some rations. He knew that Dumbledore would have been informed almost immediately, and would find him as soon as possible. Hell, he was expecting a full blown Auror search as well. He hoped that Dumbledore never sent Mad-Eye on his trail. He had a good dose of respect and a greater dose of fear for the retired Auror.

He had only stepped out of his heavily warded hovel a few days later, thinking that the coast was clear. He felt that if he sold the items he had pilfered from Sirius's house as soon as possible, he might be able to deny having them. While he did not like stealing from the dead, or from the man's godson, a man still had to make a living. Besides, the boy was rich; a few trinkets wouldn't matter to him. He would just have to ensure that he never saw or met the boy ever again.

Just as he had lined up a potential client to sell everything, which was yesterday, things had gone pear shaped.

As he was reaching his hideout, he heard the recognisable crack of Apparation. Since he was in a back alley in Muggle London, he knew that it could probably be trouble. Perhaps an Auror had managed to track him down. Perhaps it was Mad-Eye Moody!

Acting on that sudden fear, he quickly turned around drawing his wand as fast as possible. However, before he could do much, he felt his leg being grabbed and he felt the squeezing sensation of Apparation as his unknown assailant magically dragged him from London. Depositing him in the cell that he now found himself in and leaving while he was still disoriented.

Mundungus had spent the whole of today looking for a way to get out of the dank and dismal cell. While he had a window, any and all sunlight seemed to stop a few inches into the dungeon he found himself in. The place was so reminiscent of Azkaban, that he half expected a Dementor to come visiting.

So when he heard the creak of the door opening and closing, he readied himself behind the door, waiting for his captor to come in. He would ambush the person, and get the hell out of there! He might even leave his captor inside the cell in revenge, so that his jailer could see how it felt to sit in a cell all day without food or water. Then he would run like hell, and as soon as he got out of the anti-portkey wards that he had sensed around the place, he would portkey out of there!

Harry sensed the incoming spell as soon as he opened the door and stepped through. Using his recently ritually enhanced speed and reflexes, Harry sidestepped the stunning spell with ease, turning to the corner just inside the door and snapping of a quick overpowered and silent Disarming Charm at the crook lying in wait there in one fluid motion, sending Mundungus crashing into the wall behind him before he could do more than gape. It was only because he was so close to the wall that the man was still conscious, if still disoriented.

Easily catching Mundungus's wand, Harry put it in his pocket. Another flick of his wand had Mundungus flying to the ceiling of the cell, the wall on Harry's right and finally the wall opposite the door before the thief was released to come crashing to the floor, a moaning heap.

With a silent Levicorpus sent his way, the thief soon found himself hanging upside down and staring in surprise at his captor.

'Blimey, it's you 'Arry!' said the thief in relief, it was hard to tell who it was in the dim light, but from the green eyes glowing back at him, and the profile, he could tell that it was Harry Potter. 'You come to rescue me, 'ave you? Sorry I attacked you an' all, but I thought you was the one 'o nabbed me! Let me down now so we can get the 'ell outta here.'

Because Mundungus could not see Harry's face clearly, he missed the cold smile on the younger wizard's face.

'Now why would I do that,' Harry's cold and sinister sounding voice clearly registered with the thief though.

'After all, I just spent quite a lot of time having you tracked down and brought here in the first place.'

Mundungus had mixed feelings about this revelation. Initially, he had come to the conclusion that it was a rich pure blood he had crossed who had him captured. He was even expecting Lucius Malfoy to come through the door, judging by the dark and menacing nature of the dungeon he was in. However he dismissed that notion. Lucius Malfoy was in prison and besides, if it was a Death Eater who had captured him, he knew he wouldn't find his wand and backup wand on his person. So he was quite confident that he would be able to overpower his captor. However, Harry Potter was another matter. The boy was clearly powerful. And damn fast too!

'Now I'm going to be a nice person and ask you politely,' Harry began pleasantly. 'Where is my stuff?' He inflected steel into his voice as he asked the question.

'I dunno what you're talking about,' said Mundungus nervously.

'I see we have a bad memory, do we? Well I know just the remedy for that,' having said that, Harry released Mundungus roughly with a silent Liberacorpus.

Sajjeta thought Harry, using a spell that he had learnt from Slytherin's journals. He was rewarded by a burst of lightning funnelling down the shaft of his wand and springing out from the tip to strike the groaning wizard.

Mundungus's body jerked and twitched as it was assaulted with magical lightning that overloaded his nerves. He lasted a whole ten seconds before he was screaming his head off.

When the spell was finally lifted, all Mundungus could do was groan as smoke rose from his body. Harry spent a few moments reflecting on the spells that Slytherin had used. The spells should have been easy to find seeing as they were written in their original script which was so far Latin based. However, either Salazar had a bad handwriting or he was really good at hiding things since the foreign words of the incantation were well hidden.

The acrid smell of burning clothes brought an end to that line of thought as Harry focused on his task. 'Well, do we remember now?' he asked as he dangled Mundungus up by his ankle again. 'No? Well, then a few more doses should do.' With that Harry dropped Mundungus to the floor and shocked him multiple times, causing blue light to reflect off the black surface of the dungeon walls as the criminal screamed and writhed on the floor.

'I-I sold them all! They are all gone, and I don't know who to!' babbled Mundungus as he was hoisted by his ankle again. He hoped that he had put enough of conviction into his voice. Perhaps the boy would let him go on hearing this. Powerful he may be, but he still was a boy.

Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed.

Harry tsked and said, 'You know, Fletcher, I really hate liars. So I am going to have to punish you.' He released the thief causing him to fall to the floor for a third time. 'I think a few days here without any food and a little amount of water should help that attitude of yours.' He turned around and started for the door.

Immediately Mundungus acted on desperate instinct, ignoring the pain, he reached into his robes for his backup wand and pointed it at Harry, sending two stunning spells at Harry's back: One dead centre and the other to the left.

He soon received the shock of his life. The first spell wasn't even halfway across the room when, with an eerie precognition, the teen spun around, and sent off a quick and powerful expelliarmus, and almost instantaneously raised a shield absorbing Mundungus's second stunner as the first one sailed by harmlessly impacting on the wall outside the door.

Harry approached Mundungus's body as he groaned with the latest impact he had with the cold stone floor, the thief's backup wand in his hand. 'Now that was naughty of you Mundungus. Hexing your host like that behind his back in his own dungeon ...' He tsked again mockingly.

'I guess we will have to teach you some proper manners as well.' With that, Harry flicked his wand, causing all the clothes on Mundungus's body and the portkeys he had secreted on his person to vanish, leaving him starkers.

'There we go! Now isn't that lovely?' Harry said in a sarcastic tone. Spotting the gleaming chains, he swished his wand again, manacling his prisoner to the wall.

'There! That should give you the full prisoner experience,' said Harry cruelly. 'Well, I'll see you in a few days!'

'You can't keep me here for long!' said Mundungus desperately. 'Dumbledore will find me!'

'Dumbledore?' laughed Harry derisively. 'Ha, as if! Nobody will find you here Mundungus. You see, the complaint I had made to the Ministry never saw its way to the Auror department thanks to Dumbledore. Besides you are a small time crook. "Small fry" as they say. Nobody will bother searching for you and nobody will suspect that you are here!' he smiled pleasantly at Mundungus, looking very much like a pleased schoolboy. 'Well, I gotta go! I have classes tomorrow, you know ... and McGonagall isn't a Monday person. Bye Dung!' and he practically skipped out of the door.

Once outside, Harry instructed Kreacher to first place an ever-filling jug of water next to the prisoner and then prepare a hot and tasty meal tomorrow evening and place that under a warming charm just outside the dungeon door so that the smell would waft inside, increasing Mundungus's suffering. Kreacher was to repeat the same thing for the next few days, turning the door transparent after an hour or so, so that the thief could watch Kreacher eat the food till Harry got back.

Harry was sure that the thief would be rather willing to talk in five days. While he could have just ripped the location of the pilfered items from the thief's mind, he wanted to do it this way. He really had no set rationale for why though.

Smirking victoriously, Harry Apparated back at Hogwarts and made his way to bed.

A big thank you to Miss Lalla for her help in making this a better chapter!

Read and review!

18. Questions and Answers

Right, before you read this chapter, I should mention that I have bumped the rating of the story to M. That would be because of an implied sex scene in this story. I like to err on the side of caution here. It also touches on the subject of, ahem, let's call it "women of the profession" or "meretrices " ("prostitute" is such an ugly word). I don't really know how much it may offend a person, different people react to different things after all, so I thought I'd give fair warning and change the rating.

Mundungus Fletcher stirred weakly at the sudden sound of a door opening. From the light entering the small window of his cell he could tell that fourteen days had passed since he had been imprisoned. Well, fifteen if you count the one day that he had spent in the cell before Harry had visited him. Fourteen days without food or clothes, chained to a wall while a cold breeze blew through the opening, playing across his bare back, making him miserable. While there was a moderate heating charm put on the cell preventing him from freezing to death, it wasn't enough to keep the cold at bay. As a result of this, he barely had any sleep. What little rest he had managed was primarily from passing out due to exhaustion.

And if depriving him of food, sleep and warmth wasn't enough, the sadistic boy just had toinstruct that blasted elf to place dishes of hot steaming food right outside his door. At first, Mundungus had laughed at this. He had spent two months in Azkaban. A little cold wasn't going to make him crack, even if the boy planned on withholding food! The cell he was in was pretty luxurious compared to his cell at Azkaban (there weren't any Dementors for one) and he had gone through weeks without a decent meal. Mundungus was sure that all he would have to do would be to lounge in the cell for a few days and when the boy saw that he wasn't going to be cowed, he, Mundungus would be released. After that, he was going to show that brat who was boss.

But in a few days, with no indication of the boy returning, he felt his confidence melt away. Sure the cell was more hygienic and he had clean water to drink, but at the same time he did not have any robes whatsoever. At least in Azkaban, the prisoners were given robes to wear that kept them warm. And the atmosphere was such that one tended to lose one's appetite, so going without food wasn't that much of a torture. However here, there was a constant reminder, as the redolence of the food would waft through the door like an invisible Dementor. And just like a Dementor, the aroma would attack his mind and body. Forcing his mind to conjure up images of delicious meals he had eaten in the past while his mouth would start salivating and his stomach would start to growl in protest.

Mundungus could almost picture the fragrance emanating from the plate ... wafting through the grate in the door and slithering up into his nose like an ephemeral snake ... slowly driving him mad with visions of heaping plates of the most succulent pieces of chicken, platters of juicy steaks and tureens of hot soup of many different exotic flavours.

On top of that, the elf would also proceed to show Mundungus the food. While making him smell the foodstuffs had been cruel enough, at least Mundungus could take solace in the possibility that surely the food wasn't actually there, and his fantasies were just in his head. However, the sight only served to bring out the images his mind was conjuring and solidify them in reality. Further increasing the gnawing hunger he was feeling. And to top it all, the elf would actually ingest the food in front of him!

The loneliness and solitude wasn't helping matters either. In Azkaban he at least had the howls and wails of his fellow inmates to ground him in reality. Here all he could hear was the chains as they clinked and rattled as his body shook in an effort to stay warm, and his breath. All other sounds were completely muted.

So it was a completely beaten and broken man, devoid of rest, starving and driven nearly insane with the mental torture, who looked up as his captor entered the cell. He didn't even have the strength to do anything more than weakly sit up and bring his knees up to his chin in an effort of preserving his modesty as he looked into the luminous green eyes of his gaoler.

'Well, well, well,' mocked Harry as he stepped through the door, twirling his wand. He was careful to stay out of his prisoner's reach lest the criminal found a hidden well of strength somewhere and made a bid for freedom.

When Mundungus only stirred a little bit, Harry smiled vindictively. 'Looks like we have learnt our manners,' he said as he brought an apple out from a pocket and bit into it.

'Are we hungry?' he asked in fake concern when Mundungus whimpered longingly, looking at the fruit in Harry's hand. 'I guess you would be ... it has been what, four days? Oh wait,' he slapped his head melodramatically, 'It's actually two weeks! Sorry, I forgot. But then again, I have been spending those past fourteen days having three square meals each day ... those Hogwarts house-elves ... they really know how to cook! Why my mates and I enjoyed the feast they had set up for us after Gryffindor won the first Quidditch match of the year against Slytherin! And what a feast it was...' Harry rambled on for a while, describing in minute detail what he had and how it had tasted.

Harry smiled cruelly as he noticed the look of longing on Mundungus's face. Now that he knew that he had the man, he said softly, 'You desperately want to eat, don't you?' Seeing him nod, Harry continued, 'Just tell me where my stuff is and you'll get your food.' He made a silent gesture to Kreacher who put a cloche covered plate in front of the starving man, just out of his reach along with a warm looking blanket.

'Alright,' moaned the man. His throat was not as parched because he had water to drink. Harry paid attention as the man described the place where he had hidden away the goods.

'What wards have you put there, Dung?' He said emotionlessly, 'I know that you would have a few security measures put up there ... don't lie to me now ... or I will make life hell for you.' To emphasise his point, he toed the plate away from Mundungus as he took another bite from the apple.

The criminal looked at Harry for a second, then at the food just out of reach. Finally sagging in defeat, he rattled off the wards in a broken voice. Harry turned to Kreacher, 'Can you take care of those wards, Kreacher?' The wards were pretty basic and Harry felt that they would not stand up to house-elf magic. Kreacher just nodded once and with a POP disappeared, returning a few moments later with a large bulging sack.

Harry looked through all the valuables within the sack. 'Is this everything Kreacher?' he asked the elf.

'Yes, master,' said the elf after a pause. 'Only, Kreacher has not found master's Order of Merlin and cufflinks and tiepin. Those are being in the family for generations, sneaky thief has sold it!' the elf shouted at the starving man.

'Relax, Kreacher,' said Harry authoritatively. Just then, he spotted a locket.

'Hang on, this looks familiar,' he picked the locket up to examine in the light. And it certainly was, for embedded into the pendant were a bunch of emeralds to make Slytherin's Mark. It was the same locket he had seen around Merope's neck in that memory. How had it ended up in Grimmauld Place?

'It's Slytherin's locket!' Harry breathed.

'Wha,' it is? I'm gonna kill tha' old tosser! He was ripping me orf he was!' Mundungus had clearly heard him as evidenced by the nattering the old crook was doing. The bit of information had awakened some of his spirit.

'Oh shut up, you arsehole!' Harry said with uncharacteristic venom. Suddenly he felt very angry at Mundungus's plans. The twat really was quite selfish! Suddenly a cruel idea came to his mind as, unnoticed by him, the locket seemed to get slightly cold.

'Kreacher, I want you to put this in the secure display cabinet which only I, or one of the elves, can access in the drawing room up in the castle.' Harry said as he handed the locket to Kreacher, still looking at Mundungus. As a consequence, he did not notice the elf becoming tense as he saw the locket in Harry's hand or saw the Kreacher's body visibly deflate in relief as Harry handed the locket back to him. Harry had initially thought of wearing it, but decided against it. Even if the locket did not look that girly, the aura it was emitting was quite unsettling.

'Yes, master,' said Kreacher. He did a better job of hiding the relief in his voice.

'Also, put all the valuables in Grimmauld Place in storage. Anything and everything that isn't bolted down is to be kept in the family wing or better yet, here. I don't trust the Order anymore. Move the furniture as well. They can bloody well sit on the floor when they have their stupid meetings for all I care. Get help from the others if you must, but I want it done and fast!'

'At once, master.' With these words, Kreacher disappeared with the recovered loot.

'Now,' he turned to Mundungus. While he wasn't as angry anymore, he still was seething a bit at the gall of his captive. 'I suppose you have fulfilled your end of the bargain, so here you go.' With that, he toed the cloche towards the starving man who attacked the food, not giving a fig that the steak within was practically charcoal.

Once Mundungus was done, Harry spoke up. 'Well, since I have my stuff back, I guess I should let you go.' He waited for the hopeful expression on the man's face to build up before continuing, 'However, you didn't return everything. So I guess we will have to work something out.' Harry ignored the man's stuttering offer of the name of the person he had sold the stolen items to as he continued brightly, 'Fortunately I have an idea.' And before Mundungus's eyes, Harry took out the criminal's primary wand, and snapped it in half followed by his backup wand. Mundungus looked at the remains of his wands. His wands were the only things that he had to remember his mother by as she had bought his primary wand for him before his first year in Hogwarts in a happier time, before his father had gambled the money away. His backup wand was even more precious to him as it was actually his mother's.

'Hurts, doesn't it?' Harry said softly, as he noticed the anguish on the crook's face as Mundungus strained against the chains binding him. 'Well now you know how I felt when you took my stuff. That was for the Order of Merlin, by the way. This,' he pointed his wand at the pile of clothes that Mundungus only recognised now as his clothes, 'is for the cufflinks and tiepin.' And with a flick of his wand, Harry burnt the garments, reducing them to ash.

Calling Kreacher back again, Harry turned to the elf where he bent down to whisper into the elf's ear. The elf nodded and with a malicious smile, disappeared, reappearing with a piece of parchment and a quill and still smiling malevolently as he looked at Mundungus. Scribbling a line on it, Harry said loudly, 'Kreacher, take our guest to the destination that we have agreed upon.'

'I didn' 'gree 'pon no destination,' said the thief. A slight amount of resentment and hate still coloured his voice as he looked at the boy who he had stolen from.

'But Kreacher and I did,' said Harry viciously as he stuffed the note in Mundungus's hand.

Mundungus didn't get much of an opportunity to answer as the house-elf threw the blanket over his body and Disapparated him from his home of the last two weeks.

Once the familiar squeezing sensation faded, Mundungus's weakened form fell to the ground. The first thing that he registered was the huge amount of snow that his face and body was currently embedded in. The second thing was the cold that was seeping into his body, despite the warming charms on the blanket. Looking up, he was just in time to see the elf disappear, a vicious smirk on the creature's face. Mundungus then observed his surroundings and, as he realised where he was, let out a howl of anguish. All around him, as far as he could see, was nothing but snowy tundra. The wind blew rather harshly as there were very few trees growing. He guessed that the nearest human habitation was miles away.

Hearing the crinkle of parchment as he clutched the blanket tighter to himself, he bought the note Harry had stuffed in his hand. Opening it, he read the one sentence written on it in a hurried and carelessly neat scrawl.

And this is for stealing from me in the first place.

With a groan, the boy rolled over, his naked body soaked in sweat and a look of post-orgasmic bliss on his face as he gazed out into the cold November night, a vacant expression on his face. He could just about make out the outline of the nearly thousand-year-old castle perched upon a hilltop that was the main structure that brought many a tourist to the city he was in.

His breathing now somewhat in control, he tore his eyes from the window and turned to look at his partner, a gorgeous specimen of a woman, just as naked as he was, with a smile on his face, as he breathed out 'That was great.' And he meant every word, since it had been positively ages since he had last done it with someone. Things at school were pretty hectic, and he really felt the need to cut loose ... which is why he had snuck out.

His partner, however, wasn't sharing the happiness he was feeling. He had eventually picked up on it for he asked, 'What's wrong?'

'Hm? Oh, yeah, it was great,' said the girl he had managed to snag for the night.

'Oh,' he had caught the insincerity in her voice and wasn't too sure what to do with it.

'Yes, now if you don't mind, I am going to turn in,' saying this, she turned over, her back to him, as if to prove her point.

'Are you sure everything's all right?'

'What? Oh no, everything is fine, you were great! Superb...' the woman, Jenny or something, said almost dismissively as she snuggled into her pillow.

While the bloke (James, she thought his name was) was nice enough to look at, he was, in her humble opinion, like a Chevrolet Sports car: Nice to look at, but all muscle with little to no finesse. All in all, not really a great experience. Sure he had the stamina, and was rather forceful, but he couldn't bring her to satisfaction. She suspected that he might be inexperienced. Hopefully she had let him think that he was great. She did not intend on pursuing this relationship come next morning.

Evidently she wasn't fully successful as the body next to her stiffened before he said slightly coldly, 'Well, I've got to go too ... Got a lot to do next morning.'

She winced at the cold tone and change in mood. She really hated hurting his feelings. He was a nice enough bloke, rather kind and courteous towards her, but she couldn't help how she felt.

Hoping to salvage the situation, and perhaps make him feel that it was really her who was tired, she said as sleepily as she could manage, 'Well, call me sometime,' as she watched him leave, she was sure she saw his greyish blue eyes flash an intense green as his hair seemed to darken for a second to black from the dark brown it originally was. Thinking it as a trick of the light she closed her eyes and mumbled a 'Goodbye' as he left her bedroom. She was asleep by the time he had closed the door.

Harry seethed silently as he zipped up his jacket and put his hands in his pockets as he left the house and battled the wind as he walked down the road. The neighbourhood was similar to the one he had grown up in, only it was rather windy in November up here in Edinburgh unlike down south in Surrey.

He barely noticed the nearly horizontal rain even though the tiny droplets of water propelled by the wind stung his face. He was currently a mess of emotions upon having found out what was inside that pretty little head of dirty blonde hair that belonged to the owner of the house he had left. His first reaction was anger, but in the cold wind, that blew away to be replaced with a combination of insecurity and uncertainty. Did the girls he had gone with before feel the same? Was it only her? Or was something wrong with him?

He admitted that he was a bit hesitant his first time, but he thought that he had improved since then as he gained confidence. However, all that was now dashed once he had gone through that blonde's thoughts.

Harry kicked at a small pebble moodily, and grunted in minor anger as a gust of wind blew the stone sideways into the street, out of his way. Women! How did they expect to have a great night with him if they did not tell him what to do and how to do it? It wasn't as if he was born with the ability to please a woman!

It was just like Snape's Occlumency lessons all over again. Harry was expected to know what to do without being told how to do it and then judged harshly when he failed to deliver. The boy stopped that line of thought as fast as he could. Comparing sex with a girl to Snape of all things was just wrong! Harry nearly got violently sick at that.

Harry pondered on this problem. He really liked sex (which sixteen year old boy didn't?) and he knew beyond a doubt that he was soon going to be stuck with one girl for the rest of his life (here he shuddered again - any thought involving the words "the rest of his life" was something that gave him the willies every time). At any rate, if he wanted more, he would have to find a way to be really good at it. His newly resurrected competitiveness demanded it at the least.

Not to mention Daphne's heated instructions of making her scream her first night.

But where was he supposed to find the training? It wasn't as if he could read it off a book! While he was aware of the existence of books written on sex, there was no way he could practise that because a) he was sure that the reality was different from what was written and b) what he had read so far involved very outlandish positions that he was sure was only practised in a more long term relationship. Not to mention c) he didn't think referring to a book in the middle of thrusting in and out helped the mood any.

What he needed was experience. From someone who was a professional...

Harry stopped at this line of thought as an idea came to his mind. Something that he felt would not only solve his problem, but also felt great to his hormone driven mind. With half a smile on his face, he checked the time on his watch. It was still early enough, so he eagerly Apparated to a side alley in Princess Street, where he had first Apparated to earlier.

Heading over to a bus stop he had noticed with a large copy of a map of the city pasted inside, he looked for the location of the University of Edinburgh. Finding it, he concentrated on the location and Apparated there. He had a hunch that the university would have a larger computer cluster if Smeltings (if any of Dudley's stories were true) had one. While it was true that he could find an all-night internet cafe, he really did not want to search for one. Not when he knew of a place that could suit his needs.

Entering, it was a simple matter of picking the username and password out of a passing sleep deprived student's head and he was logged into the nearest terminal.

It took a lot of trial and error, and involved a lot of patience in Harry's part as he slowly and steadily found on the keyboard, and typed out the letters of keywords into the search engine (thankfully the layout of the keyboard hadn't changed that much since he had last used it briefly so many years ago), but he eventually managed to get the information he was looking for.

Exiting the University grounds, he went to the nearest phone box and dialled the number he had jotted down.

The next evening he was walking into the lobby of a pricey hotel a bit away from the castle, approaching a good looking and well dressed woman rather nervously. Introducing himself with the fake name he had given the escort service he had called, Harry managed to relax a bit as he and his escort, Victoria, ate a delicious dinner in one of the hotel's restaurants. As dessert approached, his nervousness increased as he cleared his throat and said, 'I, uh, have a business proposition for you.'

Seeing that he had her attention, he continued, 'See I have this girlfriend ... and we've never ... you know, done "it" before ... now I-I sort of want our first time to be special ... so I was wondering if you could help me with that?' he finished nervously, internally wincing at the lame story he had come up with at the last moment. Planning Potter, Planning! He mentally berated himself as he put on a show of confidence he did not feel.

Victoria looked at him from across the table an unreadable look on her face as she looked at the nervous young man across him. This certainly is new, she thought.

'And what exactly is your idea on me helping you, Harvey?' she said. Personally, in her opinion, the tall blonde across from her with those stunning green eyes looked more like a Harry to her, not that she would mention that.

'Well, I was thinking that maybe you could, you know, give me some pointers or something? Perhaps show me a thing or two? I thought that perhaps we could have a few sessions every weekend...' he trailed off nervously.

'What, do you think I'm running, a fucking night school?' snorted Victoria after a few moments of processing the request. This was the first time she was actually approached with such an offer, and she really did not know how she felt about that.

Her client blushed at that and started to stammer out an apology when she said abruptly, 'Sure, why not?' effectively shutting him up.

'Y-you mean that you'll do it?' he said with hope and relief.

'Yeah,' she shrugged. 'It could be fun; you weren't what I was expecting to be honest. Normally, I have middle-aged men as my clientele. The fact that you are young, a virgin, and not to mention good looking are all plus points in my opinion. Though, I will have to ask you to provide some identification. You don't really look that old, and I don't fancy being arrested for statutory rape.'

Harry was prepared for this, so, looking into her eyes, he gave his escort a mental nudge convincing her that she had seen a driver's licence as he slipped a perfectly blank piece of paper towards her.

'Wright, eh?' she said as she examined the sheet in front of her. 'Ha! I knew you were younger than you claimed! You aren't twenty, but eighteen!' she crowed triumphantly.

Harry mentally cursed himself for the small slip up. Thankfully his escort didn't seem to mind as she slid the paper back without comment. 'Right, I think we can do this. I will charge you my standard fare, a hundred quid per night – after all, I'm not your average hooker, but an escort. I estimate that the "course",' here she giggled a bit at the word, 'will take five weeks, so that's ten nights. Of course, it could go on a bit longer or shorter depending on your learning ability, if it takes less time than anticipated, then you save on the cash, which you will pay me after each of our sessions. Of course the fare does not include the premises or any other expenses.'

Harry considered that for a moment before saying, 'Deal.' He extended his hand which Victoria shook.

'I don't really know what your real reason is for wanting lessons, and I really don't care,' she added upon seeing him about to open his mouth. 'But if it is true, then your girlfriend must be one lucky girl ... though I don't know if she will feel that way if she ever finds out ... shall we?' she said as she finished the last of her chocolate mousse.

'Certainly.'

After paying the bill, the two of them went up to a room. 'You were prepared,' said Victoria as she saw him pass the concierge and approach the bank of lifts confidently.

Harry just smiled at her winningly as he (unnecessarily in her opinion) held the automatic lift doors open for her as he gestured her in.

Once they were safely ensconced in their room, the escort-turned-tutor looked at her new pupil of sorts after examining the room and said, 'Strip. I want to have a good look at what I am going to be working with.'

She showed a little of her surprise and admiration at his near-instant compliance and apparent lack of modesty as he removed his clothes confidently, neatly stepping out of his low-waist designer jeans after having discarded the clearly expensive odd coat and designer shirt with a casual nonchalance. Now there's a man comfortable in his own body, she thought.

And he has a right to be too, she opined as she gazed in awe at his toned chest and leaned body. Nobody should be that perfect, was the idle thought in her head as she breathlessly roved her eyes over his flawless skin. Or not as flawless she thought as she saw the almost circular pale scar on his arm. While it was faint, it did add character. She wondered how he had ended up with that.

She couldn't help but quirk her lips in a small smile as she saw the pair of pants he was wearing. 'Cute aeroplanes,' she said as she silently indicated for him to go on.

Harry just shrugged his shoulders as he stepped out of his pants and stood, starkers, in front of her, skilfully hiding any nervousness he felt.

'Nice,' purred the woman as she circled him, looking at him from back to front. 'A good length, uncut too ...' she said as she fondled and stroked him, playing with the foreskin and bringing him to full excitement. 'I approve.'

'Right,' she got down to business as she stepped out of her clothes with a practised ease. 'Let's begin.'

And so started Harry's "education": Victoria gave him an intimate knowledge of the female body. She used her experience to indicate which spots he should touch; when he should do so, and how best to do it, to give the most amount of pleasure.

He didn't realise it then, but what he had done was pretty much silly and unnecessary. After all, the girls his age were just as inexperienced as he was before he had started those sessions. At any rate, a few years later, when Harry was an adult, he would look back on this time with embarrassment, thinking of how stupid he had been as a teenager, and how badly he had overreacted. He would also thank the fates that nothing bad had resulted from his impetuousness.

But that was well into the future. By the end of the sessions, Harry knew all about the finer aspects of the human female's body and how best to bring any woman to moan and writhe with pleasure. This kind of knowledge was pure gold as far as he was concerned. And nobody needed to know about it. This was why he felt little remorse when casting a binding charm on the sleeping Victoria as she slept away the results of his "final exam". He also left three fifty pound notes and a little note thanking her and telling her to enjoy the room as it was paid for as a token of his gratitude as he Apparated to his private valley.

He had progressed quite nicely on other fronts as well. His training, which had originally been set back because of Neville and the girls, had yielded better results. Having others to practise with had helped to increase Harry's rate of progress compared to the rate of progress when he was doing all this by himself during the summer.

Neville, Susan and Hannah were now quite fit due to their exercises, and the rest of the school population had noticed. And their schoolmates certainly appreciated it too, so much so that Neville had just as much attention from the female population as Harry, something that the poor boy wasn't used to. Though he was beginning to get more comfortable with the attention he was receiving, as well as becoming more confident. Hannah and Susan were popular enough before the training, what with Susan being the Minister's niece and Hannah her close friend. Now though, the boys paid more attention to them because of their good looks and toned bodies.

The magical aspect of their training had also made them the most powerful quartet in their year. Neville especially had improved in leaps and bounds till he was almost as powerful as Harry, at least by Neville's own reckoning. He had no clue that Harry was far ahead of him nor did he know that the other boy was holding back and could, if he chose to, wipe the floor with all three of them. And while the girls didn't have as much raw power as the boys, they too were a force to be reckoned with as they had a vicious creativity, coming up with innovative ways to use some otherwise harmless spells in a duel as they used their lower centre of gravity and grace to dance out of the reach of the spells sent their way.

Harry had also progressed to the fifth volume of Salazar's journals, his increased progress was mainly because he had taken to moving the books up to his dorm which he would then read at night before going to sleep and whenever he was free.

Once he had made enough money for himself, Salazar delved deep into magic and its theories, coming up with interesting methods to block and deflect spells. He had also hypothesised a way of being able to actually absorb the magical energy from a curse. His sense of adventure and thirst for more knowledge led him east, to Egypt, one of the premier places to learn about magic in that era. There he learnt of some arcane wards and curses that the priests of the old religion had used to guard the final resting places of their Pharaohs which had been passed down over the generations, their secrets not mattering anymore after the death of their last pharaoh centuries ago. Salazar noted how the once great civilisation was now broken, although the magical society still thrived as it had separated from the Muggles centuries ago when the Christians had first started to abolish the pagan rituals. Harry found himself thinking about what Salazar had imagined of what Magical Britain would have been like if they had separated themselves from the Muggles earlier too, instead of being content with this half-separation.

In his travels in the continent and to Egypt, Salazar Slytherin had heard of a university located in modern-day India called the Nalanda University. Already well-established at that time, the university had a reputation for being the best there is, attracting many scholars from different corners of the world. There Salazar had learnt of many potions which even Harry could tell were the precursors of many of the modern-day potions he had come across. Along with that, Salazar had also learnt of many different healing practices that until then Harry was sure were recent discoveries in the Muggle world.

For example, Harry was sure that the idea of stitches and plastic surgery were recent advances in Muggle medicine and not done in the Magical world. Yet, here was Salazar describing those procedures, as he watched a healer do a nose job on an Indian noblewoman:

I watched with awe along with the other students as the healer constructed a new nose using the skin and flesh of his patient's current nose. Deftly shaping it to the feature the vain woman so desired, and expertly stitching the incisions he had made before too much blood was lost, leaving no scars behind.

The results were impressive. Had I not known about the surgery, I would not have been able to tell that the nose was altered so. I have to admit that the new nose made the woman look much more distinguished.

Harry had learnt later on that most of the procedures that Salazar had described were refined and further improved in the modern Wizarding world. So much so that scars were a rare thing in the magical world. The only exceptions were scars like his which had been caused by serious dark magic.

Salazar had also sought out and learnt from the nomadic men and women who roamed the expansive jungles. They were reputed to know a lot of magic that was native to India. While the university was a good place to learn, it mainly was a mix of the practices brought by different scholars from all over the world, mainly China, Greece and Persia. However, there was little of the indigenous magic being taught there. And that was mainly because of these nomads as they fiercely protected these magics. Salazar had heard story after story of how powerful and feared these nomads were. Naturally he sought them out to find out those secrets.

And he succeeded: Using his cunning and guile, he had somehow, inexplicably, managed to learn some of their secrets. While it was barely scratching the surface, what little he had learnt was pretty impressive.

For one, they knew of some really unique dark magic. They knew how to combine Divination and blood magic to invent some truly horrendous curses that did not directly affect their victim, but affected the victim's life, normally targeting the victim's bloodline in some fashion or the other. For maximum effect, these curses were designed to stay dormant for years, sometimes decades before coming into effect when it would hurt the victim the most.

However, Harry was surprised to note that these people were not evil. While every single one of them was reputed of knowing such dark curses, they had no desire of taking over the world. They were more than happy living alone, occasionally acting as healers, taking care of rare diseases when called upon.

Salazar had also learnt some Occlumency from these nomads. It was mainly because of this magical discipline that they were generally passive.

The one thing that made Indians truly unique was Parseltongue. While other civilisations had their share of Parselmouths, that trait was pretty rare, and thus the magic was not developed. However, in India, the ability was more common. In fact, there was a tribe of those nomads that performed magic exclusively in Parseltongue.

And here came the greatest shock of Harry's life. The ability to be able to speak in the language of the snakes not only was hereditary, but could also be obtained through the use of a ritual.

And Slytherin had managed to get that ritual performed on him. That could only mean that he wasn't born a Parselmouth.

I have become rather fortunate today, Salazar had written. I managed to save one of these nomads from death. I used the life debt owed to me to have the ritual that I have heard of performed on me. From this I will be able to know of the secrets of the snakes, gaining the knowledge of being able to speak to this fascinating animal, much like the legendary Greek wizard, Herpo the Foul.

It is a good thing that he does not know that the life threatening situation he had found himself in was engineered by me. I would not want to be on the wrong side of the curses his kind are known for.

Harry stared at the book for an entire minute. He could not believe that Salazar wasn't born a Parselmouth. Well, there goes a few of my preconceived notions, he thought wryly. Further reading told Harry that Salazar's descendants would need to have that ritual done on them again if they wished to have the ability to perform magic in Parseltongue even though they were capable of speaking in the language.

In other words, only the ability to speak to snakes was hereditary. Harry deflated at this fact. He had hoped that he would be able to at least cast magic in Parseltongue. From what he had read so far, it sounded like a powerful branch of magic.

His hopes went up again when he read the description of the ritual that Salazar had written. According to the founder, the ritual entailed having the venom of a magical snake, which in Salazar's case was a runespoor, injected into the wizard's body with the fang being broken off the snake's mouth but still embedded in the wizard's flesh. The wizard had to then endure the venom for an amount of time which was inversely proportional to how powerful and potent the venom was and dependant on the age and physiology of the wizard. At the same time, the wizard had to kill the snake without casting any spells.

Only after that, when the wizard was near death, would the antidote be administered. If the wizard survived this highly dangerous and risky ritual, they would then move on to the final step. First the fang with which the serpent had bitten the wizard would remain coated in the wizard's blood till all the magical essence of the wizard in the blood was absorbed into the fang and mixing with the now dead snake's magical essence. This was indicated by the forming of a connexion between the wizard and fang. A connexion formed by death, blood, sacrifice and, most importantly, magic.

Harry sat up at this bit of information. The ritual that was described was eerily similar to what had happened to him in his second year. The basilisk was definitely a magical snake, and Harry had been injected with its venom after which he had killed the basilisk almost immediately with a sword. Harry also estimated that it had been a matter of a minute or so before Fawkes had come in to heal him from the effects of the venom. He was pretty sure that he was close to death at that time.

So that meant that all Harry had to do now was to send the basilisk fang he had found earlier to Ollivander with his wand. He was pretty sure that all his "magical essence" was fully absorbed by the fang seeing how he was drawn to the thing. He hadn't been able to go a day without looking and touching that thing at least once. At first he put the cause of his obsession down to the encounter he had survived. Now ... it took on a whole new meaning.

Putting down the book, Harry checked the time. It was the day after his final session with Victoria and it was getting rather late. Making a mental note to write to Ollivander about the possibility of adding a new element to his wand, Harry turned in for the night.

Monday morning was a sombre affair as it carried grave news. After a long battle, Sally-Anne Perks had finally succumbed to the curse on the necklace. After giving the normal spiel of how hard a worker the girl was, and how great a person and how much she would be missed, Dumbledore then told them that some of the fifth, sixth and seventh year classes would be cancelled for the day while the rest of the students had the whole day to themselves. This was done, as Dumbledore claimed, 'in honour of Ms Perks' memory' and also because the Aurors were stepping up investigations as it was now a murder case rather than a case of attempted murder. Naturally seeing as she was a student of the school, the Aurors had decided to interview the inhabitants of the castle they felt would help assist their investigations. Since that list included Professors Flitwick, Snape, and McGonagall as well as Ron and Hermione among other students and teachers, that meant that Harry would have only Potions which was way after lunch.

The opportunity this presented him with was too good to miss. Sneaking out into the grounds wasn't much of a challenge as all he had to do was follow a small number of students out into a surprisingly clear and sleet-free day. From there, he entered the Forbidden Forest where the wards of the castle ended and Disapparated in a whisper.

Reappearing at the entrance to Diagon Alley, Harry activated his necklace and made his way to Ollivanders. He felt the heaviness of the wards as he approached the door and opened it.

'Mr Potter,' Ollivander's voice soft voice penetrated the silence hanging in the empty shop, preceding the man as he appeared from amongst the dusty shelves. 'Shouldn't you be in school today? I was not aware that the winter holidays had started so early.'

'Classes for the day were cancelled,' said Harry shrugging. 'And since I have been emancipated, I am well within my rights to go wherever I want to in my free time.'

'But forget about that. I have a question for you.' he extracted the basilisk fang from his pocket and placed it on the table. 'I recently came into possession of this basilisk fang, and the most curious thing is that I am rather attracted to it. Now, since I figure that I have connexion to it, and as a basilisk is a magical creature, I figured that a wand could be made from this?' he looked at the old wand-maker questioningly.

'Mr Potter,' the older man began slowly, 'You do know that I cannot sell a person another wand when that person already has an intact wand registered with the Ministry? I'm afraid that what you are asking of me is rather illegal.'

'Oh no, Mr Ollivander,' said Harry laughing lightly. 'You misunderstand me. I did not want a new wand made from this. I was instead hoping that the fang can be used as a core and possibly integrated into my current wand. I checked, and the laws do not forbid that.'

The wand-maker's expression relaxed a bit on hearing this. 'You aren't wrong in that respect,' he said slowly. 'A wand can be modified later on in the user's life. Generally the modifications involve repairs ... what you are suggesting isn't normally done. It isn't unheard of, however.' The man paused for a minute, lost in thought. 'I suppose I can help you. Let me have a look at that fang.'

Pulling on a pair of basilisk hide gloves and placing a pince-nez on his eyes, Ollivander began to examine the fang minutely through the eyepiece, humming to himself. After a few moments, which were spent with Harry looking around the shop, he put the fang down at last.

'Well, I can definitely say that you have a connexion with the fang. If it wasn't for the fact that you haven't died yet from handling this highly poisonous item being enough of an indicator, the fact that I can sense some of your aura and magical essence within the fang is more than enough proof. What I am curious about is how did you manage to form a connexion with a basilisk fang of all things? A basilisk hasn't been seen here in Britain for centuries.'

'Oh it's a long story,' said Harry. 'Basically the gist of it is that in my second year, I was bitten by Salazar Slytherin's thousand-year-old pet basilisk which I had then killed using Godric Gryffindor's sword which I had extracted from the sorting hat. I only survived that encounter because Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, used his tears to heal my wounds.'

'"Salazar Slytherin's thousand-year-old pet basilisk"?' repeated Ollivander blankly as he considered the boy in front of him. 'I presume that the snake was in the fabled Chamber of Secrets?' Seeing Harry nod the man muttered, 'Incredible.'

Shaking himself out of his musing, Ollivander returned to the business at hand. 'Well, this helps matters a bit. The fact that the phoenix whose tail feather forms the core of your wand saved you from the effects of the snake venom may hinder or accelerate the bonding, I cannot tell at this time. Normally the two creatures aren't really enemies, unlike, say, the basilisk and the Acromantula or the hippogriff and griffin. The fact that you have a bond with both the phoenix's feather and the basilisk's fang might help, but the fact that the same phoenix helped your fight against the deadly venom might hinder the bonding...' he trailed off. 'Why don't you show me your wand? I will be able to make a better judgement then.'

Harry reached into his back pocket. Seeing the wand-maker's eyes narrow, the boy suddenly grinned and with a flick of his left hand, he brought his wand out from the holster into his palm which he then presented handle first to Ollivander.

The wand-maker only raised an eyebrow at the teen's antics as he took the wand. Placing the wand next to the fang, he bent down to observe the items on the table through his pince-nez, running his finger back and forth over the frame of the glasses as he did so. After a few moments, he looked back up at Harry, removing his glasses. 'Well, it will take some work, but I think it will be possible. It will take time though.' He warned the teen 'A week or two at the most is my estimation.'

Harry pondered at this for a moment before replying, 'I'll get the wand and fang to you just as the winter holidays start then. That way I won't need the wand as badly as I would need it if I were in school.'

Ollivander nodded, 'That is acceptable. I will have it ready by New Year's at the most. A new wand for a new year! I won't charge you for the modifications as I consider this as a repayment for the debt that I owe you. That and the challenge will be more than enough.'

'Thank you, sir,' Harry inclined his head. 'And thanks again for the gift that you sent me. I truly enjoyed that book, as I had mentioned in my earlier thank-you letter to you, the calligraphy and illustration were only surpassed by the richness and depth of the stories written within.'

'It was my pleasure Mr Potter. It is nice to see a young man such as yourself appreciating the finer things in life. Now be off with you, I have things I need to be doing.'

Harry took his wand and fang and walked out of the door.

'And this is for being a smart arse.' When he heard the sentence, Harry immediately dodged to the left, avoiding the stinging hex sent his way. Laughing at the older man's muttered 'cheeky brat' Harry hurried back to Hogwarts.

Hermione Granger put down her quill and sat back in her chair, rubbing her eyes. Opening them she blearily looked at her half-completed assignment. It was already late at night and this essay and to be at Professor Snape's desk tomorrow! That meant that she had less than fourteen hours to chop off the extra two inches off the essay to make it to the specified six feet (she did not want to test the veracity of his threat that anyone who exceeded the limit would get a zero) and write it properly before handing it in. However, she couldn't bring herself to care much about it. Right now her main concern was not on the schoolwork, her prefect duties or homework. No she had other concerns, and they were too many to count.

First off was Draco Malfoy. She and Ron knew that the slimy git was behind poor Sally-Anne's murder. She shuddered at the memories Sally-Ann brought up. She was there when the poor girl had tripped, dropping the necklace which had come out of its packaging. However, by the time she had recognised the necklace, it was too late as Sally-Anne had already put her hands on the cursed jewellery. What followed was truly horrifying. As soon as her hands, covered in fingerless mittens, had touched the necklace, Sally-Anne rose into the air, her arms outstretched, looking peaceful for a few seconds before she started screaming and thrashing about. Hermione and Ron had done all they could to bring Sally-Anne to Madame Pomfrey as quickly as possible. It was a good thing that Ron had run off and found Hagrid.

At first Hermione had thought that Sally-Anne would pull through this, but it was not meant to be. Upon hearing of her death, Hermione felt even worse. She blamed herself for that. If only she had paid attention and spotted that necklace sooner ... logically speaking, she knew that she need not blame herself, but she couldn't help herself.

What was more, she and Ron knew that Malfoy was behind this. The problem was there was no proof! And without proof, nobody was willing to help. All they had was conjecture. And saying something stupid like 'It's because he hasn't been attending his classes and looks sickly' wasn't going to be received well.

A part of her felt that all their problems would have been solved if they had included Harry in the plot in the first place. Heaven knows how resourceful and observant her friend was. While she was good at research, he was good in field work, capable of making creative leaps in logic. And that was without the resources that he had at his command. That invisibility cloak of his, which she was sure he had bought, or had it bought for him in his first year (because really, no invisibility cloak has lasted for more than fifteen years, so it couldn't be his father's) plus that map the Marauders had made would have made tracking Malfoy a piece of cake.

The problem was that Ron did not see things her way. He argued that Harry should not have to worry about such things. That it was their job, given by Dumbledore himself to ensure that.

So that left them without the map and the cloak. And unlike last time, they could not borrow it without asking Harry first. Not only was his trunk so ridiculously warded that Mad-Eye himself would have called it paranoia, but he kept that cloak of his on his person at all times. And he had placed anti-theft wards on his pockets as well. It was a good thing that the wards did not have that feature that could tell who tried to breach them set into them. That way, she could pretend that it was someone else that had tried to pick his pocket and Ron could pretend that he had tripped on his trunk.

Not that Hermione felt like asking Harry for permission either. He had refused to believe their suspicions regarding Malfoy, and that had hurt. A part of her wanted to prove Malfoy's involvement just to rub it in Harry's face.

And it looked like she was going to be doing it alone for the moment. Ron was no longer talking to her, not after the big fight they had after the first Quidditch match. She honestly couldn't understand his problem. Didn't he see that it was an honest mistake on her part? Then he had to go and latch onto that slag, Lavender Brown. She tried to tell herself that he was perfectly fine to go out with whomever he liked, after all, she hadn't asked him out, nor had he asked her out. But a small part of her couldn't help but feel hurt.

Harry was another thing that was bugging her. Her friend had definitely changed this year. And that was evident from the time he had first met them at the Burrow. At first, she had expected a sullen brooding and even angry-at-the-world Harry. She certainly expected it to be so after that argument the two of them had, where she had reamed him good for wanting to run away from his responsibilities.

But this ... this was completely different. This Harry was upbeat and lively. Not to mention confident and extroverted. While everyone else was content to let things be, she was sure that Harry was only creating a facade, hiding his true feelings behind a mask. She was convinced that it would only be a matter of time before Harry finally burst from keeping his feelings inside him. And she was determined to make him open up lest it become too late and they all wake up one day to find that he had done something drastic and irresponsible like running away.

There were also other questions she had for the boy. Like how did he find the time to manage his Quidditch and House Captain duties, go to class and submit all his homework in record time! While the rest of the sixth-years were struggling to understand the theories explained (herself included), Harry was practically sailing through the class. He was now always the first person to get a new spell, getting perfect results minutes after the teacher had made them begin. And he made casting non-verbal spells look easier than breathing.

In other words, while she was struggling to stay on the top five, he was struggling not to become number one. And he wasn't really putting up much of a fight there. While his story of being a natural left hander and recently reverting back to using his left hand explained the improvement in handwriting and spell casting, Hermione, unlike the teachers did not believe that it was the reason for his rocketing to the number one spot in academics.

What really made her scowl in frustration was that dratted Potions book he was cheating from. She wasn't fooled by his lame excuse of having destroyed the book accidentally even though Professor Slughorn had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She knew for a fact, beyond a doubt, that he still had that book. However, he had covered his tracks too well for her to catch him. To think that he had the gall to pass off another person's ideas as his own!

She had initially suspected him of possessing similar text books of previous talented students and using that, but had debunked that theory. Surely, he wouldn't have been able to find books in all the subjects! That and she hadn't seen him pouring over the text books of the other subjects like he was doing with the Potions text book.

So Hermione had to grudgingly admit that Harry was naturally talented. This wasn't an easy admission to make, even to herself, but she had to face the truth. Then again, maybe it was just an act? If it was, his results in his N.E.W.T. exams would reveal that truth...

At first she had assumed that he would be shunned or used to complete other people's homework like she was initially used before becoming his friend and still shunned even after becoming his friend, but everyone just seemed to adore him! What was more; they actually took his criticisms and corrections with a grace that was noticeably absent when she did the same.

The only explanation she could come up with was that his fame and popularity protected him from scorn and ridicule.

What was most surprising were the hexes and jinxes she was sure she caught him casting on Filch and Mrs Norris, and that too in front of other students, who predictably, laughed and applauded. The Harry she knew wouldn't be such a ... bully. 'And what proof do you have of that, Hermione?' he had asked her when she had confronted him about it.

'I could cast Prior Incantato on your wand ... that would show which spell you used,' she said triumphantly, recovering from the momentary shock of him openly challenging her.

'True, but as a prefect, you don't really have the authority to take a student's wand and cast such a spell.'

'Then I could ask McGonagall to do it,' she rallied after a pause. She was sure that threatening him with McGonagall would be enough to get him to back down.

'Well, then I just might let slip that a certain someone cast a Confundus charm. I hear that the teachers take a dimmer view to such charms being cast on unsuspecting students that are doing things like flying ... what would happen then? Especially in this atmosphere.' his tone was normal, but his words were more than capable of freezing her in her tracks.

Hermione could not believe that he had blackmailed her in such a way as she stood there looking at his back as he walked away with an eclectic group of their schoolmates and assorted hangers-on. Then again, it wasn't the first time he had done something so underhanded and sneaky. The way he had manipulated Ron into playing the best game of his fledgling school Quidditch career was quite masterful too. Not to mention the way he had used her when manipulating Ron.

Then there was the company he was keeping. Almost half the time Hermione would see him spending time with a different girl, pretending to listen to one while flirting with another. She still had to figure out why he had gone with Daphne Greengrass of all people and what they saw in each other. In fact, Greengrass was the only girl in whose company she saw him regularly.

He had also grown colder towards them. She supposed that they deserved it, what with the way they kept ignoring him and disappearing off to spy on Malfoy. But it was necessary. Malfoy was a threat. She was sure that he had been given the task of assassinating someone within the school. His targets: the headmaster ... or Harry.

Hermione made a promise to herself then. After all this was over, she would sit down with Harry and they would clear the air. Then, when everything was all right, when Malfoy was on his way to Azkaban thanks to her foiling his plot, making Harry realise that she was right all along, and when Harry had finally finished Voldemort off with her help, she would ask him those questions that were really bugging her ever since she had met him.

Hermione really hated unsolved puzzles, and Harry Potter was the biggest unsolved puzzle she had ever seen. Once all this was over, she planned on finding out everything, all about his life before Hogwarts (a subject she had immediately noticed that he would avoid at all costs) and what he was up to this year. She already had Ron figured out, it was Harry who fascinated her. Getting secrets from him was like pulling teeth.

She didn't stop to think that there were secrets that she had kept from Harry, or that Harry had a right to his secrets just like everyone else.

My thanks to Miss Lalla for her help here.

On another note, a certain word was spelt in a certain way in this chapter because you inspired it, Elvendork Nigellus! I think you know what it is.

19. Relationships

And here's Nineteen! By the way, I forgot to say this, but I would like to credit the Baron Archer of Weston-super-Mare for giving me the inspiration for Harry's little business transaction with Victoria. I also would like to challenge you guys: Can you guess which of his books that scene came from?

Remus Lupin was not a morning person. Normally, since he was universally considered a bookworm (which he was), people thought of the werewolf to be the type of person who wakes up at the crack of dawn and is all fired up from the minute he opens his eyes. That assumption was further cemented when his schoolmates, as well as his closest friends, James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, would all wake up in the morning to find him already dressed and ready for school. It took his friends nearly five years to realise the truth (much longer than it took for them to realise that he was a werewolf by the way) that Remus Lupin took a near hour to get ready for the day. The only reason people thought of him as a morning person was because he would get up earlier, when they were still asleep, and slowly get ready for the day by the time his friends and dorm mates had woken up. Remus' condition made it so that he was more nocturnal than diurnal. A night owl more than an early bird in other words. In his earlier years, he had managed to force his body to sleep earlier than usual in order to be awake a bit earlier so that he could attend his classes. However, that conditioning was all shot to hell when he turned fifteen, finally revealing the fact that he was not the stereotypical studious bookworm. Initially, he would go through the first few hours of the morning in a twilight zone, not exactly awake, but not fully asleep either, before he gradually woke up, usually by nine in the morning. And on the days before and after the full moon, he tended to be rather cranky before he woke up enough.

Leaving school gave him the luxury of lying in bed in a semi-sleepy daze before waking up enough to get about with his life. It was mainly for that reason that he normally either took a night job, or one that required him to be present later in the morning.

So Remus was understandably surprised when he woke up that morning instantly on alert. He only registered his shock when he found the time to be only eight. A good hour before he normally properly wakes up.

Confused, he idly looked at the room he was currently in. Tonks was nowhere to be found.

Nymphadora now Remus corrected himself mentally with a smile. He remembered the discussion they had last night. Remus had refused to call his girlfriend (that word still gave him a pleasurable thrill of excitement) by her last name. At first he had conceded to her wishes ("Auror Tonks" did sound rather nice when he was being a naughty boy or playing the part of the big bad wolf in their games ... especially when she had that riding crop). But after a while, he wanted to be given the pleasure of having a name which only he was allowed to call her in non amorous situations. After some negotiations, involving many ridiculous nicknames, she had finally decided to allow Remus the privilege of calling her by her first name. Then again, she really had no choice. She had turned her nose up (rather cutely, in Remus' opinion), at the usual endearments like "luv" or "sweetheart" saying they sounded rather sappy and had positively baulked at "Nymphy" and "Nym", finding them stupider than her original name. Eventually, having no other choice, she had very reluctantly and quite grudgingly given him the permission to use her first name.

Snorting in amusement at that and revelling in his minor victory, Remus got out of bed and, still naked, padded out of the bedroom of Nymphadora's flat and into the hallway, heading towards the kitchen with last night's clothes in his arms that he had absently picked up. Putting the clothes in the washer with the other dirty clothes, he tapped the magical device that was installed in place of the normal Muggle one with his wand, starting the process of getting the clothes washed. When he had moved in with Nymphadora, a week back, after finishing the assignment Dumbledore had given, the flat was a mess. However thanks to his penchant for cleanliness, that problem had been more than taken care of. Nymphadora certainly appreciated the benefits of coming home to a clean house, not to mention being able to wear clean clothes.

She had also readily agreed with Remus that he was not a "neat freak".

His job done, Remus put on a kettle to boil for tea and headed towards the bathroom to find out how Nymphadora liked her eggs, figuring he would surprise her with a home cooked breakfast for once.

He felt the first signs of foreboding when his beloved did not answer when he knocked on the door. His worry only grew when he found the door unlocked. Usually Nymphadora was the type to lock the door whenever she went into the bathroom. While she was usually relaxed about other things (both of them walking around the house starkers proved that), she was a stickler for this.

'Luv?' Remus asked tentatively as he stuck his head into the bathroom. He saw her sitting on the toilet seat, naked as the day she was born, her thick black hair flowing down, covering her breasts and hiding her stormy grey eyes which were looking at something in her hands blankly.

'Is everything all right?' he inquired with an increased sense of concern when she did not respond immediately. Normally she would growl at him when he called her "luv". It was enough to get her attention no matter the situation. Thus growing concerned when she still did not respond, he crouched down in front of her. While the sight of his lover in any state was enough to get him excited, he came to the conclusion that the situation demanded he control those urges.

After an indeterminate amount of time spent in silence which Remus spent silently and patiently looking at her, Nymphadora Tonks finally spoke. 'I'm pregnant,' she said in a daze.

It took a bit of time for Remus' brain to catch up with her words. 'Sorry, what?' he finally said dully when his brain had the opportunity to partly process the meaning of the words that had come out from her lips.

Nymphadora finally looked at him and said slowly, 'I. Am. Pregnant.' She really did not sound happy. Nor did she sound sad. In fact, Remus really had no idea what she thought of the whole situation.

'Oh,' he finally settled on saying. 'Are you sure?' he asked her, figuring that it was a safe enough question to ask.

'Yeah,' his girlfriend of less than a year said succinctly. 'I checked five times each using both Muggle and Magical methods.' She held up her wand which she was staring at all this while. The tip was glowing a bright cheerful blue. 'I did the charm to test for pregnancy. If it hadn't lit up, it would have been negative. A blue colour means that it probably is going to be a boy while yellow means that it might just be a girl. Of course, the book says that the colour at this stage isn't much of an indicator and that it is a good idea to check again much later to ensure the sex of the baby. The book also says that the charm is a hundred percent accurate.' She rambled on pointing in the general direction of a book that Remus saw on the countertop titled Pregnancy and You.

'Not only that, but I have been finding it hard to change forms lately.' She continued speaking mechanically, 'Especially in the mornings. It is a sure sign that I am pregnant.'

'But ... but we took precautions!'

'I know,'

'I've taken regular doses of the potion,' He said as he got up to pace.

'I know,' she said as she looked at him moving up and down the bathroom floor, she felt rather detached.

'And I have even used those Muggle contraptions as an added precaution.'

'Again, I know. After all, I was there, giggling away and telling you that you were being silly and paranoid when you first put that condominium thing on.'

'Then how...?'

'That,' she said without rancour, 'is what I don't know.'

'Well bugger me,' he said, finally sitting down propped against the wall beside her. She snorted at the irony of the statement.

'I need a drink,' she said after a few moments of silence.

Still in shock, Remus said automatically, 'you can't ... you are pregnant, remember?' he did not notice the toxic look sent his way for his rather obvious statement.

'Say something,' she said after a few more moments of silence.

Now Remus had a decent amount of experience with relationships in his time as, despite his condition, he had managed to get into quite a few relationships. Added to that were the stories he had heard from James about Lily and from Sirius about the many flings he had. All those sources agreed that those two words plus the way her voice was shaking were not good signs. He would have to tread very, very, very carefully if he wanted to come out of this alive.

'I think,' he said carefully. 'That we need to calm down ... take time to breathe ... come to terms with what we have learned. And then talk about it at the end of the day. Those tests only come positive so consistently when you are definitely pregnant. That means that you have been pregnant for quite awhile now. Go to the Ministry, finish your work, and then, when we both have had time to come to grips with it, we'll talk.' The delivery of his speech was calm; however, he was panicking inside. He hoped to Merlin, Morgana and all the four founders that he had chosen the right words to say.

Thankfully it seemed he had said the right thing as Nymphadora did not get visibly angry (or invisibly as far as Remus could tell). She nodded after a while and agreed with him.

The day passed in a haze. Thankfully Auror Tonks did not have any field work to do that day. Remus had more than enough time to think as he was currently in that zone where he had recently said goodbye to his past employer and had yet to say hello to his future employer, meaning that he did not have what was called a "job". Not that he could afford to get another job, seeing as he was "at standby mode" according to Dumbledore.

So by the time his girlfriend came in, she was presented with a hot, appetizing dinner made of her favourite foods, a clean house and a plan. A plan that she found to be so sound and romantic, she had all but ripped his clothes off as she snogged him senseless. After all, that is generally what one does to one's new fiancé.

As they lay in bed together, Nymphadora fixed her large grey eyes on him and asked, 'So, any idea if the baby's going to be a werewolf?'

'No, not really,' Remus replied as he traced a line on her shoulder. 'I think that this is the first time in history that a werewolf and a witch will be having a baby. Generally it is hard for both individuals to pursue a relationship, seeing as one is normally running away from the other.' His comment earned him a snort from his beloved.

They spent the rest of the night debating as to what Remus' condition would mean for the child. Both of them, (Remus more than Nymphadora) were apprehensive about this. Would the child become a werewolf? Would he stay normal? Or would he become some weird half werewolf? Also would this make Nymphadora a werewolf herself?

Out of these, the last question was the most easily answerable. She hadn't transformed in the full moon after they had started their relationship. Thus, lycanthropy was not a sexually transmitted disease, but just vector-borne.

At least they had some information to give to the boffins at the Centre for the Research of Magical Diseases. Though, that did carry a lot of risk and unnecessary attention to their relationship. Currently, Remus was rather unknown despite information about his condition having been leaked out by certain a greasy-haired person he really hoped he would never meet in a dark and empty alley, lest he end up killing them.

At first, Remus did not want to burden Nymphadora with his problems anymore. He initially wanted to break things off with her, saying that it was too dangerous to be with him. After all, the normal contraceptive potions wouldn't work on him. Who knew what else could happen.

Then he began to reconsider. Nymphadora would then be left alone, a young Auror, with a baby to take care of and a job to manage. It wasn't a healthy way to raise a child. Sure she could use help from her mother. Andromeda would have been more than happy to raise the child. But it would not be the same as having a proper mother.

There was also the small fact that he was madly in love with her and did not want to leave her or the child alone. Not when it was he who was responsible for her becoming pregnant.

James, Lily and Sirius would never forgive him, nor would Nymphadora's parents. And he shuddered to think of what Harry would think of that situation. He also knew that he would be dishonouring his own father's memory. If his father could raise him despite him being bitten by a werewolf, then the least Remus could do in his dad's memory is not abandon his own child.

Of course all that paled in comparison to what Nymphadora herself would do to him if he thought of leaving her. He still vividly remembered the way she had burst in on him and told him off for being a prat and to snog her already ... or else. The dangerous and determined look in her eyes had done it for him then. He did not want to think what she would do to him if he left her.

So, he decided that the most honourable thing to do was to ask her to marry him. That way, his child would grow up with a normal life.

The proposal hadn't been romantic (at least to him, though she seemed to think it was). He had just honestly spoken of his love to her and how he wanted to be in the baby's life. He had even added something that had just occurred to him as he was proposing to her: That he was actually, in the deepest corners of his mind, considering asking her the question sometime in the near future. Before he had found out that she was pregnant.

Nymphadora Tonks was a unique person because she had befriended him and loved him despite knowing what he was from the beginning, and that made her special in his eyes. The last people who had done that were his parents. James, Lily and Sirius (he did not even think of Peter) were not the same as her. While he appreciated that they had still stuck by him, and not shunned him when they had found out about his condition, they had the opportunity to know Remus-the-person before knowing Remus-the-werewolf. It was only because of their years of friendship that the two pureblood boys were still friends with him. Nymphadora, on the other hand, had known of Remus' condition from the minute she had laid eyes on him. She knew Remus-the-werewolf from the beginning ... and loved him regardless.

He would have been a fool to let that go. Many people would have shunned him, and Remus understood that sentiment. He knew that he was the exception and not the rule when it came to how werewolves behaved with humans. The scent of human flesh called to werewolves daily, even in their human form, just as human blood made the non-functioning hearts of vampires sing. He was one of the few who could resist the temptation and stay sane, at least when he wasn't transformed. He was a freak of nature, so to speak; the werewolf equivalent of a vampire capable of walking in daylight. Unlike Dumbledore, who felt that it was the choices a werewolf made that made him different, Remus knew better. He knew that werewolves were dangerous. While some preferred to stay away from civilisation, content on feeding on animal flesh, they were the minority. Most had embraced their true nature and would frequently attack villages on full moon nights, preying on the unaware humans inhabiting the area, only turning the few they felt would be useful to their cause.

It was this sentiment that Remus truly loved her for, and he appreciated her for looking beyond the beast and into the man that had convinced Nymphadora to say yes.

The thought of abortion never did enter their heads. That was mainly because in the wizarding world, contraceptive potions had been in use and in production for a very long time now. And they had only improved in effectiveness since they had been first invented back in the seventeen hundreds. So much so that now it was only possible to have a child only if both the parents wished it. Thanks to the potions, extremely stringent abortion laws had been passed and accepted by the public. The last recorded legal abortion was done in 1781, a year before the first contraceptive potion had been put into production and the last anti-abortion law had been passed in the nineteenth century. So enough time had passed that abortion was no longer a part of the vocabulary of the average witch or wizard. There were exceptions of course where medical issues made it necessary, but those were also rare to the point of being nonexistent. Just like the potion failing here in Remus' case.

The next day, the happy couple had gone over to Andromeda Tonks' house to break the news. They hadn't mentioned that Nymphadora was pregnant, however, when announcing their engagement. Though, Remus knew that Andromeda would not be fooled for long. The woman was a Black. The whole family was known for three things; their keen mind, their penchant for finding out the deepest darkest secrets of people and their insanity. Almost every single one of them were insane in some way, Remus idly reflected as he saw mother and daughter gossip together as he sat with Ted Tonks, Nymphadora's father, as the man tried to play the father-of-the-girlfriend routine with Remus.

First there was his dear mate, Sirius Black. As a boy, Sirius thought that it would be funny to send another boy into the path of a fully transformed werewolf. Then as a man, he was crazy enough to be the first person in recorded history to escape from Azkaban, only to go to the next heavily fortified place that was Hogwarts despite it being surrounded by the same Dementors from Azkaban. And that was only the beginning of the crazy and borderline insane things Sirius had done in the course of his life. Remus still vividly remembered the run in Sirius and James had with the Muggle police on Sirius's flying motorcycle.

Then there was his dear Nymphy-Poo (something he called her in the deepest darkest corners of his mind ... if he ever said that out loud ... well, she would make Greyback look like a cute little puppy), she was insane enough to marry him despite knowing what he was from the beginning.

Then there was Andromeda, her mother. She was insane enough to marry a Muggleborn against her family's wishes. Despite the fact that said family was reputed to be one of the darkest and most powerful houses of British magical society. Oh, and not to forget, the woman thought that "Nymphadora" was a cute name for a girl

Then there were the other two members of the family; Bellatrix and Narcissa. One really did not need to list the things the former had done to be deemed insane. Narcissa, on the other hand, seemed to be an exception. Or perhaps her insanity was just hidden. Remus did not have the pleasure of meeting the Black. She always held herself in a certain way, as if she was above the rest of the world. She was also the only blonde Black. Maybe that had something to do with it.

As they sat down for dinner, Andromeda "suggested" that they break the news to Harry next. While he wasn't directly responsible for Nymphadora, he was still the head of the Black family, the family Andromeda was born into. Andromeda had a high regard for the boy since he was the one who had gone ahead and put her name back into the tapestry, along with her husband's name, forever removing the stain of being called a blood-traitor from her and her family. While Andromeda loved her husband, she was still crushed over her family's rejection. After all, her parents had shown affection towards her before she had gone and married him. She was also close to her cousins, and even had a cordial relationship with Bellatrix (before, when she wasn't that much of a loon) and her banishment from the family meant that she could never talk to them.

Adding Ted's name was just icing on the cake. This meant that her husband was considered a part of the Black Family. Once the war was over, Andromeda and Ted were fully intending on capitalising on this fact to further their business and their reputation.

So it was only fair that she be accommodating to the boy. And this included sharing family news like the fact that her daughter was getting engaged.

Remus wondered why Andromeda was being so insistent on it. After all, as far as the werewolf was concerned, Andromeda had never met the boy. So why ask him to tell a relative stranger? Not that he was planning on holding this information from Harry. In the end, he did not ask that question. He would find out from Harry directly.

'She's pregnant,' Ted Tonks stated flatly to his lovely wife after their daughter and her fiancé had left.

Andromeda, seated in her armchair next to him snorted, 'She is. I don't know who she thinks she is fooling with that charade of hers. We're her parents for Merlin's sake! She might be able to hide it from those dim-witted morons she calls her colleagues, but it won't work on us!'

'I think that we wouldn't have known either if we hadn't overheard them talking about it before dinner, dear,' Ted said dryly. 'The question is; do they know that we know?'

'I don't think that they know that we know,' said Andromeda absently as she flipped a page of the book she was reading. 'Though even if they know that we knew, then that would automatically mean that we know that they know that we know, something I doubt they would be expecting to know.' Andromeda was silent for a minute before speaking up again, not looking up from her book. 'I wonder if we should let it be known that we know. That way we would know if they knew that we know about it. Or,' she looked up at her husband questioningly, 'Should we just pretend that we don't really know even though we knew from the beginning until they tell us?'

'That is worth thinking about,' said Ted as he took a sip of his single malt.

A few days later, when Hogwarts had a Hogsmeade weekend, an engaged couple met up with a teenager in the Shrieking Shack to break the news of their recent engagement.

'So let me get this straight, you two are getting married shortly?' said Harry as he rubbed his face as he reclined on the armchair he had conjured. He had initially wondered why the two had sent him a letter a few days back. At first he had been worried that his escapades in the Muggle world had been discovered by one or both of them. After all, when somebody sends a note with only the words "we need to talk" followed by a date, location and time, it generally isn't good news. He was relieved with the news to be honest.

Seeing Tonks nod, he exhaled. Looking at them shrewdly, he asked the black haired Auror, 'You're pregnant, aren't you?'

Immediately Remus sat straighter on the conjured sofa, his eyes narrowing, as Tonks just sighed and nodded again.

'How did you know that?' Remus asked reflexively at the same time. Seeing Tonks nod silently from the corner of his eye, he concluded that she hadn't told Harry. Which meant that someone else had told him ... the question was, who?

'It's the ring,' Tonks said resignedly.

'What ring?' Remus asked. Suddenly the Knut seemed to have dropped in his mind as he looked back at Harry and said, 'So Sirius managed to give you everything, huh?' he tried to hide his bitterness at this. Harry was innocent in the bad blood between the two old marauders. He did not know that while Sirius had forgiven Remus for thinking that he could have been capable of betraying James, and Remus had in turn forgiven Sirius for thinking him capable of being the spy, the whole incident which had ultimately resulted in Sirius being thrown into Azkaban had changed things between them. While they still were friends, they hadn't been able to regain the rapport that they initially had in their school days. Sirius definitely hadn't fully forgiven Remus, if the fact that he had left nothing to him was any indication. And Harry could be forgiven for not wondering why Sirius hadn't left anything for his best friend or thinking of Remus at first. After all, he hadn't done much to foster a relationship with the boy before this summer.

'Pretty much' said Harry as he flashed the ring.

'But, how?' Remus asked. He was sure that the headship would only go to a blood relative. This curiosity was helpful in squashing the bitterness.

Harry briefly explained the blood-adoption ritual that Sirius had arranged for him, embellishing on a few details and avoiding the mention of a few others.

'So now because of an anomaly, I am a full Black. The goblins have no idea how that happened either,' he finally concluded.

Remus sat back to think on that. He had no idea that the Ancient and Noble houses kept tabs on the offspring of the daughters of married female family members. Being a pureblood from a minor house, Remus' family did not move around in those circles. Thus, he, like the rest of the Wizarding World, was not privy to the goings on of the Ancient and Noble houses. It looked like he now knew of one of the secrets of the Ancient and Noble houses. It would make for a large family tree though. 'So why keep it a secret?' he asked Harry after a few seconds. Now that he looked at his best friend's son closely he could see some of Sirius's features standing out.

'No reason, really,' said Harry lifting a shoulder nonchalantly as he flung a leg over the arm of his chair reminding Remus further of his late friend. 'I just don't plan on mentioning this till ... later. It will keep some things private. For example; the fact that I have disowned a family member won't be made public.' Seeing Remus' inquisitive look, Harry smiled and said, 'Bellatrix, her husband and any future offspring will now be considered blood-traitors.'

Remus whistled, 'Good one, cub,' he said approvingly.

'What?'

'What, what?' Remus replied with a straight face.

Harry just gave him a sour look as he repeated the question, 'What did you call me?'

'Cub,' said Remus. 'It was something I used to call you when you were a baby. For some reason, Lily wasn't a big fan of that nickname,' He trailed off nostalgically.

'I can see why,' said Harry dryly. 'Of all the nicknames you could come up with that was pretty lame. Truth be told, I was expecting Sirius to have come up with something stupid like "pup" or something. Not,' he gestured towards Remus, 'you!'

Remus' smile just got larger at Harry's declaration. Seeing this, Harry said in growing horror, 'He called me pup, didn't he?'

'Oh yeah,' said Remus, a wicked smile on his face, and a gleam in his eye as the opportunity to prank his best friend's son came up. 'I think the names Sirius and I came up with were better than the name James had initially thought of. He started calling you "Bambi" the minute he first held you.' He paused for a minute, pretending to look far off into the distance while reminiscing that it was quite a long time since he had last pulled a joke like this. 'He reckoned that those big huge green eyes of yours reminded him of this character in this Muggle show Lily had made us watch once. You know ... that one with the deer and all? It looks like a moving portrait ...'

Seeing Harry nod dumbly, Remus continued, enjoying the shock on the young man's face, 'In fact, James actually thought of officially giving you that name.' he said that innocently enough. However, the mischievous look in his eyes betrayed his true intentions, looking almost demonic as he dropped that last bombshell.

'Bambi,' Harry said indignantly, 'Bambi? No really, Bambi? Bambi Potter? My father was actually going to name me Bambi? What on earth was wrong with him?'

Tonks, who by this time was practically sprawled on the floor breathless from laughter spoke up, '"Bambi James Potter" ... B.J. Potter ... I can only imagine what you would have gone through in your life being called B.J., Harry ... oh this is hilarious!' she said breathlessly, amidst fits of laughter.

'Actually it was supposed to be "Bambi Prongslet Potter". James' reasoning was that since his nickname was Prongs, his Animagus form was a stag, and that you were his son, it was only fitting to name you that.'

'WHAT?' said Harry horrified as Tonks started to practically cry with laughter.

'Oh yes, He even had half the letters of your first name written down before Lily found out about it and put her foot down.' Remus invented wildly, now that he knew that Harry had fallen for the story, 'She hexed him so badly, that the poor bloke was still twitching a week later. And then as she filled in your current name in a fresh certificate after making him actually eat the first one, she had banned him from naming any other living thing.'

'Well ... it's a good thing that ... that it wasn't B.J. Potter ...' Tonks managed to gasp out. 'At any rate I don't think I'll be able to be with Remus without thinking of you!' she burst out into fresh gales of laughter at that.

It took a minute for Harry to get what Tonks was talking about. Scowling he said, 'Oh shut it! It's not like you can say anything ... Nymphadora Monoceros Tonks. Your name is actually, officially and legally that, mine is Harry James Potter-Black. So there!' he stuck his tongue out.

Tonks immediately stopped laughing, 'How did you know about my full name?' she asked aghast as Remus asked, 'That's your full name?' in a voice barely hiding his glee.

Tonks gave Remus a baleful look as Harry said, 'Oh you didn't know, Remus? Well, look on the bright side Tonks, he would've found out on the wedding day at the least.' He smiled winningly a glowering Tonks who was making slashing gestures at her throat as she gave Harry a nasty look. 'Besides, "Monoceros" isn't that bad a middle name ... it's quite fitting actually ... I heard that your mother was quite attached to her great-aunt Monoceros, so it's a good way to honour her by giving you her name, and I think unicorns are very ... fetching on girls!' He grinned winningly at the murderous look Tonks was giving him for his last statement.

'If any one of you says anything, I will end you!' Tonks growled threateningly.

Harry just raised his hands, 'I'll keep my silence if you and Remus here don't mention what my name would have been.'

'Deal,' said Tonks immediately.

'Hey, don't I get a say in this?' Remus asked Tonks. 'You can't just promise my silence for me!'

'Of course I can.' Tonks said primly, acting as if Remus had just said something particularly dim. 'It's your fault anyway that this has happened.'

'How is it my fault?' Remus spluttered.

'If you hadn't gone ahead and opened that big fat mouth of yours, he wouldn't have blackmailed me! But you just had to blab.'

'Well, I must be off,' said Harry, interrupting the retort Remus looked like he was going to make. He waved his wand as he stood up making his armchair vanish. 'Tell me when the wedding is going to be. I would love to be present for it at the very least.'

Quickly saying his goodbyes, he walked towards the door of the room. However, just as he was outside the door, Remus spoke up.

'Harry, I didn't know that the Family Rings could tell when a member of the family was pregnant.' He stated mildly, his tone went up a notch in pitch at the end signalling the clear question he wanted to ask. The curiosity was very apparent in that sentence.

'Well, I'll tell you that if you tell me how you ended up pregnant, Tonks. Weren't the two of you taking your potions?' Harry asked after considering Remus.

'We were,' said Remus resignedly. 'At least I was. I even used a condom. We think that the potion wasn't as potent because I am a werewolf. Perhaps it was my accelerated metabolism, if only we had taken that into account ... at any rate; I still love her and was planning on asking her to marry me before I got the news. This only speeds up my plans.' He looked at his fiancé lovingly as she gazed back at him with lust in her eyes.

'Huh,' said Harry, 'Interesting ...' He turned around to exit the room.

'Hey, you didn't answer my question,' said Remus stopping Harry in his tracks. 'Can the Rings tell if a family member is pregnant or not?'

'Hm? Oh yeah it can. It does have a limitation though. Only the children of a female member of the family are tied into the ring. Their grandchildren won't register. If it did, then the heads would have gone insane with the information overload! And that is if the ring does not explode.'

'But you just said that the Ring had made you aware of the pregnancy!' Tonks exclaimed.

'Oh, no I didn't.'

'Then-then how did you know?' Remus stuttered out.

With the door closed halfway, Harry looked at the couple with a beatific smile on his face, 'You told me! I just guessed that you were pregnant. You all but confirmed it for me! What with the way the two of you acted ... thanks for telling me!' with that Harry grinned and slammed the door shut.

The couple sat there in stunned silence as they heard the teen's footsteps fade away as he ran away laughing.

'Why that little-'

'Oh, forget it,' Tonks laughed, interrupting Remus. 'The little bugger has additional blackmail material on us, for now at least. I bet he's guessed that we haven't mentioned me being pregnant to mum yet. At least you now have additional reason to shut up, Remus.'

Nymphadora snuggled in Remus' arms as they sat in companionable silence for a minute.

'Remus?'

'Yeah?'

'James wasn't actually going to name Harry "Bambi", was he?'

After a moment of silence, just as she was going to repeat her question, Remus spoke up.

'No, not really ...' shocked, she looked up into Remus' eyes, only to find them filled with mirth.

'You made that up?' she said incredulously.

'I am neither denying nor confirming what James was originally going to name Harry,' said Remus diplomatically in response with a straight face although his eyes gave him away. At any rate, it did help alleviate the small amount of ill feeling he felt toward the teen for his thoughtlessness.

The wedding was a week later. Since Nymphadora did not want her full name to be made public nor did she want Remus' status as a werewolf remarked upon or acknowledged, they used an old contact of the Order's to conduct the ceremony which was really just signing of the marriage certificate as they exchanged vows and rings, with Harry as the witness, while the happy Andromeda and the misty-eyed Ted Tonks watched. So far, no law had been passed prohibiting a werewolf from marrying, as the general consensus was that nobody would be fool enough to go around marrying one nor would two werewolves actually approach another human being and bear being around that person long enough to get officially married without infecting said human. However, Remus and the Nymphadora did not want to rock the boat. The fact that Nymphadora planned on keeping her original name despite her reluctance was proof of that.

A few weeks later, they felt it safe enough to announce Nymphadora's pregnancy to her parents. Andromeda and Ted Tonks were genuinely happy about the news, but they did not let their daughter and son-in-law know that they knew that their dear daughter had been pregnant before the marriage even though she hadn't told them then. Eventually, the older couple felt that it would be better that the young couple did not know that they knew ... yet.

'I think that mum and dad knew about the baby,' said Nymphadora as she traced a finger over Remus' chest.

'What?' Remus squawked, 'But, how? Unless Harry told...'

'No, I don't think Harry said anything. I think mum and dad figured it out by themselves. I never could hide anything from mum.' She sighed as she snuggled against her husband. 'At least they don't know that we know that they knew.'

'Uh-huh ...' Remus took awhile to wrap his head around what his wife had just said. 'But what if they in fact knew that we know that they knew?' he continued gamely, hoping that he had the terms right.

'Well, then they won't be expecting us to know that we now know that they know that we know that they knew.' Tonks said absently, making Remus wish that he had just shut up in the first place instead of trying to play this game. He clearly was out of his depth.

Chuckling, Remus kissed her and said, 'I don't think I know who knows what anymore. But what I do know is that I am up for another round...' he looked at her suggestively.

Nymphadora just smiled at him as she kissed back, marking the end of their conversation for the night.

Harry put his book down and sighed. Life had become rather interesting in the past few days. Now that Christmas was near, he was confronted with quite a challenge in the hallways every time he had to go to the next class. Somehow, the rabid fan girls had managed to get information about his timetable and what classes he had on which day. They would use this as an opportunity to cluster around sprigs of mistletoe in order to ambush him while he was on his way to the next class. Initially he did not mind this as he used the opportunity presented to him to get a good snog from a few of the more attractive girls clustered there. He had even enjoyed using the techniques Victoria had taught him in addition to his agreed upon lessons while snogging them. The girls had certainly appreciated what he did.

However, in a few days it had become rather old. As stories of his kissing prowess had spread, more and more girls wanted to experience the "Potter magic" as they called it. This had led to a bigger cluster of girls under the mistletoe waiting to pounce and some increasingly hostile looks from their boyfriends.

Then there was the fact that the gaggle of girls had also become younger. While Harry was willing to snog the odd girl without giving a fig if she was in a relationship or not (after all, they approached him!) he drew the line on kissing anyone under the age of fourteen.

So in a bid to keep the peace, Harry had resorted to using his knowledge of the castle to take shortcuts to his classes. He also used his position as House Captain to tear down bunches of mistletoe at night when all the students were asleep. Not that it did him much good. They would just mysteriously appear back in a day or two.

He was thankful that there were some girls out there with their heads screwed on straight. Otherwise he was pretty sure that he would not have survived.

His new friends all took it in stride. Neville did not really mind, while Justin, Ernie and Blaise found Harry's situation downright hilarious. Susan, Hannah, and Astoria were actually rather smug about the whole thing. They had all, in their own unique ways, warned Harry that it would not end well for him if he continued to encourage things. Daphne also found the situation pretty hilarious. She did not mind that Harry was fooling around with different girls. After all, she had given him carte blanche to do so. And she wasn't really that worried; no matter what Harry did, he would end up with her thanks to that thrice damned contract.

However, she was planning on staking her claim on him soon. After their first date, they had gone out more, spending time with each other every odd weekend whenever they did not have any responsibilities to attend to. They had even studied together and recently Daphne had also joined him as he tutored the Gryffindor first-years in an empty classroom that McGonagall had graciously provided to promote a better atmosphere for studying. This had shortly inspired Daphne to bring over the Slytherin first-years she had "volunteered" to tutor. In that time, she had grown to admire the intelligence and kindness that Harry had shown. She also loved the way he would inspire the Gryffindor first-years to do their very best as he patiently explained concepts to them using words that they understood. She observed, as she taught the Slytherin first-years, that he would also crack small, sometimes lame, jokes related to the topic to help them remember things better. The muted laughter emanating from the group of Gryffindors had also attracted the attention of the Slytherin first-years.

So by the end of the second joint session, Harry ended up having the undivided attention of both the Gryffindor and the Slytherin first-years as they too found him easier to understand. Something he took in stride as he continued explaining things without missing a beat, seamlessly including the Slytherin first-years.

Harry still remembered the snog they had shared just after the last first-year had left. He had to admit that he was becoming rather attached to Daphne. He wondered if this was love. Like many teenagers, Harry really had no idea what it meant to be in love with another person.

What made things even more confusing was a certain redhead. Ever since he had seen Ginny Weasley and Dean Thomas together with their lips firmly attached to each other after Quidditch practise, he had not been able to get her out of his mind. She was the star of most of his dreams, second only to Daphne. And that was driving him crazy. What was he to do? If Ginny were just any other girl, he would not have any qualms in wooing her, getting into her knickers and after a while, when he had figured out just what he felt for her, moving on. However, she was the sister of his best friend, and more importantly, a Weasley. The family had done a lot for him in the short time he had known them, and he wasn't willing to risk their wrath should he break the heart of their youngest.

He also did not fancy going up against Bill, the Curse-Breaker. Not only did Harry respect and look up to him, but, the oldest Weasley sibling knew a tonne of curses that Harry was not in the mood to be on the other end of. After Bill, there was also Charlie. Even without the dragons at his disposal, the man was bulky enough to give Harry a good thrashing. However, both of them did not worry Harry as much as the thought of Fred and George being after him! The twins were very inventive. Not to mention quite malicious when they wanted to be. Ron's teddy-spider and subsequent arachnophobia was proof enough of that!

Ron and Percy did not even register as a threat. Harry was confident that he could dominate the former in any duel, Magical or Muggle. He knew more spells than Ron did, and thanks to dear Dudley and his friends, Harry had enough experience to know how to get out of a scrap. Percy was too much of a quill-pusher, a toady and a stickler for the rules to be a threat. He was like Hermione really; only more stuck up.

Even without Percy and Ron, there were still four siblings and two parents more than capable of making Harry's life hell should he break Ginny Weasley's heart. And that wasn't counting the girl in question. She was quite the spitfire.

In the end, Harry decided to stay the hell away from her. He knew that a relationship between them would not work. Not when he was going to marry Daphne anyway. It would be best if Ginny found someone to make her happy and settled down with that person. She did look happy enough with Dean. Also, he had slowly become attached to Daphne. She was pretty, intelligent, and a nice person overall. Harry could see himself growing old with her. Though she did not get his blood rushing the same way as Ginny did, what with that silky auburn hair, those big busty breasts...

Harry shook himself. Thinking along that line would not be wise. It certainly wasn't doing him any favours. Irritably he lifted his blanket, looked at the tenting in his pants and said, 'Down, boy, down!' When his body refused to obey, he sighed in frustration. He picked up the book again, hoping that Slytherin's life would be enough of a distraction.

Harry was now halfway through the fifth volume. After India, Salazar had gone further east towards China and Japan. The Chinese Muggles used to coexist with their magical counterparts. This coexistence was best seen in the Shaolin monastery. Salazar had stopped there and had made an important discovery.

These monks do not use wands for their magic like the rest of the world. Instead, through intensive training they have managed to harness their magic, boosting their reflexes, strength and speed. The amount of time it takes for the training depends on how much magical potential a person has. Their training is so effective that even those who have no magical talent to speak of are stronger, faster and more agile than their counterparts who haven't gone through the training. However, they have to undergo a lifetime of training to achieve what their magical counterparts can do in years.

After using my skills, I have managed to obtain entry into their hallowed halls. They may claim to be above such petty things as wealth, but even I know that to run such an estate, money is needed. With the right, and careful application of my amassed fortune, it was only a matter of time before I was let inside.

I managed to finish the training The Master set for me. It took me less than five years. That was mainly due to my own considerable amount of magical power coupled with the meditation techniques I have learnt in my travels.

Not only do I feel faster and stronger, but I also feel ... younger. My hair, turned grey due to my advancing years, has regained its original colour. The ravages of time on my skin that had left so many blemishes and scars have receded. The Master tells me that this is a by-product of letting my magic flow through my body more freely. He himself claims to be over two hundred years old, due to his high magical power. And I know he speaks truly, for I can feel the power coursing through him.

After that, Salazar travelled to Japan where he unearthed some of their secrets in stealth. Using them as inspiration, Salazar had developed a spell that would be the precursor to the modern day silencing charm.

Five minutes after he had opened the book, Harry had to set it back down again. He just had to come across the part where Salazar described a woman decades younger than him that he had met and had fallen in love with, and that woman just had to be a redhead. And if that wasn't bad enough, the pervert just had to write (in excruciating detail) what the two of them had done that night after the wedding. The imagery had Harry thinking of Ginny again. He was certainly grateful that Salazar had not described his exploits before in great detail, otherwise, Harry was sure he would have been scarred for life. This was bad enough; he doubted he could cope with more!

Harry eventually fell asleep. Although, his dreams were confused, resulting in a fitful slumber. He woke up the next day completely grumpy and thankful that it was a Sunday.

He went about his day in a less than cheerful fashion, making sure to avoid Ginny as much as possible. He had regained some of his good mood by the end of the day, as Neville noted when he joined the brown haired boy in the Gryffindor common room.

'You seem to be in a better mood,' Neville remarked casually.

'Yeah, I didn't sleep that well,' said Harry rubbing his nose.

Want to tell me about it? Maybe I can help,' said Neville hesitatingly. 'After all, you look like you have been keeping a lot to yourself. Talking about it could help.'

Harry regarded Neville for a moment. Then running his hand through his hair he spoke, 'I guess I could. You have been quite trustworthy ... but I-I need ...' he broke off, not knowing how to frame what he wanted to say. Hermione's betrayal really had made him wary of things.

'You want more proof of my trustworthiness,' said Neville shrewdly. When Harry just shrugged, Neville said, 'I understand, Harry. I don't really know why you are being so cagey, but I understand.' He was silent for a while before he brought out his wand, 'I could swear an oath of secrecy if you want.'

Harry regarded the offer given to him so readily. He was stunned that somebody would be so willing to do such a thing.

'Alright,' he said after a while. And so they spent a few minutes rehashing the oath that Neville would swear, getting the wording right. Soon enough, they had reached a compromise, and Neville swore his oath.

Harry looked around and cast a basic privacy ward around the two of them. He did not feel that it would be needed though. The common room was rather noisy at this time.

Taking a deep breath, Harry started talking. He told the other boy about his situation between Daphne and Ginny. He did not name Ginny though, but referred to her in the broadest terms.

'Wait, how do you know Daphne? And why do you have to be with her?'

Harry raised his eyebrows. He was not expecting that question.

'Well, it is because of this marriage contract between my family and her family that was made by our ancestors which we have to honour.'

Neville frowned for a moment, 'Wait a minute that cannot be right. The Black family's affairs don't really have any bearing on you.'

'What do you mean?' said Harry in surprise.

'Well, that contract became rather famous in high society,' said Neville, shrugging his shoulders. 'Mainly it was because the people who this contract affected were not even named, nor were they even born! Usually, a contract is set up after the families meet, and the couple that are to be married find each other agreeable. This was the first contract in modern history at the very least to have been made without the consent of the couple, and just naming the people to be married as "the heir of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" and "the girl-child of the Noble and Ancient House of Greengrass". It was widely believed that the contract was a result of Walburga and Orion Black's insanity and Jonathon Greengrass's, who was Daphne's paternal grandfather, desperation for money. Of course, that fact is not openly spoken about in public. But the ramifications of the contract were discussed a lot in the gossip circles.' Neville looked at Harry for a moment, 'So you see, I don't know what a contract between the Blacks and Greengrasses has to do with you ... unless you are trying to take the mickey-' he said with growing suspicion.

'Neville, I assure you that I am not trying to take the mickey,' Harry interrupted the other boy. He softly cursed under his breath, 'Great, I just had to end up with the most unusual contract in wizarding history.'

Looking back at an intrigued Neville, Harry sighed and said, 'you know that Sirius Black was innocent and my godfather right?' Seeing him nod, the raven haired teenager continued. 'Well you also probably know that he was the last male Black remaining. Now in his will he had left everything to me. And I mean everything. To ensure that there was no hiccup, he had left his blood with Gringotts so the goblins could carry out the blood adoption ritual, if I agreed to it. And for reasons heavily personal to me, I decided to go ahead with it. Thus Sirius became my adoptive father.'

'But that still does not explain why you are bound by the contract,' said Neville. 'As I understand it, an adoptive heir is not bound by that.'

'That would be true,' Harry sighed. 'However, something ... different happened, and because of that I have been considered a full Black in addition to being a Potter. And nobody knows why or has any idea about why this happened.'

Neville whistled softly, 'Wow, that's ... different.' He said after a pause.

Harry snorted, 'You're telling me.'

Neville looked at Harry for a moment, staring at his face long enough for Harry to ask, 'What?'

'Hm? Oh, it's nothing,' said Neville. 'It's just that I noticed some features on your face that resembles a Black's. Why did I not notice that before?' he asked more to himself.

Neville continued staring at Harry for a few moments longer before eventually asking, 'So why is it that you are going around with almost every girl in the castle that is unattached?'

'Well, Daphne basically told me to "get some experience" so that I could "make her scream in her first night"' said Harry, roughly paraphrasing Daphne's words.

'Wow, lucky you,' said Neville with a small amount of jealousy. 'So, why don't you just do the same with the girl you are talking about? You could just date her and after you are done with her, move on.'

Harry laughed mirthlessly at that 'If it were that simple. The reason I can't do that is because her name is Ginny Weasley.'

Neville started laughing at that. 'You poor sod!' he chuckled. 'I can see your dilemma now. If you did her, and she got pissed off with you dumping her, then you are going to end up with six of her brothers after you! And that is if they have anything of you left to take their vengeance on after she is done with you!'

'Who would've thought that Harry Potter would fall for his biggest fan girl?' He howled with laughter at that, making Harry look around nervously despite the ward he had set up.

'Wait, what do you mean, "Biggest fan girl"?' Harry said blankly.

'You don't know?' Neville said incredulously. 'That is the worst kept secret in the school! How could you not know it! Ginny Weasley was one of the founders of the Harry Potter fan club, for Merlin's sake!'

'"Harry Potter Fan Club"' Harry repeated a trifle hysterically. 'I have a fan club? Since when?'

Neville gave Harry a look of utmost pity. 'Mate, that club has been in operation for five years now, ever since our second year. In fact there are rumours that it was formed in first year, after you made the Quidditch team.'

'Bugger,' was Harry's succinct response. He ran a hand through his hair, 'So why don't I know of that? After all, I am the house captain. They would have to come to me to organise any events.'

'You assume that the president of the club is actually in our house. For all you know, the person could be in any one of the other two houses.' said Neville. 'Also, the club's been more or less underground. Nobody outside the club knows who the president is, and they keep it a secret from the teachers as well. Personally, I don't really care much about it. The only reason I even heard of this was because of Hannah, and her source happens to be Hogwarts' gossip grapevine.'

'So it could be just a load of bollocks?' said Harry hopefully.

Neville just shrugged, 'Maybe.'

Harry sat there for a while thinking about this new piece of information. In the end, he decided he really didn't care much about it. What was most important was the fact that he now knew that Ginny Weasley was nothing but a fan girl. Just another one of the swooning masses of the female kind. Suddenly the appeal of knowing her diminished. Sure she was a great person who had a bit of determination in her, and she could be sly and resourceful at times, but that meant nothing if she was just a fan girl.

'It was a good thing I spoke to you Neville. Things certainly have become clear thanks to you. So, thanks, I guess.' Harry said gratefully.

Neville just shrugged modestly, 'Glad to help.' He paused, hesitating for a moment, then drumming up courage he continued, 'I-I won't tell people anything about you, you know. I hope you can trust me as much as you trust Ron and Hermione. I may not be as confident or as brave as Ron, or as clever as Hermione, but I can listen.'

'Of course I trust you, Neville,' said Harry looking at the suddenly shy boy. 'And don't sell yourself short mate, you are pretty intelligent yourself. And you are becoming confident slowly. You certainly have come a long way from first year. And you are just as, if not more, courageous than any of us will ever be. I don't know if I would be able to stand up to three of my friends and try to take them on without a wand like you did then either.'

Neville blushed at the reminders of first year, 'I actually thought you lot were planning on breaking more rules then. I didn't know that you were planning on saving the Wizarding World!'

'I know, and I understand,' said Harry. 'It still doesn't change the fact that you were pretty brave then. So yeah, I do trust you to have my back.'

'You sure?' Neville said, unsure. 'Because, well, you do keep a lot of things to yourself ... I know that it's none of my business, and I am not going to ask you to share, but it is a bit frustrating at times. I just wanted to make sure that you can trust me.'

Harry could see the honesty shining in the other boy's eyes, and that gave him pause. Neville definitely was different than Ron and Hermione. Hermione especially would insist that Harry share everything with her, and that was ... irksome. Ron didn't even know if Harry had a secret to begin with until Hermione pointed it out. Normally that would not be a bad thing, but then the ginger would passive-aggressively try to browbeat Harry into talking, saying things like "you know she won't stop till you talk". It really was refreshing to know someone who knew that you had your secrets and respected you for keeping them.

All the same ... 'What makes you say that?' said Harry warily. He wanted to know what the other boy knew. Perhaps it would clue him on what the others knew.

Neville gave Harry an exasperated look. 'Well, there is that fact that you seem to disappear for indeterminate amounts of time. Especially at the weekends ... I don't really know where you go, and I'm not going to ask. But I know for a fact that you aren't with Ron or Hermione. Nor are you with any of the others.'

'Fair point,' replied Harry. 'Then again, it is rather hard to be around with Ron Weasley at this point.' He gestured towards the redhead in question who was currently snogging Lavender Brown who was seated on his lap on a couch a bit away from them.

'I know,' said Neville as he looked at the scene with equal parts fascination and disgust. 'What is that? Is he trying to suck the life out of her?'

'You should see Hermione's face whenever Ron is mentioned to her nowadays. And you should see her face when the two of them are mentioned together. Though that is nothing compared to her expression whenever she is thinking of them herself, or when she actually sees them together.'

'Yeah, I heard that she had attacked Ron with some conjured canaries?'

'Oh yeah, I saw that myself. Speaking of which, is there anything going on between you and Susan? I couldn't help but notice that the two of you seem rather close.' Harry looked at Neville teasingly, finally tearing his eyes away from the fascinating yet horrifying scene of Ron and Lavender going at it.

Neville blushed, 'Yeah, we might be going together to Slughorn's party.' He said absently, his eyes still fixed on the scene in front of him. His face suddenly went even redder. Wondering what was the matter, Harry turned to look back at the scene.

He was confronted by the sight of Lavender's rather round bum encased in a skimpy black pair of knickers that practically disappeared into the cleft between her cheeks. Not that he could tell much since Ron's rather large hands were covering most of it as he started groping her as he enthusiastically kissed the blonde. Not that Lavender was complaining. She was busy running one of her hands across the ginger's chest through his unbuttoned shirt, while one was heading downwards...

Harry looked around the common room. They really had to be stopped. Harry noticed a bunch of first- and second-years who were looking at Lavender's arse in fascination as they stared at the amorous couple, following each movement and gesture closely with their eyes. Harry did not think that it was something that they needed to see. In his opinion they were too young. Besides, if this went on any further, he shuddered to think what else would end up being shown. He was also shocked by the indecency and lack of decorum at display here. Not to mention the lack of common sense. There were hundreds of more private places where the two of them could have had their little ... session (Harry personally knew of quite a few such areas, having used most of them). If McGonagall caught wind of this ... well, losing his prefect position would be the least of the red-head's worries. The ginger would be lucky if he only got away with detention for the rest of the year.

He growled softly in frustration when he did not find a prefect nearby that could put a stop to this. Suddenly it hit him; he was the House Captain, he had the authority to stop this.

With this epiphany, Harry swiftly brought down the privacy ward he had put up and got up to put a stop to this before anybody lost their innocence ... or their dinner.

20. Christmas Tidings

Wow, the number of suggestions I have been given regarding what Harry should do to Ron and Lavender ... you guys are worrying me! :D I hope this is satisfactory...

'By then Harry, who I saw talking to Neville all this time when, notices what is going on. And that is where the fun begins!' said an animated Ginny to her two elder twin brothers who were listening with rapt attention. It was Ginny's second day back home for the winter holidays and the twins had cornered her as soon as they had found time to stop by at the Burrow. They heard about the incident that had occurred between their youngest brother and his girlfriend. Ginny was more than willing to tell the two about what had happened.

'Go on,' said Fred eagerly.

'Well, this is really hilarious, but Harry and Neville are looking at the scene Ron and his girlfriend are creating with this dumbfounded expression for practically a whole minute, something like this,' She paused to grossly imitate the expression on their faces. 'Then, finally, Harry snaps out of it. He gets up, takes his wand out, bellows out "Ron" pretty loudly, only, the dolt didn't hear a word Harry was saying. So Harry sends out a jet of really cold water towards those two!' Ginny cracked up at the bit followed by the twins roaring with laughter.

'It was a real blast of water alright! It sent both of them sprawling onto the floor. And, and the best bit was that by then Lavender had her hand in Ron's pants. So when that jet hit them, it caused her to pull on his willy rather painfully before they were separated!' The three of them were breathless with laughter by then.

'Thankfully I was too far away to see everything, but from what I could hear, apparently all the first- and second-years got to see his willy sticking out of his trousers as he scrambled to get up.' Ginny said after calming down.

'So, Harry is standing there trying not to look too amused as lover-boy and his girlfriend are trying get back up on their feet. Then, as soon as he got their attention he gives them a real talking-to.'

'What did he say?' George asked in anticipation.

'I have no idea,' said Ginny. 'He put up a privacy ward before reaming them out. But from the wild gestures he was making, and the way those two were flushing as he was shouting at them, I could tell that it was the mother of all lectures. I can't explain it, but it was like he had managed to combine McGonagall and mum together at the same time!'

'Whoa,' said an awed Fred.

'Oh the best bit is that while Harry is busy with those two, McGonagall had entered the common room by then. Oh, she was not well pleased when she found out, let me tell you! Only, instead of intervening she just stood to the side. She actually said that Harry was doing a good enough job for her!'

'And then, as Harry was winding down, he drops the ward. So everybody and McGonagall heard his next few words.'

'What'd he say, what'd he say?' George was practically bouncing in his seat.

'Oh calm down, I'm going to tell you!' said Ginny. Taking a moment, she mustered up the sternest expression she could, looking rather comical as she said, '"Right, so that's going to be ten points each for dereliction of duty, inappropriate behaviour, general slovenliness in attire, and lack of proper decorum from Gryffindor, Weasley. And ten points each for inappropriate behaviour, slovenliness and lack of decorum, Brown. Oh, and detention with Filch for two days for indecent exposure of private body parts, not listening to the captain of your house when he called out the first time, and groping for the both of you. Now get your arses to bed this instant. If I find even one of you not yet in pyjamas and in bed by the time I come up in five minutes, trust me I will deduct more points from Gryffindor and make it a week's worth of detention with Filch."'

Ginny continued in the same deep stern tone as she imitated Harry's stance, much to the amusement of her audience. '"Unfortunately, while I would love for this to be between the three of us, your actions have made it a public matter. Added to that is the fact that the amount of points I have taken means that McGonagall is going to have to hear about it. And I think you know what that means, Ron."'

Switching to her normal voice, she said, 'Then McGonagall decides to make her presence known. She simply says something to the effect of "I doubt I would need to add anything more to the two of you without having to repeat what Potter has just said. However, Potter's prescribed punishment is not fully appropriate. Therefore I will be taking a further thirty points from you, Weasley for behaviour unbecoming of a prefect, irresponsibility as well as another ten points from each of you for indecent public displays of affection. Furthermore, you will have detention every weekend night with Mr Filch." Then McGonagall gives them a filthy look and without a word, turns around and walks out of the portrait.'

'And then as Ron is turning around, Harry gives his last parting shot which had almost everybody in stitches.' Switching back to her imitation of Harry's voice she reiterated what he had said, '"Oh, and Ron, when I told you to keep it in your pants, I actually did mean that literally as well." and he gives this meaningful look downwards causing everybody to laugh as Ron blushed a deep red. I heard that his willy was still sticking out!'

At this Fred and George both burst out laughing. 'It's a good thing that Harry never made prefect last year George, otherwise the two of you clowns would have been shut down quite quickly!' said Bill who entered the living room with Fleur as Ginny was in the middle of her story.

'Nah,' said Fred, not unfazed by Bill's sudden intrusion. 'Harry's too nice to us. He'd never do such a thing! And it's not as if we would practically shag our girlfriends in the middle of the common room in public! Nor would we go around displaying our bits around.'

'So how long is Won-Won's detention?' asked George.

'Oh you heard about that stupid nickname, huh? Well, Ron asked McGonagall that question the next day, and after giving him a nice chewing out she basically said "until I feel that the two of you have learnt the lesson, Weasley!" So far she hasn't let up yet. I dunno if she is going to let up even after the holidays are over!'

'Whoa, that's two weeks so far!' Bill whistled. 'McGonagall really must have been angry! Even the two of you monkeys didn't get that many detentions!'

'And those detentions aren't a picnic either,' snickered Ginny. 'I heard Lavender tell Parvati that Filch had her clean the toilets and do other such things ... far, far away from her Won-Won!'

'What are you lot talking about?' said Harry curiously as he walked in. His cheeks were still flushed from the time he had spent outside while his hair was even messier from being buffeted by the wind.

'You,' said Ginny and the twins in unison.

'Ginny shared her story about the kissing show Ron had set up with that Brown girl,' Bill explained further.

'Ah,' said Harry absently running a hand through his hair to remove the tangles and make it more presentable.

'I never thought you would be the type, Harry,' said George in a faux serious voice as he affixed a look of mourning on his face.

'Indeed,' continued Fred in the same tone and with an identical expression. 'While we fully agree that Ron deserved what he got, did you have to imitate McGonagall and mum?'

'What? I did not do that!' said Harry, aghast.

'Of course you did! The way you sent Ron upstairs was so mum, and the way you were shouting at the two of them, even though we did not hear what you said, was definitely what I would imagine McGonagall would have done in the same situation.' Ginny said in response as the twins nodded vigorously in agreement.

'Exactly,' said Fred.

'I concur,' said George. 'The two of us have been on the receiving end of too many a berating, scolding and reprehension from each of those illustrious witches not to know a McGonagall or a Molly Weasley castigation when described to us from a reliable enough source.'

'Though this is the first time I have heard of the two being combined,' mused Fred.

'Indeed Fred, I agree,' said George. 'It's a good thing that we left school before ickle Harry here became the big bad captain. I bet we would have been in really hot water then! I cannot believe that he actually made old Minnie proud!'

'Of course, he'd have to catch us first,' said Fred with a wide grin.

'Well in my defence, I had no idea that she was behind me. I still have no clue why she was there in the first place! And Fred, don't forget that I happen to have a certain tool that would make sure that I caught the two of you reprobates any time I wanted to.' Harry added the last part leadingly as he waggled his eyebrows.

'You wouldn't!' said the twins simultaneously in horror while everybody else looked confused.

'Maybe ... maybe not ... but I guess that we will never know for sure!' said Harry shrugging. He still had a malicious grin on his face.

'Erm, care to share what you three are talking about with the rest of us?' said Bill.

'Nothing,' Harry and the twins said together.

'The look on your face when you found out she was right behind you was classic!' chortled Ginny. She put on an exaggerated look of disbelief and shock to show what she was talking about.

'And just where were you, Harry?' asked Bill mildly curious.

'Out,' replied Harry easily while adding mentally to give Ollivander my wand. He had woken up really early and had apparated to the wandmaker's shop as soon as he finished with his morning exercise. Admittedly, he hadn't been able to do much since the weather really was not conducive to running around outside.

'Exercising? In this weather?' Ginny said incredulously gesturing to the window where it was furiously snowing, hampering visibility.

'Yeah,' Harry said succinctly. 'Well, not really. Nobody could possibly run outside in that!' he said upon seeing the look of incredulity on everybody's face. 'I just went out for a walk. You know, a bit of fresh air, some sunlight? It was rather nice outside actually. I sort of liked the cold wind and the snow falling.'

'Right,' Bill drawled while Fred and George asked the room in general, 'Since when does Harry exercise?'

Further conversation was stopped as Ron made his presence known. The twins' eyes lit up at seeing their younger brother.

'Well, well, well, look who it is Fred! Casanova himself has graced us with his presence!'

'I see that he has managed to keep it in his pants this time,' said Fred jeeringly as he looked down at Ron's pyjamas.

Ron took a moment to process the comments the twins had made. Eventually he understood what they were insinuating as he shortly turned to Harry's direction and said, 'you told them?' with accusation in his eyes.

'No I did,' said Ginny as Harry silently raised his hands and pointed towards her.

'What? How could you embarrass me like that?' Ron said angrily.

'Embarrass you?' Ginny laughed derisively making Ron even angrier. 'You were doing a fine job embarrassing yourself! I didn't even need to say anything more! And let's not forget how much you embarrassed me what with the number of questions I was getting from all the curious first- and second-year girls about what they saw.' She looked at him with disgust, 'And from what I heard, I guess I was spot on when I named your owl.'

Before Ron could open his mouth, no doubt to give a scathing reply, he was interrupted by Molly Weasley who chose that moment to scream out, 'Ronald Weasley!'

Those two words served to remind everybody but the twins (who had just arrived) about just how displeased Mrs Weasley was with her youngest son. The next five minutes that ensued involved a nice lengthy and loud lecture which told the twins just how much of hot water their younger brother had landed himself in. Apparently not only was Ron grounded for the rest of the holidays, but he also had to do all the chores in the house.

'Ron's rather lucky actually,' Ginny whispered to Fred as Ron was getting chewed out for lazing around and being ordered up the stairs to go change so he could get to work. 'Mum had initially tried to involve dad, but dad did not feel that the situation was serious enough for him to be involved.'

As mother and son went their separate ways Ginny and the twins looked at Harry with a smile on their faces that said, you did the same thing to Ron, earning a dirty look from their raven haired friend as he gave them the two fingered salute.

Just remembering something, Harry hurried towards the kitchen where Mrs Weasley had bustled off to.

'Mrs Weasley?' he called out hesitantly, not sure of her mood.

'Yes, Harry dear?' Apparently the woman had managed to regain her good humour, in record time, no less.

'Er, I just got a letter from Neville. Well, from Mrs Longbottom actually. They invited me to a party they will be holding on the twenty-sixth at their house. They also invited me to stay over at the manor for the remainder of the holidays ...' he trailed off here, remembering the imperious letter sent by the dowager all but demanding that he attend the party, if not stay over. The letter may have been signed by Neville, but Harry knew that the words were written by the boy's grandmother. Neville was simply capable of writing such a letter.

Mrs Weasley had the pleasure of meeting the older woman before and knew that Augusta Longbottom was not someone you say 'no' to, without seriously risking your life. The woman did not look like much nowadays, but back in the day, Augusta Longbottom was very well known for her love of hunting. Not many people knew these days that the stuffed vulture the old battle axe wore was actually a trophy and the last of its kind. It was rumoured that Augusta had actually killed the very last member. Mrs Weasley had heard a lot about the plethora of trophies, both from Muggle and Magical animals that adorned the walls of the woman's study. There was even a rumour that the Longbottom matriarch had killed a Nundu of all things, and had used its hide as a rug.

Suffice to say, Mrs Weasley was very wary of Augusta Longbottom and she understood that Harry really had little choice but to go to that party.

'I did not know that Neville and you were friends dear,' she commented lightly. 'Of course you can go, but I don't know if it is safe. Perhaps we should talk to Dumbledore about this first?' she said the last bit to herself uncertainly. She was so caught up in her musing that she did not notice the look of irritation that crossed Harry's face at the mention of the headmaster.

'Well,' he said removing a letter out from his pocket. 'It says here that the letter will act as a portkey should I accept by putting a drop of blood on the parchment.'

Mrs Weasley took the letter. Her initial glance at the faint markings of hair on the stiff, thick, high quality vellum took her back a few decades when such things were common in her life. Reading the letter she saw and recognised the Longbottom coat of arms on the wax seal below. As far as she knew, there was no way anyone not in the family could duplicate that. The seal along with the quality of the stationery also indicated that Harry was a highly valued individual as far as the Longbottoms were concerned. It meant that his attendance was more of a necessity. It was this seal and the quality of the stationery that convinced that her that this letter was the real deal and not some underhanded method of trying to get Harry out from the protection of the Order and into You-Know-Who's clutches. She was rather fond of the boy, and had been so ever since she had first laid eyes on his tiny, scrawny, thin frame five years ago.

'Well, Harry dear, I think you should go. The Longbottoms are a good family and I know that Neville is in your year and house.' Mrs Weasley said.

'Thanks Mrs Weasley,' Harry said in response, glad that he had encountered no resistance from the overbearing mother of seven. He did not want Dumbledore to get involved and nor did he want to play the I-am-emancipated-and-you-are-not-my-mother card. Deciding to push the envelope a bit further as it were, he hesitatingly spoke up. 'Erm, I was wondering if I could stay over too.' Getting a sudden burst of inspiration he added, injecting the right amount of hesitance and awkwardness in his tone, 'I hope that it is OK, and I don't want you to feel that I am leaving you behind or anything. I mean, I think of the Weasleys as my family and this place as my home, so going over to the Longbottoms is more like a-a sleepover, and I never had a sleepover before ... so I was hoping if it would be alright...?' he trailed off. What he said did have a grain of truth to it, so he did not think of it as lying or him trying to manipulate Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley beamed at Harry as she replied, 'You are such a dear boy! Sure, I don't mind if you stay over at Neville's! We all will meet you at the platform after the holidays then.' Harry thought he saw her eyes misting slightly as the older woman turned away. Score! He yelled mentally in jubilation. Mrs Weasley was a mother of seven and thus not fooled easily, but that was when it came to her own children. Harry knew that she had had a soft spot for him ever since he had first properly met her in his second year. He had no idea why, but it served his interests rather well here. He supposed that it was because he was technically the youngest boy in the household. That made sense, seeing how she also had a similar soft spot for Ginny.

The acknowledgement of the fact that Mrs Weasley had a soft spot for him gave Harry a funny feeling in his chest that he could not recognise or identify. After some consideration, he decided to ignore it, which he managed with some difficulty. He was rather unnerved by it, having never experienced it before. Had he explored that feeling in more depth, he would have realised that it was the same feeling that he had when thinking of Sirius.

The news that Harry was going over to Neville's for the last bit of the holidays after Christmas was met with a general acceptance from the other Weasleys. The elder siblings and Ginny really did not care much, since they understood that Harry could have other friends as well. Besides, they would have him for Christmas, which was the most important part of the holiday. It was Ron who had the biggest problem with Harry's plans.

'Why can't I go?' he whined to his mother.

'You were not invited, Ron. And even if you were, you still would not be allowed to go because of the stunt you pulled at school. I think your father and I made it more than clear that you were grounded for the holidays!' Mrs Weasley snapped at her youngest son as she gave the scowling boy a venomous look.

Things just went downhill for Ron the very next day. He had been caught throwing a knife at Fred by Mrs Weasley who had then proceeded to make the youngest Weasley boy peel all the sprouts without Harry's help, which he had offered in an attempt to keep the peace.

The twins used the free time Harry now found himself with to suggest that he sneak off with them to the village. Fred and George thought it was a shame that Harry was stuck in the house and never had the opportunity to visit Ottery St Catchpole properly now that he was, in their words, much cooler to hang out with now that he wasn't a snotty little twelve year old. As an added precaution they had offered to put a glamour charm on the younger boy so that he would not be recognised by anyone unsavoury.

'Right,' drawled Harry as he looked at them speculatively. 'So let me get this straight, you expect me to let you clowns cast a spell on me and actually trust the two of you not to pull some prank?'

'Aw, Harry, you wound us!' said George dramatically. 'You're our little brother, our, as our resident veela would say, our petit frère, our fratellino ...'

'Not to mention our investor, and the person who made our dreams come true,' added Fred.

'Exactly, so why would we prank you?' asked George.

'You do have a good point,' Harry said after thinking about it, although he still sounded wary. 'By the way, speaking of which, do you have any expansion plans?' He decided to ask.

'Yeah, we plan on opening a place in Hogsmeade soon. As soon as the bank approves our loan, we will be able to buy the property ... all we need to do is move the products and put up the shelves. I reckon we'll be up and running in a few months,' said George as he absently toyed with his wand.

'Oh, well, how about I give you the money instead? That way, you won't owe the bank a loan...'

'Is this your way of making sure we don't prank you or something?' asked Fred as he raised his wand. 'Because we already told you we wouldn't prank you!'

'Of course it's not that!' Harry replied even though it was partly for that reason. 'I thought I was your petit frère ... your fratellino ... the least I can do is help you nitwits along! Besides, I have seen the returns your business has given me, and I am pretty impressed with it. I think it would be viable to invest further in your business. Also, don't forget, you made me a partner, albeit a silent one, using the capital I have to buy the property outright is the least I can do to pull my weight around. The property can even be in my name, you guys will just be using it. We'll work out the finer details'

'Fair enough,' said George. 'Now hold still...'

A few flicks of the wand now had Harry sporting blonde hair and deep blue eyes.

'I look like a Malfoy,' said Harry in a deadpan as he looked at his reflection in the mirror that Fred had conjured.

'Erg, you do,' said Fred suddenly noticing. 'If you just slick your hair back a bit, you could almost pass off as Draco. Though with that hair of yours, you actually look like the son of James Potter and Narcissa Malfoy.' Harry gave him a filthy look.

'Blonde does not suit you,' observed George. 'Oh well, at least it is a sufficient disguise, not to mention the only glamour charm that we know ... Let's head out lads!'

A few hours later, as they were headed back to the Burrow, Fred commented, 'Not bad, mate! You really have the skills in picking up girls. I'm surprised that you don't have a girlfriend by now.'

'Who said I don't? I will have you know, gentlemen, that I, the Boy-Who-Lived, and the heir of Slytherin, can keep a secret ... unlike some other people whose name shall not be mentioned.' Harry shot back pompously.

'Of course, how could we have doubted the heir of Slytherin and the Chosen One!' said George dramatically as Fred chuckled and removed the glamour charm as they passed through the wards.

'By the way, we could not help but notice that Gin-Gin seems rather angry at dear Won-Won'

'Oh, that, well it's a fight that has been going on for a while now ... something Won – I mean – Ron said that had her pissed off with him. I wouldn't get into it if I were you.' replied Harry.

Fred whistled, 'Wow, you would be right there, mate. Gin-Gin really can be quite vicious when someone pisses her off. Trust me, I know! Though, I think that Won-Won there didn't get that reference to his owl's name.'

'Oh, that was cruel!' agreed Harry. 'I get the feeling that she had been pissed off with him too when she first named that owl. Did she look through the dictionary specifically for that name?'

'Nah,' said Fred gleefully. 'We supplied it! We got a good deal on it too. She agreed to hide most of our inventions from mum in return.'

Harry privately decided, then and there, not to let Ginny know that he was the one who had directed all those curious first- and second-years with their questions to her ... Ever.

Harry was woken up suddenly on Christmas morning by Ron's exclamation of despair. Turning around on his camp bed, he found the redhead holding a gift which was no doubt from his girlfriend. After all, no one sane would send a thick chain with the words "My Sweetheart" dangling from it.

'Real classy, that,' said Harry with a straight face. 'You should definitely wear it today, Fred and George would really appreciate it!'

Ron became bright red as he stuffed the chain underneath his pillow. 'If you tell Fred and George, I-I'll-'

'Stutter at me? Come on, would I really tell? I haven't told anyone anything about you,' Harry laughed as he put on the snitch patterned jumper Mrs Weasley had made for him.

'Good morning Harry, thanks for the book by the way,' said Arthur as he clutched a book Harry had bought from a Muggle bookshop some time back, titled How Stuff Works.

'It was no problem, Mr Weasley. The book even has a part describing how planes stay up.'

'Really?' said Mr Weasley excitedly. Unable to contain his enthusiasm he immediately opened the book, reading and eating at the same time as he searched for the correct section.

Mrs Weasley just huffed. 'Eat first and then read your book Arthur!' she admonished.

'I love you too dear,' her husband said distracted as he shovelled a forkful of eggs into his mouth and turned the page.

'Why do I even bother,' Mrs Weasley muttered throwing up her hands.

She immediately stopped cursing suddenly the minute she looked out of the window.

'Arthur,' she said suddenly, her hand on her heart. 'Arthur – Percy's here!'

'What?' Mr Weasley looked around. Quickly everybody set their sights out of the window. Sure enough, Percy could be seen making his way into the house through the window. What was more, he was not alone.

'He is with the Minister!' Mrs Weasley cried out in shock.

And sure enough, Harry could see Amelia Bones walking beside Percy. And walking behind her almost as if he was hiding was...

'Fudge,' Harry growled upon seeing the former Minister. That one statement brought the attention of the other members of the house to the portly man who looked rather haggard.

'Merry Christmas, mother,' said Percy rather stiffly as he stood on the threshold of the back door, causing Mrs Weasley to fall into his arms with a cry of 'Oh, Percy!'

'Please, forgive this intrusion,' Madam Bones said to Mrs Weasley, who beamed as she turned her eyes towards the Minister. 'But I do have a few matters to discuss with the young man sitting in front of me.' She gestured to Harry as she said this.

At once the situation around the room became tense as all the members stiffened as they looked between Harry and the Minister and Fudge, who squirmed uncomfortably at the hostile looks sent his way.

Harry however remained composed. Slowly getting up, he asked calmly, 'What may I help you with, Minister?'

'Perhaps we could step outside? Let Percival here get reacquainted with his family in peace.' Amelia Bones replied. She either missed the gleam on the twins' face or ignored it altogether.

'Sure,' Harry said after a pause. 'It's fine,' he muttered to Bill who looked like he wanted to object. 'Fine,' he assured Mr Weasley who was nearly out of his seat.

Harry led the way out. Taking long, slow strides, he led the other two to the fence between the backyard and the paddock. As the Minister approached followed by Fudge, who was huffing slightly at the mild exertion, Harry noticed a shimmer for a brief second.

Harry murmured a spell he had learnt about from Salazar's journals. It was the precursor to the Homenum Revelio spell, and in Japanese. However, Salazar had been kind enough to put the phonetic translation of the spell in Parseltongue. Then again, from the two paragraph rant on what the Founder thought of the written form of the language and the difficulty he had learning it, Harry had a feeling that the spell was written down in the way it was because of the man's inability to write in Japanese.

Either way, it suited Harry as he felt the effects of the spell settle on his eyes. The spell was simple enough to do wandlessly and made the caster aware of any human presence in their vicinity. There were limitations, however. While it did show Harry that there were four other people besides the two approaching him in the form of bright blue blurs, the spell made him blind to his surroundings and also messed up his depth perception. All Harry saw was four colourful blurs surrounding them in a black field.

Letting go of the spell, Harry looked at the Minister in silence as the older woman settled against the fence and observed a gnome struggling with a worm.

'So ... what did you want to speak to me about, Minister?'

Before Madam Bones could open her mouth, Fudge butted in. 'Ah, Harry,' he began jovially.

'The last time I checked, the Minister of Magic currently is Amelia Bones.' Harry spoke over the man while still looking at Minister Bones, cutting the former Minister off before he could finish his sentence. 'Not you, Mister Fudge.' Harry finally deigned to look at the portly man with a sneer on his face. 'Or are you so stupid that you did not realise that fact? After all, it has been quite a few months now.' He sniffed slightly as he turned back to the Minister while muttering 'Moron' loud enough for both of them to hear.

'Mr Potter is right, Cornelius. Please do keep your counsel to yourself unless specifically addressed,' she said dismissively. Then looking at Harry she continued, 'Then again, it is "Lord Potter", is it not?'

'You've heard then,' Harry said without changing his now pleasant expression.

'Oh I have heard a lot of things, my Lord. The fact that you have been all but given emancipation by the Ministry is just one of those things, though a fact recently learnt.'

'Took you long enough,' said Harry lightly.

'Well, it wasn't much of a priority. After all, I do have better things to be doing than agonising over whether or not a sixteen year old has managed to get adult status roughly a year or so before his majority. Like running a country for example, or taking care of this – ah, conflict that has seen to my rise in power,' Madame Bones replied with equal levity.

'I must admit,' continued the Minister after a few short seconds of silence. 'That I have wanted to meet you ever since I have been elected. Of course as you undoubtedly know, it has been much earlier.' She looked at Harry meaningfully to which Harry nodded understanding what she was talking about, while Fudge looked on, completely clueless.

'You are not an easy person to meet, you know. In fact, I daresay that it is easier to get an appointment with me than it is to meet you.' The woman chuckled.

'But it normally shouldn't be,' said Harry confused. 'After all, I am just a sixteen years old schoolboy. You are the Minister of Magic. All you would need to do is write me a letter.'

'True,' the Minister replied. 'Under normal circumstances, we may have met much earlier. However, I had to contend with your headmaster in this matter. Dumbledore has been rather ... averse to letting the two of us meet.'

Harry kept his expression blank as he processed this new information. After all, what business was it of Dumbledore's to prevent people from meeting him without asking Harry's permission in the first place?

'Initially, I let it be, as I assumed that you were a minor with Dumbledore responsible for you. However, some recent developments along with the information that you are now emancipated have made this meeting possible.'

Harry met her appraising gaze calmly, not breaking eye contact.

'There are rumours that you are the "Chosen One", the one who is destined to end the threat posed by the current Dark Lord.'

'Yes, I have read of those rumours,' said Harry mildly. 'The Prophet seems quite eager to praise me nowadays. Though, I have yet to see an apology from them about the slander and ridicule they have subjected me to throughout last year.' He sniffed disapprovingly, 'Arrogant twa – twits.'

'Quite,' the Minister coughed, giving the boy a disapproving look at his use of language. Suddenly she said, 'Secure the perimeter, Cornelius. Potter and I have important matters to talk about.'

'But there is nobody around for miles,' said Fudge. 'Even if somebody came along, the guards will be able to intercept them.'

As Minister Bones closed her eyes and took a deep steadying breath, pinching her nose, Harry covered his mouth with his hand while shaking his head. What an idiot he thought. He had to wonder if Fudge was being clueless on purpose or if he actually was a slack-jawed halfwit. Thinking that it was none of his business, Harry took to staring out at a distance as he watched the Minister deal with her predecessor while imagining a speech in his head that involved a lot of inventive and rude names to call the man.

Eventually overcoming her incredulousness at the man's stupidity, and suppressing the urge to kill the man in the spot, the Minister opened her eyes and said icily. 'Do not forget Cornelius that you are only retained by the Ministry in an advisory capacity. You were also supposed to be liaising with the Muggle authorities. And need I remind you how much success you have reported there?' she gave him a stern look causing the man to flinch. 'What I am going to discuss with Lord Potter is my business, and not yours. So please make yourself scarce.'

'Fudge is advising you?' Harry said incredulously. 'Fudge?' he laughed. Sobering quickly he said, 'I do not have any experience with dealing with politics, but why would you want Fudge as your advisor? I never got the feeling that he was any good as Minister ...'

The portly former Minister scowled at the insult. However, he really could not afford to say anything in reply as his current boss was giving him a steely and unsympathetic look. Scowling, he jammed his hat onto his head and stomped off.

'Well, my Lord, now that there are no – distractions,' said Minister Bones as she erected a ward around the two of them. 'How about we stop playing games with each other?'

Harry gave her a long look. 'I know that you are a fair and honest woman, Minister. After all, Susan has nothing but good things to say about you. However, thanks to morons like him,' he jerked his head towards Fudge who was standing a bit away and trying his level best to overhear the conversation. 'I have lost much faith in the integrity of the Ministry.'

The Minister looked at him appraisingly. 'You do not have to worry about anything like that from me, My Lord. Even if I did not owe you a life debt, I, unlike my predecessor do have good common sense. Now I know for a fact that you were involved in an incident with the Death Eaters and that the incident in question took place in the Department of Mysteries. Normally the Unspeakables are tight lipped over the details, and they may have modified the memories of the captured Death Eaters. But fortunately, I had the opportunity to interrogate one of the Death Eaters before the fact. From what the man told me, it isn't difficult to come to the conclusion that there was a prophecy that involves you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. That fact is anyway more or less an open secret seeing as the Prophet has heard of it. Now ever since I became elected, you will have noticed that there have been no articles about you. That has been mainly because I have taken steps to debunk those rumours.'

Harry was silent for a moment. 'You are right in your theory. However, I would keep that knowledge to myself if I were you, Minister. You don't want Voldemort to figure out that there may be the possibility that somebody knows the wording of the prophecy that he has been after. You already have enough of his attention.'

'I will keep that in mind, Potter,' said the Minister. 'So do you know the wording of the prophecy?' she asked curiously.

'The prophecy broke in the ensuing battle. Surely the Death Eater you interrogated told you that!' Harry said in response. 'I certainly could not hear the words that were being said by the recording when it broke among the ruckus around.'

The Minister's mouth gave a minuscule twitch, 'Indeed. It can be rather hard to hear what a recording is saying when there is a lot of noise.' Her expression became serious once again, 'However, that is not the reason I came to speak to you my Lord.'

'Uh-huh,' said Harry warily. 'So why have you come?'

'Well, let me tell you what exactly happened first,' the Minister began. 'After the ... events, at the Department of Mysteries, it did not take long for Fudge to figure out that you and Albus Dumbledore were right all along. Fudge also heard the rumours about the prophecy concerning you and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Add in the fact that there have been widely circulated rumours that have been recently unearthed about previous confrontations between the two of you, and your current upswing in popularity (which was high even before you started Hogwarts), Cornelius thought it would help him stay in power if he were to gain your support.' She smiled as Harry snorted at the idea. 'Anyway, that idea does have merit; Rufus certainly finds merit in it. I, however, feel that I should let my actions do the talking for me, not a sixteen year old.'

Minister Bones took a deep breath, 'Now things would have continued as normal with the idea dying out. I would have met with you today just to give you my thanks for saving my life, recommended you for the Order of Merlin, Third Class and left you to enjoy your holidays. But unfortunately Fudge had to open his big mouth and blab to the Muggle Prime Minister. Again, that would not have been of any concern since the Prime Minister did not comprehend what was said. Unfortunately, Fudge also was idiotic enough to say something similar to the Queen. Unlike the Prime Minister, Her Majesty is a very sharp quill. She immediately started asking questions about you, asking what Fudge was talking about and why did a former Minister feel it necessary to use a sixteen year old as political clout when he was in office. Cornelius, in his infinite wisdom, decided that he would sit on it and did not inform me about the situation. He also decided to evade questions Her Majesty was asking, thinking that she would give up. However, he underestimated her as she finally got fed up with the evasions and sent me a direct summons.'

The Minister paused, taking off her monocle and polishing it. 'That was in September,' she said tiredly. 'I met her afterward in October. And it was not pretty. She definitely wasn't smiling then. The minute I met her, it was clear who was in charge.' Harry could hear admiration in her voice.

'In the end, certain details have come out into the light, and now we have a very unhappy monarch who has expressed a desire to see you in order to be appeased.'

Harry looked at her in disbelief for a few seconds. 'You aren't serious,' he finally managed to get out. Seeing the Minister's sombre expression, he let out a gusty sigh. 'What would The Queen want from a sixteen-year old schoolboy?' he nearly whined.

'I have no idea, Mr Potter,' said Amelia Bones. 'I suggest you ask her when you meet her. She is very interested in meeting you. She even has gone through the trouble of inviting you directly to her residence in Sandringham. In case you are interested, that invitation was issued yesterday when I tried to dissuade her from meeting you citing your being unavailable due to school.' Saying this, Minister Bones extracted an envelope from her robes and handed it over to Harry.

Harry broke the seal at the back and extracted the thick bond sheet within. With an almost detached air, he read the words written below the recognisable Royal Coat of Arms.

To,

The Rt. Hon. Harry James Potter-Black, the forty fifth Earl Potter.

Dear Lord Potter,

Her Majesty, the Queen requests your presence in Sandringham House at 10 A.M. on the 28th of December 2003.

From the office of Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith,

Elizabeth II R

'That's in three days!' Harry said finally, clearing his throat as he stared at the scrawled signature at the bottom.

'Indeed,' said Minister Bones. 'You can imagine now why we carried out this ambush of sorts. While sending you an owl with the letter would have been easy, I thought it prudent to inform you of this in person. It was very lucky that Percival there had overheard the conversation. I do not know what Her Majesty would have done if we had failed to produce you before her. She was not most pleased when we met yesterday.' She paused for a moment with that look of admiration in her voice.

'I shall have a portkey prepared for you to reach the private chamber within the house that normally serves as an apparation point for the Minister of Magic. Since I too will be attending the meeting, I expect that one of us will be greeting the other there.'

'Sure,' said Harry. Remembering something at the last moment, he spoke up, 'By the way, I will be at the Longbottoms' place then. I am leaving tomorrow actually.'

'Excellent,' said the Minister in reply. 'Then we shall be meeting each other much earlier then. I too have been invited to Lady Longbottom's ball.'

As the Minister of Magic turned away, Harry noticed Fudge standing there looking very disgruntled. Just as the Minister was about to lower the wards, he spoke up.

'May I ask why you would want a tyrant as your advisor, Minister?' he said with genuine curiosity as he indicated Fudge.

'A tyrant, My Lord?' said the Minister, her eyes growing wide in surprise, nearly causing the monocle to slip out. 'I do realise that he has misused his power the past year, but surely, you exaggerate?' the fact that the boy called the former Minister a tyrant was enough of a shock to her that she decided to ignore the rudeness and forwardness of the question asked of her. After all, what business was it of his if she appointed Fudge or not? Eventually she decided to let it go. The boy was young, and he looked like he wanted to make a point but had no idea how to go about doing it.

'Yes, a tyrant,' said Harry succinctly. 'Not only did he abuse his powers to try and expel me without so much as granting me a hearing but he also brought me before a full court last summer for a case of underage magic. But that is nothing compared to what his undersecretary has done in his name.' He gave Fudge a disgusted look as he said the last bit.

'What?' The Minister looked at the man in question dangerously as her left eye painfully constricted around her monocle. Harry was sure he heard a creak coming from the eyepiece. He guessed that the news that the former Minister had tried to destroy Harry's wand without a trial was new to her.

'Oh yes,' Harry said with badly disguised glee. 'I even have the letter to prove the fact that he had summarily expelled me and was sending someone to destroy my wand. Also I have five other witnesses, two of which are inside that house which we just left by the way, who will attest to the fact that one Madame Umbridge had fully confessed to ordering two Dementors to my house in Surrey to have me kissed in order to "silence me" as she put it, for the "good of the Ministry". This, just before she enunciated the first syllable of the Cruciatus Curse with her wand pointed right at me.'

'Is that so?' said the Minister as she fixed Fudge with an eagle glare that had the former Minister squirming, wondering what they were talking about.

'Oh yes,' said Harry. 'Isn't it convenient that Fudge's Undersecretary became insane once everything came to light?' he said in a burst of inspiration. 'After all, no one can question what she had done ... I wonder what he would have tried with my friends and me if he had stayed in office any longer ... after all, he had authorised use of an Unforgivable on another human being ... and a minor to boot!'

The Minister had a predatory look on her face as she processed this information. 'You have tremendously helped with the investigation, My Lord. We might be able to hold a trial faster than what was projected...' she trailed off in thought. She did not mention that with the current state of affairs, an investigation into the previous Minister and his actions was not exactly a priority. After all, it wasn't any of his business.

Eventually, the Minister took down the wards and with a contemplative smile on her face made her way to the very nervous Cornelius Fudge.

'One other thing, Minister,' said Harry walking next to her. 'What was that about an Order of Merlin you had mentioned?'

'Oh yes, well there will be an official ceremony soon. We have no idea when though, what with the state of affairs,' replied Minister Bones absently as she headed towards the house. 'The committee has to first review and approve the honour first.'

'Understandable,' said Harry.

'I am sure you will get that Order, Harry!' Cornelius chose to speak up at that moment as he started to ramble on about the virtues he had noticed in Harry's character before, acting as if they were old friends.

'Minister,' said Harry with a tight smile, finally at the end of his tether. 'I would like to apologise.'

Minister Bones looked at him in confusion, 'For what?'

'For what I am about to do,' and with that Harry whirled around and punched Fudge right in the face sending the portly man on his arse, breaking his nose.

'That was for the name calling and slander last year, arsehole,' Harry snarled. 'And this,' he aimed a vicious kick to the man's side, 'is for having the gall to act as if we were old friends as well as for thinking of using me for your own ends.'

'I very much disapprove of such disorderly conduct and would in normal situations have you pulled up for such loutish behaviour. However, I will let this one go, Potter, just this once. Assaulting an employee of the Ministry can lead to a fine at best and imprisonment at worst. You are no longer a child, but an adult. It is time you start acting like one, young man.' The woman paused for a moment, looking at the now sheepish boy sternly. 'If a gentleman has a disagreement with another person, he does not physically lash out.' She further reprimanded. 'Just because I did not say anything about the impudent question you asked me a few minutes back about matters not concerning you, does not give you carte blanche to do whatever you wish.'

'Sorry,' mumbled Harry, looking at the ground as he hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck, sufficiently cowed.

'Apology accepted,' said the Minister primly. 'Ensure it does not happen again. Or I might find it necessary to revoke the emancipation and convince the Wizengamot that you are not fit to be considered an adult till you are twenty.' Watching the boy flinch at the last statement, she finally relaxed her features. Looking at Fudge on the ground, she said, 'And we will touch upon your incessant brown-nosing when we return to the Ministry, Cornelius, so wipe that smirk off your face.'

Just then an owl flew towards Harry carrying a Howler in its talons.

'Oh bugger,' said Harry as the owl dropped the Howler and sped away. Opening the smoking red envelope Harry covered his ears as soon as he could.

'POTTER!' Tonks' voice screeched from the envelope shaking snow from the trees, 'WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!'

'At least she was short and to the point' Harry said.

'Why was Auror Tonks issuing death threats to you?' the Minister asked, mildly curious.

'Oh, cousin Nymphie was just conveying her appreciation for the gift I sent her for Christmas!' Harry said lightly after his hearing cleared sufficiently.

'Well, if you actually wrote "Nymphie" down in the parcel, I would understand the reason for that threat already,' said the Minister wryly.

'Yes, but then I had sent her a pink stuffed unicorn.'

Minister Bones looked at the boy for a moment before bursting into laughter, 'And that explains the Howler! I must say, you have stones kid! We are living dangerously here, aren't we?'

Harry just shrugged. Suddenly a bang was heard coming from the house in front of them.

'Well it looks like you needn't come in to collect your employee,' said Harry as yelling could be heard accompanied by a lot of sniggering and outright laughing.

'Yes, I hope that nothing too permanent happened to Weasley there. He is pretty excellent at taking down notes. You don't find that many young men capable of writing fast and neatly,' Said the Minister worriedly.

'Uh-huh ... Percy is a secretary eh?' Harry remarked as the former head boy stormed out of the house, his green hair clashing with the large purple pimples erupting on his face.

'Yes, a pretty good one too,' said the Minister, finally regaining her good mood. 'Anyway, until the ball Lord Potter,' she inclined her head and turned around, following a limping former Minister and a glowering secretary out of the property. Harry soon heard three soft 'pops' followed by two loud 'cracks' and after a minute, two other 'pops' signalling the exeunt of the last of the Minister's security detail. He briefly wondered what had possessed him to act like that (and in front of the Minister of Magic) no less as he walked back to the house.

Harry came in to find that Mrs Weasley giving her unrepentant twin sons a dressing down. Once she had calmed down, Mr Weasley just said 'Boys, you are becoming too old for this,' in a monotone causing the twins to grin even more as they knew that their father's heart really wasn't in it. Harry just gave them a discrete thumbs-up as they winked back at him once Mrs Weasley's back was turned.

Remus and his wife stopped by on Christmas night with news of a happier nature.

'It's going to be a boy,' said the proud father-to-be as he threw an arm around his glowing wife.

'So soon?' asked Mrs Weasley after congratulations were passed around. 'But you've only been pregnant for a month! How can you tell?'

'Oh it's just a feeling I have,' Tonks said as she rubbed the bulge in her stomach lovingly.

'Harry, I was wondering if you could be the godfather,' said Remus tentatively causing Mrs Weasley and Ginny to gasp.

'I-um, OK,' said Harry slowly. He had no idea why the two wanted him to be godfather. After all, he barely knew Remus and Tonks. Remus was only a friend of his fathers' and Nymphadora was just a cousin, and somebody whose existence he had no clue of till a year back. Harry couldn't help but feel that he had been put on the spot here. It would be rather churlish of him to decline in front of so many people. He really wished that Remus had thought to ask him in private instead of out in the open in front of so many people.

Harry eventually relaxed after thinking about it for a bit. After all, he doubted that he would need to take care of the thing. After all, the baby would have its parents to take care of it, and failing that, its grandparents. All he would have to do is drop by occasionally and spoil the child silly. A slow smile spread across Harry's face as he thought of the things he would tell the sprog and the ways he would corrupt it.

'By the way, I did not get the chance to thank you properly for the book you gifted me,' said Bill in the lull in conversation that followed. 'This should make my job easier. Where did you get the book by the way? Those wards and how to put them up and take them down is rather rare! Almost nonexistent in fact!' the elder Weasley son all but gushed.

'Ah, now that is a secret,' said Harry mysteriously while smiling at the man.

'Speaking of gifts...' Tonks began suddenly becoming rather menacing ... for a pregnant lady, thought Harry. 'I have a bone to pick with you on the one you sent.'

'Aw come on Tonks,' said Harry innocently. 'Surely a godfather can buy his future godchild a gift!'

'A pink unicorn for a boy?' said the clearly unimpressed Tonks.

'Hey, it could be a girl,' Harry shot back. 'Besides, if it is a boy, then you can just change the colour of the toy to blue, or give him the wolf and save the unicorn for his sister. Every baby needs a stuffed toy!'

'Oh, really,' said Tonks in fake politeness. 'So what would you suggest I do with the "Property of Remus Lupin" tag around the unicorn?' she fairly snarled causing the twins to start sniggering.

'What? Oh, I had forgotten about that, damn...' Harry breathed, clearly heard by the irate expectant mother. He smiled winningly at Tonks. 'Well, you could just remove the tag ... Then again ... it does have a permanent sticking charm on it ... oh, well!' he grinned unrepentantly at the glowering pregnant Auror.

Hearing Tonks growl, Harry continued, 'Oh, come now, it isn't that bad! I mean after all, I got you a wolf with the same thing written on it except it had your name instead of Remus''

'I am going to hurt you,' Tonks said.

'But you mustn't!' cried Harry. 'Think of all the stress you will put on the baby!' he said in exaggerated concern, making Tonks' eye twitch.

'Remus!' Tonks called for her husband. 'Oh, he'll clean your clock, he will, just you wait,' she said to a very amused Harry. 'Rem-' she stopped in mid sentence when she saw that her husband was passed out next to her.

A thank you to Miss Lalla for her help in making this a chapter just that closer to perfection!

21. Regina Oppugnare

Yes, yes I know, it has been a long time ... I was suffering from a mild case of otiosity, and that interfered with writing ... along with work, the latest HP movie (*sniff* such a bittersweet moment) and what not.

New Note (added on the 31st August 2016): Over the years since I have put this chapter up, I have had a few complaints. In response to those complaints, I am putting this note up so that, well, I get lesser complaints.

Now, new readers, when you read this chapter, you will come across a rather violent scene. This involves a little slogan shouting and people taking on new names

Take note of the following:

1. There is no religion mentioned here. The words spoken and the names used are from a language called Urdu which is heavily influenced by another language called Arabic. This is not indicative of a religion.

2. Some of you might notice that the aforementioned slogan is misspelled. This is deliberate. The reason for that is simple: Urdu is a phonetic language. What is pronounced is literally what is spelt and vice versa. If a single letter is misplaced or misspelled, the entire word, phrase or sentence can be affected. Now English is kind of flexible in its spellings. If I misspell a word in English, it isn't that big a deal because the reader can get what is being said. However, Urdu is a very precisely spelt language. The precision is so high that a misspelt word in it or any other language like it (there are many) means that what you say will end up as wrong as its spelling.

So you have a person mispronouncing a slogan. What does that tell you about this person and how much he knows about what he is yelling?

I think if you consider this, things don't seem as ... objectionable.

Harry woke up early the next morning, as was usual for him. Due to the weather and the state of the backyard outside, he decided to take his Firebolt and fly around in the orchard. He reflected idly that Hermione wouldn't consider this as exercise as, in the mind of the girl, all Quidditch players did was sit on a broom and fly around, thereby not doing any exercise at all. Then again, she had never mounted a broom voluntarily. Much less trained for, or played a game of, competitive Quidditch.

While the school matches were not as intense as the professional matches, the game was still demanding on the players, and Harry knew that better than anyone, seeing as he played in the house team since he was in first year. In each match the Chasers would have to perform high speed manoeuvres while throwing the Quaffle and dodging the Chasers from the other team, the Bludgers and (if they were playing against Slytherin) the other players themselves. That required a lot of upper-body strength and manoeuvrability. The Beaters, on the other hand, had it a bit easier as they only had to watch out for Bludgers and hit them in the opposite direction. However, they had to exert their arms a lot when they hit the already speeding, dense Bludgers. The Keeper needed resistance training to be able to withstand all those Quaffle hits and deflect goal shots.

But all of that paled in comparison to what was expected of a Seeker. As a Seeker, Harry had made an average of ten high speed sharp turns, exceeding ninety miles an hour per match as he flew around, dodging the Bludgers and the players. And that wasn't factoring in the stress his body experienced when diving and pulling out of a dive.

The dives were another matter altogether. They weren't as easy as he made them out to be. When he had first made Seeker, Madame Hooch had spent the subsequent First-Year Flying Classes (which were whittled down to contain only those interested in continuing) teaching him and the rest how to position the body when diving to ensure the least amount of stress was experienced by the body. Of the whole class, Harry was the only one to have picked up the concepts quickly. As a precautionary measure, Madame Pomfrey, the school matron, had insisted that all Quidditch players reported to her at least once a year (barring injuries) to ensure that there were no adverse effects. Not that it mattered to Harry. He was there often enough and long enough to cover the mandatory check-up.

Because of this, the team members (especially the Seeker) had to undergo a bit of cardiovascular training to ensure that they were in top condition to play the game. It was mainly due to this that Harry found it easier to start his training in the summer. There was the small issue of him being slightly out of shape as he wasn't on the team for most of the year, but that had been overcome easily enough.

And so it was a very sweaty and hot young man who came inside the house to have a bath after some hard flying, featuring a variation of the training he had devised for the house team which involved him experiencing quite a few Gs. He had to hurry as he had spent too much time on his broom and his Portkey was to activate in a few moments.

Once bathed and properly dressed, Harry said his goodbyes before he shouldered his bag containing his invisibility cloak, broom and the various paraphernalia he had packed for the holidays. Clutching the invitation sent by the Dowager Lady Longbottom, he was whisked away to Longbottom Manor.

He landed just outside the gates, his knees slightly bent. Looking around, Harry took in the large imposing gates with the Longbottom family crest inlaid in them. Beyond the gates was a short gravel driveway that led to the manor from whence Harry could see his friend stepping out. As Neville approached the gates, Harry took in the house. While the Burrow was haphazard and asymmetrical, the Longbottom Manor was painfully symmetrical. Just over three storeys tall, (four if Harry counted the tower like structure peeking out of the roof of the manor) the manor was flanked on either side by two identical conical roofs at the rounded corners. What was more; from what Harry could see of the back of the manor from where he was standing the back seemed to be just as identical as the front. All in all, the manor reminded him of a square with the conical roofs at the corners.

'Hey Harry,' said Neville, as he reached the front gates, getting a greeting in return from his friend. 'Sorry for making you wait...'

'It's no problem Neville,' said Harry easily as he stepped through the gates that swung inward on their own as the Longbottom boy approached. Having called a House-Elf, Neville had Harry's things sent to a guest room after which the boy proceeded to accompany his guest towards the manor.

'You have a nice house,' Harry remarked as they walked toward the building. He did not mention the fact that he found it rather ... mathematical. The feeling only grew stronger when he noticed that the windows a floor above were exactly half the size of the windows one floor below.

'Thanks,' said Neville blushing a bit. He then launched into what could only be a well – rehearsed speech talking about the architecture of the house. Most of the terms went over Harry's head, but two things did stand out. The house was a square and all the windows got progressively smaller exactly by half as the floor number increased. All of that, apparently, was specifically seen to by Neville's great-great-grandfather, Harald Longbottom, when he had rebuilt the manor after the original was damaged in a fire. It turned out that he was famous for his love of symmetry and geometry.

'That's a nice greenhouse you've got there, Neville,' Harry remarked when they neared the oaken front doors.

'Oh, thanks,' said Neville with a broad smile on his face. A light turned on in his eyes when Harry mentioned the building. The greenhouse was not as large as the ones at Hogwarts, but it was of a respectable enough size. 'It isn't much,' began Neville. 'Gran gifted it to me for my birthday you see, so it has only been here a few months. I have a few saplings and a small plant or two there at the moment. However, I plan on acquiring some other rare plants soon...' and he launched into a spiel of his future plans for the greenhouse. Harry just nodded along at the right time, only vaguely recognising some of the plants the other boy was talking about.

He definitely remembered the Mimbulus Mimbletonia when Neville mentioned it!

'By the way, thanks for the pot of Mimosa Pudica seedlings you sent me for Christmas! I had never heard of the plant until you sent it to me!' Neville exclaimed enthusiastically as they entered the entrance hall. 'By the way, this is the entrance hall,' he waved vaguely.

'I thought you might like it,' said Harry. 'It may be a non-magical plant, but still rather curious.' He remembered that plant mainly because his aunt had agonised about getting a cutting for the garden before giving up because she did not want to pay for the shipping and customs.

'Yes, Gran certainly enjoyed it. It was a good thing that you sent the additional information, otherwise we would have never guessed what made it so special!' Neville said enthusiastically. 'She's even asked me to grow more of it so she can use it in the house for decoration.'

As he exited the Entrance Hall, Harry stopped for a moment, confused, for he suddenly found himself in a beautifully landscaped garden.

Neville grinned at the surprise on his guest's face. 'Nice isn't it?' he said. 'The courtyard is the best part of the manor. The rooms on the ground floor are designed to flow seamlessly into the courtyard. So if you do not pay close attention to your whereabouts, you will suddenly find yourself in the middle of the indoor garden here.'

'Fascinating,' Harry said in awe as they reached the centre of the courtyard where a tree of about Hagrid's height grew. 'Miniature Oak,' said Neville rapping his knuckles on the trunk of the tree. 'Purposely made to grow this small ... some Japanese technique, I forget the name. It doesn't look it, but the thing's over eighty years old!'

Harry looked back the way he had come. Now that he noticed it, he could see the gradual way the marble floor of Entrance Hall morphed into the stone pathway he was now standing on. He simultaneously noticed the open French doors that he had previously missed. The garden was unlike anything he had seen before. It was engineered so masterfully that the natural beauty of the various shrubs, herbs and the occasional miniature tree only enhanced the man-made sculptures and constructs present there and vice-versa.

'It's a lovely garden,' said Harry softly. Aside from the sounds of what sounded like a hidden brook, he could not hear anything else. The effect was peaceful.

'Yeah, there is a silencing ward around the entryways into the different rooms,' said Neville. Pointing to Harry's left, he said, 'That's the dining room. On the other side is the ballroom, and behind us are the kitchens. Except for the kitchens, the rest of the walls have a One-Way Charm placed on them. You can see out into the garden, but not into the other rooms.'

Neville then brought Harry's attention to the ceiling. 'Originally the ceiling was supposed to have the same enchantment as seen in the Great Hall, but, unfortunately, Harald Longbottom was not able to fully reproduce the enchantment despite spending ten years and a lot of galleons on funding a research team. So he went for the next best thing, he cast an illusion enchantment reproducing a cloudless blue sky in the day and a clear starry night when the sun goes down. Of course, it really isn't like the ceiling of the Great Hall.'

Harry silently agreed with Neville as he looked at the ceiling. The different types of clouds, normally found in the Great Hall at Hogwarts were absent in the periwinkle blue of the ceiling here. The effect was rather ... bland. Though he supposed that if a person had not seen the Great Hall at Hogwarts, they might have found this interesting.

Neville then led Harry past the long banquet table in an equally large dining room and up to the second floor.

'This is your room,' Neville said, opening the door to one of the rooms on the floor and showing Harry into the well – furnished guest room. Harry's luggage was already placed at the foot of the king-sized bed with his Firebolt placed on a stand set into the wall.

'Nice,' Harry commented. This was the first wizarding home he would be staying in which was not The Burrow or Grimmauld Place. While he appreciated the Weasleys, and their poor material situation did not distort his perception of them, he couldn't help but compare the room he was currently in to the Weasley household. For one, there were the switches that controlled the lighting charm set into the house. Unlike at The Burrow or at Grimmauld Place where light was provided for by candles, fireplaces or gas powered lamps, the light here permeated throughout the room, just like in the Chamber of Secrets. Though the lights in the Chamber could not be dimmed, they either were on permanently (in the case of the main Chamber) or could only be turned off or on (in the case of the vault).

'It's a new development,' Neville said, correctly interpreting the reason why his friend was playing with the light controls. He hoped Harry stopped playing with the lights soon though. All this increasing and lowering of the lights was beginning to annoy him. Not that Neville could say much. He himself had played with the controls when they were first installed, and would have continued if it weren't for his Gran.

'Really?' Harry asked his friend, abandoning the controls (much to Neville's relief). He had wondered idly why Hogwarts did not have the same charms that were in the Chamber. He had a feeling that the Founder had not shared the charm with the wider world. Apparently the knowledge had died with Salazar, only to be rediscovered centuries later.

'Yeah, bloody expensive too,' Neville replied. 'Gran got this done for the bedrooms only. Everything else is lit by candles and lamps. Our indoor garden is lit by day through strategically placed crystals that refract the sunlight from outside giving the plants inside light as you saw just a few moments back.'

'Interesting...' Harry trailed off thoughtfully. He hadn't thought of putting a lighting charm when he had first started renovating the Potters' ancestral home and Black Castle. Hopefully, Slytherin had written down how he had done the lighting charm for the Chamber. That way, Harry would be able to renew the charm in the Chamber on his own, and possibly, reproduce it in his various properties. While the candles were now encased in crystals to enhance the light they gave out, like in St. Mungo's, Harry could still see the advantages a lighting charm had over the more conventional methods used nowadays.

'Yeah, anyway, let me show you my room!' said Neville, breaking into Harry's thoughts. The boy enthusiastically led Harry to his room.

Neville's room was certainly not what Harry was expecting. For one, it did not resemble a rainforest practically bursting with members of the Regnum Plantae. 'Wow ... it's pretty clean ...' said Harry. He cast a suspicious look from the corner of his eye at his host. From his experiences in the dorm, his friend wasn't this clean! Neville was a borderline slob, just like the boys with whom he shared the dormitory with (including Harry himself).

'Why thank you,' said Neville. He quickly changed the subject, not wanting his guest to start suspecting that he had just recently cleaned the room. Walking to the window he said, 'This was where my great uncle dropped me when I was little. I bounced all the way to the road.' He trailed off reminiscently looking at the road in the distance.

Harry joined him by the window. 'Wow, that is quite a distance,' he commented after a moment. He really did not know what to say to that. He did feel a great deal of empathy for Neville though.

'Yeah,' said Neville. 'Gran was furious when she found out. She didn't allow him into the house until after I had started school. I think he really was sorry for what he did. After all, he did give me Trevor and that Mimbulus Mimbletonia.'

A house-elf with a long crooked nose and a large tuft of hair coming out of its ears popped in, interrupting the boys. 'Madame Longbottom has just arrived, master.' The elf, a male, said looking at Neville with its huge tennis-ball shaped blue eyes. 'Mistress asks that master present himself with his guest in the trophy room.'

'Thank you, Wilfred,' said Neville. The elf bowed in response and disappeared.

As soon as he entered the room, the first thing Harry saw was the head of a massive white lion staring back at him, its mouth drawn in a snarl, showing a row of deadly looking teeth with eyes glaring vacantly at the room.

'That is the head of a chimera,' said Augusta Longbottom from the entrance of the room behind him, bringing Harry out of his stupor. 'Killed it in Thirty – four ... it was really hard work ... we lost a man from our hunting party bringing that beast down. Which was quite a miracle, when you look at the number of people it had killed in the six months it had terrorised a village in Greece. We were the fifth hunting party that had gone after it, and the only, one to succeed in bringing it down. I got the head because I managed to land the killing blow.' Tearing her gaze from the trophy in front of her, the old woman turned to look at her guest. 'Lord Potter, welcome to our house,' she said formally.

'It is a pleasure to be here, Lady Longbottom. Thank you for inviting me over.' Said Harry equally formally as he took the hand she had offered him and gave it a little shake. 'I see that you too have received news of my ... change in status. And please, ma'am, call me Harry. After all, I am a friend of your grandson's. Not to mention, sixteen.' He tacked on the last bit in a respectful tone.

Augusta Longbottom gave Harry a deep assessing look before nodding satisfactorily. 'Polite,' she remarked. 'And modest too ... I think I might just end up liking you, Potter.' she suddenly smiled at him. Had he not seen her hunting trophies and heard of her exploits, Harry would have thought that she looked rather kindly and harmless.

'As for your status,' she continued. 'Only those of the Wizengamot know. For now, at least ... While under normal circumstances, that would be the end of that, I expect that your celebrity status would ensure that the general populace will soon be made aware of the fact in as public a manner as possible. Especially, since you are the subject of the infamous Black-Greengrass contract. A shame really, I was looking forward to searching for a girl for you ever since your father once mentioned it in passing after your birth...' she trailed off. 'Anyway, all is not lost.' She gave Neville a quick look as she said the last bit. Both boys blushed at the subject, not meeting each other's eyes.

'Well, gentlemen, I do believe that it is time for lunch, so if you would follow me...' With that the formidable woman led the two boys downstairs, smiling to herself. Sometimes it was just too easy to embarrass teenagers. She was looking forward to introducing the young Potter to her friend Griselda. Now that woman was a pincher.

They were soon seated at the table and served. Halfway through the meal, Augusta asked the boys about their plans for the rest of the holidays. Seeing an opportunity, Harry mentioned his meeting with the Queen that was to take place in two days.

Both grandmother and grandson looked up at this and stared at their guest. 'Blimey,' said Neville while Augusta frowned, giving Neville a fleeting glance before focusing back on Harry, 'And why did you see fit to inform us of this now, young man?'

'Well, I only received notice of the meeting yesterday afternoon,' said Harry. 'So since I was anyway going to be here in a few hours, I thought that it would be better if I told you in person.'

'Very well,' said Lady Longbottom, nodding in acceptance after a pause. 'I hope you have worded your acceptance correctly?' she said suddenly after another pause.

'Acceptance?' said Harry blankly, completely caught unaware.

'Yes, your acceptance, you know, the letter informing the Queen that you will indeed be attending?!' the woman said somewhat impatiently. Looking at the younger clone of her late godson, she had an epiphany. 'You didn't send one did you?'

'Erm, no, not really, I didn't exactly know what to say. After all, it's not as if I can send her a short note saying "I'll be there!" now, is it?'

Augusta Longbottom just looked back at him, not saying a thing while clearly indicating to Harry, by her expression, how much she appreciated his attempt at humour.

'Right,' she finally said after watching him squirm for a few minutes. 'After lunch, you are coming with me to my study. I still have Neville's old desk, so you can sit there. I will give you the appropriate parchment, a quill and some ink. Then you are going to write down, word for word, exactly what I tell you, and you are going to do it neatly and legibly. Understood?' seeing him nod, she continued 'Good boy, now I hope you have the proper attire for this meeting? Or were you planning on visiting her wearing trousers, trainers, and a t-shirt?' she pinched her nose and said, 'Merlin save me, children these days I tell you...'

'Actually, I was thinking about a pair of formal trousers, a shirt and formal shoes.' Harry said slightly defensively.

'Fair enough,' said the old woman as she thought about it. 'I guess that will do in a pinch. However, I would prefer that you wear a coat at the very least to go with the shirt, if not a proper suit with a tie. We can try searching for a suitable enough coat to buy tomorrow. Somehow, I get the feeling that you don't have a coat or tie with you.'

After they were done with lunch, Neville watched amusedly as his Gran practically dragged Harry to her study where she directed him to sit at a desk that was obviously Neville's when he was much younger. The desk, while made from good quality wood, was still rather smaller than the school desks Harry was used to at Hogwarts.

Augusta supplied him with the necessary writing materials and then proceeded to dictate the proper words he should write. Thirty minutes later, Augusta finally approved the third draft, much to Harry's immense relief.

'This is ... passable,' the formidable woman sniffed as she looked over her reading glasses at her guest. 'The handwriting leaves much to be desired, however. I would have insisted on you writing another draft if I had the time to inspect it, but I am strapped for time as it is. Be sure to practise on your handwriting. I think I shall send over some of Neville's old exercise books to you for this purpose. It is disgraceful that the head of two Ancient and Noble houses has such an atrocious handwriting.'

Harry coloured slightly at this and did not say a word, opting to settle for a grimace instead. Taking the letter from his friend's Gran, he hurried off to the owlery to send the letter to the Queen. Idly he wondered what Her Majesty would think of getting post in such a quaint manner written in material not seen for nearly two centuries now.

Harry would have loved to use paper, but unfortunately, the Longbottoms had just run out of paper and the next order was expected to arrive in January, a fact that Lady Longbottom had bemoaned. While paper was readily available in the Muggle world and was pretty cheap as a result, in the magical world the stuff was a trifle expensive compared to parchment. Somehow, magic interfered with the process of making paper, necessitating that it be hand-made without magic unlike parchment. And machine made paper that was mass produced by Muggles tended to react unfavourably to magical atmospheres, and was especially volatile when combined with Muggle produced ink and exposed to potion fumes. Something that Hermione had experienced firsthand, to her greatest dismay and disappointment, in her first year, when all her carefully written down notes had quite literally gone up in smoke during her first potions class at around the same time Neville had found out that one should not add porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire. She was lucky indeed that her textbooks had a minor fire – retardant spell on them.

Harry only knew of this when the bushy haired girl had told him that much later after they had become friends. He, like his other classmates, did not have the privilege of seeing the incident in question, seeing as he was firstly trying to keep the potion from burning a hole through his shoes like the rest of his class and secondly seething at the unfairness of the git that was Severus Snape.

He doubted that he would have known of this regardless because he really had not bothered with getting any Muggle supplies with him.

'Harry, you ready yet?' Neville said as he knocked on the door to Harry's room.

'Yeah,' said his friend from behind the door. There was a sound of muffled footsteps before the door opened to reveal Harry Potter wearing dress robes that looked to be jet black at first glance.

'Spiffy,' said Neville. He suddenly noticed that when the light played over the robes, sections of it would suddenly shine a deep poisonous green.

'Thanks, you too,' said Harry looking at his friend's blue and grey robes.

The two boys made their way down to the ground floor to the entrance hall where Augusta was there in her signature hat with the stuffed vulture.

'It's a Scottish Phoenix,' the woman said when complimented on it. 'It looks like a vulture to the untrained eye, but in reality is a close cousin to the Irish Phoenix also known as an Augurey. General opinion is that this bird, before it was stuffed, was one of the last of its kind.'

'Anyway, that shade of purple looks very good on you, ma'am,' said Harry trying to change the topic. He really did not know what to say to the fact that the woman in front of him had basically admitted to having hunted down the last member of a species down.

'Why, thank you, dear,' said the woman kindly patting his hand. 'And for future reference, it is mauve.'

Harry looked at Neville who only shrugged and shared a commiserating look with him while Augusta nodded her approval at their attire.

'It's made of basilisk skin, ma'am. From the thousand-year-old pet of Salazar Slytherin's I killed with only a sword when I was twelve in Slytherin's own Chamber of Secrets. I have had the head stuffed, and am currently searching for a place in my house to mount it.' Harry told the woman as the first few guests arrived when she asked about the material. 'Of course, it isn't the hide, more like the shed snakeskin that I had collected within the Chamber.' Grinning at her, he left the stunned woman behind as he stepped forward with Neville to greet Daphne who had arrived by Portkey with her family.

'Lord Greengrass, a pleasure, as always,' Harry shook hands with his future father-in-law after Neville was done welcoming them into his home.

'The pleasure is mine as well, Lord Potter,' the man said with a smile. 'May I introduce my wife, Alana?'

'Lady Greengrass, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. It is more than obvious where your beautiful daughter gets her good looks from,' Harry greeted suavely as he gave a short bow of his head ignoring the looks of slight disgust he was getting from Astoria.

'Lord Potter, it is a pleasure to finally meet the young man whom my daughter is betrothed to. The girls have told me many things about you,' replied the Baroness Greengrass.

'Should I be worried?' Harry asked with half a smile, causing his future mother-in-law to let out a tinkling laugh.

'No, no, dear boy, not at all! Now why don't you and Daphne here run along? Don't let the three of us keep you!'

'Indeed, ma'am,' said Harry giving a slight bow. After waving at Astoria to which he received a fake smile, he took Daphne's hand and escorted her into the ballroom among the other guests that had arrived.

'Ah, Harry, there you are!' said Augusta Longbottom in a warm voice interrupting the conversation Harry was having with some of his schoolmates that had also been invited.

'Lady Longbottom,' said Harry respectfully standing up from the table he was seated at and turning towards his hostess after excusing himself from the group. Just then he noticed a brown haired man with a square jaw standing inconspicuously behind the woman.

'Allow me to introduce Healer James Anderson,' said Augusta Longbottom indicating the square-jawed man behind her. 'He is a rising star in St Mungo's, one of, if not the best healers in Great Britain. Mr Anderson, the Earl Potter.'

'Lord Potter,' said the man, clasping Harry's hand as he shook it once, his grey eyes surveying the teenaged celebrity through a pair of rimless rectangular glasses perched on top of a strong nose spoke of a keen mind. Though his long-fingered hands were unnaturally soft, making Harry's own hand feel rough, his grip was strong without being crushing.

'Mr Anderson,' Harry smiled. 'You will have to forgive me, but even though I have vaguely heard of you before, I am not very familiar with your work.'

'Oh, I would be surprised if you had heard of my work, Lord Potter' the man replied airily. 'I am what a Muggle would call a scientist. I am primarily a researcher, so my name is famous only in certain circles. Of course, I do practise at times,' he rambled on. 'But I am more of a private Healer. Not your average Wizarding National Healthcare Healer. Not that I have anything against my colleagues who work for the W.N.H.S., of course,' he said hastily, suddenly realising the implications of his last statement.

Harry somehow found himself liking this odd man. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the man had not searched out for the scar on Harry's forehead, or perhaps it was because he was not like the average witch or wizard that Harry had met so far.

While Harry had understood (after a great deal of introspection and observation) that people held him in awe mainly because, firstly, it was really not known to them how a person had managed not only to survive, but reflect the un-blockable Killing Curse back at its caster (who just happened to be the most fearsome and terrifying Dark Lord of modern times) at the tender age of one year. Secondly, in the eyes of the people, he was the one responsible for the peace the Wizarding World had experienced for a decade and some years. Any one of those reasons would be enough to justify the feelings of awe and fascination the Magical Population of Great Britain (and indeed other countries, if the World Cup was any indication) had for him.

However, it was still unnerving and a bit off-putting to have people stare at you so; something that the man was not doing. It was this factor that had Harry liking this man.

'So what is it that you research?' Harry asked the man.

'Well, we, that is, my team and I, are looking into a way to regenerate limbs using magic. So far, my colleagues and I have been successful in regenerating noses and ears provided serious Dark Magic hasn't been used that is.'

'Sounds rather complicated,'

'Oh, you have no idea! Are you familiar with the Skele-Gro potion?'

'Intimately,' said Harry dryly, as he swirled his glass of Knotgrass rum, still remembering the taste and experience from second year.

'Well it was designed by my mentor,' said the healer, taking a sip from the glass of elderberry wine he was holding in his hand. 'Anyway, I am looking into combining that with a nerve regenerating potion. Now the potions tend to interfere with each other, so that is a major problem right now. After that, we plan on using the skin regeneration spell as well as a muscle-generating potion to finally be able to get a whole working limb.'

'Interesting,' said Harry, and he meant it. Suddenly he cast a shrewd look at the other man as he sampled some of his drink. 'Would you be looking for funding, Mr Anderson?'

The older man had the grace to look sheepish. 'Was I that evident, my lord?'

Harry just shrugged. Making a split-second decision, he said, 'Well, it does sound interesting. However, I cannot commit to a decision right now, you understand?'

'Indeed, Lord Potter!' said the man enthusiastically. 'I'll send a proposal to you detailing the work I plan on doing. You can read it and then tell me what you think.'

'Fair enough,' said Harry. 'But don't expect a reply very soon. With schoolwork and everything, I think I may be free only by the summer holidays.'

'Summer is fine! Anyway, I am finalising my paper on the regeneration of cartilaginous tissue. I won't be starting research till into the middle of next year!'

'Ah Harry, I do believe you should meet Madam Griselda Marchbanks. She is rather interested in meeting you.' said Augusta as she approached the two men with an ancient witch that Harry recognised very well walking next to her. 'Griselda,' she said to the ancient witch while gesturing towards Harry 'The Earl Potter. Oh, and James, Lord Gladstone was looking for you, if you have a few moments?' saying this, she escorted the healer with her, leaving Harry all alone with the ancient witch.

'Ah, young Harry Potter,' said the old woman, peering up at him through her wizened face.

'Ma'am,' said Harry respectfully, speaking slightly louder in deference towards her hearing. He did remember her interacting with Umbridge after all.

'There is no need to shout, young man. I am not deaf,' said the woman in an irritated tone.

'Oh, sorry,' said Harry, in a normal volume. 'It's just I remember the difficulties Professor Umbridge had when speaking to you...'

'Oh, yes, I remember now. You were there with one of Arthur's spawns and that slightly high-strung girl when I was asking Dolores about Albus,' said the woman with a look of sudden understanding on her wizened face.

Harry snorted a bit at the old witch's description of Hermione. 'Wait a minute, you mean to say that you were purposefully acting deaf in front of Umbridge?' he said suddenly.

'Well, I never did like the woman much,' sniffed Marchbanks in disdain. 'So full of herself ... and an utter failure at magic too ... Her father was also just as obnoxious, you know. It was because of him that she managed to get a passing grade in her N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s despite the honest work my colleagues and I put into evaluating her.'

'Now, you on the other hand,' she peered up at him, a penetrating look in her eyes. 'Have a lot of potential. Brilliant mind ... and rather cute,' she suddenly reached up a hand and pinched his left cheek, painfully. 'But a bit lazy, I think.' She lightly smacked him on the same cheek as she said that.

'I did alright,' said Harry rubbing his abused cheek. Did that woman have to pinch so hard?

'Yes, only "alright",' huffed Madam Marchbanks. 'I was expecting "great" actually. I had such high expectations of you when I saw your name among the list of students taking their O.W.L.s ... had to twist Tiberius's arm to get the pleasure of examining all of your answer papers! And that man put up a good fight, he did! Now, you did do quite well in Transfiguration, Charms and very well in Defence, I won't deny that. But you really need to improve your handwriting and put in more detail in your answers ... and study more.' She added the last bit, giving Harry a sour look, 'Because I had a hard time distinguishing that History of Magic paper of yours from a Jabberwocky!'

'I'm sorry?' said Harry not knowing what she was talking about.

Madam Marchbanks sighed, 'I saw the last few lines of your, erm, "answer paper" boy. At the end, the words started slurring as your last answer mutated into a rant. The most I could make out was something about opening windows before it became just a set of scribbles. Did we indulge a bit much on the night before?' she gave him a piercing look.

'What? No, I didn't!' said Harry indignantly. Mention of the History of Magic examination brought back memories of that day and consequently that night. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.

'If you say so, dear,' said Marchbanks slightly unconvinced. 'Just be sure to study more for your N.E.W.T.s.' Saying that, she turned to go. Suddenly she turned back. 'I remember what happened that night ... Were you planning on exposing that disagreeable fellow from the beginning of the day before you wrote that exam?'

'I may have...' Harry lied. No you hadn't a voice sounding like Hermione's said in his head. Oh will you shut up! He said to that first voice.

'Well then, I think you need to learn planning and prioritisation. After all, you were given advance notice when the exam was to start,' said Marchbanks. Pinching his cheek one more time, she left with a 'You take care now dear, get a homework planner.' Leaving Harry pretty confused and rubbing his smarting cheek.

Just then food appeared on the buffet tables that stood on the sides of the room. Filling his plate up, Harry slowly made his way back to the table, reclaiming his seat

'So, how was Professor Marchbanks?' asked Daphne. The knowing smirk on her face told Harry that she had seen everything and had an idea of what was said even though she hadn't heard anything.

'Great,' said Harry with as much dignity he could muster with a smarting red cheek.

'You have the same look on your face that dad had when he once spoke to her,' giggled Daphne. 'Apparently the professor takes joy in talking about people's examination results with them and telling them how much she expected of them. So far nobody has met her expectations. I can imagine that it would be rather embarrassing.'

'You have no idea,' said Harry rubbing his cheek.

'I think she likes you.'

'Really?' asked Harry sceptically. 'Because I was sure that she is convinced that I am some sort of irresponsible tippler.'

'But she still likes you,' disagreed Daphne. 'She only pinches the cheeks of people she likes, you know. It is quite funny how she does that to dad a lot.'

'Right ... how about a dance?' Harry said rather bravely in his opinion just as the band started playing.

'You know how to dance?' Daphne questioned speculatively as she took his hand.

'A little,' hedged Harry.

'Right,' said Daphne fixing him with a piercing gaze. 'Just try not to step on my feet, Potter.'

'Sure thing,'

It took a bit of trying, but soon enough Harry got comfortable enough with Daphne. Over the course of the evening, he did manage a decent amount of time on the floor to satisfy his wife-to-be. He even felt confident enough to take on Lady Greengrass, Lady Longbottom as well as the Minister and later on, her niece. He wasn't one of the best dancers around, (he tended to be a bit stiff) but he was competent enough. At the very least he did not step on any important toes.

Later on, Harry joined the other teenagers and followed Neville upstairs to the games room, passing the courtyard where some of the guests had drifted to.

'You know Potter, you aren't half bad company,' said a seventh-year from Hufflepuff named Jonathon Smethwick who stood across Harry after he finished his turn at the pool table.

'Glad you think so, Smethwick,' said Harry as he bent over with the cue and lined up a possible shot.

'Yes, you are certainly tolerable ... now that you don't have Weasley and that jumped up Mudblood hanging around you.'

The comment caused Harry to miss the ball and nearly dig the cue into the table while the other occupants in the room went silent.

Shocked and furious, Harry rose to his full height to face the other boy who was leaning against the wall, fire in his eyes. However, before he could open his mouth, Neville stepped in.

'There is no need for that sort of language here, Smethwick. I insist you apologise.'

Smethwick just shrugged nonchalantly and said, 'very well, if you insist...' he turned to Harry and said formally, 'I apologise for my use of language, Potter. It certainly was uncalled for in the present company.'

Harry knew that it wasn't much of an apology. After all, he hadn't exactly apologised for insulting Hermione like that. But before he could say anything, Neville silently gave him a look telling him to drop it.

'Apology accepted,' Harry said stiffly, shooting Neville a dirty look as he turned away from the table and to the far end of the room and helped himself to a drink.

'What was all that about?'

Neville licked his lips as he turned to face Harry. While Harry was still perfectly sociable after the incident, seeming to have shrugged everything off, Neville could see that beneath it all he really was seething.

Indeed Harry had good reason to be angry with almost everybody there. It had not taken him long to realise that nobody in the room seemed to really care about the Mudblood comment. While Harry understood nobody openly saying anything outright against the usage of such a word, he could not help but notice that nobody actually genuinely cared. It wasn't easy to notice, but notice he did. It was almost as if they were silently agreeing with Smethwick. The conclusions he had drawn from this were disturbing at the least.

However, he kept his temper in check for the remainder of the party, acting like the perfect guest, much to Neville's relief. However, nobody except Neville noticed the dangerous and intense flashes of green that would be seen in the famous teen's eyes every now and then when Harry thought nobody was looking.

And so Neville was very nervous indeed when he realised that he was facing a very angry Harry Potter. Even though Harry had used a neutral (and some would even call it calm) tone, the green glow present in his eyes that was now very prominent in the low light of the room showed how pissed off Harry was.

'Well, I was kind of hoping that I had enough time to tell you about this and that you did not find out this way, but I guess it cannot be helped now,' Neville sighed.

'Tell me what? that everybody here is just the same as Malfoy or one of Voldemort's Death Eaters, that they all think that they are better than the so called "Mudbloods"?' Harry snarled. 'I thought you were different, Neville. But from what it looks like you are just like Bellatrix –'

'I am nothing like that, that, woman!' Neville snarled back shaking in suppressed anger as the cabinet next to him rattled. Taking a deep breath, the blonde haired boy continued. 'I – we have no problem with Muggleborns. I get along just fine with Justin and Dean. Even Jonathon gets along well with Muggleborns! The bloke's got a Muggleborn and a half-blood for parents, for Merlin's sake!'

Harry's eyes dimmed somewhat as his face showed confusion. 'Then why did he –'

'– Call Hermione a Mudblood?' Neville cut in, snorting. 'It's because nobody in the room, me included, can stand her.'

'But ... why?'

'Why? Really, you need to actually ask that?' said Neville intensely. 'Alright, I'll tell you why. It's because she thinks she is better than everybody else. I, hell everybody has noticed that about her. The number of times she goes on and on acting like she knows everything just because she read a book or two on the subject. The way she seems to feel that she is the alpha and the omega when it comes to any subject under the sun and that everybody around her is wrong, going so far as to ignore others' opinion on a subject while forcing her opinions down people's throat without giving a damn whether it is needed or not. And most of all, what annoys me the most, is how she spits on our traditions and beliefs! I personally had no problems with her existence till fourth year and that stupid spew thing of hers! Yes, calling her a Mudblood is over the top and I personally feel that Smethwick was over the line, but at the same time, how dare she go around insinuating that we, all of us and our ancestors, are a bunch of barbarians!' Neville was fairly shouting by the end. Taking a deep breath he continued in a much softer though no less heated voice, 'While none of us will actually call her that name under normal circumstances, at the same time, you will not see us defend her as we just don't care.'

Harry just stood there looking at his normally quiet friend in shock. Finally finding his voice, he slowly spoke to his heavily breathing friend. 'I – I didn't know you felt this strongly, Neville.' He cleared his throat. 'Why didn't you say something before? Come to think of it, why hasn't anybody said anything?'

'That is mainly because of you, mate,' seeing Harry's confused look, Neville sighed tiredly. 'You really have no clue, do you? Well, let me put it this way. The reason nobody says anything outright to Hermione is because of the fact that she is your friend. Your status and influence in school, not to mention the rumours of your past exploits, have protected her. Of course there are people like Malfoy who are not shy of letting their opinions known, regardless. Though personally I think that Malfoy does what he does to get attention.'

'Oh please,' Harry snorted. 'My influence cannot be so great! After all I wasn't exactly popular for a few months in my second and fourth years and was pretty unpopular for the whole of fifth year.'

'Maybe,' said Neville as he headed towards the door. 'But think about this: nobody, including Malfoy, has ever said anything about your blood status or your mother's blood status. To us, you are considered to be one of us ... After all,' he smiled at Harry from the doorway. 'Both your parents were magical.' So saying this, Neville left the room leaving Harry deep in thought.

The old woman adjusted her yellow suit as she heard the light knock on the door as she stood next to her armchair, her face neutral.

The door opened to reveal a finely liveried butler who stepped in and announced, 'The Earl Potter, and Madame Amelia Bones are here to see you, ma'am.'

The butler stepped aside and gestured behind him, allowing a woman with short iron grey hair and a young man to enter. The men gave a short bow and the woman dropped into a curtsy.

'Minister Bones,' the woman greeted as she walked forward and held out her hand as the door closed behind them.

'Your Majesty,' Amelia Bones, the Minister of Magic replied giving another curtsey as she lightly grasped the proffered hand.

The Queen then turned her attention to the tall young man. Holding out her hand, she said, 'Lord Potter.'

'Your Majesty,' the young man said as he gave a short bow at the neck and briefly shook her hand.

'Please, do take a seat,' said The Queen with a pleasant smile as she herself took her seat around a low coffee table. 'Would you like some tea?' Seeing them nod as they sat down on the wingback chairs opposite her, the attendants came forward and poured three cups.

After the drinks were served, the Queen silently observed her guests. The Minister, as was usual for her, was dressed in an austere trouser – suit in charcoal grey. The young man on the other hand was fashionably dressed in a pale blue shirt, cream trousers and a light blue linen lounge jacket. Casual, but not overly so, was her silent observation. She supposed she could allow that. At least he hadn't come in dressed like a slob.

'How is Cornelius Fudge?' She addressed Amelia after a moment of silence.

Amelia's eye twitched for a moment before she replied, 'He is fine.' Privately she was planning on removing the bungling idiot as soon as possible.

'One hopes that he comes here again as a liaison,' The Queen said idly. She certainly could use the slip-ups the man made on many occasions. It did help give her a more complete picture of what was happening.

Suddenly remembering something else, the monarch turned to Amelia Bones. 'And how is Bartemius Crouch? I recall he preceded you as the head of the Dee Em El Ee, if I am not mistaken.'

Setting her cup down, Amelia said carefully. 'Nobody really knows. The man has been missing for over two years now. There is speculation that he has been killed, but without a body, there really is no solid evidence.' She mentally lamented that Fudge hadn't disappeared in a similar fashion. It would have things so much easier.

'Is there something you wish to add, Lord Potter?' The Queen had noticed the rather peculiar look cross the boy's face at the mention of Crouch. It was minute and any normal person would have missed it, but she had enough experience to notice.

'Um, no, nothing at all,' the teenager said quickly.

The Queen gave him an assessing look. 'So you are Harry Potter. Cornelius certainly spoke a lot about you over the past few months when we have met him. One does wonder why the Minister of Magic is so interested in pressing the services of a sixteen-year old schoolboy to bolster his image. Of course, I have heard about your story and what made you famous before you could walk or talk. It explains your popularity, but it does not explain why Cornelius and Scrimgeour are interested in using you to bolster the image of the Ministry. Nor does it explain why they feel that you are the person this conflict hinges upon.'

'Well,' Harry began slowly. 'I really have no idea why these two men are interested in me either, ma'am. They have not approached me for anything, so I guess that only they can answer the question. And I don't have any idea as to why they feel that I am instrumental in this conflict as you call it.'

The Queen looked at him as if he had failed a test involving a very easy answer.

'I see,' she began slowly. 'By the way, I received your letter the other day giving your acceptance.'

Nonplussed by this sudden change in topic Harry shrugged. 'That's, um, nice. Ma'am' he added in hastily.

'Yes, well, normally we communicate with the Minister of our magical realm through the use of a portrait.' The Queen continued idly. 'However, as of the last few months, I have become rather accustomed to owl post.' Putting her cup down, she picked up a folder from a side table. 'After all, it is the way your newspaper, The Daily Prophet, if I am not mistaken, delivers your papers.'

Still continuing to speak in a normal tone, and pointedly ignoring the looks of surprise on both their faces, The Queen opened the folder. 'Now, after we heard about you, Lord Potter, we did research of our own. After all, to suddenly hear about the resurrection of a long thought dead individual is a great concern to us. Especially considering that Cornelius in his tenure as Minister has seen fit to rarely, if ever, interact with us. So I have spoken to some of my sources.'

Putting on her glasses, she muttered to herself while flipping through the pages in the folder, 'Let's see...' finding the page, she looked up and said, 'Care to explain why a newspaper that has spent quite a bit of time and energy ridiculing and slandering you over the past one year has suddenly changed its stance and has taken to calling you the "Chosen One", Lord Potter?' not bothering to wait for a response, the monarch continued while flipping more pages, 'I have also unearthed some rumours surrounding you over your years in Hogwarts. There are some interesting rumours of you and a "basilisk", whatever that is, as well as you being capable of driving away a hundred of those vile creatures that you people insist on using as security for your prison at the age of thirteen.'

Closing the file and putting it down, The Queen looked at the boy sitting across from her. 'I am well aware that there is something you know, Lord Potter, and I also am aware that you, Minister, are hiding something regarding the state of our Magical Realm from us. Now, why don't you both stop tiptoeing about and tell me what you know. We demand it. We have reached the end of our patience. And you can start with Bartemius Crouch.' Saying so, she set them with an imperious and expectant look on her face.

'Yes, your majesty,' Amelia responded quickly causing Harry to momentarily glance at her curiously. She really had no idea how The Queen knew what she knew, but it seems that the monarch was wilier than previously thought. To think that she had managed to unearth so much in the past few months ... it was worrying. 'As I said earlier, what the Ministry knows is that Bartemius Crouch has been missing for nearly two years now and is presumed dead.' Turning to Harry she took a deep breath and said, 'Lord Potter, it seems that you know about what actually happened to Barty, could you please share what you know with us?' she had initially been hoping to ask the boy in private, but with the way things were going, that answer was going to come out now and there was nothing that she could do about it.

'You actually don't know?' Harry asked the Minister a bit incredulously. Seeing no change in her expression, he continued, 'I thought this was classified information, but wow ... you really had no idea ... well ... this is awkward.' Not knowing what else to do, he took a sip of his tea. He could feel a bit of perspiration forming on his upper lip from being under intense scrutiny from both the formidable women.

'We are waiting, Lord Potter,' The Queen said with a hint of curiosity and a touch of asperity when Harry looked her way.

Clearing his throat and feeling slightly fatalistic, Harry recounted what he had learnt of Barty Crouch's actions regarding his family. '...And so the body of Barty Crouch Sr. is currently buried in front of Hagrid's hut transfigured as a bone...' he said in conclusion, to a shocked audience. 'Provided Fang hasn't found him yet,' he added.

'And why am I hearing of this right now, Lord Potter?' Amelia finally asked, her brow digging painfully into her monocle as she frowned at the teen. This was a serious offence if the boy was found to have been holding back such important information from the Ministry.

'I have no clue. After all, Barty Crouch the Death Eater was unmasked by Professor Dumbledore, the Chief Warlock and the Supreme Mugwump, and the evidence was consequently presented to Minister Fudge who by the way had Crouch Kissed post-haste. All that happened two years ago.'

That – that – bloody imbecile! Amelia raged mentally. Perhaps she should consider making him disappear. It certainly would be easy considering the current climate.

'"Kissed"? I am afraid I do not understand.' Said The Queen.

'Oh, that's when a dementor sucks your soul out,' Harry said conversationally. In the span of ten minutes, he had not only revealed a major cover up done by Fudge, but had also revealed the secrets of a dead man who was thought to be a respected individual. For that reason, he felt slightly giddy from the adrenalin rush he had experienced in telling his story.

'Dear God!' the Queen exclaimed softly. Quickly composing herself, she fixed a calculating look at Harry. 'You definitely do seem rather involved in the goings on of the Magical realm, more specifically about the threat this Voldemort poses. There may be substance to these rumours after all.

'So, tell me what you know of him.' She finally stated after a few moments of silence.

'Is everything ready?' Faizaan asked his friend and comrade, Yusuf.

'Yes,' Yusuf said nervously.

'Alright then, let's move out.' While outwardly calm, the slight twitching of his fingers showed how nervous Faizaan was.

Mouth suddenly dry, Yusuf followed his brother – in – arms out of the utility room and stepped into the house, reflecting on the past.

Nearly ten years back, Yusuf and Faizaan were completely different people with different names. That was until they had met a man they only knew as The Master. The older man had enthralled the then nineteen year old Joseph and Jerad with his fiery speech and impassioned sermons. The Master had soon taken a special interest in the youths when he found out their chosen professions. In time, he had opened their eyes to the reality of the world, exposing the corrupting influences of the West to them. At first, they had wanted to quit their training and pursue a new career as they did not like the idea of being protectors of such a society. However, The Master had discouraged this, saying that they would be able to further the cause by continuing. He even gave them additional instructions regarding their initial dream.

At first the two had no idea what The Master was talking about but had followed the instructions given to them, joining the SO14 branch of the London Metropolitan Police. As soon as they had joined, The Master then had directed them not to initiate contact with him or talk to any member of their brotherhood without being extremely discreet.

After a few years of silence, where the two had continued to follow their faith and the beliefs of their brotherhood, going so far as to unofficially rename themselves Yusuf and Faizaan respectively, The Master had called, giving them their assignments.

It had taken a few months to arrange everything, but now they were ready to carry out their assignment: To assassinate the Queen of England. Their secondary objectives were to take out any other members of the Royal Family as well if they could manage it. This, The Master had assured them, would show the world their power, especially as it would be two years after the events of 2001 had humbled America.

'I heard a rumour that she is meeting "the Minister",' Yusuf said in a low voice as they slowly made their way through the corridors of Sandrigam House and towards the study. 'It could be the Prime Minister.'

'It couldn't possibly be the Prime Minister,' Faizaan said dismissively. 'We would have known beforehand.

'It would be nice if it was, though.' Yusuf replied. 'Then again, the details of this meeting and the identity of the guests have been rather vague, so it is a possibility that it is someone very important.'

'Perhaps, but don't get your hopes up. You're up now.' Said Faizaan as he veered off, letting Yusuf go forward to where a guard was standing outside a door.

The guard simply nodded to him and left his post, not questioning Yusuf's presence. After all, it was Yusuf's shift.

Once the coast was clear, Faizaan joined the other man. 'You ready?' he asked.

His breath quickening, Yusuf just nodded. 'Allah huakbar,' he said as he drew his gun

'Allah huakbar'

Harry had just finished talking about the Chamber of Secrets and was putting on his jacket after showing his sceptical audience the scar that was the remnant of the basilisk bite when the doors opened quietly. Turning around, he noticed two armed men in suits stepping in. Seeing the drawn guns, he instinctively held his hand out and mentally yelled Protego while willing a shield to form just as the first shots were fired.

The Protego shield creates a barrier of magical energy that acts to deflect and dissipate high concentrations of energy sent towards it. The effectiveness of the spell depends on the caster's strength. The spell was mainly designed with minor to strong hexes and jinxes in mind, the energy output of which is significantly higher than what is seen in a 9x19 mm bullet fired by a Glock 17 which is standard issue for the Royal Protection Force.

The difference between a bullet fired by a gun and a spell is that the latter is pure energy while the former is basically a piece of metal hurled forward by energy. As the shield Harry formed at the moment was not the structured spell of a wand, the magic reacted unexpectedly and reflected the energy back on the two would – be assassins while the bullets, now devoid of energy, stayed suspended for just a moment before falling down to the ground, slightly warped from the sudden changes in motion.

Yusuf had five seconds to register the bullet literally come to a halt as it sped towards the black-haired boy in front of him, before he found himself pushed back a few steps, tripping on his own two feet and falling on his arse. Faizaan, on the other hand had managed to keep his balance. However that was short – lived when he suddenly saw a jet of red light courtesy of Minister Bones hit him, violently ripping the gun from his hand and sending him flying out of the room and into the corridor where he skidded to a halt a few feet away.

Harry's shield wasn't as potent as it would be with a wand, making him stumble. The combination of this, the sudden drain of consciously casting something significantly higher than a banisher without a wand and the coffee table just behind him had the cumulative effect of sending Harry crashing down as his shins painfully collided with the small table.

The ruckus created by the breaking china and coffee table was more than enough to attract the attention of those in the immediate vicinity who hadn't heard the gunshots.

As he heard the footsteps of the security team rushing in Faizaan realised that their attempt had somehow, inexplicably, failed. Not wanting to go through the questioning that would immediately follow, he bit down on the hollow tooth containing enough cyanide to end his life.

Andrew Smythe, the security chief burst into the room, his team a few short feet behind him to find Her Majesty bending over a groaning young man sprawled over the remains of the Louis XVI antique coffee table while a formidable-looking woman who looked remarkably like Judy Dench with a monocle was standing and pointing a stick of all things at one of his men, Joseph, who was sprawled at the entrance, clearly unconscious while Jerad was outside twitching occasionally in what Andrew recognised as the effects of cyanide poisoning. Quickly coming to a conclusion, as only a man of his profession could, he brought his gun to bear on Joseph, correctly interpreting that the unconscious man was responsible for the gunshots.

Harry on the other hand was dimly aware of being helped to his feet. He felt slightly light headed and disoriented. Everything from the back of his head down to the back of his knees was dully throbbing.

'Get him over here,' said a voice, while another called for a doctor.

A pair of hands removed his jacket and undid the top two buttons of his shirt as he was laid down on a sofa while another thrust a glass under his nose tipping the contents into his mouth. He reflexively drank it. Only to start coughing as the liquid, clearly brandy, burnt his throat as it went down, clearing his head a bit.

'There's a good lad,' said an old man who Harry recognised as the Duke of Edinburgh holding the glass of brandy.

The next half hour was spent in confusion as the chief of security kept demanding answers and wondering what exactly had happened in the room. Things were eventually smoothed out when Amelia had someone from the Obliviator Squad to take care of the issues. The Queen had also decided to place a gag order on the incident. As far as she was concerned, there was no need for anybody to know of this incident. It would definitely raise too many questions.

Not that Harry had anything to say about it. He just sat on the sofa clutching an ice pack on the lump on the back of his head as the royal physician examined him, occasionally sipping from the large glass of brandy. Other than a tender back, and a splinter in one arm that was removed as soon as it was found, the doctor declared that Harry was fine. He was ordered bed rest for the remainder of the day, however.

The real casualty of the incident was his jacket which was ruined beyond repair, what with the amount of tea spilt on it and the long gash on the left sleeve where it had ripped on the table.

Just before he was led by Amelia to the private chamber where he would be taken back to Longbottom Manor, Harry remembered something.

'Tom Riddle only thought he was the heir of Slytherin,' he told The Queen and the Minister privately, with the security staff standing a bit away, watching the conversation. 'The truth is that somehow, I am the one who is the heir, and now the head of House Slytherin. I have proof.' Saying so, he handed the Letters Patent signed by King Alfred the Great recognising Salazar as the Earl of Grantabrycge.

'I'll have these looked at,' said The Queen as she put on a pair of glasses and glanced through the document.

With a final goodbye, Harry was whisked off to Longbottom Manor with the Minister of Magic.

A hundred virtual quid to the person who finds the subtle dig I made towards a major character

As always a thank you to Miss Lalla for helping out with the chapter

And another thank you to Thechampwholived for also betaing

22. Revelations

From the moment he saw him, Neville knew that something had happened to Harry. While the other boy was walking of his own volition, something about his demeanour indicated that not everything was right.

'What the hell happened to you?' he asked his friend.

Harry just gave a non-committal grunt as he ambled past Neville, disappearing into the house.

Minister Bones, who was still there, spoke up, 'There was a bit of an incident in our meeting.' Not giving any further explanation, she turned on her heel and Disapparated.

Wondering what was going on, Neville entered the house, looking for Harry. He found him halfway up the stairs, slowly making his way up to the guest-room.

Concerned, Neville followed him up the stairs and into the guest-room where Harry collapsed on the bed.

'Are you alright, mate?' Neville asked in a concerned voice.

'Headache,' Harry replied succinctly, his voice muffled by the pillow.

'Back's a bit sore too.' He grimaced, as he turned around and sat up, the strained muscles on his back stretching again. He slowly shrugged off his jacket and looked at it critically. There was a huge tea stain at the back and the left elbow was ripped.

'Well, that's a loss,' he said with a minor wince. He had just bought the thing yesterday when Augusta Longbottom had all but dragged him to Harrods. While it was practically the first thing he found there, he liked it nonetheless.

'You want me to call for a healer or something?'

'Nah,' said Harry after considering Neville's suggestion. 'A Muggle healer examined me. He didn't seem to think it was anything serious other than some bruising and a major headache with a lump the size of a Quaffle on the back of my head.' He had enough of seeing those of the medical profession for the day to want any more of that.

'Alright,' said Neville.

The two boys sat there in silence for a moment or two before Neville could no longer contain his curiosity, 'So ... What the hell happened?'

Harry recounted his visit to The Queen and the events that followed afterwards.

'Okay, so let me get this straight,' said Neville when Harry finished. 'You managed to cast a wandless and wordless shield to stop two bullets in their tracks?' At Harry's nod, he continued, 'Fair enough. So why are you all sore and bruised?'

Harry cleared his throat and said something indistinct.

'Sorry? I don't think I quite got that.'

'There was this coffee table behind me and I ... tripped over it. Which is how I hurt my back and head.' said Harry with as much dignity as he could muster.

Neville made an indistinct noise at the back of his throat. 'Who'd have thought? Harry Potter, basilisk slayer, the chosen one, the boy who faced Voldemort three times so far-'

'Actually it's four. I mean, I did face a version of him in second year,' Harry muttered, interrupting Neville.

'Right, the boy who faced Voldemort four times-'

'Although, technically it is five times so far,' Harry interrupted Neville again. Counting his fingers, he said thoughtfully, 'Yeah, the first time when I was one, once in first year, then second year, then fourth and fifth years.'

'Whatever! My point here is that you, who has done so much, and trained so hard, have been taken down by a coffee table!' exclaimed Neville, grinning

'Yeah,' said Harry contemplatively. 'It is weird, isn't it? I tripped over a coffee table! Of course, I would like to think that I would have managed to get back up in time to take the attackers out ... but it does make you think though. No matter how powerful you are, sometimes it is the small things that can get you. After all, look at Voldemort! He was a powerful Dark Lord, that to the most dangerous one in recent times! He was winning then! The man was all but the ruler of Magical Britain at that point! And he was taken down by a mere baby.'

The grin slid off Neville's face at that. 'You sure know how to kill my fun, Potter,' he said with a pout.

'I try,' said Harry grinning wryly. 'Then again, it wasn't that bad an attempt at my first wandless shield. I think I did the best I could under the circumstances. Though, checking my surroundings might have been a good idea.' He winced again, 'I'm really going to feel this the next morning.'

'Wilfred,' called Neville causing the house-elf in question to arrive with a pop. 'Master called?' the elf said looking up at Neville.

'Can you get a phial of headache relieving potion and some bruise salve, please?'

'At once, master.' Saying this, the elf popped out, returning back with the requested items.

'Here, this will help with the headache,' Neville said as he gave Harry the phial. 'And this,' he held the jar, 'will help with your back.'

Harry took the potion and sighed as he felt it working its magic. Opening his eyes, he looked at the jar of salve, considering. It was going to take a lot of arm twisting on his part to get that properly on his back...

'Would you like my help with that?' Neville asked Harry, correctly interpreting the look on his friend's face.

Harry regarded the other boy silently. 'Uh, sure,' he said finally, as he started unbuttoning his shirt. 'I was just thinking how much better it would have been if it were Daphne doing this.' He grinned at his friend as he tossed the shirt aside. Lying face down, he waited for Neville to start.

'Yeah, you have a point there,' Neville chuckled. 'After all, I am kind of wishing that this was Susan I was doing this to, you know.'

'Speaking of which, how are things going on between the two of you?' asked Neville sitting back after applying the salve.

Harry got up and stretched, relishing in the relief as the soreness went away. Settling against the headboard, he replied, 'Things are going along, I guess.' He stared off into space, thinking. 'We aren't madly in love with each other, for one we aren't exactly snogging at the drop of a hat in the nearest cupboard we can find. But yeah, I am beginning to like her a lot. And I think she also feels the same way ... though it is hard to tell. She is a bit, you know...' he trailed off.

'Yeah,' said Neville. 'She is a bit on the quiet side. I remember meeting her back when we were kids, before Hogwarts. She was just as quiet then ... it was almost as if she was off in her own world. To tell you the truth, she has opened up a lot since then.'

Neville's words gave Harry something to think about. Perhaps there was another cause for Daphne's aloofness. After all, nobody is that aloof from the beginning. Daphne sort of reminded him of Luna in a way without that distinct air of dottiness that was around Luna.

Lady Longbottom, who had gone out for the day, returned to the manor in the evening. Over dinner she wasted no time in asking Harry about his meeting. This prompted another retelling of the incident.

'Not bad at all, Harry,' the old woman said, looking at him appraisingly. 'You handled yourself well under the circumstances. It definitely is no mean feat to be able to put up a shield without a wand. However, perhaps the next time you should be a bit more aware of your surroundings.'

Harry respectfully inclined his head silently in deference to her comments.

'And on that note, what were you doing going around without a wand?' Lady Longbottom asked sharply.

'Ah, that reminds me,' Harry said suddenly remembering. 'I sent my wand to Ollivander. There are some modifications that I wanted done to it. He said that it should be ready a little after New Year's. Until then I am without a wand, I'm afraid.' Seeing Lady Longbottom's raised eyebrows, Harry hastened to explain. 'It is a necessity more than anything. I'm getting another core added in.'

'Well, I trust that you have the good sense not to tell all and sundry that you don't have a wand on you right now.' Lady Longbottom said primly. 'It would not be good if the wrong sort heard that you are unarmed and defenceless. Loose lips and all that, you know.'

'Of course not!' Harry said slightly defensively. 'In fact, you are the first person I've told.'

Lady Longbottom gave an approving nod at this. Turning to Neville she said, 'I think tomorrow we can go visit Frank and Alice. It is a bit later than usual, but such things cannot be helped.'

Neville's cheeks flushed at this as he gave a subdued 'OK.'

'Hey, cheer up, Neville,' said Harry before Lady Longbottom could open her mouth, no doubt to reprimand her grandson. 'It could have been worse, I mean, you at least can visit your parents. All I have are photographic representations of other people's memories.' he said slightly bitterly. 'I haven't even been given the opportunity to even see their graves.'

'Why ever not?' said Lady Longbottom, appalled. 'Surely your relatives would have taken you there...'

Harry laughed bitterly. 'My relatives are basically the Muggle version of the Death Eaters in that they hate any and everything to do with magic, including me. My aunt absolutely loathes my mother and anything to do with her. The idea of her taking me to see my mum's grave is laughable! In fact, until my Hogwarts letter came, my "relatives" had me thinking that my parents were drunken layabouts who died in a Muggle car crash since they couldn't control their liquor. Hagrid was the first person who told me the truth, you know.'

The table was silent at this unexpected outburst. Lady Longbottom cleared her throat, 'And what of your Magical guardian? I know for a fact that all Muggle-raised students are assigned one.'

Harry snorted, 'Who, Albus Dumbledore? Please! It was only in the October of my first year that I found out where my parents were buried, and that too, from a library book! Dumbledore did not see it fit to tell me that I had a magical guardian much less that it was him! If I hadn't spoken to my account manager at Gringotts this summer, I would still be ignorant of that fact. If he cannot deign to tell me that, what hope is there of him taking me to see their graves?' Harry's voice by this time was fairly shaking with suppressed rage. Breathing deeply to get his voice under control, he continued. 'At any rate, I don't really care anymore. Now that I am finally out from under his thumb, I am free to do as I please. The minute school lets out for the summer I plan on seeking the place out. Dumbledore can go hang for all I care.'

'Well, there is no need for that,' said Lady Longbottom into the silence. 'No, you do not need to wait for the summer to do that as I shall be taking you there tomorrow myself ... After we visit Frank and Alice of course.'

Taken aback at this offer, Harry said awkwardly, 'I don't want to put you through any trouble, ma'am.'

'No it's fine,' the formidable woman replied with a wave. 'I want to visit my godson's grave anyway. It has been far too long. I think it is appropriate to take you along as he is your father as well.'

'I – thank you,' Harry replied in a slightly choked voice. 'I had no idea that you were my father's godmother.'

'Yes I was,' said Lady Longbottom with a reminiscent look on her face. 'He was quite a happy little boy. He and Frank were quite close. Not as close as James was with Sirius, but that is understandable since Frank was two years older ... I ... wish that I hadn't lost touch with James later on in his life ...' she trailed off, a faraway look in her eyes. Quickly recovering, she cleared her throat, 'Well, looks like we have quite a day ahead of us tomorrow.'

Once they retired for the night, Harry quietly extracted the photograph album Hagrid had given him so long ago. Sitting up on his bed, he perused the old pictures of his parents, smiling and waving up at him from the images, which were all he had left of them now. He was about to go home, about to return to the place where he had had a family. It was in Godric's Hollow that, but for Voldemort, he would have grown up and spent every school holiday. He could have invited friends to his house. … He might even have had broth ers and sisters. … It would have been his mother who had made his seventeenth birthday cake when he came of age. The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.

After having a quick breakfast, Harry and the Longbottoms had gone to St Mungo's to visit Neville's parents. After spending a few awkward minutes talking to the unresponsive couple, he was left alone in the permanent ward, in the company of the remaining patients, of which he had a relationship with two, seeing as he was in one way or another responsible for them ending up in there; his comatose fifth year Defence teacher, and his addled second year Defence teacher. Now if only his sixth year Defence teacher were to join them...

After the Longbottoms were done, the three of them had lunch in an upscale restaurant which was cleverly hidden away in another building a few blocks away from St Mungo's. Jittery with excitement, Harry barely paid attention to what he was having or to his surroundings.

By late afternoon, they appeared on a lonely road. The wind howled loudly, carrying soft flakes of snow. Even though it was late afternoon, the road was deserted as the people in the village preferred to stay inside, away from the howling winds and the cold swirling snow, a mug or glass of their preferred drink in hand as they sat in front of their fireplaces, wrapped up in their blankets as they glanced out of their fogged windows into the bitter cold and the falling snow as darkness quickly stole over the land.

Because of this, nobody noticed when three figures appeared suddenly with what would have been a resounding pop had the wind not masked the sound.

Pocketing the Portkey that brought them there, Lady Longbottom led her grandson and his friend down the road and into the village of Godric's Hollow.

As he followed the Longbottoms into the village, Harry looked at his surroundings. Cot tages stood on either side of the narrow road, Christmas decorations still twinkling in their windows. A short way ahead of them, a glow of golden street lamps indicated the centre of the village.

They made their way forward unhampered, the icy air stinging their faces as they passed more cottages: Any one of them might have been the one in which James and Lily had once lived. Harry gazed at the front doors, their snow-burdened roofs, and their front porches, wondering whether he remembered any of them, knowing deep inside that it was impossible, that he had been little more than a year old when he had left this place forever. Then the little lane along which they were walking curved to the left and the heart of the village, a small square, was revealed to them.

Strung all around with coloured lights, there was what looked like a war memorial in the middle, partly obscured by a windblown Christmas tree. There were several shops, a post office, a pub, and a little church whose stained-glass windows were glowing jewel-bright across the square.

The snow here had become impacted: It was hard and slippery where people had trodden on it all day. Villagers were criss-crossing in front of them, their figures briefly illuminated by street lamps. They heard a snatch of laughter and pop music as the pub door opened and closed.

'I think you might want to have a look at this,' said Neville as they neared the war memorial.

'What?' asked Harry curiously, tearing his eyes away from the little church and the graveyard where he was sure his parents would be resting. Seeing Neville and Lady Longbottom near the war memorial, Harry stepped forward, inhaling sharply when he neared the structure.

Before his very eyes, the memorial transformed. Instead of an obelisk covered in names, there was a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sit ting in his mother's arms. Snow lay upon all their heads, like fluffy white caps.

Harry drew closer, gazing up into his parents' faces. He had never imagined that there would be a statue. … How strange it was to see himself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on his forehead. …

'Gran brought me here when I was little,' said Neville softly. 'I vaguely remember the place.' He explained as he looked at the church. 'Did you know that Godric Gryffindor is said to have come from here?'

Harry did know. Salazar had met a young Godric Gryffindor in this village.

After returning from his journey, Salazar had not wasted any time killing every Muggle in the village where his family had been killed. The detailed account of what he had done was disturbing at the least. However, Harry could not help but be impressed by what Salazar had thought up with.

After all, encasing the bodies of your slain victims in stone immediately afterwards and then using those statues as the defences of your castle is pretty devious by itself. Then to do it to those who were directly responsible while they were still alive was even more devious. The bodies would never age, nor decompose, thanks to the stone and the magic. Harry wondered how long it took for the live victims to succumb.

Once he had his castle under construction, Salazar had gone in search of an apprentice. This was how he met Godric in this very village. While he was impressed with the young man's cunning in buying a goblin-made sword in his family's name (thereby ensuring that it would pass down to his heirs) and his intelligence, Salazar was less impressed by the man's brashness and love of combat, his policy of sticking his sword into things and finally his moral compass, calling him a "naive, brash and deluded fool with an unrealistic view of the world."

Frankly, Harry reflected as they approached the church, he didn't much care for that.

Pushing open the kissing gate at the entrance of the graveyard, Harry walked in slowly, followed by the Longbottoms. The snow on either side of the slippery path up to the church doors was deep and untouched. Augusta Longbottom waved her wand, parting the snow in front of her and creating a pathway the three of them could navigate without any difficulty as they walked around the building.

Behind the church, row upon row of snowy tombstones protruded from a blanket of pale blue that was flecked with dazzling red, gold, and green wherever the reflections from the stained glass hit the snow. Harry moved toward the nearest grave.

'Look at this, it's an Abbott, could be some long-lost relation of Hannah's!'

'Indeed, Harry,' said Lady Longbottom. 'Many old families had started out from this village. As a result, some have kept up the tradition of interring their dead in the graveyard here. The more affluent families do have their own private graveyards.' She paused for a moment as she parted more snow in front of them. 'Your parents would have been buried in the private graveyard near your family's ancestral home, but with you being the last Potter, the wards made the property inaccessible. This was why they are buried here. That and certain people felt that it would be a good idea if the gravesites of the parents of the Boy Who Lived were accessible to the general wizarding public.' Glancing behind her and noticing the scowl on the boy's face she said, 'I see that the notion does not appeal to you. However, be glad that they have been buried here. It could have been much worse. Your parents could have been encased in crystal sarcophagi and placed somewhere inane like in Diagon Alley or in the Ministry building for all to see.' She sniffed derisively. 'Here, they are in the company of quite a few icons and luminaries of our world. For example, Bowman Wright is buried here!'

'I suppose you have a point,' Harry said grudgingly.

After a moment of silence, where she intently studied the young man in front of her, she spoke up, 'If you wish it, you can have your parents' remains moved to the family graveyard later on. Nobody can stop you from doing that.'

Harry considered this suggestion. The notion of moving his parents' remains hadn't occurred to him until now. He could do it. He could also put in a marker for Sirius while he was at it. Perhaps, he could bury Sirius' old clothes and the like in place of the body. That would sort of reunite them. Harry could see it now: a large gravestone with his parents' names as the remains of the three of them lay side by side. 'Thanks,' he finally said as he smiled at the old woman. 'I think I might like that.'

Lady Longbottom smiled back, 'Now I do believe that your parents' graves are located a bit further in. So if you will follow me...' With that she set off again, the boys following in her wake.

They stopped a few feet farther as Lady Longbottom squinted around, her lit wand held aloft. 'I think we may need to split up. It has been quite a while since I last came here. And the light and snow aren't helping.'

With that, she set off walking ahead as Harry and Neville headed off in opposite directions. As Harry walked among the tombstones peering at each and every one for his parents' names, he stumbled upon a headstone with the words Kendra Dumbledore written on it and, a short way below her dates of birth and death, and her Daughter Ariana.

Harry read the quotation written below it with unseeing eyes. He could not help thinking that he and Dumbledore both had deep roots in this graveyard. From the dates written there, it was easy to deduce that Kendra was the headmaster's mother making Ariana his sister. He had a connexion of sorts to Dumbledore. They could have visited the place together; for a moment Harry imagined coming here with Dumbledore, of what a bond that would have been, of how much it would have meant to him. But it seemed that to Dumbledore, the fact that their families lay side by side in the same graveyard had been an unimportant coincidence, even irrelevant. Even if that wasn't the case, was it not Dumbledore's duty to at least take him here? He was Harry's guardian for Merlin's sake!

He was brought out of his musings by Neville calling him. 'Yeah?' he said as he approached the blond boy who had bent back down to examine the stone.

'I think that this is one of your ancestors, Harry.' Neville said as he brushed the snow off the ancient looking headstone. 'I really can't tell with the light.'

'Allow me,' said Lady Longbottom, who had also heard Neville and had come over. She raised her lit wand over the mossy headstone. 'No it's not Potter.' she finally said, squinting at the name. Making an irritated sound she waved her wand making the lichen vanish, revealing the name. 'Ignotus Peverell ... If I am not mistaken, the last Peverell married a Potter in the sixteen hundreds. The family has been long since extinct.'

They spent a moment looking at the marker before setting off again in search of James and Lily Potter's gravesite, Harry slowly made his way to the gravesite of Dumbledore's family, looking at the headstones along the way. Every now and then, he came across a surname that he recognised, having heard of them at Hogwarts.

And then he finally found it. The headstone was only a few rows behind Kendra and Ariana's. It was made of white marble which made it easy to read as the tombstone seemed to shine in the dark highlighting the words engraved in it.

Not caring that he had come with two other people who were at this moment searching the graveyard for the very thing he had now found, Harry read the words on the tombstone slowly, as though he would have only one chance to take in their meaning, and he read the last of them aloud.

'"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death"…' He frowned at this sentence. What did that sentence mean, anyway? The only way to defeat death is to live, and they were not living. They were gone. The empty words could not disguise the fact that his parents' mouldering remains lay beneath snow and stone, indifferent, unknowing. And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face; and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

A small noise behind him alerted Harry of the presence of the Longbottoms, who he noticed were standing a bit away, giving him his privacy. Taking deep breaths of air, Harry slowly regained his composure. Surreptitiously wiping his eyes, he took a step back, wishing that he had at least had the foresight to bring something with him to put on their graves.

Before Harry could turn, Lady Longbottom stepped forward and waving her wand, placed a wreath of roses on the grave.

Nodding at her, Harry turned around and, with the Longbottoms, started making his way back to the kissing gate. For some reason, he couldn't stand another minute there.

As they exited the graveyard, Harry turned to the old woman. 'Lady Longbottom is ... is it alright if we could see the house where ... it happened?'

'Of course we can, young man, there is no need to ask,' the woman answered briskly, patting the teen's shoulder. 'I was planning on taking you there anyway, if you were up to it of course.' Seeing Harry nod, she continued, 'Well then, this way if you please.'

Harry and Neville followed Lady Longbottom past the pub, which was fuller than before and down a dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which they had entered. Harry could make out the point where the cottages ended and the lane turned into open country again. With minute waves of her wand, Lady Longbottom cleared the path in front of them of the impacted snow making the path less slippery. Finally Harry saw it; at the very end of this row of houses, there was a dark mass. Harry sped up, overtaking Lady Longbottom as he approached the place where his family had been torn apart and his world had changed forever.

The Fidelius Charm had died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the fifteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harry was sure, was where the curse had backfired. He stood at the gate, gazing up at the wreck of what must once have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

From the folder from Gringotts, Harry knew that while he owned the property, it was in name only, as the house had been converted into a monument to his parents by The Historic Building and Monuments Commission for Magical Britain upon the consent of Albus Dumbledore. The Commission had decided to leave the building in its current state as a tribute to the Potters. Normally Harry would not have liked this, but he knew for a fact that the house had been a seventeenth birthday gift from his paternal grandfather to James Potter. His parents had lived there for a total of three years, and he had lived there for one year he barely remembered. So realistically, the house had no connexion to Harry other than it being the place where his parents had died leaving him the sole survivor. It might as well have been a hotel room or a rented cottage for all Harry cared. The Commission had taken care to remove and store all personal items found in the house in the family vault, making the house that much less personal. Of course, even if Harry wanted the house, he really couldn't do much anyway as the site had been given by his magical guardian legally. To get it back would involve time, money and effort that, as his account manager had told him, could probably be used to build another house just like it.

The small percentage that Harry received from the admission charges for the tours (which were open from spring to autumn) as the owner of the property, tax free, did help any lingering feelings of discontent he might have felt. So when he looked at the whole thing logically, the property was more useful as a monument than a privately owned house.

He grasped the snowy and thickly rusted gate, not wishing to open it, but simply to hold some part of the house. At his touch, a sign rose out of the ground in front of him and the Longbottoms who had finally caught up with him, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1988, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.

And all around these neatly lettered words scribbles and various other magical graffiti had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where the Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. Reading some of them, Harry could not help but be touched by the support that the common witch and wizard showed him. This was proof that the public at large did not blindly believe The Prophet. Harry could see that some of the messages were about a year old.

'Would you like to step inside?' Lady Longbottom asked from behind Harry.

Harry looked at the house for a moment before replying, 'Sure.' He opened the gate. As he was the owner, albeit in name only, the wards surrounding the place recognised him and his companions as he walked in.

Navigating up the path that was now surrounded by overgrown weeds, Harry led the Longbottoms through the doorway; the door itself was no longer there, having been blasted off.

As Harry walked around the house, he was besieged with strange feelings of familiarity, as if this place held memories that he never knew he had only to be brought to the forefront upon seeing the actual location, but nothing more than that. While he did have some memories of his time as a baby, thanks to organising his mind, they were hazy at best. All he could remember of that time was swatches of colour, snippets of sound and vague feelings that were the basics; mainly hunger, sleepiness, happiness and sadness. There were no clear memories of his one year here.

He did manage to recollect his parent's voices though. So he wasn't too disappointed.

They stood for a moment in the nursery where Harry had survived the Killing Curse, observing the room as the wind and snow fought with the wards to be let inside through the remains of the roof. It looked like a bomb site; every surface of the room was blackened. The only area that was relatively untouched was a small cot which was miraculously intact and still standing. Harry guessed that this was where he was when the curse had hit him. The small brass plaque placed on outside of the crib may have helped him make that guess.

As they exited the house and closed the gate, they spied a solitary figure slowly making her way toward them. Immediately, they tensed as Lady Longbottom and Neville brought their wands to bear. Harry also stayed a bit to the side and behind, sorely wishing he had his wand. So far he had only been able to perform the summoning charm, the banishing charm and the shield charm. Hopefully, if it came down to a fight, the assailant wouldn't be expecting a wandless banishing charm. With the slippery ground, it would prove to be quite an advantage.

Squinting in the darkness, Lady Longbottom's eyes widened as she relaxed. Lowering her wand, she waved to the figure calling out, 'Bathilda?! It's been far too long! How are you?'

The figure, an ancient woman, stopped and then after a moment shuffled towards the group which was now headed towards her led by Lady Longbottom.

'Yes?' the old woman asked in a soft voice as her face, so lined with age that it looked cobwebbed looked up, confusion showing in the eyes.

'It's Augusta,' said Neville's Gran.

The eyes lit up in recognition. 'Augusta?! Oh my, it really has been too long! How are you?' the woman's face broke out into a smile. 'Would you like to come in for tea?' she asked expectantly.

'Of course, here let Neville help you with that,' said Lady Longbottom as she gestured at the bags of groceries the old woman was carrying which Neville immediately took, handing one to Harry.

Bathilda's house, although clean, had the distinct odour of old age, something Harry noticed as the tiny old woman, stooped with age, opened the door to let them in.

'Sit down, sit down,' the old woman said in a quivering voice as she waved a wand just as ancient looking as she was, lighting the candles. She took a seat on one of the sofas near the fireplace with a grunt, as she removed the scarf around her neck. Once she was comfortable, she cast a curious eye at the two boys who had joined her in the drawing room after placing the bags on the kitchen counter.

'This is my grandson, Neville, and this is his friend, Harry Potter,' said Augusta Longbottom, speaking slowly to the aged woman. 'Boys, this is Bathilda Bagshot.'

'Frank's boy, eh?' the old woman said as she peered at Neville. 'You look a lot like him. It is nice to meet you finally.' She then focused on Harry. 'And is that little Harry?' she asked with a smile on her face. 'My dear boy, you have grown so much! Come over here so I can have a look at you.' She patted the space next to her.

Harry tentatively walked over to the old woman and sat next to her. Bathilda Bagshot reached out an old, wrinkled hand and cupped his face, peering at him intently. 'Oh little Harry,' she said again with a soft chuckle and a fond smile, patting his cheek. 'You were so tiny the last time I saw you! I still remember how you used to run around in the front garden wearing only your nappies as your mother chased you around trying to get you dressed! You had quite the talent in removing your clothes you know ... Lily always told me that you never did like wearing them much.' She said serenely, completely ignoring the burning face of the teen next to her. 'Why if it weren't for the childproof charms built into your nappies, I think you would have been running around completely starkers.'

'So you knew my mum then?' Harry said trying to change the subject as he fought off the blush on his face. Catching the smirk on Neville's face, he sent the other boy an evil glare.

'Oh definitely, dear,' said Bathilda. 'Why I remember that one time when she went spare when you got that training broom for your first birthday. You were quite a natural. Smashed a vase and nearly killed your mum's cat! Though your father thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen!'

Harry chuckled at this. That explained the vague memory of feeling the wind in his face and the sound of his mother chasing him around as his father was laughing his head off. As he tried to imagine the day, he felt a slight prickling behind his eyes. It was hard to imagine that there was a time when he was happy and had a happy family.

'Oh where are my manners?' Bathilda said rhetorically, 'I suspect you all would like some tea?' she asked her guests. 'Of course you would, who wouldn't in this weather? Here, let me-' she began as she started to heave herself out of the sofa.

'Now, now, Bathilda, there is no need for that.' said Lady Longbottom firmly. 'We do have two young, able-bodied men here. I think they would be more than happy to fix tea for us, wouldn't you, boys?' she asked the two of them. 'Good,' she said without waiting for a response.

Five minutes later, they were all sitting in living room sipping tea with Harry next to Bathilda and opposite Lady Longbottom and Neville. Harry listened idly as the two older women reminisced about days gone by. He still had trouble believing that he was sitting next to the Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic.

'Um, Professor Bagshot, if you don't mind me asking, who is that in those pictures?' Harry said when it was just the three of them. Lady Longbottom had gone upstairs to freshen up. He had been looking around and had seen a golden-haired, merry faced young man featured in quite a few of the photographs placed on the nearby chest of drawers, especially in the largest and most ornately framed ones.

'Hmm? Please call me Bathilda, dear. I will have none of that Professor Bagshot nonsense. I am so old now that would be the only thing people will be calling me. One does like to hear one's first name now and again. Otherwise, I am afraid I might forget it!' the woman said with another soft chuckle. Turning around, she peered at the chest of drawers where the pictures were kept. With a sad smile she said, 'That is my great – nephew, Gellert.' She wiped some dust off the large photo of the merry-faced young man which Harry had obligingly summoned wandlessly from the chest of drawers and given her. Curious, Neville came over to the sofa to stand behind the old woman.

'Oh,' said Harry. Judging from the tone, he assumed that this Gellert person was dead. 'I'm sorry for your loss.'

'What? Oh dear, no, he isn't dead,' said Bathilda looking up at Harry. 'He's ... been sent away.'

'Sent away?'

'Yes,' the old woman said slowly. 'He's in prison, you see. And it's all because of him.' She spat with sudden venom as she pointed at the image of a person next to Gellert.

Harry studied Gellert's companion; like Gellert, he was also smiling and waving jauntily up at the two of them. He was tall and thin with longish auburn hair and a long straight nose. Harry was sure he had seen this individual somewhere before.

'Him and his nonsense!' the old woman ranted softly, unmindful of her audience. 'Turned Gellert's head, he did! Why, Gellert was such a sweet boy before he met him! Gellert was in love with him. And He turned Gellert's head with delusions of power and grandeur. Now Gellert is in prison and He got away scot free! If I ever meet him again, it won't be too soon!' Her voice trailed off as she began muttering under her breath. Harry managed to pick up a few words like 'ungrateful swine,' and 'after all I did for him and his sister.'

'Um, who are you talking about, er, Bathilda?' Neville asked, slightly unnerved by the venom in the old woman's voice.

'Albus, Albus Dumbledore,' said Bathilda softly, giving the ginger teenager a sour look.

Harry did a double take at the name. 'Wha-' he said, the word trailing off as he looked at Bathilda incredulously as Neville sucked in a breath. Both boys had trouble processing the information given to them. While Harry knew that Dumbledore was manipulative, he doubted that Dumbledore would be so bad as to cause another person to go to prison!

And yet, here was Bathilda saying that Dumbledore had been the cause of her gay nephew going to prison.

This raised another point, 'Dumbledore is a poof?' Neville half-asked, half-exclaimed out loud, echoing Harry's thoughts. Harry wasn't exactly revolted about this, but he couldn't help but think it a bit weird. Though he supposed he should have seen it coming. It did explain the rather ... flamboyant nature of the headmaster. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Harry looked at Bathilda who he noticed was off in her own world, still glowering at the teenage image of his headmaster who was jauntily waving back at her. Harry noticed a superior look in the teenage Dumbledore that wasn't there in the present Dumbledore.

Clearing his throat Harry spoke up, 'What did Gellert do to land up in Azkaban?'

'Oh, Gellert isn't in Azkaban,' the old lady answered. 'He is in Nurmengard.'

'Where is-'

'Well, I am sorry to cut this short, Bathilda, but we must be off,' Augusta Longbottom's voice came suddenly, cutting Harry off and making both boys jump slightly as she came down the stairs. Stopping at the scene in front of her, she raised an eyebrow, 'Did I interrupt something?'

'Oh that is too bad,' said Bathilda in a cheerful voice, she seemed to have forgotten the conversation she and the boys were having. 'Please feel free to drop in any time. It does get lonely here at times ... especially when Herbert and the children aren't around.'

Having no choice, Harry and Neville also said their goodbyes and left the house, burning with curiosity. At the very least they had the name of the prison to go with. Perhaps they could find out who this Gellert is.

Harry and Neville didn't discuss what the old woman had said to them, as they did not want to involve Neville's Gran into this. That meant that both of them kept quiet about what the celebrated historian had told them. When Neville's Gran had retired for the night, the two of them went to the library where they had decided to meet by unspoken consent.

'Do you know what she was talking about,' Harry asked Neville.

'I'm not too sure,' said Neville. 'I have heard about the place before.' Saying this, he walked over to the history section in the library, running his hands over the spines of the books there.

'I think I read about the name in this book...' he said as he removed a copy of Modern European Magical History which was fittingly enough, written by Bathilda Bagshot herself. Neville muttered to himself as he flipped through the pages.

'Aha, here it is!' said Neville as he stopped at a page. 'Here listen to this "... It was during this turbulent time that Nurmengard was formed in Magical Germany. Initially used to hold dissenters and political enemies, the fortress was also a stronghold of its creator, the dark lord Grindelwald..." '

'Sounds like Gellert was one of Grindelwald's enemies,' Harry commented as Neville turned the page.

'"However, after Grindelwald's defeat in 1945, the fortress was ransacked by the forces of the Light and all its prisoners were liberated."' Neville continued reading aloud. '"Taking possession of the fortress, the Light shortly had it decommissioned, destroying the main building and leaving the rest which included the walls and the heavily fortified prison tower which they then used to imprison the captured officers of the Dark Lord's army along with their ringleader-"' Neville paled as he finished the sentence, '"Gellert Grindelwald himself."'

'What?!' Harry exclaimed incredulously.

'Gellert Grindelwald,' said Neville in a trance. 'Bathilda's great – nephew was Gellert Bloody Grindelwald.' He whistled, 'Sweet Merlin.'

'And let's not forget that Dumbledore was the one to put Grindelwald there.' Harry said. 'He is famed for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald, remember?' he said, quoting the information he remembered from the chocolate frog card.

Both boys sat at the table in silence thinking of the ramifications. Neville was the first to break the silence. 'Do you think Dumbledore is a Dark Lord in secret?' he looked around the room nervously as if he was expecting the wizard to come out and curse them for saying it.

Harry was silent for a moment as his mind came to conclusions and formulated theories so fast that his conscience had problems forming a coherent thought. Rubbing his head he finally said, 'The evidence really does seem to fit that theory, but the concept of him being an actual Dark Lord is too...'

'Scary?' Neville finished the sentence.

'Yeah,'

'We could be just jumping to conclusions,' said Neville. 'After all, it isn't as if he has any plans of world domination or anything.'

'Oh, no?' replied Harry, voicing one of the theories he had come up with. 'Who is the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot? Dumbledore. Who is the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards? Dumbledore. Who is the one person who everyone wanted to be Minister of Magic when Bagnold retired? Dumbledore. And who was the one person who Fudge used to listen to when he became Minister?' Harry paused as he affected a look of deep thought, 'Oh I know, Dumbledore! When Fudge stopped listening to him, he lasted for a year, a year! Fuck that, he's the bleeding Headmaster of our school! He educates, or has educated almost everyone in Wizarding Britain! I'd say he has "world domination" covered! At least as far as British magical society is concerned.' He covered his eyes with his hand. 'The only person more powerful than him is the Minister, and even that is up for debate!'

'And he defeated Grindelwald who turned out to be his lover which made him really famous all over Europe,' finished Neville.

They sat in silence for a moment.

'I really don't like this,' said Harry. While he knew that Dumbledore was a conniving, manipulative, backstabbing old man, he didn't think of the old headmaster as an evil Dark Lord. The thought was frankly unsettling.

'Me neither,' Neville replied.

'I vote that we forget about this and never speak of this again.'

'Seconded, Bathilda does sound like she has been listening to a few fwoopers anyway. She probably had no idea what she was talking about.'

Even though Harry fervently nodded and agreed wholeheartedly, he couldn't help the little niggle of doubt that had lodged itself in his brain as he went to sleep.

The next day at breakfast, two letters appeared on a tray next to Harry's plate. Wondering who it was that had written to him, seeing as he had written to his friends and Daphne the day before and wasn't expecting any replies yet (he had not mentioned the visit or the incident), he opened the letter on the top. As he read through it, he gave out an exclamation of surprise.

'Finally, my wand's ready!'

'Excellent,' said Lady Longbottom. 'We shall retrieve it in the afternoon. I was planning on heading to Diagon then initially to get a few supplies, anyway. You can accompany me to get your wand.'

'Thank you, ma'am,' said Harry.

'Neville, I expect you would like to accompany us?' Lady Longbottom asked, giving her grandson an inquiring look.

'Yes, Gran,'

Nodding, the woman returned to her breakfast. Harry then reached for the other letter. Without bothering to look at the envelope, he slit it open and brought out the contents. As he read the letter, his eyebrows steadily rose higher and higher until he had a slightly gobsmacked expression on his face. Putting the letter down with a soft, 'huh,' he looked at his plate as he mulled the contents of the letter over in his head.

'What's the matter?' Neville asked upon noticing the odd expression on his friend's face.

'Hm?' said Harry distracted. Looking up he said, 'Oh, yeah ... uh, you remember what I told you about my meeting with the Queen, right?' seeing his friend nod, Harry continued, 'Well, I just got a letter from her ...' he paused for a moment as he stared at the letter. 'Come St George's day, I will have the right to add the letters KG to my name!' he grinned as he looked at his friend.

Neville looked at Harry for a moment before the Knut dropped. Widening his eyes, he grinned back at his friend and said, 'Wow, congratulations, Harry! Or is it "Sir Harry" now?'

'It won't be till June, actually,' said Harry reading through the letter again. 'That's when the installation happens. And speaking of which,' he turned to Lady Longbottom. 'When will new members of the Wizengamot be installed, ma'am?'

'On the first Monday of August, why do you ask?' The old woman replied.

'Well, because I had given some documents to Her Majesty proving my claim to the title of the Earl of Grantabrycge. Apparently the title is rather out of date as Grantabrycge is modern-day Cambridge. As there cannot be an Earl and a Duke of the same place, she has decided to attach the title of Earl to the family name that held it initially.'

'Yes, that is standard practice now,' said Augusta Longbottom. 'All of the Magical noble houses have had the same change done to them as the place-names were given to the Muggle noble families. I can tell you that most of the Magical families weren't too happy about losing their place-names. After all quite a number of the old families are older than the Muggle noble lines. And some even lost their place-name to newly ennobled Muggles.'

'But why?' asked Harry. 'After all, we had the titles first!'

'It was mainly because of the Statue of Secrecy,' replied Neville. 'We can't really hold titles to Muggle lands. Otherwise the Muggles might get suspicious. It was part of the deal with King William III and Queen Mary II when we finally separated fully from Muggle Britain, in Sixteen Ninety Two, I believe. The King or Queen was to have authority over the Magical world. Our Minister of Magic is appointed by the monarch. And also another interesting thing to note is that the document that the Muggle barons managed to get the King to sign is not valid in the Magical world. It is all covered in the History of Magic N.E.W.T. classes, if you are interested.'

'You are in the class?' Harry asked slightly incredulously.

'Yeah, Binns might be more boring than a Flobberworm, but I find the subject material to be interesting enough. Especially now, in the Sixth and Seventh years, where we study more recent events, you're going to be mentioned next year! Anyway, the point is that the sovereign's power is not limited as it is in the Muggle world. Of course, since there hasn't been a Magical King or Queen of Britain since forever, that isn't much of a problem. But, at the same time, nobody really wants to find out what happens if the Monarch does decide to actively exercise regnal power, so we generally get along with whatever is decreed. Which frankly isn't much since the Magical world has, so far, garnered little to no royal interest.'

'But why didn't our ancestors just decide to hide from the Muggles? Why have such a deal in the first place? I think we would have been more than capable of pulling such a thing off without help from the Muggles...' said Harry.

'The actual reason isn't well-known, Harry,' said Lady Longbottom. 'No records of that time have survived. Which is suspicious, since nothing has happened to cause said records to be destroyed and documents older than that are still in good condition,' she paused to gather her thoughts before speaking again. 'The general consensus is that this deal was made because of the Muggleborns. Mind you, it is the only theory around, so it isn't necessarily the correct theory. The long and short of it is that with the possible exception of the title of the Duke of Hogsmeade, the Duke of Azkaban and the Marquess of Diagon, all other members of nobility do not have place-names. Now' she continued briskly. 'We have digressed enough, coming back to the original point, what is the new title that you now have, Harry?'

'The Earl Slytherin,' replied Harry succinctly.

Neville, who was drinking from a goblet of pumpkin juice, choked as he heard Harry's words while the only indication Augusta Longbottom showed of her surprise was a slight widening of her eyes.

'Indeed?' she said absently waving her wand to relieve her grandson's discomfort.

'Before you ask, I have no idea how I have ended up with a claim to the title,' said Harry. 'All I know is that it is mine. I have some relation to a descendant of Slytherin.'

'Interesting,' said Lady Longbottom as she fixed him with a calculating look.

A few hours later found Harry standing outside Ollivander's shop with his hood drawn up. Lady Longbottom and Neville had gone to Flourish and Blotts and were supposed to join him later.

Entering, he was greeted by an excited-looking Ollivander.

'Ah, Lord Potter, I have been expecting you! I cannot wait to show you your improved wand.'

Used to having Ollivander call him by his title ever since he let slip that he was emancipated, Harry only nodded as he let his anticipation build up. He also couldn't wait to see his newly modified wand.

Ollivander disappeared into his shop, only to return with a beautiful black box which he handed to Harry.

Opening the box, Harry beheld his wand. At first glance, other than an increase in length and a slight increase in girth, the wand did not look any different. Looking at it closely, however, he noticed two thin strips of white spiralling out in a double helix from the handle and fusing at the tip which he noticed was now sharper than before. The band wasn't fully noticeable as it blended well with the natural white colour of the wood.

'I powdered a section of the fang and combined it with the original phoenix feather core using a mixture of the phoenix tears and basilisk venom which you had also supplied me with when you handed in your wand.' Ollivander explained as Harry silently admired the wand in front of him. 'The remainder was carved into the handle and the double helical shape you see now. The tip is the tip of the basilisk fang sanded down a bit to make it safe to use (after all, it's a wand not a dagger) and placed over the tip of the original wand. I must say I am very proud of the wand. I hope you like it.'

'It's beautiful,' whispered Harry as he ran a finger along one of the strands on the body of the wand, feeling the cool ivory which was a shade whiter than the holly wood it was fused with. Upon touching the wand, he felt the stirrings of the familiar warmth surging through his fingers. The feeling was very similar to the time when he first bought the wand five years ago.

Unable to resist any further, he picked up the wand and grasped it in his left hand, breathing in deeply as he felt the warmth surge through him.

The feeling was both familiar and different. With the comfortable warmth came a coolness that was just as comfortable and calming. He also felt more connected with his wand than before.

A discrete cough broke him out of the bliss he was in. Opening eyes he had not realised he had closed Harry looked at a smiling Ollivander. 'I am glad that you like it, milord, as bone and tooth is something I rarely work with. Anyway, I have carved in some Unbreakable Runes into the ivory for the wand as well as some Runes on the handle to improve grip.' He pointed the runes, which were not easily noticeable, out to Harry. 'Tooth and bone is a bit more receptive to Runic Magic than wood. Unfortunately, the wand isn't as supple as it was before the modifications.' He sighed, a trifle disappointed. 'But that cannot be helped, I'm afraid.'

'Thank you very much, Mr Ollivander!' Harry said gratefully with a smile just as ecstatic as Ollivander's. 'You truly are the best wandmaker in Britain, if not the whole world.' As he had done before when he had first bought his wand, Harry swished his new wand through the air. Looking at the multitude of sparks that trailed after, he knew that casting a spell would require less effort than before, not that it required much effort on his part then.

'I think you overstate my abilities,' Ollivander demurred in response. 'But thank you all the same. As for the wand, it was my pleasure, Lord Potter. Crafting wands is my passion, and to have the opportunity to work with such a rare item as basilisk fang and venom is a privilege.'

Placing his wand in its sheath, Harry thanked Ollivander once more as the man bowed him out of his shop.

Well, here you go! I know, it's been an age, but things happen ...

23. Clarity

Bones Manor was to be found in Cornwall a few miles away from the town of Falmouth. Situated in an isolated area and surrounded on all sides by the English countryside, the recently rebuilt large Elizabethan house was once full of members of the Bones family. However, in his first bid for domination, Voldemort decided to make an example of the family. As a consequence, twenty three of twenty six members of the family and all of the family house-elves were slaughtered in one night. The survivors, William, his wife, Sophia and his cousin, Amelia were alive only because they weren't around when it happened.

Devastated, the surviving members hid themselves away in Muggle Britain in a house bought through William's Muggle in-laws which they then placed under a bevy of wards.

Once Voldemort was vanquished and his Death Eaters captured or killed, William had set about renovating the ancestral manor. As a precaution, he also upgraded the previous wards (which were quite frankly, pathetic) adding in a secrecy charm which, while not as powerful as the Fidelius, was good enough to ensure that future invaders would have a hard time searching for the place.

As soon as the work on the house was done, William, Sophia and their daughter, Susan moved into the manor. His cousin, on the other hand, was still attached to her townhouse in Bradford and had opted to stay there.

However now with her election to the position of Minister, Amelia Bones decided that it would be in her best interest if she were to place herself under the family wards and added security of the ancestral house. While not as secure as the Minister for Magic's official residence, living there made it possible for Amelia to spend more time with her brother, sister-in-law and niece.

And so, it was in Bones Manor and not the Minister's official residence (located in a hidden building right in front of the Visitor's entrance to the Ministry of Magic) that the annual Ministry New Year's party was held.

Harry tugged a bit at his new dress robes as he observed his surroundings. The New Year's party was definitely different from the ball held in Longbottom Manor. For one, it was more relaxed with a small amount of formality present. The politicking that was prevalent in the Longbottom ball was muted here, with the party-goers mingling with each other with carefree abandon, the conversation light. The dance floor also saw more people on it with the music a lot livelier.

In short, it was a slightly more sober version of the Yule Ball held in Hogwarts two years back. Of course, that didn't make it boring courtesy of the Italian female flair bartender who was as talented at mixing drinks as she was hot.

Drinks in hand, Harry made his way back to his intended. 'Where's Neville?' he asked, looking around for the boy. Harry wanted the blond to get a drink if only to see the same he had seen.

'He's with Susan,' replied Ernie. 'So I see you got drinks,' he smirked at Harry as he nodded to the glasses in Harry's hand. 'I would love to just hang out there and watch as she makes more. It's a pity that I'm not allowed to drink yet.' He looked in the direction of the bar morosely.

'Well, she does make non-alcoholic beverages, if you want.' Harry replied. He held up his glass and continued, 'I don't really know what it is, but it looks interesting.' He took a sip, 'Tastes good too.'

'What I don't understand is why you are sticking to the non-alcoholic stuff, I mean, surely now you can drink since you are emancipated and everything?' Anthony interjected.

'Oh yeah, you can, can't you? In fact, I bet you could get us all drinks!' Ernie spoke up with a look of dawning realisation on his face, inadvertently interrupting Harry from informing them that the drink in his hand was in fact alcoholic. Michael Corner and Terry Boot who were seated at the same table perked up at Ernie's words. Soon Harry was faced with the anticipatory expressions of four boys.

'Oh don't be daft,' said Daphne coming to Harry's rescue. 'Harry would have a hard time doing that as I am pretty sure that the bartender will become suspicious if he were to ask for five drinks in a row.'

'The lady makes a good point.' Terry said grudgingly as the other boys groaned. 'But still, watching her make drinks would be fun. Too bad Harry here can't watch seeing as he is about to be married.'

Harry was not surprised to hear Terry say this as he suspected that by now his status and the contract would have been an open secret to anyone who had a family member in the Ministry of Magic. Smiling at Terry, he replied easily, 'I'm about to be married, Boot, not lose my eyesight. And while I do not deny that the woman has a lot of talent, not only is she really old, but her beauty pales in comparison to the fine specimen sitting here next to me.'

His comeback had the boys laughing and the girls rolling their eyes as Daphne blushed.

'To the soon-to-be-married couple then,' said Ernie ceremoniously as he held up his glass of Butterbeer.

After they set their glasses down, Daphne touched Harry's arm, 'Harry, could we go outside please? I want some fresh air.'

'Sure,' said Harry as he got up and followed Daphne.

Making their way out of the manor, the couple strode along the snow laden garden. Harry tentatively reached a hand out and was pleasantly surprised when she grabbed it and put his arm around her shoulders, leaning her head on his shoulders as they slowly meandered through the winding path.

It took them a while, but they soon were huddled against each other in the second private spot they could find (as the first one was already occupied by a very busy Neville and Susan).

'Your wand looks different,' said Daphne idly as Harry put the aforementioned instrument back in its sheath after casting a warming charm on the both of them.

'I had it modified,' Harry explained as he leant back. Drawing the wand out again, he cast the self-named Patronus Light Charm on his right hand to provide better light.

'Wow,' said Daphne as she looked at the silvery heatless flames on his hand. 'That's beautiful! How did you do that?'

Harry smirked, 'What this little thing? It's not much ... I can teach you how to cast it now if you want.'

'Well ...' said Daphne in a trance, looking at the flames dancing on Harry's palm. 'I ... that is to say, I cannot ... not now ...' she snapped out of her daze. Looking at Harry she continued in a clearer voice. 'Can we postpone this for another time? Perhaps when school starts again? I think I can wait three days. Right now, I just want ... to talk ...'

'Um, sure,' said Harry wondering what it was. He had a feeling that she wanted to speak to him about something in private, but he didn't think that she would get to the point so soon. Underneath her cold exterior, Daphne, he found, was pretty reserved and not very comfortable talking to other people. It also took her awhile to warm up to a person. Deciding to try something new, he conjured a jar in which he deposited the flames.

'That works! ... Didn't think it would...' he muttered to himself. Turning to Daphne, he looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to speak.

Daphne stared into the distance, thinking about the past few months. Ever since she had found out about the marriage contract, things had been confused. She had known of the existence of the contract, of course, but neither she nor her parents had imagined that it would need fulfilling. After all, the only male Black was Sirius Black, and when he was alive, he was a criminal, a person living outside the law. It was both a relief and sad to find out about his posthumous exoneration. Sad, because not only did the man never get a taste for freedom, but also because the Black name, after so many centuries, had ended with his death. It was also a relief because that terrible and ill thought out contract would never need fulfilling.

So it was a shock to the family when they found out that not only was there someone who was head of House Black, but also that the contract was still valid and now included this new Lord Black. The initial suspects had been either an ancient codger who had somehow managed to cling to life after so long, or Draco Malfoy, as he was the next male with the closest blood ties to Sirius Black.

None of these options were desirable to Daphne. Not that she was any happier when she found out that it was Potter.

Daphne's initial thoughts about Harry Potter were not charitable. From what she had heard about the boy, he seemed to be of the self-righteous, egoistical, holier-than-thou kind. In other words, a black haired, green eyed, Gryffindor version of Draco Malfoy.

Armed with this knowledge, she decided her course of action. From what other people said, when she stared at a person without any expression in her ice blue eyes which were even more noticeable thanks to her black hair, it intimidated them. So it was something she did with regularity as it did keep idiots away from her and also got her what she wanted, as far as her peers were concerned, that is. It did not work on her parents. Her close friend, Tracey Davis and her sister, Astoria had mentioned to her on separate occasions that she could be very assertive to the point of aggressive when she wanted to. They had never said that again after Daphne had told them very empathically that she was not like that at all (she might or might not have used the stare when saying that).

And so, it was a completely non-assertive Daphne Greengrass who decided to take over the first meeting with her future husband Harry Potter. She started off the meeting with a lovely speech about how much she did not appreciate being married off to him. It was a speech that she was particularly proud of as she had been working on it for two whole days and incorporated many jabs at the Gryffindor. So she was understandably not amused when the prick decided to break down and start laughing in the middle of the speech.

But that was when Harry Potter started changing her view of him. As soon as he had managed to get her to agree to something, even if it was the absurdity of calling him the "Gryffindor Golden Boy", Harry had swiftly taken control of the meeting. Daphne soon found out that he wasn't pompous and stuck up as Malfoy and most of the other Slytherins and quite a few of the Ravenclaws had made him out to be. He really was a nice person, almost, dare she say it, sweet. Although he was still a reckless idiot with subtlety on par with Hagrid, but that could be changed ... hopefully. So she really shouldn't have gone ahead with her initial plan. She really should have just left it at the warning that he change his ways or else. Because she really didn't want a husband who talked before he thought. Such boorishness was meant for the lower classes.

Daphne was a practical girl. She knew that there was no escaping that contract. She also did not expect any love to come out of this union. After all, she barely knew the boy, and what she knew of him wasn't great. And so, she decided that if she couldn't get the love bit, at least she could ensure that the sex bit was good. So it was with this idea that she had also told Potter to gain some experience in performing his marital duties. After all she might as well get some pleasure out of it.

But now, looking back at it, she had to concede that her initial decision was a bit rash. Harry was a really nice person. Not only that, but he seemed to have changed a lot this year. He no longer hung out exclusively with that ginger nitwit Weasley and that bossy little know-it-all Mudblood, choosing to expand his social circle instead. She was acquainted with the Ravenclaws in her year and did approve of them. The Hufflepuffs weren't too bad either. Indeed it was quite a surprise to hear that Blaise Zabini had started to approve of him.

By the beginning of the Winter Holidays, she knew that her feelings for the boy had changed.

It had taken her some time, but after the Longbottom Ball, she tracked down her mother and confessed everything. Her mother understood everything. 'When I was first betrothed to your father,' the older woman had said, 'I was initially unhappy. I thought that I would never love him, as we had never met before. Your father is two years older than me, as you know. And there I was, about to be married to him at twenty-one. But you know what? After spending a year as his wife, we started to slowly like each other. And that feeling soon turned into love. You are lucky that you have started loving your fiancé before you got married. If I could change the past, I would only wish that I had met your father in school before we were to be married. That would have given us more days to be together!' she smiled at her daughter. 'You made a decision based on what you knew, and you made it without getting all the facts straight. In other words, my dear daughter, you made a mistake. However, I don't think it is that bad a mistake. Both of you are so young. It is a good thing that one of you managed to test the waters as it were. Although, I wish it were you as well, my dear.' Her mother looked at her slightly disapprovingly. 'But now that you realise your feelings for him, I suggest that you make your intentions clear. Be brave daughter, just like the Gryffindor your soon-to-be husband is.'

And so it came down to this moment. Taking a deep breath, Daphne looked into her fiancé's vibrant green eyes and then, unable to hold his gaze for long, looked at the ground as she began to speak. 'When I first heard that I was getting married to you, I was initially unhappy. I thought that I wouldn't be happy with you. So I thought that it would be a good idea that at least if I couldn't have love, I could be happy having a good shag now and then. But then, I got to know you... And I don't think I can bear seeing you with all those girls now. I shouldn't have asked you to do that in the first place. I realise that now. Can you forgive me?'

'Forgive you for what?' Harry said softly.

Daphne felt her eyes prickle, 'For not accepting you as my future husband, and for implying that you weren't good enough for me.' She sniffed, dragging a sleeve across her eyes.

'Hey now,' said Harry putting an arm around her and bringing her close to his chest. He rubbed circles on her back hoping with all his might that she wouldn't start bawling like Cho Chang. 'Don't cry,' he said comfortingly while his mind was having a meltdown trying to figure out what to do. While he was far more confident than last year, he still had no idea about how he should go around comforting a crying girl. Especially when the said girl was as reserved and calm as Daphne, seeing her cry was pretty shocking. Scrambling for an answer, his mind finally came up with something.

'I cannot forgive you,' he finally said, causing Daphne to stiffen. 'After all, while you told me to gain experience, it didn't mean that I had to do what you said. I had a choice too, and I chose to go out with all those girls even though I knew that I was engaged to you. So, how can I forgive you when I myself was just as wrong?'

Daphne was silent for a moment before she tightened the grip her arms had around Harry as she choked out a small sob.

Harry grunted at the sudden increase in pressure. Laying his head on hers, he kissed the top of her head and said. 'At first, I will admit that I was happy to be given the opportunity to go out with so many girls, despite being engaged to you. But then after a while I realised one thing; all the girls I went out with paled in comparison to you. None of them were capable of making me laugh the way you do. And few still are capable of treating me as an equal. I don't really know if what I feel for you is love, but it certainly is something. Truth to be told, I was planning on bringing this subject up myself soon.'

After a moment, Daphne finally pulled away, embarrassed although she did not object to Harry's arm around her. Harry silently handed her a handkerchief he conjured with his wand, which she accepted with a grateful smile as she wiped away some of the dampness in her eyes. Looking at her through the ghostly light of the silvery fire, he couldn't help but think that she was beautiful. She wasn't pretty in the way he preferred (for one, Harry wished that she was a bit more busty), but she had a certain allure about her. Her svelte figure reminded him of a large cat and her ice blue eyes and clear, pale skin were a striking contrast to her black hair. But the one thing Harry appreciated the most about her was that she had her head screwed on straight. Her personality wasn't abrasive, although he did wish that she would talk more. Then again, it only encouraged him to listen to her more when she did speak up. Her tongue was as exceptionally sharp as her wit.

A major plus point was that she did not seem to be the human hosepipe that was a certain Ravenclaw he had gone out with last year.

As he gazed at the lit manor in the distance, Harry came to the conclusion that there definitely was a future for the two of them. That Daphne would be a good wife. It wasn't going to end up being boring that was for sure.

'How about we no longer speak about this little incident?'

'Deal,' said Harry. They lapsed into silence.

They were soon jolted out of their thoughts by cries of 'Happy New Year!' coming from within the manor along with the sound of fireworks going off.

Smiling, Harry turned to the witch next to him and pulled her closer. 'Happy New Year, Daphne,' he said before kissing her.

'Happy New Year, Harry,' Daphne replied with a smile after they broke apart. Snuggling against his chest, she watched the fireworks thinking that while Harry was still a brash and reckless idiot (even if he was less of a brash and reckless idiot than he was before) she wouldn't mind him being her brash and reckless idiot. He was pretty good looking too. She especially loved his eyes.

As the couple looked into the distance at the display in front of them marking the beginning of a new year, both of them were of the same thought that with the change in year came a change in their relationship.

'So ...' said Daphne minutes later as the last of the fireworks ended. 'Did you ever manage to gain some experience?'

With an enigmatic smile, Harry turned to her and said, 'I can't tell you that. You didn't want to talk about that after all.'

Standing in front of the fireplace in Longbottom Manor a few days later, Harry idly reflected that this had been the most interesting Winter Holidays he had had so far. Other than the incident at Sandringham House, the party at the Longbottoms' and the New Year's party at the Minister's residence, the rest of his time with the Longbottoms had been tranquil. So far, the Winter Holidays he had spent (and he did not count the years before Hogwarts) had been a noisy affair spent in the company of a lot of people, so it was definitely new for Harry to spend it in the type of quietness that comes from lazing about.

Harry didn't really know if he liked this experience or not. In the end, he just decided that it was different. Not good or bad.

'Thank you for having me over, er, Aunt Augusta.' Harry said as he turned to Neville's grandmother, still not used to calling her that. 'And thanks for, you know, everything else.'

Over the course of the holidays, Augusta Longbottom had warmed up to Harry and had insisted a few days after their trip to Godric's Hollow to call her such saying that it was the same thing her godson used to call her.

'It was my pleasure, Harry,' said Lady Longbottom. 'I hope that you will come over during the Summer Holidays or at least the next Winter Holidays?'

'Well, I am not too sure about summer, but I definitely know that I will not be coming over for the next Winter Holidays,' said Harry with a smile. 'Because by then, if everything goes according to schedule, I will be able to spend my first and last Winter Holidays from school in the fully renovated Potter Castle!'

'I see,' replied Lady Longbottom with a small smile of her own. 'In that case, I hope that things progress as planned.'

'Erm, this might sound a bit premature, but I was hoping that Neville could come over to my house for the Winter Holidays,' Harry said hesitantly looking at both grandson and grandmother. Seeing Augusta nod and Neville smile, Harry grinned. 'Excellent! Also, I was sort of hoping to have a New Year's party or a Yule ball or something to break the house in as it were. I was hoping you could help...' he looked at Augusta tentatively.

Augusta smiled at Harry and said, 'I will be glad to help. Let's talk about this in a few months time. Making plans now is a bit too early, especially in the present climate. As it is, I wasn't too sure that what I had planned would be possible till the very last minute. Anyway, Che Sara Sara, as the saying goes. We will take it as it comes.'

Nodding, Harry took a pinch of Floo powder and threw it in the fireplace. Bidding Neville's grandmother a final goodbye, he picked up his bag and stepped into the emerald fire and shouted 'McGonagall's office!' He caught one final glimpse of the drawing room and a smiling Lady Longbottom before the flames engulfed him; spinning very fast, he caught blurred glimpses of other Wizarding rooms, which were whipped out of sight before he could get a proper look; then he was slowing down, finally stopping squarely in the fireplace in Professor McGonagall's office. She barely glanced up from her work as he clambered out over the grate.

'Afternoon Professor,' said Harry cheerfully.

'Good evening, Potter,' said the Transfiguration teacher, acknowledging him with a minute nod. 'Do try not to get too much ash on the carpet.'

In response, Harry drew his wand out and with a sweep of his arm, vanished the smudges of ash that he assumed came from previous students.

In light of the current situation, the Ministry had authorised a one-time Floo connexion to Hogwarts from various wizarding homes so that students could get to school safely. Those students who didn't have a Floo connexion or a wizarding fireplace had the option of either using the fireplace at Gringotts for a nominal fee of five Knuts, or the one in the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, which was complimentary provided that they bought a product from the store and felt like risking Fred and George before stepping through.

'Thank you, Potter,' said McGonagall gratefully. 'A point to Gryffindor, it really is nice to see that common courtesy hasn't escaped all of today's youths.'

'It was no trouble, Professor,' replied Harry with a smile. Straightening his robes that were still immaculate due to the impervious charms placed on them, he waited for Neville to come through. The blonde wizard soon appeared in a flash of green fire tinged with blue. Seeing Harry's questioning look, Professor McGonagall explained, 'The fireplaces have been warded to detect any dark objects so that nothing untoward is brought in. Hence the blue glow.'

'What happens if someone does bring in something dark?'

'The wards will flare red, and the individual will be unable to step out of the fireplace until he is released by a teacher.' Professor McGonagall replied briskly. 'Now, unless you have anything else to ask, I suggest you two make yourself scarce. I do have work to do.'

'Oh, and Potter?' Hearing Professor McGonagall call him, Harry turned around at the doorway. Seeing her holding a roll of parchment out, he came forward to take it with an enquiring expression on his face. 'The announcement for the upcoming Apparation classes,' McGonagall explained. 'Do put it up on the notice board tomorrow morning.'

'Sure professor, first thing.' Taking the roll of parchment, Harry left her office with Neville.

Looking at the announcement in front of him, Harry began debating about what to do with the lessons. He had no idea that there would be classes for the sixth years! In fact he hadn't really given much thought to getting a licence for Apparation. Which considering his emancipated status was easily available to him.

'Put my name in, won't you?' Neville's voice broke into Harry's thoughts. 'We might as well get it done now and save ourselves the hassle of doing it with the others.'

'Good idea,' said Harry as he put the parchment up against the wall and taking Neville's self – inking quill wrote down both their names figuring that it would be a good idea to put his name down to avoid suspicion. He might have to hold back in the class though. 'It's good to be the captain!'

As they were about to turn into the corridor leading to the tower, they heard a loud grating noise that took them a moment to recognise as someone's voice singing at the top of their lungs, and doing it terribly.

'I'm forever blowing bubbles,

Pretty bubbles in the air,

They fly so high, nearly reach the sky,

Then like my dreams they fade and die-'

'Alright, alright I'll open, I'll open, just shut the hell up!'

'Hey, Dean!' said Harry as he spotted the boy who was standing outside the open entrance to the common room with a triumphant expression on his face.

'Harry, Neville, how was your holiday?'

'Great, what's with the singing?' said Neville as he and Harry reached the entrance.

At the question, Dean grinned broadly and said, 'Oh that, well, the Fat Lady wasn't opening, apparently the password's changed. So, since she wouldn't let me in and I wasn't about to wait to be let in, I told her that I didn't bloody know the password since I wasn't here and to let me in, but she wouldn't budge! Then I noticed that she was hung over, so I threatened to sing loudly till she let me in!' he smirked, 'I didn't even get to finish the first verse!'

Chortling, the three of them entered the common room.

'Oh, come on!' said Harry incredulously. For standing there, locked in a kind of vertical wrestling match were Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown.

'Well, they aren't doing anything too inappropriate,' said Neville warily as if ready to close his eyes at a moment's notice.

'Thank Merlin for small mercies,' said Harry sarcastically. He was interrupted by a squeal of 'Harry!' as Hermione came up to him.

'Hey Hermione, how was Christmas?'

'I think I'll be going now, see you later Harry!' said Neville. 'Hermione,' he said with a pleasant smile that Harry knew, thanks to being with his friend for the past week, was patently fake. After all it was the same smile he pasted on when talking to someone boring. 'Coming, Dean?' The blond boy said to Dean, the smile on his face turning genuine.

'Oh it was fine, didn't do too much. Anyway I have something for you Harry.' Hermione said as she handed him a roll of parchment.

'Another one of Dumbledore's lessons, I see,' said Harry softly as he opened the parchment and read the contents. Pocketing the letter, Harry looked up at Hermione who had an expectant look on her face. 'What?'

'Oh, nothing, Harry, how was your Christmas?'

Harry just lifted a shoulder as he casually said, 'Fine. Spent it at The Burrow, met Remus and Tonks, had some eggnog, listened to some boring old music ... nothing too special. Oh I was named godfather to Remus' unborn child! So I guess it was more special than what I said initially.'

Hermione, who looked to be on the verge of saying something, suddenly changed track as she closed her mouth before asking incredulously, 'They named you godfather?'

'Yeah, isn't that brilliant?' said Harry with a big smile. 'I guess that this makes me wise and all – knowing now...'

'Right,' said Hermione, giving Harry a disapproving look. 'So, is that all you did, Harry?' she folded her arms as she asked the question and looked up at him with an unreadable expression on her face.

'Uh, yeah,' Harry gave her a puzzled look.

'Nothing else?' seeing Harry nod at this, Hermione continued, 'Because Ginny told me that you weren't at The Burrow the whole time and that you left the Weasleys'.'

'Yes I did,' said Harry.

'So why didn't you tell me that?' Hermione fairly exploded.

'Because you didn't ask,' said Harry in a neutral tone, trying not to let the annoyance show in his voice. 'I believe your question was "how was my Christmas." I left for Longbottom Manor after Christmas. Thus that bit of information did not come under the purview of the question you asked me.'

With a smug grin on his face, he left Hermione standing there spluttering as he headed towards the sixth year dorm.

'Oh, and Hermione, do be a dear and supervise Won-Won and his girlfriend. We don't want another repeat of hormones getting the better of people, now do we?' With that parting shot, Harry disappeared up the boys' staircase.

The next day, Harry and Neville walked outside onto the grounds surprised to find that Susan was waiting for them alone without Hannah

'Where's Hannah?' Neville asked as he looked around.

'She can't come because her dad pulled her out of school,' Susan said sadly.

'What?' Harry asked in shock. 'But I thought that she had managed to convince her father to let her stay after her mother was murdered by the Death Eaters?'

'Apparently he changed his mind,' said Susan between puffs as they started jogging. 'Not that I blame him. Hannah was pretty down most of the time she was here even though she hid it from the rest of the world.'

Saying nothing, the teenagers finished their morning routine and then headed back to their respective dormitories.

As soon as Harry finished with his bath, he walked back down to the common room with the roll of parchment in his hand announcing the upcoming Apparation classes. It wasn't the first thing in the morning, but Harry felt that it was close enough. After all, the common room was still empty.

The Apparation classes were the only thing the other sixth years could talk about. And after word got out that Harry had been taken by someone via Side-Along-Apparition (thanks to a certain ginger), the teen soon found himself inundated by questions from the other sixth-years asking about how it felt.

'Well, you feel this squeezing sensation as if you are being forced through a tube,' Harry said to his rapt audience consisting of all his fellow Gryffindor sixth-years. 'But I am sure that you all know that,' he added in on impulse putting on a casual air.

'What do you mean?' Parvati asked curiously.

'Well, it's nothing much, but I used to Apparate all the time when I was a kid. Didn't know what I was doing though at that time. But I used to pop around my neighbourhood a lot after I found out I could do that when I once accidentally appeared on the roof of my old primary school. This was before I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts and knew of the existence of magic ... I think I was six?'

Seeing the gobsmacked look on their faces, Harry put on a confused expression. 'Isn't that common? I mean I am sure that most of you must have done it a lot.'

'Mate, nobody has consciously Apparated before getting their Hogwarts letters. Sure some of us may have done it as accidental magic, but you are the first person I have heard of that has done something like that.' Seamus said carefully as the others nodded slowly, some with sceptical looks on their faces.

'Oh,' said Harry. He put on an expression similar to the one he had on his face from the time when he found out in his second year that talking to snakes wasn't a common gift.

And so by the end of the day, the whole school knew that Harry Potter was capable of Apparating from the time he was a small child. Though by then, the whole student population was certain that Harry was four when he first Apparated.

The news had garnered a lot of mixed reactions. Some were in awe of him while the others wondered if this made Harry eligible for an immediate licence. Most, however, were sceptical about this fact.

Harry really didn't mind the scepticism. He knew that he could prove them all wrong by the time the first class started up. It was a stroke of genius on his part. This way, he wouldn't have to worry about picking it up too fast.

Although, he really didn't care much for the added popularity and attention he was getting, but he had to bear with it. It was the trappings of fame. At least this time it was for something he had supposedly done.

As the day ended, Harry sneaked off and reluctantly headed to Dumbledore's office. As he muttered the password, he couldn't help but feel a bit of trepidation along with the anger and resentment that the old man's name elicited in him. He hadn't met Dumbledore ever since their eventful meeting after that fateful Hogsmeade trip, so he did not know what the old man was planning or had planned. It had not escaped Harry that Dumbledore was powerful: both magically, and politically. And Bathilda's story of his childhood had not exactly given him a ringing recommendation of the old man's morality. So he knew that the conniving old man could do something sneaky.

'Ah, Harry, come in,' said the old headmaster genially.

Smiling politely, and not saying anything, Harry sat down in front of Dumbledore. He looked at the Pensieve placed on the desk and the phials containing memories before looking back at the headmaster blandly.

Harry had noticed that Dumbledore had not called him to his office after he had basically shouted at the man and had accused him of being all those things. He was initially relieved about this as he thought that the old man had decided not to pursue Harry or had realised that Harry wasn't going to take any excuses. However, after observing the headmaster sitting there at the teacher's table every mealtime, that initial feeling of relief was replaced by the thought that the headmaster really did not care what Harry thought of him. And if he did not care about that, he did not care about Harry at all and never did. The thought festered and over time, it had the effect of burning away any hatred Harry had towards Dumbledore.

For the longest time, Harry thought that hatred was the opposite of love, but now he realised that it was indifference. Because when it boiled down to it, hatred, like love, was an emotion. Since the headmaster did not really care about Harry, Harry decided that he shouldn't care either. So, over the course of the Winter Holidays, he had decided to adopt a mien of polite aloofness towards the headmaster. Their relationship was one of business, brought about by war. There wasn't anything personal about it.

Not that it would stop him from finding an opportunity to exact revenge on the headmaster.

Albus looked at the young man in front of him curiously. Initially he wanted to summon the boy back to his office the very next day after their tiff to try to calmly explain things to him. He knew that Harry would have calmed down sufficiently enough to be reasonable. However, with Miss Perks' being admitted to hospital and her subsequent death had lead to a long discussion with the Board of Governors and the Auror department about the future of the school and subsequent security measures. Then a sudden development in a new lead into Tom Riddle's past had cropped up. Thanks to these events, Dumbledore had to postpone meeting with the boy to this day, more than a month after they had last met.

And so, Albus Dumbledore fully expected to be met by a sullen and defiant teenager. What he was unprepared for was the bland look on the boy's face. There wasn't even a look of challenge or triumph in the boy's eyes. He had heard that the boy had gone over to the Longbottoms' place for the second half of his holidays after Christmas, and wondered if this was in a way a challenge towards the instructions he had given Harry all those months back at the Burrow.

Harry spent the next long minute of silence looking around at the room. He absently noticed that the instruments and their tables had been repaired.

'I hear that you met the Minister of Magic over Christmas?' Dumbledore finally broke the silence.

Harry answered the half-question half-statement with only a nonchalant 'yeah' before lapsing into silence. After all, his new attitude towards the headmaster didn't mean that he had to participate in, or initiate, a conversation with the man.

Dumbledore sat there considering the teenager in front of him. It always is so hard to get information from teenagers he thought, not for the first time in his long life. 'She wanted to meet you ever since she came into office,' he finally said. 'I felt that it wasn't prudent to grant her wish seeing as it came very close on the heels of Cornelius's scheme to use your name to boost his ratings and keep him in office in the last few days of his life as Minister. You do have to admit that it is very suspicious.'

'True,' said Harry. 'However,' he continued, almost reluctantly, 'Your suspicions were unfounded. She did not attempt to recruit me. Her words were somewhat along the lines of "I am not desperate enough to use a sixteen year old schoolboy to keep myself in office" I believe.'

'Then what did she talk about?' Dumbledore asked curiously after another pause.

'Nothing really, I just had a ten minute pleasant conversation with the Minister of Magic. She did not have anything of great import to tell me or share with me.' Upon seeing the look of polite incredulity on Dumbledore's face, Harry said defensively, 'What, it's true!'

Dumbledore still had his eyebrows raised when he replied. 'So the Minister has wanted to meet you for so many months just so she could have a small chat?' he said slowly. 'Forgive me, Harry, but I find that a trifle hard to believe.' A thought slipped into his mind as he asked with concern, 'I think it's best you tell me exactly what she said, because I fear that she might have another motive in talking to you. Something you may not have picked up.' Dumbledore cursed himself for not seeing the possibility that Amelia would be crafty enough to ambush Harry at the Burrow. Who knows what information the woman could have collected? And the worst part of it was that Harry, being so young and un-exposed to politics or people from the Law Enforcement Department, would have inadvertently given that information freely without thinking twice.

'I don't really remember the conversation,' said Harry. 'But what I do know is that she never did ask me about you, the Order, Voldemort, or anything of import. She did not even mention those subjects at all! It was like talking to someone on the street, really. I actually think that she wanted to get Percy talking to his family again.'

There was a pregnant pause as Dumbledore thought of Harry's words. 'Very well,' he finally said, hoping that it actually was the case, strange as it was. Just to be sure, he would poke about and find out just what the Minister wanted from Harry. After all, while the Minister was wily and had excellent barriers preventing an unnoticeable egress into her mind, her assistant and Cornelius were quite vulnerable.

'Well, the night grows long and we do have business to attend to,' Dumbledore said with a sigh as he looked at his pocket watch with the odd markings on its face. 'Over the course of the holidays, I managed to recover this one important memory.' He waved his injured hand towards one of the phials. 'However, this memory isn't as important as the second one, which I shall be showing you afterwards. So without further ado...'

He picked up the phial on the desk and looked at it for a moment briefly thinking about the fate of the poor man he had obtained it from, before he set it back on the desk.

'Now before we begin, I think it best that I provide some background information. So if you will bear with me Harry.' Dumbledore paused to gather his thoughts before launching into a detailed history of what Voldemort had done in his formative years in Hogwarts as Tom Riddle.

'...Finally, after painstaking research through old books of Wizarding families, he discovered the existence of Slytherin's surviving line. In the summer of his sixteenth year, he left the orphanage to which he returned annually and set off to find his Gaunt relatives. And now, Harry, if you will stand …'

Dumbledore rose, 'I was very lucky to collect this,' he said, as he poured the gleaming mass into the Pensieve. 'As you will understand when we have experienced it. Shall we?'

Harry stepped up to the stone basin and bowed obediently until his face sank through the surface of the memory; he felt the famil iar sensation of falling through nothingness and then landed upon a dirty stone floor in almost total darkness.

Several minutes later, both headmaster and student were ejected from the Pensieve. Contemplating the memory Harry had seen in the Pensieve, he said, 'I guess that the unnatural darkness that came about near the end was Voldemort's doing?'

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore with an approving nod. 'Voldemort evidently erased the memory of the what happened next from Morfin's mind before continuing to do whatever it was he planned to do.'

'Let me guess,' said Harry drily. 'He then waltzed into town, walked up to the manor in the village, rang the doorbell and said "hi" to his dear old dad. Oh and he also showed him his uncle's wand and what it could do.'

'Quite,' said Dumbledore feeling his lips quirk upwards despite himself. 'The next morning, the maid working for the Riddles was seen running down High Street screaming about the triple murder. The Muggle authorities do not know what or who killed the family to this day I believe. However, the Ministry of Magic knew of a Muggle-hater that lived near the village, so the first person they came to visit was, naturally Morfin Gaunt. They did not need to even question him, or even use Veritaserum since he was ready to admit to killing the Muggles, giving details only a murderer would know. And as you have guessed, Morfin's wand also was proven to have killed the Riddles. He even went along quietly without much of a fuss, seeming completely unconcerned except for the loss of his father's ring.'

'I take it that Tom modified Morfin's memory,' Harry said. He couldn't help but feel a grudging admiration for the complex magic Voldemort pulled off at the age of sixteen. He did not need to question why the Ministry wasn't able to detect Voldemort's use of underage magic, as he knew that there were ways to get around The Trace. After all, he himself employed one of those methods.

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore. 'It took a lot of skilled Legilimency to extract this one snippet we just experienced. I tried to use it to secure Morfin's release, but before the decision to release him could be made, Morfin died in Azkaban.' Dumbledore bowed his head as he thought about the innocent man that had languished in Azkaban for more than half a century, only to die there just before he was to be declared a free man. He quickly dismissed these thoughts. He could not afford to dwell on them as they, along with thoughts of Sirius Black's imprisonment, always led to thoughts of his own father. Albus remembered the two instances where he had been able to see his father before the man had died. It was because of this that he hated Dementors with a passion and also became unbearably depressed when thinking about Sirius and now, Morfin Gaunt.

'Now, to get back on track, I have one other memory to show you. And this is the most important memory that I shall show you tonight. In fact, it could be the most important of all our little jaunts into this Pensieve.'

Saying this, Albus took the other phial, watched as the sludgy contents sluggishly went into the Pensieve. He would have to clean the Pensieve after this viewing, playing corrupted memories was not good for the Pensieve and if he did not perform the necessary spells, the rare magical device could get spoiled. And considering that it wasn't his Pensieve to begin with, he could not afford such a thing. He was already on shaky ground with Harry as it is. It was a surprise that the boy hadn't mentioned anything about the Pensieve being his. Perhaps he had not realised that fact yet? Albus knew that it would probably help his relationship with Harry if he told the boy about this, but at the same time this revelation could also drive the teenager away. And there was little to no time left before he left for his next great adventure. He hoped that the fact that he was dead and gone by then would help soothe any ruffled feathers when Harry found out. At any rate, he had to show Harry the tainted memory given by his old friend. While Albus had gained a great deal of information from this memory, tainted as it was, he still needed the full memory just to ensure that he had not missed anything. Also, this would be an ideal way for Harry to hone his cunning. Something the teenager would need if he had any hope of beating Voldemort.

Harry noted the congealed nature of the memory that Dumbledore claimed to be extremely important. He guessed that this was due to the memory being spoilt or tainted somehow. Bending his head over the Pensieve, he preceded his headmaster into the Pensieve.

'As you can see, the memory has been tampered with,' said Dumbledore as he reclaimed his seat behind the desk after they viewed the memory. 'Horace has meddled with his own recollections, no doubt ashamed about the information he inadvertently gave Voldemort ... Harry are you alright?'

Albus looked at his student with concern. The young man had his head in his hands and looked decidedly unwell.

'Ugh,' Harry fairly moaned out. 'I don't think so,' he finally said.

'You look fairly wrung out, my boy,' said Albus. Leaning forward, he examined the face of the boy in front of him. 'You are quite pale. I think that a visit to the hospital wing would be prudent. Perhaps I should have left it for another day. It seems that adding this to the stress of returning to school life has not agreed with you. I shall call Madame Pomfrey...' saying this, he got up and moved towards the fireplace.

'No, no,' said Harry standing up. 'It is fine, professor, I think I can make it there by myself.'

Dumbledore looked at the teenager in concern as though doubting his words. 'Are you sure? It will be easier and faster if you went by Floo...'

'No, no Floo. I don't think I will be able to survive one right now!' said Harry frantically.

Albus opened his mouth as if to argue. Changing his mind, he said, 'Very well, if you are sure.'

'Oh I am sure,' said Harry as he shuffled towards the door. 'See you later, sir.'

'Take care, my boy, oh and one last thing, before you go, as you can see, this information is very valuable. Therefore it is imperative that we retrieve the correct memory. I am sure that the true recollection lies within Horace's mind. It has not been fully erased yet. So for the first time, I must leave you with homework, Harry. I want you to retrieve the correct memory from Horace Slughorn.'

'Yes sir,' said Harry as he opened the door, really not in the mood to argue with the professor or ask why Dumbledore himself couldn't do this. 'Goodnight.'

Albus' answering 'Goodnight,' was heard only by the closed door of his office. It was sad that he could not talk to Harry about their argument from before, but he doubted that such a prickly subject would be well received by the boy as ill as he seemed to be. Oh well, perhaps another time...

Stumbling downstairs, Harry barely noticed the gargoyle behind him close. Taking a deep breath, he straightened up and, getting himself under control, he headed towards the Gryffindor Tower. He had no intention of heading to the hospital wing. He knew what the problem was, and he also knew that no potion or spell would be able to fix this.

The tainted memory he had seen of Slughorn's had triggered another reaction within him, his biggest one yet. Only this time, he had to keep the flood of memories at bay. He knew that Dumbledore might suspect something should he actually succumb to the memory, so he felt it prudent to hold it back.

However, holding the vision at bay was taxing. Halfway to the dorm, he called out for a house-elf and had it transport him to his bed in the dorm.

Sighing in relief at the thankfully empty dorm, Harry finally let the memories wash over him.

It seemed that the memories left behind had one trigger, a password of sorts; Horcruxes. The minute Harry had heard the word being spoken in Slughorn's memory, it unlocked a door that he had no idea even existed, despite having practised Occlumency for such a long time.

'No … well … you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hog warts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,' said Slughorn as he looked at him.

The hesitancy, casualness and careful flattery all came naturally to him as he said his prepared speech. 'But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd ask —'

'Well,' said Slughorn, not looking at him, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, 'well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course, just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a per son has concealed part of their soul.'

Perfect, now for the next line in the script. Carefully controlling the thrill of excitement he felt coursing through him, he said.

'I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir.'

'Well, you split your soul, you see,' said Slughorn, 'and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form … few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be pre ferable.'

As he felt the anticipation of being so close fill him, a small voice spoke, 'Who's Tom?' ignoring that voice, he asked the next question.

'How do you split your soul?'

'Well,' said Slughorn uncomfortably, 'you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.'

'But how do you do it?'

'By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creat ing a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —'

'Encase? But how —?'

'There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!' said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. 'Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?'

'No, sir, of course not,' he said quickly even though he felt trifle disappointed. Oh well, it wouldn't be that satisfying if it were so easy. 'I'm sorry … I didn't mean to offend …'

'Not at all, not at all, not offended,' said Slughorn gruffly. 'It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things. … Wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic. …'

'Yes, sir, what I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven —?'

'Merlin's beard, Tom!' yelped Slughorn. 'Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case … bad enough to divide the soul … but to rip it into seven pieces …'

Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at him as though he had never seen him plainly before and he could tell that the professor was regretting entering into the conversation at all. Not that it mattered much to him; he had all the information he needed. Besides, a few days later and things with the old duffer would be back to normal.

'Of course,' Slughorn muttered, 'this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic …'

'Yes, sir, of course,' he said quickly. It looked like he wouldn't have to work at easing the old codger's mind that much.

'But all the same, Tom … keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know. … Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it. …'

'I won't say a word, sir,' he said before he turned around to leave.

Harry had barely a moment to register his current surroundings before he was assaulted with snippets of new memories.

...He finally had researched the spell. Performing it non-verbally, he thought of the death of his father. He actually saw himself standing over the man, looking into the feckless Muggle's eyes as he blindly pointed his wand at his bare chest. A grey wisp of smoke slowly erupted from the centre. Unable to keep his stoicism, he let a scream echo throughout the large chamber he was sitting in. Panting, he focused on the ring he had stolen from his squib of an uncle, and with another scream, pushed the mist into the stone...

...the death of the mudblood was unfortunate, but it served his purpose well. Once again, he was transported back to the memory of her death, the look of shock on her face was exquisite ... smiling slightly, he blindly pointed the wand at his chest again. The pain was slightly lesser, and the mist that rose was a deeper grey, but he didn't care. He pushed it into his diary...

...he panted as he looked at the diadem in front of him. He finally had his revenge on the old bastard who fleeced his mother, worthless as she was anyway. This diadem would be hidden in Hogwarts, in The Hidden Room. The one room he was confident that nobody knew of. Right under Dumbledore's crooked old nose...

...he looked into the green eyes of the baby who was prophesised to destroy him. The little brat's death would help cement his immortality. He was surprised when the curse, as green as the brat's eyes came back at him, ripping him in two and out of his body. He felt himself dissipating; his only hope was the living thing in the same room as he was in ... the thing that destroyed him. He acted...

Gasping, Harry found himself back in the present. So that is what a Horcrux is! He thought silently as he got his breath under control. He instantly felt revolted. To think that Voldemort would go to such lengths to achieve immortality was pretty nauseating. He truly had delved in the darkest of dark arts.

It certainly explained the significance of the items that had triggered those visions in the past. Hufflepuff's Cup ... Slytherin's Locket ... the Gaunt Ring, (or was it the Peverell Ring?) ... they were all Horcruxes ... and aside from the ring, Harry had the rest in his possession.

Well, aside from the ring and the diadem... and the ring really did not count as it had been destroyed already. After all, the stone was whole when Voldemort had converted it into a Horcrux.

Of course, the most distressing bit was the fact that a piece of the bastard's soul was lodged in him ... even if it no longer was within him, the thought that he had carried such a taint for so long wasn't pleasant. Unconsciously, Harry moved toward a mirror. It was a long time since he had last looked at his scar in a mirror and observed it. The scar which in years past had always been so vivid and clear had become rather faint in the past few months. In fact, he actually had to struggle to find it in the low light of the empty dorm room. This was a visual confirmation of what he had suspected all along. The scar was no longer cursed and he was fully free of any fragment of Voldemort's soul. What was more, Voldemort was no longer immortal because of him!

Or at least he was less immortal ... if that was possible.

From what he understood, Voldemort had split his soul in half seven times. Or was that eight? Somehow, Harry doubted that Voldemort knew that he had made him a Horcrux. So there was a distinct possibility that the man had split his soul once again after regaining his body ... Harry did the math in his head; that meant that Voldemort had 1/256th of a soul left in his body ... if Harry's calculations were right, that was a tiny amount of soul to have in a body.

Suddenly Harry's eyes flew open. Dumbledore knew! He knew about the Horcruxes. And he knew what they were. After all, it was too much of a coincidence that Harry had seen memories involving an item that was later on turned into a Horcrux. And that meant that Dumbledore knew, or suspected that Harry was one himself! The thought sent chills down his spine. Unbidden, a conversation he had with the ancient headmaster four years ago came back to him;

'...unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure. …'

'Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?'

'It certainly seems so...'

Dumbledore knew then. All this time, the man knew. And he did not see fit to tell Harry. So much for being open and divulging all secrets, Harry thought bitterly. Not that he was surprised; all he had to do was remember what he had found out over the summer that the old man hadn't told him.

But this was big. It meant that Dumbledore had known all along that Harry was a Horcrux, and from what Harry knew of them so far, to make Voldemort mortal, one had to destroy the vessels his soul fragments were in, as in the Horcruxes that he had made. At least conventionally, the thing with the possession and whatever it was that he had done definitely fell in the unconventional category. So that meant that Dumbledore had been plotting his death all this time! Harry's mind whirled with different scenarios. Was this why he was dumped out in the cold with magic hating Muggles? So that if the cold November night didn't get his one year old body, the Muggles would? Was the circus that was his first year, the potentially lethal detention and finally the thing with the stone, an attempt to finish him off? Did Dumbledore encourage the events in the following year? Did he stop when he realised that there was a possibility of Voldemort having more than one Horcrux?

Harry shook his head. Thinking about this wouldn't help any. It was all in the past. What mattered now was the present. And presently, there were two people who would love to see him dead ... two people who had the common goal of killing him off ... Dumbledore and Voldemort. And he needed to kill them first before they got him.

Well, here you have it, Chapter 23! As you can see, Dumbledore really isn't conspiring to kill Harry ... that fact will be made more clear later on. However, Harry thinks Dumbledore is out to kill him. And no, he isn't going to be sitting down and having a discussion with Dumbledore about that. Why? Well, would you ask a person who you are pretty sure is out to kill you if he plans on doing it? Especially when your would be murderer could erase your memory therefore making sure that you don't realise that he is in fact about to kill you?

Anyway, review! How many of you recognised that little song Dean was torturing the Fat Lady with?

Also, I have put up a poll ... see, the thing is, I cannot decide if I want Snape live or dead in Black Vengeance (which I may or may not update soon). It could go either way... and all three scenarios have so much potential!

24. Disappointments

Harry left for the common room after his bath the next morning, feeling a mixture of intensity and dread. The revelation that came from viewing the memory had lifted a veil from his eyes which he did not know was there to begin with. Everything seemed so much clearer now. To kill Voldemort, he would first need to destroy the Horcruxes the Dark Lord had created. And out of the six the evil wizard had (knowingly) created, two had been destroyed, two were in Harry's possession (through sheer dumb luck) and one was within walking distance from Harry's current location. All Harry would have to do was go to the Room of Requirement, find and take Ravenclaw's Diadem, and then destroy it and the remaining Horcruxes. That would make Voldemort vulnerable.

Of course, killing Voldemort would be a problem itself ... however, at the same time Harry had been putting in a lot of hard work into training his magic. When he wasn't practising with Neville, he was up against the best The Room could throw at him which included duelling tactics the castle had observed over the thousand years of its existence.

How a piece of man-made architecture managed to observe and reciprocate duelling strategies was explained after Harry read through Slytherin's journals. After meeting Godric, Salazar set about teaching the younger man the finer aspects of magic, keeping certain secrets behind for himself and his heirs. Over the course of the next few years, they eventually met Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw was described to be an intelligent and gifted woman, though she did have her head buried in her books and theories way too many times and tended to go off on tangents. Helga Hufflepuff was described to be a man's woman. Born to Viking parents who had settled in Wales, the tall six foot four inch blonde witch displayed many traits of the Norse. Towering a good four inches over Slytherin, she had biceps that rivalled Godric's bulky muscles (something Salazar's apprentice found more than intimidating). However, she was surprisingly gentle and kind with a knack for making good food with magic, a skill few possessed. She was also, much to Salazar's annoyance, fiercely loyal to her friend, Rowena Ravenclaw.

Salazar's three companions had then visited his new castle up in the Kingdom of Alba (Harry suddenly noticed that names had started appearing in the later volumes, something he made a note to go back later and check to see where it had started). Rowena had taken one look at the massive castle being constructed and put forth the idea of having a school of magic to teach each and every wizarding child in the British Isles. The Wizards still remembered the heyday of Uther and Arthur's reign which had united Britain for two glorious centuries. Something the Muggles had long since forgotten. So while they acknowledged the different Muggle kingdoms of the time, they still thought of it as Britain, the kingdom of Arthur.

Having experienced the benefits of a university of magic, Salazar agreed, and so the four got about changing some aspects of the castle to better resemble a school. They had decided to name it Hogwarts.

The entrapped and enslaved souls that formed the frontline defence in the form of large statues made of metal and stone, combined with the heavy amount of enchantments and magic concentrated within the castle, had made the structure come alive as the sentience of the souls bled into the building. Recognising it for what it was, Salazar brought the castle to heel, making it subservient to the four founders and anybody they appointed and halting the development of any true intelligence. He had also, unknown to the others, given him and his bloodline precedence over the rest. After all, it was his property and his castle.

Thanks to this feature, Harry was able to train against many different opponents in different surroundings. While it was sad that the souls encased within the castle would never be released, at the same time, it still served his purposes.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Harry paced in front of the fireplace, waiting for Neville. The knowledge that a Horcrux was so close was making him jittery. He already had to control himself from rushing off the last night to get the diadem. Taking deep breaths, Harry calmed himself. Now was not the time to rush into things. The diadem had been in Hogwarts for quite a few years, a few more hours won't hurt. He couldn't think about the fact that he had two of the most powerful wizards after his head. Thinking about that would only strengthen the dread he was feeling.

'Hey, Harry,' Neville said as he entered the common room. Giving his friend a 'hey,' in return, Harry set off towards the Great Hall with the blonde.

'You alright?' the other boy asked wryly. 'I haven't seen you run so fast today, or be this intense. What gives?'

'Just seem to be in the zone, I guess.' Harry replied as he tried to make his voice sound normal. 'I think today is going to be a good day!'

'If you say so,' said Neville uncertainly thinking about the weather which was very typical of a day in early January: cold and snowy. A look outside the window confirmed his suspicions that nothing changed in the last few minutes.

They were half-way through their breakfast when shouting could be heard just outside the hall causing the students just inside the doors to look up. They didn't have to wait long to find out what had happened when two girls crashed into the hall squabbling over a small object and shrieking.

'What is the meaning of this?' Professor McGonagall demanded as she got up from her seat at the staff table and strode towards the two bitterly fighting girls with Professor Snape at her heels as the students watched the unfolding drama.

The girls, however, did not react to professor McGonagall's stern voice. 'Give that back!' said the dark-haired one as she yanked on the object.

'No, you crazy-' the person she was fighting, a brown-haired girl replied. She was cut off when the dark-haired girl violently shoved a fist into her mouth.

'Ha!' the dark-haired girl said victoriously holding up the object for the world to see as she gazed into it rapturously.

'Are they fighting over a mirror?' Harry asked the table in general.

'Looks like it,' said Susan.

'Oh ... Just making sure,'

The second girl recovered by this time and even though she had blood oozing out of a split lip screeched, 'Oh, no you don't!' and tackled the black-haired girl down screaming, 'Give me back my mirror, you crazy-'

'That is enough!' Professors Snape and McGonagall shouted simultaneously coming out of their momentary stupor. Furiously, McGonagall whipped out her wand and shot a disarming charm at the girls, causing the mirror to sail into her waiting hand.

If the Transfiguration teacher thought that this was enough to end the fight and get the girls to calm down, she was sorely mistaken as the dark haired girl immediately pushed the other girl down, and, forgetting her opponent, sprinted towards her new target, who just happened to be a very surprised Professor McGonagall.

'Stupefy,' said Snape lazily.

The spell hit the girl in the face before she could come within lunging distance, causing her to fall to the floor, stunned.

'What?' Snape asked laconically as he looked at the deputy headmistress's disapproving expression. 'Miss Vane is clearly not in control of her senses. Otherwise she would not have attempted to attack you in such a fashion.'

Sniffing, professor McGonagall nodded curtly, refraining from reprimanding her younger colleague in front of the pupils. Besides, she did sort of agree with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. The child was clearly not in her senses.

'Very well, professor. Now, Miss Underhill, care to explain what this is about?'

The brown-haired girl, sporting numerous scratches and bruises and a bleeding lip quailed slightly at the stern look sent her way. 'I don't know, professor. Romilda just came up to me and snatched my mirror. When I asked for it back, she just ignored me. So I moved to take it back. That was when she attacked me. The rest you have seen now a moment ago.'

Professor McGonagall gave a quiet sigh as she said, 'Very well, Miss Underhill. Please see yourself to the hospital wing. Severus, please take Miss Vane to the hospital wing. I shall alert the headmaster. Any further action shall be discussed then.' She gave Snape a pointed look as she said the last bit.

If Snape felt irritated by this, he did not show it, settling to nod curtly as he levitated the unconscious girl. Sneering at the girl's body as it rose in the air, he stalked off towards the Hospital Wing with the girls following him.

'Vane ... I have heard of that family,' said Daphne next to Harry as the noise level in the hall suddenly picked up as everybody discussed what had happened. Her presence at the Ravenclaw table wasn't commented on much since those around her were either privy to her betrothal, had seen her go out with Harry quite a few times, or were too intimidated to ask why she was sitting next to the Boy Who Lived.

'I think her mother works at the Ministry,' said Blaise. 'Some department or the other,' he sniffed before going back to lavishing attention to Morag MacDougal.

'She was that fourth year girl we met on the train at the beginning of the year, right, Harry? I wonder what's wrong with her...' said Neville. 'Harry?'

He turned to look at the boy just in time to catch Harry smooth out the smug grin on his face. 'I have no idea,' Harry said innocently.

Susan had also noticed the fleeting expression on Harry's face, 'Alright, spill Potter! We know you know something!'

'Well,' said Harry dragging the word out 'I think I may know what is wrong with little Romilda Vane.'

'And?' said Daphne drawing out the word the same way as Harry did.

'Ah, you see, before the holidays, Vane gifted me with a box of Cauldron Cakes. She claimed that they were filled with firewhiskey. Now, I did not know the girl beforehand, you see. I thought that she was a bit too ...' he trailed off delicately.

'Stroppy?' Neville volunteered.

'Well, I wouldn't call it that, but yeah. Anyway, I didn't know her, so her name really hadn't featured on my gift list. So it was kind of awkward that she had given me something when I hadn't. So in order to be nice, I decided to give something back. Unfortunately, she sort of slipped my mind and at the last minute I realised that I had nothing to give her. So I re-wrapped the present she gave me, and sent it back to her. After all, there wasn't anything on the box that would tip her off, and I really didn't know her that well.' he shrugged.

'Other than the fact that you seem to be pretty cheap, Potter, I fail to understand how this is in any way related to Vane acting like a half crazed-loon today.' Ernie said drily.

'Well, my decision to re-wrap her gift and give it back to her may or may not have been influenced by rumours I may or may not have overheard that Romilda Vane was intent on feeding me love potion.' Harry said succinctly.

Ernie, Justin, Terry and Neville all looked at Harry blankly for a moment before they all burst out laughing. 'So ... so she basically ended up eating her own love potion? Oh, this is priceless!' Justin howled between guffaws of laughter.

'Yup, now you know why she was fighting for the mirror,' said Harry with a perfectly innocent look on his face as his eyes danced in mirth. 'She was in love with herself! I guess she really is vain!' he smiled at his double entendre

Susan, who initially had a disapproving look on her face smiled and said, 'Well, at first I was going to say that it is highly rude to return someone's gift back to them even if it is re-wrapped, but then again, it is even ruder to drug the recipient of your gift. So I say that she got what was coming to her.'

Daphne was staring at the doors of the Great Hall with an intense look on her face. 'So she tried to drug my fiancé? I am so going to make her pay...'

'Now, now, luv, let it be,' Harry said good naturedly as he slung an arm around her and gave her a small squeeze. 'She got her just desserts.'

Daphne smiled beatifically at her fiancé. 'OK, Harry, if you say so.'

Harry gave her a mild look of suspicion. 'You promise?'

'I promise! I won't harm a hair on her head...' Daphne replied with a grin on her face.

'Great,' Appeased with that, Harry pecked her on the lips. Getting up, he said, 'I've got to get to Potions, so later, guys.'

'Hang on, I'm coming with you,' said Ernie as he scrambled out of his seat. Looking at their watches, the Ravenclaws gasped as they also scrambled out of their seats.

Unnoticed by everybody, Daphne's smile grew predatory as she watched her fiancé and friends go off to class. While she had promised that she wouldn't do a thing to Vane, it didn't mean that she could do something to somebody else...

'Not so fast, Longbottom.' The boy in question squawked as he was yanked by the back of his collar into a secluded corner.

'Something I can help you with, Daphne?' said Neville as he rubbed his throat and straightened his clothes.

'Yes, I would like the password to Gryffindor Tower, please.' Daphne said expectantly.

'Why?' said Neville suspiciously, 'I thought you promised Harry that you wouldn't do anything to Romilda?'

'Oh, don't worry about that, Neville,' Daphne said patting the taller boy on his head. 'I won't do anything to her' not directly she thought with a mental cackle. Sighing at the stubborn look on his face, she said, 'Either you tell me the password and keep that mouth of yours shut, or I find a first- or second-year Gryffindor and scare them witless so they tell me. Either way, I'm getting that password, Longbottom. It can be the easy way or the hard way, you decide.'

Gulping at the cold stare he was getting, Neville said, 'Abstinence.'

'Good boy,' said Daphne. She turned around to leave.

'I'm telling Harry,' warned Neville.

Daphne only turned around and said with a smile, 'Then I'll let slip what you did ten years ago.'

'You promised you wouldn't!' Neville gasped.

'And you promised that you won't tell Harry...'

'Fine,' Neville ground out as he got the gist.

Grinning maniacally, Daphne hurried away.

Even though she did not attend the N.E.W.T. Potions class, Daphne still knew that while she could get love potion of her own, the flaw with that plan was that to activate it, the witch (or in some cases wizard) must say their name and put a strand of their hair in the potion willingly. It would then target any person drinking it. Making them feel infatuated with the witch or wizard.

But now that Daphne had the password, it would be easy to get to Romilda Vane's dorm room. Daphne had already figured out where the other entrances were a few years ago, so she made a beeline toward the Fat Lady. Uttering the password, she stepped through. Acting as if she owned the place, she purposefully headed up the girls' staircase.

Entering the fourth-year dorm, she didn't have to look far. Sitting there innocently on a bed was a box of cauldron cakes. Smirking devilishly, Daphne took the box and secreted it in her bag. Exiting the dorm, she confidently strode back out of the tower, careful to avoid eye contact with the seventh years there that were anyway busy studying. Nobody paid her any mind.

'… and so,' finished Slughorn, 'I want each of you to come and take one of these phials from my desk. You are to create an antidote for the poison within it before the end of the lesson. Good luck, and don't forget your protective gloves!'

Harry serenely watched Hermione and the others bolt off towards the storage cupboard. He had studied beforehand about Golpalott's third law, and agreed with the notation that he saw in the Prince's book.

Slughorn asked them to find an antidote to the blended poisons. To do so, one not only needed to find the antidote to the separate components of the poison, but also find that one ingredient that would combine all the antidotes of the separate components into one whole antidote for the blended poison.

So feeling particularly cheeky, Harry took his phial of lurid pink potion and divided it into two parts. Going to the storage cupboard, he found the cardboard box of bezoars, something that he noticed nobody in the class had thought to take. While a bezoar wouldn't work on all poisons, it worked on nearly all blended poisons. Those blended poisons that it was ineffectual against required some very rare ingredients, something he doubted that Slughorn would want to waste on a sixth year class. So taking two bezoars, he hurried back to his spot on the table and, applying a silencing charm on his mortar, started grinding one of the brittle stones into a fine powder. He theorised that the powdered form of the bezoar would be more effective on the potion than the whole stone, which would work only in the gullet of the poisoned individual.

Finished, he looked up from his work to see that the classroom was now barely visible thanks in part to Ron who now had putrid fumes issuing from his cauldron. Looking at the clock, he noticed that half of their time was up. While the stone was brittle, it still was a bitch to grind, magically enforced pestle nor not. He massaged his arm. It was pretty sore from all the grinding he had done.

Hermione was sitting opposite him, enthusiastically decanting the poisons and adding in ingredients to the phials with almost carefree abandon. Looking up, her face adopted a distinctly smug look when she saw that Harry hadn't done anything to his cauldron other than pour out the contents of his phial.

'What's the matter, Harry, having problems? Too bad the Prince won't be able to help you here. You have to understand the principles here properly. No shortcuts or cheats!' she said in a sing-song voice.

Hiding his annoyance at her irritating tone, Harry just grinned back at her sweetly. Seeing this, Hermione's grin faltered for a moment before she fixed it back in place and resumed her work. Watching her idly, Harry couldn't help but think of her as a parody of a witch as far as Muggles were concerned, what with the way she was throwing in various ingredients. All she needed was a wart and an ugly nose. He watched in horrified fascination as she actually raised a hand to her head and cut off a chunk of her own hair with her silver knife. 'I am so not drinking that antidote,' he said under his breath, feeling a little sick at the sight as the potion in the phial turned a muddy brown and gave a little 'gloop' upon the addition.

Noticing that Slughorn started to make his rounds, and deciding that he had dawdled enough, he took the contents of his mortar and tipped the ground up bezoar into the half that was in his cauldron. He was rewarded with the potion immediately changing colour to become transparent with a hint of blue. Something he knew from his Potions book was a sign that the poison was neutralised. Smiling devilishly, Harry transferred the contents into a phial with his wand.

Of course, he knew that if this question was asked in the Potions N.E.W.T. practical exam, he'd be screwed, but from looking at past papers, Harry was certain that would not happen. Making antidotes using the law was quite advanced and took too much time. It was taught more in depth to those taking their masteries in Potions.

'By Jove, he's done it!' Slughorn exclaimed in delighted incredulity the minute he looked at Harry's phial. Immediately everybody stopped what they were doing as they looked incredulously at the phial in Slughorn's hand.

'And that too, before the allotted time is up! Fifteen points to Gryffindor! How on earth did you manage such a feat, my boy? No, no, don't tell me yet,' said Slughorn with a sly smirk on his face before Harry could open his mouth. 'We'll wait till the end of the class.' Giving Harry a knowing look and a wink, he moved on.

Hermione shot a deadly look at the smugly smiling Harry before bending over her work with renewed determination as if wanting to prove Harry wrong.

'How did you do it?' Ron asked in quiet shock as his cauldron started belching out more smoke. Suddenly, something caught his eye. Looking around, he saw Slughorn looking at him with a stern expression that was completely foreign on his otherwise jovial face. Startled by this, the ginger gave a little 'Eep,' and got back to work.

Cleaning up his workstation and packing his bag, Harry sat there reading his Potions text, making sure that Hermione saw the cover. Seeing that Slughorn was free he raised his hand.

'Yes, Harry?' Slughorn said as he got up and came toward his star pupil.

'Well sir, I had studied the principle of Scarpin's Revealaspell and how it can be used to detect poisons, and I have a question. Say hypothetically, if I were to find myself in a room with the entrance and exit blocked by magical fire and there are seven potion bottles on a table in the middle, two of which are filled with wine, three with poison and two others with the potion that will let me go through the fires and a riddle to tell me which is which. Could I use the spell to detect the poison or would I have to solve the riddle?'

Hermione instantly froze as she waited for Slughorn's answer, entirely forgetting what she was doing.

'Well,' said Slughorn slightly bemused. 'If that were the case, you could use the spell. However, I would use a more advanced poison detecting spell since it is more accurate and reliable in this case at least. I really don't understand the point of this trap of yours, though. It is laughably easy to get out of.'

'But sir, won't it be easier to use the logical puzzle then? The spell will only reveal which bottles hold wine. It won't show which one is poison.' Hermione piped up.

'You could, but why do that when you can just conjure a bird or transfigure an animal and make it drink some of the contents in the bottles?' Harry shot back.

'My point exactly!' said Slughorn enthusiastically. 'As Harry pointed out, Miss Granger, with magic, this puzzle is easily solved. As I said, the trap is laughably easy to get out of. Any competent sixth year student could get out of it.'

Hermione opened her mouth to argue further when Slughorn looked at the clock and said softly, 'Oh dear,' before raising his voice and saying, 'Time's up!'

Nobody had completed the task. Hermione was frantically stuffing the last few ingredients into a phial, shooting Harry death glares now and again, as Slughorn made his rounds.

'A good effort from everybody,' said Slughorn after he finished examining the last cauldron. 'Now there really is no need to worry about it cropping up in your Potions N.E.W.T. practical exam as this is something taught in more depth to those wishing to take Potions further after school, so you don't have to worry about performing it then!' He chortled at Ron's muttered 'Whew'. 'But I am sure that if it does, you lot will do fine. After all, we do have some brilliant minds here with us,' he beamed at Hermione who replied with a pale grin of her own, her face sweaty and her hair far more bushy than normal with a chunk noticeably shorter.

'But then we have Harry, a true prodigy! Through intuition and a knack for the subject he clearly inherited from his mother, he was the only one to finish the task in record time!' Looking at Harry proudly, he continued, 'So Harry, care to share your method?'

In response, Harry just reached down, and removed the second bezoar which he placed on the desk with a flourish.

'Oho, just as I suspected!' said Slughorn gleefully as he took the stone from Harry. Waving the stone above his head for the class to see, Slughorn explained the properties of the bezoar.

'But on the other hand, the bezoar does not protect against all poisons, so it is worth learning how to mix antidotes using Golpalott's third law.'

Hermione and Malfoy, who had what looked like cat sick over the front of his robes, both gave Harry death glares. 'I bet you thought of this brilliant method all on your own, did you, Harry?' Hermione asked through gritted teeth.

'Yes, I did, Hermione,' said Harry with a big grin on his face.

'Haven't been using any ... shortcuts?' she asked in a fake innocent voice.

'Whatever do you mean, Miss Granger?' Slughorn asked in confusion. 'Surely you aren't implying that Harry here is cheating?'

'Why don't we find out for sure, professor?' said Hermione with a fake smile on her face. 'After all, it would be easy to just make sure that Harry isn't using alternative instructions, for example.' She shot Harry a nasty look.

Harry gave her a look of cool indifference as he slowly reached for his potions book and opened it to a random page, placed it on the desk, turned it around and pushed it toward Slughorn.

'My boy,' said Slughorn as he flipped through the pages in wonderment. 'I cannot believe it.'

'Hah!' said Hermione victoriously jabbing her finger at the open text. 'See professor, he has been using another person's notes all along!'

'My dear girl whatever do you mean? This is clearly Mr Potter's handwriting,' Slughorn said giving her a peculiar look.

Hermione's change of expression from triumphant and slightly mad, to confused, was comical. 'W-What?' she said as she looked at the book again. 'It cannot be...' She was silent for a moment before regaining her haughty voice, 'He obviously copied it then!'

'Well, if I did, then I doubt that I would be able to tell you for example that according to Arsenius Jigger in Poisons and Antidotes, the bezoar works against all blended poisons, the exception being the Waking Nightmare and Laughing Death both of which require very rare ingredients. At the same time, however, as the professor said, the bezoar's rarity also does make the application of Golpalott's third law necessary.' Harry replied coolly. 'Now, if I had copied these notes, as you claim, then I would not have known that fact because then I wouldn't have done any research whatsoever! The fact that I have clearly done my research shows beyond any doubt that I have made these notations myself after putting in quite a lot of effort throughout the school year cross-referencing my ideas.'

Hermione did not talk to Harry for the rest of the day. Not that Harry knew that since he was happily doing the same to her.

However, she did not hold her silence for long because after spending the day giving him death glares, she eventually confronted Harry in an empty classroom before dinner.

'You copied all those notes from that beat up old Potions book didn't you?' she said accusingly as she folded her arms. 'Don't deny that Harry. I know you did! You normally aren't so good. And what was all that about asking those stupid questions about first year-?'

'Excuse me?' said Harry as he gave her a haughty look, cutting her off. 'I will have you know that I researched each and every annotation made by the Prince and corroborated every fact before copying them down! And before you go off on your high hippogriff, what I did is hard work and this sort of research is something that any good student would do. Rote memorisation isn't everything.' His eyes glowing, he gave her a deadly look before continuing, his voice in a hiss, 'And for your information, I have my reasons for buttering Slughorn up. Professor Dumbledore gave me the task of getting as close to Slughorn as possible. We need a memory from the man. So I will thank you not to go about trying to sabotage my attempts at this task!'

'So all this was to get at Slughorn?' Hermione said suspiciously.

'No, it was also an effort to better myself, and get better grades. Of course, you cannot see that, because all that matters to you is marks and being the best. You can't stand to see someone be better than you at anything, can you?' For the past year she had been at it again and again, every time homework was assigned to them and would shoot dirty looks at him every time he got better marks than her. He was finally fed up with this. Either she got her head out of her arse, or there really wasn't much to be said between them. While it was true that he had copied those instructions from the old Potions text book, he still did put in an honest effort into all his other classes.

Seeing the flash of guilt on her face, Harry said softly, 'I thought so.' He then turned around and left the room, absently removing the wards he had put up.

Once outside, he ducked out of sight. Taking out his cloak, he put it on and using the map, made his way towards the Room of Requirement.

He was sorely tempted to get the diadem there and then in the morning when the three of them were practising. However, he realised that this was too important. Nobody must know about this. Perhaps Harry was being overly paranoid, but he didn't even want his friends to even glimpse a Horcrux. And pocketing a strange piece of silver headwear that appeared in the middle of the room and that might or might not be recognised as a lost relic of one of the founders of the school at first glance would certainly draw a lot of stares if not questions. While Harry was certain that they wouldn't badger him about it, them looking at it was, in his opinion, a big risk. Especially given that Susan was the niece of the Minister of Magic.

Finding the hallway deserted, and checking with the Map just to make sure, Harry took off his cloak and closing his eyes, started pacing.

I need to see where Voldemort went ... I need to see where Voldemort went ... I need to see where Voldemort went.

Stopping the third time around, he opened his eyes expectantly, excitement coursing through him – Only to be disappointed at the blank stretch of wall in front of him.

Harry stood there pondering. Clearly the first instruction wasn't enough. He doubted any other variation would work.

Thinking of the fragment of memory that he had obtained from Voldemort's soul, he started pacing again.

I need to see the room of hidden things ... I need to see the room of hidden things ... I need to see the room of hidden things...

Opening his eyes, he felt a victorious grin creep across his face as he saw that the wall now contained a door. Heart hammering, he pushed it open. Now all he would have to do is get that diadem...

'Son of a –' he muttered a slew of curses under his breath as he took in his surroundings. 'Not only is the bloody room so big it probably has two different time zones. But noooo, it just has to be full of so much stuff.' He gave it another sweeping glare. Sighing, he started to plan.

Getting sudden inspiration, he flicked his wand out and holding it up intoned, 'Accio diadem!' while thinking about the object.

After a moment of nothing happening, he let his arm drop down in disappointment. 'Stupid Horcrux, with its stupid anti-summoning charms,' he grumbled as he glared at the veritable city of junk.

It looked like he would have to manually search for the damn thing. And judging by the size of the room, it could very well take days. Months even, thought Harry as he looked at the place. It would be easy to get lost. The place was like a maze.

A maze...

Hit with another epiphany and wondering why he hadn't thought of it before, Harry took his wand, placed it on the flat of his palm and said, 'Point me Horcrux.'

When the wand did nothing, Harry swore again. Wracking his brains, he tried again, 'Point me Ravenclaw's diadem.' Nothing. 'Point me diadem!'

This time, the wand spun around in a circle before coming to a rest to Harry's left.

'Ha! You can run, but you can't hide!' saying this to himself, Harry took off, cackling.

Half an hour later, Harry found his enthusiasm waning.

So far he had found three diadems in various states of disrepair, and none of them were anywhere close to looking like what he remembered the Ravenclaw's Diadem to look like. While the spell would point him in the direction of a diadem and had considerably made it easier to locate a diadem, finding said diadem amidst all that junk was a different matter altogether.

Sighing, he decided to call it quits for the day. It was getting late, and he couldn't afford people getting too suspicious about his disappearances. He also had a meeting to get to.

And so, a new task was added to Harry's ever growing list of tasks. In addition to rooting through what seemed to be the largest attic he had ever seen in his life, he had to train for his inevitable confrontation with Voldemort. Then he had to get the real memory from Slughorn. While Harry could just extract that memory from his own head and pass it off as Slughorn's memory, he did not want to risk the headmaster suspecting that it was not Horace Slughorn's memory. On top of that, he had his House Captain's duties to take care of which now included supervising Prep and the various study groups the fifth-years had started.

And on top of that, he had his class rankings to maintain and homework to turn in.

So by the time of the first Apparation class, Harry had only managed to go in search of the Horcrux twice. He was unsuccessful both times.

He wasn't the only one to be frustrated. After a week of huffy silence, Hermione had come wanting to make amends. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that nobody really wanted to talk to her. After he had hesitatingly accepted her apology, Harry decided to tell her about the task Dumbledore had given as a peace offering, even though he was overly formal with her. Like Ron, she had a partially sensible idea about how to get the memory from Slughorn. Hermione had also gone to the library in search of the term Horcruxes to sort of make amends. However, she found naught but a single sentence on the subject. Not that Harry expected anything more. The fact that she had managed to find that one sentence (even though it basically said nothing) was surprising in itself.

Hermione's researching spree got Harry wondering if the Black or Potter family library had any books on the subject. He doubted he would check though. The idea of splitting his very soul made him shudder.

The snow melted around the school as February arrived, to be replaced by cold, dreary wetness. Purplish-grey clouds hung low over the castle and a constant fall of chilly rain made the lawns slippery and muddy. The upshot of this was that the sixth years' first Apparition lesson, which was scheduled for a Saturday morning so that no normal lessons would be missed, took place in the Great Hall instead of in the grounds.

When Harry and Neville arrived in the Hall they found that the tables had disappeared. Rain lashed against the high windows and the enchanted ceiling swirled darkly above them as they assembled in front of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout — the Heads of Houses — and a small wizard whom Harry took to be the Apparition instructor from the Ministry. He was oddly colourless, with transparent eyelashes, wispy hair, and an insubstantial air, as though a single gust of wind might blow him away. Harry wondered whether constant disappearances and reappearances had somehow diminished his substance, or whether this frail build was ideal for anyone wishing to vanish.

'Good morning,' said the Ministry wizard, when all the students had arrived and the Heads of Houses had called for quiet. 'My name is Wilkie Twycross and I shall be your Ministry Apparition instructor for the next twelve weeks. I hope to be able to prepare you for your Apparition Tests in this time —'

'Malfoy, be quiet and pay attention!' barked Professor McGonagall.

Everybody looked around. Malfoy had flushed a dull pink; he looked furious as he stepped away from Crabbe, with whom he ap peared to have been having a whispered argument. Harry glanced quickly at Snape, who also looked annoyed, though Harry strongly suspected that this was less because of Malfoy's rudeness than the fact that McGonagall had reprimanded one of his House.

'— by which time, many of you may be ready to take your tests,' Twycross continued, as though there had been no interruption.

'As you may know, it is usually impossible to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts. The headmaster has lifted this enchantment, purely within the Great Hall, for one hour, to enable you to practice. May I emphasize that you will not be able to Apparate outside the walls of this Hall, and that you would be unwise to try.

'I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you.'

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banged into each other, and ordered others out of their space. The Heads of Houses moved among the students, marshalling them into position and breaking up arguments.

By the time the four Professors had called for order, Harry and his friends had managed to group up together. Looking around, Harry spotted Hermione and noticed that the girl was behind Malfoy and trying to eavesdrop on the conversation the blonde was having with Crabbe and Goyle. If she thought that Malfoy was going to say something important in such a public setting, then either she had been indulging in Billywig stings, or Malfoy was the worst evil spy in history.

'Thank you,' said Twycross. 'Now then …'

He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of every student.

'The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!' said Twycross. 'Destination, Determination, Deliberation!

'Step one: Fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination,' said Twycross. 'In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now.'

Everybody looked around furtively to check that everyone else was staring into their hoop, then hastily did as they were told. Harry gazed at the hoop in front of him lazily, noting that the elves really needed to clean the floor. It was in fact quite dusty.

'Step two,' said Twycross. 'Focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body!'

Mentally snorting at the instructions of the second step, (was the man on herbs?) Harry glanced around surreptitiously. A little way to his left, Ernie Macmillan was contemplating his hoop so hard that his face had turned pink; it looked as though he was straining to lay a Quaffle-sized egg. Harry bit back a laugh and hastily returned his gaze to his own hoop.

'Step three,' called Twycross, 'and only when I give the command … Turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation! On my command, now … one —'

Harry glanced around again; lots of people were looking positively alarmed at being asked to Apparate so quickly. He noticed that Seamus was looking at him interestingly. The minute he caught Harry's eye, the Irish boy hastily gazed back at his own hoop.

'— Two —'

Harry fixed his thoughts on his hoop now waiting for the last count.

'— THREE!'

The whole Hall was suddenly full of staggering people; Neville was flat on his back; Ernie Macmillan, on the other hand, had done a kind of pirouetting leap into his hoop and looked momentarily thrilled, until he caught sight of Dean Thomas roaring with laughter at him.

Dean stopped laughing when he saw Harry Disapparate and Apparate with nary a whisper.

'How extraordinary!' said Twycross in undisguised surprise. He clearly had not expected this. 'On your first try too!' gathering himself, he focused back on the other sixth-years who were all staring at Harry unabashedly. 'All right, adjust your hoops and try again!'

Twycross made Harry repeat his performance three times, and got even more excited when Harry showed that his first time wasn't a fluke. The other sixth-years on the other hand were not successful, except for Susan who had managed on her third try to Apparate to her hoop sans her left leg.

'Splinching, or the separation of random body parts,' said Wilkie Twycross dispassionately, 'occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continuously upon your destination, and move, without haste, but with deliberation … just like this young man here.' He pointed to Harry who blushed slightly at the attention he was receiving.

By the end of the class, Susan was the only person besides Harry who had managed to Apparate. Not that Twycross noticed. He was too caught up with Harry's story of consciously Apparating as a child before knowing about magic. Impressed, Twycross offered to set up an Apparation test for Harry as soon as possible after he was informed that it was true that Harry had been emancipated.

Today was not a good day for Draco Malfoy. Scratch that, life wasn't great for Draco. The blond Slytherin sighed as he held his throbbing head in one hand.

And to think that a few months before, when he had returned home from school, he was actually excited.

He very well remembered that day; it was slightly warm and sunny, hinting at two months of bliss where he would do nothing but lounge about in the large family estate, spending his days lazily drifting about on his broom with his friends, staying up late at night and then waking up again at the crack of noon to repeat the cycle, all the while plotting vengeance on Potter. Hopefully, by the end of the week, he would forget about what was going on outside.

Of course, all that had gone out of the window when he found out that he was there. And that he wanted to see Draco.

The Dark Lord had surveyed Draco with his red pitiless eyes before speaking in a smooth silky voice. He had reignited a fire in Draco's heart, spinning a story of how the wretched Ministry and that blasted Muggle-lover Dumbledore had managed to capture and imprison Draco's father. The Dark Lord had then asked Draco if he wanted vengeance. Draco remembered how fired up and passionate he had been when he replied with a whispered 'Yes.'

Hearing this, the Dark Lord's eyes lit up an inhuman red as a delighted smile graced his face. To Draco's surprise, the Dark Lord had then offered him a place within his ranks. Draco had not objected. Looking pleased by the news, the Dark Lord had asked his aunt Bella to train him.

Draco heard tales about his mother's sister, Bellatrix, which he initially thought them to be exaggerated. But after meeting her, he realised that those stories did not do the woman justice. Brilliant and powerful, his aunt would have been an excellent Defence professor in Hogwarts, if she wasn't psychotic, insane, loony, mad, stark raving nuts, or whatever synonym Draco could think of for "insane".

Draco both loved and hated those lessons. He loved them because his aunt was brilliant at teaching and made those lessons fun, when she was in the mood. He simultaneously hated them because of her unpredictable mood swings. He never knew what would suddenly make her violently angry and found himself walking on eggshells around her.

Then the day came when he was Marked by the Dark Lord. Draco remembered being proud that he was the first one of his peers, nay, the first in his generation to be bestowed with such an honour. His mother, however, wasn't too happy. He remembered how she begged him not to take the Mark.

He should have listened to her.

After the Dark Lord had Marked him, he gave Draco his first assignment as a Death Eater: To infiltrate Hogwarts and kill Dumbledore.

Draco had been ecstatic. Now was his time! He would kill the barmy old codger and the Malfoys would regain the Dark Lord's favour and become his lieutenants in the new order. He was proud that the Dark Lord thought him capable to carry out such an important task that would go a long way in furthering their goals.

Draco had not listened to his mother's fears. He did not share his mother's assertion that it would be an extremely difficult task. After all, he knew of one easy way to get the mission done. He remembered Montague's story about being lost in the Vanishing Cabinet. A bit of research had supported his deduction that the cabinet in fact had a twin and that one could travel between cabinets. All he would need to do was to locate the other one, repair the one in Hogwarts and voilà; there was a ready-made method of ingress into Dumbledore's fortress, neatly bypassing both the ancient and the newly set up wards.

The Dark Lord had praised him on the plan and used his sources to locate the twin.

Borgin was more than easy to coerce into helping.

Thinking that the plan was already well under way, Draco departed for Hogwarts in high spirits. By the end of September, he would have the cabinet repaired and Dumbledore would meet his end. He had personally guaranteed this to his master.

Things had gone off smoothly at first; the cabinet was easily found in one of the storage rooms the old squib used. It was then transported with Crabbe and Goyle's help to the special room located on the seventh floor, the same room that Potter had used the last year for his illegal defence club. With the cabinet secured, he then stole into Hogsmeade, using one of the passages a Death Eater had told him about and got lucky when he nearly ran into Madame Rosmerta.

She never saw that Imperius curse coming.

Draco not only used her to establish a line of communication between him and Borgin, but as a celebration had lost his virginity with the older woman, who turned out to be not only highly susceptible to the curse, but also really great in bed.

All in all, Draco felt like a suave spy, an Unspeakable. Just like in his favourite set of books, The Adventures of Unspeakable Bennet. The fact that he had knowledge that the others were unaware of really excited him.

But then things started to go downhill. Draco soon found out that talking about repairing the cabinet was different from actually doing the repairs. The Vanishing Cabinet was so broken that he did not know where to start. It was then that he had first realised that he was in over his head.

Needless to say, Dumbledore was still alive and kicking by the end of September. Naturally the Dark Lord had not been pleased. Draco had been summoned almost immediately by his master where in the confines of his very own living room, with his own mother watching, he had been given his first dose of the Cruciatus Curse.

After ten minutes filled with doses of the Cruciatus Curse and being humiliated in front of the other Death Eaters in his own home, the Dark Lord had then loomed over a panting and (not that he would admit it) crying Draco. Leaning over him, his master cruelly smiled and, in a soft voice unheard by the others in the room, promised to kill his parents should Draco not complete the mission given to him by the end of the school year. And before Draco had time to respond, the Dark Lord had him dumped in the Forbidden Forest a mile away from Hogwarts.

Draco had developed a pathological fear of the Forest ever since that detention in his first year. And so, being dumped there with his body still twitching from the after-effects of the Cruciatus Curse in the middle of the night was nothing but cruel.

Draco still didn't know how he had made it back to the school and to his bed without being detected.

Now, desperate to have Dumbledore dead, he then contacted Borgin and bought the cursed necklace he remembered from second year using Rosmerta.

However, that plan was a disaster as well. While it was more than easy to Imperius the girl, Draco had not considered on one important fact: when the Imperius was cast on another person by a victim of the same curse, the curse lost some of its power. While that did not matter if the person was susceptible to the curse, the subtlety of the curse was gone. That meant that anybody close to the victim could tell there was something wrong.

So it was natural that the Imperiused girl was found out. What was worse, however, was the public way in which she was exposed.

Draco was surprised that he felt horrified by the thought that he had killed another person. Hearing about how the girl had spent three days battling the curse on the necklace before finally succumbing left him devastated.

However, that wasn't the worst of his worries. For the Dark Lord had summoned him again. And the Dark Lord was not pleased. Draco's plan had backfired so spectacularly it had the school nearly closing down. The end effect was that Hogwarts became even more of a fortress and the Hogsmeade weekends cancelled making further rendezvous more risky. This near disaster had the dark wizard spitting nails, as a closed Hogwarts meant a freer Dumbledore, and a freer Dumbledore was a dangerous thing for the Dark Side.

This time, Draco was not cursed. The Dark Lord had decided, as he said with a cruel smirk, that things would look suspicious if his little Death Eater returned to school showing clear signs of exposure to significant torture, so had elected to spare Draco the suffering. However, as she rarely stepped outside the manor, his mother was fair game. Draco was forced to watch as his mother was subjected to curse after torturous curse in front of his very own eyes. His mum had been brave, but eventually the proud woman had given in. Draco would never forget the screams. He now knew that his master was serious when he threatened to kill Draco's parents.

Due to this, Draco started doubling his efforts. Before he used to spend every night in the Room, now he practically lived there, not coming out for days at a time. His marks suffered as a result and he lost a lot of weight as he had stopped eating regularly and his skin had turned a grey hue due to the lack of sunlight.

And while he did not have the Dark Lord and his now increasingly difficult mission to contend with, he also had the good fortune to have attracted the suspicions of the Blood-Traitor Weasley and that bushy haired Mudblood bint Granger. Both of them had taken it upon themselves to start tailing him.

Initially, Draco was amused by their bumbling attempts at stealth. A troll was stealthier than they could ever hope to be. He even nicknamed them the "clumsy couple". He was surprised though that Potter hadn't joined them. Of course, that was before he found out that Potter was actually enjoying life and not bothering with anything other than schoolwork and Quidditch.

Unfortunately, after the fiasco of the first Hogsmeade incident, the duo had upped the ante. And soon, not only was Draco forced to finish with his repairs as soon as possible, but do it without raising suspicion or tipping the Clumsy Couple as to what he was doing and where it was he was going. And to do that, he not only had to avoid his annoying Gryffindor tails, but he also had to stay under the sneakoscopes of everyone in the castle. And that meant attending classes and doing homework.

When he had returned home for the winter holidays, he had spent every waking moment under intense training from the Lestranges, whom he had been shocked to find broken out of prison along with his father. Apparently the Dark Lord had decided that they had suffered long enough. Draco did not know how, but the Dark Lord had managed to fool the wizarding authorities and the public into thinking that the captured Death Eaters were still in Azkaban. While he had been happy to lay eyes on his father for the first time in nearly a year, he was shocked to see the sadness in the man's eyes when he saw his son in Death Eater robes.

When he finally managed to meet his father privately for a few precious moments, he understood why. It turned out that his father had used one of the Dark Lord's personal possessions to open the Chamber of Secrets in second year without his master's express permission. Because of this, along with his failure at the Ministry and rumours he had heard, Lucius believed that Draco's task and induction was done to exact revenge and punish Lucius for what he had done. Lucius had also shared with his son the fact that the Dark Lord expected Draco to die carrying out his task.

This revelation had stopped Draco cold. To think that his wise and all powerful master was so cruel and heartless to send a person on a suicide mission, that the same Dark Lord, who spouted off about the importance of Pure Blood would be so willing to eradicate an entire Pure Blood family over an enchanted diary scared him. Draco was many things, but suicidal was not one of them.

It was this, along with the amount of torture Draco had observed done to his brethren that had shown the true nature of the man, no, the monster, which was residing in his home. The same monster he had joined. The Dark Lord was nothing but a power hungry old man who showed the same amount of mercy towards his followers as he did to his enemies. And that was none. Draco now understood what his mother had been trying to tell him all those months back.

Not that he had a choice. He doubted that he ever did have a choice. No, the only thing left to do would be to complete this heavy task, and hope for success, as anything else could very well mean the end of the Malfoy line.

There was no one he could go to. No allies he could call upon. Sure Crabbe and Goyle were there and willing, (not that they understood what Draco was up to) but they really weren't that competent. Pansy and the rest of his acquaintances in Slytherin were not in the loop, and Draco wanted to spare them the knowledge that they would be aiding a murder. Professor Snape wasn't to be trusted. No matter what the man said or the claims he made, Draco did not trust him. The boy knew that he was the Dark Lord's most trusted spy, and was also close to Dumbledore at the same time. Because of this, he wasn't sure if the man would betray him to Dumbledore or the Dark Lord. For all he knew the spy was only offering his assistance on the Dark Lord's orders to give the Dark Lord an excuse to kill him.

Of course, Draco did have the option of defecting to the Light. However, he knew that Dumbledore could be just as ruthless as the Dark Lord. After all, Dumbledore was the only one the Dark Lord ever feared. There had to be a reason for that. Draco also doubted that Dumbledore would be willing or able to protect his family from the Dark Lord, considering that the Dark Lord resided in Malfoy Manor. He had heard stories from his father of how much the old man opposed the Malfoys and how hard the old mage had tried to get his father and grandfather imprisoned after the First Wizarding War.

So here he was; Draco Malfoy, incapable of protecting his family, incapable of repairing a simple broken Vanishing Cabinet, incapable of making the right choices and barely capable of loosing Granger and Weasley. A screw up, that's what he was: plain and simple.

Draco sighed as he got up. He had wasted enough time reminiscing. He had to get back to work. Looking around, he sighed again when he couldn't find Crabbe or Goyle. He did not have the time to go looking for those two nincompoops, nor did he have the time to take the night off. He would have to risk it. He ran his hand through his hair and grimaced when he noticed quite a few loose strands in his hand. The fact that the stress had caused him to start balding at the age of sixteen (he noticed his hair thinning just yesterday when he first managed to get a proper glimpse of himself in a mirror) just depressed him more.

Picking up his wand, he wearily headed up towards the Room of Requirement.

'Oh for crying out-' Harry finished his sentence with an irritated and annoyed blasting curse aimed at the jewelled piece of headwear in front of him, destroying it completely. This was the fifteenth diadem he had found in the room, and like the previous fourteen, wasn't just damaged and worthless, but more importantly, not Ravenclaw's diadem.

'Heaven forbid if finding the Horcrux was easy,' Harry muttered sarcastically as he uttered the Point Me Spell again. Still grumbling, he set off in the latest direction.

Nearly a month had passed. And all he had to show for it was fifteen destroyed useless coronets, and probably ten kilograms of accumulated dust and dirt.

Wiping the sweat from his grimy forehead, Harry consulted the map the Room had graciously provided and walked down the latest alleyway of junk, making sure to mark his way. It wouldn't do to get lost in this place.

Entering the room, Draco made his way to where the cabinet was. As he journeyed in, he noticed something that stopped him in his tracks. For on a broken cupboard on his left, was a yellow paint smear.

Someone had been here. And judging by the fresh look of the smear, they were here recently and might have still been around and possibly heading towards the cabinet. Draco's mind immediately went towards his two tails. It would be very bad if they somehow found out about the room and the cabinet.

Heart hammering, he drew his wand and started moving slowly. Absently he cursed for not having the foresight to bring those useful products the Weasel's elder twin brothers had made. The irony of using it on their younger sibling would have been really sweet. Draco grudgingly admitted that they were brilliant. It seems that the youngest two of the family were the only empty headed ones. Although the parents seemed to be slightly dim too.

Hearing footsteps ahead, he stealthily made his way forward, absently running through the "training" (which really was just an excuse the other Death Eaters used to take out all their frustrations and failures out on him) that had been drilled into his skull.

Peering around the elbow of the enormous stuffed troll that he had placed as a landmark, he saw not the Clumsy Couple, but Potter. Immediately hate began to well up in him. While he no longer blamed him for his father being imprisoned, Draco still hated Potter. Potter had everything. A carefree life, fame, the ear of the headmaster... And what was worse was that Draco could have been there next to him. Only Potter had to take Weasley in. The situation his family found themselves in was all Potter's fault. Well, it was Potter – Black now, (Draco, like the rest of the school, had heard about the contract) but to him he would always be Potter. Draco observed the dark haired boy (his cousin he realised with a horrified jolt). He was a bit farther away and he looked to be searching for something. Suddenly, Potter stopped looking around as a look of triumph and excitement came on his face. Giving out a triumphant 'Aha,' the boy started walking forward.

Right. Towards. The. Cabinet.

Draco's eyes widened in panic: Potter must not get to that cabinet. He had no idea how Potter had found out about it, but that did not matter right now. What mattered was keeping that cabinet safe.

Raising his hand he carefully aimed his wand at Potter's back and sent out a silent body-bind curse.

And that, ladies and gentlemen (and people who are still confused about it) is Chapter 24! A chapter I am really happy about ... why, you ask? Because it's my first cliffhanger! Isn't that lovely? I am positively bursting with pride!

*Author takes a moment to grin toothily at the computer screen*

Anyway, read and review!

By the way, a happy New Year ... I know that it isn't the first of January, but as far as the Hindus are concerned, today is the first day of the new year (according to the lunar calendar at least) ... and since I am one, I thought I would share the joy! Oh, and Happy Diwali as well! Can't forget Diwali, it is quite important...

Cheers!

25. An Unlikely Alliance

Wow, so many reviews! I should consider putting more cliffhangers ... they seem to generate quite a few of them...

Monotony: That one word adequately described his job and his life, Charon reflected as he lay back in his office one night. Then again, he would take monotony over the cold despair and hopelessness that was there every day ever since he took up the job until last year: lingering just outside his office and his mental shields, waiting for the chance to break through and take over.

Being the warden of Azkaban prison was not easy. While Charon would wished he had taken up a different job, the reality was that the post was hereditary. Thanks to a pact made between one of his ancestors and the tenth Duke of Azkaban, the eldest son of the family had to look after the prison ever since it was built and given over to the Ministry of Magic for use. Thanks to the twisted sense of humour of the Duke, the wardens were all known as Charon. So while Charon was not born with such an unfortunate name (and was, in fact, named Gregory at birth), he had to bear the name and all that it entailed ever since his elder brother, Charon, died in a tragic accident at the age of fourteen.

Of course, being Charon wasn't all bad. The pay was good enough and the accommodation opulent. The office he was sitting in was a prime example. Large and roomy with a massive desk in the centre that faced a fireplace large enough to fit five grown men standing side by side comfortably. The house (and the property surrounding it) that his family lived in was far away from the prison under ancient blood wards. These wards not only prevented the wretched creatures that had been pressed into service by the Ministry into guarding the prison from getting to them, but prevented the spread of their collective malaise, making it a relatively happier place to have a family.

However, all that did not prevent the feeling of depression and dread Charon felt hanging in the air when going to work. Charon had to ensure that the mental shields that were the result of the unique Occlumency skills developed by his family were at full strength every time he passed through the gates of the prison. Once inside, he was thankful for the Patronus wards that kept the Dementors at bay. But the depression and despair would always somehow manage to sneak in. Perhaps it was the weather, perhaps it was the fact that the prison was pretty drab, or perhaps the wards were weakening. But there always was a sense of gloom about the place which did not leave with the creatures.

At least this meant that the wards weren't weakening (fat load of good that did).

Charon was happy at least that the prison was in good running order. It was properly and adequately staffed by Hit Wizards, and so far he did not have any reason to press the panic button calling in reinforcements from the Ministry should the prison be besieged despite the fact that You Know Who had risen again and was terrorising the wizarding world and eleven of his greatest supporters were currently languishing in the high security wing.

Still he could not help but feel dread every time he thought of Malfoy and his ilk. There was something wrong about how they were sitting there placidly. Charon kept having indistinct dreams of flashes of light and the harsh sounds of battle that never failed to wake him up in the middle of the night, panting as if he had run a mile.

Something was definitely wrong. Only a few of the guards showed any enthusiasm about going to the wing. And he did not blame them since he also felt the same apprehension about even thinking of going there.

Perhaps his soon to be arriving guest would be able to shed some light on these strange occurrences. He sat up expectantly as the yellow flames turned green.

'Chief warlock!' he greeted the tall wizard that stepped out of the fireplace. 'I hope things are going well?'

'Ah, Gregory, yes, things are fine. How are you today?' the old wizard asked solicitously.

'Can't complain,' Charon said. The one thing he loved about his old headmaster was the fact that he was one of the few that remembered or used his old name.

'Well I hate to cut this short, but time is of the essence...'

'I understand, sir,' Charon said with a nod. 'The prisoner is waiting for you in room three. Just like the previous one. Although, I do not know what you could possibly get from it. The elf has been quite insane for a while now. It is a miracle that it has survived so long.'

'I believe that it is the house-elf magic working. Their minds aren't quite like ours...' Dumbledore trailed off thoughtfully. 'Anyway, we both have things to do, so if you please...?'

'Sure thing, sir,' Charon got up from his desk and escorted the elderly mage from his office. He did not mention that, of late, things had been rather quiet, meaning that he had little to do. For one, the number of people coming in had reduced. At first, there was on average a new prisoner per day. Now there was only an occasional prisoner. It seemed that Scrimgeour had lost some of his zeal. A good thing too, because if that rate continued, Charon was sure that the prison would be full by now.

They finally reached their destination. With a tap of his wand, Charon undid the locks. Nodding at him, The Chief Warlock entered the room, closing the door behind him.

As the door closed, Charon remembered that he had something he needed to tell the headmaster. Something about the uneasy feeling he was getting of late about the high security prisoners. Oh well, he could still mention it when the headmaster was done with the elf.

About an hour later, Charon returned to the room as requested, knocking on the door. The door opened to reveal an exhausted –looking Dumbledore.

'I hope you got the information that you came for, Chief Warlock?' Charon asked.

'Not yet,' Dumbledore replied wearily as they made their way back to their office. 'But I still have hope, so I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to set up another appointment with the elf the next week.'

'You are the Chief Warlock, sir.' Charon replied with a shrug of his shoulders. 'You may come and go any time as you please. After all, you do have the authority.'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'True, true ... however, Charon, it is your prison.' His eyes twinkled as he glanced at the younger man.

'Same time, same place next week, then, sir?' Charon asked as they reached his office.

'Indeed, have a good evening, Gregory.' With that, Dumbledore stepped into the fireplace and left in a whoosh of green flame.

'Damn it! I wanted to speak to him about something!' the warden said to himself as he saw the last of the green flame die down and the fire return to its normal yellow-orange. 'Oh well, perhaps next time ...' he shrugged as he went back to his paperwork.

Tiredly walking down the junk-bordered pathway, Harry noticed a faint glimmer in the distance just after the broken vanishing cabinet that Montague had been stuffed in last year. Squinting, he saw that it was part of a diadem sticking out. The discovery of the previous fakes had not diminished the feeling of excitement Harry felt upon seeing this. Letting out a triumphant cry, he started forward, tucking his wand in its holster. He seriously hoped that this was the one. While he knew logically that the Horcrux was somewhere here in this room, he couldn't help but feel that something had happened to it. After all, it had been a long time since Riddle had last placed the diadem in the room. Anything could have happened to it by then. It could have been moved, or somebody else could have taken it for any reason whatsoever. If that happened ... then suffice to say, Harry would be in very hot water.

During the day, Harry had managed to keep up appearances by immersing himself in training and school life. This kept the reality that was looming in front of him out of his mind. However, when the sun finally set, when the assignments were done and his friends had retired for the night, when he was alone in his bed, the pessimism set in as he thought about what lay in store for him. He was stuck between two powerful wizards (he might as well call them both Dark Lords) who both wanted him dead for some reason or the other. What was worse was that he was all alone, while both Dumbledore and Voldemort had their followers and influence to help them along. Sure there was Neville, Susan, Hannah and Hermione and Ron (while he had become distant from the last two, he still counted on them). But what could a bunch of schoolchildren do against either of the two? It all came down to him. Prophecy had destined him to end one Dark Lord, and circumstance the other.

His only hope right now was finding that thrice – cursed diadem, a founder's relic, Rowena Ravenclaw's greatest invention. An artefact that had disappeared from the history books suddenly a few months before the death of the founder. A month had nearly gone by and he had not found it yet. He was growing desperate. He had started to spend more time in the room, either training like a maniac or spending hours on end searching the Junk Room for the diadem. While he felt fine now, he knew that it would be a matter of time before the lack of sleep caught up to him. As it was, keeping up with his regular timetable was getting harder and harder. He always felt that he had forgotten something. And while Occlumency was helping, he couldn't help but feel his temper getting shorter and shorter to the point that even the smallest of things was beginning to annoy him. It was only a matter of time before he completely lost it publicly. He was becoming rougher when duelling with Neville and Susan. If they noticed it, they hadn't really mentioned anything yet.

Suddenly he jumped to the left, crashing into some detritus, causing the spell that he sensed coming to him to brush by.

Calling his wand back to his hand, Harry extricated himself from the junk. He looked intently at the direction the spell came from as he rolled his throbbing shoulder. Spotting a shock of white-blonde hair near a stuffed troll, he called out, 'You might as well come out now, Malfoy. Your glow-in-the-dark hair makes it ridiculously easy to spot you.' As he said this, his blood started pumping as some of the anger started to surface. He wanted a fight. And it looked like Malfoy was willing to oblige.

Seeing Potter jump out of the spell's path at the last second had Draco momentarily stunned. Regaining his wits, he ducked behind the troll, hoping he was fast enough.

Apparently his hopes were not to be realised. Draco's eye twitched at the mocking tone. The quip about his hair reminded him about its current condition and that just made him angrier. Letting all the frustration of the past few months build up, Draco spun out of the troll with an incoherent war cry. He'll show Potter all right. Let's see what saint Potter makes of a dueller who has been trained by the best Death Eaters was the savage thought going through his mind.

Harry grinned savagely when Draco spun out of the troll yelling at the top of his voice. It looked like the blonde was rather touchy about his hair. What a poof. Harry found himself looking forward to this fight. It would give him a chance to wipe the smirk off that pompous arsehole in front of him. The blonde picked the wrong person to fight with!

Harry dodged the first spell gracefully, coming very close to the rubbish opposite to where he had crashed into. Absently he noticed that the spell that nearly hit him was a leg – locker. A few seconds later, he sidestepped to his right, giving ample room for Malfoy's second spell to pass by. Standing in place, he just inclined his head to the left to avoid the third jet of light. From what he had learnt from his many training sessions, Slytherin's journals and from Voldemort's techniques, in a duel, it was better to use minimal movements. Why block a curse when it is safer to dodge it? And why bother diving out of the path of a spell when you can just as easily achieve the same result by taking a step?

Making a show of looking at the last curse that passed by, Harry turned back and said cruelly, 'Is that all you got, Blondie? Merlin, are you slow!'

Said Blondie snarled and hurled another volley of silent hexes curses and jinxes at Harry, this time at a much faster rate. Laughing with a vicious delight, and unknowingly reminding Malfoy of his aunt, Harry pirouetted gracefully to the left, avoiding the first spell. Brandishing his wand, he batted away the next three spells with ease as he moved backwards. Malfoy was fast, but not fast enough. 'That's more like it!' Harry taunted as the last spell pinged off high towards the right. He bared his teeth. 'You nearly got me there! But you really have to do better than that!'

By that time, they had moved into the centre of the room where the alleyways bordered by the accumulated rubbish of many centuries converged forming a square of sorts, with a large headless statue forming the centrepiece. With a snarled, 'Fight back, Potter!' Malfoy started casting more serious curses. However, in his rage, Malfoy's aim had become sloppy. Soon Harry barely needed to doge out of the way.

'Ooooh, that nearly got me,' said Harry with heavy sarcasm as a blasting curse took out the large headless statue that was a few paces to his left.

Draco had finally reached the end of his line. Pissed off beyond all reasoning, he pointed his wand at Harry and summoning all the hatred, rage and frustration he had, bellowed his first verbal spell. 'Crucio!'

Holding his wand like a conductor's baton, Harry flicked his wrist to the side, aiming his wand at a heavy stained chest at his left. With another flick, he brought the furniture flying in the path of the oncoming curse. Without wasting any time, he fluidly moved his wand anti – clockwise, banishing the shrapnel created as the object exploded upon contact with the curse. Jabbing his wand forward, he cast a low powered stunner followed by an overpowered disarming charm.

Seeing the sharp heavy wooden fragments heading towards him, Draco hastily called up the strongest shield that he could manage putting a good amount of his flagging power and a lot of desperation behind it. The shield held up to the shrapnel. However, it did not do so well against the stunner, breaking upon impact and pushing Draco back a few steps. Slightly winded, Draco was not in any shape to do anything about the disarming charm that closely followed the heels of the stunner.

Harry watched with a slight amusement the expression on Draco's face before the blonde was blown backwards off his feet as his wand was ripped out of his hand. The blonde landed with a thump on the floor, skidding for a few feet on his back before coming to a rest at the entrance of an alleyway with a groan.

Draco watched in shock as Potter absently caught his pin-wheeling wand while shooting him an arrogant smirk. He had trained, and trained hard over the holidays with one of the best duellists in the Dark Lord's ranks. Despite that, he had been beaten by Potter of all people. Potter, who he had noticed, had done nothing throughout the entire school year but sail through classes and goof off. Not only had Potter beaten him, but Draco realised that the other boy was toying with him. It meant that he really had no chance. Those spells had come to him so fast...

The fact that he was beaten by a regular bloke despite being trained so rigorously was the last straw. He felt the hopelessness well up...

Harry gave a superior look at his downed enemy raising his wand, as he debated on following up with a flame whip or his favourite lightning curse. His pulse quickened further sending him on a high as he felt the first stirrings of bloodlust. 'That was easy! You know, Blondie, Neville was -' he stopped mid-gloat when he heard a sniff coming from Malfoy.

'Oh dear Merlin,' said Harry softly to himself in horror. While he had great fun bringing the poncy git down a peg or two, seeing the blonde actually lying on the floor crying (and not the manly-type crying but the full on Cho level crying) was just... He had no words to describe it.

Suddenly the feeling of bloodlust was replaced by guilt. Even though Malfoy was a ponce, a foul git, the son of a Death Eater and would have loved to see Harry suffer, he was not the source of Harry's problems. Harry briefly wondered if he had gone too far, before dismissing the thought. He had only used a stunner, a banisher and the disarming charm. He hadn't given into the bloodlust even though he was close (not that he did not feel guilty about that).

And I thought Cho crying on me was awkward, he thought as he saw the blonde blubbing in front of him. Somehow, he felt like he had punched a little girl in the mouth and pushed her to the ground. Shuffling forward awkwardly, he sat down next to Malfoy (after performing a detection spell on the sniffling boy – can't be too careful).

'Oh, come on, mate,' Harry said softly as he awkwardly patted the sobbing boy on his back. 'It isn't so bad ... all you need is a little more practise ... we can have a rematch later if you want...' Not that it would stop him from giving it his all and winning. And later on showing the git all the neat spells he had learnt. 'Don't cry...'

Between many loud sniffs, Malfoy muttered, 'You don't get it,' before fresh tears broke out.

'Then why don't you tell me?' said Harry, the guilt making his voice low and soft. Merlin is this awkward, he thought as he reluctantly put his arm around Malfoy's shoulders, coming to the epiphany that he much preferred holding a crying Daphne than a crying Malfoy. He looked at the boy properly. Up close, Harry could see that Malfoy looked really sickly, as if he hadn't been eating or sleeping well for the past few months. Harry wondered if the boy was depressed. It certainly looked like he was on the verge of committing suicide. Oh great, more guilt.

Draco couldn't help himself. It had been too long since someone had offered him comfort. He soon found himself leaning into Potter's shoulder as the sobbing became louder. Normally he would have been horrified that he was not only blubbering like a baby, but being held and comforted by his arch – nemesis, and more importantly, a bloke. But right now, he couldn't care less. As Potter started rubbing soothing circles on his back, Draco found the burden on his shoulders too much to bear.

Harry was outwardly calm as he listened to Draco confess everything. Inwardly, he felt a sort of hope well up in him. Draco could help with his Dumbledore problem. At the very least, Harry wouldn't need to increase the intensity of his Room generated duelling sessions. While he felt that he could cope with it for now, he knew that in reality he was slowly burning himself out. But if he helped Malfoy, then he wouldn't have much fighting to do!

After spending a femtosecond acknowledging that Ron and Hermione were right about Draco, Harry started scheming.

Draco fell silent after finishing his story. He was too spent to care about the ramifications of spilling all his secrets to the enemy. All he cared about was the lightness he felt at finally letting go. His body tensed as he waited for Potter to react. He did not want to fight anymore. He no longer had the will to do so.

'You know, we are quite alike, you and I,' said Harry idly as he looked into the distance.

Surprised by this statement, Draco pulled away and asked thickly, 'What do you mean?'

'Well, the both of us have been sent on suicide missions. Saddled with the task of killing wizards far more powerful and experienced than we could ever hope to be. Also ironically, the both of us have been manipulated into these tasks by each other's targets.' He paused as he realised the full truth of his statement.

Draco immediately stopped sniffing and surreptitiously wiping his eyes as the full impact of Potter's words hit him. 'Wait, are you implying what I think you're implying?' He said with a mix of derision and incredulity in his voice. 'I mean, I know Dumbledore is barmy and a Muggle lover, but he cannot be like the Dark Lord!'

Harry laughed hollowly. 'You'd think so, wouldn't you? I don't blame you ... I used to think the same. Then my eyes were opened. Dumbledore does a good job of keeping his true nature hidden from the rest of the world.'

Draco was speechless when he saw the face of his arch rival as Harry let his mask slip for a moment. The expression on the Gryffindor's face was eerily similar to how he felt at times. He didn't have much longer to wonder about that as the mask quickly came back on. 'The way I see it, Malfoy, both of us are in a similar predicament. So here's your choice. Either we do nothing and go our separate ways, or we help each other out. I help you in your task, and you help me with mine.'

'How do I know that this isn't some sort of a trick? How do I know that you aren't doing this so you can turn me in or something?' Malfoy said suspiciously.

'A trick?' said Harry incredulously. 'Malfoy, I have your wand. I have my wand right up my sleeve just a thought away from being summoned. In other words, I am armed, and you aren't. If I really wanted to turn you in, I think I would have done it already. After all, I am more than capable of taking you down! Not to mention that I had a lot of opportunities from the time I disarmed you until now.'

'You have a point,' the other boy said grudgingly. He looked at his school rival. In their conversation, the two had moved so that they were now sitting opposite each other. When he thought about it, there really wasn't any reason for Potter to trick him. Not when the Gryffindor had him at his mercy. Hope started to blossom in his chest. Perhaps he had found an ally. The irony that his potential ally was his biggest school enemy wasn't lost on him.

'You make another good point, Potter. But how do I know that you won't turn on me?' Malfoy replied after appearing to be thinking about it. 'I don't really trust you.'

'And it would be monumentally moronic of you to do so, Malfoy.' Harry replied. 'And if it makes you feel any better, I don't trust you either. So I propose a magical oath. That way, none of us can betray the other.'

'How about an Unbreakable Vow?' Malfoy said challengingly.

They stared at each other for a few long seconds. 'Fine,' said Harry finally after thinking about it. 'But I want to see the oath before swearing to it.

'I was going to suggest that actually,' Malfoy sniffed, taking out a shrunken roll of parchment and quill, quickly regaining his haughtiness. Although the effect was spoiled by the red eyes and leaking nose.

'What?' said Harry with faux innocence after a moment of watching Malfoy stare at him meaningfully.

'May I have my wand back, please, Potter?' Malfoy finally said through gritted teeth.

'Your wand? Oh yes, for the shrinking charm!' said Harry brightly. 'Why didn't you say something before? You know, you'd get a lot more done if you articulated instead of staring at me like you were constipated, Malfoy...'

Eye twitching, Malfoy accepted the wand from a grinning Harry. Draco was momentarily tempted to hex the Gryffindor in front of him, but then he noticed the wand discreetly pointed at him by the other boy who still had a maddening grin on his face.

Sniffing, Draco wrote down a few lines on the parchment with his self-inking quill. Then with a martyred air, he placed his wand in his pocket and handed the parchment to Harry, half expecting the other boy to get riled up at the wording.

Smirking, Harry read the parchment while watching his cousin out of the corner of his eye, his wand still trained on the blonde.

'Not bad ... cousin,' said Harry finally. 'It seems that you can be honourable after all.'

Draco flinched at the mention of the familial connexion shared. 'I am glad you think so, cousin.' He fairly sneered at the last word, surprised that the Gryffindor had not taken offence to the wording. It definitely meant that Potter did not worship the ground Dumbledore walked on. He wondered what had changed...

Harry just rolled his eyes and, brandishing his wand, shifted forward till he was kneeling in front of Draco, 'Now, if you please?'

Draco also shifted forward till he was mirroring Harry's position. Clasping his wand in his left hand, the he gripped Harry's right hand.

'Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to aid me, Harry James Potter in my quest to rid the world of your master, Voldemort also known as Tom Marvolo Riddle?'

'I do,' said Draco flinching reflexively at the feared name being uttered. Immediately a thin tongue of brilliant flame snaked out of Harry's wand and wound around the clasped hands.

Taking this as his cue, Draco spoke up. 'Do you, Harry James Potter – Black, swear to aid me, Draco Lucius Malfoy in my quest to rid the world of your master, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?'

'I do,' said Harry quietly. Another tongue of flame burst out, this time from Draco's wand. It wound itself around the first rope of flame, forming a fine chain that circled their hands.

'And do you swear that we shall not speak of this Vow to anybody without the express permission of the other?' Harry concluded.

'I do,' Draco was initially surprised, but decided to agree to this. He should have thought of that. Both their wands shot out a tongue of flame. Winding with each other, they then knitted with the first two tongues of flame till it looked like their wrists were bound by a thick rope of fire.

As soon as the rope sank into their skin, the two unclasped each other's hands and scrambled back to their spots, looking at their hands. The enormity of what they had done slowly sinking into their minds.

Looking at his new ally of sorts, Harry said, 'Well, I think this calls for some celebration.'

With a flick of his wand, he summoned a bottle of firewhiskey from his cellar. Opening it, he took a swig and handed it to Malfoy.

Giving Harry a look of deep disgust, Malfoy conjured a glass of his own and poured himself a drink. 'Philistine,' he muttered.

'Poncy git,' Harry shot back, taking a pointed swig from the bottle. He hummed in pleasure as he felt the drink burn down his throat.

'At least you have some taste Potter,' Malfoy said after taking a sip of the whiskey. 'I half expected swill to be honest.'

'Please, since we are conspirators now, call me Harry.' Harry said with humour. 'Also, we are cousins. Unless, of course, if you'd rather prefer "Potter-Black"?' he smirked arrogantly.

Draco just sniffed as he took another sip of his drink.

In short time, the alcohol had worked its magic and had dissolved any lingering barriers between the two former enemies. In short order, they were nearly done their first bottle when Harry decided to summon two more bottles.

'I have a question, Harry,' slurred Draco as he took the bottle from the other boy (the glass lay on its side forgotten). Pausing to take a swig, he continued. 'What do you plan to do ... you know ... after?'

Harry, feeling a buzz himself, replied with a question of his own. 'After?'

'Yes, after!' said Draco as he gestured around them with the bottle. 'After, after all this is over?' he looked at Harry meaningfully.

'I dunno Draco.' Harry snatched the bottle from the blonde and took a swig. 'I think I'll settle down. Marry ... have kids ... play some Quidditch ... maybe buy a deserted island and move in there.' he smiled vacantly as he stared off into the distance.

Draco snorted as he took the bottle back. 'Sounds bloody boring to me mate. Moving in with Greengrass and living with her all alone?' he suddenly broke into giggles before subsiding. Taking a swig, he said gravely. 'But seriously, Potter ... Harry ... once we kill those old tossers, we won't be pawns anymore. We'll have reached the other end of the board. You honestly don't mean to tell me that you aren't going to take the promotion.' He handed the bottle back to Harry.

Harry accepted the bottle with a belched 'thanks'.

'You have a point,' he said after a while. Taking a sip, he pondered on Draco's sentence further. 'Yeah, becoming the queen would be a good idea. That way, nobody can mess with us again!'

'Didn't know you were into dressing up, Potter!' said Draco giggling. He suddenly gave a hiccup, causing Harry to start laughing at him.

'You know what I mean, you prat!' said Harry. Holding the bottle up, he realised that the bottle was empty. Shrugging, he set it aside next to the first one and turned his attention to the remaining two. Selecting one, he opened it. Taking a long drink from the bottle, he smacked his lips in satisfaction. Not being able to hold his thoughts in anymore, he blurted out, 'You know, this whole mess wouldn't have started without those damn Muggles!'

'What do you mean,' said Draco looking at him curiously.

Were Harry sober, he wouldn't have blurted out the previous sentence. After all, he was in Gryffindor and most of his housemates had some familial connexion to Muggle world. During the summer, when he had gone out at night, Harry had controlled his alcoholic intake to ensure that nothing slipped out inadvertently when he was among the Muggles. However, here, not only was he well on the way to being piss drunk (not that he wasn't pissed already) but there wasn't anybody within earshot who could take offence at what he had said, or was about to say. 'Well, without those Muggles, Tom Riddle wouldn't have been seduced by a squib and Tommy junior wouldn't have daddy issues. Then Voldemort wouldn't have existed, and we all would be so much happier! For one, the first ten years of my life wouldn't be so crappy.' He felt the anger and bitterness build up as he thought of all the Muggles he had met before Hogwarts up till last summer. From the teacher in his old Muggle school who blamed him for turning her wig blue (even though there was no proof) to the neighbours who treated him like rubbish and finally to the Dursleys. 'But noooo, those Muggles just have to be there and ruin everything!' Panting hard, Harry did not realise that he was strangling the bottle until he heard the glass squeak. Startled by this, he handed the bottle over to Draco.

Draco did not know half of what Harry had said, but was too drunk to care. 'Hear, hear,' he said raising the bottle up violently, causing some of the liquid to spill down the side.

'That's what we should do,' the blonde said finally after he licked the spilled whiskey off the bottle and his hand as if it was a cone of melting ice cream. 'Those bloody Muggles don't understand shit about how to raise a magical child! Fucking animals.' He held the bottle out to Harry.

'Uh, no thanks, you keep that.' Harry said with a disgusted look on his face. He wasn't so pissed that he was going to be comfortable with holding a bottle coated with Draco Malfoy's saliva. Opening the last bottle and taking a swig he declared. 'Yeah, no magical child should grow up with animals! There should be a law against that!'

'Yeah!' said Draco thumping the floor. Suddenly getting a thoughtful look, he commented, 'We should write this down so we don't forget.'

'Capital idea, cousin!' Harry raised his bottle up. 'You aren't so dumb after all.'

Draco shot him a filthy look before putting quill to parchment. After a few moments of furious scribbling, he looked back at Harry and pushed it across, 'Here, you keep it.' having said that, he drained the remaining whiskey in his bottle, spilling quite a bit of it all over himself. Giving out one last belch, the blonde promptly passed out.

Harry shook his head at the blonde. 'Can't hold his liquor ... pathetic,' he muttered. Getting up, he swayed a bit trying to get his bearings. Closing his eyes he tried willing himself sober. Opening them, he noticed that it hadn't made much of a difference. Mentally and physically slapping himself seemed to help though. Feeling slightly clearer-headed, he picked up the piece of parchment filled with Draco's scrawls and left the softly snoring boy. At the last minute he came back and using the blonde's quill, scratched out a note about a future meeting on the back of the Slytherin's own hand. He supposed he could use the parchment that was lying next to the boy, but then he reasoned that Malf – Draco (he must remember to call him that) might lose it. This way, it was right under his pointy nose.

The blonde didn't even flinch as Harry scrawled out his missive. Seizing the opportunity, Harry amused himself by doodling a bit more on Malfoy while stifling his laughter as the other boy slept through it all.

Sniggering, Harry stepped back to observe his handiwork. Satisfied, he called for Kreacher, stuffed his partly finished bottle into the elf's arms and instructed the elf to send it back to the cellar.

Violently shaking his head again, Harry set off, retracing his steps till he got back to the spot where he remembered standing before being cursed.

'What was I looking for again?' he asked himself as he glared at his surroundings. He shook his head violently. 'Think Potter, think!' he slapped himself again. 'Oh, the diadem! Now where was it? Ah!' Spotting the diadem, he squinted as he looked at it closely. It seemed to resemble the one he was after, but he couldn't be sure. He closed his eyelids as hard as he could and opening them, glared at the object as if willing it to identify itself. When the headpiece did not oblige, he huffed in annoyance. On a whim, he picked the diadem up and stuffed it in his pocket. Then twirling around (and stumbling slightly) he meandered towards the entrance of the room.

Halfway towards the Gryffindor common room, he regained some of his wits and was sober enough to have the presence of mind to successfully activate his map. Seeing nobody about in his vicinity, he concluded that it was well past curfew. Quietly tiptoeing forward, he made it to the portrait which opened (the subject within deciding forego the lecture she was about to give upon noticing his clearly drunken state when he gave her a glare).

Entering the common room, he tiptoed towards the sixth-year dorm where he collapsed on his bed, fully clothed.

Draco slowly regained consciousness the next morning. With a groan, he sat up, holding his throbbing head. His mouth felt like it had been subjected to an extremely strong Drought Charm and he was sure that a shrunken herd of Erumpents was currently rampaging in his head.

Looking around blearily, he noticed that he was not in his dorm. It took him a few moments to recognise his surroundings and recollect the events of the last night that led to his current location (the empty bottles of firewhiskey and the smell of the same liquor on his robes helped). Swearing to himself that he would never drink again, he slowly got to his feet.

Draco still could not wrap his head around the fact that Harry Potter, the bane of the Dark Lord's existence (if the way the wizard's eyes twitched every time the boy's name was mentioned was any indication), a person who was considered by many to be Dumbledore's heir apparent, the ultimate Gryffindor, and all around good guy had not only found out about the plot on the headmaster's life, but had offered to help! He had even gone so far as to swear an Unbreakable Vow to that effect. Just to make sure, Draco fished out the parchment where he had written the words from his pocket and read it. Yep, it was official; the world truly had gone round the twist. What next, self – casting wands?

Feeling slightly dizzy, Draco put his hands on his knees as he breathed in deeply willing himself not to sick up. Once he was sure he had his bearings, he opened his eyes and stared at an object on the ground. Finally his brain registered what his eyes were telling him.

'Is that my quill?' he asked himself bemusedly. Picking it up confirmed his suspicions. The luxury eagle feather self inking quill was definitely his. After all, it did have his initials and the Malfoy family crest embossed on the twenty four carat magically enforced gold nib. However, if the small bar on the stem above the nib was to be believed, half of the quill's ink was over.

Draco puzzled over this as he straightened up. He distinctly remembered filling the quill up the last evening before coming to the Room. It was then that he noticed the hand holding the quill. And then the bit of exposed flesh of the arm attached to the hand. Horrified, he hurried towards a cracked mirror.

'Curse you, Potter!'

Albus Dumbledore straightened up as he was disgorged from the fireplace in the office of the Warden of Azkaban. 'Evening, Gregory,' he nodded at the warden.

'Evening, Chief Warlock,' said Charon as he got up from his desk.

'I think we should hurry, sir. In the week that you have been gone, the prisoner's health has been deteriorating rapidly. I fear that it doesn't have much time left on this earth.'

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore with a small amount of alarm as he lengthened his strides, making the shorter man jog a bit to catch up. While Albus would have waited for the warden, as Gregory said, time was of the essence. He did not want Hokey to die before he had extracted all her secrets. Well, actually, he didn't want Hokey to die. Period. He knew that she was just a victim of Tom Riddle's manipulations as was Morfin Gaunt, and had been imprisoned unjustly. But alas, one couldn't have everything one wanted. What was that terrible saying? "If wishes were Hippogriffs..."

Barely sparing the warden a glance and a cursory nod, Albus walked into the interrogation room and closing the door, regarded the former house elf of the House of Smith. The warden was right; the elf did not have much longer to live.

Pulling his wand out, he took a deep breath and plunged into the elf's mind.

'Was your interrogation successful, Chief Warlock?' Charon asked an hour later.

'Indeed it was,' said Dumbledore sombrely. It had not taken him that long to find that one elusive memory. During his "exile" form Hogwarts the previous academic year he had spent a lot of time in Knockturn Alley in disguise. It was well known that his former student had once sought employment at Borgin and Burkes. Knowing of the establishment's reputation for finding rare artefacts, Albus could see how much the shop would appeal to Tom. After all, the young man would get to meet some very rich clients and handle rare objects. What was more, the shop had reported a great increase in business in the duration of Tom's employment as a greater number of customers came willing to sell some rare articles and heirlooms. Naturally this required further research.

Of all the customers that the shop had serviced over the years before and after Tom's employment, five had died under mysterious circumstances. Out of the five, it was the death of Hepzibah Smith that drew his interest. The death had been announced seven days before Tom had resigned and subsequently disappeared from public view. Ergo, Tom must have obtained something very valuable from Hepzibah.

It had been a simple matter of looking through old records to find out who had served as Tom's scapegoat this time round. Although, it would have happened sooner had Albus had more time on his hands.

And now, after days of searching through the elderly elf's mind, he finally found the memory he was looking for. Tom had hidden it quite well. Albus still hadn't found anything within the elf's mind that implicated the Slytherin in the murder of her master.

Albus doubted that he would ever find anything that even suggested that the elf's mind was tampered with. What was disconcerting was that even getting close to the memory had triggered a deterioration of the elf's health. Something that Albus realised belatedly had also happened to Morfin's mind. Albus always knew that Tom was gifted in the mind arts. He was a natural, a prodigy. Then again, the same could be said for all the fields of magic Tom had deigned to apply himself to.

Except transfiguration of course ... the boy was relatively hopeless at it. Sure he was good, better than most wizards. But he wasn't great. And Albus knew how much that bothered the twisted man. And one mustn't forget about the power of love. It was something that many underestimated.

Albus hoped that Harry had managed to coax the memory from Slughorn. It was vital that he found out what his old friend had told Voldemort about Horcruxes. It might give him a clue about the number the twisted monster had made.

Charon watched as the great wizard left his office. 'Damn it!' he cursed again as he remembered that he had once again forgotten to mention his suspicions regarding the Death Eaters. 'Oh well, perhaps some other time.' With that he got back to his business.

He did not realise it, but that was the exact same thing he had done every time an official from the mainland came visiting, and those words were also the exact same thing he said to himself when they left.

Harry woke up late in the morning after his impromptu binge with Draco Malfoy of all people feeling thirsty. It was the first time that he had seriously indulged in booze and he was honestly expecting to feel the effects of veisalgia, having heard about it. Instead, other than a grumbling stomach and a desire to drink a lot of water, he felt fine.

Not about to question his luck, he got up from his bed. As it was Sunday, he decided to forego his run and workout. Something he hadn't done ever since he had seen Slughorn's tainted memory. The last night had lifted his burden somewhat. Once Draco had repaired the cabinet, with Harry's help, all he would have to do is watch as Draco and the Death Eaters made short work of the headmaster. Of course, dealing with Dumbledore would not be a walk in the park. The headmaster would probably consider a ten to one duel boring. But if Harry played it right, he might be able to land a fatal blow on the old mage when his back was turned and avoid suspicion at the same time. He just needed to figure out how and when.

Harry supposed that he should feel a bit bad about doing this, but then he remembered that the old man was planning on killing him. It did alleviate the guilt somewhat.

Now all he had to do was find that diadem and a way to destroy the Horcruxes.

Entering the bathroom, he made to remove his robes but paused as his hand felt an unfamiliar weight in his pocket.

Frowning, he started emptying his pockets. Along with a few knick – knacks, he came across a piece of parchment full of untidy writing. Frowning, he looked at it trying to decipher what was written. A moment later, his expression cleared as a vague memory of Draco giving it to him came back.

Shrugging, Harry put it on the side with the other items and then searched his other pocket for the bigger item. Immediately, his hand closed in on something cold and metallic. Startled, Harry struggled to extricate the object lodged inside.

Finally he managed to get it out into the open. What he saw nearly made him drop what he was holding.

'The diadem of Ravenclaw!' he whispered to himself as he beheld the tarnished headpiece. It looked just like what he remembered from the memories. A smile broke out of his face as his body was slowly filled with excitement.

Shakily, Harry called one of his elves and handed the diadem over, instructing the elf to store it in a secure location.

Done with his ablutions, Harry descended the staircase intending to go to the Great Hall for some breakfast.

'Hey!' he cheerfully greeted Neville as he spotted the other boy in the common room. He was slightly taken aback upon seeing Susan and Daphne also sitting there, but he greeted them enthusiastically nonetheless.

'Please, sit, Harry.'

Nonplussed at Susan's grim expression, Harry sat down on the indicated sofa. 'What's going on?' he said warily as Daphne put up privacy wards.

Not answering him, his two friends and fiancé all sat down, the girls sitting on either side while Neville sat down opposite him.

After a moment of silence, Neville finally spoke up. 'Uh, Harry, are you all right?'

'Never better Nev, why?' Harry replied, puzzled at his friend's sombre face.

'It's just ...' Neville struggled for words 'Um...'

'What the dolt is trying to say,' interjected Susan irritably as she gave Neville an exasperated look that made him blush. 'Is that you haven't exactly been all right these past few weeks, so we aren't so sure that you are, in fact, to use your words "never better".'

Harry turned to look at Susan as she said this. He noticed that she too had a grim look of concern on her face.

'What do you mean?' Harry said slowly as he looked at his friends. What was going on?

'Well, Harry,' Neville began delicately. 'It's just that, the past few weeks or so, you've been ...' he trailed off.

'The words, "withdrawn", "intense", and "depressed" come to mind' said Susan rolling her eyes as she glared at Neville with a muttered 'Honestly'.

'Of course, there's also "moody", "snappy" and "distant".' Daphne who had been quiet all this time interjected helpfully, causing Harry to start and swivel around to look at her.

'Yeah, Harry, you've been running yourself ragged. We barely see you anymore and when we do you're tired.' Neville exclaimed.

'We can't see you kill yourself like this Harry.' Daphne said passionately, taking a hold of his hand. 'I understand that you are prophesised to kill The Dark Lord, and you need all the training you can get, but this is too much.'

'But ... I'm not...'

'Oh please, Harry, we've noticed that you have been disappearing to who knows where.' Neville interrupted a bit harshly. 'Well, more than usual, but you know what I mean! And even though you try to hide it, I know you are dead on your feet half the time from being up so late. Hell, I just saw you this morning, completely passed out on your bed! What's worse is that you have become rather short tempered. I've personally noticed on more than one occasion where you have nearly lost it. Not to mention how ruthless you have become in our duels. If you continue like this, I don't think we can duel without risking our lives!'

'What do you mean, "passed out"?' Susan gasped, aghast.

'I mean that he had come in well after one in the morning, I know because I waited that long before falling asleep, and this morning when I woke up, he was lying on top of his bed, fully clothed. He hadn't even taken his shoes off!' Neville said succinctly, not taking his eyes off Harry as Susan and Daphne gasped.

Harry felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment as he thought of the others looking at him passed out drunk.

'Ha, I knew it!' Susan exclaimed. Grabbing Harry's other hand in both of hers, she gave it a tug. 'You can't ignore the signs, Harry. You have been pushing yourself too hard. It has got to stop.'

'It's not what it looks like!'

'Oh?' Susan said sceptically. 'Then why were you found passed out on your bed, hm? And why did you decide to come in after one in the morning?' she looked at Harry challengingly.

'It wasn't ... I was ...' Harry sputtered trying to think of something to say. He couldn't exactly tell them that he had been out drinking with Draco Malfoy which was why he was in that state to begin with.

'And you missed yesterday's tutoring session, you know.' Daphne's words interrupted Harry's thoughts.

Harry closed his mouth and considered what his friends had just told him. They did have a point. Looking back on it, he realised that he had been rather distant and preoccupied. 'I missed the tutoring session?' he asked Daphne numbly. In answer, Daphne just nodded primly.

'And it wasn't the first time either,' she said severely. 'I've had to cover your arse twice, Potter!'

Harry grimaced. 'All right, I guess the three of you have a point,' he said slowly. 'But, at the same time, I would like to say that there is no need to worry anymore. Something amazing has happened last night, and because of that, some of the burden has been lifted. So, yeah...' he finished lamely, running out of words.

'And what is this "something"? I'm sorry, Harry, but we're going to need something more than that. How do we know that you won't be going off and doing something completely daft again?'

Harry took a deep breath and looked at his friends. His first reaction was to tell them to sod off and that it was none of their business. But then he reconsidered when he saw the look of genuine concern on each of their faces. Neville, Susan and Daphne each had become close to him over the past few months, just as close as Ron and Hermione. If he could tell Ron and Hermione about the full contents of the prophecy and about the "lessons" he had with Dumbledore and what he had learnt from them, he could tell his future wife, Neville and Susan. He could definitely trust these three.

Coming to his decision, Harry exhaled and said. 'Fine, I'll tell you. But not now ...' he gestured at their surroundings. 'Not here. We'll speak again in the evening. Is that all right?'

His friends gave him a sceptical look before acquiescing. 'Good, now, I don't know about you, but I am hungry.' Harry patted his stomach that took that moment to let out an audible rumble. Laughing, the four of them headed out towards the kitchens.

That evening, in the security of the Room of Requirement (a place that fascinated Daphne to no end) Harry told them everything. While they knew that there was a prophecy concerning Harry and Voldemort, they did not know its full wording. Harry then told them about Dumbledore's "lessons" and Tom Riddle's history. At first he thought of telling them the full truth; that he knew of the Horcruxes, what they were and how he had come to this knowledge. But then he held back at the last moment, sticking to the story that he had to extract the true memory from Slughorn. He did not feel that they would be able to handle the whole truth. No, that fact would be kept to himself.

'So let me get this straight,' said Neville finally. 'You are the only person who can get rid of the darkest Dark Lord in wizarding history and Dumbledore's solution to helping you is to take you on trips down memory lane?' seeing Harry nod, he exhaled violently. 'Is the man insane?'

'I think that Dumbledore has a valid reason to do that,' said Susan. 'After all, it is important that you know about You Know Who's past and what makes him tick so you know how he thinks and how to take him down.'

'True,' Harry conceded. 'I think that Slughorn's memory would be the key to finding Voldemort's weakness. But you have to admit, Susan, I also do need to know how to bring the bastard down. And Voldemort has a lot of experience. So Dumbledore could at least teach me how to fight him properly instead of letting me fend for myself. After all, I have seen those two at it. And Dumbledore is more than capable of defeating Voldemort. It's only due to the prophecy that he can't.

'And it isn't as if he does not have the time. These lessons I have with the headmaster are infrequent with large gaps between them. While I know he is a busy man, at the very least he could give me some books or tell me about some spells that I can practise. Yet he hasn't done that.'

'But why would he do something like that?' Daphne asked, puzzled. 'It's almost as if he isn't interested in your survival.'

'You would be right about that.' Harry said darkly.

'Why would he want that?'

Harry looked at Neville incredulously. 'Why do you think?' he asked as if the answer were obvious.

Neville sat there a moment looking at Harry before he spoke. 'No, Harry ... We agreed she was barmy, remember?'

'We did not agree on any such thing. We agreed that we wouldn't talk about it. You just speculated that she was addled.'

'Sorry, but who are you talking about?' Susan interjected, confused.

'Bathilda Bagshot,' Harry replied. 'You know, the Bathilda Bagshot, author of a History of Magic? Sweet old lady, lives in Godric's Hollow, knew my parents.'

'Also stark raving mad and living under the delusion that Dumbledore is secretly a Dark Lord who made Grindlewald a dark wizard.' Neville spoke over Harry.

'Anyway, that's not what I am talking about.' Harry said dismissively. 'No, I am looking at the evidence so far.' He paused as he collected his thoughts. 'I think you all know how much I hate those Muggles I had been staying with?' seeing them nod, he continued, 'Well, what you probably don't know is that I ended up with them thanks to Dumbledore. Also, another unknown fact is that he left me out in the fucking cold like a bottle of milk in November! I was just a few months over one year old and he saw fit to leave me outside on the stoop, in the cold, in the dead of the night with nothing but a blanket and a letter! He did not even have the courtesy of going there during normal hours to talk to them first. It's like he didn't care what happens to me, or perhaps he was hoping I would die from pneumonia or something. I mean, what are the chances that a one year old can survive the cold?

'And that isn't accounting for how my so-called relatives treated me. I won't go into the details, but my life there was hell.' Harry took a deep breath to reign in his emotions. 'At times I marvel at the fact that I managed to survive ten years there ... but the best bit is that Dumbledore had me watched all those years! One of his spies was even my babysitter for crying out loud!

'None of them did anything to help me. What was more, that babysitter of mine actually had the gall to tell me that she had to keep me miserable at her house to ensure that the Dursleys didn't get suspicious. So not only did she prove that she knew, but she didn't do a shit thing.' Harry's voice trembled in anger at remembering what Mrs Figg had told him. Taking another deep breath he then continued calmly. 'Of course, then we have my first year. Remember at the end of the year how the three of us saved the Philosopher's stone? Well, here's a fun fact: All those traps that were standing between Ron, Hermione and I and the stone were a joke! Any one of us could get through them. Hell, three first-years got through them with ease! Slughorn himself said that one of the more effective of the obstacles was easy to get through!

'And between then and now, Dumbledore did nothing whatsoever to train me. He didn't even tell me why Voldemort was after me, keeping me ignorant about something that important. Hell, he never told me about my family vaults, where my parents were buried or about my family heritage. And he was supposed to be my magical guardian! And when he was finally forced to reveal the prophecy to me, instead of finally getting off his wrinkly old arse, he starts these glorified movie nights and calls them "lessons". So at best he doesn't care about me or my life, and at worse he actually wants me dead, but is too cowardly to do it himself. I even wonder if he had orchestrated all those events from Second year all the way to Fifth year as well.

'Of course, he could also be playing these games to manipulate me to further some nefarious scheme of his where he uses my popularity to boost his standing with the public. But I doubt that, since he already is pretty famous by himself.'

The room was silent for a while as Neville, Susan and Daphne digested what Harry had said. Finally Susan spoke up. 'It certainly seems that way,' she began slowly. 'But are you sure you aren't reading too much into this, Harry? After all, the man has done quite a few great things for Wizarding Britain. He was the rallying point in the first war against You Know Who, and still is now.'

Harry sat back, closed his eyes and replied tiredly, 'Susan, I assure you I have thought about this for quite a while, and I'm afraid that I cannot come up with another reason for why he did what he did, or why he continues to do what he is doing with regard to me. Of course, if you have another theory, please do share. I seriously wouldn't mind. Anything is better than this.' Opening his eyes, he looked at Susan inquiringly. Seeing her shake her head, he let his head fall back as he chuckled quietly, 'I thought so. And no, I don't want to go and talk to him about it. If my hunch about him is right (which I assure you it is) then it is likely that he will not react favourably.'

The room lapsed into silence again. 'So what do you plan to do about it?' Daphne asked Harry finally.

Harry was silent for so long that Daphne was about to ask again. Finally, with a shrug Harry replied. 'I will continue as normal. Of course, I will cut back a bit on the training. But at the same time, I am going to keep an eye out. That old bastard isn't going to be sticking me into another life threatening situation again.'

The next morning at breakfast, the Great Hall was treated to a show after breakfast to lift the Monday blues.

'Romilda, oh, Romilda,' the squeaky high pitched voice of a first-year drew the attention of some of the Gryffindors sitting nearby.

'My sweet, fair, Romilda,' another boy, this time a second year, cut in.

'Oi, bugger off, I saw her first!'

'No I won't you little titch! And you better watch that mouth of yours before I hex it off!'

'What's going on?' the girl in question asked slightly fearfully, nervously glancing at the two younger boys and the growing interest she was engendering. The past few weeks had not been good on her. Initially nobody had known about the love potion mishap, but that was ruined soon enough. While the teachers thought that being impaled on her own sword was punishment enough, they still had informed her parents. And her mother felt that a good scolding was in order. Thanks to the resultant Howler, the whole school knew that Romilda had tried to dose someone with a Love Potion. While it wasn't known who she had tried it on (thankfully professor McGonagall had decided not to pursue the investigation seeing as all evidence of the potion had mysteriously disappeared) the fact that she had ingested her own love potion was funny enough for her peers. And so, she had been the butt of many a joke. Most of which were terrible ones involving her last name.

At the sound of her voice, the two boys who were fighting suddenly perked up and turned toward her with bright grins on their faces.

'Romilda! Your voice is so beautiful!' said the older student in what he thought was a suave voice.

'I got you a frog!' said the younger one, taking the amphibian out and practically shoving it under her face.

Romilda stared at the frog for a long moment, transfixed. The spell was broken when the frog gave a loud croak, causing her to shriek at the top of her lungs.

'Idiot, she doesn't like frogs!' the second year could be heard loud and clear in the now suddenly silent hall as every eye was focused in the general vicinity of the scene. Crossly cuffing the younger boy on the head, the twelve year old said. 'I heard that she likes spiders!' with that he turned to her and reached into his pocket. 'Check this baby out ... babe!'

With that smooth line, he removed a particularly large spider that looked even larger on his small palm.

'Get it away from me! Get it away from me!' Romilda shrieked as she scrambled away from both the boys and up the table. Still screaming, she ran across the table, paying no heed to where her feet landed in a desperate bid to get away from the creepy slimy things.

'Wait, come back!' Both the boys called out as they gave chase.

The Hall was silent for a moment before somebody snorted. This set off the rest of the students as conversation began with renewed fervour, with quite a bit of laughter mixed in.

Unnoticed by their friends, Daphne simply smiled blandly at Neville's narrow – eyed glare.

'I cannot believe you,' Neville muttered under his breath later that week. He was pretty cross with Daphne by now, and with good reason. The week had become more interesting, much to Romilda's misfortune and everyone else's general amusement. By lunch the next day, she had five third – years clamouring for her attention and following her like little lost puppies.

After that, Romilda was inundated with gifts at random times from "secret admirers" which turned out to be an assortment of various amphibians, reptiles, and insects.

Things had finally come to a head by the end of the week when the poor girl received a particularly inventive box of maggots that had been charmed to violently regurgitate its contents the minute it was within range of the recipient.

'I don't know what you are talking about Neville.' Daphne said coolly as she watched her fiancé practically gasping with laughter as Romilda Vane made her exit pulling at the maggots that had got into her hair.

She looked like really enjoyed my gift, Daphne allowed a sinister smirk to play on her face as she thought of the box of maggots that had just exploded in Vane's face.

'You can't just dose all those poor kids with Love Potion! That's just cruel, it is!' Neville whispered furiously. Unable to contain his curiosity, he added, 'How did you manage to get enough to dose so many throughout the week?' He grimaced when he realised that he had asked that question out loud.

'Oh, I broke all those spiked Cauldron Cakes into little pieces and sprinkled them into the pudding.' Daphne said serenely. 'So it was a mild dose. Not enough for Vane to get stalkers, but still enough to cause her ... some discomfort. And a note anonymously suggesting that Vane loves all those animals got her those little gifts.' She smirked. 'Oh come on, Longbottom, admit it! You found it funny!'

'It isn't funny!' said Neville. He had to grit his teeth as he said it because he found (much to his horror) that a guffaw was begging to be let out.

'If you say so, Neville, if you say so ...' said Daphne with an enigmatic smile.

Now in case you are wondering why Draco seems to be so whiny, I will point out that canon Draco was just as whiny in the presence of a long dead girl. Ph that and he's a kid in over his head.

This chapter (and all the previous chapters) were betaed by Miss Lalla. Her work is very much appreciated!

Read and review!

26. The Memory Remains

'Excellent work, Mr Potter,' said the examiner as he scribbled on a clipboard after Harry appeared soundlessly in front of him. 'Now, I have here an address for your next stop. Please Apparate there and report to my colleague who shall give you further instructions.'

Five minutes later, Harry was walking into the Three Broomsticks bearing an Apparating licence in his hand and a wide grin on his face.

Ever since the first Apparition lesson, Harry had only attended one other class, in which he showed minimal participation. However, after finally finding that diadem, his spirits were lifted high enough for him to start experimenting. He used the opportunity given to him to Apparate around the Great Hall in various ways. So far he had managed to Apparate facing in various different directions, Apparate while walking and, his personal favourite, Disapparating and Apparating in one spot. He had also managed to improve his speed and was trying to Apparate seated on a chair by the time Twycross called it a day. Exasperated, Twycross had decided to take the boy with him to the afternoon's testing session. The ministry official had two reasons to do this: firstly, the teen's skills in disappearing and appearing in various places silently was pretty impressive and this, coupled with his emancipated status, made it possible to give him a licence. Secondly and more importantly, it gave Twycross a better reason to deny the boy entry in future classes. Honestly, all that Apparating and Disapparating was giving him a headache. Especially when it was accompanied with shrieks and shouts of surprise as the teen suddenly appeared behind a classmate randomly.

And so, Harry ended up being the third person to be tested that Saturday afternoon and the only person to be doing it for the first time. Not to mention the youngest.

'Ah, Mr Potter, I see that you passed.' Wilkie Twycross said dryly as he looked at the licence that Harry held in his hand. 'Well, congratulations... Now, I think it best that you head back to school.'

'Thank you, sir.'

The wispy haired albino wizard gave a bland smile. 'No, thank you. Since you have passed, there is no need for you to attend any more of my classes. I believe that this will be the last I shall be seeing of you. Farewell!' And with that, he turned to the next applicant to be tested, a large sullen wizard who looked quite put out at being tested in the first place.

'Goodbye sir, it was a pleasure to be taught by you!' Harry replied cheekily as he sauntered out.

Pausing mid – step outside the door, Harry considered the long walk up to the gates. Now that he had his licence, there was no need for him to walk all the way there. Not that stopped him before. Taking a step forward, he Disapparated, Apparating a few paces in front of the gates, stumbling slightly as he strove to maintain his stride. 'Got to work on that,' he muttered to himself, nearing the gates.

'Hey Harry! What happened? Didn't you pass?' Neville said as he looked at his friend.

'Oh, I passed,' Harry replied, a sour expression on his face replacing the wide grin that was there just minutes ago.

'Then why the sour face?'

'McGonagall gave me detention,' Harry muttered darkly. The Transfiguration teacher was the one who had let him into the school. Through pursed lips, she announced how he would be spending his time that evening.

Neville snorted at this. 'I'm not surprised,' he said dryly. 'Judging by the way Twycross was looking at you throughout the class as you appeared and disappeared everywhere like some demented mirage, I'd say that you had that coming.'

Harry grunted. 'Still,' he said a moment later with a small smile as he fished out the licence in his pocket. 'I aced that test.' He proudly showed Neville the little card. The expression on his facsimile mirrored the smirk currently on his face.

'Cool,' said Neville as he examined the card. 'It was rather decent of Twycross to squeeze you in at the last moment.'

'McGonagall said something similar. She said that I should give the bloke a small token of appreciation for going through the trouble. Although I think I will hold back on that, he did jack the fees up quite a bit.'

Neville rolled his eyes and shook his head. 'Well, at least you got to go to Hogsmeade today. It's a real shame that they had to cancel Hogsmeade visits.'

'Yeah, Fred and George weren't too happy about it either.'

'Oh, so they have opened a shop in Hogsmeade, haven't they?' Neville said in an impressed voice. 'Their business must be booming to be able to expand so quickly, especially in these times.'

'Oi, Potter!' said Seamus, as he and Dean walked over to Harry's seat by the fire. 'Well, looks like somebody's got his licence. Let me see.' He plucked the card from Neville's hand and gave it a long look. 'Well, congratulations! So, when's the party?'

'Tomorrow,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'Today's Ron's birthday. He becomes a man today.'

'So, got any tips for Apparating, Harry?' Dean asked eagerly. Upon hearing the question, all three boys brought their heads together and looked at Harry intently.

'Well, you know Twycross's three D's?'

'Oh, don't remind me of Dickhead,' Seamus moaned disgustedly, using one of the many nicknames he and the rest of the sixth – years had given the Ministry official, using his three D's as inspiration. He was immediately shushed by the other two.

'Yes, well, I sort of practised those three D's when I first Apparated, only they were "Desperation", "Determination" and ...' Harry paused for a moment in thought before saying '..."Desperation",' again, causing Seamus to snort.

'Although it was more "Determination", "Determination" and "Determination" after that,' Harry continued thinking about what to say. 'I can't really explain it, you know, you just sort of ... get it. It just comes to you. Like that,' he snapped his fingers. 'At least that is how it worked for me. I used to spend hours on end in my cu – room concentrating on appearing and disappearing before suddenly I just got it.'

He knew that he had fed them a right load of crap, but it was better than telling them that he had managed to get that information from a piece of the Dark Lord's soul.

'So what you are saying is that it is like learning how to swim or ride a bike?' Dean asked contemplatively.

'Yes, you just have to keep practising.' Harry replied readily. This really was too easy. 'Well, I have to get going,' he got up and stretched, plucking his licence from Dean's loose fingers. 'Might as well get this detention out of the way ... Now, I have here a little gift for the birthday boy and you lot, courtesy of Fred and George.' He reached into his schoolbag and pulled out a smaller bag. 'So we can have for ourselves a proper party. Knowing those two, I expect it to be the good stuff, if you know what I mean. So please make sure that McGonagall does not find out about it, 'cause I will say right here and now that I never gave that bag to you and that I have never seen it in my life.' He set the bag down with a disproportionately loud clunk. 'Oh and save some for me,' he added as an afterthought.

'Sure thing, Mr House – Captain, Sir,' said Dean with a mocking salute.

'Yeah, also I do expect you lot to be responsible enough to ensure that the younger years don't get any of the hard drinks.'

Harry cringed internally as he realised how old and adult he sounded. There was a pregnant pause. 'A lecture on responsibility and maturity from Harry Potter,' Seamus deadpanned. 'Where is it that you are going right now?' he asked teasingly, getting a raised finger in response. 'Anyway, relax. There is no way we will be handing that stuff out to those little brats. That would mean less for us.'

'Touching,' said Harry dryly hoisting his schoolbag more securely on his shoulder. 'Anyway, have fun! I'll get back here as soon as possible.'

As Harry was on his way down to McGonagall's office to report for the detention, he was waylaid by Slughorn.

'Harry, m'boy!' said the corpulent Potions teacher. 'Just the man I was looking for!' he grinned as he indicated towards the direction of his office. 'Well, come on then!'

'Uh, I have detention with Professor McGonagall, sir,' Harry replied politely.

Slughorn's grin got wider. 'Ah, not to worry, my dear boy!' He said jovially. I spoke to Minerva a few minutes back. She agreed to let me oversee your detention.' He winked as he started shepherding Harry to his office.

'Now I heard about your antics in the Apparation class, and I was pretty impressed.' Slughorn said as they neared his office. 'You cheeky boy! Just like your father, you are! And I also heard that you got your licence on the first try?' he looked at Harry inquiringly. Seeing Harry nod, he beamed. 'Excellent! I knew you had it in you!'

The door to Slughorn's office opened with a tap of the Potions master's wand. 'After you then, Harry!'

Having spent the past week talking to Slughorn after class about various subjects in an effort to get into the man's good graces, Harry was well acquainted with the interiors of Slughorn's rather spacious and luxurious office.

'Now, the reason I asked for you was because Poppy needs a fresh batch of Potions, and it so happens to be my turn to make them. So when I heard your name and especially what you had done to garner a detention, I thought, "why not?" and decided to have you help. After all, these are fairly easy potions to make and I daresay a walk in the park for my star pupil.' He shot a proud smile at Harry. 'At least this way, I can kick my feet up and relax, and you get a fun detention. That way, we both win!'

'It most certainly will be,' said Harry with a smile, and he meant it. When he had initially spent time researching the facts in the Prince's book, he found the theories dry and complicated. However, over the past week as he got to know Slughorn, Harry found the man's enthusiasm for the subject catching. Harry would never take a shine to the subject, and he certainly did not feel the same passion for it as he did for Defence, Charms and (ever since the beginning of sixth year) Transfiguration. But the subject seemed just so much more interesting when Slughorn explained it. Harry actually found himself enthusiastic about making potions. Even more so since Slughorn gave useful hints and tips as he discussed potions not covered in the sixth year. Already Harry knew about two potions that would be coming up the next year, as well as some theory about more advanced potions that generally featured in the Potions N.E.W.T.

So making a potion (even if it was a large amount of it) wasn't that much of drudgery. Inexplicably (and the Harry of last year would certainly keel over from shock at the very notion) Harry actually preferred this compared to the lines that McGonagall had probably planned for him.

'Now, I don't want you to expect this sort of treat all the time.' Slughorn said sternly, although the twinkle in his eye ruined the admonishment. 'Now, the ingredients and my potions kit are over there.' He pointed at the desk at the other end of the office where a small area was cordoned off for making potions. 'My personal potions kit is for you to add some flair to the potions, if you want to. I am sure you will give Poppy something to comment about.' He winked. 'And here, is the list.' Handing over the piece of parchment with a flourish, he waddled to a cupboard where he brought out two bottles. 'And if you finish soon enough, we can break open this excellent bottle of mead as a toast to you passing your Apparating test flawlessly!' he held up the unopened bottle for Harry to see. 'So get to it!'

With that, the potions professor settled down on his armchair. Opening the other bottle of what Harry guessed was brandy, Slughorn poured himself a drink and sat back with a contended groan, pulling homework towards him to grade.

Harry picked up the list and studied it. All five potions that Pomfrey had mentioned were easy enough to make. The Blood Replenishing Potion hadn't been covered in class yet, but the instructions should be simple enough (it was in this year's curriculum after all). It was the quantity that Harry had to worry about.

Thanks to the notes copied down from the Half Blood Prince's book (although Harry did credit his own talents more, since he had researched the principles behind each notation) Harry was done in two and a half hours. He had enough time to get to Ron's birthday party.

'Excellent as always, Harry!' Slughorn said as he examined each of the cauldrons. 'And with quite a few interesting twists added in too ... Poppy is going to rave about these! I daresay that Severus would be quite impressed with them as well.'

'Thank you sir,' Harry replied modestly as he stretched sore muscles.

'Now, I promised you a drink,' saying that, Slughorn opened the bottle of mead. Sniffing the contents he hummed pleasurably. 'Ah, truly Rosmerta's finest. Too good to give away to a teetotaller.' he mumbled to himself.

'Sorry?'

'Oh, nothing,' Slughorn waved Harry's question away. Pouring out half a glass for Harry and a full one for himself, he held his glass up. 'To you,' he said grandly.

Harry smiled and, following Slughorn's example, raised the glass and drained its contents in one go.

Maybe it was his imagination, but the mead tasted slightly syrupy on his tongue. Harry made a disgusted face as he swallowed. 'I think this batch has gone bad.'

His head shot up as he heard the shattering of a dropped glass. Looking up, Harry caught a glimpse of the professor's face before Slughorn crumpled to the floor, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam soon started dribbling from the older man's mouth as his eyes bulged and his skin turned blue.

Not that Harry noticed this. As soon as he saw Slughorn crumple, he had enough time to yell out a shocked 'Professor!' before he doubled over as he felt an acute pain in his stomach.

'Fuck!' Harry groaned as his vision swam. Focusing on his surroundings he saw his teacher. The man's thrashings were becoming weaker. Harry knew that the professor did not have much time left. Stumbling for the potions kit, he upended it as he frantically searched for the bezoar he had noticed when he was making the potions. Clutching the stone, he staggered to the man and with a supreme effort of will, managed to force the stone in. Harry figured he would be able to bring both of them to the hospital wing. After all, he didn't seem to be too affected by the poison.

Slughorn gave an almighty shudder and became still.

But the battle was half over. A fresh wave of pain brought Harry to his knees. Breathing heavily, Harry opened his eyes as his stomach let up a bit. There was no way that he was going to be able to make it to the hospital wing. Not with Slughorn's limp body in tow. He called out for Randolph.

'Get to the hospital wing, get the nurse here.' Harry said through gritted teeth. 'The professor and I have been poisoned. Hurry!'

Not saying anything, the elf swiftly disappeared. Gasping for breath, Harry wondered why he had not been affected by the poison in the same way as the Potions Professor. Harry cried out as the pain intensified. Unable to stand, he sank to the floor, his back supported by the wall.

Hazily remembering something he had heard of a long time back, he called for Dobby.

'What can Dobby do for mas –?' the elf stopped mid – sentence when he noticed his master's distress.

Not having any time for Dobby's prattling (the elf's squeaky voice could grate terribly on his ears at times) Harry snapped out, 'Dobby ... salt, water ... now!'

Harry knew that drinking salt mixed in with water could induce vomiting. He hoped that this helped in removing what poison was in his stomach before it started affecting him and he ended up having a fit like Slughorn. Already, he felt a twinge in his limbs.

'Sir!' The elf disappeared and reappeared with a salt shaker and a jug of water and an empty glass.

If Harry wasn't in so much pain, he would have rolled his eyes at the glass. Instead, he yanked open the lid of the shaker and jerkily emptied the contents into the jug. He then proceeded to drink the saltwater as quickly as he could, spilling most of it on himself.

Grimacing at the taste of the brackish water, Harry braced himself. When nothing happened, except for an increase in dizziness, he despaired. Hoping against hope that there would be another bezoar in the kit (and cursing himself for not having thought of it first) Harry heaved himself onto his feet, ignoring the protests of the elf next to him and the mute but stronger protests of his body.

The minute he got to his feet, Harry clutched his stomach as he suddenly felt a pressure in his abdomen signalling the start of antiperistalsis. A moment later, he was doubled over as he spewed the contents of his stomach all over the expensive carpet.

Harry straightened up wearily, weakly wiping his mouth. His nostrils, throat and mouth were burning. His senses soon registered the smell of vomit, nauseatingly overpowering, causing him to nearly throw up again.

Once he was certain that he wasn't going to sick up a second time, Harry laughed a touch giddily as the endorphins released in his body from the aftermath of the vomiting took effect. He took a moment to appreciate the volume he had spewed out. He couldn't believe that his body was capable of holding so much.

His respite was short – lived, however. With a groan, Harry sank to the ground again. His nerves were on fire. Unable to help himself, he whimpered as he curled up into a ball, his muscles contracting painfully as the fire slowly spread through his body. The poison had stayed in his system for too long. His vision began to swim.

'Harry Potter!' Harry heard a voice screaming his name as if from a great distance. Looking up, he could recognise the outline of the school nurse rushing towards him, pushing Dobby (who he just noticed was hovering close by, wringing his hands) aside, followed by the taller outline of his head of house. With a slight smile, he mumbled out, 'What a detention,' as he lost himself to unconsciousness.

'So, how did this happen?'

Daphne tuned out Granger's voice as she answered the question for what had to be the nth time. She really could not take listening to the girl's voice any more. At first, Daphne had always thought that the word "Mudblood" was probably the worst thing to call any Muggleborn or person for that matter. Then she had met Granger. That one girl, with her opinion that the Muggle world was more advanced than the Wizarding world and her unshakable faith in Muggle logic (here she couldn't help but sneer at those words) and the Muggle way of doing things, and most specifically her disdain for Wizarding culture and values had managed to alienate and piss off every single Pureblood in her year, along with most of the Half Bloods. By the time fourth year had ended, a good majority of the Purebloods between the ages of thirteen and fifteen from the light and neutral families had taken to calling her a "Mudblood" behind her back. While this was shocking, it wasn't that surprising. Granger had crossed quite a few lines before this trend had started. The only people who did not use such a word to refer to her were those who generally did not care to meet or interact with the girl. Of course, with the way she was going, that list was fast dwindling to the point that Daphne was sure that now almost everybody in her year called her that.

Of course, the Muggleborns never did use the word as they really did not know that Granger was referred to as such.

After Professor Severus Snape's extreme reaction to Draco Malfoy's use of the term in second year, word had quickly spread to the purebloods of the other houses and nobody had dared to utter the epithet in the presence of a teacher. Granger definitely was favoured by the teachers, even Snape. Her own father had threatened to wash her mouth out if he ever caught her using that word in his presence when she had slipped up in front of him. The adults just did not seem to understand.

Daphne also could never fathom why Harry insisted on hanging with the Blood Traitor. But then again, he never did know of the Weasley family's shameful history. Well she would have to make sure to tell him about it, some time. After he woke up, of course...

Daphne gazed at her future husband. It was late evening, the very next day after she had found out that Harry and the Potions master had been admitted to the hospital wing. The details were sketchy, but from what she knew, her fiancé had been poisoned. The source of the poison was a bottle of mead found open on the coffee table. It had taken Professor Snape less than five minutes to analyse the poison and even lesser time for the (no doubt sneering) man to (with a great degree of contempt she was sure) engineer an antidote to the poison. All that was left was for the two patients to regain consciousness. Stroking his hair, Daphne held back the tears that threatened to come out. Harry looked so pale and weak...

'Damn ... and he said that he was going to throw a party tonight,' Dean commented softly with a mock pout.

'Yes, well he can't. Seeing that he is currently unconscious,' Neville replied drily.

'Yeah ... it's almost as if he did this on purpose.'

Daphne snorted, 'You have a terrible sense of humour.'

'Yes, but you have to admit, it is working!' Dean replied with a smile.

'I assure you, Thomas, I am laughing at you, not because of your amazing wit and humour.'

'I think I can take that,' Dean said gamely. 'Nobody this pretty should have to cry.'

Daphne shook her head. She had met the Muggleborn in the morning, along with the others from Harry's dorm. He seemed to be slightly off his rocker, but he was nice enough. He and Seamus Finnigan kept arguing about some Muggle game he felt was better than Quidditch. Not that Daphne cared either way.

Why couldn't Harry have been this guy's friend? Even the Hufflepuff Muggleborn, Justin Finch-Fletchley was a better choice!

Speaking of which, Daphne noticed those two speaking to each other softly in a corner. That was surprising. From what she had heard from her fiancé and Neville, the opinionated human library had a vendetta on the ginger because he was apparently trying to get into Brown's knickers. Something about misplaced sexual energies.

'So why was he planning on throwing a party?' she asked suddenly.

Neville started, 'Oh, well, I guess he didn't have the time to tell you, but he got his Apparating licence.'

'Did he?' she gave an appraising glance at the still form of her future husband.

'Oh yeah,' Dean spoke up. 'Twycross decided that he wanted Harry out of the class as soon as possible, after that little stunt he pulled.' Despite the situation, the reminder of the spectacle was enough to elicit a small momentary grin from all of them. 'So he decided to let Harry have a go. This way, Harry has no reason to even come near the Great Hall for future classes.'

'Of course, now that Susan has heard of it, the party is going to be huge. Knowing her, most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs from sixth year will soon want to come.' Neville remarked.

'Oooh, brilliant, we're going to have a proper party then!' Seamus who had just entered the Wing, said excitedly. 'It'll be much better than Ron's birthday bash.' He rolled his eyes.

'What's this about a party?'

Hearing the mumbled words, they all stopped talking. At once, four pairs of eyes turned to look at the bed they were sitting or standing around to see the occupant blinking and looking around blearily as he tried to sit up.

'Oh, Harry!' Daphne squeaked, getting up. She gave him a light hug before helping him sit up properly, adjusting his pillows so he could lean back.

'Fucking hell, it hurts,' Harry groaned as he leaned back tiredly, rubbing his chest.

'Harry, mate, how are you?' Dean asked somewhat redundantly.

Harry looked at the darker skinned boy for a moment. 'Let's see,' he replied in a raspy voice. 'My arms and legs hurt, breathing is a bit of a problem since my ribs and stomach hurt as well. And talking is a bitch since I feel as if I had a mug of molten lava ...' he paused poignantly. 'Yeah, I'm fan-fucking-tastic! What about you?' he gave a wan grin before coughing violently as the others laughed.

'Here you go.' Daphne handed him a glass of water. Drinking it, Harry leaned back with a sigh.

'Thanks, that feels better,' he said in a voice that sounded a little less strained. 'So, how long was I out this time?' he looked at them expectantly.

'Well, less than a day.' Neville replied, looking at his watch. 'It's Sunday now. Dinner is about to start in a few hours.'

'Ah, I missed Ron's party. Shame ...'

'Eh, you didn't miss much,' Seamus said regretfully. 'It was pretty boring.'

Harry fixed looked at him sceptically. 'Really?' he drawled. Seeing all three of his dorm mates nod in agreement, he said, slightly incredulously, 'What about Fred and George's little gift to Ron? They said they had some goodies for all of us.'

Neville snorted in disgust. 'It was only a few cases of butterbeer and some cans of a Muggle fizzy drink.' He shuddered in remembrance. 'I don't know how Muggles can drink that crap. It looked like rusted water! "Iron Brew," indeed...' he trailed off, muttering darkly.

'You're kidding.' Harry looked at them disbelievingly. 'But, but ... why?' he spluttered, going into another coughing fit.

'Well, it turns out that the twins did not want anyone underage drinking. Said something about it being a line they weren't willing to cross.' Dean replied. At Harry's inquiring look, he explained further. 'They left a note in the bag. Ron wasn't well pleased to be honest. None of us were.'

'Are you telling me that the twins were being responsible?'

'Well, that does about sum it up, I guess.' Neville replied.

Harry stared at the people around him in silence for a moment, slack – jawed. Suddenly his face cleared up. 'Well, I think I ought to go back to sleep,' he said calmly. 'Obviously I am dreaming because there is no fucking way on earth that the twins are responsible. This must be a weird nightmare.' He looked around. 'Yes ... it can't be anything else. Not much on the scary department though.'

'Sorry to break it to you mate, but this is real, and you are awake.' Neville said with a chuckle. 'Here I'll prove it to you.' Saying this, he pinched Harry's arm. Hard.

'Convinced now?' he asked solicitously when Harry finished swearing.

Still rubbing his arm, Harry only narrowed his eyes, not letting up on the glare.

'Excellent. See I am such a good friend.'

About to give a scathing reply, Harry noticed movement behind his friends.

'Oh crap,' he muttered darkly. 'The Grand Inquisitor approaches.' Plastering a fake smile he said as normally as he could, 'Hello, Madam Pomfrey!'

As Professor McGonagall had shooed Harry's friends away (Ron and Hermione, who had fetched the nurse in the first place, only had time to say a quick 'hi') the nurse started waving her wand over Harry, casting various diagnostic charms wordlessly, humming now and then at the end of each spell. She then conferred in a low voice with Professor Snape, who was standing behind her. The former Potions Professor only took some notes before leaving the Hospital Wing without a word, sparing only a look of deep loathing for Harry, which was returned with interest.

Once that was done, the interrogation began. Harry slowly and haltingly (as he ended up coughing half the time) told Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall the whole story in detail.

When asked why he had decided to save Slughorn first, Harry mentioned that the professor was in the throes of a seizure and seemed to be worse off than him upon ingesting the poison.

'Why, though?' Harry wondered out loud. 'Why was he more affected than me?'

'A good number of reasons,' Madam Pomfrey said briskly. 'You are young, so your immune system could have been stronger. Another theory is that it could be a result of your body's make – up. Not everybody reacts to a poison the same. It also could be because you had a smaller dose.'

Harry looked at the bed next to his. Aside from him, Slughorn was the only patient in the room.

'Professor Slughorn is going to be all right, Potter.' Professor McGonagall said gently.

'The poison that was used, according to Severus, was a blended poison called Lorchel. I think you may have studied it in your potions class?' Madam Pomfrey picked up from where the transfiguration teacher left off.

'Yeah,' Harry could vaguely recall seeing the poison mentioned in the textbook. He could not fully remember all the ingredients of it, however. He really wasn't that interested in Potions to make the effort to learn everything.

'I think the main ingredient is extract of Turban Fungus?' he shot a questioning look at Madam Pomfrey.

'Indeed, it is.' Madam Pomfrey nodded. 'While it is easy to counteract, the poison is quite fast acting. Thanks to your quick actions with the bezoar, Professor Slughorn lives to see another day. Otherwise, he would have probably died by the time we arrived.'

There was silence for a few moments before Professor McGonagall spoke up. 'Now, Potter, there is one other question I wanted to ask you. We found an empty saltshaker and a nearly empty pitcher of water next to you. We tried asking the house – elf that we saw next to you, but he was too distressed to answer. Perhaps you could shed some light?'

Wondering why the school nurse was looking at him so suspiciously, Harry told the two women about what he had done to get the poison out of his system.

'You foolish boy,' Madam Pomfrey said after Harry had finished his explanation. 'You are lucky that the poison was what it was and not something else. Next time, unless you know what it is that you have ingested, do not try and induce regurgitation! You could very well make things worse. As it is, you have some minor burns in your oropharynx and nasopharynx thanks to the highly acidic mixture of the poison and your stomach acids.' She glared at Harry for a moment, only softening when he nodded meekly.

'Good, now I am going to keep you here for the next three days at least – no complaining.' She raised her voice at the end when the boy made to protest. 'I need to make sure that the poison has been fully flushed out of your body and neutralised, not to mention that your pharynx has healed before releasing you. Count your blessings that I have decided three days and not one week.' Shooting him one last glare, she nodded to Professor McGonagall and said, 'I shall leave him for you to deal with, Minerva. And you,' she fixed Harry with another glare. 'Once the professor is done, you are going to change into your pyjamas, finish your dinner, take your potions, and go to sleep. Am I clear?'

'Yes, ma'am,'

Satisfied, the nurse stalked off towards her office, muttering something about thick – headed teenagers.

'Now, Potter,' Professor McGonagall said briskly as soon as the two of them were alone. 'Do you have any idea as to who could have wanted to poison Professor Slughorn?'

'No idea, professor,' Harry replied with a shrug. 'Besides, in the current climate, there are quite a bunch of suspects.' He said wryly.

'Although,' he frowned as he remembered something. 'I don't think that Professor Slughorn was the target. See, before he poured the mead, he did mention something about it being "too good to give to a teetotaller"? So I think that whoever put the poison meant Professor Slughorn to give it to somebody else.'

Professor McGonagall looked slightly disturbed at this revelation. Quickly recovering, she said, 'That is interesting. Obviously the culprit behind this does not know his targets well enough. I suppose we will have to have a chat with Professor Slughorn when he wakes up. Now, rest. And do not try to sneak off or you won't like the consequences.'

Harry only nodded at this, half listening to the transfiguration professor. As soon as the stern woman had left, he let out a gusty sigh. It looked like he would be spending the next few days in the tender mercies of the Grand, er, Madam Pomfrey. He grimaced as the increase in exhaled air irritated his still tender airway. Returning from the bathroom (something he found exceptionally tiring, but was much better than having to use a bedpan) and climbing into bed, where a bowl of soup appeared on a small table on his knees, Harry suddenly froze, a spoon halfway to his mouth when he realised who could potentially be behind the poisoning.

'Malfoy, you utter moron!'

That night, Harry was visited by Randolph and Dobby who wanted to make sure that their master was well (Harry had to hurriedly shush the latter as the elf burst out into noisy tears of relief).

By the next day, Harry could actually take a breath without feeling discomfort. However, he was still weak. He was still suffering from a side effect of the poisoning. Mainly, 'Diarrhoea,' the Nurse pronounced when Harry returned from the bathroom and staggered toward his bed. 'I expected as much, isn't it a good thing that you are here now?' Tsking, she handed him a goblet of potion. 'Here, this shall make it all better.'

When his friends visited him that evening, Harry found out that while the rest of the school had heard about his poisoning, the reactions were muted. The general opinion was that it was an accident and nothing more. After all, Slughorn was the Potions master. Harry was thankful for this. He did not want the attention.

By day two of his incarceration, Harry's stomach had settled somewhat, prompting Madam Pomfrey to switch him to semi – solid food. Something Harry celebrated, even if the food was bland. The pain had also come down to a manageable level. And so, by late afternoon, Harry was bored.

His friends had their classes to attend and homework to turn in, meaning that there were no visitors. Speaking of homework, Harry did not have any as he had finished everything and it being a Monday meant that any new work would only come with his friends in the evening (as depressing as the thought of wanting homework was, Harry couldn't care less at this time since he was so bored). What was more, the nurse had decided to leave the castle for some reason or the other. Now while that hadn't been much of an issue, the fact that she had decided to ward the door to prevent Harry from walking out, was.

'But, Madam Pomfrey, what if there is an emergency and I need to contact someone?' Harry said imploringly.

There was a pregnant pause as the nurse appeared to be thinking over this. Just when Harry thought he had her convinced, she raised her wand and summoned a bell. 'Here, this bell is enchanted to alert a house-elf. Use it if there is something you need. I shall instruct the elves.'

Having said this, she then waved her wand over the door and stepped through the threshold, closing it behind her. Harry grumbled as he heard her retreating footsteps. Really, there was no cause for such distrust. Even if he thought of taking a walk to get some fresh air (not that he was), he definitely would return before she arrived! After all, it wasn't as if she couldn't just find him and drag him back if he decided on a bid for freedom. And the threat of not allowing him to play Saturday's match was more effective than some stupid magical ward.

So that left Harry with no company and nothing to do. At least he had his wand...

Harry was levitating a quill, making it twirl and dance as he looked at it with an expression of boredom when he first heard a small sound. Not paying it any heed, he continued with his attempt at passing time.

When the sound resolved itself into a more audible groan, Harry stiffened and turned to the only other occupied bed.

'Professor Slughorn?' Harry inquired softly.

The man groaned as he slowly regained consciousness. Not wasting any time, Harry used the bell.

In short order, there was some excitement as Professors McGonagall and Snape entered the room, joined a moment later by madam Pomfrey.

Slughorn was far worse off than Harry, requiring bed rest for the whole week. Harry himself was let out of the Wing the following evening, with strict instructions on what to eat till the end of Friday at least.

And so, on Thursday, Harry rejoined society. Since Professor Slughorn was not well, the seventh and fifth years were treated to a dose of Potions classes by Snape. The rest of the years were relatively luckier as the Head of Slytherin House was too busy with teaching Defence to teach all the years. They had Potions classes cancelled with reading assignments handed out to them from the recovering Potions master via their Heads of Houses.

Once he was out, Harry made sure to visit his teacher every evening, ostensibly to see if the man was doing right. His main intention, however, was to subtly remind the rather well connected man just who it was that had saved his life. Slughorn may be a suck – up, but he was brilliant in his own right, a teacher in a subject Harry wasn't all that great with, and at last but not the least, knew quite a few influential people.

And even more importantly, he now presented Harry with an opportunity to finally get that last memory.

'Professor,' Harry said as he entered the Hospital Wing on Saturday evening.

'Ah, Harry,' said Slughorn, sitting up as his favourite student walked in. He took in the young man's scarlet and gold robes 'Quidditch match?'

'Yes sir,' said Harry as he sat down on a chair next to the professor. 'Against Hufflepuff. We won.' He allowed a smile to break out on his face as he thought of the match.

After the first attempt by Zacharias Smith at commentating during Gryffindor's opening match against Slytherin, most of Gryffindor was raring to see the obnoxious boy, who would be playing as one of Hufflepuff's Chasers, taken down a peg or two for his comments against the Gryffindor team.

And so, between the Gryffindor Chasers (of which Ginny had taken particular glee in harassing the boy) and the Beaters, Smith barely got to see the Quaffle, much less hold it. Halfway into the game, Zacharias was knocked out, leaving Hufflepuff one Chaser short.

However, Hufflepuff had given an impressive performance. The remaining two Chasers, particularly Cadawaller, had proven to be tenacious, showing quite a good amount of coordination and flying talent to score. So despite Gryffindor's efforts, the Hufflepuffs were leading by ten points at three hundred and twenty before Harry caught the Snitch.

It was one of the best Quidditch matches Harry had played in. Nobody played dirty, and both teams had left the field in high spirits, without any hard feelings between them. The Gryffindors were satisfied with their revenge, and the Hufflepuffs had decided that fair was fair and that their Chaser deserved what he got.

The match was made more entertaining by the commentary supplied by Luna Lovegood. Harry had no idea what possessed Professor McGonagall to have Luna commentate (in fact, he was certain that Professor McGonagall herself had no idea either) but Luna's commentary was interesting to say the least. The blond Ravenclaw appeared singularly uninterested in such mun dane things as the score, and kept attempting to draw the crowd's attention to such things as interestingly shaped clouds. But the best part was her thoughts on Zacharias Smith, who she claimed was suffering from something she called "Loser's Lurgy." Harry had to struggle really hard to stay on his broom and not to break down into laughter when he heard that!

Thoughts of the match had Harry looking at the bed situated at the other end of the room. Zacharias was still unconscious, with a turban made of bandages on his head.

'I heard the commentary from all the way here. Miss Lovegood was ... entertaining. And it seems that you did a good job.' Slughorn said weakly.

'Hufflepuff put up quite a fight.' Harry replied.

'Indeed.' They lapsed into silence for a few moments before the professor spoke up again. 'Listen, Harry, I have to thank you again. You saved my life, my boy! I owe you. If there is anything I can do, let me know. I may be old, but I have my uses.' He started coughing.

'It was nothing professor,' Harry said humbly.

'Ah, so humble,' Slughorn said affectionately. 'But I insist! There must be something I can do for you!'

'Well,' Harry began hesitantly. 'There is one thing that you could help me out with.'

'Anything, dear boy, ask away!'

Harry looked around. Drawing his wand, he cast a few privacy wards. Confident that nobody could come in and overhear the conversation, he turned to Slughorn with a grave expression on his face. 'Professor, I know that you have given the headmaster a memory where you spoke to a student of yours. I also know that the memory that you have given has been ... altered. I need that memory if I am to destroy Voldemort.'

Slughorn's face paled upon hearing Harry's words. Before he could speak, Harry cut him off. 'I would not ask this of you if it were not that important. The fate of the wizarding world depends upon that memory. You yourself know how important that memory is. Voldemort certainly has not forgotten about the information that you gave him. Right now he is occupied with other matters. If he were to win, he will come after you. He will see you as a loose end, a risk. Your best hope is to give me that memory. Do it because you owe me if nothing else. Please, Professor.'

Slughorn looked stunned at Harry's impassioned speech. 'You ... you actually plan on killing him?' He asked in wonder.

'I plan on doing that, or at least giving it my best shot.' Harry replied fervently. 'He killed my parents, not to mention countless others. I plan on avenging my parents at the very least.'

The old man's eyes grew misty as he softly muttered, 'Lily.' He closed his eyes as a long distant memory of a bright girl with red hair and green eyes played in his mind.

'I have the best chance of killing him, Professor.' Harry said softly and earnestly. 'There is a prophecy made about him and me. And I will have a better chance of winning if you give me that memory.' He wasn't exactly lying. Having that memory meant keeping Dumbledore in the dark just a little longer. Hopefully that would be enough time for Draco to assassinate the headmaster.

Slughorn gasped as Harry mentioned the prophecy. He looked at Harry steadily before nodding. 'Very well,' he said resolutely, picking his wand up. 'I don't suppose you have a phial with you?'

In response, Harry created a crystal phial silently and handed the object over.

With muttered thanks, Slughorn touched his wand to his temple. Pulling it away, he deposited the long silver strand attached to the tip and deposited it into the empty phial.

'Please do not judge me too harshly,' he said quietly as Harry pocketed the phial. 'I had no idea then.'

'I do not hold your actions against you, professor,' Harry said softly. 'You had no idea of Tom Riddle's plans. Besides,' He shook the phial in his hand. 'You have more than made up for that.' He smiled at the old man.

Slughorn returned the smile with a strained one of his own. 'You are such a good boy, Harry.' He yawned. 'Now I need my rest, why don't you go ahead and enjoy your party. You certainly deserve it. Up Gryffindor!'

'Up Gryffindor!' Harry replied with enthusiasm. Pocketing the phial and lowering the wards, he headed to the Gryffindor Tower for the victory celebrations.

'I cannot believe this happened.' Hermione said softly to Ron.

Ron just grunted. The two of them were sitting in an empty classroom after the Quidditch match. Hermione had been trying to talk to him ever since they found out that Harry had been poisoned. Unfortunately, between Lavender and classes, she had not succeeded until now.

'I mean, it's our job to look out for him,' Hermione stood up and paced as she talked. 'Dumbledore trusted us to do this. And you heard Hagrid. The Governors are thinking of shutting the school down!'

'I agree,' Ron replied. 'But we cannot tail Harry all the time to prevent something like this from happening again. What we can do is ensure that the person behind the poisoning is caught.' He paused to give Hermione a significant look. 'We both know who the likely culprit is.'

Hermione made a frustrated noise. 'Yes, but we have no proof! Nobody is willing to listen to us without any concrete evidence on our part. All we know is that Malfoy is doing something!'

'He's pretty slippery, too,' Ron commented. 'We always end up losing him. If we only had Harry's map ...' he sighed wistfully. 'Unfortunately, as the both of us know, the wards on Harry's trunk make that impossible to take without asking him. It was easy enough before because he had never changed nor upgraded those wards ever since he put them after Ginny took the diary. But now, his trunk's practically saturated with security wards!'

Hermione grimaced at that. 'It doesn't make any difference. Dumbledore told him to keep the map and the cloak with him at all times, remember?'

'Yeah, and I doubt lifting it from his pocket is going to work again. He's probably put a few safeguards there too.'

The room was silent for a moment as the two thought about what to do.

'Do you think we should tell Harry about all of this and include him?' Ron spoke up hesitantly, bringing up an old topic that had been discussed quite a few times before.

Hermione's reply was the same as it had been. 'No,' she said, 'Let him concentrate on Voldemort.'

Drawing herself up, she continued. 'We don't need the map. We can catch Malfoy on our own. We just need to be careful and sneaky. It shouldn't be too hard. Malfoy has never been smart or stealthy. It's only a matter of time before we catch him.'

Personally Ron disagreed with Hermione, but he held his tongue. A man has to choose his battles. Besides, he wanted to get back to Common Room. The rest of the house was undoubtedly throwing a party to celebrate Gryffindor's victory. As the Keeper who had blocked quite a few shots, and had done a good job, Ron wanted to bask in the limelight and the admiration. The second reason for not wanting to argue with Hermione was that in doing so, he would end up complimenting the blond git. Something he had no intention of doing.

'Right,' Hermione's voice cut through. 'I guess that's it for now. I suppose that you'd want to return to Lavender.'

Her bitter words brought back the tension that existed between the two of them lately. Not knowing what to say, Ron just got up and left the room. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but being reminded of who was waiting for him dampened his enthusiasm for the party. Lavender had become rather possessive and clingy of late. If she wasn't so fit, Ron would have dumped her already. As things stood, he was close to dumping her anyway.

Hermione gave out a gusty sigh when the door closed. The three of them had become a bit distant with each other over the year. Ron was off in his own little world with Lavender (her face twisted in disgust at her dorm mate's name), Harry was ... well, her friend had finally started embracing his popularity and fame. Barely a day went by when Hermione did not see him surrounded by a minimum of three people. And what was more, he was now engaged to be married. That was pretty shocking.

She did not trust Daphne Greengrass. The girl was from Slytherin. Hermione initially wondered if she was with Malfoy, but then she had never seen her with the blond ponce. However, at the same time, she couldn't help but notice the glacial looks sent hers and Ron's way by the Slytherin. Yes, Hermione was sure that she was up to something.

Oh well, one thing at a time. Hermione sighed again. She was not looking forward to going to the common room. Now that Ron and Harry had gone their separate ways, she was all alone. She could never connect well with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil. And her only close female friend, Ginny Weasley, had her own social circle. Hermione supposed she could hang around them. But the fact that she was hanging out with a bunch of fifth years was not something she relished. Oh well, beggars couldn't be choosers. There was no way she could do any studying in the common room anyway.

'Draco,'

The blond jerked as his name was called. Immediately recognising who the voice belonged to, he turned and narrowed his eyes, 'Potter.'

Harry stepped out from the shadows with a smirk. 'Jumpy, are we?'

Draco sniffed dismissively. 'You are late,' he said haughtily.

Rolling his eyes, Harry checked his watch. 'Yes, about a minute. Or is it one week, a day and a minute? I'm sorry,' he said sarcastically. 'But I was indisposed. Some idiot decided to poison me.' He fixed Draco with a glare.

'Well, it wasn't my fault.' Draco said defensively. 'That old twat was supposed to give it to Dumbledore who was supposed to drink it and die.'

Harry sighed and rubbed his nose. 'And how did you get it to Slughorn?'

'I had Rosmerta give it to him.'

'I'll go out on a limb here and assume that Rosmerta is under the Imperius. So you basically intended to poison Dumbledore by having him drink mead from a bottle given to him by Slughorn which was in turn given to him by Rosmerta.' He paused to give the other boy a look before uttering four words. 'You are a moron.'

'Watch your mouth. Don't think I can't wipe the floor with you, Potter!' Draco said with venom, making to draw his wand out.

'Oooh, I am so scared,' said Harry sarcastically. 'Drop the theatrics, Draco. Because I seem to remember the last time we duelled, you ended up losing. And that was despite having the first shot. This time you don't have that advantage.' Smirking, he indicated down to his left hand with his eyes, making Draco notice the wand pointed at him.

'I see you have the latest in wand holster technology,' Draco was not successful in keeping the jealousy from showing. Insanely expensive to get in the black market, with very low numbers, only the top Death Eaters had them.

'Well, Ollivander does keep stock,' Harry remarked casually. 'Now as for your latest "grand plan" in killing Dumbledore, the reason I consider that to be moronic is because you did not do any preparation or research. If you had, you would know that Slughorn is notorious for liking the good things in life and keeping such things for himself. Ergo, he would not have parted with that bottle.'

'Yeah, whatever,' Draco said dismissively. 'I am waiting for that apology you owe me, Potter.'

Harry was thrown by the sudden change in subject. 'What apology?'

'For writing all over me!' The blond said indignantly. 'That was permanent water proof ink, Potter! I had to wash my body five times and use countless cleaning spells to get rid of it all!'

'Well, I think you might have to write to the company that makes the ink. It can't really be permanent if it came off. Besides, you did look like you needed to bathe a few times.'

Draco's eye twitched at Harry's comeback as he grasped for something to say.

'Oh, stop your whinging,' Harry said irritably, before Draco could articulate his rage. 'What are you, some sort of diva? How about we get down to business? It's getting late. I have better things to do than listen to your moaning.'

'Fine,' Draco snarled, a pink tinge on his face showing how furious he was. He glared at Harry who just raised his eyebrow with a clearly unimpressed look on his face.

Huffing, the blond started explaining the plan in detail, giving Harry the different difficulties he faced.

'So your main problem is getting the parts for the cabinet into the school.' Harry tapped his chin, looking at the cabinet. 'You get them through the passage leading to Honeydukes right? The final climb to the statue of the witch would be hard to do. Not to mention breaking into Honeydukes itself.'

'The parts have been easy to conceal so far, and the security in the sweet shop is lax,' the blond said defensively. 'I would have had Crabbe and Goyle to collect the stuff, but those two lugs nearly got caught the first time round.' He muttered under his breath. 'Idiots.'

'But it is still risky.' Harry paused for a moment. 'Right, I think I can help there. For one there is a passage behind a mirror on the fourth floor. Currently it is caved in, but I can get it repaired. I have good reason to believe that it leads to a much more accessible location. That would make it easier for Rosmerta to get the stuff to you. Of course, you still have to worry about the patrols. But I think that your prefect status helps there. I don't know if you know this, but the portraits can do a bit of spying themselves.'

Draco sneered. 'Why do you think I have to keep that bloody charm up all the time?'

'I have a way to help you get around that.'

He looked sceptically at Harry

'Don't worry,' Harry replied brightly. 'I help you so you help me. Now is there anything else?'

'Well, there are your friends. The Blood – Traitor and that Mudblood have been following me everywhere I go! Thankfully they aren't that good. They even have stopped following me off late.'

'Then I guess you don't need any help from me so far.' Harry said lightly, choosing not to react to Draco's name calling. He smirked when he saw the momentary look of surprise flash across the arrogant boy's face. Draco's petulance wasn't worth his time.

'Now, in case you need more assistance, use this.' Harry fished out a mirror from his pocket. 'I have another one just like it, say my name into the mirror, and we can communicate.'

Draco took the mirror, trying and failing to hide an impressed look from showing on his face at the ingenuity of the device.

'I'll get back to you on the portrait situation. Until next time ... cousin...' With a cheery wave, Harry melted into the shadows, leaving the scowling blond in the dark.

And here we go!

You know, they say that if you were to take an old penny, put it in a glass of Coke, and go to school, by the time you came back at the end of the day and took the penny out, the penny will be nice and shiny.

But if you take an old penny, put it in a glass of Irn Bru, and then go to school, by the time you come back at the end of the day, there won't be any penny remaining!

27. A Change in Plan

And so began the rather reluctant alliance between Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. The secret passage behind the mirror was found to be a bit too hard for the house-elves to restore, so that plan had to be scrapped. Nonetheless, Harry remained upbeat, much to Draco's annoyance.

'Just call me on the mirror the next time you need to smuggle your stuff from Honeydukes to the Room.' The dark haired boy said confidently. 'I can make sure that the goods reach you much sooner than you expect them.'

'What about the portraits ... Harry.' Draco had a pained expression on his face as he used the Gryffindor's first name. A few moments into their meeting he found out that Harry stopped responding when called by his surname.

'Oh, that's been taken care of.' Harry replied. He had spoken to a few key portraits and had used his status within the castle to keep the portraits from saying anything about Draco's presence. The castle owed first allegiance to Harry as he was Lord Slytherin. He got first preference over the other Founders' heirs, and the staff. Of course, he did not own the school, but the wards would always answer to him, so it was as good as his.

The next night, Draco called Harry from the Slytherin dorms.

Feeling his mirror vibrating, Harry made a hasty retreat up to his bed. Drawing the curtains around his four-poster and securing it with a charm, he answered the call.

'Finally,' Draco's voice sounded irritated. 'What took you so long?'

'I was busy,' Harry replied. 'Anyway, let's get cracking. Get to the Room. I will meet you there in a few.'

Saying this, Harry donned his cloak, sneaked out of the common room, and using the Marauder's Map, got to the statue leading to Honeydukes.

Thanks to his experience in sneaking out, coupled with the enchanted map, Harry was inside the Room, handing Draco the shrunken package in less than forty five minutes.

'That was fast.' Draco said with raised eyebrows. 'It normally takes me an hour.'

'Oh, well, that's nothing.' Harry said dismissively. 'Now that I know what to look for, I suspect that I will be here faster.'

Unable to contain his curiosity, Draco spoke up. 'How did you do it?'

'I have my ways.' With that enigmatic reply, Harry left Draco to his task.

From then on, Draco agreed to Harry collecting the parcels that arrived every now and then and dropping them off in The Room. Now, Draco could devote more time to repairing the cupboard. The problem mainly was that the cupboard itself was quite a rare artefact, so sourcing materials was difficult. Draco's best bet was to experiment with different types of wood, runes and enchantments. This was the main reason for the periodic nightly drops.

The evening after his first smuggling expedition, Harry was found going in the direction of the headmaster's office. Dumbledore had summoned him once again.

The gargoyle leapt aside at the mention of toffee éclairs, and Harry took the spiral staircase two steps at a time, knocking on the door just as a clock within chimed eight.

'Enter,' called Dumbledore, but as Harry put out a hand to push the door, it was wrenched open from inside. There stood Professor Trelawney.

'Aha!' she cried, pointing dramatically at Harry as she blinked at him through her magnifying spectacles. 'So this is the reason I am to be thrown unceremoniously from your office, Dumbledore!'

'My dear Sybill,' said Dumbledore in a slightly exasperated voice, 'there is no question of throwing you unceremoniously from anywhere, but Harry does have an appointment, and I really don't think there is any more to be said —'

'Very well,' said Professor Trelawney, in a deeply wounded voice. 'If you will not banish the usurping nag, so be it. … Perhaps I shall find a school where my talents are better appreciated. …'

She pushed past Harry and disappeared down the spiral staircase; they heard her stumble halfway down, and Harry guessed that she had tripped over one of her trailing shawls.

'Please close the door and sit down, Harry,' said Dumbledore, sounding rather tired.

Harry obeyed, noticing as he took his usual seat in front of Dumbledore's desk that the Pensieve lay between them once more, as did two more tiny crystal bottles full of swirling memory.

'Professor Trelawney still isn't happy Firenze is teaching, then?' Harry asked.

'No,' said Dumbledore, 'Divination is turning out to be much more trouble than I could have foreseen, never having studied the subject myself. I cannot ask Firenze to return to the forest, where he is now an outcast, nor can I ask Sybill Trelawney to leave. Between ourselves, she has no idea of the danger she would be in out side the castle. She does not know — and I think it would be unwise to enlighten her — that she made the prophecy about you and Voldemort, you see.'

Harry personally did not care. Trelawney did not remember the prophecy anyway, so there was no way on earth that Voldemort could get the full prophecy from her. Unlike Bertha Jorkins, there was no enchantment for Voldemort to find and break. That made the Divination professor useless to Voldemort. Voldemort might as well order Eric the security wizard to tell him the prophecy for all the good it would do.

Unfortunately, he did not have the power to throw a teacher out. After all, if he did, a certain-greasy haired somebody would be out at the very start of the year!

Dumbledore heaved a deep sigh, then said, 'But never mind my problems with the staff. We have much more important matters to discuss. Firstly — have you managed the task I set you at the end of our previous lesson?'

In response, Harry reached for an inside pocket and extracted the phial of Slughorn's memory, which he placed on the desk.

'Excellent, Harry!' Dumbledore said enthusiastically. 'This memory is most important to our quest. I am glad that you got it in such a short time.'

'Now, let's continue with our story from where we left off. You do remember where that is?'

'Yes sir,' said Harry politely. He then gave a short summary of what he had seen the last time they had met.

'Very good,' said Dumbledore. 'Now, you will remember, I hope, that I told you at the very outset of these meetings of ours that we would be entering the realms of guesswork and speculation?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Thus far, as I hope you agree, I have shown you reasonably firm sources of fact for my deductions as to what Voldemort did until the age of seventeen?'

Harry nodded, suppressing the urge to tell the man to hurry the hell up.

'But now, Harry,' said Dumbledore, 'now things become murkier and stranger. If it was difficult to find evidence about the boy Riddle, it has been almost impossible to find anyone prepared to reminisce about the man Voldemort. In fact, I doubt whether there is a soul alive, apart from himself, who could give us a full ac count of his life since he left Hogwarts. However, I have two last memories that I would like to share with you, which we shall view before moving on to the unedited version of Horace's memory.' Dumbledore indicated the two little crystal bottles gleaming beside the Pensieve. 'I shall then be glad of your opinion as to whether the conclusions I have drawn from them seem likely.'

'I hope you are not tired of diving into other people's memories, for they are curious recollections, these two,' he said. 'This first one came from a very old house-elf by the name of Hokey. Before we see what Hokey witnessed, I must quickly recount how Lord Voldemort left Hogwarts.

'He reached the seventh year of his schooling with, as you might have expected, top grades in every examination he had taken. All around him, his classmates were deciding which jobs they were to pursue once they had left Hogwarts. Nearly everybody expected spectacular things from Tom Riddle, prefect, Head Boy, winner of the Award for Special Services to the School. I know that several teachers, Professor Slughorn amongst them, suggested that he join the Ministry of Magic, offered to set up appointments, put him in touch with useful contacts. He refused all offers. The next thing the staff knew, Voldemort was working at Borgin and Burkes.'

'At Borgin and Burkes?' Harry repeated with raised eyebrows.

'At Borgin and Burkes,' repeated Dumbledore calmly. 'I think you will see what attractions the place held for him when we have entered Hokey's memory. But this was not Voldemort's first choice of job. Hardly anyone knew of it at the time — I was one of the few in whom the then headmaster confided — but Voldemort first approached Professor Dippet and asked whether he could remain at Hogwarts as a teacher.'

Harry let the information sink in. Voldemort wanted to become a teacher? The thought was mind-boggling. For a few moments, he entertained the thought of "Professor Voldemort" teaching... 'Let me guess, he wanted the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts?' Harry gave voice to his suspicions.

Dumbledore nodded, 'Indeed. It was being taught at the time by an old Professor by the name of Galatea Merrythought, who had been at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years.

'Needless to say, Professor Dippet turned him down, citing his age, telling him that he was too young at eighteen to teach. He had however, invited him to reapply a few years later when he had gained further experience. I was deeply uneasy about this. In fact, I had advised my predecessor against the appointment. By getting the post, Voldemort would be in a position of unparalleled power. Not only would he be able to influence a lot of young minds as a teacher, but he would have unprecedented access to the castle and be able to tap into ancient stores of magic and harness secrets that he had yet to discover. I did not think for a moment that he intended to spend the rest of his life here, but I do think that he sought to use it as a recruiting ground: a place where he could start to build his army. Naturally, I did not share my concerns with Professor Dippet, for he was enamoured with the handsome, charming and dedicated young man that was Tom Riddle.

'So Voldemort went off to Borgin and Burkes, and all the staff who had admired him said what a waste it was, a brilliant young wizard like that, working in a shop. However, Voldemort was no mere assistant. Polite and handsome and clever, he was soon given particular jobs of the type that only exist in a place like Borgin and Burkes, which specializes, as you know, Harry, in objects with unusual and powerful properties. Voldemort was sent to persuade people to part with their treasures for sale by the partners, and he was, by all accounts, unusually gifted at doing this'

'I bet he was.' said Harry, unable to contain himself. He chose to keep to himself the thought that he found it odd that Dumbledore had mentioned Voldemort's good looks one too many times. It almost made Dumbledore sound as if he lusted after the nutter that was currently terrorising the wizarding world. Harry wondered if he was being prejudiced because of the venerable wizard's ... preferences, was the polite word for it. Whether it was for young budding Dark Lords or for men was up to debate at this point.

'Well, quite,' said Dumbledore, with a faint smile. 'And now it is time to hear from Hokey the house-elf, who worked for a very old, very rich witch by the name of Hepzibah Smith.'

Dumbledore tapped a bottle with his wand, the cork flew out, and he tipped the swirling memory into the Pensieve, saying as he did so, 'After you, Harry.'

Harry got to his feet and bent once more over the rippling silver contents of the stone basin until his face touched them. He tumbled through dark nothingness and landed in a sitting room in front of what he first thought was a particularly large melting iced cake, but turned out to be an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her. He remembered her all right. Especially the look of bewilderment and shock that slowly morphed into fear just before Voldemort ended her life.

'Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene,' said Dumbledore, resuming his seat after the memory had ended. 'Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident.'

'Well, I can imagine why the Ministry Aurors would suspect the house-elf.' Harry quipped as he also retook his seat. 'Personally, if I met a person with a name like that, I would suspect them too.' He smiled to show that he was joking. He was also rather amused at how easy it was to manipulate the woman. Tom hadn't even put much effort into flattering her. It was more than obvious that he was just humouring her. Harry supposed that she was pretty lonely. Either that, or Hufflepuffs (at least the descendants of the founder) were duffers, as Hagrid had said four years back. Then again, according to Salazar, the Founder herself had quite a one track mind. Of course, the man was of the opinion that being so open and kind hearted was a weakness, and only a fool would be so trusting and blindly loyal.

'Indeed,' said Dumbledore indulgently. 'Hokey's memory was also modified, just like Tom's Uncle Morfin's memory was. Hokey confessed to putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a little known lethal poison. It was concluded that Hokey had not meant to do it, being so old and confused.'

Harry frowned. He knew for a fact that Voldemort had murdered the old woman by Avada Kedavra, not by poison. Yet, the records showed something else. He wondered if Voldemort had found a way to remove traces of a curse.

Dumbledore started to speak again, pulling Harry out of his thoughts. 'As in the case of Morfin, by the time I traced her and managed to extract this memory, her life was almost over — but her memory, of course, proves nothing except that Voldemort knew of the existence of the cup and the locket.

'By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them a while to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having always guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond doubt that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were as surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of Tom Riddle for a very long time.'

'So I guess Voldemort made off with Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup.' Harry said lightly. He had a feeling that Dumbledore was going to do his theatrics again, and pique his curiosity. Harry supposed that if he had no idea as to the purpose of Voldemort's theft, he would have been curious. 'He is quite obsessed with the Founders, isn't he?'

Dumbledore nodded, 'And the reason why he has been collecting these artefacts will be made clear when we view the memory you obtained. On that note, I think it is time to move on to the next memory.' Thus saying, he replaced the house-elf's memory and poured the latest one. 'This particular recollection happens to be mine.' He said conversationally, 'After you.'

A few minutes later, Harry took his seat for the third time. 'Another request to teach in Hogwarts,' he said with forced politeness. He could not believe that his Pensive was now stored in what was once the headmaster's liquor cabinet. The nerve! He couldn't wait to get it back...

'He wanted the Defence post again, didn't he?' he asked before Dumbledore could fill in the silence.

'Yes. The curious thing is that we have never been able to hold onto a Defence Professor for more than a year after Voldemort left.'

'I wonder why he decided to ask for the position again when he didn't want it and knew that you would not give it.' Harry remarked. He really felt happy now knowing that Snape won't be around by the end of the year.

'That reason is something that shall be made evident after we view this memory.' Dumbledore said as he held up the phial of Slughorn's memory again.

So he knows what was in the memory, Harry thought furiously. Yet, instead of explaining, he insists on playing this game.

'Well, then, after you, sir!' Harry said with inflected enthusiasm.

Albus smiled at the eagerness the boy was displaying. He could understand; after all, he had been building up to this memory for quite some time.

Harry was careful to act as if the memory was a revelation as he watched, for the second time, albeit in the third person as Voldemort confirmed his theory about the number of Horcruxes that could be made.

'He split his soul seven times,' he said, not needing to fake the disgust and incredulity he felt. It was quite shocking. 'That's what he used the relics for!'

'Indeed, Harry,' Dumbledore said with admiration. 'You have been paying attention to what I have shown you so far. Yes, the secret of Voldemort's immortality was because he has split his soul into seven parts. Six are in Horcruxes, while the seventh resides in his rejuvenated body.'

'So he has a hundred and twenty eighth of a soul left in his body?'

Dumbledore seemed confused for a moment before his face cleared up. 'I can see how you could come to that conclusion,' he said understandingly. 'It is correct on a purely mathematical point of view. However, you forget one thing. Voldemort knew that he was going to split his soul seven ways. Therefore his soul also knew that for a fact. Ergo, when he created a Horcrux he only removed a seventh of it each time.'

Harry nodded. Taking this as his cue, Albus started speaking about the process of his research. He was initially tempted to speak of the years of effort spent into uncovering Voldemort's past. After all, he had spent the time period from Voldemort's first defeat till now in that effort. It had been fifteen years. Of course, he suspected it would have taken lesser time if he had spent more time doing it, but he did have other responsibilities as well. Helping the country recover was a major priority, after all. But that was neither here nor there. Tom had travelled extensively, barely leaving traces of his presence. But Albus had persevered, and had discovered his former student's grave secret.

But the hour was growing late, so he felt it would be best to stick to the bare essentials.

Harry listened as Dumbledore basically admitted that he knew all along that Voldemort had split his soul. It gave further credence to the fact that he really had been planning on killing Harry off. Four years, my arse, was the violent thought that ran through his mind.

'Without his Horcruxes, Voldemort will be a mortal man with a maimed and diminished soul. Never forget, though, that while his soul may be damaged beyond repair, his brain and his magical powers remain intact. It will take uncommon skill and power to kill a wizard like Voldemort even without his Horcruxes.' Dumbledore said finally.

'Well, I don't really have that level of skill and power that you talk of.' Harry replied blandly. He wondered what excuse Dumbledore would give not to train Harry.

'Yes, you have,' said Dumbledore firmly. 'You have a power that Voldemort has never had. You can —'

'I know!' said Harry a touch impatiently. 'I can love!'

'Yes, Harry, you can love,' said Dumbledore. 'Which, given everything that has happened to you, is a great and remarkable thing. You are still too young to understand how extraordinary you are, Harry.'

Harry listened to the old man speak for the next few minutes, nodding and verbally agreeing at the right places. It really was a right load of crap he was being fed.

Albus watched as the boy left his office. Now Harry knew everything. Well, almost everything; Albus wondered what the boy would do when he found out the truth about the scar.

Albus hoped that the boy would be accepting of his fate when he found out. It was the only way Harry would be able to survive. Of course there was a fifty percent chance that he would not make it, but it was better than having an immortal Voldemort.

Sighing, he picked up one of his instruments. It was a soul detector, a curious little trinket, developed in Egypt by a wizard called Rashidi in order to determine when an individual gains a soul. Later on, the device had been used in the early sixteenth century to confirm that a criminal had been successfully Kissed. After proving that the Dementor's Kiss was fully effective for nearly two centuries, the device was then placed in storage, used by the Department of Mysteries for their various studies.

At least that was until Albus decided to liberate it.

Really, nobody was going to miss this device. After all, it hadn't been used for quite awhile. And Albus so loved to collect trinkets such as these. And if said trinkets could be used to help end the war, then it was all for the better wasn't it?

Just as he had done before, roughly a year back, when told about a vision that had ended up saving the life of one of his key men, Albus tapped his wand. Smoke issued out of the top of the instrument. Just as before, the thick smoke coalesced to form a writhing snake, meaning that the instrument had fully analysed the boy.

'Naturally, naturally,' he said idly wondering, not for the first time, why it represented the presence of a soul in the form of an animal. Did the animal denote a personality trait, or a talent? Nobody really knew.

Concentrating on the device in front of him, he continued. 'But in essence, divided?' It was the same question he had asked last year.

When Albus uttered this command, he expected the image to split. This generally happened (according to the script attached by the wizard who invented it) in the presence of a woman who was pregnant for two weeks. The splitting meant that the woman had two souls in her body: one that was hers, and one that was the child's.

Now considering the subject of the test had been a boy, the pregnancy theory could be safely struck out (Albus may be old, but he was sure that such a biological phenomenon was frankly impossible). So the only other conclusion he could reach was that Harry carried another soul ... or a fragment of one. In other words it meant that the boy was, unfortunately, Voldemort's Horcrux.

Dumbledore had scoured the books on Horcruxes that he had in his possession. There was no way that a soul fragment could be removed without destroying the vessel. Except if the owner of the Horcrux and the soul fragment felt remorse. And he doubted that Voldemort would feel any remorse. It was then that he had come up with this wacky plan where Voldemort would kill the soul fragment. He banked on the fact that having Harry's blood, and by extension the protection Lily had given to her son in the twisted wizard's body would make sure that Harry would not die with the fragment.

But that had a fifty – fifty percent chance success. It really was depressing. Albus thought he was being masochistic by reconfirming that the boy was a Horcrux.

However, to his surprise, nothing happened. The image did not split.

Looking at the device in front of him, he cleared his throat and repeated the question a bit louder: still nothing. The image stayed stubbornly singular.

Albus sat back and thought about this. The detector was not damaged. That was a sure fact. It was designed in such a way that only a magical curse could end it. Any physical attempts to harm it only caused it to disassemble, giving the illusion of it being destroyed.

To be sure, Albus had tested it on quite a few people over the summer. He had even (though he would never tell anybody about it) tested it in the maternity ward at various Muggle hospitals. The device was definitely working.

So it could only mean that somehow, inexplicably, through some miracle, Harry wasn't a Horcrux anymore!

But how could this be? Albus stared blankly into the distance as he thought.

Suddenly a memory of an event that happened the previous year came back to him. Quickly, he held the tip of his wand to his head and extracted the memory, depositing it into the Pensieve. Without wasting time, he dove in.

He watched as Harry threw Voldemort out from his mind. Instead of turning around to look at Voldemort reappearing and taking Bellatrix away (like his version in the memory did) Albus focused on the recovering boy. Suddenly, he descried black smoke coming out from the boy's forehead.

Smiling in relieved joy, Albus exited the Pensieve. He barely stopped himself from jumping in joy. Somehow, in throwing Voldemort out, Harry had managed to destroy the soul fragment. The boy had described that it was his heart, his emotions, his love that had ejected Tom out. Evidently it had done more than that.

'You clearly don't know how special you are, my boy.' he whispered to himself.

Laughing in exhilaration, he sank back into his chair. Quickly, he brought himself under control. Now that Harry was no longer a Horcrux, it changed everything. Or did it?

He sat back to think, bringing his fingers together under his chin in a characteristic gesture.

No, he was sure it changed nothing. Once the Horcruxes were finished, it would be relatively easy for Harry to finish Tom.

After the initial attack on Ollivander came to light, Albus suspected that the Dark Lord wanted the old Wand Maker to help with the problem of having clashing brother wands. Partially to find a potential way to subvert Voldemort, and partially to satiate his own curiosity, he conversed with Ollivander and a few other Wand Makers. They all agreed on one thing; if Tom were to use another wand, especially if it was a wand not won in a duel, then Harry's wand would be able to triumph over the Dark Lord, perhaps even destroy him.

Knowing Tom as he did, Albus had theories on what would happen when the twisted man faced Harry. He had been careful to feed information to Tom using other, more esoteric sources that using another wand would solve the problem created by the brother wands. Dumbledore knew that Voldemort would be more likely to take a wand from one of his Death Eaters. Even if he came across the information that the wand needed to be working with him, he would still see the Death Eaters and their wands as his tools, his servants.

The other scenario that would happen was if Tom somehow managed to survive the initial setback of being bested by Harry. Dumbledore was sure that in this scenario, Tom would use his original wand. It would come down to a battle of wills. He was certain that Harry would win this battle.

While Voldemort would still retain his magical power and talent even after the destruction of his Horcruxes, loosing bits of his soul would hurt the Dark Lord in ways Albus was sure the twisted man would not realise till it was too late.

Once all his Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort would not have the willpower that a person with an intact soul would possess. While it would not make him depressed to the point of wanting to end his life (Albus amused himself with images of an openly crying emotional Voldemort cutting his wrists), it would be enough that in a battle of willpower and magic, Harry would have the edge. Albus even suspected that without his Horcruxes, Tom would no longer be able to cast the Unforgivable curses properly. After all, all emotion, even hatred, comes from the soul. And with only a seventh of his left, unconnected to the rest, Tom would need to rely more on his magical power to power those curses. Harry was already Voldemort's equal in magic, he just had more willpower.

While this would prove to be a major advantage for Harry, it still did not make Voldemort any less dangerous. For there were curses out there that were far more deadly than the Unforgivable Curses. And a good amount of them did not require emotion to power them.

Harry would need some training, Albus decided. And there was a problem.

He knew that relations between him and the boy had soured. And he knew that he was partially to blame. The problem was that he did not know how to fix it, or even if he had the time to do so.

The boy's anger would need to be cooled first before amends could be made and forgiveness asked. It was mainly the reason why Albus had not mentioned the suddenly missing furniture in Grimmauld Place. There was no reason to add fuel to that fire. Besides, there were far more important things than having a proper place to sit on (Severus would disagree, though). Albus hoped that the offer of learning new spells would help mending the rift.

Perhaps that was all that was needed. Some one-on-one time with his ward ... Or former ward ... with a pang, he remembered the letter he received from Gringotts...

Oh well, what was done was done. Only the present and the future can be influenced.

With that in mind, Albus started editing his schedule again. He would need to fit in training with searching for the Horcruxes. At least he was close to finding one.

Albus paused for a moment, a thought occurring to him. He should tell Severus about Harry's scar. His spy would no longer need to pass that information along after Albus died. Then he had another thought: should he tell Harry about the scar?

After a few moments, Albus shrugged and got back to planning his schedule. He decided not to bother. After all, what the boy did not know would not hurt him. Why stir up that nest of Bowtruckles when there was no point in it? The issue had solved itself anyway.

Ronald Weasley was ecstatic!

After his latest meeting with Hermione, the two of them had upped the ante, so to speak and had started tailing Malfoy all over the castle. It was not easy as they had to do what they could only in their free time.

At first, in their attempts at tailing Malfoy, the blond was prone to taking circuitous routes, even doubling back at times, as paranoid as Mad-Eye Moody. And every time, despite their best efforts, they ended up losing the trail.

However, of late, the Slytherin was getting careless. His routes had stopped being circuitous, he would double back less frequently and the times he looked over his shoulder became rarer.

And that finally brought him to this moment today. Today was the day that Draco Malfoy had not looked over his shoulder even once. Today was the day that he had carelessly gone through the halls without a care in the world.

Today was the day that Draco Malfoy had led Ronald Weasley straight to the Room of Requirement.

They finally had him! Or to be more accurate, he, Ron Weasley, finally had him. After all, he was the one doing all the fieldwork. Hermione barely had the time, because of the insane amount of classes she insisted on taking.

Ron immediately banished the uncharitable thought, feeling ashamed of himself. Who was he to resent Hermione for wanting to learn? After all, she had the capability. Hermione was so smart...

Shaking his head, he wiped the goofy grin that kept appearing whenever he thought of Hermione off his face. Ron doubted that there was any possibility of a relationship with Hermione. He did not deserve someone as clever as her. It was this quality that he admired in Hermione that lead him to pursue a relationship with Lavender in the beginning of term. Lavender was a girl that he felt was at his intellectual level. And it was this very same quality that now was causing a strain in their relationship. Lavender was ... ditzy would be the correct word. Yes, she was ditzy, and too much of a girl. He actually started missing Hermione's intellect.

He knew he had to break up with Lavender soon, but he really could not muster the courage. The girl was quite prone to violence. Her fists may be small and her arms thin, but they still hurt when she hit him.

Hermione never hit him.

Shaking his head again, he looked at the blank wall. The door had long since disappeared. He would need to get Hermione. She would know of a way to get in.

His mind made up, Ron headed off. He had to get Hermione.

They would soon get Malfoy and foil his nefarious plot. After that, they would then come clean with Harry (who also would have some apologising to do for not believing his two oldest friends). Then the three of them could go off and get You Know Who and then finish this bloody war.

'So how did it go?' Hermione was the first to ambush him as he stepped through the Portrait.

'It was good,' Harry replied. He looked around the common room. Due to the late hour, it was only the two of them.

As Hermione opened her mouth to no doubt ask about Harry's latest lesson and what Slughorn's memory had said, the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Ron stepped through, looking excited.

'What's got you so excited?' Harry asked as he saw the ecstatic gleam on his friend's face.

'Oh, nothing Harry,' Ron said, quickly composing himself. 'I – um was ...'

'You were snogging Lavender again, weren't you?' Hermione spoke up with a look of part derision and part anger on her face.

'Yes! Yes, I was.' Ron replied, looking sheepish.

'As long as you keep it private, I have no issues,' Harry said a few moments of silence later.

Hermione gave Ron a severe look, which Ron responded with an unreadable look on his face. 'Anyway, Harry, what happened at Dumbledore's office?' Hermione changed subjects, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry felt that there was something that he was missing that the two of them were in on. Finally, he decided to let it go. He doubted it was anything important. They were probably trying to tell the other that they really wanted to be a couple, or something.

Harry spent the next half an hour retelling what had happened in the Beak's office.

'So that's it!' Hermione said after Harry finished summarising Slughorn's memory. 'Voldemort made Horcruxes to secure his immortality. It makes sense.' She started pacing.

'I bet he made three,' she said finally. 'It makes sense. Three is a powerful number.'

Harry looked at his friend incredulously. Did she not understand what he had just told her? He specifically remembered talking about Tom's obsession with the number seven!

'Actually he was talking about making seven,' he finally said.

Hermione paused for a moment thoughtfully before continuing. 'But that makes no sense. It would mean that Voldemort has barely any soul left in his body. Nobody can survive after splitting their soul so many times.'

Harry opened his mouth to tell her that Dumbledore himself believed that Voldemort had made seven, but then reconsidered. 'Yes, you might be right,' he finally said.

The look of smug triumph on her face made Harry want to immediately correct her, but he desisted. 'Well, so does Professor Dumbledore have any idea as to what they are?' she finally inquired.

'Actually, two have already been destroyed. The first one was the diary that Ginny was writing in.'

'Ginny was writing to You Know Who's soul?!' Ron exclaimed incredulously, horror on his face.

'Well, yes. Anyway, the second Horcrux was a ring that Dumbledore destroyed in the summer. It was the reason why his hand is the way it is you see,' Harry continued. He knew he was lying to his friends, but he felt that it was better this way. At least it would make it less suspicious if he suddenly came across one Horcrux rather than three.

'So that leaves his last Horcrux!' Hermione said with excitement.

'Yes, Slytherin's locket. He stole that from this old bird...' and Harry recapped the incident with Hepzibah Smith. This finally led to the last of the three memories.

'Blimey, You Know Who wanted to teach here?' Ron said incredulously. 'Why?'

'Because he wanted to do the same thing that Fudge thought Dumbledore was doing last year,' Harry replied patiently.

The room was silent as the other two digested the facts presented to them.

'Dumbledore said that he was going to be searching for the last Horcrux,' Harry finally broke the silence. 'And he also promised to take me. After that we will have to deal with Voldemort. Anyway,' he yawned widely. 'I'm heading up. I'm knackered.' With that he stretched and headed up the boy's staircase. He did not notice that Ron had not followed him, and he did not see the two of them bring their heads closer to have a furious discussion.

The next day, after swearing them to secrecy, Harry told Neville, Susan and Daphne about what he had learnt. They were understandably repulsed by the thought that someone could stoop so low as to mangle his soul and split it seven ways.

The day after that, as he was about to head down for lunch, Harry felt his mirror vibrate.

'Harry, I don't know how they found out, but it's those two!' Draco's voice, frantic and hushed sounded from the mirror after Harry answered the call.

'What? You told me that you had it taken care of!' Harry replied heatedly. Calming himself, he continued. 'Where are they?'

'Right outside in the corridor,' Draco said. He peered out of the door, looking at the two in question surprised that he felt a pang of fear at the sight of those two.

After his alliance with Harry, Draco found the stress placed on him easing up. He had started sleeping better and his performance in class had also picked up. Thanks to this, he was taking things easier as he felt that his goal was now within sight.

It seemed that he had become too relaxed for suddenly he felt his rune stone heat up. The stone was linked to a set of scales that he had Crabbe carry around when he was guarding the room. Once his classmate dropped the object, the stone would heat up, alerting him that somebody was right outside the room.

Draco hurried to the door in which he willed a peephole. Peering out, he saw them: Granger was pacing in front of the wall as Weasley was staring at the door with a look of concentration on his face.

The sight of an expression of serious thought on the ginger's face would have amused Draco if he wasn't currently feeling blind panic. He did not know what he would do if Weasley and Granger found out what he was up to.

He thought that they had finally given up tailing him! The fact that he had been duped by those two was beyond shameful.

Harry meanwhile was hurrying towards the seventh floor corridor, furiously thinking of something to say to get Ron and Hermione to come with him. Harry was quite irritated with this situation for two reasons. Firstly there was Draco. The cretin was quite the most idiotic person he had ever met, and considering that he had grown up with Dudley, that was saying something. He did not mind smuggling in the goods from Hogsmeade, but apparently expecting the twit to at least have the courtesy of trying to cover his tracks was too much of an expectation. If this continued, Harry was sure that he was going to end up holding his hand and aiming the wand at the bright hairy target that was Dumbledore. Secondly there were his friends. Of all the times they had decided to start playing detective, they had to do it now.

'Hey Ron, Hermione,' he said, with fake cheer as he rounded the corner. 'Well, isn't this a surprise.' He looked at the two of them curiously. 'Are you two talking to each other again?'

Both of his friends blushed furiously at the comment. After Harry had spoken to them about Slughorn's memory, the two had not talked to each other, except to share news about Malfoy's whereabouts. Though the ice was beginning to thaw ever since Ron had that fight with Lavender at the after match party.

'Oh, Harry,' began Hermione with a flustered look on her face. 'We were just walking and met ... it was a coincidence – I have to be getting to the library – got some homework.' With that she hastily made her exit, blushing furiously as she brushed past Harry, leaving Ron behind.

'Um, I also have to go – to, uh, practice for the next match!' Ron headed off in the opposite direction, his ears and the back of his neck flaming red.

'Ron?'

The redhead stopped in his tracks and turned around. 'Yeah, Harry?'

'The dorms are that way.' Harry said pointing behind him.

'Why would I need to go there?' The redhead asked in confusion. 'The Quidditch Pitch is that way.' He pointed behind him.

'Yes, but you will need your broom.' Harry drawled.

'Oh,' Ron's face flushed. 'Yeah, you're right. Can't go flying without it, can I?' he chuckled slightly hysterically.

'Nope, I don't think you can,' Harry replied with a bland smile. He was quite amused at this. If he did not know better, he would have assumed that their embarrassment stemmed from being found next to each other.

'See you later then, Harry,' Ron said as he reached the end of the corridor.

Harry waved the taller boy away, keeping the smile on his face. As soon as the ginger had left, Harry let the smile slip as he turned to the blank wall.

'You can come out now, Draco. The coast, as they say, is clear.'

There was no response for a moment. Then a door suddenly opened revealing the blond.

'Thanks,' he said gruffly, not looking at Harry.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Well, they have made you now. At this point, we can only hope that they don't figure out what the room becomes for you.'

'Well then, just tell them not to come here again,' Draco said dismissively.

Harry snorted, 'Funny.' Seeing the serious expression on the Slytherin's face, he said incredulously, 'You were being serious? How much of a moron are you Malfoy? I don't know if you know this, but they happen to be far more intelligent than those two bellends you hang around with! A Bludger is more intelligent than those two! The whole school has seen a Bludger outwit Crabbe, after all. They might buy that order, but we are talking about human beings that can think for themselves.'

Draco felt an uncomfortable heat rush up his neck as he glared at Harry.

Harry just pinched his nose and took a deep breath. 'Fine, you know what? Just ... whatever...' He started walking away from Draco. 'I'll see what I can do about this problem, Draco. In the mean time, try not to get caught?' Sneering over his shoulder, Harry left the blond alone.

It took a few days, but Harry found a partial solution to the problem Draco now faced thanks to his idiocy.

Extracting a piece of parchment, Harry handed it over to Draco. 'Here's a list of all the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff prefect patrols and the route they will be taking. Think you can use it to evade the "dimwits" as you call them?' The patronizing tone used at the end caused the blond's eye to twitch.

'I don't suppose you could change their patrol routes and times?' Draco asked hopefully.

'No,' Harry said flatly. 'Those have already been organised and changing them would require the Ravenclaw house captain agreeing. And he does not seem to like me, so I doubt that is going to happen soon. I doubt you would need me to change that anyway, as I have their timetables here with me.' He handed two other pieces of parchment to Draco. 'Now you know where they will be and when. I think this is more than enough.'

'It is adequate,' Draco said loftily.

Instead of replying, Harry curled his upper lip. 'Till next time, Draco.' With those words, he left for Gryffindor tower.

'Potter, stay after class, I wish to have a word with you,' Professor McGonagall said a few moments before the bell rang.

Harry packed his bag and waited in his seat as the class emptied. He wondered what the Transfiguration teacher wanted from him all of a sudden. He did not think it had anything to do with the lesson. Conjuring was pretty easy, especially when he had been practising rigorously out of class.

'I have noticed your progress over the year, Potter,' Professor McGonagall said when Harry approached her desk after the class had fully emptied. She looked at him for a few more moments before continuing. 'I feel that the class is holding less and less of a challenge for you. You have already shown an aptitude for Human Transfiguration and your Conjuring is also getting along quite well. Now I cannot have this, so I think that it is high time we stopped holding you back. That is, if you are agreeable to it?' she raised an eyebrow.

Sensing that the question asked was not really a question, Harry nodded mutely. He had no idea that he had progressed so far as to warrant special advanced tutoring in the subject. Though he should have expected it, he had been conjuring rabbits since summer while his classmates had just got birds down. He could do decent sized mammals by now. Admittedly his Human Transfiguration wasn't that good, but it was still better than most.

'Good,' Professor McGonagall said briskly. 'From next class onwards, you shall have more advanced assignments to do. I shall have the relevant material sent to you shortly. Let's see if I can still make this class a challenge for you, Potter.' Giving Harry one of her rare smiles, she dismissed him.

The next day, Professor Flitwick called him back after class and had essentially repeated McGonagall's words.

So by the beginning of next week, while his classmates were still working on conjuring rodents in Transfiguration, Harry was given the tougher task of conjuring large herbivores. In Charms he was set to work mastering the flame freezing charm, going ahead of the other sixth-years who were still working on Aguamenti.

While Harry was appreciative of Professors Flitwick and McGonagall's recognition and decision to have him move on to tougher topics, he wished that it had come a bit earlier. Most of the topics had already been visited by him.

Not that it was completely useless. Having the teachers involved helped him understand the theories and limitations of the spells better. Professor McGonagall was particularly a hard taskmaster, minutely examining his work and demanding perfection down to the last detail.

'Uh, H-Harry Potter?' a hesitant voice spoke up.

'Yes?' Harry was halfway to the tower when he was called. Turning around, he saw a third-year looking at him nervously.

'I was supposed to hand this to you,' the girl said to him nervously.

'Thank you,' he said, taking the parchment with a smile.

The girl blushed and without a backwards glance, hurried away.

Opening the note, Harry saw that it was yet another summons from Dumbledore.

What does the old man want now? He thought derisively. He pocketed the note with a sigh. It looked like he would find out soon enough.

It had been a couple of weeks since he had last met the headmaster. In that time, quite a lot had happened. For one, Draco found it easier to lose his tails thanks to the timetables Harry had given him. However, Ron and Hermione were pretty tenacious. Like a pair of dogs worrying a bone, the two would devote as much of their free time as possible to trying to find out what Draco was up to.

Draco also wasn't without his burst of inspiration. A week after the two of them had met, the blond handed a fake Galleon to Harry.

'It's got a Protean Charm on it,' the blond said shortly. 'So you can warn me when those two are outside. I will change the characters on my side to ask if they are around, and you reply back with a yes or no.'

'I know how it works, Draco.' Harry replied, amused. 'Never thought I would see the day when Draco Malfoy, Pureblood, would decide to ape Hermione Granger, a Muggleborn.'

Laughing at the ugly look on the blond's face, Harry continued, 'It took you long enough to come up with a warning system, Draco.' With a theatrical shrug he said, 'At least you got there. Better late than never, eh?' he ended with a condescending smile.

'I had a warning system in place beforehand, Harry,' the blond sneered. 'It's just that it is not viable to use the same system given the changed condition.'

'Oh, and what was that?'

At the question, Draco got a superior look on his face. 'What, didn't you notice? Well I'm not surprised you are no match for my genius, after all.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'Whatever.' He said in a bored tone.

'So, want to know what the security measure was?' Draco said haughtily after a few moments of silence.

'Bedazzle me,' Harry replied sarcastically.

'Not if you don't ask properly,' Malfoy said irritatingly.

Harry sighed theatrically and said in a bored sarcastic tone, 'Fine Draco, what is the early warning system that you had used to warn you of the presence of other people outside the room before Ron and Hermione found you?... Other than Crabbe and Goyle patrolling outside Polyjuiced to look like random first- and second-years?' he smiled blandly at Draco as he asked the question.

'Wh – how did you know?' Draco sputtered out.

'That, dear Draco,' said Harry, tapping the side of his nose, 'Is for me to know and you to find out. Not that you will.'

The slight creak of the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging open brought Harry to the present. Shaking his head he entered the Gryffindor common room.

Albus Dumbledore sat in his desk as he contemplated the past few weeks. After the last lesson he had with Harry Potter and the revelations that followed, he had wasted no time in telling Severus about the change in plans. The spy did not show it, but Albus was sure that Severus was relieved.

The next thing he had done was bring out the boy's file and see the report of his progress so far in the academic year. Seeing the marked improvement, he conferred with Filius and Minerva about their opinion on Harry's grasp of their subjects. According to the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor heads of house, Harry was showing a remarkable improvement in their subjects. Indeed, Minerva herself had specifically said that Harry would effortlessly sail through her class while the rest, Ms Granger included, were left far behind. From this, Albus decided to mention advancing Harry in their subjects.

'I cannot speak for Minerva, but I have been watching the boy's performance since the beginning of the academic year, and I was planning on starting him with more advanced material well before you brought the subject up.' Filius said.

'I was thinking of doing the same thing,' said Minerva.

'Excellent,' Albus said happily. 'Then I shall leave you to it.' He paused for a moment, considering his next few words. 'Now, I think you know the significance of why I have asked specifically about Harry?' he asked seriously as he looked at the professors over his glasses.

The two professors nodded with grim looks on their faces, Minerva's mouth had become especially thin.

'Good, then do your best to impart as much of your knowledge as you can. Harry's survival may well depend on it.'

Thanks to Minerva and Filius, Albus could see to part of Harry's training in confronting Voldemort. Unfortunately he would not be able to see to the lad's Defence training. Severus had more than made it clear last year that any time spent teaching Harry Potter individually would result in disaster with the boy learning nothing. What was more, the surly man absolutely loathed the boy's very existence and would sooner cut off his arms than acknowledge in any way that the boy was more than just mediocre.

Albus really wished that Snape could let go of his bitterness. Snape was a brilliant Potions master and more or less competent in teaching, but his acerbic manner and childish vendetta against the son of a dead man was quite infuriating. Harry's scores more than proved his point. This year, Harry's marks in Potions had gone up phenomenally, from a "D" average to "O" while his Defence marks had gone down to an "A". And the excuse that the lad had found a sudden burst of motivation did not hold any water as his rather excellent O.W.L. results showed. It simply was not possible for a student with a "Dreadful" average to suddenly get a near "Outstanding" in his O.W.L.s if he was truly bad at the subject.

Albus had initially thought of confronting Snape about it, but then decided that it did not matter in the end. After all, the O.W.L.s and the N.E.W.T.s were marked by an independent body, and Harry was more than capable of handling himself in Defence Against the Dark Arts. After all, he had taught his peers and some of his seniors the subject the last year and nearly all of them had done exceptionally well in their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. At fifteen, the boy was a better teacher than Severus Snape! Admittedly, the boy was a better teacher than quite a few other teachers he had met and had been taught by. Harry was one of the rare few who actually had a gift for teaching. Like Minerva, Filius, Horace and he, himself.

Another unfortunate thing was that Albus himself couldn't see all of Harry's training personally. Albus would have loved to play the role of teacher again after so many years of being the administrator. He did know quite a lot of Transfiguration, and could very well teach the other subjects. Had he not been injured, he would have happily cancelled all of Harry's regular classes (except perhaps Potions) and taken the boy on as an apprentice.

However, he did not have much time. It was quite a mad dash against the clock to find evidences of Voldemort's past to determine the number of Horcruxes the twisted man had made, as well as to find the hiding places for the above-mentioned Horcruxes. On top of that, there was the matter of his injury.

The curse Tom had placed on the ring was quite a rare and deadly one. It worked on the magic of a person and slowly but steadily rotted the body from the point of initial contact. There was no known cure for the curse. At least there was no known cure that could work on a man of his age. It could only be slowed down. Attempting to cut off the affected area only accelerated the curse, as did actively using magic.

While Albus could do a few simple spells now and then, he could not risk casting bigger spells without aggravating the curse.

So actively teaching Harry was not an option. Thankfully it wasn't critical as he had excellent teachers in Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick. Defence was a bit of an issue because of Severus Snape, but hopefully that would be solved today.

A knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts. 'Enter,' he called out.

At his invitation, Professor McGonagall entered followed by Professor Flitwick and lastly Harry Potter.

'Please, have a seat.'

'Um, have I come in at the wrong time, Professor?' Harry said looking at the other two teachers with confusion as they took their seats. Suddenly he noticed the seating arrangements; the teachers were all facing him and the lone chair in obviously meant for him. The significance of this was not lost on Harry as he slowly sat down. He was not only going to be meeting the headmaster alone, but with the deputy headmistress as well. Professor Flitwick's presence was a bit of a puzzle though. He wondered what he had done wrong.

'Ah, Harry, there isn't anything to be worried about,' Dumbledore said genially. 'You aren't in any trouble.

Harry observed the other two professors. Professor McGonagall was as severe looking as ever, but Professor Flitwick shared a similar expression as the headmaster. Taking that as his cue, Harry relaxed fractionally.

'I wasn't aware that I was going to be meeting anybody else, professor,' Harry finally said to Professor Dumbledore carefully.

'Oh dear, did I forget to mention that? My apologies, Harry,' Dumbledore said lightly. Clasping his hands together in front of him, he leaned forward. 'Well, at the risk of repeating myself, I will say again, that you are not in any trouble, Harry.'

'What we called you here for is to speak about your classes, Potter.' Professor McGonagall continued from where Dumbledore left off. 'As you know, Professor Flitwick and I had decided to accelerate your tuition in Transfiguration and Charms. Our understanding was that our classes were no longer providing much of a challenge for you as they used to in the years past.

'Initially, when I first started, I thought that you would find it more of a challenge and this would naturally show in your work. However, I have noticed that you show the same ease in performing the advanced material as you have been doing so far. This familiarity is quite telling, no?' Professor McGonagall said leadingly.

'Erm, I guess I am quite talented in your subjects?' Harry ended the sentence with an upward lilt as if he was asking a question.

McGonagall was not impressed. 'I see you want to do this the hard way, Potter,' she finally said pursing her lips. 'Very well, let me spell it out for you. I have taught for a long time, and this familiarity is not something I would expect to see in a person, no matter how gifted, when learning something new. In fact, it is almost as if you know what to do. Now I have spoken to Professor Flitwick and you can imagine my surprise when he told me something similar. So we have both come to a conclusion.' She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward.

'You have been practising these spells before they were covered in class.'

There was silence for a few long moments following this pronouncement as the teachers all stared at Harry who looked each of them in the eye. Finally, he nodded, 'Yes,' he said quietly. There was little point in denying this right now.

'Fair enough, Mr Potter,' Professor McGonagall said. She exhaled as she clasped her hands in front of her. 'Then I think that we should assess your capabilities.'

Harry, who at this point was expecting the teachers to forbid him from continuing, narrowed his eyes. 'Professor?'

'Harry, we are concerned with the fact that you have gone ahead with learning material on your own.' Dumbledore spoke up, indicating the other two professors sitting next to him. 'While we commend your initiative in learning material in advance, and wish that more students would continue to do so, there are risks to practising magic on your own and teaching it to yourself. Especially when it is a subject that is as a thorny and complicated as Transfiguration.'

'Indeed, Mr Potter, remember the story I had mentioned in first year about Baruffio. One slipup and the results can be quite disastrous.' Professor Flitwick, who had been quiet all this time finally said.

'Also, let us not forget that what you took a month to learn on your own could be learnt in half that time with competent instruction,' Professor McGonagall interjected. She sighed at the look of incomprehension on Harry's face and said, 'In short, Mr Potter, we do not wish to change much except ask that you allow us to supervise you now and again. In addition to that, Professor Flitwick and I shall start tailoring our teaching to match with your pace. I think you will find that learning things will become easier now.'

'And I think that it is high time I started teaching you some of the more esoteric branches of magic,' Professor Dumbledore said.

Silence followed this pronouncement as the occupants gathered their thoughts.

'So we shall meet in my office the coming Saturday, Mr Potter.' Professor McGonagall said finally. 'Eleven o'clock; do not be late.'

'Yes Professor,' recognising the dismissal, Harry got up to leave, slightly confused about what had just transpired.

And here is number 27 ... Happy New Year!

I hope nobody got too pissed celebrating!

28. The Struggle Within

I must say, I definitely did not expect such an outpouring of sympathy for Dumbledore. Well, actually, I sort of did, seeing as I wanted to portray him as a good (if misguided) guy. But, I did not expect it to be at this level!

Ron dived to the side to intercept the Quaffle as it made its way to the left hoop. Successfully catching it, he hurled it back. He was surprised when the person who caught it threw the ball back towards him and through the right hoop, scoring a goal.

'Weasley! What did you do that for? Whose side are you on?' An irate Ravenclaw in his year shouted at him, picking up the Quaffle and hurtling it to one of his teammates. Ron thought his name was Kevin something, but wasn't too sure.

It was a Saturday afternoon and he was up in the air on a broom playing keeper for... well, he couldn't really call it Quidditch. He wasn't sure what it could be called.

He was quite surprised when Harry had invited him to go flying. After all, he barely talked to his best mate for the whole year outside the times when Harry was sharing something important about the war. Ron supposed that it was his fault. He had spent the whole year trying to catch Malfoy, among other things. So he welcomed this time to spend with his best friend refining his Keeper skills for the upcoming Quidditch final.

However, that plan had to be scrapped almost immediately. As soon as Seamus heard the word "flying", he asked to join in. This sparked off a chain reaction to the point that what started out as casual flying became a full blown Quidditch match. That soon mutated because of so many people asking to join in, that it couldn't even be called a game of Quidditch anymore.

By the time they had gone out to the pitch, there were a total of twenty people from all four houses in sixth and seventh year willing to play. After some deliberation, it was decided that the Snitch and the Bludgers would not be used, just the Quaffle, with ten on each side. Dean had enthusiastically referred to the idea as "like rugby in the air".

Ron had to bite down on the irritation he felt at this. He supposed that it was natural for Harry to seek out other friends. After all, he and Hermione had essentially left the younger boy all alone. But what Ron did not anticipate was the fact that Harry had taken to his popularity with such ease.

He swerved to the right suddenly. Catching the Quaffle and sending it to Neville, who he was reasonably certain was on his team. When he saw the boy fly off to the other end, he sighed in relief at being right.

Now there was another surprise. Neville. Flying. He wasn't great at it, but he was decent enough. He had definitely improved since first year.

As much as he appreciated Harry making an attempt at keeping their friendship alive, Ron still had a difficult time fitting in with Harry's new friends. He barely knew the names of half the people there, while Harry seemed to be in his element, calling out the right people with ease and with some people, sharing what only could be inside jokes.

At least Harry was having a good time. It had been quite a while since the last time Ron had seen Harry this happy. Fourth and Fifth years weren't great for him.

But Ron couldn't help but feel a bit of resentment. Here he was, doing his best to spoil Voldemort's plans, and there was Harry. What had he done for the war so far this year? Ron supposed that it wasn't fair on his part to think like this, Harry had done quite a bit over the years, but he couldn't help himself.

Rising up, he deflected another attempt at the goal. This was quite frustrating! He did not know who was in whose team! There was a reason why there were uniforms in teams!

Harry's hand closed around the Snitch, a great roar was heard from all the Gryffindor supporters. After a year of hard practising, of blood sweat and tears, infighting and clashing egos, Harry had won the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor for the first time as Captain of the Quidditch team. The feeling was like no other. As he shook hands with the Ravenclaw Captain for a well played game, Harry reflected that the feeling of victory was better than the one he had felt when they had won the Cup in his third year.

Borne towards the stands on the shoulders of the enthusiastic crowd, Harry accepted the cup from Ginny and raised it into the air to more cheers.

The after party lasted well into the night. Every single member of the team was the centre of attention for the night, as they basked in their achievements.

To the chanting of 'Speech, speech, speech,' from the rest of the house, Connor, the seventh year prefect, climbed onto a table in the middle of the room, a glass in his hand.

With an air of exaggerated pompousness, he quieted the noisy crowd.

'First off, I would like to say "well done" to the Gryffindor team for their superb performance throughout the year.

'To the Chasers,' he nodded to each of the girls in turn, paying special attention to Katie. 'Who have kept the Quaffle out of enemy hands, and scored goal after goal.' The crowd applauded.

'To our fearsome Beaters, who have, through deadly accuracy and strength, knocked many of our opponents out of the sky.' The two in question blushed at the applause generated.

'And no one can forget our keeper.' At being mentioned, Ron turned red. 'I remember Oliver Wood, and Weasley is just as good. Weasley is truly our king!' The crowd cheered and clapped at this statement.

'And finally,' the house grew silent. 'To our Captain and Seeker. Harry, I've seen you play ever since you were a wee little firstie. At first I did not think much of you; after all, you were a scrawny little thing then. Of course, you still are scrawny.' He admitted to general laughter. 'At least you are no longer little!' he shouted over the laughter. 'Anyway, to our captain, who, despite many objections over his selection and in some cases, his general sanity, has managed to win Gryffindor the Quidditch cup! And that too on his first year as Captain! Something that Oliver hasn't been able to do!'

With that, he toasted the team and got off the table to loud applause from the house.

'Concentrate, Harry.' Dumbledore's softly spoken words permeated through the silent room.

Nodding, Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes closed and hands outstretched, hovering over the box in front of him. After an indeterminable amount of time, he hesitantly said, 'The magic around it ... it feels a bit protective?' he concentrated on the box in front of him. 'It requires something. A password of sorts?' opening his eyes, Harry looked hopefully at his teacher.

'Indeed, my boy!' Dumbledore said approvingly. 'Now can you tell me what the password is?'

'Erm,' Harry concentrated for a moment longer, "socks"?' At the last word, Harry could feel the wards fall as the box opened to reveal a sherbet lemon. Grinning victoriously, Harry reached for the sweet.

'Indeed,' the headmaster said with a small smile. He examined his pocket watch. 'In fifteen minutes too. You are progressing quite quickly. However –'

He was interrupted by a squawk of surprise coming from his student as the harmless looking sweet squirted Harry in the face with a foul smelling liquid.

'– you still have the unfortunate habit of rushing headlong into things.' The headmaster continued smiling serenely. 'One mustn't let complacency take over, Harry. If you had stopped to examine the object instead of picking it up, you would find that it is actually a gobstone.'

Coughing and spluttering, Harry sent the old man a mean look. His mouth had been open when the offending object (now sitting innocently on the floor) had squirted him, leaving him with a very unpleasant taste in his mouth that was too horrible to describe.

Giving a wan smile, Dumbledore held up his blackened hand. 'This may end up being your fate if you let that happen, Harry. Remember, neither Voldemort nor any future dark wizards will be disguising gobstones as sweets.' He said softly.

Harry nodded, sufficiently cowed by the gentle rebuke.

Being taught by Dumbledore was ... interesting. Instead of lecturing and having Harry take notes, the headmaster would explain the concept and then challenge Harry, asking him questions that required a lot of thinking. True to his word, the headmaster was teaching something that wasn't common; that was sensing magic itself. A branch of the mind arts, the main application of this subject was to detect wards set around a place. Curse breakers like Bill Weasley generally use various detection spells and then study the runes and Arithmantic numbers that are revealed afterwards. While this method was quite accurate, it was time consuming, required a solid understanding of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and there was the chance of the detection spell either setting off the ward, or alerting the caster.

Dumbledore's method of sensing the magic and the intent behind the ward scheme was a rare art, and according to the headmaster, a dying one. It required a lot of concentration, training, and experience to get right (as it was, Dumbledore was pleasantly surprised that his student got it so fast). However, once a wizard knew how to do it, he did not need to rely on arithmantic calculations or Rune translations.

The only way this could be obtained was by practice and experience. To facilitate this, the headmaster would give Harry warded objects. Harry would then have to apply the methods the old mage spoke about and sense the wards set around the objects.

It had taken Harry three weeks of daily practice under the headmaster's tutelage to get to where he currently was; which was being able to distinguish two different wards layered around one object in around fifteen minutes. He did not have any advantages when it came to this field, save for the fact that it was tied to Legilimency and Occlumency, two subjects that he was quite competent in. Nevertheless, it was still tricky. The accuracy of this art depended wholly on the person using it and his experience.

'And now, Harry, we move onto the other aspect of sensing magic,' Dumbledore said. 'And that is detecting charms and curses. The principle behind this is the same, only this time, the magic is a bit more volatile. I have here with me an assortment of boxes, all warded and containing objects within that may or may not be cursed or charmed.' He indicated five boxes placed on his desk. 'I shall be away for a week, so let's see what you can make of this.' He levitated the boxes into a bag which he then handed over to Harry. Noticing the still disgusted look on the boy's face, he clucked and said, 'Come now, Harry, the liquid shouldn't be so much of a problem! You should be able to take care of the taste left behind with magic by now.'

Blushing a bit, Harry cast a mouth-freshening charm on his mouth, sighing in relief as the foul bitter taste was replaced by the fresh and crisp taste of peppermint.

Dumbledore silently approved of the spell usage. Hopefully, Harry would start using magic a bit more. That way, he would have a better feel for his magic and know his limitations better. 'Now, do you have any questions about the spell book I gave you?'

'None so far, sir,' Harry replied. 'I have been able to cast most of the spells. I expect that I shall be done by the end of next week.'

'Good, now, in addition to this, I want you to use the same technique used to detect wards around various people,' Dumbledore said. 'Eventually you will get to the point where you will be able to sense a person by his or her magical signature. Now it isn't possible to identify every single person you meet, but you can discern who means you harm or not. Just like sensing magic, this is tied to Legilimency.'

Harry picked up the bag. 'May I ask as where you will be going for a week, sir?' he asked hesitantly.

Smiling serenely, Dumbledore said, 'You may.'

Harry sat there looking at the headmaster blankly for a moment. 'Oh, right, where will you be going, sir?'

'I believe that I am close to finding the location of one of Tom's Horcruxes. Hopefully by the time we meet again, Harry, it shall be to obtain the object.'

Upon hearing these words, a lump formed in Harry's throat.

The past few weeks under Dumbledore's guidance had left Harry feeling deeply confused. At first he was sure of his hatred for the old man and his intention of trying to engineer his death. Now he was not so certain. After all, if Dumbledore wanted him dead, why would he go through the pains of training Harry?

After the meeting in the headmaster's office with the other two professors, Harry had met professors McGonagall and Flitwick at separate times for them to find out how far he was in their subjects. The two teachers were quite impressed with his progress so far, as it was halfway through the syllabus for seventh year. So from then on, Harry would then meet professor McGonagall once a week for further instruction. The Transfiguration teacher had him conjure animals made of metal, and was at the same time teaching him how to transfigure the material of an object without changing the object itself. A good example of this was the Duro charm.

His lessons with Professor Flitwick happened twice a week. Along with teaching Harry new spells, the Charms master would also duel with the boy. Harry appreciated having another duelling partner. While Neville and Susan were good partners, they really weren't that much of a challenge. And the Room of Requirement could not match the inventiveness and out-of-the-box thinking that Professor Flitwick showed.

'This,' squeaked the short man, showing Harry an incantation and the accompanying wand movements, 'Is an area wide calming charm. The Aurors primarily employ it to calm down large mobs. Can you tell me how it can be used in a duel, Mr Potter?'

Harry thought about this for a moment before giving up.

Smirking, the Charms Professor replied. 'The Unforgivable Curses require emotion to power them, most notably hatred. Now with a calming charm, the hatred is reduced. When the hatred is reduced – '

'– the curses lose their potency!' Harry said with dawning realisation. 'That is so simple!'

'Indeed, Mr Potter,' Professor Flitwick said enthusiastically. 'Not many people think of using such a charm as it is quite overlooked. However, its effects do not last very long, especially if you are facing a determined opponent well versed in the mind arts. So I wouldn't be expecting anything by casting this charm on the Dark Lord if I were you, Mr Potter. But a normal Death Eater should be susceptible enough.'

The one thing that Harry soon found himself looking forward to, much as he did not want to admit it, was the time he spent with Dumbledore. What time he did not spend detecting wards, he spent refining his skills in Occlumency. Dumbledore, Harry found, was quite an engaging teacher. The anecdotes the man would share were amusing, and tended to distract Harry from the Legilimency probes the old man would launch randomly while having a conversation with Harry.

Along with that, the headmaster would also lend books from his private collection.

'What you will see in most of these tomes, Harry, are spells that are not pleasant,' Dumbledore said when lending the first book from his collection. 'Some of them may even be classified as "dark".'

'You don't agree, sir?'

'No, not really,' the old man said after a pause. 'While some of the effects within are indeed gruesome, they lack the malice that true Dark magic has. I think you may find spells such as those in the Black family library.'

Harry involuntary shuddered as he thought of some of those spells.

'I see that you have seen those spells,' Dumbledore commented lightly. 'What are your thoughts on them?'

'I don't think I will be trying out any of those in a hurry.' Harry said with a disgusted look on his face.

'I would hope not,' Dumbledore replied. 'Those curses require a lot of negative emotion to power them. Most of them are in fact quite unnecessary, not to mention addictive. After all, why go through the pains of turning your opponent inside out when there is an equally powerful and more effective cutting curse? Most of true Dark magic has applications only in torture or subjugation of will. A spell need not be designed to kill to be classified as Dark. Of course there are exceptions, the most notable of them being the Killing Curse. But I am sure as you have read, you know why it is considered an Unforgivable Curse.'

Harry took a few moments to digest this. 'I don't quite –'

'I have no illusions of what you will eventually end up doing, my boy,' Dumbledore said tiredly. He sighed and looked at Harry mournfully.

Harry did not reply as he frantically tried to hide the rising panic from showing. Did the old man know what he was planning?

'As much as it pains me so, I know that you may end up killing by the time this war is over.' The old man finally said. 'My hope is that you don't end up falling to the Dark side.'

'You don't have to worry about that sir,' Harry said, surreptitiously exhaling in relief.

And this brought Harry to his current dilemma. A few weeks back, the headmaster's plans for the war were alien and not something Harry agreed with. At that time, Harry could distance himself from the old man. Think of him as something not human.

Now ... now, things had changed. Along with teaching Harry, Dumbledore would also engage Harry in conversation. Initially, Harry was closed off and distant. But the headmaster had persevered, more often than not giving his opinion of things regarding current matters and his reasoning for thinking thus. This in turn made it hard for Harry to hold onto the hate.

It was easier to hate a monster than a human. And in the past few weeks, Dumbledore had more than managed to show his humanity.

Talking to Dumbledore and spending so much of time with the man had rekindled some of the positive feelings Harry had for his headmaster. At times Harry wished that the old man had not bothered taking an active role in his training. At least this way, things would not be so confusing.

On one hand, there was what the man had done to him in the past. At the same time, he was obviously trying to make up for his mistakes, judging by the effort he had put into teaching Harry and connecting with him.

However, Harry was sure that Dumbledore was planning on engineering his death. But, on the other hand, he had to wonder about that. He had searched hard for a hint of malice on the ancient wizard's weathered face, a small hint that proved that the man did not think of Harry as anything more than a pawn, finally coming to the conclusion that either Dumbledore was a skilled actor, or he really was being sincere.

He also had to wonder ... 'was the headmaster holding back on the lessons because he was waiting for a sign from Harry. Did he feel that Harry was not ready until he had proven his dedication this year?

Harry thought back to the first five years at Hogwarts. His marks weren't too bad (at least in the first third and fifth year exams). They were slightly above average, in fact. However, at the same time, they weren't exemplary. Was the headmaster looking for excellence before deciding to spend time training Harry?

Did the headmaster really want Harry dead? If he did, then why was he training Harry? True, one could argue that it was a bit late, but at the same time, in Dumbledore's defence, Harry also needed to grow up. There was a reason why a person was taught magic properly from the age of eleven, and not earlier. It was a well established fact even a thousand years back that eleven was the safest time a witch or wizard could start performing spells safely without stunting their magical growth.

Harry even began to doubt if the headmaster actually knew if he was a Horcrux. Could it be that the comment made during his second year was meant to be something entirely different?

He almost wanted to call off the whole kill-the-headmaster business.

But then there was Draco's task. Not only had Harry promised to help Draco, but he had also sworn an Unbreakable Vow. It meant that he had no choice but to help Draco kill Dumbledore. To go against that would mean death. And Harry did not want to die. The very thought of calling off the whole idea made his magic twinge, warning him that he was close to breaking his Vow.

There was no way Harry could even warn Dumbledore and tell him about Draco's plans. After all, it was Harry himself who had put in that aspect of the vow. For the first time Harry wished he wasn't so paranoid.

Really there was no other choice. He had to help Draco kill Dumbledore. At least his vow said that he only had to help. He had no obligation to kill Dumbledore himself for Draco. As far as Harry was concerned, helping Draco repair the cabinet was help enough to fulfil his end of the bargain. The rest was up to Draco.

And, considering whom Dumbledore was, Harry was sure that the headmaster was more than a match for a bunch of adult Death Eaters and one sixteen year old Death Eater. It would be more than easy for Dumbledore to fight them off, especially when he had the Order and the teachers patrolling the castle. And Harry knew that they were around every night.

Harry also could thin the ranks out too, use his cloak to stay invisible and hex them unseen and unnoticed.

Dumbledore would understand. It was for the Greater Good after all. By helping Draco, he would have an easy way to end Voldemort. The headmaster kept Snape working both sides after all.

Yes, this was for the best. Harry really had no other option. Things would work out for the best.

It was risky, and it put the headmaster's life in possible danger, but Harry couldn't care much about that. While he didn't actively want the man dead, it did not mean that he had fully forgiven the headmaster. Harry was still a bit bitter about his placement at the Dursleys for one. Not to mention Dumbledore's rather cavalier attitude with Harry's possessions and life in general.

Harry still was wondering if he should mention to the headmaster that he had all the Horcruxes in his possession. That was a sticky bit of news, and he did not know what he should do with it. Logically speaking, he should tell Dumbledore. After all, the man was working with him. But something stopped him from mentioning it. Harry was not sure what, but he was reluctant to impart this bit of news.

Thinking about studies got Harry thinking about Hermione. While he did concede that absorbing a fragment of Voldemort's soul had given him an edge over other students. He still resented the fact that the girl thought he was cheating. He had put in hard work to understand the notes left behind by the Half-Blood Prince, and also had worked beforehand on the material to learn the spells. It would be more than easy for him to just use the knowledge and notes to coast through the classes by putting in the least amount of effort. What was more irksome was the fact that Hermione resented the fact that he was outstripping her. Really, she needed to lighten up.

Andrew Mitchell got out of his father's Mercedes, eager to get inside his house. His father had just given permission to let him go to Thorpe Park with his mates the next day. All he needed right now was to speak to his mother, make a few phone calls and he was all set. It would be a great way to spend the holiday that had come up in the middle of the week thanks to the school closing for some administrative reasons.

'Hello,' he said, stopping suddenly when he saw the stranger standing on the footpath outside their house. He studied the man looking intently at their house. The old man had waist long hair and a beard just as long. But that wasn't what caught the teenager's attention. No, what had drawn Andrew's eye towards the man was the flamboyantly cut suit. Andrew was sure he had never seen a suit in that shade of purple. Scratch that, he wasn't aware that they made suits in that colour in the first place!

'Um, can I help you?' He asked uncertainly. He looked around. It was as if the old man had appeared out of nowhere. Andrew had not seen him while they were pulling in. He was sure he would have noticed somebody so ... ostentatiously dressed.

Bright blue eyes behind a pair of half-moon glasses turned to gaze upon him, and Andrew got the feeling of being x-rayed as the man regarded him. 'Oh, yes, is this the Mitchell Residence?' The man said in a strong voice that sounded as if it belonged to a person more of his father's age.

'Yes, it is,' said his father from behind him, obviously having parked the car in the garage. 'And who may you be?'

'Ah yes, I am Albus Dumbledore.' the old man said genially, 'I would offer my hand to shake, but I am afraid that it is rather fragile at the moment.' He held out the blackened appendage as if to prove his point.

'Ah,' said Dr Oliver Mitchell. 'Well, I am afraid that I cannot look at that at the moment. Perhaps you could come by my practice tomorrow? Although I think you need to go somewhere with better resources if you ask me. Like a hospital.' He trailed off as he examined at the hand from afar with a look of pity barely disguised by his professional mask.

'Oh, no Dr Mitchell,' laughed the man airily, waving his blackened hand. 'I am not here for my hand. As much as I wish it otherwise, I am afraid that there is nothing that can be done about it.'

The old man sighed deeply as he leant back in his chair. Tonight was a quiet night. A night best spent reminiscing. He looked around him. The house he was sitting in was built by his own two hands. It wasn't a large mansion by any means, it certainly did not live up to the fantasies he had created as a youth, but it was big enough. It had five bedrooms, and was in a quiet and respectable enough neighbourhood ... not bad for a person with his background.

He never knew his parents. His father died before he was born, and his mother had given him up when he was three instead of opting for rehabilitation.

He was one of the few in his orphanage to have finished his School Certificate and the only one to go further and achieve his Higher School Certificate. After that, he had taken up a job as a mechanic in a garage. Through a lot of dedication and hard work he had managed to get a managerial position in the garage. And with the help of his beautiful wife (whom he had grown up in the orphanage with) he had managed to expand the business and start a chain of service stations.

Now here he was at seventy five. He had a beautiful wife who had only become more beautiful as she aged. His three children, a doctor, a geneticist (some sort of scientist, he was told), and a senior executive working in an advertisement company were prospering and living content lives. And he had a horde of bright grandchildren. Besides his wife, he did not know what had happened to his fellows at the orphanage. And to be frank, he really had no desire to find out. Sure there were times when he wondered what had happened to his old friends, Billy and Eddie, but those times were fleeting. His dear Amy (who had gone to visit their daughter and the new baby) wholeheartedly agreed with his sentiments.

There were just too many bad memories of their childhood. Memories that both of them were glad to be rid of.

'Dad, there is someone here to see you.' The voice of his oldest son broke him out of his reverie.

'Hm,' he looked up to see Oliver standing there in the doorway to his open study, a tall bearded stranger that looked to be his age (if not older) standing behind him. He stared at the ostentatiously dressed man for a moment in disbelief before gathering his wits.

'Not to be rude, but who are you?' he said as he stood up.

'My apologies,' said the old man genially striding forward, 'I am Albus Dumbledore, and I was wondering if I could have some of your time. It is a matter of great import.'

The old man grunted in response as he sat back down. 'Very well, please, sit.'

'Now, how may I help you,' he said when his son had left and it was just the two of them.

'I am afraid that I will have to bring up a bit of the past, Mr Mitchell,' Dumbledore said as he tented his fingers together. 'Or is it Mr Dennis Bishop?' At those words, Dumbledore's blue eyes looked up piercingly at his host.

Dennis Mitchell's heart stopped beating for a few moments as he heard the surname he was born with. He wanted nothing to do with his past. Neither with his mother, nor with that damned orphanage. So he had changed his name, secure that he had outrun the memories. Now, fifty years later, it seemed the past had come back.

How did Dumbledore know his real name? Both he and his wife had been careful in keeping it from the children, and they had never even thought of using that name once it had been officially changed.

He hoped that the man in front of him did not know the other name from his past that he so wanted to forget.

Upon a windy cliff just outside a village an old man appeared. The wind ripped at his clothes, flung his hair back and ruffled his beard as he surveyed his surroundings.

Taking out his wand, Dumbledore cast a charm that negated the effects of the particularly windy night on his hair. He let it ripple his robes, however. He did not want to use more magic than was necessary. Besides, the effect of his cloak and robes billowing was, in his opinion, rather impressive. More was the pity that nobody was around to see it.

He moved slowly to the cliff, away from the village.

It had taken a lot of work, but he had finally managed to browbeat that Muggle into revealing the spot the orphanage had taken the children to for a day trip. It was probably a good thing that he had suggested, via Legilimency that the Muggle have a drink of calming potion before he interrogated him, judging by the expression of terror on Dennis's face when he heard Tom's name. And that was under the effects of the potion. He probably would have had heart failure without it.

As it is, he was quite distressed when Albus had spoken his true name. It was probably a blessing that he had the memory of the meeting removed. Let Dennis spend the winter of his life in blissful happiness.

Finding Dennis Bishop or Amy Benson, the two Muggle children that Tom had terrorised in his youth was quite a lot of work. Albus was reminded of the names when he saw the memory of his first meeting with Tom in the Pensieve with Harry. It had been a small offhand mention, and Albus had not given it much thought the first time he had met Tom. But now, almost sixty years after that ill-fated meeting, the incident that Mrs Cole had mentioned in passing had a different significance.

Knowing his former student, Albus knew that as Voldemort, Tom would covet the cave where he had showcased his abilities and proved himself to be superior. So it stood to reason that he would use this place to hide one of his Horcruxes. Tom was quite predictable that way.

The problem was that while he knew where the orphanage took its children on a day trip, he did not know which cave it was. The answer to that question could only be given by one of Tom's victims, Dennis Bishop or Amy Benson.

Of course, finding the two individuals in question was another matter altogether. It had been more than six decades since Tom had done what he had done. And anything could have happened to those two orphans. Since Albus had some contacts in the Muggle world as Chief Warlock, it was a simple matter of using those contacts to try to trace at least one of them.

At first it looked like the trail had gone cold, that both of them had possibly died (those Muggles were an inconveniently short lived sort) but then an application for a name change had cropped up from a very old file. From there it was simply a matter of finding out where the man now lived. And from then, it was all in Albus's very capable hands.

It was quite interesting that the two traumatised children had married each other. The romantic in Albus found it touching that two souls would be brought together by one harrowing experience. But that fact really did not mean much to him. He already had the information that he had come for.

Reaching the edge of the cliff, Albus peered at the bottom, trying not to let the vertigo get to him.

If he remembered the Muggle's directions (provided Dennis himself remembered the directions) then the cave should be right ... there.

Albus saw the cave in question. The exterior looked just as Dennis had described it. He did have a good memory after all.

Looking down, Albus chose a spot halfway down the cliff and apparated to it. He needed to get a closer look.

From his new vantage point, Albus had to marvel as to how a child barely ten years old managed to ferry himself and two others down such a sheer cliff. The path was steep and treacherous.

Focusing on the cave entrance again, he extended his magical senses. He could feel a faint amount of evil coming from it, a hint of wrongness that suggested the existence of something that should not be there. There was also the suggestion of Tom's distinct magical signature.

Yes, there was no doubt about it. That was the cliff where Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop had seen the true nature of Tom Riddle and experienced a fragment of the power and cruelty he wielded now as Voldemort.

He would love to go inside now, but then common sense prevailed. Tom had used a lot of exotic and seldom heard of Dark Spells and wards to guard his first Horcrux. There was no telling what protections surrounded this one. They would be numerous. So he would need help in retrieving this one. As it was he had trouble getting the ring, forget destroying it.

He would come back with Harry. This would surely test the boy's training. Albus knew that this was literally throwing the lad into the deep end (and that was not counting the depth of the water separating the cliff from the cave) but there was no other way for it. At least, here Albus would be able to guide his young protégé.

"Protégé" ... now there was a word he hadn't thought of using to describe Harry. In fact he had never used that word to describe any of his students (and he had quite a few favourites before). But the term fit Harry.

Lost in his thoughts, Albus absently Disapparated from the cliff and reappeared inside just behind the Hogs Head.

While he would have loved to go in and make the ruse foolproof, he really could not bear the hostile stares of his younger brother. Not when his death was so close. Alas, that was one problem that he had not solved, and could not solve. It seemed that he would die being hated by his brother, the one remaining member of his family.

Albus stopped for a moment as the pain hit him, waiting for it to pass by. The aches were becoming more frequent. And this long excursion had not helped any. Along with the pain was the bone deep ache that he was new to and did not expect to feel for another seventy years at the least.

Leaning against the wall, Albus took a few deep breaths, getting his body under control. He could not afford to look this weak in such a public place. He grasped for the potion phial.

Downing a small sip, he waited for a while for the potion to take effect. When he felt his body reenergised from the energy potion that Severus had started supplying, he strode off to the castle.

He was growing increasingly dependent on them. It was his fifth phial today. Severus had warned him that they were dangerously addictive. To which he had just given the younger man a bland look and said that since he was dying anyway, he had no problem with that.

At least he had mended some of the hurts that he had caused Harry. The boy had moderated his hostile glares, and the feeling of tension and friction that had accompanied their discussions off late had reduced noticeably.

It wasn't enough to earn him full forgiveness from the teen, but Albus was fine with that. As long as the boy moved past the hatred, bitterness and anger, Albus was happy.

'It does not do to dwell on dreams,' as he kept saying. These were the words of wisdom made by a lonely old man who had committed a lot of mistakes in his past. These words had seen him through all these years.

Shaking his head, Albus entered his quarters. It had been quite a while since he had last thought of the past. He was getting melancholic in his old age.

The potion had worn off by the time he reached his bed.

As he tiredly sank down on his bed, Fawkes took off from his perch and flew towards the headboard of his bed, singing softly all the time.

Phoenix song was another thing that was keeping him going now. Albus was positive that he would have been bed ridden much sooner, energy potions or not, if it wasn't for Fawkes. It was too bad that the phoenix could not do anything to cure him of the curse. Indeed, Fawkes had cried quite a bit on his hand before giving up. In the end, the phoenix, much to its obvious distress was relegated to just using his song to help him.

Smiling gently at his one true friend, Albus got ready for bed, falling asleep to the phoenix's crooning. He needed rest, and needed a lot of it. In the coming Saturday, he and Harry would go and retrieve the object. Were he much younger, the first thing he would have done is gone to Harry's dorm and practically dragged the boy over the very minute his feet touched Hogwarts. Had he been injury free, he would have gone the next day with the boy. However, he was much too tired to do anything, and he would not be able to recover till the next Saturday. But Dumbledore was not concerned. The Horcrux had waited this long, it could wait a few more days. Idly, as sleep claimed him, Dumbledore wondered which one it would be. Would it be Hufflepuff's cup, or Slytherin's Locket?

Draco Malfoy sat back as he looked at the cabinet. With trepidation, he looked over the notes he had made and consulted the complex rune diagram. Slowly, he felt elation. He had finally done it!

It had taken months of work, weeks of labour and days of toiling, but he was very close to having the cabinet fixed.

All it needed was one more part, and one more charm. Then a test run to be sure. But he was sure that it was done.

Now at least the Dark Lord would not kill his family.

Draco breathed out a sigh of relief. All that was left now was to eliminate Dumbledore. Then, his year, and perhaps his time at Hogwarts would be done.

All of this would not have been possible without Harry. However reluctant he was to admit it, he really could not deny the truth. Draco was sure that the cabinet would have taken longer to get fixed if it wasn't for his former school rival. It was funny how time could change people.

Draco knew that he would have to help Harry get to his master. He cursed the oath that he had made that compelled him to assist Harry.

Well there was nothing he could do but hope that Harry succeeded in killing the Dark Lord. Because otherwise, it won't take long before He figured out just who had betrayed his location.

Draco had full intentions of making up a story about how he managed to appeal to Potter's arrogance and lead him like a lamb for the Dark Lord to slaughter if that happened.

A small part of Draco did not like doing this. After all, the two of them had become – well, he wouldn't use the word "friends", and he doubted that they ever would be friends, but they weren't exactly enemies either. But one had to look at the realities of life. The Dark Lord was pretty powerful, and Harry just a sixth year.

Besides, he was sure that Harry had thought of doing something like this with Dumbledore. Potter would be extremely stupid not to. Draco had no illusions about his chances for success either.

Oh well, each of them could only do their best.

He removed Harry's enchanted mirror. 'Harry Potter.'

Harry felt the mirror vibrate. Casting a few wards around him he took out the mirror not seeing his reflection, but Draco's face. 'Yes?'

'The cabinet is nearly ready.' Draco said, with emotion colouring his voice. 'All it needs is one more panel, which should come tomorrow night. And if the test run is successful, it should be operational. And I have a good feeling about the test run.'

'Good, I'll meet you then with the panel. We shall discuss this further then. Right now, I am a little busy.' Saying this, he terminated the connexion just as he sensed McGonagall approach the room.

The very next night, Harry appeared suddenly in front of Draco. 'Here you are,' he said, as he handed the parcel to him.

'Thanks,' Draco said as he reverently took the last panel. 'We're almost there!'

Harry could see the blond's hands trembling. 'Yeah,' he said quashing his own jittery feelings.

'How long do you think this will take?'

'A day or so,' Draco said. 'Then I have to carve in the final rune. After that, the activation charm. If the cabinet is repaired properly, then we move on to testing it.'

'I hope you have done everything right, Draco. Otherwise, the results won't be good.'

The blond chewed his lip. 'I don't even want to think about what will happen if I made a mistake,' he said.

'I'll check everything again, just to make sure,' he finally said after a long pause. 'It will set the completion back by a day or so, but better safe than sorry at any rate.'

'Yeah,' Harry replied. He took in a shaky breath. 'Well, tell me when you are done.' With that, he left the Room of Requirement.

Harry spent the next hour tossing and turning in his bed. Things were moving too fast! He thought he had more time. He had to decide now. Should he fully help Draco, or switch sides at the very last moment? Was the headmaster really out to kill him, or was it possible that the old man did not know about Harry's scar and never did have the intentions of killing him?

More importantly, should he come clean with his knowledge of the Horcruxes, or should he continue pretending that he had no idea about their existence?

A thank you to Miss Lalla for betaing all my chapters so far.

29. The Past Resurfaces

Woohoo! Another chapter in less than a week! Even I can't believe it! By the way, I have something very important to say to some of my readers at the end, so it would be a good idea if you did read the A/N at the end.

Monday morning dawned all too soon for Harry. After his morning run, he made his decision. By the time he made his way to the Great Hall, he reaffirmed that decision. The headmaster would be back from whatever mission he had gone for by now, at least that is what Dumbledore had mentioned. Harry would meet the headmaster for his regular lesson and then tell him everything about the Horcruxes. It was obvious that the headmaster had no designs to end Harry's life. So all that was keeping the two of them apart was what the headmaster had done to Harry in the past, mainly by placing Harry in an abusive home and then not doing anything when he knew of the abuse (Harry still maintained that Dumbledore knew from the beginning). It wasn't something he would ever forgive him for, and Harry was sure that he would hate him for it till the day he died. However, this was war. There was a great enemy out there that was out to get Harry and subjugate the wizarding world. So in the interest of his survival, it would behove Harry to set aside this grudge and work with the headmaster.

Once the war was over and the dust had settled, however, Harry fully intended to have nothing to do with the man, no matter what was offered to him; be it a proposal to learn some of the most obscure magical subjects thought to have been long lost to man or be it an invitation to teach in the school. He. Was. Done.

The only time he would even go near Dumbledore after the war would be if he had little to no choice. That was a decision Harry was sure of. As much as the thought pained him, he wasn't going to step inside Hogwarts as long as Dumbledore was there as headmaster.

Though he doubted he would need to wait that long. The headmaster was pretty old anyway. He would have to die sometime

As he loaded his plate, Harry observed the staff table. All the other teachers were there save for Professor Dumbledore.

Harry frowned; normally the headmaster was one of the first people to arrive. The fact that he wasn't there obviously meant that the headmaster had yet to return from whatever quest he had set out to do. Harry really hoped that he had not gone after one of the Horcruxes.

From what he knew of the locations of each of the Horcruxes, the most likely one that Dumbledore would be searching for would be the Locket.

Harry had spoken to Kreacher in April. He had noticed a peculiar expression on the elf's face when he was examining the locket that was in Number 12. Curious, he ordered the elf to tell him what the elf was thinking.

The resulting story had Harry shocked and intrigued at the time. Apparently, Voldemort had not given the locket to Regulus as Harry had initially thought. No, Sirius's little brother had actually stolen the locket ... from right under the Dark Lord's nonexistent nose. And it seemed that Voldemort had no idea about the theft! If he had, then Harry was sure that he would have acted by now.

It looked like the Black family had produced more than one brave son.

Afterwards, more out of curiosity than anything else, Harry had interrogated Kreacher at length about the security surrounding the cave where the Locket was initially hidden. From what he found out from the elf, and his own subsequent research, getting out of the cave alive with the Locket would be very difficult indeed.

Harry dearly hoped that the headmaster had not set off to try to retrieve something that did not need retrieving.

Suddenly with a flash of fire, a small scroll of parchment accompanied by a box dropped in front of Harry's breakfast plate, startling the boy.

Recovering from his shock, Harry picked up the scroll and placed it in his pocket, ignoring the stares throughout the Great Hall. Hastily finishing his breakfast, Harry left the hall with the unopened parcel and ducked into an empty classroom. Unrolling the parchment, he saw that it was a letter from the headmaster telling him that while he had returned to Hogwarts, he would not be able to hold their regular meeting and would only be able to meet Harry on Saturday evening. Until then, the headmaster had given Harry a few more charmed and warded objects that he had prepared beforehand for Harry to sense and reveal.

There were also instructions for Harry to practise developing that sense till he could tell, just by being close to an object, whether it was cursed or not.

The week seemed to fly by for Harry, waiting as he was on tenterhooks for Draco to finally finish his task as well as dreading the time when he would have to come clean with the headmaster. Before he knew it, it was Saturday evening and Harry was headed towards Dumbledore's office for the fateful meeting. Harry was equally looking forward to, and dreading the impending encounter he was going to have with Dumbledore.

It was not easy admitting that one was wrong, but it seemed that Harry had no other choice but to admit the fact that he may have been wrong about the headmaster's designs. Indeed, a small part of Harry still voiced objections. The voice, sounding a lot like Daphne, kept telling him about the ways Dumbledore had manipulated him, it kept pointing out the evidences to the theory that Dumbledore saw Harry as nothing more than a pawn, something to be sacrificed. The voice was still whispering that it would be a mistake to trust the headmaster so readily, that the past few weeks were all a front. No matter what Harry did, that voice was still there, urgently whispering away. Thankfully it was getting weaker as well.

Draco let out a slow and relieved breath as he sank down to the floor in front of the cabinet. The runes were carved in perfectly, and there were no conflicts. He had checked and double checked. Now there was nothing for it but to cast the activation charm.

Taking a deep breath and hoping that he had not missed any errors that he had made in the carving, Draco started casting, concentrating on the words that he had to say and the wand movements he had to make while ruthlessly pushing away any doubts creeping in about the places that he may not have checked. He could not afford to let any hesitation creep into his voice as he incanted the long winded spell, as intent was just as necessary to complete the spell as were the words.

Finally with the last syllable enunciated, and the final wand movement completed, Draco felt the magic rush out from his body, through his wand and settle on the cabinet. He watched, fascinated, as the runes lit up, one by one, in an ethereal blue for a moment before disappearing altogether.

Draco held his breath and stood in front of the cabinet, ready to bolt if the cabinet blew up in his face. It occurred to him for a moment that he should really think of finding something to hide behind, just in case.

But after a near minute of nothing happening, Draco relaxed his taut body, letting out a gusty sigh of relief. It looked like it had worked. But before he could dare to get his hopes up, he needed to test it first.

And that was where the rat sitting next to him came into play. Taking out a Sickle, Draco tapped his wand, changing the seemingly random numbers and letters etched on the side to spell a message.

Hgwrts cbnt rdy

Borgin felt his coin heat up. Glancing at it, he replied.

Gr8 stndng by

Draco grimaced at the message. He really hated butchering the English language in such a way, but there were only so many letters and numbers that could be etched onto the side. There was no room for punctuation marks, and vowels had to be entirely sacrificed to make room for the numbers. So making sense of the consonants was very challenging and took some getting used to. It was a good thing that Draco knew Borgin and his style of messaging. Being acquainted with the shop owner's "handwriting" of sorts, help make the task easier.

Taking the rat next to him out of its cage, Draco carefully placed the squirming animal in the cabinet. He had nicked it from the Transfiguration classroom, as he did not know if the cabinet was supposed to work the same way for conjured animals.

Closing the doors, Draco waited with bated breath. The squeaking had immediately stopped as soon as the doors had shut. But it did not mean that the rat had made the journey successfully. Draco anxiously waited for confirmation, burning a hole into his Sickle with his eyes.

Suddenly it started heating up as the letters changed.

1 ntct rt fnd blk

Draco squinted at the message. If he wasn't mistaken, Borgin had asked if the rat that had suddenly appeared in the cabinet's twin in Knockturn was a black one while mentioning that it was intact. To this he crafted his reply.

Ys

Gd Sndng bk Rcv

As soon as Draco saw the message, he heard squeaking from his end. Elated, he opened the doors to find the same rat that he had initially shut inside the cabinet.

Picking it up, Draco examined the squealing rodent minutely. The animal was alive, and all four of its flailing limbs seemed to be in place. So the cabinet was working!

Feeling his heart about to burst with joy, Draco messaged Borgin.

Rt ntct

There was a pause.

Cngrts

A wide silly grin breaking out, Draco pulled out the enchanted mirror.

'Harry Potter.'

Harry had just stepped out of the Gryffindor common room when he felt his mirror vibrate. Hastily ducking into an alcove that was fairly hidden from view, he hurriedly cast a few silencing wards before donning his cloak. Once invisible, he answered the mirror.

'Harry! It's ready!' Draco's voice, barely restraining his excitement came from the other end.

'Good, that's good,' said Harry with a fake smile plastered on his face. 'Listen, I have to meet the old man soon. Once I speak to him, we can plan something out. Till then, wait in your common room, got it?'

It was a combination of Draco being ecstatic at his success and the camaraderie that the two had developed over the time that lead to Draco not objecting to Harry's order, something that would have had him scowling only months before.

Nodding, Harry, cut the connexion.

Draco pocketed the mirror. Unable to contain himself anymore, Draco started whooping with joy as he threw all the notes he had accumulated over the year up in the air in celebration. His elation was so great, that he couldn't help but dance a little as the loose leaves floated around him, whooping even more.

His celebrations, however, were interrupted in a heart stopping moment when he heard the door suddenly and rather unexpectedly open. 'Who is there?' called out a voice belonging to an adult woman.

Sybill Trelawney was not having a great time. At first, things were rather dandy with her having a nice cushy job teaching children to open their inner eye. Nothing was more satisfying than being paid to do the one thing you loved. And Sybill loved Divination.

The art was rather arcane, and not many people had the aptitude for it and so scorned it openly (a certain stern Transfiguration mistress came to mind here) but the benefits were more than worth it! To be able to tell the future before it happened ... to be able to prevent events from happening, or to manipulate the future to one's own gains. The thought always caused a shiver of pure unadulterated pleasure to run down her spine.

It was better than sex, in her opinion.

But things had taken a nasty turn for the worse last year when that accursed woman had come into the castle.

Sybill remembered having done a reading the summer before, and had not understood the portents the crystal ball had tried to show her. She had spent a week agonising over the meaning of the vision of a frog swallowing a dragonfly before giving it up as hopeless.

Sometimes Apollo tended to mess with his oracles.

It was only when she saw Dolores that Sybill realised what it could possibly mean. And it was only after she was sacked did she realise whom the dragonfly represented (much to her irritation).

And to make matters worse, Dumbledore, the one person she had respected had actually gone and hired a centaur of all things to teach the children how to unravel the mysteries of the future!

Didn't he know that they were once human oracles cursed by Apollo because they had chosen to abandon him for Poseidon? It was quite a fitting punishment. They and their offspring will be one with the subjects of the Lord of Horses for all eternity.

Now while Sybill really had no problems with magical creatures, she was naturally, as a servant of Apollo, against such abominations.

Of course, Minerva disagreed.

'Stupid Minerva,' Sybill muttered imprecations under her breath.

But it didn't change the fact that the, the nag was still around. Despite her protests and explanations, the thing was still corrupting the minds of all those poor children.

It made her blood boil. If it wasn't for the unfortunate innocent children still needing proper direction, Sybill would have left long ago!

As it is, she had taken to asking for direction from Apollo himself. To do so, she had to enter a state of bliss.

Unfortunately, her abilities in meditation weren't as great as the Oracles of Delphi (or as she liked to think of them, The Sanctimonious Bitches of Delphi Who Thought They Were Above Her). On top of that, she felt that her time was running short. So Sybill turned to shortcuts: by imbibing herbs and similar potions to enter her state of nirvana.

One of these potions was a delightful Muggle invention called "cooking sherry". Not only did it taste good, and while it wasn't as potent as some of the magical herbs and mushrooms, it did the job of getting her close to a higher state. It truly was ambrosia.

Of course, there was a downside to imbibing so much of this wonderful potion. For one, imbibing it showed in her breath and body odour. It had not taken long for the headmaster to threaten to take action against her for what he termed as "drinking on the job".

She never thought that the wise and venerable headmaster capable of being so ... crass. Really, how dare he pretend that she was nothing but some drunken tramp on the street!

The inner eye was above such things such as drinking for pleasure!

While leaving Hogwarts was beginning to sound like a better idea day after day, Sybill did not have any desire to see the inside of a cell, Ministry or Azkaban. She also had the children to think about. So she had to be careful. She would only imbibe when she had sufficient free time. Something that she had in abundance, thanks to that horse.

Of course there was the problem of destroying the remnants of the potion. The bottles the wonderful ambrosia came in (which, by the way held a lot of potion, unlike Snape's phials) were cumbersome, and Sybill would not let the house-elves clean this up for she feared that they would then report it to the headmaster.

She couldn't Vanish the bottles either. She rather liked the labels. Besides, she did not know the Vanishing Charm. Such thing was for those fools stuck in the present.

So she had consulted The Cards. They had led her to this wonderful room where she could hide her things.

Sybill grumbled to herself as she headed towards the hidden room. She really hated all this cloak and dagger business. All of this would not have happened if it wasn't for that Umbridge woman. Sybill chuckled to herself. The arrogant woman should have listened to her warning. Now it was too late.

Too bad she could not go and gloat in her face. She had so wanted to, but The Cards had warned her against such an action. And The Cards cannot be denied. She patted her pocket where she kept the cards.

Pacing three times and thinking of what she wanted, she opened the door that appeared.

She was surprised when she heard the sound of a person celebrating enthusiastically within the room. The cards hadn't shown her that!

'Who is there?' she called out curiously. She had no idea that somebody else had found this magical room.

Draco's heart finally restarted, going at double the rate. Adrenalin soon flooded his system as he heard a person shuffle inside the room slowly. That sounded like a professor! He wasn't sure who, but he was definitely certain that it was a member of the teaching staff!

Bugger! He thought angrily. It figures that now of all times somebody would manage to find the room! Not for the first time did Draco wish that it was possible to place wards on the door of the room. Merlin knows how much he tried with no result.

Thinking quickly, Draco plunged his hands in his pockets. He almost cried out in relief when he felt the packet of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.

Hastily, he poured some of the powder out in his non-wand hand as he gripped his wand tightly. From the sounds the professor was making, her gait was rather unsteady. Perhaps it was because she could not pinpoint Draco's exact location. So it meant that Draco had the element of surprise.

He could not be seen. If he was seen, then Dumbledore would know and the game would be up. That could not happen. Not at this point when everything was in place!

Silently and swiftly, Draco hurried towards the professor. It was not hard to locate her as she was still calling out loudly while making quite a ruckus.

Leaning against a corner, Draco pointed his wand at the wall facing him and wordlessly incanted a reflecting charm. The reflection showed the back of a woman with an obscene amount of shawls draped around her body. Instantly Draco recognised her as the batty Divination teacher. Draco had heard about Sybill Trelawney and could make only two conclusions about her. Either she did not have the gift of her ancestor, Cassandra, or she was a charlatan pretending to be related to the celebrated seer.

Draco memorised the layout before he cancelled the charm. As he prepared to launch his assault, he caught a whiff of alcohol, and realised that the woman's speech was a bit slurred as she muttered to herself. Clearly the woman had been drinking. The empty bottles in her arms proved that beyond a doubt. Taking care of her would not be a problem.

Not wasting any time, Draco spun out of his hiding place and flung the powder at her. Instantly the world became dark. Knowing that the door was straight behind the woman, he cast the banishing charm at the now screeching and no doubt flailing woman, ejecting her from the room. And judging from the crash, those bottles had followed suit.

On the way to the headmaster's office, Harry heard a scream and a crash.

The noise was coming from a corridor nearby. Concerned, Harry sprinted towards it, his wand at the ready, hurtled around another corner, and saw Professor Trelawney sprawled upon the floor her head covered in one of her many shawls, several sherry bottles lying be side her, one broken.

'Professor —'

Harry hurried forward and helped Professor Trelawney to her feet, managing to hide the grin from his face at the undignified sight of the Divinations professor. Some of her glittering beads had become entangled with her glasses. She hiccupped loudly, patted her hair, and pulled herself up on Harry's helping arm.

'What happened, Professor?'

'You may well ask!' Trelawney said shrilly. 'I was strolling along, brood ing upon certain dark portents I happen to have glimpsed …'

But Harry was not paying much attention. He had just noticed where they were standing: There on the right was the tapestry of dancing trolls, and on the left, that smoothly impenetrable stretch of stone wall that concealed a certain room. Harry had a good idea as to what had happened. There was a way he could use this to his advantage.

'Professor, were you trying to get into the Room of Require ment?'

'… Omens I have been vouchsafed — what?' She sud denly looked shifty.

'The Room of Requirement,' repeated Harry mentally rolling his eyes. He was not interested in her drinking habits. 'Were you trying to get in there?'

'I — well — I didn't know students knew about —'

'Not all of them do,' said Harry quickly, trying to hurry the topic along. Waving his wand and depositing the empty sherry bottles in her arms, he gently chivvied the professor forward and away from the room, telling himself that he was doing this to allay any suspicion that might come to this room. For good measure he shot a silent look towards where he knew the door would appear as if to say you owe me. 'But what happened? You screamed. … It sounded as though you were hurt. …'

'I — well,' said Professor Trelawney, drawing her shawls around her defensively and staring down at him with her vastly magnified eyes. 'I wished to — ah — deposit certain — um — personal items in the room. …' And she muttered something about 'nasty accusa tions.'

'Right,' said Harry, glancing down at the sherry bottles and catching himself halfway through rolling his eyes. 'But you couldn't get in and hide them?'

He knew that the woman had managed to enter. After all, she was thrown out of someplace. And there weren't any rooms here. But he needed her to say the right words, so that he could do something about Draco and his task.

'Oh, I got in all right,' said Professor Trelawney, glaring at the wall. 'But there was somebody already in there.'

'Somebody in —? Who?' demanded Harry. 'Who was in there?' Please say Malfoy, please say Malfoy, he thought desperately.

'I have no idea,' said Professor Trelawney. Damn thought Harry. He quickly turned his attention on the woman. She looked slightly taken aback at the urgency in Harry's voice. 'I walked into the room and I heard a voice, which has never happened before in all my years of hiding — of using the room, I mean.'

'A voice? Saying what?'

'I don't know that it was saying anything,' said Professor Trelawney. 'It was … whooping.'

'Whooping?'

'Gleefully,' she said solemnly, nodding.

Harry stared at her. Mentally he was trying to imagine Draco Malfoy of all people whooping in glee.

'Was it male or female?' He had to tread very carefully here. So far his magic had not reacted, meaning that he had not done anything against the Vow. But he wasn't out of the woods yet.

'I would hazard a guess at male,' said Professor Trelawney.

'And it sounded happy?'

'Very happy,' said Professor Trelawney sniffily.

'As though it was celebrating?'

'Most definitely.'

'And then — ?'

'And then I called out "Who's there?"'

Harry's eye twitched. Of all the stupid – 'You couldn't have found out who it was without asking?'

'The Inner Eye,' said Professor Trelawney with dignity, straight ening her shawls and many strands of glittering beads, 'was fixed upon matters well outside the mundane realms of whooping voices.'

'Right,' said Harry hastily; he had heard about Professor Trelawney's Inner Eye all too often before. 'And did the voice say who was there?' Like Draco was that stupid. Come to think of it actually, that was a possibility.

'No, it did not,' she said. 'Everything went pitch-black and the next thing I knew, I was being hurled headfirst out of the room!'

'And you didn't see that coming?' said Harry, unable to help himself.

'No, I did not, as I say, it was pitch —' She stopped and glared at him suspiciously.

'I think you'd better tell Professor Dumbledore,' said Harry. 'He ought to know Malfoy's celebrating —' he stopped in midsentence as his magic gave a rather violent jerk. 'I mean, that someone threw you out of the room.' He started sweating. He had come close there! So far, as long as he said nothing regarding the task, he was clear. He had to remember that.

Of course, that did not mean that Trelawney couldn't do his job for him. Harry wasn't violating the Vow here. The Vow was specific. He had to help Draco, which he had done. He also could not say anything about the task without Draco's permission. And that's where Trelawney came in. Now all he had to do was get her to talk and make Dumbledore suspicious enough to be prepared when Malfoy came. True, this would potentially hinder Draco's task, but Harry had not sworn to help and not hinder. He was only sworn to help. At least that was the angle he was going for. He hoped it worked. Otherwise Voldemort would have one less task to do.

To his surprise, Professor Trelawney drew herself up at this sug gestion, looking haughty.

'The headmaster has intimated that he would prefer fewer visits from me,' she said coldly. 'I am not one to press my company upon those who do not value it. If Dumbledore chooses to ignore the warnings The Cards show —' Her bony hand closed suddenly around Harry's wrist. 'Again and again, no matter how I lay them out —' And she pulled a Card dramatically from underneath her shawls. '— the lightning-struck tower,' she whispered. 'Calamity. Disaster. Coming nearer all the time …'

'Right,' said Harry again. 'Well … I still think you should tell Dumbledore about this voice, and everything going dark and being thrown out of the room. …'

'You think so?' Professor Trelawney seemed to consider the matter for a moment, but Harry could tell that she liked the idea of retelling her little adventure.

'I'm going to see him right now,' said Harry. 'I've got a meeting with him. We could go together.'

'Oh, well, in that case,' said Professor Trelawney with a smile. She dumped her sherry bottles unceremoniously in a large blue-and-white vase standing in a nearby niche.

'I miss having you in my classes, Harry,' she said soulfully as they set off together. 'You were never much of a Seer … but you were a wonderful Object …'

Harry did not reply; he had loathed being the Object of Profes sor Trelawney's continual predictions of doom.

'I am afraid,' she went on, 'that the nag — I'm sorry, the cen taur — knows nothing of cartomancy. I asked him — one Seer to another — had he not, too, sensed the distant vibrations of com ing catastrophe? But he seemed to find me almost comical. Yes, comical!'

Her voice rose rather hysterically before tapering off into mutterings of 'heretics.' Harry wrinkled his nose as he caught a powerful whiff of sherry even though the bottles had been left behind. The woman was two steps from being completely pissed!

'Perhaps the horse has heard people say that I have not inherited my great-great-grandmother's gift. Those rumours have been bandied about by the jealous for years. You know what I say to such people, Harry? Would Dumbledore have let me teach at this great school, put so much trust in me all these years, had I not proved myself to him?'

Harry mumbled something indistinct.

'I well remember my first interview with Dumbledore,' went on Professor Trelawney, in throaty tones. 'He was deeply im pressed, of course, deeply impressed. … I was staying at the Hog's Head, which I do not advise, incidentally — bedbugs, dear boy — but funds were low. Dumbledore did me the courtesy of calling upon me in my room. He questioned me. … I must confess that, at first, I thought he seemed ill-disposed towards Divination … and I remember I was starting to feel a little odd, I had not eaten much that day … but then …'

And now Harry was paying attention properly for the first time, for he knew what had happened then: Professor Trelawney had made the prophecy that had altered the course of his whole life, the prophecy about him and Voldemort. Did she remember the night in question? Had she seen the scum who had told Voldemort the prophecy and got him, Neville and their parents targeted?

'… but then we were rudely interrupted by Severus Snape!'

'What?'

'Yes, there was a commotion outside the door and it flew open, and there was that rather uncouth barman standing with Snape, who was waffling about having come the wrong way up the stairs, although I'm afraid that I myself rather thought he had been ap prehended eavesdropping on my interview with Dumbledore — you see, he himself was seeking a job at the time, and no doubt hoped to pick up tips! Well, after that, you know, Dumbledore seemed much more disposed to give me a job, and I could not help thinking, Harry, that it was because he appreciated the stark con trast between my own unassuming manners and quiet talent, com pared to the pushing, thrusting young man who was prepared to listen at keyholes — Harry, dear?'

She looked back over her shoulder, having only just realized that Harry was no longer with her; he had stopped walking and they were now ten feet from each other.

'Harry?' she repeated uncertainly.

Perhaps his face was white to make her look so concerned and frightened. Harry was standing stock-still as waves of shock crashed over him, wave after wave, obliterating everything except the information that had been kept from him for so long. …

It was Snape who had overheard the prophecy. It was Snape who had carried the news of the prophecy to Voldemort. Snape and Peter Pettigrew together had sent Voldemort hunting after Lily and James and their son. …

Nothing else mattered to Harry just now.

'Harry?' said Professor Trelawney again. 'Harry — I thought we were going to see the headmaster together?'

'You stay here,' said Harry through numb lips.

'But dear … I was going to tell him how I was assaulted in the Room of —'

'You stay here!' Harry repeated angrily.

A few days after he had told Neville, Susan and Daphne about the prophecy, Harry had spoken to Neville privately. He had told the other boy about the fact that the prophecy could have very well meant Neville. Harry had also mentioned that it was more because of the prophecy than anything that had lead Bellatrix and the rest to attack the Longbottoms after Voldemort's downfall.

Needless to say, the other boy's hatred for Bellatrix had gone down some. It was now replaced by the nameless Death Eater scum that had initially pointed Voldemort's nonexistent nose towards their families.

Except now, Harry knew the name. And he had a face as well.

It was Snape. It had always been Snape. Snape, the greasy haired dungeon bat. Snape, the Potions master, the biased Death Eater Head of Slytherin house.

Snape, the same Snape for whom Dumbledore had vouchsafed was on their side and not Voldemort's.

It was that thought that froze Harry mid-stride at the beginning of the corridor that led to the headmaster's office. Dumbledore knew what Snape had to have done. Harry was sure of it.

And just when Harry was thinking that Dumbledore held no more secrets of his life from him...

Harry remembered every single insult Snape had thrown his way, from the first Potions class all the way to today. The fact that the same man was responsible for his parents' death was too much to bear. That Dumbledore knew about this and willingly let Snape do what he did regardless, even going so far as to force the two to work together was what made Harry finally snap.

He wanted to storm up that office and rage at the man who allowed this. How could Dumbledore let that murderer teach here at Hogwarts? How could he let such a man run free among normal law abiding citizens, teach children, blatantly favour students from his house, and let him bully other students? How dare he force Harry to work with that bastard?

But Harry mastered his anger. The hot waves of fury were smothered by the cool of magic as Occlumency soothed his frenzied mind till Harry was thinking clearly. They then tempered the rage till it was a blizzard more dangerous than the fire.

The moment Harry stepped on the moving stairs, he made a split decision. He was not going to tell the old man anything about the Horcruxes. The headmaster clearly held more secrets, so why should Harry divulge any of his? After all, it wasn't as if Dumbledore had told Harry outright the truth of his life until forced to. So why should Harry willingly give any of his secrets?

There was also the possibility that the headmaster held more secrets regarding Harry's life. And Harry knew just the method to find them.

His mind made up, and a cold smile on his face, Harry knocked on the door.

Once he was sure that the coast was clear, Draco practically skipped back to the Slytherin common room. His mission was in the final stages of completion! Now all he had to do was mount the attack. The problem was when. Should he do it when Dumbledore is in the castle, or when he leaves, like he regularly does? Both options had advantages and disadvantages. With Dumbledore in the castle, it would be hard for the Death Eaters to fight him as the element of surprise would be lost and the wizard would be more than prepared to fight them off. The old man was too powerful and skilled.

If the man left then the Death Eaters could at least prepare in advance. However, at the same time, there was a chance that the old man might not return on the same day. So the advantage might be lost there. Hogwarts was Dumbledore's home turf. The Death Eaters were basically going behind enemy lines, and Draco knew that one does not stay there for too long.

Perhaps Harry could help him with this...

Thinking thus, Draco cast some privacy charms and took out the mirror.

'Harry Potter.'

After a few minutes of silence, and looking at the black surface of the mirror, Harry's face swam into view. 'Yeah?' he said.

'So what was that meeting with the beak all about, Harry?'

The other boy was silent for awhile before speaking. 'Do it tonight. The headmaster and I shall be leaving in a few short minutes. We shall be arriving in about an hour or so. Plan accordingly. Now, I have to go. Good luck' with that, the connexion went dead.

'Good luck to you too, Harry.' Draco said in a moment of sentimentality. Pocketing the mirror, he stood up. It was time. Dispelling the wards, Draco left for his dorms. He had some preparations to do.

He never noticed the hook nosed figure standing in a darkened corner. And he definitely would not have, seeing as the figure was hiding under a Disillusionment Charm.

'It shall happen tonight.'

Albus did not show any visible reaction to those words. 'You are certain?' he said.

'Yes. I saw him making plans. I do not know with what, or exactly what he said, as he had put up wards, but I do know that it is going to happen tonight. The boy is too excited and he is up in his room, preparing.'

'Well, this complicates things.' Albus said with a furrow of his brow. 'Harry and I shall be going out on an expedition tonight.' He leant back and gazed out of the window, thinking. 'Well, there is nothing to it. We shall cross that bridge when we get to it.' He sighed again.

The man standing in front of him seemed to hesitate. 'You sure you want to take this route? Surely there is a cure. Just give me some time.'

Albus chuckled in response. 'Time, my friend, is something I do not have anymore.' He held up his wand arm, pushing back the sleeve all the way to his shoulder. The portraits watching him hissed as they saw the blackened appendage.

'Soon, the curse shall reach my heart,' Albus said dispassionately. 'It shall slowly wither it away, guaranteeing that I have a week of painful existence left before I depart. No, it must be done this way. At least, I can control how I die. That is something few can claim to do.'

The other man was silent before he nodded. Placing a phial on Albus' desk, he said, 'To last the night.'

'Thank you,' Albus said. Downing the contents, he stood up and moved to the window, gazing out into the early summer sky. The sun was setting, bathing everything in a blood red. It was beautiful in a way. 'It's a good day to die,' Albus said absently. The evening sky was clear, hinting at a clear summer's day tomorrow. He hoped his funeral would happen then. He could picture it now. His casket being lowered as the birds sang under a periwinkle blue sky. The imagined beauty brought tears to his eyes. Shaking his head, he focused back on the present. He supposed that it was rather morbid that he was thinking about his funeral, but he was going to be dead before the sun rose anyway. So he really did not care.

'I trust you know what to do later on?' He told Severus Snape, his trusted spy.

'Indeed, I remember the change in Potter's condition. I have made my preparations.' The man said in his usual clipped tones.

'Very well,' Albus sighed. 'I guess that it is goodbye then, old friend.'

'Goodbye, Albus.' Severus replied quasi-emotionally. Opening the door, he swiftly strode out.

'Goodbye, my boy.' Albus said into the empty room.

He had little to no time now. Quickly, he strode to the glass cabinet where Gryffindor's sword was stored. While he knew it rightfully belonged to Harry, he did not know if the Ministry would allow the boy to keep the artefact. There was a possibility that Harry did not know of his heritage, and if the rumours were true, then Rufus and Amelia were working very closely. They might confiscate that sword just to spite Harry or get him to work for them. On top of that, Albus was sure that Tom had his agents placed within the Ministry despite the Minister's best efforts. So the sword could not fall into the wrong hands.

Lifting the Disillusionment Charm, Albus opened his portrait and placed the sword within. Closing the portrait, he was about to put the charm back up when he realised that there was no point in doing it.

Every headmaster ever since the sixteenth century had a portrait made of theirs which they placed under a Disillusionment Charm. Once the headmaster left, the Charm would then be lifted so the portrait could advise the next headmaster.

Albus knew that this was his last night here. So that charm would anyway disappear after his death. There really was no point in casting the charm.

Turning to his desk, Albus checked his documents. His will was ready. He truly hoped that Harry would be able to forgive him eventually. Especially for failing to tell him about his heritage (something that Albus had honestly forgotten to mention). Hopefully the small bequests he had left the boy would make up for it.

Once that was done, Albus turned to the Pensieve. He had included a few phials of vital information in the form of memories. One of them was the memory of him telling Harry all the information about his heritage. It was in all probability too late, but it was better late than never.

Once that was done, his eyes fell on the Snitch. He had completely forgotten to take the ring out. And there was no time to do that. Oh well, he shrugged. He was planning on destroying the power of the Elder Wand anyway. There was no harm in Harry finding the second Hallow. Perhaps he would find it, perhaps he wouldn't ... at the least it would be thrown or destroyed and at the most it would be used as a memento. The story of the Hallows was quite obscure and had few followers anyway.

With that, Albus picked up his travelling cloak, glanced once around his office and left for the last time.

In his hurry he had forgotten something vital. Something that he wished he had taken with him.

Pocketing his mirror, Harry hurried towards the dorms. Picking up his regular travelling cloak, he was about to don his Invisibility Cloak when he realised something. Hurriedly he went to the common room. Collecting Neville, Ron, and Hermione after locating them in opposite parts of the room, he led them to the sixth-year dorms.

'Listen,' he said in a hushed and urgent whisper. 'Dumbledore and I are going out for a short while to retrieve a certain artefact,' he gave them a meaningful look. While he knew that Neville did not get along well with Ron and Hermione, there really wasn't any time to brief them separately. Besides, they needed to work together here.

Once he was sure they had understood what he meant, he continued. 'Somehow my gut is telling me that something big is going to happen. So I want you on alert just in case things go pear shaped. Make sure nobody gets in or out of the dorms. Neville, alert Susan and Terry, you know the charm. I will do the same for Daphne.'

Seeing them nod mutely, Harry nodded. 'Good,' he said. 'Now I have to go.' The three of them could only watch dumbly, unable to articulate the questions that were burning in their minds as Harry disappeared in his cloak and slipped out.

Once Harry was outside the Common room, he turned around to the Fat Lady. 'Madam,' he said.

'My Lord?' the painting replied.

'I have a feeling that something big is going to be happening soon. Keep the tower under lockdown. Do not let anyone but I, or Professor McGonagall enter.'

'Yes, my lord.' With that the painting sank into the wall as a section of the wall covered it. Where the portrait once stood now was a blank stretch of wall with the Gryffindor lion inset.

That done, Harry sent off a Patronus message towards Daphne telling her to warn the junior and senior prefects to keep everybody in. Not that they would have much of a choice, seeing as the entrance would soon be sealed. As soon as his stag cantered off, he noticed another streak of silver follow it, splitting off in two different directions. Knowing that Susan and Terry would be informed, Harry then had the house ghosts stand vigil over the dorms.

Once the ghosts had floated off, he put his palm on the Gryffindor lion. 'Seal' he hissed, visualising the entrances to the Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff dorms. A tingling in his magic along with the fading of the lion was all the confirmation given to him that it had worked.

The eagle knocker and door to the Ravenclaw tower along with the painting guarding the Hufflepuff dorms were covered by a hidden section of the wall, while the Slytherin entrance glowed briefly. None of them would open until Harry unsealed them himself.

Harry doubted that any of the teachers would know about what had happened. The protections that were placed by Slytherin himself did not do anything to the wards. They just made the entrances harder to find. The walls were also charmed resistant to magic, so blasting the entrances open would not be easy.

Harry then quickstepped it to the main entrance where he knew Dumbledore was waiting.

Draco was waiting in the Room of Requirement when he felt the Galleon heat up.

Bringing it up close, he saw the message from Rosmerta.

D hs lft

This was it! Now he had to act.

Quickly he took out his Sickle.

30 min

'It will not be necessary for us to enter,' muttered Dumbledore, glancing around. 'As long as nobody sees us go … now place your hand upon my arm, Harry. There is no need to grip too hard, I am merely guiding you. On the count of three … One … two … three …'

Harry turned, squeezing through space and time, leaving behind the sights and smells of Hogsmeade, feeling Dumbledore's arm. Soon enough, he was standing in cool darkness, breathing in fresh, salty air and hearing rushing waves.

A light, chilly breeze ruffled his hair as he looked out at moon lit sea and star-strewn sky. He was standing upon a high outcrop of dark rock, water foaming and churning below him. He glanced over his shoulder. A towering cliff stood behind them, a sheer drop, black and faceless. A few large chunks of rock, such as the one upon which Harry and Dumbledore were standing, looked as though they had broken away from the cliff face at some point in the past. It was a bleak, harsh view, the sea and the rock unrelieved by any tree or sweep of grass or sand.

'What do you think?' asked Dumbledore. He might have been asking Harry's opinion on whether it was a good site for a picnic.

'They brought the kids from the orphanage here?' asked Harry, who could not imagine a less cosy spot for a day trip. Seeing nobody around, Harry took off his invisibility cloak and pocketed it.

'Not here, precisely,' said Dumbledore. 'There is a village of sorts about halfway along the cliffs behind us. I believe the orphans were taken there for a little sea air and a view of the waves. No, I think it was only ever Tom Riddle and his youthful victims who visited this spot. No Muggle could reach this rock unless they were uncommonly good mountaineers, and boats cannot approach the cliffs, the waters around them are too dangerous. I imagine that Riddle climbed down; magic would have served better than ropes. And he brought two small children with him, probably for the pleasure of terrorizing them. I think the journey alone would have done it, don't you?'

Harry looked up at the cliff again and felt goose bumps.

'But his final destination — and ours — lies a little farther on. Come.'

Dumbledore beckoned Harry to the very edge of the rock where a series of jagged niches made footholds leading down to boulders that lay half-submerged in water and closer to the cliff. It was a treacherous descent and Dumbledore, hampered slightly by his withered hand, moved slowly. The lower rocks were slippery with seawater. Harry could feel flecks of cold salt spray hitting his face.

'Lumos,' said Dumbledore, as he reached the boulder closest to the cliff face. A thousand flecks of golden light sparkled upon the dark surface of the water a few feet below where he crouched; the black wall of rock beside him was illuminated too.

'You see?' said Dumbledore quietly, holding his wand a little higher. Harry saw a fissure in the cliff into which dark water was swirling.

'You will not object to getting a little wet?'

'No,' said Harry, while thinking yes. The water looked to be really cold. And it hit Harry that he had not swum much, aside from the swimming he had done in the large Prefects bath. And here he was, about to dive into open sea.

'Then let us take the plunge.'

And with the sudden agility of a much younger man, Dumbledore slid from the boulder, landed in the sea, and began to swim, with a perfect breaststroke, toward the dark slit in the rock face, his lit wand held in his teeth. Giving the water a look of trepidation, Harry followed.

The water was icy; Harry's waterlogged clothes billowed around him and weighed him down. Taking deep breaths that filled his nostrils with the tang of salt and seaweed, he struck out for the shimmering, shrinking light now moving deeper into the cliff. He forced himself not to panic. This is just like the bath, only a lot colder and the water is rank he told himself. Not to mention stinging, he thought as some of the water splashed into his eye. With dogged determination, he plunged ahead.

The fissure soon opened into a dark tunnel that Harry could tell would be filled with water at high tide. The slimy walls were barely three feet apart and glimmered like wet tar in the passing light of Dumbledore's wand. A little way in, the passageway curved to the left, and Harry saw that it extended far into the cliff. He continued to swim inexpertly in Dumbledore's wake, his head getting periodically submerged and the tips of his benumbed fingers brushing the rough, wet rock.

Then he saw Dumbledore rising out of the water ahead, his sil ver hair and dark robes gleaming. When Harry reached the spot he found steps that led into a large cave. He clambered up them, water streaming from his soaking clothes, and emerged, shivering uncontrollably, into the still and freezing air. He blinked furiously as he tried to get rid of the sting of the saltwater.

Dumbledore was standing in the middle of the cave, his wand held high as he turned slowly on the spot, examining the walls and ceiling.

'Yes, this is the place,' said Dumbledore. It confirmed the scans he had initially made.

'How can you tell?' Harry spoke in a whisper.

To this Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow. 'Surely you can tell me the answer to that question Harry? In fact, I think you should lead the investigation of the place.'

Nodding, Harry took out his wand and stepped forward, the waterproof charms on his clothes were working overtime trying to drain the water till they were fully dry, while the heating charm in his cloak started to work its magic to bring his body temperature up. All Harry had to do was dry his hands, face and hair.

Lighting his wand, he closed his eyes and extended his senses as he turned on the spot. Suddenly he could feel the magic. It was faint though as if it came from a place beyond.

'I think that this is an antechamber,' Dumbledore nodded as his student said these words, having reached the same conclusion himself.

'Where do you think is the entrance?' Albus asked.

In response, Harry ran his fingers along the wall, walking from the entrance and approaching the back of the cave.

'I think ... it's here?' he said uncertainly after a few minutes pointing at a spot right in front of him.

Albus moved forward peering at the place that Harry had indicated. Drawing his wand, he examined the wall for a minute. Then he finally pointed the wand at the rock. For a moment, an arched outline appeared there, blazing white as though there was a powerful light behind the crack. 'Indeed, can you tell me what is required to get through?' he said as it disappeared quickly.

Harry closed his eyes again. 'No, there isn't anything that feels that way, however, there is something else. A ward ...' he concentrated further, staring at it for two solid minutes. 'It wants payment ... but what kind, I am not certain.'

'Very good, Harry,' Albus said approvingly. 'I am quite impressed that you have managed to come this far. Most others would not be able to tell this much in so little time. However, as much as I would like to continue letting you finally figure out the requirement of the ward, we really must be moving on. So if you will excuse me...' with that he stepped forward and examined the concealed entrance for what seemed to be a long time but was in reality, half a minute.

Finally Albus snorted, 'How crude.' He said, sounding disappointed. 'To enter into the chamber beyond, one must use blood as payment.'

'Blood?' Harry said, with an eyebrow raised as he watched the headmaster plunge his good hand into his robes and withdraw a sliver knife.

'I said it was crude,' Dumbledore said as he exposed the forearm of his injured hand. He sounded disdainful, even disappointed that Voldemort had used such a simple method 'The idea, as I am sure you will have gathered, is that your enemy must weaken him- or herself to enter. Once again, Lord Voldemort fails to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury.'

Slashing his arm, Albus reflected that it really was rather disappointingly simplistic of Tom. Really, he had expected something a bit more fiendish, something that would require at least five minutes worth of examination from him at the least. Instead, it took a sixteen year old who was barely trained in sensing magic to figure out half the puzzle in two minutes and it took Albus half a minute to find out the other half of the riddle. Two and a half minutes totally. Half the time Albus was expecting.

And the requirement, Albus scoffed internally as he healed the deep cut he made on his arm. He himself would not have used something so base and easily replaceable. With magic, it was more than easy to repair any physical injury he had made, and blood could easily be replenished with potions. Personally, if it were up to him, he would have put up an intent based ward. Only somebody who intended to guard the Horcrux or had his permission to enter would be granted access.

Unless the blood was there to detect the identity of the potential thief, should said thief manage to fool the other traps set within... That bore thinking about.

'Ah, that seems to have done the trick, doesn't it?' he said as the blazing silver outline of an arch had appeared in the wall once more, and this time it did not fade away: The blood-spattered rock within it simply vanished, leaving an opening into what seemed to be total darkness.

'After me, I think,' saying that Albus lit his wand again and ducked into the chamber.

An eerie sight met their eyes: They were standing on the edge of a great black lake, so vast that Harry could not make out the dis tant banks, in a cavern so high that the ceiling too was out of sight. A misty greenish light shone far away in what looked like the mid dle of the lake; it was reflected in the completely still water below. The greenish glow and the light from the two wands were the only things that broke the otherwise velvety blackness, though their rays did not penetrate as far as Harry would have expected. The dark ness was somehow denser than normal darkness.

'Let us walk,' said Dumbledore quietly. 'Be very careful not to step into the water. Stay close to me.'

He set off around the edge of the lake, and Harry followed close behind him. Their footsteps made echoing, slapping sounds on the narrow rim of rock that surrounded the water. Only, Harry knew that it was not water that the lake contained. Kreacher had described how the lake seemed to have water that was unnaturally still. Thinking this odd, Harry reckoned that it was a potion that was currently taking the place of water in the lake. While this might have been natural salt water lake once upon a time, Voldemort had evidently long since drained the water body and filled it up with a potion that looked like water. There were quite a few potions that looked and felt like water.

The two of them walked on, but the view did not vary: on one side of them, the rough cavern wall, on the other, the boundless expanse of smooth, glassy blackness, in the very middle of which was that mysterious greenish glow. Kreacher's description of the place did not account for how oppressive the place was. It did not do justice to the unnerving silence either. This nicely distracted Harry from thinking of the shocking revelations he had learnt just a few scant minutes before. For the first time Harry wondered if coming here to learn the full truth was a rash decision.

Harry watched as Dumbledore found and raised the boat that Kreacher had described. Harry looked askance at the construct that was built to take them across the lake and to the island. He was expecting something a little sturdier. This boat did not look capable of ferrying anything across, much less two humans.

'Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but about the amount of magical power that crossed his lake. I rather think an enchantment will have been placed upon this boat so that only one wizard at a time will be able to sail in it.' Dumbledore said when Harry articulated his concerns.

'But then — ?'

'I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register compared to mine.'

'But I actually am an adult.'

Dumbledore chuckled, 'Yes, you are considered an adult, Harry, legally speaking. Magically speaking however, you are still underage. You have not reached magical maturity yet. That will happen at seventeen, and it will settle down by the time you are twenty one.'

Albus smiled wistfully. He remembered his own youth. The time period between fifteen and seventeen especially was spent in a haze of hormones and a blaze of passion. He was still surprised that he managed to pass school much less do so with such high marks.

A clearing of a throat brought him to the present. Looking around, he saw Harry standing behind him with a pointed look.

'Ah, forgive me. I was lost in my memories.' Albus said. 'Now, you first this time, and be careful not to touch the water.'

Dumbledore stood aside and Harry climbed carefully into the boat. Dumbledore stepped in too, coiling the chain onto the floor. They were crammed in together; Harry could not comfortably sit, but crouched, his knees jutting over the edge of the boat, which be gan to move at once. There was no sound other than the silken rus tle of the boat's prow cleaving the water; it moved without their help, as though an invisible rope was pulling it onward towards the light in the centre. Soon they could no longer see the walls of the cavern; they might have been at sea except that there were no waves.

Harry looked down and saw the reflected gold of his wandlight sparkling and glittering on the black potion as they passed. The boat was carving deep ripples upon the glassy surface, grooves in the dark mirror.

Harry had no idea why Dumbledore called the potion in the lake water. The unnatural way that the lake stayed still was enough indication that the liquid inside was anything but water.

As he looked absently at the surface of the lake, he saw it, marble white, floating inches below the surface.

Harry let out an audible gasp. While he knew that the lake was filled with dead bodies underneath, it was still shocking to see one of the aforementioned corpses floating just below the surface.

He had no sooner thought this when his wand came on a fresh patch of the lake. This time, instead of a hand, he saw a dead man lying face-up inches beneath the surface, his open eyes misted as though with cobwebs, his hair and his robes swirling around him like smoke.

'Mother –' he cursed. Taking a deep breath, he looked forward at the greenish glow, trying not to look at the surface of the lake or sick up. Unfortunately, his eyes betrayed him as they kept straying to the surface of the lake, giving him visions of men, women and children all floating there. Their eyes misted over and their skin chalk white as their clothes and hair danced around them.

The whole tableau was like a scene right out of a horror book. Only, Harry was sure that none of the Muggle authors could possibly come up with something so horrifying.

'There is nothing to be feared from a body, Harry, any more than there is anything to be feared from the darkness. Lord Voldemort, who of course secretly fears both, disagrees. But once again he reveals his own lack of wisdom. It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.' Dumbledore said placidly, noting the boy's obvious discomfort.

Harry glanced at Dumbledore incredulously. He did not care what the headmaster said, this was freaking scary! Kreacher had told him that as soon as the surface was disturbed by something that wasn't the boat, the Inferi below him would awaken and attack. While Harry knew the theory of fighting an Inferius, facing reanimated corpses as they came after you was another matter altogether.

He could not pretend now that he was not scared. The great black lake, teeming with the dead … It seemed hours and hours ago that he had met Professor Trelawney, that he had given orders to seal the castle. … He suddenly wished he had said a better good-bye to his friends … and he hadn't seen Daphne at all.

What was he thinking coming to this place? Harry took deep breaths. There was nothing to be scared of, he told himself silently. As long as he did not touch the surface of the lake, he was fine. The Inferi would not awaken till then.

'Nearly there.' Harry's eye twitched at Dumbledore's cheerful voice. The way the man was acting, it was as if the two of them were on a picnic!

Within minutes, the boat had come to a halt, bumping gently into something that Harry could not see at first, but when he raised his illuminated wand he saw that they had reached a small island of smooth rock in the centre of the lake.

'Careful not to touch the water,' said Dumbledore again as Harry climbed out of the boat.

The island was no larger than Dumbledore's office, an expanse of flat dark stone on which stood nothing but the source of that greenish light, which looked much brighter when viewed close to. Harry squinted at it; at first, he thought it was a lamp of some kind, but then he saw that the light was coming from a stone basin rather like the Pensieve, which was set on top of a pedestal.

Dumbledore approached the basin and Harry followed. Side by side, they looked down into it. The basin was full of an emerald liq uid emitting that phosphorescent glow.

'What is this?' Harry asked nervously.

Albus examined the potion sitting in front of him, stumped. While he had reasonably high marks in his O.W.L.s, and N.E.W.T.s and had also done quite a bit of work on Alchemy, he did not have every potion memorised. After all, he wasn't a Potions master. Identifying a potion like that by sight would be better left to someone like Severus. Albus was also reasonably sure that the "water" in the lake was a potion, but couldn't really say for sure either.

'I have no idea,' he finally admitted, 'something more worrisome than blood and dead bodies, however.' He pushed back the sleeve of his robe over his black ened hand, and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers towards the surface of the potion.

'Sir, no, don't touch — !'

'I cannot touch it,' said Albus, smiling faintly at the boy's concern. 'See? I can not approach any nearer than this. You try.'

As Albus watched Harry encounter the ward that prevented the basin from being touched by hand, he mentally gave Tom marks for putting up such a barrier. Really, that initial ward was so pedestrian, it was almost insulting! He half expected that Voldemort had forgotten to bar a person from simply plunging his hand into the basin and removing the object.

Sniffing, Albus took out his wand and waved it around in a complicated pattern. It was an advanced revealing charm, as obscure as the potion Tom used. Well little Tommy, two can play at this game! He said to himself gleefully. He hadn't felt this alive for quite some time now! Which was quite ironic as he was about to die in a few short hours.

Peering into the potion, Albus mentally gave Tom more marks. At least the boy had the common sense to place wards against the potion preventing it from being parted, vanished, conjured, transfigured or tampered with magically in any way. And the semi-permeable ward that had been placed to let in nothing but crystal was tied into the potion itself.

Sharing his findings with Harry, he finished by saying, 'I can only conclude that this potion must be drunk.' At that moment, he caught the goblet that he had absently conjured.

'What? But won't it kill you?' Harry finally said. While he wanted the man to drink the potion, he felt that it would be in his best interest to pretend concern.

'No, knowing Voldemort, I doubt he would want to immediately kill any person who enters this cavern. He would want to keep them alive long enough to find out how they managed to penetrate so far through his defences and, most importantly of all, why they were so intent upon emptying the basin. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes.'

'Undoubtedly,' he said, finally, 'this potion must act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. It might paralyze me, cause me to forget what I am here for, create so much pain I am distracted, or render me incapable in some other way. This being the case, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you have to tip the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?'

Harry hesitated for a moment as he looked into the blue eyes of the headmaster which were green in the reflected light. Now was his last chance to come clean. Eventually, however, hardening his resolve, he nodded in acquiescence.

Seeing the boy nod, Albus nodded in response. He did not relish having to give the boy this kind of a task. But it had to be done.

Without wasting any time, he plunged the goblet into the basin filling it with the potion. 'Your good health, Harry.' Saying this, he drained the contents, he was eager to see what this potion was all about.

Harry watched as Dumbledore drank the first three goblets full of the potion, plunging the goblet into the basin blindly only to drain it in one gulp.

Suddenly, halfway through the fourth goblet, Dumbledore collapsed over the basin. His eyes closed and face twitching as if he was in the throes of a terrible dream.

Harry noticed his grip on the goblet slackening, so he rushed forward to steady it.

From then on, it was up to Harry to feed the potion to Dumbledore. He tried to ignore the frightened voice and pleas of mercy from the headmaster as he fed him goblet after goblet of the potion. But it was getting harder and harder.

'It will be all right professor.' Harry said as he tipped in the goblet for the fourth time into Dumbledore's mouth. He supported Dumbledore's shoulders and again, Dumbledore drained the glass; then Harry was on his feet once more, refilling the goblet as Dumbledore began to scream in more anguish than ever, 'I want to die!' shouted the headmaster in a voice that terrified Harry as he had never heard the headmaster sound so afraid in his life. 'I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, I want to die!'

Hands shaking, Harry supported Dumbledore again as he drained another goblet full of the potion into the old man's mouth. How was it easier to torture Mundungus? He wondered. It wasn't so hard, and he did not feel sick doing it that time.

Harry knew what this potion would do. When speaking to Kreacher, Harry had questioned the elf extensively about the colour of the potion and what the symptoms of drinking it were. Armed with that knowledge, Harry had dug through the books in the Black family library. He theorised that the potion was of a dark nature and where better to look for such a potion than from one of the premier Dark families in Britain?

It took some searching, but Harry found it in an obscure tome written in old English with no title on the cover.

What he was feeding Dumbledore was the Elixir of Nightmares, an extremely complicated and obscure potion that required some really rare ingredients. Drinking this potion induced waking nightmares. This had the effect of breaking the concentration of an Occlumens, making it easy for a Legilimens to root through the person's mind.

The potion was such that it made the drinker want to drink more, like a drug addict. This was more than evident when Harry saw how the headmaster would obediently drain every last drop before screaming in agony.

After drinking it thirteen times, the nightmares would stop, replaced instead by a burning thirst that could not be sated by water. And that was where Voldemort's diabolical genius could be seen. Using the fact that it looked a lot like water to his advantage, Voldemort had cleverly filled the entire lake up with The Draught of Living Death. Even a potions master would be hard pressed to identify the potion due to the low light and the macabre sight of the dead bodies floating below the surface.

Harry was certain that the lake contained this potion as it was the only known antidote for The Elixir. The effects of The Draught would be somewhat negated in this case, however, it would leave the drinker drowsy and disoriented for a while. So a person could theoretically escape from the cavern and, if they were strong enough, seek help. And that was where Inferi came in. As soon as the lake surface was disturbed, the animated corpses would then proceed to drag the victim underneath the surface. Unable to do much, the victim would then be forced to breathe in more of The Draught making them fall into a deep slumber, not suffocating thanks to The Draught. They would basically be in the same state as unborn babies.

Voldemort would then come by to interrogate the prisoner. Being in Draught induced sleep would have not made it possible for the victim to even think of mounting a mental defence, so when they woke up, using Legilimency on them would be practically a walk in the park.

Somewhere in the lake was Regulus Black's body. Harry doubted that he had survived this long. The potion did not do anything to preserve the body. Regulus had most likely died in his sleep, dying of starvation and completely unaware of the world around him.

After he drank the thirteenth time, Dumbledore rolled over onto his face with a great rattling gasp.

Finally with the distasteful job done, Harry rolled the headmaster onto his back. Now was the time for him to get his answers. He reached out to open the headmaster's eyelids so he could perform Legilimency.

Suddenly Dumbledore's eyelids flickered, stopping Harry in his tracks.

Harry could not believe it. The man must really be resilient to be able to throw off the effects of such a potion so quickly. Then again, he was quite well-versed in the mind arts.

'Water,' Dumbledore croaked.

'Alright,' said Harry. He picked up the crystal goblet, doing his best to look natural. He did not know how aware Dumbledore was or how fast his reaction would be.

Pointing his wand at the goblet, Harry gave of the illusion that he was about to cast Aguamenti on it. At the last minute, when he saw the headmaster look up at the ceiling, Harry quickly pointed the wand at the headmaster.

'Expelliarmus!'

Immediately Dumbledore's wand leapt out of his robe pocket and flew into Harry's hand. Not noticing the warmth that emanated from the wand, Harry nervously stepped forward to the downed headmaster.

'I'm sorry, professor,' Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'But you have kept too many secrets from me.' Hardening his resolve, he pointed his wand at the aged wizard, looking into the unseeing eyes that still could not comprehend the betrayal.

'Legilimens'

Harry was instantly assaulted with sights and sounds as he dived into the headmaster's mind.

Randomly, a thought from the headmaster came in front of him.

Deathly Hallows? Harry asked himself as he examined the thought, what are they?

As if in response to his question, Harry was assaulted with images of the Gaunt ring, a wand he recognised as the one he was now holding and Harry's own Cloak. Surrounding all this was the title of the book he had received from Ollivander as a gift.

Harry puzzled over this, but then mentally shook his head, he was getting distracted.

He concentrated on his name.

At once, more memories came to the forefront of his mind, flashing by quickly. He saw a green eyed baby being bounced on his mother's lap as the red headed woman and his black haired father spoke to the old man opposite them.

Then he saw the same baby, asleep this time as the old man placed him on the doorstep of a house.

This wasn't working. Harry pulled away from these memories and concentrated on things about him that the headmaster had not told him.

It was there that he hit gold.

A woman with big glasses and a bevy of beads and shawls was speaking in a rasping voice to the visibly younger version of the old man...

The old man was sealing a ring in a Snitch ... and Harry knew that it would be activated when he pressed his lips to it and said "I am going to die"

How was that important Harry wondered.

As if in response, the next thought leapt out at him.

'...Part of Lord Voldemort lives inside Harry, and it is that which gives him the power of speech with snakes, and a connexion with Lord Voldemort's mind that he has never understood. And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die...'

So he knew all along Harry thought disbelievingly. I wonder what other secrets he holds regarding me.

A bushy haired girl and a tall lanky red headed boy were speaking to the headmaster in his office...

Hang on thought Harry. He concentrated on the last memory.

Instantly the memory came back, this time it was much clearer and sharper.

The fire burned an emerald green and two individuals stepped out of it, one after another, causing the owner of the office to look up from his paperwork.

'Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley,' the old man said as the two of them had dusted themselves off. 'Please have a seat.'

Once the two teenagers were seated, the headmaster brought his fingers together and regarded the two.

'So, I take it that you have agreed?'

'Yes Professor,' said the girl.

'Good, good,' the headmaster said. 'Then as agreed, I shall have the sum transferred. You will get your new vault keys from Gringotts.'

'Yes, Professor,' the girl repeated as the boy burst out excitedly with. 'We get our own vaults?'

'That's just one vault, Mr Weasley.' Dumbledore said kindly. It shall be shared between the two of you. Now I trust that you know to keep the existence of this vault a secret?'

Seeing them nod, he continued. 'Good, I imagine that people won't be pleased. Harry for one might not be happy to know that I am paying his two best friends – '

The memory faded away at this point.

He was Paying them? Were the thoughts that went through Harry's head.

Almost dreading it, he thought. Who else

At once, new memories came to light. Harry watched with stunned disbelief as Dumbledore spoke to Mr and Mrs Weasley about money. He could see himself as a twelve year old playing with the twins up in the sky through the kitchen window.

They were being paid to look after me?

The disbelief turned into anger.

They were all being paid to be my friends! All of that was a Lie? These were the thoughts running through Harry's mind as he played both memories again and again.

While Harry was performing Legilimency on the headmaster, Dumbledore had finally managed to regain his mental faculties. The last two memories he had seen before managing to eject Harry from his mind was the meeting between him and the two Weasley parents and the one before that between him and Harry's two best friends. At first he tried to show Harry the memory of Ron and Hermione returning the money (he had not told them, but he had willed that money to them later on). But then he realised with a sinking feeling that he had left that memory behind in the Pensieve. While he still remembered that event, he could not show it since it had been magically removed, and not copied. So Albus had no choice but to simply eject the boy and explain things.

A part of him was angry at this blatant invasion of privacy, but a greater part of him recognised that he needed to first explain the circumstances behind both the memories before going off on the boy for his disregard of people's feelings.

'Harry,' he said weakly, trying to get the attention of the boy who was staring at the lake. He had to work quickly to convince the boy.

'Harry, you have to understand –'

'No,' the boy said, his voice tinged with a lot of anger and a hint of betrayal. Breathing hard, he finally looked at Dumbledore, his eyes were glowing an eerie green in the dark.

'I understand plenty, Dumbledore!' he said with a sneer and a lot of hatred at the name.

'You've been playing with my life ever since that night on Halloween, haven't you? HAVEN'T YOU?' he shouted.

'Everything was a lie,' he whispered a tear running down a cheek. 'Ron and Hermione were never my friends were they? I know that you were paying the Weasleys money before my second year. So when did you start? Did you tell Molly Weasley to guide me to the platform? When did you start paying Ron and Hermione? Was it from first year also?' he was panting hard.

'First I find out that you kept me ignorant of the prophecy,' Harry said quickly, before the headmaster could open his mouth. 'I didn't mind that, I may have done the same in your shoes. Then I find out that you knew all along about my home life. I don't know why, but for some reason, I forgave you. I also did not mind when I found out that you did not fulfil your obligations as my magical guardian. It took me some time, but in the end, I had no problems in you keeping me ignorant of my heritage. But then,' his expression started turning ugly. 'Then I find out that you not only knew of the identity of the bastard that overheard that prophecy and had my parents targeted, but you had actively employed that man to "teach" me. And if that wasn't enough, you let him torment me from the beginning!' he fairly screamed out the last word.

Albus was about to interrupt when Harry spoke of Snape's past. He was shocked. How had the boy found out?

'H-how did you – '

'Trelawney told me!' Harry said coldly. 'Just a few hours back in fact.'

'Harry, Professor – '

'I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU!' Harry screamed at the top of his lungs.

'You put that bastard in school! Day in and day out, year after year, I had to hear the utter filth coming from that foul man's mouth. I was forced to sit there, powerless and listen as he disparaged my father, the same father who I never knew as he had died before I could remember him. The same father whose death he is RESPONSIBLE FOR!'

'AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT YOU HAD THOSE TWO PRETEND TO BE MY FRIENDS!' in response to his anger, Harry's magic lashed out and destroyed the basin and the pedestal it was standing on.

'I bet you all had a nice big laugh looking at the poor downtrodden abused orphan as you played him like a fucking fiddle, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?' By this time Harry was pacing back and forth, the wands he was clenching were spitting out angry sparks. Albus was surprised that the Inferi had not risen up yet.

'Harry, calm down – '

'SHUT. UP!' screamed Harry as he slashed the wand in his right hand.

In his anger, his magic responded to his command even though he did not utter any incantation and Dumbledore found his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Harry, meanwhile, had managed to rein in his temper. He started laughing coldly.

'Well, guess what, old man. Your time has come.' And with a terrible and foreboding smile on his face, Harry extended both wands towards the old man, mentally yelling Sajjeta and pouring all his emotion into the spell.

Dumbledore barely had time to scream before he went limp. The potion had taken quite a toll on him and so he was not able to withstand the assault that came from the magical lightning that sprung forth from both the wands. Add in his previous injury from the ring, and it was a miracle that he had time to scream before being knocked unconscious.

Harry looked at the unconscious form of his headmaster, the man whom he had looked up to for so long. He felt his eyes prickle. The betrayal was like a solid blow to him. It was so oppressive that the atmosphere in the cavern paled in comparison. Harry sank to his knees as the tidal wave of emotion hit him. He started breathing hard, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break out. He clenched his hands so tight that he began to feel the creak of wood from the two wands he was holding. His jaw was closed so tight that his teeth hurt.

He couldn't believe that he was actually planning on laying all his cards on the table just a few hours before. The old man also knew about Harry's scar. Harry had not missed that memory where he was instructing Snape, Snape!, of all people to tell him that he had to die.

Finally he brutally slammed his Occlumency shields down. Now was not the time to wallow. Looking up, Harry wiped the angry tears from his eyes. He levitated the headmaster's unconscious body with a flick of his wand. The rise and fall of the old man's chest told him that Dumbledore was still alive. Not for much longer, was the savage thought in his head. Getting into the boat, he grimly made his way to the other side of the shore, the headmaster bobbing along behind him.

As soon as he got to the sealed entrance, Harry lowered the headmaster's body roughly and pointing both wands at the entrance yelled 'Bombarda!'

The section of rock was vaporised in a flash of light and sound. There wasn't anything remaining of the rock to signify that it had been blown open.

Lifting the body again with his left hand and uncaring of the spots in his eyes or the ringing in his ears, Harry walked out into the antechamber which was now full of freezing water.

He looked back at the mess he had created. The broken pedestal no longer emitted the green light. The cavern was now illuminated by the meagre moonlight now coming into the cavern thanks to the blasting spell. Dust was raining down from the ceiling as well.

The surface of the lake suddenly started to churn as the Inferi underneath were obviously disturbed by the falling dust.

Harry did not even give them a chance to do much. As soon as he saw the first corpse emerge, he pointed both wands at the lake, uncaring of the potential damage he was about to cause.

The shambling corpses had barely a minute of warning before Harry's wands spewed out fire with a loud roar.

Not staying to watch the Fiendfyre Curse do its job, Harry Disapparated away with Dumbledore's unconscious form.

Right, first off, a thank you to Miss Lalla for proofreading.

Now, I am pretty sure that there are quite a few readers out there who are royally pissed off with what I have done and will be doing to Dumbledore.

When I posted the last two chapters, I got quite a few sympathetic reviews and even one rather heartfelt PM telling me not to have Harry hate Dumbledore.

It almost made me reconsider ...

Unfortunately, there are times in life when we are given information that we feel is right, but because we do not have the whole picture, we jump to the wrong conclusion. I do feel sorry that things ended in such a way for Dumbledore. But that is life! It isn't fair, and can be quite a bitch.

On a lighter note: Either major news publications are all taking the mickey and playing the same prank, or America actually passed legislature in November that effectively classified the pizza as a vegetable. In both cases I have to ask; 'why would they do that?'

30. Et Tu Harry? Then Fall Dumbledore

Now betaed. With a few minor edits.

In a darkened and deserted alleyway just behind the Hog's Head, there was a slight commotion as one of the pub's unsavoury patrons (well, more unsavoury than normal) was magically ejected from within rather forcefully by the barman and owner.

'And stay out!' said Aberforth Dumbledore as he flicked his wand one last time, sending another banishing charm that sent the intoxicated man hurtling another few feet. Sheathing his wand, Aberforth looked on dispassionately as the man slowly picked himself up and (muttering slurred imprecations that the barman could clearly hear) stumbled off into the night.

Turning around, the younger Dumbledore brother wearily went back into the inn. He had some cleaning up to do before he retired for the night. While it was relatively early as far as weekend nights were concerned, he really wanted to close shop. Thankfully, with the way things were, he did not have that many people to eject.

He really was getting too old for this.

A few minutes later, the bar was empty as the customers within had either left, gone up to their rooms, or had been thrown out. Tired, Aberforth was about to retire for the night, when he saw something outside the window that made him pause.

Out on the High Street, right in front of his inn were two figures. Thinking them to be people looking for a late night drink, Aberforth headed towards the door with the intention of telling them to find somewhere else to go. Rosmerta would be more than willing to accommodate them ... Unless she too had decided to close her bar for the night.

He stopped just inside the door when he recognised the familiar silver beard of his brother. Frowning, he waved his wand over his dirty enchanted glasses. As the glasses zoomed in on the two, he noticed that both individuals were drenched.

Aberforth snorted. 'Looks like Mr Brilliant here has had a bit of a fall in the drink,' he said to himself, using the name he used to refer to his brother. Looking at the other figure standing over his brother's fallen form, he recognised Harry Potter.

Clearly his brother had taken the boy out on some harebrained excursion. And things had gone direly. The fact that both the boy and his unconscious brother were dripping wet was enough of a clue to indicate that, forget the tension he could clearly see on the boy's shoulders as he bent over the old man. The boy was waving his wand, no doubt trying to diagnose the problem. Aberforth was willing to bet his month's income that his idiot brother had taught the boy the spell himself before going wherever it was he had gone tonight. For all his brains, Albus never did have much common sense.

'Bah,' Aberforth said to himself as he turned away from his observations and the grimy front window of the inn. He need not go outside to help the two. Mr Brilliant really didn't need much of his help. Not when he had his new toy standing over him. Aberforth could also see Rosmerta coming from her pub. Either way, his brother would be seen to.

Possibly the Potter kid would goof up in whatever spell he was casting over his brother. It would serve that self-righteous prick right if he ended up with a nice long stay in the hospital as the Healers worked to correct the mistake. Aberforth doubted it (he had heard enough about the boy's escapades to know that he was either very lucky or pretty capable) but he could always hope.

Harry registered the difference in the atmosphere before he even looked up. The smell of salt and the sea breeze had gone. He was shivering and dripping in the middle of the dark High Street in Hogsmeade as the drying and warming charms did their work. Looking round, he let go of the grip that he had on the headmaster, uncaring of the way Dumbledore's unconscious form slumped onto the ground. From the looks of things he had appeared in front of the Hog's Head inn.

Bending over the cataleptic form of the headmaster, he checked once more that the man was unconscious. Just to be sure, he sent a stunner. It was a testament to the amount of time he had spent training that only a ripple of air marked the passing of the spell.

He suddenly heard the sounds of someone approaching. Turning in that direction, he descried Madam Rosmerta scurrying down the dark street toward them.

'I saw you Apparate as I was pulling my bedroom curtains! Thank goodness, thank goodness, I couldn't think what to — but what's wrong with Albus?'

She came to a halt, panting, and stared down, wide-eyed, at Dumbledore.

'He's hurt,' said Harry finally, tearing his eyes away from the high-heeled fluffy slippers, and silk dressing gown embroidered with dragons that covered the barwoman's figure (really, the things people wear). 'Madam Rosmerta, can he come into the Three Broomsticks while I go up to the school and get help for him?'

'You can't go up there alone! Don't you realize — haven't you seen —?'

'Seen what?' Harry said with a bit of asperity. His question was soon answered when he looked up to where she was pointing.

'The — the Dark Mark...' said Rosmerta.

Huh, thought Harry, standing up. Looks like Draco has started his little party. He checked his watch. The white hands that stood out starkly against the black face of the Omega Seamaster watch told him that around one and a half hours had passed from the time they had left for the cave.

Harry hoped that Draco did not have to wait too long. Otherwise he risked discovery.

'When did the mark appear?' he asked finally.

'Must have been minutes ago, it wasn't there when I put the cat out, but when I got upstairs —'

Harry considered the situation presented to him. While he knew that the woman was under Malfoy's thrall, he was reasonably certain that Rosmerta retained her mental faculties, and would remember Harry appearing with Dumbledore. From what he had read about the Imperius, the curse had to be weaved into the victim's subconscious to keep them under the curse for extended periods of time. They would not realise that they were under its effects and would carry out the caster's instructions without even knowing what they were doing until the curse was lifted. The disadvantage here was that once the curse was lifted, the victim still retained memories of what they had done while under the spell. So he could not act out of character, since Rosmerta had no idea about his involvement.

'Right, Madam Rosmerta, why don't you go back to the Three Broomsticks and send a message to the Ministry? Meanwhile, I will get Professor Dumbledore some medical attention.' Harry said authoritatively.

As Rosmerta tottered back to her pub, Harry had a random thought. He checked his watch once again. Frowning, he looked back at the retreating woman's dress. Wasn't it a bit early in the night to be closing?

Shaking his head, he concentrated on the present. He used Occlumency to ignore the feeling of anger and betrayal that threatened to break out at any moment and reduce him to a blubbering mess. There would be time for that later. Right now, he had a job to do.

Looking around once more to see that he was alone, he pointed his wand at the unconscious and Stupefied form of his professor and whispered, for the first time in his life, 'Imperio.'

Draco ducked as a jet of red light streaked past. As soon as Rosmerta had sent a message telling him that Dumbledore had left Hogwarts, he had messaged Borgin telling him to get a contingent of Death Eaters ready.

It had taken a full forty five minutes to ready a party of Death Eaters. It would have taken less time if it wasn't for his insane aunt wanting to come. Thankfully, his mother had managed to convince the loon to stay behind.

He shuddered at the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange coming to the school. Training under her was bad enough, accompanying her and performing his first kill in front of her would be unbearable.

Of course, there was the danger of her deciding that torturing innocent students might be a better idea than getting Dumbledore. Draco really had no idea what went on in the mad witch's head.

Soon enough, the team assembled at Borgin's place. From there, they stepped into the cabinet one by one, knocking to let Draco know to open the at the other end.

The first person out of the cabinet was the massive Thorfinn Rowle. After that came the Carrow siblings. They were followed by Yaxley and Gibbon.

But it was the last individual that had caused a shiver of fear to run down Draco's spine.

He was a big, rangy man with matted grey hair and whiskers. His black Death Eater's robes looked uncomfortably tight. Perhaps it was the rasping bark of a voice with which the man spoke, a voice that was more animalistic than human, or perhaps it was the smell; a powerful mixture of dirt, sweat, and, unmistakably, of stale blood coming from him, but the man radiated danger and an air of menace that the big and burly (and more importantly clean) Rowle could only hope to match.

'Fenrir Greyback?' Draco said unable to hide the fear from his voice. 'Wh-what are you doing here?'

The man grinned, showing pointed teeth. 'Bellatrix sent me in her place, since she could not come.' He flexed his large filthy hands. Draco could not help but notice the long yellow nails at the end of each of the phalanges.

'Well, let's get to it,' said Amycus Carrow, with an odd lopsided leer. 'We can sit for a chat later.'

Assuming that Dumbledore had gone out for a drink in Hogsmeade, Amycus, the group leader, then laid out his plan. They would set off the Dark Mark over the highest point of Hogwarts, the Astronomy Tower, compelling Dumbledore to hasten to the school. Meanwhile the strike team would then wait under disillusionment charms. As soon as the headmaster arrived, they would then engage the headmaster and any lackeys he brought with him in combat. Not that they expected there to be anybody else other than the headmaster. The fastest way to reach the tower from Hogsmeade would be to fly. And while there were enchantments against that, those enchantments were cast by Dumbledore himself.

So they fully expected Dumbledore to be the first to arrive at the tower. However, by himself, the headmaster was still capable of holding off all six of them. And that was where Draco came in. In the ensuing confusion, Draco would, under the Disillusionment Charm, kill the headmaster. Hopefully the mage would be too busy to notice the curse and the extra person until it was too late.

As soon as that happened, they would make their way out of the castle. Their planned path of egress would be back through the Vanishing Cabinets. From there they would Disapparate to Malfoy Manor, while Draco would go back to the Slytherin common room and go back to sleep. There were plans of having him as a spy, but that was neither here nor there.

It did not take long for their plan hit its first snag.

Borgin watched the last Death Eater vanish through the cabinet. Opening the door, he checked to make sure that nobody was there. Turning around, he cast a few revealing and detection charms over the shop. Satisfied that he was now alone, he turned to the cabinet and levitated it till it touched the ceiling. As soon as it reached its maximum height, he cancelled the spell. The cabinet came crashing down, splintering upon impact.

'Oh dear,' said Borgin with mock sympathy. 'Looks like the cabinet couldn't transport so many people in one go. I guess Malfoy wasn't so proficient. Either that or it was too old. Anyway, I better tell them about this.' Nonchalantly, he took his coin out. That should show the little bastard he thought savagely. Blackmail me, will he?

'Damn it,' said Draco as he studied the message on the coin.

'What is it?' growled Rowle.

'The cabinet at Borgin's end has fallen apart.' Draco replied. He cursed, he was sure that he had done the repairs correctly!

'Fuck!' said Alecto. She rounded on Draco. 'I thought you had done the repairs properly!' she accused.

'Enough!' said Yaxley. 'We all have managed to come through, so it cannot possibly be Draco's fault. For all we know, it could have been because the cabinet at Borgin's shop was too old. It hasn't been used for all this time, after all.'

'Well, there is nothing for it,' Rowle said with another growl. Draco reflected that growling was the only way the man said anything. 'We will have to force our way through the front gates.'

Having made their plans, the Death Eaters, with Rowle in the lead exited the Room of Requirement. They hoped that the late hour would ensure that nobody noticed their presence until it was too late.

And that was when they met their second problem.

As soon as they turned a corner, they practically ran headfirst into two men who were clearly patrolling the corridors. One of whom was wearing Auror robes.

The Death Eaters and the Order members stared at each other blankly for a moment, surprised by each other's presence.

The standoff was broken when the Auror and the red haired man (Draco assumed he was a Weasley) raised their wands, curses on their lips.

'Stupe –'

Draco acted at that moment. From the middle of the group and hidden by Rowle's and Greyback's large forms, he quickly flung the Darkness powder, bathing the corridor in instant obscurity.

'Ava – what happened?' Yaxley said in the sudden darkness.

'Instant Darkness Powder,' Draco said. 'Now they won't be able to see us. We can use this to get to the Tower.' He started digging in his pockets.

'Great work Draco!'Alecto's sneering voice could be heard to the left over frantic shouts of 'Lumos!' and other fire and lighting spells coming from both Death Eaters and their nemeses. 'Small problem, we can't see either!'

'I have it under control,' Draco took out his Hand of Glory and inserted a candle in the palm. The candle sunk into the Hand easily, immediately lighting and giving Draco a small pool of yellow light in the darkness. Spotting the complaining Carrow sister next to him, he grabbed her elbow.

'Who was – oh!' Alecto said in wonder as the pool of light extended to her. Understanding, she grabbed her brother's shoulder, who in turn grabbed another Death Eater's shoulder.

Touching each other, the Death Eaters quickly made it out of the corridor. While The Hand of Glory only gave light to its user (who bound it to himself using a series of charms) and anybody he willingly touched, either its range was rather limited or the powder was too powerful. Regardless, the Death Eaters could not see their opponents. Hearing them was also out of the question as the two Order members had gone silent by then, no doubt trying to locate the Death Eaters by sound. They had no choice but to quietly rush to the Astronomy Tower and hope that the enemy was not alerted till the Dark Mark was set off.

They reached the tower without any incident. At the entrance, Amycus sent a pain curse at Draco that could be considered mild for the simple and only reason that it wasn't the Cruciatus. 'Idiot boy! We would have been able to subdue them with ease. There were only two of them! Now they have the opportunity to alert their fellows.'

Draco only whimpered in reply. It felt like a fiery whip had hit him on his back.

Sneering at the boy's obvious show of weakness, Yaxley raised his wand to send off another pain curse similar to Amycus' to show his displeasure. Luckily for Draco, he was interrupted by rapid footsteps coming from the end of the unlit corridor.

The Death Eaters tensed. 'Gibbon, go up to the tower and set off the Dark Mark,' Amycus ordered quickly. 'Yaxley, you set up a ward on the entrance, you know the one we are talking about. Nobody with a Dark Mark should be able to get in. Alecto put the Disillusionment Charm on Draco. And you boy, stay out of the way and don't do anything stupid!'

After she hit Draco over the head with her wand with unnecessary force, Amycus, Rowle and Fenrir got into defensive positions. Not a moment later, they were engaged in a furious battle with the first two members of the Order and McGonagall. Due to the lateness of the hour, the torches in the corridor had been turned off. The darkness both hindered and helped the combatants as jets of light were emitted from both ends of the corridor. Neither the Order nor the Death Eaters had the advantage here.

In the middle of this kerfuffle, Draco stayed invisible and out of the way. Done with the barrier, Yaxley had joined them so they were now outnumbering the Order. However, that advantage was soon negated when Lupin came into the fray.

For a few moments both the Death Eaters and Order members were at either ends of the corridor, firing spells at each other. Soon enough that stalemate was broken when Weasley decided to venture forth. Thanks to his superior vision, Greyback was the first to spot him. Foregoing the use of his wand, the werewolf leaped off into the gloom. Soon enough, they heard screams.

As soon as Fenrir ran off, the Death Eaters surged forward, using the distraction the werewolf provided to gain some much needed ground and confront the Order, intensifying the battle.

Yaxley sent of a wide range of dark spells, engaging the man in the Auror robes and Lupin at the same time. The Carrow siblings had McGonagall who proved to be more than capable of holding both of them off as she furiously transfigured and conjured.

Rowle and Greyback were the only ones who had become frenzied. The former started throwing curses indiscriminately, uncaring of who he hit, as he mixed lethal spells with jinxes and hexes. Not that Draco really expected anything else. He had enough training sessions with the man to know his style.

Fenrir on the other hand, was concentrating on Weasley. He was busy mauling the ginger who was valiantly trying to get his wand to bear.

Unable to stomach the sight, Draco turned away. He noticed Gibbon clattering down the stairs. However, before the Death Eater could do anything, he was hit in the face by one of Rowle's stray Killing Curses.

Draco froze as he saw the man crumple into a lifeless heap. The sounds of battle seemed to fade away as he stared at Gibbon's lifeless form bouncing off the last few steps and coming to a rest at his feet. The blond froze. Unable to comprehend that he had just seen a man die.

The sudden vibration of the mirror of his breast pocket brought him out of his stupor.

'Yeah?' he said, holding the mirror with badly shaking hands.

'Get your carcass up to the Astronomy Tower!' Harry said tersely before cutting off the connexion.

Ducking under another of Rowle's stray curses, Draco sprinted for the entrance of the Astronomy tower. In the heat of the battle, the Disillusionment charm had worn off, making him fully visible to Harry when he burst out onto the deserted ramparts.

Draco looked around wildly before he heard a voice. 'You're alone, that's good.'

Harry's head appeared out of midair right in front of Draco.

'Where's Dumbledore?'

An unreadable look passed Harry's face at the question. Silently, he cancelled the Disillusionment charm, causing the headmaster to appear, leaning on the wall. There was a curious blank expression on the headmaster's face that took Draco a moment to recognise.

'You cast the Imperius on him? Successfully?' Draco said, clearly impressed.

'Yes.' Harry's disembodied head said with a rather self-satisfied look on his face.

As soon as he had first cast the curse, Harry could feel his magic move through his body into his wand and out into the curse. However, the headmaster's mental defences, while severely weakened were still strong enough to fend off the attack.

Growling, Harry glared at the old man. Suddenly he had an idea. He could repeat what he had done to a Muggle salesman months ago. Naturally it would be different. This wasn't some simple Muggle, but one of the most powerful wizards. Concentrating, he cast a Confundus Curse, overpowering the spell a bit. Then, with Dumbledore's mind distracted by the curse, Harry plunged mind-first into the ailing warlock's head. Boring a hole into the weakened shields was easy enough. Once he had reached the mind within, Harry withdrew, still keeping a tenuous connexion between him and the headmaster. Readying his wand, Harry cast another Imperius.

This method did the trick. Harry felt the connexion solidify and remain as he fully withdrew.

As soon as he revived him, Harry smirked when he saw the blank look on the headmaster's face. He could still feel the man fighting, however. But Harry held the cards for now.

From there it was a simple matter of flying to the castle, while levitating the headmaster along. Thanks to Slytherin's ring, Harry was able to pass through the enchantments placed around the castle that prevented an approach by flight. While those enchantments were put in by Dumbledore as his prerogative as headmaster, they were tied into Hogwarts' wards, which recognised Harry as the master.

'How did you get here?' Draco asked as he looked around the ramparts. 'I don't see any broom.'

'Who said I used a broom to fly here?' Harry asked challengingly.

They were interrupted by a low groan.

Harry's face whitened when he saw the headmaster coming round. He was sure that the Imperius would last a bit longer! It seemed that Dumbledore's subconscious or something had used Harry's distraction to throw off the curse.

'Good evening Draco,' Dumbledore finally said as he focussed on Draco's form, taking in the outstretched arm and the wand pointed at him with no apparent concern.

Harry sucked in a breath. It looked like the headmaster had not noticed his head hanging in midair! The Confundus Charm was evidently still working. He thought of drawing the cloak over his head, but reconsidered. It would not matter if Dumbledore saw him standing next to Draco Malfoy. Dead men tell no tales, after all.

Not wanting to watch Draco kill Dumbledore, Harry turned his head away, observing the Hogwarts grounds. It was a beautiful and peaceful night, if one ignored the shouting and sounds of fighting that were coming from below. He waited to hear those two words that would take him one step towards freedom. It was quite ironic that the same two words that put him under the old man's thumb would now free him.

But those two words never came.

Turning around Harry saw Draco frozen, staring at the headmaster who was calmly looking back at him.

'So what may I ask are you doing here all alone, Draco?' Dumbledore finally said conversationally.

Harry half expected Draco to kill the old man now. However, it was not to be. 'No,' Draco said. 'I've got backup. There are Death Eaters here in your school tonight.'

'Well, well,' said Dumbledore, as though Malfoy was showing him an ambitious homework project. 'Very good indeed. You found a way to let them in, did you?'

'Yeah,' Draco was now panting. 'Right under your nose and you never realized!'

'Ingenious,' said Dumbledore. 'Yet … forgive me … where are they now? You seem unsupported.'

'They met some of your guards. They're having a fight down be low. They won't be long. … I came on ahead. I — I've got a job to do.'

'Well, then, you must get on and do it, my dear boy,' said Dumbledore softly.

Harry stood there with his mouth hanging open. Were these two seriously having this conversation? What was this, some bad Muggle movie?

Dumbledore, however, was not done. Despite the dire situation the old man found himself in, he actually smiled at Draco. Harry wondered if the Confundus Charm had completely addled the old man.

'Draco, Draco, you are not a killer.'

As Harry heard Draco's rather childish sounding answer, he understood what Dumbledore was trying to achieve. Despite being disarmed, poisoned, and disoriented, the headmaster still had an ace up his sleeve. And that was his ability to talk. Harry could only watch with a growing sense of disbelief as the headmaster skilfully got Draco to talk about the plans he had made over the year. What was even more disbelieving was how easy it was for the mage to distract Draco.

Harry could dimly see where this was going. Soon enough, Dumbledore would soon ask Draco to drop his wand and surrender, possibly promising some protection in return. And by the time Dumbledore was done, Draco would do it with a smile on his face. Harry could empathise. After all, Dumbledore had been working on him for years!

'There is little time, one way or another,' said Dumbledore. 'So let us discuss your options, Draco.'

'No!' Harry interrupted them, coming out of his stupor. He could see Dumbledore winding down. Getting ready for the kill. 'Don't listen to him Draco! He is just full of shit.'

'Harry?' Dumbledore said, confused as he noticed the other boy for the first time in several minutes. 'What – what are you doing here?'

Suddenly the veil of confusion seemed to lift from those blue eyes.

Aaaah …'Dumbledore closed his eyes again and nodded, as though he was about to fall asleep. "… Of course …' he looked back at the two boys standing side by side. 'How long have you been helping him, Harry?'

'Caught on, have you?' Harry said bitterly, angry at the betrayed expression he could see on Dumbledore's eyes. The man had no right! Especially after what he had done! 'It seems that this was something you never knew of all along.' He laughed darkly. 'Well, look at that! I managed to get one up on the great Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!' He swiped at his suddenly wet eyes.

'Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Kill him!' he shouted, turning to Draco.

Draco looked at Harry, startled at the ferociousness in the younger boy's voice. Taking a steady breath, he looked back at the slumped form of the headmaster who was now all but sitting on the floor using the wall for his support.

Swallowing convulsively, he raised his badly shaking hand, pointing the tip of the wand directly at the wizard's face.

'Draco,' the headmaster said weakly. 'The death of Sally-Anne was a mistake, I know that. You have hurt nobody intentionally, though you are very lucky that two of your unintentional victims sur vived. … I can help you, Draco.'

'No, you can't,' said Draco, trying and failing to keep his voice level. 'Nobody can. He told me to do it or he'll kill me. I've got no choice.'

'Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine. What is more, I can send members of the Order to your mother tonight to hide her like wise. Your father is safe at the moment in Azkaban. … When the time comes, we can protect him too. Come over to the right side, Draco … you are not a killer. …'

Harry watched Draco warily. The blond looked like he was deeply considering Dumbledore's words. He couldn't back out now! Not after everything Harry had learnt tonight! Furious, Harry flicked his invisible hand, readying his wand. If Draco Malfoy was too much of a coward to do what needed to be done, then he would do it himself. He needn't rely solely on the Avada Kedavra. Just a simple banishing charm and the deed would be done, should the Killing Curse fail. No wizard could survive such a fall, especially when he was so weakened. Harry planned on using Reducto anyway. So if the fall did not kill Dumbledore, the big hole in his chest would.

A Reducto did not have the same irony as the Avada Kedavra, but Harry was fine with it. They had wasted enough time. Harry raised his wand –

'No he is not.' Draco said unexpectedly.

'What?' Harry said. His hand, still invisible, was pointing at Dumbledore.

'Father is no longer in prison.' For the first time, Draco's voice was not quavering. 'He broke him out a long time back.' He looked at the headmaster. 'Or did you not know that?'

All it took was one glance at Dumbledore's surprised expression, and Draco had his answer. 'You really did not know that!' he started laughing slightly hysterically.

But before Draco could say anything more, footsteps could be heard thundering up the stairs.

Eyes widening, Harry covered his head with the cloak, moving away from Draco and activating his necklace for good measure. He was just in time. For barely a moment later, Draco was buffeted out of the way as four people in black robes burst through the door onto the ramparts.

A lumpy-looking man with an odd lopsided leer gave a wheezy giggle.

'Dumbledore cornered!' he said, and he turned to a stocky little woman who looked as though she could be his sister and who was grinning eagerly. 'Dumbledore wandless, Dumbledore alone! Well done, Draco, well done!'

Harry rolled his eyes. All Draco had done was stand there like a gormless idiot and nearly be talked into fighting for Dumbledore. Who got the headmaster out of Hogwarts? He did. Who poisoned the headmaster? He did. Who disarmed Dumbledore and ensured he was wandless? Again, he did. And who gets the credit? The ponce.

'Good evening, Amycus,' said Dumbledore calmly, as though welcoming the man to a tea party. 'And you've brought Alecto too. … Charming …'

The woman gave an angry little titter. 'Think your little jokes'll help you on your deathbed then?' she jeered.

'Jokes? No, no, these are manners,' replied Dumbledore, somehow seeming patronising even though his tone was mild.

'Do it,' said the stranger standing nearest to Harry, a big, rangy feral looking man with ill fitting Death Eater robes.

'Is that you, Fenrir?' asked Dumbledore.

'That's right,' rasped the other. 'Pleased to see me, Dumbledore?'

'No, I cannot say that I am.'

Greyback grinned, showing pointed teeth. Blood trickled down his chin and he licked his lips slowly, obscenely.

'But you know how much I like kids, Dumbledore.'

'Am I to take it that you are attacking even without the full moon now? This is most unusual. … You have developed a taste for human flesh that cannot be satisfied once a month?'

'That's right,' said Fenrir Greyback. 'Shocks you that, does it, Dumbledore? Frightens you?'

'Well, I cannot pretend it does not disgust me a little,' said Dumbledore. 'And, yes, I am a little shocked that Draco here in vited you, of all people, into the school where his friends live. …'

'I didn't,' breathed Malfoy. He was not looking at Fenrir; he did not seem to want to even glance at him. 'I didn't know he was go ing to come —'

'I wouldn't want to miss a trip to Hogwarts, Dumbledore,' rasped Greyback. 'Not when there are throats to be ripped out… Delicious, delicious …'

And he raised a yellow fingernail and picked at his front teeth, leering at Dumbledore. 'I could do you for afters, Dumbledore.'

'No,' said the fourth Death Eater sharply. He had a heavy, bru tal-looking face. 'We've got orders. Draco's got to do it. Now, Draco, and quickly.'

But somewhere between the Death Eaters arriving and now, Draco seemed to have lost whatever confidence he had gained.

Fenrir snarled at the quivering hand of the sixteen year old. 'I'll do it,' he said impatiently, baring his teeth and going in for the kill.

'I said, no!' said the brutal faced Death Eater, throwing the werewolf off magically.

Fenrir snarled at the Death Eater but made no move to approach Dumbledore.

Harry shifted his feet as he watched the long drawn out tableau. He really hoped that they would kill Dumbledore already! Some bunch of free-thinking people these were if they were still hung up on following orders despite the fact that there were better chances of spotting a Crumple-Horned Snorkack than Draco Malfoy killing Albus Dumbledore. Whether it was his classmate's nature, or whether it was Dumbledore's doing, the fact remained that the young Death Eater was no killer. Harry could plainly see it. He hoped that Draco's "colleagues" didn't take too long in realising that fact. Otherwise, he might just break cover and kill Dumbledore himself.

Just then the door burst open and Snape strode through in all his dark and greasy glory, his black eyes sweeping the scene from Dumbledore slumped against the wall, to the four Death Eaters, including the enraged werewolf, and Draco.

At the very sight of the hook-nosed teacher, Harry felt a great rage build up within him. He almost whipped out his wand and shot a curse at him. However, he desisted. Now was not the time. Snape would get his soon.

'Severus ... please ...'

Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.

'Avada Kedavra!'

A jet of green light shot from the end of Snape's wand and hit Dumbledore squarely in the chest, blasting him in the air. For a split second, he seemed to hang suspended beneath the shining skull, and then he fell slowly back ward, like a great rag doll, over the battlements and out of sight.

Harry stood there, watching the spot where Dumbledore had disappeared, unable to comprehend what he had just seen. It looked like Dumbledore was mistaken about Snape. A small smile played across Harry's invisible lips.

Meanwhile Snape had grabbed Malfoy by the back of his collar and proceeded to drag the boy out. Greyback and the two ugly sibling Death Eaters followed, panting in excitement.

Watching the brutal-faced Death Eater leave the tower, Harry took off his invisibility cloak considered his options as he absently folded the cloak into his pocket. What should he do now? Naturally he could not stop Draco as Malfoy would be no use to him captured. Snape, regrettably, would also have to be allowed to escape, as he was quite close to Draco at the moment.

However, he could not just let the Order fight the Death Eaters without helping!

With that decision made, Harry sprinted down the darkened stairway. He caught up just in time with the brutal faced Death Eater whom he dispatched with a silent slicing hex.

The hex caught the Death Eater at the back of his neck. In a spray of blood, the Death Eater fell to the ground, his head nearly decapitated from the back.

Harry clambered over the body, paying no heed to the fact that he had just made his first kill. Jumping the last ten stairs, he landed with a crouch, his wand raised. Almost automatically, his right hand dug into his pockets and seized Dumbledore's wand, bringing that out to bear.

The dimly lit corridor was full of dust; half the ceiling seemed to have fallen in; and a battle was raging before him, but even as he attempted to make out who was fighting whom, he heard the hated voice shout, 'It's over, time to go!' and saw Snape disappearing around the corner at the far end of the corridor; he and Draco seemed to have forced their way through the fight unscathed.

Seeing the Death Eaters retreating, Harry stepped forward to help the Order. They were not doing so well in this fight. McGonagall particularly was looking rather beat up, her hair out of her tight bun as she fought the Death Eaters.

Harry could recognise Fleur by her brilliant yellow hair. The Gallic witch was engaged in a deadly dance with a massive blond Death Eater. Harry started towards her to lend his assistance when one of the combatants broke from the fray.

Without thinking about it, Harry slashed his left hand across the face of the advancing enemy. A tongue of flame erupted from his wand and lashed across Greyback's face, causing the werewolf to stumble back with an animalistic yelp, clutching his face.

The werewolf glared at Harry with malevolence, revealing a nasty but rapidly healing diagonal gash stretching from his right temple to the bottom of his jaw on the left. 'Let's see you do that again, little boy!' saying this, the werewolf lunged at Harry again, his face fully healed.

Bringing his right wand to bear, Harry levitated the werewolf. Not having used that hand to cast spells in a long time, the charm did not last long. However, it was enough to send the howling werewolf over his head making him crash into the wall behind.

Spinning around, Harry sent a flurry of silver darts at the werewolf, striking the downed man-beast in the back. The darts had not sunk in deep enough to kill the werewolf instantly, but they were enough to send the lycanthrope out of commission as he flailed about yowling in agony.

Just then pain erupted from Harry's right arm as a bone breaking curse grazed it, breaking his forearm, nearly causing him to drop the wand.

With a snarl, Harry turned around to see the lumpy woman, Alecto, leering at him, her wand raised.

'Oops, missed!' The woman said with a giggle. 'A pity, I was hoping to break that arm off entirely.'

Suddenly she let loose a flurry of hexes and curses. Unprepared, Harry narrowly dodged the first few hexes. He conjured his strongest shield against the next volley which barely held against the last spell which was a Cruciatus. Dispelling the shield, he dodged another Cruciatus and in the process, stepped into the path of a cutting curse that sliced his left outer thigh open.

Ignoring his wounds for now, Harry retaliated. With a wide sweep of his left hand, he banished the debris toward the woman, distracting her with small bits of stone. He then fired off two successive blasting hexes with a piercing hex thrown in the middle. Still not done, Harry slashed his wand again, shooting off a dark cutting curse he learnt from the notes the Half Blood Prince had made.

Alecto managed to dodge the first blasting charm which sailed by her and impacted the far wall. The next spell was blocked by her shield and she swung out of the third one's path. However, she managed to catch the cutting curse as it grazed her left arm, causing a spurt of blood to erupt from it.

Giving out a girlish squeal, she turned and scarpered, sending off a few random curses behind her as she retreated, joining her brother who had just been bested by McGonagall.

At the same time, Fleur managed to get the better of her adversary, who was causing most of the ruckus with his wild casting, by sending a fireball crashing into his face. Howling in agony, the Death Eater joined Alecto in her flight.

Removing Dumbledore's wand from his right hand and putting it in the expanded pocket of his cloak along with his folded Invisibility Cloak, Harry limped after her as fast as he could, ignoring the shouts behind him from the Order members and not noticing the gasps as they clapped eyes upon the macabre sight of his blood-drenched form. That bitch was so going to pay!

He skidded around the corner; his trainers were slick with blood. Breaking out into a limping run, he pondered where the Death Eaters could have gone. Was it possible that they had al ready entered the cabinet in the Room of Requirement, or had the Order made steps to secure it, to prevent the Death Eaters retreat ing that way? He could hear nothing but his own pounding feet, his own hammering heart as he sprinted along the next empty cor ridor, adrenalin allowing him to ignore the burning pain in his shin. Suddenly, he spotted a bloody footprint that showed at least one of the fleeing Death Eaters was heading toward the front doors — perhaps the Room of Requirement was indeed blocked —

Panting and cradling his broken right arm, Harry knew that there was no way he would be able to pursue the Death Eaters, not with the way his shin was throbbing. It would seem that he would have to let that woman go. But then he looked at the opposite side of the corridor and a savage smile played across his face.

Getting there as quickly as he could, his limp now more pronounced. Harry reached the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office and residence. The gargoyle stepped aside as he approached. Climbing the moving steps as fast as he could, Harry opened the door, stepping into the round office.

The portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses gasped at the bloody form that entered the office. Ignoring them, Harry limped behind the desk and removing his cloak, sat at the headmaster's chair.

Placing his wand down on the table, he leaned back against the leather backrest and swivelled the chair around so that it was facing the wall behind.

Harry quickly ran the fingers of his left hand along the wall. From what he had read in Salazar's journals, the office of the headmaster's was another command centre from where the wards could be accessed.

Finally he found it. He pushed the knot in the stone, causing a small panel to slide away, revealing slab of stone that gleamed in the low candlelight. Harry placed the hand that wore the Slytherin ring on it.

He immediately slumped into his chair, his consciousness one with the castle as he took possession of the wards, the first descendant of Slytherin to do so.

Immediately the entire castle seemed to open up to him, giving him an awareness of what was happening.

In his mind's eye, he could see people from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor clustered in their common rooms, having been woken up by the noise, wondering what was going on and why they could not leave.

The Slytherins on the other hand, slept soundly. Their location was far from the noise created by the conflict.

Harry focussed on the Entrance Hall and, in particular, the warriors that Salazar had created long ago using the bodies and souls of the villagers he had killed in revenge.

Harry heard the different voices sound in his mind as he awakened two of them after a millennium of slumber.

Seadh?

Dé'n t-òrdugh?

At the Entrance Hall, unnoticed by the fleeing forms of Draco Malfoy and Severus Snape, two stone statues suddenly glimmered, the yellow rock suddenly turning a gleaming metallic grey, their stone fingers flexing over their weapons as their heads swivelled ever so minutely.

Peering through the eyes of both the statues, Harry looked from above at the Entrance Hall. Soon enough, he could see Snape and Draco running down the steps. He waited a bit longer and saw the Carrow siblings followed by the massive Death Eater.

Kill them!

Ionnsaigh!

Do blàr!

Even though the statues responded in Gaelic, Harry was still able to discern that they had understood his commands spoken in modern English.

Alecto Carrow was in a dead sprint towards the doors leading outside Hogwarts Castle, her arm encased in a makeshift bandage. Suddenly, she heard her brother shout a warning. Seeing a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, she barely had a moment to process the huge blade coming towards her. Suddenly there was a burst of pain followed by the disorienting feeling of weightlessness as world spun crazily around. As she finally came to a rest, she found herself on her side on the floor, looking at a freshly decapitated body fall to its knees. As her world became dark, the last thought that passed through her mind was the realization that it was her body that she had seen fall.

Amycus was a few paces behind his sister when he saw something immense break away from the wall to his right, moving quickly along a path that intersected with his own; it was moving so fast Alecto was about to run into it, and Alecto, with her eyes on the front doors, had not seen it.

'Alecto, watch out!'

His sister, unfortunately, was running too fast. She only had a moment to look to her right when the large double headed battle axe chopped her head clean off. Amycus watched in horror as her body took a few running steps, not yet realising it was missing its head, before it collapsed with a wet thud, spraying blood all over the floor. Numbly he looked at his sister's head. There was shock written on her features as her eyes rolled up, the disbelief permanently etched on her face.

Amycus looked back at the figure that was responsible for killing his sister. It was one of those large statues he had seen throughout Hogwarts as a student. It seemed that one of them had come alive.

Snarling, he snapped his wand towards the automation, a blasting curse on his lips.

He never got to shoot that curse off. It was at that time he heard Rowle shouting his name. This was followed by a stabbing pain as something rammed through his chest and impaled him, lifting him off his feet.

Looking down, he saw the tip of a sword coming out of his chest. His last thought as he died was that not one, but two of those blasted things had come to life.

Rowle, like Amycus was horrified at the swift brutality that ended Alecto's life. Unlike Amycus, however, he kept his eyes on the large statue wielding the axe. From his vantage point on the bottom most stair, he managed to catch a glimpse of another statue behind Amycus as it swiftly moved towards his comrade.

He shouted a warning at his fellow Death Eater as he shot off a blasting curse at the moving figure of stone. His curse sailed over the statues head, as it skewered Amycus from the back with its claymore, lifting the short man off his feet.

Swiftly, the statue pulled the sword off the still alive Death Eater, stepping over the dying body and advancing towards Rowle, menacingly swinging its sword and sending droplets of blood and bits of gore flying as the other hefted its axe and drew its finger across its throat in a sinister way.

Rowle looked at the two golems advancing him. Backing up was not an option right now. If two of these had come alive, there was a good possibility that the countless numbers he had seen on his way here could also do the same. There was no way he could reach any of the common rooms to take a student hostage. On the other hand, the exit was very close by.

Taking a deep breath, Rowle unleashed a barrage of curses at the two golems as he ran around them.

His curses only bounced off the statues, impacting the walls of the Entrance Hall and causing chunks of rock to fall off. One of the spells, a Reductor Curse hit the giant hourglass recording Gryffindor's house points. Rubies spilt out onto the floor, their colour just as red as the blood from the corpses.

Rowle had made it to the front doors unscathed and had turned around to make a long desperate dash to the front gates when one of the enchanted figures lifted its weapon over its head with both hands and hurled it towards the fleeing Death Eater.

He had taken one step out of the doors when the axe took his left arm off at its shoulder. Staggering, the large Death Eater looked at the stump where his arm used to be. Looking behind him, he spied the two guardians moving towards him, swiftly gaining ground. Eyes widening, Rowle resumed his flight, scooping his arm up as he came upon the object.

It was adrenalin that powered Rowle's legs and kept him on his feet despite the unbalanced feeling coming from the loss of an arm. His ears did not pick up any sounds coming from behind. Perhaps the guardians had stopped their chase. Not that he was going to slow down to look behind.

He could see the gate right in front of him. Just a few paces more...

Almost in slow motion, a large figure stepped out of the hut. 'What're yeh –?'

Rowle did not bother to hear what the half-breed had to say. Pocketing his arm, he brought his wand to bear on the creature...

Stop

At Harry's command, the two statues ceased their pursuit, the axe wielding guardian walked forward to retrieve its axe. With a mental reply of Mi bhitheadh, they returned to their posts.

Coming out of his trance, Harry straightened in the chair with a gasp.

Swivelling the chair back to face the desk, he took a moment to compose himself. At the back of his mind, he could register two people leave the wards. He assumed those were Snape and Draco. The thing that worried him the most, however, was the seven dead bodies and two critically injured people. No longer directly connected to the wards, he could not tell who had died. The two siblings, the brutal-faced Death Eater and Dumbledore made up for four of the seven, with Greyback being the possible fifth, if he was not one of the critically injured people. That left two unknown dead. Three if he was being pessimistic. And considering the odds, he was sure that those would be losses on the Light's side. He desperately hoped that it wasn't anyone he knew.

Well, there was nothing he could do about it now. Not when he had other work to do.

The external threat was over, and the denizens within the castle were probably safe in their dormitories or ensconced within the hospital wing. That meant he was all alone in the headmaster's office, without anybody knowing about his whereabouts.

He had no idea what Dumbledore had bequeathed to whom in his will, and considering how much Harry trusted him right now, he knew he had to make his move now.

So, Harry rummaged around in the desk. He found the snitch in the top most left drawer. Dumbledore had placed the ring with the Peverell coat of arms in it. From the memories that Harry had seen, there was something really special about the ring. Putting it in his cloak pocket, he then got up from the chair and moved towards Dumbledore's portrait. Resisting the extremely violent urge to blow the portrait up, Harry instead pulled the side of the portrait, swinging it open. In a hidden cavity behind the painting, he saw the sword of Gryffindor.

'Mine,' he said possessively as he picked up the sword and placed it on the desk next to his wand. Picking up his wand, he turned around, facing the cabinet containing his Pensieve. With a wave of his wand, the doors opened revealing the Pensieve.

He smiled at the Pensieve that lay within. Another flourish of his wand had the device floating towards him. The stone surrounding the basin seemed to have a metallic sheen to it, just like the sheen seen on the golems once they were awakened. Harry frowned at the memories held within the Pensieve.

The memories were probably Dumbledore's. Dumbledore was dead. So Dumbledore had no need for them. The Pensieve, on the other hand, was Harry's. Thinking thus, Harry inverted the Pensieve with reckless abandon, unceremoniously dumping its contents onto the floor. Memories poured out like an ethereal waterfall, evaporating halfway through their journey to the floor.

Smiling once the Pensieve was empty, Harry called for Randolph.

'Take these two and place them on the desk in my study,' he told the elf as he floated the Pensieve to the desk. 'Sheathe the sword too. You know where the scabbard is.'

'At once, master.' Saying this, Randolph took the objects and vanished with them.

'What?' Harry demanded when he noticed the disapproving looks the other portraits were giving him. 'I am not stealing from Dumbledore if that is what you are thinking. No, the Pensieve and the sword belong to my family. He never did have the decency to return them or tell me that he had them. So I am taking them myself.' Switching to Parseltongue, he said. 'And you shall not repeat anything of what you have seen right now to anyone. That is an order.'

Harry picked up his cloak and draped it over his good arm. Noticing that Dumbledore had awakened and was about to say something, he continued, still in Parseltongue. 'And you shall not speak to anybody; living, dead, or painted. You will be asleep and always stay that way.'

And so, Harry left the office, never knowing that if he had actually seen the memories held within the Pensieve, he would not hate his two oldest friends so much.

As soon as he stepped past the Gargoyle, Harry's body decided to make the presence of its injuries known. Grimacing, Harry limped to the Hospital Wing. The mystery of the Ring, the Wand and the Cloak would be taken care of later.

Entering the Hospital Wing, he caught sight of McGonagall standing outside the door. She had a rather nasty set of scratches on her face and her hair was out of its severe bun.

'Potter?' she said warily.

Harry paused, just noticing the wand that was held in her twitching hand.

'It's really me, Professor,' he said in an equally guarded tone.

The old witch looked at him for a long moment. 'What did I tell you just before you left my office the day I made you Captain?'

'You threatened to turn me into a fluffy kitten.' Harry answered. 'What did you tell me after our first Divination class in my third year?'

McGonagall's lips twitched. 'That professor Trelawney's prediction of you dying wasn't going to stop me from assigning you homework, but if you were to die, you need not hand it in.'

The two relaxed fractionally. 'Now, what happened, Harry?'

'It's a long story,' Harry said. 'And I have no desire to repeat myself, so if you will, Professor, please come in.'

Opening the door to the Hospital Wing, he limped into the room just in time to hear Madame Pomfrey say, 'I've tried everything I know, but there is no cure for werewolf bites.'

'Who was bitten?' Everybody turned around on suddenly hearing his voice.

Harry could see the Order members who had fought the Death Eaters turn around and glance at him. Many gasped again at the sight of the bloody teen.

'Harry? What – '

But Harry did not hear Lupin, so intent was his concentration on the unrecognizable face lying on the bed, so badly slashed and ripped that he looked grotesque. Madam Pomfrey was dabbing at his wounds with some harsh-smelling green ointment.

'What happened?'

'Fenrir attacked Bill.' Lupin finally said, seeing who Harry was looking at. 'He wasn't fully transformed, so Bill won't end up being a full werewolf, but there shall be some effects, I think. Some scarring ... and he will acquire a few wolfish characteristics.'

Harry did not know what to think about this. He had no idea if Bill was into Dumbledore's scheme as well. 'What happened?' Harry asked again as he sat down on a bed, putting his cloak on the bedside table. Madame Pomfrey, noticing his particularly bloody appearance, bustled over to him, leaving Fleur to tend to Bill.

'Oh dear,' she clucked, taking in his bloody appearance. She waved her wand. 'Broken arm ... a cut on the upper left thigh ... I take it the blood isn't yours, Mr Potter?' Not bothering to wait for an answer, she Vanished his shirt and cleaned the blood off his torso, muttering about how filthy he looked and how rank he smelt. Then she tapped her wand on his broken arm. Harry winced at the momentary pain caused by the bones resetting.

'Right, trousers off, I cannot access the wound on your leg properly.' The matron said as Harry flexed his now healed arm.

It was a mark of how tired Harry was that he did not even flush in embarrassment as he promptly lowered his trousers and lay back down in his pants, his jeans at his ankles.

'Er, how did you get so much blood on yourself, Harry?' Lupin asked hesitantly as Pomfrey muttered about the rather deep cut and start working slowly on it.

'It was from a Death Eater,' Harry replied tersely, wincing now and again as his flesh slowly started to knit together. 'But I first want to know how they came to the castle.'

'We have no idea,' Professor McGonagall said. 'But Bill and one of the Ministry Aurors were the first to run across the five Death Eaters on the seventh floor. According to the Auror, the Death Eaters used Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder to evade them.'

'The two of them finally found Filius and I. I told Filius to go warn Severus as the three of us went forward to confront the Death Eaters.'

Lupin continued from there. 'Filius had run past Fleur and I on his way to Severus' office. He told us that there were Death Eaters near the Astronomy Tower. The two of us immediately ran there. I outstripped Fleur by quite a margin. She joined us a bit later on in battle. During the fight, three Death Eaters and Fenrir went into the Tower. We tried to follow, but thanks to that brute of a Death Eater, Rowle, advancing was hard. To add to that, they had put up a barrier that made it impossible to pass through.' He cursed again. 'At least Rowle managed to take down one of his own comrades.'

Harry raised an eyebrow at this. So that was one dead person accounted for.

'Then Severus came in,' McGonagall said. 'He swept past all of us and just walked right through the barrier.' She paused for a moment. 'A few minutes later, we saw him dragging Draco Malfoy of all people along. I don't know how Mr Malfoy got there, or for that matter, how you ended up there.' She gave him a piercing look. 'How did you get covered in so much blood anyway?'

Harry looked at the lot of them. By the end of the tale, Fleur was looking up at Harry, still hauntingly beautiful despite the gash on her cheek and dust in her hair.

Harry took a deep breath, thinking up a story on the spot. 'Earlier, Dumbledore and I had gone out somewhere for the night on a mission. Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned, and the headmaster got really hurt. I had to Apparate the both of us back. When we appeared at Hogsmeade, we saw the Dark Mark over the Astronomy Tower. Dumbledore did not want to wait to be checked up on. He insisted that we get there first. He made me put my Invisibility Cloak on, and we flew to the Tower. But it was a trap ... Professor Dumbledore realised that it was a trap when we heard footsteps coming. The Death Eaters managed to disarm him just as he froze me with a spell. I was forced to watch, invisible as they all surrounded him ...' He took a deep breath, steeling himself. 'Dumbledore is dead.' His voice cracked as he spoke the headmaster's name, the feeling of betrayal welling up within him. Harry took a few deep breaths to calm down. Just hang on a little longer, Harry. He mentally told himself. You can have your break down later.

His audience was stunned. 'What?' Lupin gasped out. He looked at Harry as if he could not believe him. With an anguished moan he seemed to fold into himself as he covered his face in his hands. 'Who did it?' he asked.

There was a long silence.

'Snape,' Harry finally said, his voice trembling with anger at the hated man's name. 'Snape murdered Dumbledore. He used the Avada Kedavra.'

The room elapsed into shocked silence at this.

'Dumbledore can't be dead,' Professor McGonagall finally said. 'Otherwise, I would have felt the wards of the castle shift to me.' On hearing this, the others sat up, hope in their eyes.

'Actually, that would be because of me.' Harry replied. He held up his hand, showing off Slytherin's ring. 'This is the Slytherin ring. As his legitimate heir, the wards have fallen to me. Before we left, I locked every student in their dorms. I had a bad feeling that something was going to happen. Dumbledore knew and agreed with me. He also gave me access to the wards so we could get to the tower quicker.'

He took in the shocked looks of the adults around him. 'I only found out this summer ... I hope you understand that we have to keep this knowledge under wraps for now. Voldemort won't like the fact that somebody else, and not him, is Slytherin's legitimate heir.'

'We understand,' McGonagall said. There was another pause. 'So he really is dead?'

At Harry's nod, Pomfrey burst into tears. She was soon interrupted by Fawkes' lament. The phoenix's song of grief seemed to resonate through everybody. Harry had tears in his eyes as he fought not to lose his composure completely.

'At least we got some of those bastards.' Harry finally said, breaking the spell of the song. 'I hit a Death Eater from behind with a cutting curse. At the last moment, he moved and caught the curse at his neck. It's his blood that is all over me.' He looked at his hands for a long moment.

'Ah, so that is what happened to Yaxley.' Professor McGonagall said. She shot Harry a compassionate look. 'Nobody blames you, Harry. You did the best you could.'

Still looking at his now trembling hands, Harry continued. 'But that wasn't all. I – I don't know what I did, or how it happened, but somehow I tapped into the wards. I alerted Hogwarts about enemies within the castle, and ... Hogwarts responded.'

'What happened?' Lupin asked.

'I was at the Entrance Hall a few paces away from the fleeing Death Eaters when suddenly two statues came to life ...' he took another deep breath, still looking down. 'The long and short of it is that two of the Death Eaters, I think they are Alecto and Amycus Carrow? Anyway, they are now dead.'

Lupin whistled at that as Professor McGonagall said. 'Impressive. I did not think that the castle had such formidable defences. Albus always said that Hogwarts held many secrets...'

'What about ze Garçon?' Fleur finally spoke up. 'I theenk 'is name was Malfoy...?'

'Oh,' Harry considered what to say. The Order clearly had not seen Malfoy, and Harry could use him in the future. Besides, if he did manage to get Voldemort, Malfoy would appreciate being seen as an innocent party.

'Well, when we landed on the tower, we saw him just lying there. At first we thought that it was their victim. Then we realised that Malfoy was alive, but under a body bind. That was when the Death Eaters rushed through.'

'Draco wasn't a willing participant throughout. I think the Death Eaters found him out of bounds and used him.'

'So Draco was kidnapped?' McGonagall said with a raised eyebrow.

'Dumbledore did mention to me that Voldemort was not happy with the Malfoy family...' Harry replied. 'I think he plans to use Draco to punish his father.'

The others grimaced at that.

'Snape,' McGonagall finally ejaculated faintly, falling into the chair. 'We all wondered … but he trusted … always … Snape … I can't believe it. …'

Harry watched as Lupin and McGonagall both took in the shocked news that the one person that Dumbledore trusted beyond all doubt was actually working for the other side.

'He always hinted that he had an ironclad reason for trusting Snape,' Professor McGonagall said, dabbing at the cor ners of her leaking eyes with a tartan-edged handkerchief. 'I mean … with Snape's history … of course people were bound to won der … but Dumbledore told me explicitly that Snape's repentance was absolutely genuine. … Wouldn't hear a word against him!'

'I'd love to know what Snape told him to convince him,' said Pomfrey, jumping into the conversation once she was done with Harry's wound.

'I know,' said Harry, and they all turned to look at him. 'Snape passed Voldemort the information that made Voldemort hunt down my mum and dad. Then Snape told Dumbledore he hadn't realized what he was doing, he was really sorry he'd done it, sorry that they were dead.'

They all stared at him.

'And Dumbledore believed that?' said Lupin incredulously. 'Dumbledore believed Snape was sorry James was dead? Snape hated James. …'

'And he didn't think my mother was worth a damn either,' said Harry, 'because she was Muggle-born. … "Mudblood," he called her. …'

Nobody asked how Harry knew this. All of them seemed to be lost in horrified shock, trying to digest the monstrous truth of what had happened.

'This is all my fault,' said Professor McGonagall suddenly. She looked disoriented, twisting her wet handkerchief in her hands. 'My fault. I sent Filius to fetch Snape tonight, I actually sent for him to come and help us! If I hadn't alerted Snape to what was go ing on, he might never have joined forces with the Death Eaters. I don't think he knew they were there before Filius told him, I don't think he knew they were coming.'

'It isn't your fault, Minerva,' said Lupin firmly. 'We all wanted more help, we were glad to think Snape was on his way. …'

'Is Professor Flitwick all right?' Harry asked anxiously. He remembered that there were still two unaccounted dead people within Hogwarts' wards.

'He was just knocked out.' Professor McGonagall said. 'He's actually gone to contact Molly, Arthur and Xenophilius.'

Harry wondered who Xenophilius was, but didn't bother asking.

'What happened to Fenrir?' he finally asked. He hoped that the werewolf was one of the unaccounted for dead people.

'He is still alive.' Pomfrey said. 'The Auror took him to the Ministry.'

'So that's Yaxley, that Death Eater you mentioned, and the Carrow siblings dead.' Harry muttered. 'That's four to one.'

Professor McGonagall exchanged a glance with Lupin over Harry's head at this. She was a bit taken aback by Potter's tone.

'Dumbledore isn't the only loss.' Professor McGonagall said finally. She concluded that it was shock that made Potter say that.

'What do you mean?' Harry looked at her warily, dreading the answer.

'We lost a student.' Lupin said gravely as he indicated a bed that Harry had not noticed. On it lay a body covered by a sheet.

The fact that he was wearing only boxers, socks and shoes did not register in his mind as he moved towards the still form in a trance.

Reaching the bed, he slowly removed the blanket and sucked in a deep breath.

'We think she was outside the dorms during the time of the lockdown.' To Harry, Remus' voice seemed to come from far away. 'We found her body just outside a classroom. I think the Death Eaters saw her on their way out and killed her.'

All Harry could do was nod as he numbly stared at the still form of Luna Lovegood.

But that wasn't the last of the bad news that the night held for Harry, as was evident when the doors of the hospital wing burst open and Filius Flitwick scurried inside.

'I was just on the grounds ...' the short man panted as he stopped. 'It's Hagrid ...'

Seadh: Yes

Dé'n t-òrdugh: What is your order

Ionnsaigh: Attack

Do blàr: To battle!

Mi bhitheadh: It will be done

And here's Chapter 30 for your reading pleasure ... looks like I killed Luna! I am evil!

And I did Hagrid in too!

Or did I...?

Oh, crap, *slaps forehead* just remembered!

Warning: Character death... two, possibly three, characters die in this chapter. Of course, you'll only know after you read Chapter 31!

Well, do review!

Cheers!

31. Post Mortem

Note: this chapter is again Unbetaed.

The reason I pulled down the 31st chapter and put it up is to tell you all this one important thing:

The Umbridge/Harry Potter pairing announcement was an April Fool's day prank!

*Head lands on desk with a thud*

It is quite surprising how many people have fallen for this. Did I not say "look at the date when this chapter was published"? That it was one day before an important date? It was published (before I replaced it with this updated A/N) on the thirty first day of the third month of the twelfth year of the twenty first century.

In other words, it was put up on the 31st of March 2012. 31/3/2012 (3/31/2012 in Americanese). One day before the first day of the fourth month of the twelfth year of the twenty first century. In other words, 1st April, 2012. A.K.A. 1/4/2012 (or 4/1/2012 in Americanese).

APRIL FOOLS DAY!

At any rate, congratulations to the guys who actually got the prank.

As for the rest of you who necessitated pulling the chapter down and putting it up again ... well, I hope you are happy. I put up the 31st chapter of this story on the 31st day of a month. I kind of liked the significance, and you spoiled it.

But the fact that I got you (and got you good!) kind of makes up for that!

Xenophilius Lovegood was an odd man, Harry decided as he observed the oddly dressed man enter the Hospital Wing from the end of the corridor. Luna's father did not notice Harry, however, due to the combination of the necklace and his Cloak.

As the doors opened and closed behind the distraught father, Harry caught a glimpse of the goings on inside. Pomfrey was still busy working on Hagrid behind a privacy screen.

The minute Flitwick had come in gasping and panting and talking about Hagrid, they all had assumed the worst. However, the body that came floating behind was still alive, if grievously injured and near death.

As soon as he had seen the Care of Magical Creatures Professor come out, Rowle had made a fatal mistake. He had wrongly judged Hagrid to be a slow sort and had so come close to the half giant when he had drawn his wand. He had come too close.

With a speed and swiftness that belied his large size, Hagrid hurled the first thing he could get his hands on. The shovel was halfway towards Rowle by the time the one armed villain had finished uttering the last syllable of the Killing Curse.

The metal end of the shovel was made of a strong enough quality to deflect the curse as it disintegrated, spattering drops of molten metal all over the place. The curse itself collided with the front of Hagrid's house, creating a spectacular explosion that knocked the Death Eater off his feet. Hagrid, on the other hand, was still standing, albeit with a lovely sunburn on his face as the hair on the right side of his visage was burnt off. The most concerning bit was the large sliver of wood sticking out of the half giant's arm, which would have been lodged in his eye if not for said arm being raised reflexively at the last moment. Hagrid, however, did not notice all of this as he was reeling under the shock of the explosion.

Hagrid managed to regain his senses a few moments before the Death Eater. That was enough time for the half giant to notice his house in flames as the front was blasted off, revealing the interiors of the conical one roomed house ... and the still body of his beloved dog.

Rowle had only a moment to register the howl of rage coming from Hogwarts' groundskeeper before the son of Fridwulfa bore down on him, fists flying as the giant of a man visited grievous bodily harm on him.

Desperate, the Death Eater fired off a piercing curse that got Hagrid on the gut. It was to be his last curse as the enraged giant crushed his skull with a final rage filled blow.

By the time Flitwick happened upon them, Hagrid was lying a few feet from his still burning house in a steadily growing pool of blood. Next to him was the unrecognisable and thoroughly pummelled body of one Thorfinn Rowle, Slytherin, Hogwarts' batch of 1979, Death Eater and known mass murderer.

Not wasting any time, the Charms master levitated Hagrid and ran back to the Hospital Wing as fast as he could, with the half giant floating behind him oozing blood all the way.

Madam Pomfrey immediately put a privacy screen around the large man as she got to work.

This left Harry relatively free. With McGonagall gone to fetch Luna's father (who, he learned, had the rather unique name of Xenophilius) and the Weasleys, and the overbearing matron taking care of a critical case, Harry was left only with Flitwick, Remus and Fleur to deal with. With a few muttered reassurances that he was fine, just tired and needed to sleep, Harry pulled on his jeans, put his travelling cloak around his shoulders and slipped out of the Hospital Wing. Hearing approaching footsteps from the other end of the corridor outside the Hospital Wing, he put his Invisibility Cloak on. A moment later, he saw Professor McGonagall approaching with a rather eccentric looking wizard that could only be Luna's father walking next to her. Behind those two were Mr and Mrs Weasley.

Looking at Mr and Mrs Weasley reminded Harry of the shocking revelations that he had lifted from Dumbledore's mind.

It was all a lie.

A deep ache developed in Harry's chest at the thought. He watched the doors of the hospital wing close behind the small party. The one family that had shown him so much love and affection were only doing it because they were being paid to do so.

Suddenly all those experiences he had with Mr and Mrs Weasley ... Ron ... the twins ... Bill ... Ginny, lost their lustre, and became shallow, fake. Harry supposed that this was how a poor man felt when he realises that he had been given Leprechaun Gold.

Still in his invisibility cloak, Harry leaned against the wall, breathing deeply and desperately trying to get his emotions in check.

He remembered the first time he met the Weasleys. At first, he had thought that when loudly asking about the platform, Mrs Weasley was playing a game with Ginny and testing her knowledge as he had seen many parents do with their children. Now ... his mind started twisting things around, asking questions. Didn't that seem a bit rehearsed? As if Mrs Weasley was doing this on purpose? Did Hagrid genuinely forget to tell him about how to get on the platform or did Dumbledore see Hagrid's momentary slip up as a way to get the Weasleys in Harry's good books?

And while he was on the subject, why send Hagrid? Why not Professors Flitwick, or McGonagall? Professor Trelawney would have been a more logical choice! After all, Hagrid wasn't on the teaching staff then...

Harry looked up and glanced at his surroundings. Without his thinking about it, his feet had taken him to Gryffindor Tower till he was leaning against the wall in front of the entrance.

As he stared at the blank stretch of wall that normally showed the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry came to the conclusion that he did not want to go there. He knew that beyond the wall were Ron and Hermione. Two people he had just found out were actually being paid to be his friends.

Did Ron really come to my compartment because everywhere else was full?

If he was asked that question a day or even a few hours back, he would have said yes instantly. Now...

Harry could not take it any longer. He stayed long enough to give the command to unseal all the dormitories after one minute. Once that was done, he all but fled.

Somewhere down the line, between his journey from the Hospital Wing to Gryffindor Tower and now to wherever he was headed, Harry's sight must have been affected for the walls and hallways were all suddenly blurred. While that would have been enough to be a cause for concern, Harry could not bring himself to care, as his feet just lead him along, without any input from his conscious mind.

Before he knew it, he was standing outside a door facing an all too familiar tapestry. Harry stared at the door with a dead expression. A thought materialised from the far corners of his mind, like a dusty whisper, that he did not have any recollection of having paced in front of the wall three times, nor of having thought of a place. But that thought dissipated like smoke. Reaching out an oddly trembling hand, Harry robotically opened the door and stepped inside.

Taking off his cloak, he observed his surroundings. Absently he noticed that he was in the same meadow setting as last year.

It was here, in the peace of his surroundings, when Harry realised that his face was wet. Reaching a hand up to his face, he realised that the source of the wetness was coming from his still blurry eyes.

It was then that he realised that he was crying.

Harry sank to his knees as the floodgates opened. Not only had he learned about the true extent of Dumbledore's treachery, and his friends' true natures, but he had also killed for the first time. Three people had met their ends by his hand. And those deaths had not been so clean. He could still see Alecto's head being chopped off...

Unable to bear it anymore, Harry leaned over, violently sick. Wiping his mouth and shivering, he watched with a detached air as the vomit vanished.

What really hurt was Luna's death, and Hagrid's critical condition. Harry could not help but feel responsible for both of that. If he hadn't locked the dorms down ... Luna may have been able to get in. How was she caught outside, anyway?

And Hagrid ... if he hadn't called the guardians back, and actually told them to finish Rowle off, Hagrid wouldn't be in such a bad shape. The image of the gentle man's burnt face and bleeding form was enough to make Harry nearly vomit a second time.

Harry did something that he had not done for years. He just curled up into a ball of misery and silently sobbed himself to sleep.

No sooner had he drifted off that he woke up again with a start. While he was asleep, the images of the past night plagued him. He kept seeing Yaxley's body as the Death Eater fell from his Cutting Curse. And if that wasn't enough, there was the rather gruesome ends the Carrow siblings had met.

What was worse, though, was looking at Luna's still face.

Forcing his glued eyelids open, he sat up clutching his lightly throbbing head. The mild headache, itching eyes, and a blocked nose coupled with a face that felt grubby was enough to make anyone feel miserable. That feeling was further enhanced in Harry's case by the despondency currently plaguing him.

Harry sank back down, curling back into a ball, feeling an all encompassing sense of lethargy.

I have no friends.

A tear escaped his eye and made its way down his cheek as the depressing thought filled his mind. This was far crueller than his early childhood. At least then he knew that he had no friends because of Dudley being an arse. But to give him a taste of true friendship only for him to find out that it had been a farce all along hurt him deeper than Sirius's death.

The abrupt appearance of an elf interrupted his thought process.

'The Deputy Head is wanting you, sir,' the elf babbled.

Harry gave the elf an irritated look. 'Very well,' he said curtly. 'Tell her I shall meet her later.'

'Professor is telling Tally that it is urgent, sir. She is wanting you now.' The elf said hesitantly.

Harry just closed his eyes as he clenched his jaw and fists. 'Fine,' he finally ground out, making an effort to keep his tone civil. 'Tell her I shall be there in a few minutes.'

Asking the room for a washbasin, Harry swilled his face. Putting on a shirt provided by the room, he wrapped his dirty cloak around his shoulders.

'I – is master alright?' the hesitant voice gave him pause.

Looking down, and sighing, he told the elf, 'I'm afraid not, Tally.'

'Can Tally help?' The elf looked pleased at being addressed to directly.

Harry smiled sadly. 'Unfortunately, Tally, I don't think so. But thanks for the offer anyway.'

Minerva McGonagall paced impatiently in the office of the Headmaster's office. Well, she supposed that this was her office now, seeing as she was the successor and Dumbledore was –.

She stopped and took deep breaths. She still could not believe that Dumbledore was dead. The man was always larger than life for her. She was privileged enough to have been taught by the great wizard when she was but a schoolgirl.

Minerva sighed. Remembering her school days reminded her of those from her generation that had been lost to You Know Who and his followers. Right now, only Augusta Longbottom remained. Her husband had died seven years ago, and she barely got to see her only daughter who was off in Peru teaching children magic (oh how much like her mum her precious little girl was!).

She wondered what her daughter would think about her new position. They always made sure to exchange the occasional Portkey Post, and would Floo Call once a month. Juno would as always insist that she pack her bags and come to Peru to live with her and her new husband. And Minerva would respond that she really was too old and set in her ways to go off gallivanting somewhere. Besides, she had her little lions to look after.

She shook her head. Here Albus was dead, and she was being scatterbrained, thinking of old schoolmates and travelling and other such nonsense!

Scowling, she sat down primly in a seat in front of the headmaster's desk. Right now, she could not bear sitting in her mentor's chair, despite it technically being hers now.

Filius and Pomona had gone off in search for ... him (she couldn't say "his body"). Pomona was up in the Astronomy Tower, to look for other clues and perhaps find Albus (in the wildest, faintest, chance that he was there). She, to Minerva, represented the wistful hope that Albus wasn't really dead, but had made everyone think that, while he was weakened and resting in the Astronomy Tower. It was a stupid dream, but it was all she, and they, had.

Filius on the other hand, represented reality. He would be searching the grounds, more specifically under the Astronomy Tower, where, according to Harry, Albus had fallen.

Thoughts of her House Captain had her head throbbing slightly.

The boy had managed to take over the school's ancient wards. Right now he had unprecedented power over the old castle and access to its many secrets. Technically, he was the new headmaster ... Dumbledore's successor.

The thought of a teenager being the headmaster of the millennia old school was at once amusing and worrying. She couldn't help the small amount of resentment either. She should be the next headmaster, not anybody else! That irrational thought amused her some more.

'What has you smiling so much?'

Badly startled, Minerva spun around. 'Pomona!' she gasped with a hand on her breast. 'I did not hear you come in.'

'Clearly,' the squat witch said dryly. Sobering up, she said sadly, 'I found nothing in the Astronomy Tower. I couldn't even find evidence that they had flown from Hogsmeade to the Tower.'

'That is puzzling,' Minerva replied thoughtfully.

They lapsed into a long silence, listening to the phoenix sing his mournful song in the background.

Pomona was the first to break the silence. 'So what was it that had you smiling so much? Do share the humour, its badly needed now.'

Minerva hummed as she looked at her colleague. 'Oh ... that. Well, it was revealed to me a few short hours back that Harry Potter had somehow taken control of the Hogwarts wards from Albus just before he died.'

'You can do that?' Pomona asked incredulously.

'Yes. He and Albus were the ones who sealed the students inside their dorms. Albus also apparently gave him full control of the wards so that they could get to the Tower faster. What was more, the boy somehow managed to be the first in centuries to find and trigger the castle's defences and use it against the Death Eaters.'

'Oh ... you do realise that this effectively makes him the headmaster, right?'

'I know,' Minerva said with a shudder. 'I was thinking about that when you came in.'

Pomona copied her shudder. 'Can you imagine? A teenage headmaster ... he's technically our employer. Think of the things he could do with that kind of power.'

Minerva snorted, feeling a smile tug at her lips despite the grim situation they were in. 'He probably would introduce a new class called "Quidditch Appreciation" or something.'

'I know Rolanda will be pleased.' Sprout said with a chuckle. 'He probably would also change the timings so that class begins in the afternoon. Then, curfew would be abolished and the uniforms would be scrapped entirely.'

Minerva snorted. 'Imagine the anarchy! Mr Weasley probably will end up being the Deputy Head. And then we'd have a new class; "Chess tactics"' she said with a flourish, with a sweep of her hand at the title. 'All the items on Filch's banned list will become legal if not a requirement for every student to have, an hour will be dedicated to food fights and pranks, and a limit will be enforced on the maximum number of times a student can visit the library and how long they can stay there.'

'Can you envisage the look on Miss Granger's face when they announce that last bit to the students in the Great Hall?'

The two Heads of Houses looked at each other for a moment before they both burst into laughter, leaning against each other for support.

It was this scene that Filius walked in on.

'What's this then?' The usually cheery Charms Professor asked curiously, albeit without any of his usual humour present.

Quickly gaining control of herself, Minerva explained what they had been talking about.

'Well, I disagree about the uniforms.' Filius said seriously as he perched on a chair. 'Mr Potter won't abolish that.' He continued mischievously. 'He'll just change it so that the robes are gone. Then he will shorten the skirt length.'

The three teachers spent some time quietly chuckling in amusement.

'I found him,' Flitwick finally said sadly. 'At the base of the Astronomy Tower ... I moved him to a private area.' He hated to bring the mood down, but it was inevitable ... Unavoidable.

Albus was a few years older than Filius. But he remembered the man well. It was Albus that gave Filius the idea about trying out for the duelling championship after the war with Grindlewald. Filius remembered the time immediately after that war. He had been full of lethargy, with no direction in life and nothing to do. Oh, there were jobs, no doubt about that. But nothing that appealed to him. He was frankly bored till Albus gave him his counsel.

Minerva closed her eyes in sorrow. 'And you spoke to Horace?'

'He will be up shortly. What about Mr Potter?'

Minerva made a small sound of frustration. 'The boy can't be found anywhere. Poppy is especially furious that the others let him leave, and he cannot be found in the Gryffindor dorms. Eventually I sent an elf to look for him.'

'I do not envy him.' Pomona said with a low chuckle. 'Remember what she did to McTavrish when he escaped from the Hospital Wing?'

Minerva's response was cut off by the arrival of a house-elf.

'Master will be arriving shortly, Madam.' The elf said with a low bow.

Minerva nodded once. 'Please send some tea up. Horace will be joining us shortly.'

'Yes, madam,' the elf popped away.

'Right, Teacher faces, everyone, we have a student to deal with.' Minerva said half jokingly.

Absently, she wondered at the tear streaked face and the watery eyes on the elf's face, but dismissed it. The elf was probably sad about Albus too. She knew she was.

She was also sure that she had imagined the adoration in the elf's voice as it spoke of Potter.

Tally was quick to burst into tears, unable to hold in her gratitude, as she profusely thanked Harry for taking care of the "Clothes Maker". Spending some time comforting her, Harry set off towards the Headmaster's office once the house-elf left. He had honestly forgotten all about the elves' problems with Hermione. But it had all turned out fine in the end. Between Harry outperforming her, her snooping around and no doubt trying to spy on him for Dumbledore, Granger did not have any time to devote to spew. That effectively meant that the bushy headed girl left the house-elves alone.

Naturally, the elves thought that this was all his doing.

Entering the headmaster's office, he found all three Heads of Houses present along with Professor Slughorn. Harry guessed that the portly man was there to represent Slytherin.

'Ah, Potter, finally.' Professor McGonagall said with an air of someone who was expecting him hours earlier.

'Professor,' Harry said neutrally. He really wanted to snap at her for dragging him all the way here in the middle of the night, but he desisted.

Harry sat there with a dead expression on his face as he listened to the professors discuss the fate of Hogwarts. Even though the night's activities had left him hungry, he could not find the energy to do anything more than occasionally nibble at the sandwich that he picked up from the tray placed there.

Currently he felt like Salazar Slytherin. Like him, Salazar had also been betrayed by someone he considered his best friends.

Five years or so after starting the school, friction had slowly started building up between Salazar and the other Founders. It had all started with one event: Rowena Ravenclaw's invention of The Book. Through an extremely complex series of spells, the extremely talented woman had enchanted a book to detect magic and pinpoint the name and location of the wizard or witch that performed the magic. Harry suspected that this was the more powerful and ancient variant of the modern day Trace.

Regardless, The Book had lead to an important discovery. There were wizards and witches out there who were born to Muggles.

The four of them had been astounded to learn of this. With them being either of magical descent or at the most (in Helga's case) of mixed descent, the four of them, like many of their brethren, thought that magic could only be passed down from ancestor to offspring.

However, they had mixed feelings about what to do with these "Muggleborn". Salazar was all for taking the children away from their birth parents (he still harboured a deep hatred for Muggles) and raising them to be magical. He reasoned that this would be beneficial to both the wizarding race and the child. The child would grow up where his gift would be nurtured and praised instead of reviled and shunned. And the wizarding world would have new blood, and hence a population boost.

However, Gryffindor objected to this strongly. He did not like the idea of separating children from their families. This, he said, was immoral and not how they should act. Instead, he would have them come to Hogwarts under the guise of a Muggle apprenticeship. In the end, the child would have a choice; stay in the magical world or seek his fortunes elsewhere.

This difference in opinion put a wedge between the two males. Slowly, over time, it grew even worse, till one day, Salazar found himself staring at three wands wielded by those he trusted. The duel that followed was furious. However, thanks to his advanced age, and the odds against him, Salazar found himself losing. Left with no choice, he summoned the last of his flagging strength to distract the three long enough to fake his own death. Fleeing to the bowels of the castle, in the Chamber of Secrets where he had stored his wealth, he spent a long time recovering his strength, occasionally getting news from the outside world. He had vowed to get back at those three one day.

Shaking himself from his reverie, Harry gave small cough, gaining the attention of the other teachers.

Placing his mangled sandwich down, he said softly. 'I know that the events of this night have been tragic. Snape certainly isn't going to be getting any awards for being the best teacher nor is he going to be getting recognition for being the best employee Hogwarts ever had.' Taking a deep breath, he continued in a deadpan. 'And Professor Dumbledore probably will qualify for the worst-decision-ever-made-by-an-employer award for hiring the crony of his worst enemy. Yes, it is sad and horrible not to mention tragic that the headmaster of the school has been murdered by one of his own teachers and that a student has died. But this is Hogwarts, dammit! This school has been around for a thousand years. It has weathered many a storm. It has been open despite many Dark Lords of the past. It has also withstood ten separate siege attempts by dark wizards and witches. It also survived the Dark Ages. It is not going to close just because of some twisted foul excuse of a wizard with delusions of grandeur. I will not allow it! None of us should allow it. Hogwarts will remain open! It should remain open! For closing it means that Voldemort wins.' By this time, his voice had grown louder as emotion was injected into it. 'So he killed our headmaster. So what? Are we going to just lie down? I say "no"!'

Breathing deeply, he looked at the shocked faces around him. 'Well, that's what I think, anyway,' he finally said. Picking up his tea cup, he drained the contents.

'Well said, Harry!' Professor Slughorn exclaimed. He had a passionate look on his face as he continued. 'I agree with him. Hogwarts has the strongest wards known to wizard kind. It also has a millennium of stored magic. We should not close it because of Tom Riddle.'

'I agree,' McGonagall replied.

'Wait a minute.' Harry said with a hint of suspicion looking at the teachers around him. 'You all know about Voldemort's name and true history?'

'Yes,' Slughorn replied. 'We, that is, Albus and I, have known who he really is for quite some time. After all, we have taught him. I suspect that Minerva, Pomona and Filius have been told this by Albus. And it is an open secret that he is a half-blood.'

'Wait, if you knew all this time, then why didn't you tell everyone?' Harry said with a bit of outrage and accusation in his voice. 'I mean, the man espouses pureblood values and is against who is not pure of blood and he is a half-blood himself!'

Slughorn chuckled humourlessly. 'To what end? What will that achieve? Will it make people less eager to follow him? You assume that people like the Malfoys, Lestranges, and Notts will suddenly decide not to follow him?' He gave an uncharacteristically derisive snort. 'Albus had tried that tactic a long time back. He made sure to mention it to as many people as he could during You Know Who's first rise. The thing is that nobody gave a damn. They did not care then, they do not care now, and they will not care if they were told the same thing tomorrow. There is a reason that people (with some rare exceptions) don't use his name. It is because he has built a reputation for himself. He did not become the most powerful and terrifying Dark Lord in recent history by sitting around sipping tea. The world knowing that he is a half-blood is not going to change the fact that he is a dangerous Dark Wizard who believes in the purity of blood. There was even a full exposé on him in the Prophet. You remember that Minerva?'

'Yes,' Professor McGonagall replied. 'I also remember that the reporter was killed in quite a gruesome fashion. The Dark Mark printed on his chest. Investigations showed that the man was alive when he was branded. The bones of his right hand were also removed slowly by a knife while he was still conscious.'

'In other words, Harry,' Professor Slughorn continued. 'Most people who remember the first war know. We all know about his ancestry. The thing is that over time, his supporters have either deluded themselves into thinking the article a pack of lies, or they don't care about his bloodline, or are too afraid to say anything. So really, between these three reasons, you won't find his lineage being discussed in pubs over a pint.'

The Potions master sat back as Harry digested this information. 'You see, Harry,' he finally said in a much gentler voice after some time. 'There is one thing you should know about the world. Be it Magical or Muggle: and that is that people don't care about hypocrites as long as those hypocrites are useful to them. His Death Eaters follow him either to get power, or because they agree with his ideals. His heritage is the last thing on their twisted minds. Of course there are those that are fanatical supporters. But convincing them that he is a half-blood is obviously a wasted effort.

'And if there is a person who opposes him because of his blood ...' Slughorn shrugged. 'Well, we all know what happens to his enemies.'

'Well, that was a very cynical world-view.' Professor Flitwick piped up. 'Unfortunately, it is not untrue.'

'We have digressed enough,' Professor McGonagall said. 'Let's get back to the point. Harry, you are currently holding the wards. I think it best if you hand them over.'

'I don't think that would be a good idea, Professor.' Harry said slowly. Seeing her about to furiously reply, he interrupted. 'No, hear me out, we don't know about Hogwarts' future. The Board of Governors could decide almost anything. With Professor Dumbledore gone, Voldemort could orchestrate a plan by which he can get a Death Eater to become the headmaster. If he could infiltrate Hogwarts despite the precautions taken ... imagine what else he has his fingers in. If nobody knows who holds the wards, it will be harder for people to affect a transfer.'

Minerva thought about this. If the Board was compromised (and it probably was), then she would have no recourse but to hand over the keys to whoever became the next headmaster. She was bound by a magical contract to do so. However, the Board had to directly ask the sitting headmaster (or the holder of the wards) to hand them over to an individual they had chosen as the next headmaster. They couldn't do it if they did not know who held it. And she certainly wasn't under any obligation to tell them who held the wards.

Before she could say anything, Pomona spoke up. 'I like your thinking, Mr Potter.' Looking around, she continued. 'I think we should go with this idea.'

Seeing Horace and Filius nod, Minerva spoke up. 'Very well, Harry can continue to hold the wards till the situation becomes more stable.' Giving the student a stern look, she continued. 'I trust that you won't abuse this power, and that you will hand the wards over when asked for it by me.'

'Yes, ma'am!' Harry said solemnly.

'Good, now if there is nothing else –'

'Actually, I do have one question,' Professor Flitwick interrupted. Looking at Harry, he asked. 'How did you get to the Astronomy Tower, Mr Potter?'

'Oh, we flew.' Harry replied.

'How did you do that? I did not see any brooms around the Tower.' Professor Sprout said suspiciously.

'Well ... you know how Professor Dumbledore has been giving me private tuition?' Harry asked Professors McGonagall and Flitwick. Seeing them nod, he continued, addressing Professor Sprout. 'I came up with an idea and with his help, managed to develop a way to achieve sustained flight without the aid of a magical object.'

In actuality, Harry had seen that research in one of Ravenclaw's journals. After that duel, Slytherin had been using his elves to squirrel away small things of the other three founders. He figured that he would be able to find some weakness by which he could strike back.

The research notes were hidden underneath the small cottage that Harry now knew was Salazar's childhood home. The Founder had placed preservation charms on the domicile as a memorial to his lost family.

Ravenclaw was a very smart witch. Some of her ideas and research were quite revolutionary even today. But Harry could not exactly say that he had got it from the founder. It would raise quite a lot of questions. Already, they were beginning to suspect...

'That ... is quite impressive, Mr Potter.' Professor McGonagall said. 'To do it in such a short time ... I always knew you had the potential!'

'Indeed, Harry,' Slughorn said affectionately. 'You are very much like your mother.'

'Could you show us the spell?' Flitwick asked in wonder.

'Not now, professor.' Harry said to the Charms Master. 'At least not right now ... I hope you understand...'

'You have a point,' Professor Flitwick said soberly. 'Now is not the time. Perhaps later...'

'Now, if you don't mind, I really have to go, professors.' Harry said tiredly. 'It has been a long night.'

'Indeed,' Professor McGonagall said sadly. 'It is a tragedy to lose Albus Dumbledore at this time in such a fashion. And what is worse is the passing of another student. And that too in the grounds...' she took a deep shuddering breath.

Harry bowed his head in sorrow. He had barely known the girl, but she held a special place in his heart.

'I – I sent messages to all four houses and told them to keep everyone inside till the entrances were sealed.' He said haltingly. 'I don't know how she got out ... if only ...'

'Don't blame yourself, Mr Potter,' Professor Sprout said soothingly. 'If you had not sealed the entrances, then more students might have died. Besides,' she added. 'You had done the sealing after curfew. She should not have been out. I wonder what she was doing out.'

'It wasn't her fault!' the sudden vehemence coming from the boy's mouth startled the teachers. 'Mr Potter!' Professor McGonagall admonished.

Breathing hard, Harry continued, marginally calmer. 'It isn't her fault. She wouldn't have been out if it wasn't for the other members in her house.' He sneered.

'What do you mean, Mr Potter?' Professor Flitwick said with a frown.

'Did you know that Luna was being bullied by half of Ravenclaw house?' Harry said to the diminutive Head of House.

'Those thieving ... people steal her things and hide them all over the castle.' Harry growled. 'She told me this last year.' His voice had taken a sorrowful tone by this time. 'She probably was outside trying to find them. Apparently it has been something she does at the end of every academic year.'

The teachers all looked appalled. 'I cannot believe this!' Professor Flitwick said finally. 'If what you are saying is true then ...' he trailed off. 'It looks like I shall be having a meeting with my students, and it isn't going to be a fun conference.' He said grimly.

Minerva looked out of the window and saw that dawn was approaching. With another jolt, she also realised that Fawkes had become silent. At that time, she knew without a doubt that the phoenix would never return. That he, like his master, was forever gone from Hogwarts.

'You may leave, Harry,' she finally said. 'Get some sleep.'

Watching the boy leave, she felt a pang of jealousy. At least he would get some immediate rest. Right now, she and the rest of the teachers had a lot of work to do. With a heavy sigh, Minerva got up and with a lot of trepidation, sat down in the chair behind the desk. Bowing her head, she collected her thoughts before resuming the meeting.

As the gargoyle jumped in front of the entrance, Harry sagged in on himself. The depression returned full force.

Dragging his feet, he headed towards the Room of Requirement.

'Harry?'

Hearing the soft voice, he looked up to see the concerned face of Daphne Greengrass. Seeing her was like a ray of sunshine breaking through the blackness of his thoughts as it questioned his earlier depressing views. As he remembered Neville, Susan and Hannah, his throat closed up. The light of realisation flooded Harry's mind, chasing the dark thoughts away, as he realised that yes, he did have friends. True friends: Friends who had not befriended him because of money promised by a conniving old man (and Harry doubted that Dumbledore would have managed to bribe them as well) but had befriended him of their own volition. While Harry was sure that he wouldn't have met Daphne if it had not been because of the contract, he also knew that she did not have to befriend him or get to know him. After all, theirs was a marriage contract. There was no stipulation that they had to be in love with each other. Yet, they had grown close.

'We've been looking all over for you. You won't believe the rumours I have been hearing! They say that Dumbledore is dead ...' she paused, noticing the unreadable look on his face. 'Harry? Are you alright?'

Harry did not say a thing. Instead, he just strode forward and put his arms around Daphne, eliciting a squeak from the thoroughly surprised girl.

Burying his face in her hair, he took a deep breath, taking in her smell. Pulling back slightly, he murmured, 'Merlin, you are so beautiful.' Leaning forward, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, pouring in all his need and desire.

The intensity behind the kiss took Daphne's breath away. She could barely breathe, not that it mattered to her right now, as her body responded to the wanton lust.

Harry finally ended the kiss. 'Come with me,' he said breathlessly. Dazed, Daphne let herself be dragged forward as she tried to process what had happened.

Harry was both hyper-aware and dulled of his surroundings. To him, the Room of Requirement was at the same time near but unbearably far. Reaching the place, he paced in front of the room three times, his mind too frenzied to come up with a coherent thought.

Soon enough, a door materialised, thanks to the room's functions of responding to needs more than wants.

Pulling a still dazed Daphne around, Harry initiated another searing kiss, parting her lips with his tongue and snogging what little sense the woman had managed to recover in that time period. The sight of his fiancé was the catalyst that triggered a reaction within Harry whereby the experiences he had gone through in the past night, the betrayals, the anger, the depression and the horrors all were converted into lust. He just wanted some physical comfort after all he had experienced a short while back.

Pulling back, he moved lower, expertly kissing, sucking and nibbling at her jaw and neck. His lessons, which seemed to have happened a lifetime back, coming to the forefront of his mind as he shortly had her leaning against the door, moaning.

With one hand firmly on her arse, Harry freed his other hand from her soft hair and fumbled with the knob of the door, his lips slowly traversing back to her mouth. Opening the door, the couple stumbled in. By this time, Daphne was also locked in throes of passion as she reciprocated in the best way she could. Her hands were entangled in his hair as she kissed him back with fervour. Needing more contact, she slipped her hands under his cloak, mildly surprised that she encountered bare flesh. She was sure that he had been wearing a shirt before.

Soon enough the back of her knees hit the edge of a bed. Tipping over, she landed on her back, still attached to her husband-to-be.

They did not realise that they had kicked off their shoes. Harry undid her top with expert fingers, revealing her bra. Moving his head lower, he started kissing a trial of fire down her neck as his hands went down her silky smooth stomach down to her skirt.

Moaning with pleasure, Daphne's fingers found the clasp of his cloak. With a slight amount of fumbling, she had that undone. Discarding that, her hands explored the muscles of his back, heading steadily downwards to the waistband of his pants, just peeking out of his jeans.

Caressing his hips, her hands found the buckle of his belt. Acting of their own volition, her phalanges undid the belt and unsnapped the jeans, letting them fall off as he tugged her skirt off.

Moaning at the loss of a layer of clothing, Harry pressed up against her, his hands now working on her brassiere.

Daphne gasped as she felt him press against her, unused to the hardness and the heat emanating that could be felt through their underwear.

It was when she felt her bra being undone that she regained her senses.

'Harry, please, stop,' she said softly. Her hands travelled upwards and onto his chest as she gave a gentle push.

Eyes still dark with lust, Harry looked down at her. Daphne shuddered in pleasure at the naked primal want she saw in his eyes. With a supreme effort, she brought herself under control and said. 'As much as I would love to continue, we can't. Not till we are married.'

Harry just looked at her, looking for all the world as if he would continue anyway. Privately, Daphne knew that if he did so, she would not resist him. But, much to her combined relief and disappointment, the lust disappeared from his eyes.

Daphne was surprised when his face crumpled. Before she knew it, he was apologising to her repeatedly as he gave great heaving sobs.

Her near nakedness forgotten, she brought her arms around him as she rocked him gently back and forth, making soothing sounds. She did not know what to make of his sudden shift in mood.

'Hey,' she finally said when she estimated that he had calmed somewhat. 'What happened out there, Harry? Why are you so upset?'

With his head nestled in her bosom, Harry regaled her with the tale of his expedition. Sniffling, he told her about how he had found out about Snape and the prophecy; how that information had shattered the small amount of trust towards Dumbledore he had built up again over the past few weeks. He then told her about his plan of finding out all the secrets the old man held. The betrayal and anger he felt when he realised that his friendship with Ron and Hermione was a lie. That the only reason they were with him was because they were being paid to be his friends. Finally he spoke of the mess of emotions he felt for killing three Death Eaters and the guilt that was consuming him for having caused Luna's death.

'I am such a monster,' he finally said. 'You must hate me so much for doing what I did. I'm so sorry –'

'Harry, no.' Daphne interrupted him softly but firmly. Taking his tear streaked face in her hands she looked at him in the eye. 'Stop this. You are not a monster. Yes, you killed them, but they chose to attack first. The fact that you feel terrible for having killed them proves that you are a good person. They would have felt nothing but happiness for killing. You do not. I know you. We all know you. You are one of the most caring people I have met. You are no monster.'

'Really?' he asked, looking and sounding very much like a young child.

'Yes, really,' she said patiently.

'But – but, I nearly r – ra...' he trailed off again.

'What, nearly had sex with me?'Daphne spoke over him, giving him a reassuring smile. 'Trust me, if that thrice dammed contract wasn't around, I would not have stopped you.' Giving him a lust filled look, she purred. 'You were so sexy then. I cannot wait for our first night together as husband and wife.'

Harry blushed as he gave out a weak watery chuckle. Smiling, Daphne said softly. 'You're tired. Rest for now. We can talk later.' Saying this, she drew Harry flush against her, pressing his face against her breast as she wrapped a long leg around him.

The last conscious act that Harry performed was to wandlessly cover their bodies with the blankets. Tired emotionally, physically and magically, he was quick to surrender consciousness.

Daphne was relatively well rested. Her exhaustion, while mild, was caused by sitting up with worry over her fiancé. Now that she had him safe in her arms, she too felt the pull of sleep. Closing her eyes, she reflected that this really was nice. Harry felt so warm against her. Getting a naughty thought, her hand slid downwards into his pants. But she was asleep before she could do more.

Harry awoke hours later and let out a sigh of contentment. Breathing in the sweet scent of Daphne's hair reminded him that he had friends. Friends he had made himself. Sure, they weren't as close as he was with Ron and Hermione, but he had time to work on that. A whole lifetime, in fact! He was going to be married to Daphne in a few months time. And judging by how close they had become over the year, Harry could only imagine how close they would be after they spent a year as husband and wife. Along with Neville, Daphne, Susan and Hannah, he thought of the others he had befriended. They weren't as close, but they were all right for a laugh and pretty good company if he was looking for a few mates to share a pint with.

Fuck them thought Harry. I don't need those two anymore.

With a contended smile Harry opened his eyes. His life looked sunnier now. Dumbledore was dead. He could no longer manipulate Harry anymore. Harry was free! Free!

Of course there was the rather large problem of Voldemort looming in the distance, but Harry was too happy right now to let that get him down. He was sure that a day or week or two from now he would not feel like this, but right now, Voldemort did not seem to be that big a problem.

It was when he moved that he became aware of his surroundings, more specifically, the body lying down next to him. They were still entwined around each other, only this time, Daphne's face was nuzzling his chest. Her leg was still wrapped around his hip, though. One of her hands was under his cheek and the other...

Harry felt his face flush red as he realised where her left hand was. Carefully lifting his head, he looked down. Sure enough, he could see her slender arm disappearing into his boxer-briefs. She was definitely groping his arse.

Immediately he felt his body react. Straining against his pants, he knew he was poking her.

He then took note of his own hands. His right arm was low on her hip while his left was wrapped under and around her, coming to rest on her left breast. Her left naked breast...

His heart rate quickened. Before he could think more, she shifted and said with eyes still closed. 'My, aren't we happy?' Giving a firm squeeze with her left hand, she withdrew it as she opened her eyes and looked at him with a mischievous smile on her face.

Clearing his throat, Harry gently extricated himself, sitting up in bed. Despite being around so many women in the past year, there was something about Daphne that made him feel nervous. Where had that quiet girl gone and what had this ... feisty woman ... done with her?

Daphne looked at him. She was slightly nervous at being this exposed, especially since it was the first time she was naked around a boy. But with the way Harry kept glancing at her was any indication, she had no need to be worried. She subtly looked down. The bulge in his groin was visible through the blanket. Unbidden, a range of fantasies flew through her mind, carefully constructed over the years.

Clearing his throat again, Harry said, 'I – uh need to go to the bathroom.'

'Why?'

Taken aback by the question, Harry looked at her with a weird expression. 'So I can take a piss?' he said half incredulously.

'Oh, I thought it was something else,' she said daringly, pointedly looking down.

'Oh, that,' Harry fought a blush down. 'Well, that happens quite often, you know.' He said gamely.

'It does?' She perked up at this new bit of information. Ever since hitting puberty, she had extensively and obsessively devoured books regarding the male anatomy. She had never heard about this before.

'Yes,' Harry could not believe he was having this conversation now. The open curiosity in her voice was quite endearing. If only she wasn't asking these kind of questions... 'You won't believe how often it happens. I don't even have to think about it at times.'

'Huh, fascinating.' Daphne said with a faraway look. Focusing on him she asked shyly. 'Can I watch?'

'W – Watch?' Harry said dumbly. 'Watch what?' His eyes suddenly went round as he understood. 'You want to watch me wee?' he asked a bit incredulously.

'Well, yes,' Daphne replied, fighting a blush of her own. 'I have always wondered how blokes do it. I know you do it standing up, but I want to see. Do you actually hold it like a hose?'

'How about we have this conversation later,' Harry said finally, getting his brain working again. He really did not know what to make of this request. Forget that, he did not know what to make of this side of Daphne.

'Promise?' Daphne said hopefully.

'Uh, sure,' Saying this, Harry quickly got up and headed to the loo. Closing the door behind him, he went to do his business. The task was made harder when he thought of Daphne's request and what she might do...

'Oh come on!' he whispered furiously looking down at his stubbornly stiff member. Seeing no solution, he called out. 'Daphne,'

Hearing her muffled reply, he continued. 'I'm going to take a shower. Shall I meet you in the Great Hall in a bit?'

'Sure, Harry.' Even through the door he could hear the amusement in her voice. 'Take your time.'

'Yeah, thanks,' he called back. 'Bloody woman,' he swore under his breath. Looking down, he said, 'Finally.'

When Harry stepped out of the bathroom, he glanced around to find the room empty. Pulling on his jeans, he dressed in another conjured shirt. Fully dressed, he bent down to pick up his cloak.

He paused when he felt one of the pockets of the now smelly garment. Reaching inside, he extracted a golden Snitch.

Instantly reminded of the other information he had learnt from the old man's mind, Harry frantically dug into his other cloak pocket. Finally he extracted the wand.

Placing the wand down for now, Harry brought the Snitch close to his mouth. Dumbledore had put a password that would be activated once the Snitch's flesh memory was activated. So bringing his lips to the Snitch, Harry thought.

I am about to die.

Of course, he really wasn't going to die now ... and if he had any say in it, it wouldn't be for a long time. Harry knew that death was inevitable. Nobody, not even Fawkes was immune to death. True the phoenix could come back to life, but he had to experience death first to be reborn.

The metal shell broke open. The black stone with its jagged crack running down the centre sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line of the Peverell Coat of Arms. The triangle and circle, though, were still discernible.

So this is the fabled Resurrection Stone Harry thought as he picked up the stone, now unencumbered by the crudely crafted metal band that once made the stone a part of an ugly ring.

Harry remembered the story of the Deathly Hallows which he had read many months back in the book Ollivander gave him. He knew of the Stone, the Cloak, and the Wand. But, he thought it to be a simple children's fairytale. Now, it seemed that this Stone was actually the Stone of Resurrection, Dumbledore's wand was actually the Elder Wand and Harry's own cloak was the Cloak of Invisibility...

He snorted. Dumbledore probably was holding onto some delusion left over from his childhood.

Cool green eyes looked at the wand on the floor. It didn't look very special. Harry was more than happy with his wand. Why would he need some all-powerful, unbeatable wand? Maybe to defeat Voldemort, but Harry had felt his own magic and his power. And he did not want some ancient crutch to enhance it. It would be him; his magic and his wand, all the way.

And the Stone ... initially he had wanted to use the Stone to bring his parents back. But then he reconsidered. After visiting Godric's Hollow, he was finally at peace with his parents deaths. Yes, it was tragic that they had died before he even got to know them. He truly missed them and felt a deep ache at the possibilities of what could have been. But why would he want to bring them back now?

To have a childhood? He was now legally an adult. In a few short months, he would be actually of age. Any chance of having a childhood had died long back. What could he possibly gain from having brought his parents back from the dead? He doubted that he would be able to be a son to them. At most, they would be friends.

To know that his parents loved him? The visit to Godric's Hollow had more than proved that they loved him. If not that, then speaking to echoes from Voldemort's wand in the graveyard two years back had, as had the fact that they had died to ensure that he lived. He also knew that Sirius loved him. After all, the man had made plans to blood adopt Harry.

No, the three of them were dead, and unlike the ghosts of Hogwarts, they were ready to move on to the afterlife. Bringing them back would be a petty and selfish thing to do, and Harry wasn't willing to be that way to the people who loved him so, and whom he loved in turn.

However, Harry would consider the Cloak to be the most useful. A device that could help protect his friends was something he cherished.

Almost contemptuously, Harry draped his Cloak around his shoulders, picked the Elder Wand up in his left hand and held the stone in his right fist.

When nothing happened, he snorted a second time. Master of Death, indeed. He thought with a sneer. Having an epiphany, Harry decided that he was not afraid of death. It wasn't a case of a teenager feeling invulnerable, for Harry knew better than anyone that death can come to anybody. Luna, he thought sadly, was a prime example. No, Harry was just unafraid of the concept of his life ending. Death, he reflected, was a part of life. Immortality was boring. And that made him different from a sixteen year old Albus Dumbledore and Tom Riddle.

Suddenly the Hallows started glowing. Harry watched, astonished, as the Stone, now glowing an ethereal white, sank into his right palm.

At the same time, he noticed the outline of his once invisible body now glowing as the Cloak became visible, generating a lot of heat. Before it could get uncomfortable, however, it too sank into Harry's skin.

The wand, on the other hand was a different matter.

Over the years, whenever it changed masters and its allegiance, the Elder Wand has always been able to assimilate the magic of the original wand of its new master before replacing it as the primary wand. After all, Death conquers all. What was more, the wizards that have won it always coveted it, meaning that they are willing, subconsciously or not, to give up their old wands in return for the Wand of Destiny. Eventually, the original wand of the master of the Elder Wand disappears, its magic sucked out by the ancient magical focus. The Wand would use the magic of the previous wand to attune itself to its new master's personality and magic, gaining experience from being used by its new wielder and adding some of its own to make it unbeatable till the next worthy individual came along.

It was the reason why the Elder Wand was so readily compatible with so many masters.

But here was a wizard that had won the wand without coveting the power that came with it. A master that was more than happy with his own current wand.

Over the past six years, Harry had managed to form a deep bond with his wand. The animals that formed the core had touched him deeply. Thus, for the first time, the Elder Wand encountered a strong bond between a master and his wand. It would be difficult to uproot and replace this bond.

But it did not stop the Death Stick. The magic of the Elder wood and Thestral reached out to suck the magic out of the holly wand, hoping to absorb the magic of the original wand.

But Harry's wand wasn't one to give up. It had fully imbibed Harry's stubbornness, defiance and courage within two years of choosing its master. It was this courage, after all that allowed it to best its brother, allowing it to take in Voldemort's deadly skill as well. Backed by the potent magic of two extremely powerful and ancient magical animals, the Holly wand was more than a match for the legendary Elder Wand.

Seeing such a stiff resistance, and recognising that it had been fully reunited by its other two Hallows by one of the descendants of its original creators, the Elder Wand halted the attack, and recognising an equal, started glowing as it became a rod of pure magic.

Harry watched, confused as the wand he held in his left hand glowed and leapt across, sinking itself into the skin of his right forearm. He wondered why that had happened.

His attention was then diverted to his left arm where inexplicably, his original wand, still attached to his left forearm by his wand holster was glowing in the same fashion as the Hallows.

Eyes widening, Harry had only a moment to register this when his world was filled with a bright white light as every cell in his body started burning.

Harry floated a few inches above the ground, his arms flung out, fingers splayed and mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes burned with a pure white light as a nimbus of magic surrounded him.

Eventually, it subsided and Harry dropped back to the ground, panting hard. Sitting back on his heels, he looked around. The after-image of the symbol of the Deathly Hallows danced in front of him, slowly fading as he blinked his eyes. He examined his arms. While they looked normal, he could feel them burn with magic. Gingerly, he flexed his fingers. He gave a start when he saw sparks dancing from the fingertips.

Clumsily picking up his cloak with twitching fingers, Harry made his way to the Gryffindor Tower.

He had a strong suspicion that he had become the Master of Death. He had no idea what that meant, but he was going to find out someday.

Now, I am of the opinion that Mrs Weasley's scene on the platform in Harry's first year was an innocent thing of a mother playing a game with her child. I have seen parents doing that to their kids. And I have done the same thing with my nephew once. Also, at the same time, I do appreciate that it can be suspicious at times and can be looked at in an unfavourable light towards Molly Weasley.

As for the people who keep saying that "Dumbledore should air Riddle's parentage and that would end the war" well, you can see my opinion on that matter. Hitler was a short black haired man who said that anyone who wasn't tall and blond was inferior. On top of that, scientists have found evidence that he is of Jewish origin. So why did the tall blond Nazis follow him? Because he was useful to their purposes.

The same way, Voldemort is useful to the Purebloods. They don't care that he is half blood (he could be Muggleborn for all they care). The fact that he is championing their cause is enough for them. The enemy of my enemy and all that. It also does not hurt that he has power and is getting more of that.

As for Luna, well, really! The girl is a fringe character. In canon, all she was useful for was to get Xenophilius Lovegood to talk to Harry and tell him about the Deathly Hallows! That's it! Yeah, she's quirky, and stuff, but she really isn't that important.

The bit with McGonagall thinking of Dumbledore not dying was reflective of how I felt when I first read of his death. I remember those forums and discussion topics that gave a million reasons why Dumbledore was actually alive and not dead.

Anyway, read and review! Even if it is to tell me that my jokes really do suck...

32. Plans

By the time Harry reached Gryffindor tower, his arms were throbbing. It felt as if he had been through an intense workout. This was offset by the euphoric effect of having magic thrum through his entire being. He did not know it, but his eyes were now permanently glowing.

'Harry!'

Harry took in a deep breath. 'Hermione,' he said in a barely controlled voice.

Breathy voices, sounding like the whispers of a lover, assaulted his mind. They demanded that he strike down the girl in front of him down. Make her suffer, they said. Break her ... kill her slowly...

Harry gave a small shake of his head as he clamped down on the whispers. His task was made harder by what he had learnt a few short hours ago. The desire to blast Hermione (Granger! he thought furiously) out of existence was very powerful. His fingers twitched.

'I heard about Dumbledore,' Hermione babbled on, unaware of the internal struggle that her friend was going through. 'Did you find ... it?' she whispered.

'Um, no, not really,' Harry's voice sounded far away as he replied. With an effort, he fished out Regulus' locket. He had barely remembered taking the object at that time.

He removing the note from the locket, he handed it to her, saying, 'I think I'll be going now.' Not sparing her a second glance, he moved towards the dorms to change his clothes.

Hermione stared at Harry's retreating back. Dumbledore's loss had hit them all hard. She remembered the numbness that she felt when Professor McGonagall had announced his death in the Great Hall during breakfast. But she supposed that it had hit Harry the hardest. His eyes were quite bright, and he seemed to be moving around as if in shock. Folding the note, she went off in search for Ron. From previous experience, she knew that Harry preferred to be left alone. Getting him to open up generally was impossible and resulted in the person talking to him getting their head bitten off. She and Ron would decide what to do in the meantime and then plan their next move.

As she left for the Great Hall, Hermione wondered about Draco Malfoy. According to Professor McGonagall, the boy had been kidnapped by the Death Eaters and used as bait. She did not believe that. Something was quite suspicious about that story.

Once he was inside the blessedly empty dorm, Harry sank down on his bed and looked at his trembling hands. He noticed that they felt particularly warm. His fingers were also glowing. A closer look at his palms revealed that the various lines that crisscrossed them were now made up with tiny symbols of the Hallows. Each triangle connected to the other by the line that represented the wand. Interestingly enough, his lifeline was gone altogether.

All that was secondary to the voices that now had now quietened. Harry had no idea where that had come from. Was it the essence of the Hallows talking to him? Or was he going mad?

Then again, he was pretty angry at Hermione. But did that mean that he wanted to extract immediate vengeance on her?

Perhaps it was the euphoria of being free of Dumbledore, or perhaps it was the sense of power coursing through him. Whatever it was, Harry decided to just forget about the bitch and that ginger twat. Sure, he was angry, but at the same time, they weren't worth it.

He had bigger fish to fry.

He fell back on his bed. A glance outside showed a beautiful day with nary a cloud in the sky.

He met Neville, Susan and Daphne in the Great Hall at lunch a few minutes afterwards. After the meal, he told them of the events of the last night. He also told them what he had uncovered of Dumbledore's nefarious plot and how the man had been manipulating him. He also told them of the role Weasley and Granger had played in the old man's despicable conspiracy, sharing with them a theory he had recently came up with. That the three had also planned on accessing Harry's family fortunes upon his death.

'I bet Weasley and Granger also planned on cashing in on the fame of being associated with the "Boy Who Lived" as well.' Harry concluded darkly.

His audience looked disturbed and faintly disgusted to say the least.

'We should do something about this,' Neville said, seated opposite Harry. He was breathing quickly, clearly livid. 'We cannot let this stand.' Susan, who was sitting next to him, squeezed his hand soothingly.

'No,' Harry said softly. 'We do nothing. This year is nearly over, and then we have one last year. I plan on forgetting them. They really aren't worth it. Why should they matter when I have real friends?' he smiled at them all, his right hand squeezing Daphne's left.

Reluctantly, his friends agreed to the decision.

Classes for the remainder of the term were suspended and exams postponed. Many students were taken home by anxious parents. The inns in Hogsmeade were filled to capacity by wizards and witches who had come to pay their respects for it was announced shortly that Dumbledore would be buried in Hogwarts grounds; technically a first for any headmaster of the ancient institution.

Harry was ambivalent about this decision. While he loathed the idea of Dumbledore being buried in the grounds, there was the advantage that it would be easier to use the body to power the castle wards. Besides, while he may be the heir of two founders, and the holder of the wards, he still did not have the power to change the decision of the Governors, or overrule them.

The upshot of this was that in addition to the inns being filled to capacity, the castle played host to several important dignitaries, the most prominent of which was the Minister of Magic and her entourage, something that made Susan happy and Neville nervous. Aurors had also come by the morning after Dumbledore's death to investigate the scene and take eyewitness statements. As the star witness, Harry was the first to be interviewed that very evening. The day after that, warrants were issued for the arrest of Severus Snape.

The warm June weather filled with bright sunny days and clear blue skies seemed to mock the inhabitants of the castle. Everyone inside was affected in one way or another.

Harry spent his days with his friends and avoiding the members of the Weasley family. Although he tried his level best to sound happy, he could not help the ache in his heart. The betrayal he had experienced had affected him deeply, deeper than he cared to admit out loud.

Eventually he took to quietly leaving the castle in the mornings, and losing himself either in different places in the Muggle world or in his properties, taking care to put up an appearance during lunch and dinner at the very least. Thanks to the chaos brought on by the outsiders and Dumbledore's death, none of the professors were there to monitor who left the school.

He also attended Luna's funeral which was held at her house. There was quite an impressive gathering that came together to watch Xenophilius put his only daughter to rest. Along with Harry and his three friends, many of his acquaintances from Hogwarts had also attended. The entirety of Ravenclaw House from Fifth year to Seventh was also present along with their Head of House. Harry had heard that the Charms Master had verbally flayed them over their deplorable treatment of the quiet girl before ordering them to the funeral, saying that the least they could do is honour her posthumously.

All in all, Harry wasn't the only person feeling guilty in the interment.

The most difficult part of the funeral, however, was the presence of the Weasley family. Along with Molly and Arthur, Ginny, Ron, and the twins were also present. Avoiding them was quite a challenge. But Harry managed, using his necklace to great effect.

On the Monday of the Royal Ascot Week, (incidentally a day before Dumbledore's funeral) saw Harry put on his new specially tailored morning suit for the first time. He had given his measurements to a tailor recommended by Augusta Longbottom during the Easter holidays in anticipation for this day, the day he was to be installed as a Knight Companion of The Most Noble Order of the Garter.

Examining his reflection in the mirror, he picked up his cane, an elaborate affair made of mahogany topped with a large ball of crystal (Harry suspected it was diamond) that he had found in his vaults, and exited the master bedroom of the recently renovated Potter ancestral manor where he and Neville had stayed the night over. He met Neville, resplendent in a similar suit but wearing a silk-lined top hat and wielding an umbrella, as the blond was exiting his room.

'Ready?'

Responding with a nod, the Longbottom heir fell in step with Harry as he made his way to the fireplace.

A short Floo ride later, they were in Daphne's house where his fiancé and Susan were waiting for the boys wearing modest but fashionable dresses.

The reason that the three teenagers were accompanying Harry was twofold. The first reason was that Harry was allowed to invite a maximum of three people as guests and the second being that Augusta Longbottom, the Minister and Harry's future in-laws, who, while equally (if not more) important could not attend due to Dumbledore's funeral.

In the wizarding world, a traditional wizarding funeral entailed the following: first, the family and friends of the deceased would gather together and rituals would be conducted to ensure that the deceased found peace, the body being laid out in state so that one could pay their respects. After that, would be the actual funeral where the body would be either cremated or buried. After the funeral, a meeting would be held where the living would appeal to magic to ensure the safe passage of the departed soul into the next realm. In the case of a cremation, this was usually followed by a ritualistic scattering of the ashes.

Normally, for the average individual (like Luna) all of that could be finished and done within a day, two at the most. But for important or rich individuals (like Dumbledore) it took three days.

Thanks to their age, Harry and his friends were not required to attend in the first and third days, as, by tradition, the participants had to be either twenty five (if they were not of the deceased's immediate family) or of age (if they were) to take part in the proceedings.

Harry's request to keep the ceremony and his investiture under wraps had the adults quietly pulling the children out of the school citing personal reasons. They all felt that the children could use a day off and possibly forget about the war.

Not that it stopped them from extensively lecturing their offspring about how to behave and act in such a high society event. Harry was the worst off. He was lectured two different times, once each by Daphne's parents, and Augusta Longbottom. The speeches he was given were longer than his peers as he considered to be less experienced than them.

Really, he should be thankful. Amelia Bones was too busy in her capacity as Minister to lecture him a third time, and Daphne's parents did not know him long enough to make it too arduous a process.

'Where are your parents, Daphne?' Harry asked curiously after the two sets of teenagers spent a suitable amount of time gushing over how the other looked.

'They left a few minutes before you arrived,' his fiancé replied.

'Too bad, I was hoping to greet them. Anyway, shall we?' he looked at the ladies, particularly at Susan, enquiringly.

'Oh, yes,' after some rooting around, Susan fished the portkey, a stuffed toy haddock, out of her handbag.

A whirlwind ride later, the four were deposited in one of the antechambers off the throne room in Windsor Castle, where the three left to find their seats as Harry was ushered to another room where he put on his robes.

To all present, the Garter Day Ceremony was one of pomp and splendour, harkening back to the days when the sovereign was not just a figurehead of the government of Great Britain, but Great Britain herself in flesh and bone. The men were all resplendent in top hats and morning suits and the women beautiful in their various colourful dresses, hats and fascinators.

Upon having his name called out, Harry strode confidently, making sure to focus in front of him so as to not lose his nerve. Kneeling in front of the sovereign, his voice sounded even and sure as he recited his lines, a by-product of the numerous rehearsals and repetitions he had gone through.

After the investiture of the new members of the Order of the Garter (of which there was only one), Her Majesty, The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh entertained the guests to a sumptuous luncheon in the Waterloo Chamber.

Harry had visited the castle once, during the summer holidays last year. He remembered being impressed with the large high ceilinged room and the meticulously arraigned table (which in his estimation was as large as one of the House Tables). Never did he think that he would be sitting down there having a formal three course meal with members of the royalty.

Having received a crash course on how to eat at such an event, he wasn't perfectly sure on what to do. So he surreptitiously observed Daphne and Neville (who were seated on either side of him) to fill in the gaps while using what he had learnt in Occlumency to keep track of what those present in his immediate vicinity were saying, and answering when spoken to.

The food in itself was interesting, the presentation more so. Harry never had seen a fruit salad such as this before. It comprised of fresh orange, grape fruit, Malaga grapes, banana, peach, and pineapple cut into very small pieces, and served in a small bowl shaped glass that fit into a much larger and long-stemmed champagne glass that held crushed ice to keep the fruit cool. This was accompanied by either Pol Roget Champagne or various other non alcoholic beverages. Needless to say, the teenagers were quick to select the champagne.

Finishing the last course (a filet of smoked salmon baked with potato scales and served with braised stewed lentils and minted peas), Harry thought that he could very well get used to this. He would have to get his in-laws to properly teach him more about fine dining.

Wearing their blue velvet robes with the badge of the Order (St George's Cross within the Garter surrounded by radiating silver beams) on the left shoulder, and black velvet hats with a white ostrich feather plume and heavy gold collar (among other accoutrements) the Knights proceeded down on foot through the Upper, Middle and Lower Wards of the castle to St. George's Chapel led by the Constable and Governor of Windsor Castle and the Military Knights of Windsor.

A short service was held there, at the beginning of which saw Sir Harry Potter-Black's banner of arms (an elaborate shield that jointly showcased the Potter, Black and Slytherin crests supported by a griffin and a basilisk and encircled by both the garter and the collar as was his right as Knight Companion of the Order) being displayed together with a helmet, crest and sword and an enamelled stallplate.

After the service, they returned to the castle by carriage. It was truly one of the most memorable days of Harry's young life.

The funeral of Sir Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Knight Grand Cross of the Ancient Order of Merlin, the four hundred and ninety sixth Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the three hundred and thirteenth Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation Of Wizards and the five hundredth Headmaster of Hogwarts took place on a warm summer's day in June.

There wasn't a cloud to be seen in the periwinkle blue sky as various wizards and witches ranging from the influential and important to the common folk found their seats in front of a marble table set up near the lake.

The funeral brought forth a mixture of emotions for Harry. There was the happiness and relief that he had rid himself of a manipulative old man bent on his destruction. But it was tempered by the sadness that such a great man had left the earth. While Harry ended up hating the man, a part of him still looked up to the venerable headmaster and could not help the sadness. On top of that was the sting of betrayal that was still fresh.

Harry thought that Luna's funeral was big. But that was before Dumbledore's funeral. And it was no surprise: many people knew the man or knew about him. Generations of witches and wizards had been taught by him or had him as their headmaster.

And it wasn't just the humans who had come to pay homage to the famed defeater of Grindlewald. The Merpeople had sent their orchestra who played a beautiful and haunting song that spoke clearly of loss and despair.

Firenze was also in attendance, standing like a silent sentinel near the lake. His herd were also spotted on the edge of the forest.

Looking at the giant Grawp comforting his half-brother, Harry wondered if there would be so many people at his funeral (though he wondered if he would even need to worry about his funeral). His attention was riveted to the front again as several people screamed.

As the last of the flames died, revealing a magnificent white tomb, Harry wondered if this meant that Fawkes had decided to join his master (or was it "companion"?). He knew that phoenixes laid eggs, so logically it meant that they also died. Permanently that is. Otherwise, the world would be full of immortal fiery birds. He did know how one went about getting a phoenix as a pet. It was something that he planned on doing. If Dumbledore could do it, then so could he.

He was brought out of his musings when a sharp pain went up his forearms. Wincing, he flexed his muscles a bit, trying to ease the pain. Earlier on, he had discovered that they did not pain so much when he cast magic.

One of the first things he had noticed as the Master of Death was that he could cast magic wandlessly. However, this was easier said than done. Earlier on, before he had united the Hallows, he was capable of performing a few basic spells without a wand. But, the more complex spells needed wand movements. And he wasn't sure how to replicate those without a wand.

So, he fashioned a replica of his old wand. The materials he used were different though. While the wood was still from a holly tree, instead of the basilisk fang, he used elephant ivory.

He then used this "wand" to cast spells. Along with making spell casting easier, this also gave him an edge as people would underestimate his true talent.

Of course, he had to develop that first. Right now, he was diligently working on improving his wandless capabilities. He knew that he would need it in the duel with Voldemort. He had a hunch that he could overcome the wand movements using intent and shaping the magic himself. He just needed to find the right key.

Standing up, Harry looked at his friends. He had not told them yet about the whole "Master of Death" thing, and frankly wasn't sure if he should.

That was overshadowed by the more pressing issue of what to do with Voldemort. Harry knew he had to end the wizard, and he also knew the location of said wizard. However, it was the execution that had him stumped. How was he going to overcome Voldemort and, more importantly, deal with those Death Eaters?

'Lord Potter?'

Harry turned around to see a distinguished looking and expensively dressed old gentleman with short white hair and a closely cropped Vandyke beard standing behind him. 'Yes?' he asked.

'I was wondering if you could spare some of your time...'

Harry shrugged, 'Sure,' he said.

The old man beamed. 'Excellent. Please, walk with me.' With that, he led Harry around the grounds.

'Ah Hogwarts,' the old man gave the reminiscent sigh of one who had attended the school a long time back and now was fondly remembering the days gone by. 'Still hasn't changed.'

They stopped at a copse of trees that afforded them privacy.

'With your permission, child?' the old man asked as he withdrew his wand and gestured around them.

Harry understood the unspoken statement. 'Go ahead.'

The old man then started weaving an impressive array of privacy charms and wards around them, his movements fluid and graceful, speaking of great experience, yet, with the kind of vigour belonged to a man decades younger than him.

'Not to be rude, sir, but have we met before?' Harry asked politely once the man was done.

The old man chuckled. 'Ah, I suppose I haven't introduced myself properly, now have I?' his voice was slow, almost drawling. 'Well, I go by many names, Harry, may I call you Harry?' getting a nod, the old man continued. 'Thank you. Now, as I was saying, I go by many names. But I believe you know me as Nicholas Flamel.'

Harry just stared. 'Nicholas?' he finally said. 'Nicholas Flamel?'

'Yes,' the man replied. 'You know, famed alchemist, inventor of the famed Philosopher's Stone, although, I would like to say "discoverer," not that many people agree, but anyway, yes. I am that Nicholas Flamel.'

'I thought you would be older,' Harry replied, unthinking.

'Oh I'm sorry,' Flamel said with a heavy amount of sarcasm. 'Do I not look six hundred and seventy-one enough for you? I had no idea that I was supposed to look my age.' He gave Harry a withering look. 'What were you expecting? A mess of wrinkles on my face like Grisly? Or perhaps copious amounts of facial hair like Doubledork?'

Unable to help himself, Harry snorted. '"Doubledork"?' he asked.

'Yes,' Flamel replied. 'That's what I call Mr I'm-So-Important over there.' he jerked his head irritably towards the tomb.

Harry had a feeling that he shouldn't pursue the subject. 'Who's "Grisly"?' he asked instead.

'You would know her as Madam Marchbanks. I make it a practise to mangle people's names. It amuses me. Want to hear yours? I assure you it's quite hilarious.'

'No, I'm fine, thanks,' Harry replied. 'What was it that you wanted to talk about?'

'Ah yes.' Flamel still had a scowl on his face. 'Well, I came to discuss a potential alliance with you.' A small amount of disgust was still evident in his tone. Evidently mentioning his age had struck a nerve.

'Um, OK ...' Harry said slowly. 'What kind of alliance?'

'A political one, of course,' Flamel replied as if Harry was asking a stupid question. 'You see, Harry, I believe that we share similar goals. I also believe that you would be suited to continuing what I had with your grandfathers, both the Potter and Black ones.'

'And what would those be.'

'To ensure that the balance of power is made right,' Flamel responded. 'For too long now, those less deserving of power have ruled while we hide from them like cockroaches. I think that it's about damn time that we take back what's ours.'

'Are you talking about what I think you are talking about?' Harry said suspiciously. 'If you are, then why should I align myself with you? Won't Voldemort be a better idea?' He had a strong suspicion that what Flamel was talking about was the wholesale eradication of non-magical humans. While Harry was quite happy to be rid of Muggles, talking about it was one thing, and doing it another.

Flamel chuckled softly. 'That idiot?' he snorted again. 'Please, the twit only wants to rule over the world. He does not care about the populace! If things were left to him, we'd all die out! He would be the end of humanity and magic. No, my goals are different.' He had a calculating look on his face. 'At the very least you can agree that we need to secure ourselves from the Muggles?'

'Yes,' Harry said without hesitation.

'Good, then I propose an alliance. I will help you deal with Druckermort. While I'm sure that your little conspiracy with Drano Malformed has a lot of potential, you still will need to deal with his Death Eaters. I have the means and resources to take care of that problem.'

'Wait, how did you know about that?' Harry said alarmed.

Flamel smiled enigmatically. 'Well, well, well ... took you long enough to ask. Now that's for me to know. Look at it this way; you know of my continued existence and some of my intentions and I know about the fact that you conspired to murder Dumbasadoor. I'd say that we are even here.'

Harry eyed the man warily. It just hit him that Flamel had been on this planet for nearly seven centuries now. And that he was clever enough to find the key to immortality. Despite his name calling (which was admittedly a little amusing) Nicholas Flamel was a dangerous man.

'How are you still alive anyway? I thought that your stone was destroyed.'

Flamel gave a cold smile, a triumphant gleam in his eye. 'Yes, that ... I was wondering when you would get around to asking me that question too. Personally I thought it would be your first question upon learning my name. Let me put it this way, are you sure that the stone that you saw in your first year was the real stone? Also, do you think that Dumbledore cannot be fooled by someone with centuries more experience than him?'

'Ah,' Harry paused for a moment, considering his options. Here was an experienced, wily and crafty (if slightly mad) man who was willing to help him end Voldemort. In return, he asked for an alliance to deal with Muggles. Harry wasn't exactly averse to the condition. The voices in his head, ever present, whispered to him to take this offer, to gain more power. Harry found himself listening to them.

'Very well,' he said finally. 'I will help you with the Muggle problem if you help me with Dru – I mean – Voldemort.'

'I wasn't planning on asking anything more, boy,' Flamel replied amusedly. 'I could use that popularity you will no doubt engender after you defeat that moron. Now, I shall owl you when I have a contract drawn up. We will meet at Gringotts to sign it. Perhaps one of your little friends will be willing to act as a witness.'

'How did you know about my agreement with Draco?' Harry asked again.

'That is for me to know, and you to find out.' Flamel said with a twinkle in his eye. Drawing his wand out, he cancelled the charms and wards. 'Perhaps later on, in the off chance that we build some trust between us, I will tell you how I know.'

He turned to go.

'Wait,' Harry said. 'What do you mean when you said that both my grandfathers had a similar goal?'

Flamel only smiled enigmatically. 'Come to Gringotts and find out.'

With that parting shot, the alchemist walked briskly away from Harry, heading to the front gates, his stride long and purposeful.

Draco Malfoy sat down at the dining table in his house. He silently watched as the others filled into the room, waiting for their lord and master.

It had been nearly a week since Dumbledore's death. The Dark Lord had not been present at the night of the deed as he had departed on a journey overseas a few days back. Nevertheless, he had soon returned the day after to hear the news about the death of his greatest rival.

Standing in front of the fireplace, Voldemort took a long moment to contemplate the crackling logs before saying in his high cold voice, 'Draco, tell me what happened that night.'

Draco, who was sitting next to Snape in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor swallowed nervously and stood up. He gave his account of the night Dumbledore had died, starting from the Death Eaters entering Hogwarts all the way to meeting Bellatrix just inside the castle gates as they made their hasty escape. He had no idea how the other Death Eaters had fallen as they had managed to gain quite a lead on the rest. But from reports the next day, it was more than clear that they had not made it.

'Sit down Draco,' Voldemort said softly, turning around.

To say that he had not been pleased to hear about the deaths of the Carrow siblings, Yaxley and Rowle was like saying that it was slightly nippy in Antarctica. Add in Greyback's capture, and Voldemort was positively seething.

'We shall make those fools pay for their deaths.' He said softly, circling Snape and Draco, his red eyes aglow with restrained malice and rage. 'I do not blame the two of you for our losses.' Voldemort said softly after a long pause right behind Draco.

Even though his face was neutral as he circled back in front of the two Death Eaters, Voldemort's eyes showed his amusement at making the boy jerk in surprise.

Turning to the fireplace again, Voldemort watched the flames dance before speaking up again, his voice contrastingly cold to the blaze. 'So I see that you completed the task I set for you, Draco.'

'Indeed, master,' Draco spoke up quickly. 'Dumbledore is dead just as you wanted him.'

'Yes,' Voldemort said softly, his back still turned towards them. 'And he died by your hand...?'

'Yes, master,' Figuring that with no witnesses present to the bad decisions he had made on the night of the battle, Draco felt that he could paint himself in a better light. His claim of being the one who killed Dumbledore was a bold move on his part. But he figured that if he said this before Snape got a chance to tell his side of the story, then he would be able to curry favour with the Dark Lord.

He ignored the furtive glance Snape sent his way. After all, it had been his plan and his efforts, not Snape's, that got the headmaster killed.

Of course, there was Potter's involvement, but between the vow and what he feared the Dark Lord might do to him, Draco decided not to enlighten Him about it.

Still facing the fireplace, Voldemort turned his head fractionally to look at Draco from the corner of his eye. 'And how did it feel to take another life, Draco?' his eye narrowed imperceptibly.

Draco licked his lips, unexpectedly put on the spot. 'It was hard, sir,' he began slowly. 'But after I said the last syllable I –'

He was cut off from saying more as Voldemort unexpectedly started laughing. The high, cold laughter made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

With a blur of motion, faster than Draco could comprehend, Voldemort had turned around, his wand extended.

Draco did not have any time to move as the spell hit him full on. At first he did not feel anything, but suddenly, he winced as he felt a line of fire on his bottom.

As another line appeared, he hissed. It felt like a whip was being used on his skin.

With a yelp, he fell off his seat and onto the floor. He was not prepared for the pain when it erupted on his back. Soon enough, he was writhing on the floor, his body jerking involuntarily as the intervals became shorter and the potency increased.

Voldemort stood over him, smirking, as Draco jerked around, trying to use his hands to ward off the pain in vain. With a flick, he finally lifted the spell.

'Draco, Draco, Draco,' he cooed, sounding quite dangerous as he loomed over the silently weeping boy. 'You are a terrible liar. Your mouth says one thing, but your eyes ... they tell the truth.' Seeing the horrified expression on the boy's face, Voldemort chuckled. 'I don't even need to tear down those shields you have put up around your mind, even though I could do it easily, to know that much.' With his foot, he nudged the blond onto his back. The boy hissed as his abused flesh came into contact with the floor. 'Don't think so highly of yourself, boy. I have better things to do than dip into that hormonal cesspool you call a mind.' He pinned the boy by placing his foot on the blond's chest. Leaning forward, he tisked, 'Lying ... so childish ... not surprising, coming from a little boy.' He sneered. 'And so you get punished like a little boy. Did that spanking hex hurt?' he asked in mock concern.

Not waiting for Draco to reply, Voldemort looked up to Snape, his foot still on Draco. 'Severus, I am disappointed. Surely as the boy's teacher, you know to educate him that lying is not acceptable?'

'When the student isn't willing, there is nothing that the best of teachers can do, my lord,' Snape replied smoothly.

Voldemort chuckled, 'Ah, Severus, eloquent as always. But I do not blame you. Dumbledore is known to show a soft spot for all those whelps. It is rather pathetic of him.'

'Indeed, my lord.'

'Or should I say "was" ...' the Dark Lord trailed off thoughtfully. 'It is quite satisfying to know that Dumbledore is finally dead.' He savoured the moment, his eyes closed.

Red eyes suddenly opened as Voldemort looked down at Draco, surveying him as a hungry eagle might look at a tasty lamb. 'You know, boy, Severus has been reporting your progress to me for the whole year now. He told me all of your failures.' He leaned down on Draco's chest, putting his weight on his foot. 'About how he had to cover for you,' he shifted his weight a bit more. 'And that Dumbledore was aware of your plans within a day after that incident with the necklace.' Draco groaned as the pressure increased, his ribs creaking under Voldemort's weight as his master ground the heel of his boot in for good measure.

'I should kill you for your incompetence. But you did the job, however pathetically it was done. So I shall spare you and your family.'

With the boy still pinned down, Voldemort aimed his wand and cast the Cruciatus Curse, a malevolent and sadistic leer on his face as he watched Draco writhe beneath his foot.

Lifting his wand, he looked at the panting and crying form below him. 'And that, little boy is how a man is punished.' He nudged him with his foot. 'Congratulations,' he said mockingly. Lifting his foot off the boy, he moved to the door.

'Severus, come,' he said as he opened the door. 'Leave the blubbering baby behind. Hopefully he will grow up enough to leave the room like a man, however unlikely that may be.' he sneered. 'His mummy probably will be the first in here within minutes to coddle him. Perhaps even change his nappy and give him his milk while she is at it.'

Voldemort mentally snorted as he left the room. Considering that the boy had grown up in the house, one would think that he would know that there was a mirror set up over the fireplace.

He had seen the minute flicker of surprise in Severus' eyes and had caught the clandestine glance the Potions master had sent to the boy when Draco had made his false claims.

Of course, there was the small problem of him having placed a Notice Me Not Charm on the mirror...

Draco slowly sat up and dragged himself to one of the armchairs.

He never felt so humiliated in his life. Voldemort might call that a spanking hex, but Draco knew differently. His parents had used the hex on him a few times in the past in the rare times he had misbehaved. It was never as brutally painful as this. Nor was it used on his back. He felt a bit of wetness there and he knew that he was bleeding a little.

Draco did not know what he hated more, the pain or the fact that Voldemort called what he did a "punishment". It was more along the lines of torture.

Getting up on trembling legs, he went to his room. He carefully opened a drawer and shifted the contents inside, looking at the mirror within.

After speaking to him and Severus, the Dark Lord had left to places unknown. He had returned the previous night and had called for a conference in the dining room with his Death Eaters.

And so here he was, waiting fearfully for the Dark Lord to come. He never did enjoy being in the man's presence.

'We have great news, my friends,' Voldemort spoke up, interrupting Draco's thoughts. 'Thanks to the efforts of a few brave individuals, Dumbledore is now dead.' Before the Death Eaters could give any reaction, he continued speaking,, his voice convincingly ponderous and sorrowful. 'And yet, we have lost four valuable members of our forces. Yaxley, The Carrow siblings and Rowle will be missed.' Following his cue, they all bent their heads in silence.

'However, we shall not let their deaths be in vain.' Voldemort said a minute later, the fire casting an odd light on his red eyes. 'We shall show those scum true terror ...' he trailed off, looking thoughtful.

'However, before we begin plans of attack, we must speak of the bigger plans. Yaxley was the main person behind the infiltration of the Ministry. I trust that you, Dolohov can take up the slack?'

The man in question turned his twisted face to Voldemort. 'Yes, my Lord. The minute we suspected Yaxley's death, I rounded up a few Death Eaters and we immediately set off that night itself to renew the Imperius curses placed on his victims before they could fully throw the curse off.'

'Excellent,' Voldemort sounded pleased. 'One rarely gets to see such drive and initiative, don't you agree, Malfoy?'

Lucius started in surprise. 'M-my Lord?'

'Tut, tut, Lucius,' Voldemort said mockingly as the other Death Eaters sniggered. 'Do pay attention. Although,' he cocked his head to the side inquisitively, studying the blond man's unnaturally pale face, baggy eyes and haggard look. 'You do look a bit unwell ... And unhappy. Something displeases you, Lucius?'

'Is it my presence? Does the fact that I reside in your house make you discontent?' Voldemort continued when the man did not answer, his red eyes wide with malice. 'Despite the fact that I gave you liberty, you and your family seem quite ungrateful.'

'N-no my Lord,' Draco had never heard his father stutter like this before. He hated it. Yet he was too afraid for it to show. He carefully averted his eyes, making sure not to meet Voldemort's gaze. His mother seemed to share his thoughts for she too kept her gaze resolutely on the far wall.

Voldemort hissed, 'Such lies, Lucius.' The hissing did not stop but continued, making the collective at the table flinch as Nagini extended her impressive length from the floor to drape herself around Voldemort.

'My Lord,' Bellatrix spoke up passionately, looking at Voldemort, who was idly stroking the snake's head, with an almost devotional look on her face. 'It is an honour to have your presence in our house. Nothing gives me more pleasure than to have one such as you staying with us.'

'Nothing, Bellatrix?' Voldemort said with glee. 'Not even after the happy event I hear has taken place in your family?'

'I – I don't understand, my Lord...' Bellatrix trailed off uncertainly. The other Death Eaters all leaned forward eagerly, watching the show.

'I believe congratulations are in order,' Voldemort continued. 'Your niece has apparently found herself a man, the Werewolf, Lupin, I believe. She is also expecting a child. Congratulations, Bellatrix, you will soon be a great Aunt. You, Lucius and Narcissa must be so proud.'

There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys' humiliation. Bellatrix's face had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

'She is no niece of ours, my Lord,' she said over the outpouring of mirth. 'I consider neither her nor her mother family.'

'Of course not, and if what Snape tells me is right, then the feeling is mutual.' Voldemort's quiet voice cut through the laughter effectively.

'My Lord?'

'Oh don't you know, Bellatrix?' Voldemort said with a sadistic smile on his face. 'Dumbledore has told my trusted spy here that Sirius Black has not only managed to adopt Harry Potter into the Black family and make him his heir, but has also managed to do it so thoroughly that the boy has the power to take members back into the family's fold ... and at the same time, disinherit them...'

There was a pin drop's silence at the news.

'What?' Bellatrix finally shrieked in shock.

'Yes, my dear,' Voldemort looked at the female Death Eater. 'Potter (or is it Potter-Black) has managed to cast you out of the Black family.' His lips stretched into a leer. 'I guess we have a blood traitor with us, now that Bellatrix here cannot call herself a Black anymore...'

The table was silent at the news. While there was no love lost between Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters sitting at the table, the fact was that none of them (including Rodolphus Lestrange) wanted to be the target for the obviously enraged witch's ire.

'That pathetic little Half-Blood, I am going to –'

'You are going to do nothing, Bellatrix.' Voldemort interrupted softly, red eyes flashing in the firelight. He stared intently at the volatile Death Eater, till she looked away, cowed.

Satisfied, Voldemort continued glaring at the whole table. 'None of you are doing anything. That boy is mine.' Taking a contemplative look he leaned back, staring at nothing in particular. 'I have made many mistakes when it comes to the boy. There have been too many mistakes where Harry Potter is concerned. Some of them have been my own. That Potter lives is due more to my errors than to his triumphs. I have been careless, and so have been thwarted by luck and chance, those wreckers of all but the best-laid plans. But I know better now. I understand those things that I did not understand before. I must be the one to kill Harry Potter.

'But before I go and kill Potter, I shall need to borrow a wand from one of you.'

Voldemort looked around at the silent table. None of his Death Eaters would meet his eyes. They all shifted uncomfortably, as if he had asked to borrow a limb.

'No volunteers? Very well, Lucius, I don't see any reason for you to be with a wand. So if you please.' He held out his hand expectantly.

Accepting the wand from the reluctant pureblood, Voldemort absently compared his wand to Malfoy's as the rest of the Death Eaters revelled in their colleague's humiliation.

'I guess this will have to do,' Voldemort sneered pocketing his wand along with the shorter one. 'Don't worry too much, Lucius, I will return the wand when I am done killing the boy. After all, it does not have much use for me otherwise.' He waited till the renewed sniggers died out before speaking again. 'Now, we shall make the Light regret crossing us. We have stayed in the shadows for much too long now. I think it is time for them to realise that their precious prison is not as secure as they thought it to be and had already been breached under their noses. We shall attack after three days have passed.'

'My Lord, won't it be better to do this when they are busy with Dumbledore's funeral?' one Death Eater spoke up nervously. 'Surely doing it when the old fool is being mourned would result in more success.'

Red eyes glared at the speaker. 'I repeat,' he said in a low dangerous voice. 'We shall attack after three days have passed. Do not make me repeat myself a third time or it will be your last.'

'Y – Yes, my Lord.'

'Dumbledore may be many things; he was a fool and a Mudblood lover, and I am happy to see him dead. But at the same time, I also respect him. For all his faults, he was a great wizard. And I honour that.'

Standing up, he surveyed the others. 'Bellatrix, you have the privilege of organising the attack. Dolohov, coordinate with her and see if you can use this to your advantage. I have business to attend to elsewhere. That is all.'

He swept from the room.

On his way to his chambers, he looked at Malfoy's wand one more time. As much as he hated using another's wand (especially a wand as inferior as this) it was the only solution available to him. All of the wand makers he had met had presented similar solution. Even Gregorovitch, a man who had a reputation rivalling Ollivander, had said the same thing. But he had also come across some more information.

He had heard whispers of a fabled wand of legend. A wand of such immense power that it had made quite a name for itself, being passed down over the years as its various masters had used it to carve a bloody path in history with it. It was called the Death Stick, or the Wand of Destiny.

Voldemort wanted this wand, if it existed. Not only will he use it to destroy the boy, but with such a powerful wand, he would be able to rule over the world.

He had not been able to ask Gregorovitch about the wand yet. But there was nothing stopping him now.

With that resolution, Voldemort stepped out into the balcony of his chambers and lifted off from the ground. Attaining the correct altitude, he headed east, following the tracking charm he had placed on the unsuspecting wand maker.

Severus Snape waited till the other Death Eaters had dispersed till it was just him, the Malfoys and more importantly, Bellatrix Lestrange. Rodolphus had been quick to leave the room, not wanting to be a target for his wife's temper. For he knew, like the rest of the Death Eaters, just by looking into her eyes, that by bringing up that subject might just land them into an early grave.

Severus, on the other hand, was not in that kind of danger. After all, he had managed to curry favour with the Dark Lord enough that should she try something, He would not be pleased with her. And Bellatrix knew that.

Cold black eyes met insane dark eyes across the room. 'What lies did you make up, Snape?'

Smirking, Severus replied coolly. 'Lies? I do not lie, Bellatrix. That was the truth. Dumbledore himself told me this fascinating bit of information.'

Bellatrix's only response was to quicken her breathing as she clenched shaking fists.

Sneering, Snape pressed his advantage. 'Really, Bellatrix, you should thank me.'

'Why?' Narcissa was the one to reply, her voice sharp.

'Because,' he said with his eyes still fixed on Bellatrix. 'I did not tell him that Potter took your entire personal fortune as well. Because that technically makes you like a Weasley, penniless and a blood traitor.'

He mentally cheered when he saw her face pale as a look of unmitigated terror became evident in her eyes. It proved his hunch that Voldemort had given Bellatrix something of immeasurable value. Something so dear to him, that the Dark Lord would be very angry if he found out about its loss.

Albus had told him that there were some objects that held the key to Voldemort's immortality when telling him about the change in the plan. Severus did not know what these objects were, nor did he know how they kept him immortal. Frankly he did not care anyway. Nor did he care about the boy's continued existence. All that mattered that there was a way to defeat the bastard and avenge Lily's death.

'I see that our master had entrusted something to you, just like Lucius here, and that object was of great if not greater importance to him as the diary that Lucius carelessly used. I wonder what the Dark Lord would do if such information were to be made known to him.' He said silkily. 'How angry will he be if he finds out that you failed, just like Lucius here, in keeping it safe?'

'It won't be possible for you to tell him that if I kill you here and now.' Bellatrix said in a low and deadly voice.

'Yes, yes,' Severus drawled, unperturbed. 'Though if you do that, remember that I have kept a backup of that information. Should I die ... well, let's say that he shall know for certain. And imagine what he will do to you and the Malfoys should he find out.'

The family stiffened, panic clearly written on their faces.

'I think I shall take my leave.' Severus said, getting up. 'You clearly need the space to think about how you plan on getting that object back. Remember, you cannot harm Potter. The Dark Lord won't be pleased about that either. Oh whatever shall you do...?'

Trailing off he closed the door, a dark sneer on his face.

Heading towards the grounds, Severus thought of the conversation he had with those four. He relished the thought of the great and all-mighty Malfoys being put in their places. And he took special pleasure in seeing Draco humbled. The boy was too arrogant for his own good.

He wasn't sure if Potter had seized Bellatrix's fortune. Albus wasn't sure about that either, as his primary source of information, the werewolf, did not know. Well, he might as well mention that in an appropriately cryptic message. Hopefully the dunce would know what to do.

Getting the message would be a challenge however.

At least it would distract Bellatrix enough. Severus knew that he had painted a huge target on the Tonks family as the crazed witch would exclusively focus on them in order to get the item, but it was a necessary evil. At least this way, some innocent lives would be saved as Bellatrix would not be able to launch an attack on the populace as a whole. Besides, he was also sure that Nymphadora had taken the necessary precautions.

Disapparating, he headed home. He really needed to work on that message. Not only would he have to surreptitiously alert the morons in the Order, but the Potter brat as well.

Please note that due to a series of events, my beta is unable to proofread the chapters, and will be unable to do so for quite awhile.

33. Vengeance and Blame

Ron and Hermione sat together in a compartment as the Hogwarts Express sped towards London. They had managed to speak to Harry, and he had told them that he was going to focus on finishing Voldemort off and end the war. Hermione knew this meant that he was not going to return to school for his seventh year. And as much as it pained her, she could understand his logic. As dear as her education was to her, ending this war was far more important. So she had pledged to follow him. Ron wasn't far behind her in declaring his intentions.

They had planned on meeting at the Burrow and setting off after Bill and Fleur's marriage. Hermione thought that she had seen a bitter look on Harry's face, and she suspected that he planned on doing this on his own. Well, she wasn't going to let him. He was stuck with the two of them.

It would be like old times. Just the three of them; off on a grand adventure, risking life and limb and facing great evil in order to save the world.

Harry had wisely decided that it would be far safer if he Apparated directly to his relatives' house. So that left the two of them on their own on the train.

But before they could go off, they had a lot of planning to do. Hermione had already got books to help them on their quests from Dumbledore's library, and she was working on putting an undetectable expansion charm on a bag to help make moving around with their luggage easier.

But she had a far more important task: Something that caused her heartache every time she thought about it.

And that was erasing her parents' memories.

In the current climate, and with her status known to many in the Wizarding World, her parents were at great risk. So it would be better for them if she erased all knowledge of her existence from their minds, and for good measure, relocated them somewhere far, far, away.

Australia sounded like a good option.

Harry was in the lobby of Gringotts, having just finished negotiations with the ancient alchemist.

The time spent with Flamel had been quite informative. He finally came to know why both the Potter and Black families had such large tobacco plantations.

Flamel had made it his life's mission to subjugate Muggles. Over the centuries he had tried many different things, only to face defeat thanks to different circumstances and people whom he had derisively termed "Muggle lovers". His latest setback had happened just after the defeat of Grindlewald, thanks largely to the meddling of one Albus Dumbledore. On the side, he had also thought of different ways in which he could exploit the Muggles. The most popular scheme was the tobacco industry. After all, while he could turn metal into gold, he couldn't do it in too grand a scale without risking the destruction of the stone. So a fast way to make money was more than welcome.

'Both Charles Potter and Orion Black agreed to invest in my little venture,' the alchemist said. 'Of course, Potter thought that it was merely a good investment while Black was more in tune with my real goals even if he did not know my name. Neither Potter nor Black knew of the other's involvement.' He admitted. 'I tend to keep the identities of my collaborators a secret from each other. Neither of them knows that I have dealings with the other. It would be rather … counterproductive if that were to happen.'

Harry had to admit that he did not find the man's ambitions objectionable. His experiences with Muggles hadn't been great either.

However, he had some reservations about fully eradicating them. After all, The Queen was decent. She didn't really have to knight him. Although, at the same time, he was unhappy about the precedent Muggle noblemen got as far as place-names were concerned.

So while he signed the contract (after having it fully ratified and approved of by his barrister) Harry did not do so with full enthusiasm.

At least he would get something out of it. Flamel had built up a private army of sorts. Even though it comprised of battle hardened mercenaries and whatnot, the army wasn't enough to topple the militaristic regime in Magical Ghana (as small as that was). But it was enough to help in the killing of one insane and skilled Dark Lord as well as his followers. Harry would begin training with the men in a few days' time.

Snapping out of his daze, Harry walked out of the bank, thinking about his next meeting he would be having with the goblins. He found out that he had been named in Dumbledore's will. While he wanted nothing from the man, Harry still had one question that he knew that the headmaster's account manager could answer.

Harry reached the bank five minutes early on the appointed day. Sitting across the account manager, a goblin named Nagnok, Harry made his request.

'Sir, is it possible for me to see the headmaster's bank statement?'

The goblin looked at him with his eyebrows raised. 'I am afraid to say that Gringotts cannot grant you your request, Lord Potter. It is a serious breach in trust and privacy for us to do so.'

'Not even if the information could shed light onto something that pertains to me?'

The goblin frowned. 'Are you saying that Albus Dumbledore has used his money against you, Lord Potter?'

'Maybe I am, maybe not,' Harry replied evasively.

'Indeed,' the goblin said with a bored expression. 'Well, regardless of that, I will need to see a warrant from the Auror Office first. To get that, you would need to make a formal complaint and even then, the Aurors would need to show incontrovertible evidence to make such a search necessary. After that, only an Auror can see the records. So I am afraid that you are quite out of luck. Unless the Minister has secretly appointed you an Auror with the privilege to do whatever it is that you want…'

Harry flushed. 'I was just asking,' he said defensively.

The goblin only rolled his eyes. 'Of course,' he continued. 'You could just get permission from the vault's current owner.'

'And who is the current owner?'

At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Turning around as the door opened, Harry saw the barman of the Hogshead Inn enter, the sour expression on his face ever-present.

'Mr Dumbledore,' Nagnok greeted. 'My condolences,'

The man in question just grunted, settling down on a chair gracelessly.

'You're the barman at the Hogs Head!' Harry exclaimed.

'Am I?' the man said sardonically. 'Glad you remembered.'

Looking past the grey stringy hair and beard, Harry could see brilliant blue eyes behind the man's dirty glasses. Eyes that looked a lot like Albus Dumbledore's.

A clearing of a throat brought Harry's attention back to the goblin.

'The current holder of the vault would be Mr Dumbledore here.' Nagnok said casually.

'And why would you want to know that, boy?' Aberforth Dumbledore asked suspiciously.

'Well,' Harry said hesitantly. 'I was wondering, that is, I wanted to ask you a question.'

There was a moment's silence.

'Well?' Mr Dumbledore finally said, 'Out with it already, while I'm still alive.'

'Right, I was wondering if I could have a glimpse at your brother's account statement.'

The man looked at him through narrowed eyes. 'And why would that be, Potter?'

'There is something I really need to know,' Harry said in reply. 'Please. At least give me last year's statement.'

Looking at the expression on the teen's face, Aberforth spoke up. 'Very well, however, I want something in return.'

'And what is that?' Harry asked warily.

'All of my brother's possessions that he has set aside in his will. Whatever they are, I want them.'

Harry did not even think. 'Fine,' he shrugged. He didn't want anything of Dumbledore's anyway. He had a sneaking suspicion that there was nothing the headmaster had set aside for him was important, or was Dumbledore's to begin with.

At that moment, a barrister entered the office after knocking.

'Sorry I am late, gentlemen,' he said to the seated occupants. Sitting down, he took out a thin folder that was sealed.

'A minute if you please, Raleigh,' Aberforth said before the barrister could even open the folder. 'The boy and I have come to an agreement. In exchange for having a copy documenting the activity of my brother's account for the past year, Potter has agreed to forfeit all bequests.'

'Actually, I agreed to give you any of your brother's possessions that he had willed to me,' Harry replied.

The barrister shrugged. 'Very well, shall we get on with it then?'

Harry looked at the Nagnok, who took out a ledger and with a snap of his fingers, created a much thinner copy. 'Here you are, my lord.'

Harry took the file and placed it on his lap. 'Thank you.' He then nodded to the solicitor who removed the seal and took out the document.

'Right,' Raleigh said. 'Now, most of the estate, which is the entirety of Albus Dumbledore's private library, his magical instruments, and other personal effects, has been donated to Hogwarts. To you, Aberforth, he has left you his pair of glasses, and the entire monetary contents of his vault. Of course that is whatever is left after the bequests he has made to one Molly, Arthur and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger have been distributed.'

The lawyer scanned the contents of the will. 'Ah, Harry Potter. Professor Dumbledore has left you the Snitch that you caught on your first match, along with that, is a Pensieve and the sword of Godric Gryffindor, which as I am to understand, is now yours, Aberforth.'

'Actually, no,' Harry drawled. He found that channelling the anger out into aggravating Dumbledore's brother was much easier than holding it in. 'See, the Pensieve has been with the Potter family for decades now. I have documentation to prove that Professor Dumbledore borrowed it from my grandfather. Ergo, that possession was not his to give away. As for the Sword of Gryffindor, that is again an artefact that has stayed in the family for generations. While it was thought to be lost, it never left the family's possession. So the Sword and the Pensieve are mine by right. It's a good thing that I secured these objects beforehand, since otherwise I would have to petition to have them returned to me. And that would have taken an unnecessary amount of time.'

'You stole it you mean?' Aberforth accused. 'From my dead brother, no less.'

'Of course not! Don't be ridiculous.' Harry shot back. 'Those items were mine to begin with. You cannot steal your own belongings!'

Smiling at a fuming Aberforth, Harry continued. 'So, anyway, that arguably leaves the Snitch. I have heard about the flesh memories and stuff, so I could argue that it belongs to me, but since the good professor bought it on Hogwarts' behalf, I will concede that it technically belongs to him and the school. So, Mr Dumbledore, you can have that Snitch.'

Aberforth looked at Harry for a long moment. Finally, he barked out a laugh. 'Not bad,' he said. 'My brother has definitely taught you well.'

Harry's only response was to sneer.

Aberforth smirked, knowing that he had hit a nerve. 'How adorable ... You know, if it wasn't for the fact that I loathe children in general, I would probably pinch your cheeks. You look so cute when you scrunch your face up like that.'

Eyes flashing, Harry sent the old man his best withering look, but Aberforth did not break the stare. He was too used to riling his already accomplished older brother up to be intimidated by some little angst ridden, adolescent, pimply (not that the teen in front of him had any) swot. It was all too easy to dismiss the disturbing glow of power in those luminescent eyes. Albus also had that same glow when younger.

'Actually,' the lawyer's words broke through the tension. 'We haven't been able to find that Snitch yet, anyway. Until then, I am afraid you will have to wait, Mr Dumbledore.'

'Oh, I'm in no hurry,' Aberforth replied lightly, a smug grin on his face. Finally breaking the staring match, and looking at the nervous barrister and the wary goblin he said. 'In fact, Lord Potter here can keep it. Heaven knows how much emotional value such an item contains. It's useless to me, anyway.'

'Thanks a lot,' Harry said dryly.

Diagon Alley was functioning normally (or what could be called normal during these times) when a group of six masked forms wearing black robes with hoods suddenly appeared from the entrance to Knockturn Alley.

Their presence was not noticed till the person leading the group raised his wand and sent an explosive spell into the nearest shop.

The spell tore a large crater into the targeted second-hand robe shop, opening its innards up to the street.

Under his mask, the Rabastan Lestrange smirked. The explosion had the attention of the general populace now. After a moment of dead silence, people started running helter-skelter, trying to escape. The Anti-Apparition wards that had been put up long ago to prevent randomly Apparating people from landing right over a poor innocent soul's head ensured that a quick method of egress was not available. Thus, the crowd stampeded towards either the only Apparition Point or (as a most of them had families) to the only Floo Point like a herd of frightened wildebeest.

'Spread out.'

As his fellow Death Eaters followed his orders, Rabastan strode forward, aiming spells at random shops. Their Lord had specifically told them not to kill any of the innocent bystanders. Not out of mercy, as many would think, but because it was a smart thing to do.

If random people were needlessly murdered (especially if they were children) then the populace would become enraged enough to fight back. They would throw aside their fears and rise up en masse to confront them.

They could not allow that! They were outnumbered as it is.

However, if a surgical strike were to be carried out with causing mayhem and destruction of property as the main goals (with deaths being seen as collateral damage) then it would be a completely different story. The "survivors" would see their continued existence as lucky, and the fear towards the Death Eaters would sufficiently increase.

It did not change the fact that Rabastan considered looting, vandalising and burning buildings boring. He much rather preferred to maim, torture and kill. Not for the first time, he wished that he had a wife as lovely and perfect as Bellatrix Black. His brother was truly blessed. To think that they were enjoying themselves right now.

Speaking of which…

The Death Eater grinned when he saw a few wizards fight the flow of the crowd to confront them. While they were forbidden from targeting and murdering random innocent bystanders, crushing any resistance was definitely allowed. It would show the populace their strength. And with the old man gone and one of their main spies showing his true colours, the pathetic Order was useless.

Neutered…

As his underlings (fresh recruits, the lot of them) turned their attention from pillaging, sacking and all of the other general mundane stuff towards their challengers, Rabastan cocked his head as he regarded one of the wizards that were brave enough to come after him.

He recognised the man as one of those that had fought for Dumbledore. In fact, all the challengers there were Order members. What was more, the man was the biggest Blood Traitor there was. His death would be sweet. And to top it all off, there was no Muggle-loving old man to come to the rescue.

What was even more fun was that the Blood Traitor did not know who he was dealing with. An advantage the cloaks and masks afforded them. Had they seen his face, he knew that he would get the most amount of attention. But with his identity unknown, his opponents would be that much more prone to underestimating him.

Bringing his wand up, Rabastan engaged the ginger Blood Traitor.

Harry had just risen from his seat when alarms went off throughout the building. Immediately, the door to the office closed and sealed itself with a squelching sound, becoming indistinguishable from the wall.

'What is –?'

'The Alley is under attack,' Nagnok replied curtly, looking at a gem set into one of the walls. The wards have been activated to prevent the attackers from storming the bank. Until then, gentlemen, I am afraid that we are essentially stuck here.'

'Can't you let us out?' Harry asked in concern. 'There are people out there who need our help!'

'Unfortunately, Lord Potter, there is nothing I can do,' Nagnok replied. 'The wards are under the control of the security staff here. Only they can lift them. I am but an account manager. I can activate the wards from my desk, but I cannot bring them down.' He paused for a moment. 'I am truly sorry. Trust me when I say that I share your sentiments. A lot of business will be lost today. And the thought of hiding from battle does not sit well with me.'

Harry looked at the spot where the door had been. He wondered if he could use his powers to break through.

'I wouldn't try that if I were you,' Aberforth spoke up lightly from where he was seated. As soon as he realised what was happening, he sat himself down on his chair with a thump. 'Those goblin wards are quite well done, and trying to break through them would bring the attention of the security force on you. I don't think you want to fight through one battle here to get to the one raging outside.'

Harry slowly sat back down. As much as he hated to admit it, Nagnok and Dumbledore were right. He also could recognise a lost cause when he saw one. There was simply no way he would be able to break through a ward when he had little to no training in that.

And he wasn't fool enough to try. His days of rushing into a situation without thinking were over.

However, sitting back down was the hardest thing he had done in his life. Harry hated having to wait. He sorely wished that he was out there, fighting the Death Eaters that were likely terrorising innocent people.

Even now, his blood was roaring, as the whispers came back, demanding that he go outside and lay waste to the attackers.

Unable to sit for much longer, he got up and paced around the room, agitatedly looking at the spot where the door was. He could feel his magic twinging, aching to be let out. The feeling that people were in immediate danger was running strongly through him.

'Hard, isn't it,' Aberforth said softly. He looked at Harry appraisingly. 'I can understand. There was a time when I would have been just like you. Albus has chosen wisely. Your heart definitely is in the right place.'

'Please don't ever mention that man in my presence again,' Harry growled.

Aberforth raised his eyebrows. 'Oh, and what has my dear idiot brother done this time?' He recalled the flash of irritation the boy had shown when he had first mentioned his older brother.

Harry laughed bitterly. 'Oh nothing much, he was just the one mainly responsible for screwing up my childhood. And if that wasn't enough, he also decided that he was Geppetto and I was Pinocchio'

Aberforth looked at him strangely. 'He cursed your nose to grow long every time you lied?'

Harry's eye twitched. 'No,' he said lowly. 'What I meant was that he manipulated me. He played me like a puppet master.'

'Ah,' Aberforth rolled his eyes. 'You could have just said that. Anyway, I'm not surprised. That is very typical of him.' Seeing the look on Harry's face he elaborated, 'You think you've had it bad? I grew up with him … and his mother as well. Let me tell you, he takes after my dear old mother. They were so alike … the difference being that I actually liked my mother more.'

'What did he do?'

Aberforth just snorted. 'Like I'm going to tell you!' he said sardonically. 'This isn't a campfire, Potter! Nor is it share-my-life-with-random-strangers day.'

The room lapsed into silence. To distract himself, Harry sat down and went through the files. There he saw all the transactions Albus Dumbledore had made for the financial year of two thousand and three. His blood boiled at the sight of the hard evidence. Ron and Hermione both had sizeable amounts placed in their accounts. He knew it was theirs as he had plucked the vault numbers from Dumbledore's mind. What was most distressing was the entry he had seen made one day before he was supposed to have arrived at the Burrow. It was a transfer of a hundred thousand Galleons to the Weasleys' vault.

Rodolphus Lestrange and his wife (who still considered herself a Black and a Lestrange and no one was going to change that, thank you very much) looked at the property in front of them with open distaste.

Located in the outskirts of Chichester, the house was a modest two storey building with a respectable garden complete with a duck pond.

To Bellatrix and Rodolphus, both of whom had grown up (and were living in) far more affluent environments, the house was considered mediocre, if not an outright hovel.

'Pathetic wards,' one of the three Death Eaters accompanying them said with a sneer on his face. 'Then again, one cannot expect much from a filthy Mudblood.'

'Can you get them down or not?' Bellatrix replied impatiently.

'Of course I can, woman! What do you take me for?'

'Well, then do it while we are still young.' She said through gritted teeth. 'And watch that mouth, boy, or you'll find out the true meaning of pain.'

The Death Eater did not reply. With his wand pointed towards the house, he had a look of intense concentration as he worked on breaking down the wards.

'Done,' he said five minutes later. 'And,' he added smugly, 'They don't even know that!'

Bellatrix sniffed. 'She really has let herself go hasn't she? One would think that with an Auror for a daughter, she would have better protections.'

'Well, she did marry a Mudblood,' Rodolphus said idly as he watched the three Death Eaters casting another bunch of wards designed to block off escape by the normal routes of egress. Knowing that the Ministry had gone back to one of its old tactics of monitoring their instruments for any unusual curses in large Muggle areas for clues about their raids, they also put up a dark ward designed to prevent magical energy from escaping. That would make sure that the detectors do not pick up anything short of a major ritual. Also any charms or spells designed to alert people outside the ward line would not work.

'Done,' the same Death Eater who had disabled the wards said tiredly. The removal and setting up of wards was a draining task.

'Very well,' Bellatrix said curtly. 'Leave us. We shall deal with them.'

Bowing, the three Death Eaters activated their Portkeys and disappeared, leaving the couple alone.

'Well, it's time for a little reunion,' Bellatrix said as she approached the house.

The married couple were only a few scant feet from the front door when it flew open to reveal a large bellied man with blond hair standing there with his wand out.

'You are not welcome here,' Even though his voice trembled, the man's hand was steady.

'Oh my,' Bellatrix said putting up a hand to her heart. She looked at her husband 'Did you hear that?' she said in a mocking voice. 'We are not welcome here!' She cackled loudly. 'Is that any way to greet your sister-in-law? What have your parents taught you?'

Ted Tonks opened his mouth in response to the taunting. That was as far as he got.

The Muggleborn wizard clumsily dove out of the way from the curse Rodolphus had thrown at him unexpectedly at the very last moment. Landing hard on his side, he pointed his wand at the laughing Death Eater and fired off his own retaliatory spell as he scrambled to his feet.

Not expecting any resistance, Rodolphus hastily put up a shield that managed to block the incoming spell. 'Not bad, for a Mudblood.' he mocked.

Bellatrix watched as the two men squared off and then start ferociously duelling. The Mudblood was showing an uncommon skill at defending himself. She had the sneaking suspicion that his daughter had been teaching him some spells.

Ignoring the two, she strolled up the house and entered it.

Twirling her wand, she looked for her sister, absently sneering at the quaint and very Muggle like decorations and furniture.

Suddenly, she spun around, the spell aimed at her back splashing harmlessly against her shield.

'Hello, sis,' Bellatrix said manically. 'Long time no see! In case you didn't notice, our husbands are outside getting better acquainted.'

Andromeda looked exactly like Bellatrix as she sneered at the intruder. Only much better looking as she had not been sent to Azkaban for over a decade. This fact did not escape the narcissistic Death Eater and only served to make her angrier.

'Bellatrix,' Andromeda smirked. 'Or should I say "Blood Traitor"? It isn't funny when the shoe's in the other foot, now is it?'

The smirk soon slipped off Andromeda's face when she realised that she probably should not have said that to Bellatrix Lestrange. Being obsessed with blood purity and the aristocracy of the Black family, calling the insane witch a Blood Traitor was the worst insult. And Bellatrix had quite a temper. And that, consequently, made her a very dangerous fighter.

Andromeda was yanked off her thoughts when an enraged Bellatrix launched her attack with a snarl.

Suddenly, the wards fell and the doorway reappeared.

Dumbledore minor stood up. 'Well, if you don't mind, I have a bar to manage and charms to practise. Good day.' Not waiting for any answer, he strode out of the room.

Not that Harry was bothered. He was hot on the old man's heels, eager to get outside. He half dreaded the damage that he was going to witness.

As he passed through the silver doors of Gringotts with the other patrons who were locked inside, a scene of utter devastation lay before his eyes. A fair number of shops were damaged or destroyed, the carnage radiated out from the entrance of Knockturn Alley with the shops at the far end (near the Leaky Cauldron) having escaped damage.

Walking through the destroyed sections, Harry went through the wreckages, hoping to be of some help.

It was then that the twinging in his magic increased suddenly, causing him to throw out a hand against a wall to prevent himself from falling.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decipher what was going on.

His eyes flew open as he realised the problem.

It was the bond!

Thanks to the wards set up by the Death Eaters, the familial bond between Harry and Andromeda had been dampened to such a point that the head of House Black (who was also still unfamiliar with the bond) had not been able to discern that a family member was in danger. Now, however, judging by the way it was screaming at him, Harry was certain that she was in a lot of trouble.

What was worse was that a very pregnant Nymphadora was staying with her mother. That put her and her baby in danger as well.

Frantically, Harry looked around. The anti-Apparition wards meant that he would have to run towards the Leaky Cauldron to Apparate out.

Unless…

Looking up, he bent his knees and, just as he had done all those days ago the night Dumbledore had met his end, he took off, flying upwards on his own and without any magical vehicle, much to the astonishment of the people in the alley. While most of the spells found in Salazar Slytherin's journals and the journals the Founder had pilfered from Ravenclaw were outdated, there were a few very useful gems scattered around. Like this ability which would have been one of the many ways magical people used to get around before Apparition and Portkeys had Salazar not taken the book away. The speed wasn't anywhere close to a Firebolt, but it was still exhilarating.

Once he had reached a suitable altitude, Harry spun in mid-air and Disapparated.

Reappearing a few inches over the ground outside the house, Harry landed with a crouch. Not wasting any time, he sprinted off towards the house.

As he neared, he heard screaming from the backyard. Flashes of spell-fire coming from the windows in the house indicated that there was a battle going on inside as well.

Making a quick decision, Harry headed off towards the backyard towards the screams. Rounding a corner, he saw a Death Eater standing over Ted Tonks, who was writhing in pain, undoubtedly under the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry's spell was about a hairsbreadth away when the Death Eater took the moment to lean forward, no doubt wanting to taunt his victim further.

Feeling the spell that whizzed by, the dark wizard turned around to face Harry, revealing himself to be Rodolphus Lestrange.

'Well, well, if it isn't Harry Potter,' the Death Eater said with a malicious grin on his face his wand still trained on a panting and gasping Ted Tonks. 'You're here early, so I can only guess that one of our wards has fallen. A pity … I was so looking forward to spending more time with the Mudblood here.'

Still looking at Harry, he casually said, 'Avada Kedavra.'

A jet of green light exploded out of the Death Eater's extended wand and hit Ted Tonks in the chest.

Harry was too far away to intervene and could only watch as the man was casually struck down in front of his eyes.

Laughing, Rodolphus said jeeringly. 'Don't worry, his wife, daughter and unborn grandson will soon join him…'

As if to punctuate his words, a scream rang out from within the house.

Growling, Harry fired off a myriad of spells at the sadistically grinning Death Eater.

The smile slipped from Rodolphus' face when he did not see any visible jets of light that typically mark the coming of a spell. The only indication that a spell had left Potter's wand was the slight rippling of air and the way that the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up.

But Rodolphus wasn't feared by the general wizarding populace for nothing. Diving forward, he dodged the first two spells, springing up with a conjured shield on his offhand ready to meet the third spell.

He grunted as the powerful spell impacted against his round metallic shield with a jarring gong.

'Looks like the old man has taught you a few tricks, boy,' he said as he sidestepped a curse and flung an Avada Kedavra at his opponent.

Jerking away from the killing curse, Harry retaliated with a dark cutting curse he had learnt from his second-hand Potions textbook, grazing Rodolphus' cheek.

Rodolphus snarled, his hand coming up to the affected area. 'So you like to play with the dark arts, eh? Well, I'm glad to oblige.'

With that, he snapped off a wide variety of dark curses at an impressive rate.

However none of his curses even came close to touching Potter as with a sweep of his wand, the boy managed to raise a wall of earth, turning it into stone instantaneously. The barrier was definitely thick as it managed to withstand the barrage of spells that impacted.

Not to be outdone, the Death Eater sent off a blasting curse at the makeshift fortification. It tore through the battered transfigured stone like it was wet paper, blowing the wall up in a spectacular explosion of dust.

The Death Eater sent another blasting curse at the same area as the first, causing another explosion that threw out a large amount of dirt into the air. Waving his wand, he cleared the dust.

Aside from a lot of debris, there was no sign of Potter. Whirling around, he spotted Potter sprinting off towards the house.

'Now, now, we can't have that,' Rodolphus said with a curse aimed at Potter's back.

With a gesture of his left hand, Harry levitated the body of Ted Tonks to intercept the curse. Bringing up his right hand, he banished the corpse towards the Death Eater who was not expecting such a tactic.

Just then, sounds of multiple people Apparating in rang out.

Hearing that, Rodolphus decided on a tactical retreat. Sending a last curse at Potter, he Apparated away. If Bellatrix had any sense, she would have Apparated out after she heard the sounds of battle and approaching reinforcements.

Whirling around, Harry sprinted towards the house.

The drawing room was a mess. Bits of wood and glass were scattered everywhere. The sofa was ripped and upended while scorch marks decorated the walls.

All of this faded into nothingness, however, at the sight of Andromeda Tonks lying near an armchair that was miraculously untouched. The glaze in her wide open eyes, the horrified expression on her mutilated face and the stillness of her body all pointed out that she had passed away. The charred remains of her wand, clenched in her burnt right hand, a testament to the kind of fight that she put up.

Harry closed his eyes in sorrow. He had not known the older woman but had found himself liking her, despite her rather disturbing resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. He was looking forward to getting to know her more over the summer holidays … now … the opportunity was lost to him forever.

The worst was the mutilation. Harry could not bear looking at the marred features. Long slashes dominated most of the face. What little skin that was spared was distorted, which was no doubt work of acid. Harry fervently hoped that she had died before this had happened to her.

Suddenly, he remembered Nymphadora Tonks. Cursing himself for his forgetfulness, he rushed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, constantly scanning his surroundings.

Just as he reached the landing, he heard the front door bang open and voices filter through.

Not heeding those, Harry swiftly made his way down the corridor. Nymphadora's location was made obvious by the door hanging on one of its hinges.

Rushing through, he saw yet another gruesome sight.

The pregnant Auror had put up a fight. However, while she was good, she was hampered by the baby she was carrying, allowing Bellatrix the advantage.

At the same time, all was not lost. Coming closer, Harry could see that she was still breathing. Moaning, the Metamorphmagus shifted her head till her eyes came to rest on Harry.

'H – Harry?' she slurred, raising a bloody hand.

'Don't move, Nymphadora,' Harry said frantically. He was worried (and rightly so) about the dagger that was protruding from the young Auror's belly.

He got a weak smile in return. 'Don't … call me …'

'Nymphadora? Tonks!' Harry shook the unconscious woman. 'Dammit!' Feeling her neck, he could detect a faint pulse. Just then, he heard footsteps approaching his location. Raising his voice, he called out. 'I'm in here! Nymphadora is seriously hurt, come quick!'

Moments later, Bill Weasley burst into the room followed by Fleur and Remus Lupin.

Harry quickly stepped aside as Fleur rushed forward. 'She's still alive,' he said hurriedly to the French witch.

'Oui,' Fleur said in confirmation. 'She needs 'elp, and fast.'

Bill took out his wand and sent off a Patronus. 'Robinson will have some experience,' he explained.

'Who is Robinson?' Harry asked.

'New Order member,' Bill replied. 'He is a Healer.'

Seeing Fleur's hand move towards the dagger, he stopped her. 'Hang on, we don't know if that is cursed or not. Removing it could cause more harm.'

By then a plump brown haired man entered the house. Taking Fleur's place without ceremony, he brought up his wand, scanning the knife with it.

'She needs to be moved to St Mungo's immediately.' He said grimly. 'Along with the stabbing, she has been exposed to some very dangerous curses.' Taking out an object, he tapped it with his wand and clutching the wounded woman's hand, he disappeared.

'Who was behind this attack?' Bill asked in the silence that permeated.

'It was Bellatrix,' Harry spat out. 'Her husband was the one behind Ted Tonks' murder. I came just in time to see Rodolphus kill him. I was too busy fighting him to come to her rescue.' He looked at the spot where Tonks had disappeared sorrowfully. There was a lot of blood everywhere.

'Hey you did the best you could.' Bill said comfortingly. 'Isn't that right, Remus?'

The werewolf was silent for the longest time possible before he said to Harry in a low voice. 'This is your fault.'

Harry's eyes snapped to the werewolf in shock. 'What?'

'This is your fault!' Remus' voice became louder, his grief clouding his judgement. Giving Harry one anger filled glare, he spat. 'Bellatrix wouldn't have attacked them if you hadn't gone and disinherited her!'

'What are you talking about, Remus!' Bill said aghast. 'You can't blame –'

'Oh is that so,' Harry interrupted Bill, his voice dangerously silky as he looked at Remus steadily, his backlit green eyes showing eerily. 'So if I hadn't disinherited her, Bellatrix would not have gone after her sister huh? Tell you what; let's assume that she went after Tonks because of me chucking her out of the family. Where do you think she would have heard that, huh? After all, when I did the disinheriting, there wasn't anybody there but my two account managers. And they all but refused to notify her citing some asinine technical reasons. So that just makes three people in the know.

'Oh wait!' Harry said suddenly an expression of mock epiphany on his face. 'I did tell someone! And that was you! Now I know I haven't said anything to Bellatrix, Merlin knows, I'd rather Avada Kedavra her than tell her anything. So that leaves you … and your wife … and in-laws. Considering that I know that Nymphadora, Andromeda and Ted aren't stupid, I guess that only leaves you.'

'I only told Dumbledore.' Remus growled.

'Oh Dumbledore?' Harry said mockingly. 'You told Dumbledore? Wait isn't he the guy who died recently? Yeah, he was ... he was murdered of all things. And that too by this other person whom he trusted ... What was his name?' he scratched his head. 'Oh yeah,' he snapped his fingers, 'Severus Snape. The guy who was actually working for Voldemort but had everyone, including Dumbledore, fooled that he was a good guy. Dumbledore used to tell Snape a lot of things.' Harry watched as Remus' face went white at the implications.

'Dumbledore definitely would have told Snape.' The werewolf said with growing horror.

'You really love telling Dumbledore a lot of things, don't you, Lupin?' Harry sneered. 'You didn't really have any problems sharing intimate details pertaining to me with the old man. Oh don't give me that look; you know what I am talking about. It isn't as if anybody likes having private things, such as what they hear when near a dementor, being aired to people without their consent! And now, despite me telling you not to tell anyone else, you still went and blabbed! Your tattling has bitten you right in the arse! Oh karma is such a bitch!

'And additionally, you do know that you are talking about Bellatrix Lestrange, don't you? You're telling me that she wouldn't have gone after the sister who turned her back on "tradition"? The same woman who is an embarrassment to her? Oh I know,' he continued mockingly. 'She certainly would not have gone after the woman who married, and had a baby with a werewolf.' He said sneeringly. Fleur gasped at that while Remus rocked back as if struck

'So don't go pointing fingers at me you flea-bitten twat! It's your fault that this has happened, not mine!' Harry was breathing hard at this point.

'OK, everybody just calm down,' Bill interceded. 'It has been a trying day for all of us. Remus, I am sure that Harry did not mean what he said and Harry, I am sure that Remus was –'

Had Harry been in a better mood, he would have let it go, however, with the recent revelations, he wasn't in the best of moods. 'Oh I am just getting started,' he snarled. 'Where the hell were you, eh? Why weren't you at home protecting your pregnant wife and unborn son? After all, my dad was there for me and my mum. And you have the gall to go pointing fingers at other people. At least I got here first! Your own son … I guess I should not be surprised that you didn't bother with me for fourteen years despite me being your best friend's son.'

With a bellow, Remus whipped out his wand sending off a jet of light.

Not bothering with a wand, Harry just slapped the spell away with an open palm. With a gesture of his other hand, he sent the werewolf flying.

'Pathetic,' Harry sneered. 'Some defence teacher you turned out to be.'

Seeming to come to his senses, Harry addressed the room, carefully not meeting anybody's eye. 'Now if you don't mind, I have a hospital I need to visit.' With that, he turned on his heel and disappeared.

Appearing at the reception area at St. Mungo's, Harry marched up to the receptionist. Being directed to the fourth floor, he fairly stomped up the stairs. Sending a Patronus message to his friends informing them about the situation, he collapsed on a seat outside the ward where Healers were working on Tonks.

An interminable time later, he was joined by Bill and Fleur.

'What you said to Remus was very harsh,' Bill said lowly.

'Well, he deserved it,' Harry replied hotly, his anger coming back to him. The gall of the werewolf to go around pointing fingers at Harry when it was his tattling that got them in trouble in the first place.

Bill sighed. 'Well, if you want to know, Remus kind of took off after you left. I don't really know where he is. He hasn't replied to the Patronus message I've sent him.'

Harry only grunted in reply.

'Mate, what's got into you?' Bill finally asked. 'You generally aren't this … mean.'

For a very long moment, Harry did not reply. 'You have no idea,' he finally whispered.

'Try me,' Bill said.

Harry laughed humourlessly. 'You wouldn't believe me. But fine.' He inhaled deeply. 'Remember the night that Dumbledore died? Well, that was the night that I found out that he had been paying Ron and Hermione to be my friends.

Bill was shocked. 'No! That cannot be possible!'

'You think so?' Harry said in a dead voice. 'Well, I happen to have concrete proof.' Whipping out the parchment showing Dumbledore's account statements he showed Bill the appropriate lines. 'Believe me now?'

'How could he do this?' Bill breathed.

'I don't know, and I don't want to know,' Bill could hear the suppressed emotion in Harry's voice. 'I don't want anything to do with them anymore.'

'Dad is going to flip out,' Bill replied. Harry privately doubted it, seeing as Dumbledore was also paying Mr and Mrs Weasley. He debated showing Bill that bit of information as well, but decided against it. He did not want to get in the way of Bill and his parents. Forcing the man to choose between his parents and him was not something Harry was willing to do.

At that moment, more bad news came in the form of a lynx Patronus.

'Arthur Weasley is dead,' the deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt emanated from the ethereal animal. 'He was killed by the Death Eaters in Diagon Alley; we suspect that Rabastan Lestrange did it. I am sorry, Bill.'

If he was undecided then, Harry's mind was definitely made up now. It only took one look at the devastation on Bill's newly scarred face to know that there was no way that he was going to mention his parents' indiscretions.

'Go,' he said simply. 'I'll handle things here … go.'

'Thanks,' Bill said as he got up and slowly made his way out.

Harry sat in utter boredom for the next five minutes. He was joined by Daphne and her father after ten.

Eventually, a Healer came out. 'This is not good,' were his opening words. 'We have managed to stabilize her, but with her pregnancy ... She is fading. The spells she was exposed to, especially in her condition … and if you factor in the stabbing … well, I'm afraid that there isn't much time left for her.'

'But … but there must be something you can do for her,' Harry finally said after a long moment of silence.

The Healer sighed tiredly. 'I am afraid not,' he finally said. 'All we can do is make the last few moments of her life comfortable.'

'What about the baby?' Daphne finally asked.

'Unfortunately, the foetus is too premature to survive outside the womb. Had it been a month, or even a week later, something could be done.' The Healer put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. 'I am truly sorry.'

The Healer turned around. Halfway through, he stopped.

'What is it?' Cyrus Greengrass asked.

Scratching the sparse hair on his chin, the Healer hesitantly replied. 'There is something that can be done. But it's a risky business.'

'What is it?' Harry asked.

'Well, we can take the baby out and possibly have it grow the rest of the way in vitro. But that procedure is very experimental. See the thing is to take out the womb, the entire womb from the mother out and with a few adjustments and tweaking, help the foetus grow outside the mother. We have no idea what this will do to the baby. After all, human trials haven't started yet. And I really shouldn't be telling you about this –'

'Okay,'

The Healer stuttered to a halt. 'Pardon?' he asked Harry.

'Fine,' Harry repeated. 'At this point there isn't much to lose.'

'Well, we still need permission from a close relation.' The Healer responded.

'Like a husband or next of kin?' Seeing the Healer nod, Harry continued. 'Good, then that would be me. I have been nominated as the baby's godfather, and additionally, Andromeda, Nymphadora's mother is … was my father's cousin, and I am also the head of the Black family which was the family Andromeda was born into. Remus Lupin, the baby's father and the woman's husband is … unavailable at the moment, so that leaves me.'

Seeing the Healer cock a sceptical eyebrow, Harry made an impatient noise and flashed his ring. 'Now if you don't mind.'

The Healer seemed to regain his wits at the sight of the ring. 'Of – of course, my lord ... However, I will warn you that this is a very risky procedure and the chances of survival are very slim.' Seeing Harry nod, he continued. 'Very well then, I shall go and alert the staff. We do not have much time.' With that, he hurried away.

Amelia Bones waited just inside the threshold of the doorway. Giving a quick curtsey after she was announced (even though it was to the other occupant's back) she entered the opulent room. Stopping just short of the sofa placed in the centre, she did not sit, as the other occupant of the room, a woman far more important than her, was also standing.

'Your Majesty.'

The Queen spent a long moment gazing out into the gardens surrounding Buckingham palace in silence before turning around.

As the monarch approached her, Amelia couldn't help but reflect that the woman was being her normal aloof self. She had been quite surprised at the relative warmth with which The Queen had greeted and spoken to the boy.

Taking the offered hand and dropping into a small curtsey again, Amelia took her place at the sofa opposite The Queen after the sovereign sat down. Idly, she reflected that it perhaps was the Christmas season that had put the royal in such a jovial mood.

They spent a few long minutes discussing the state of Magical Britain and Voldemort's activities before The Queen touched on a rather prickly subject. Picking up a folder that was innocuously lying on the table and opening it, the monarch looked at her. 'Recently, we have come across some information regarding one Petunia and Vernon Dursley.'

Amelia nodded, grimacing internally. A representative of a private investigation team hired by Gringotts had recently contacted her old department regarding these Muggles. Among accusations of embezzlement and misappropriation of funds were the more serious allegations of mistreatment and abuse of a child, namely one Harry Potter. All of these were backed up by very solid evidence.

'Good,' The Queen paused for a long moment, perusing the contents of the file. 'I understand that our Magical realm does not have any legislation against child abuse. I never thought to ask before, but why is that?'

The Minister of Magic exhaled. 'In our society, children are not mistreated or abused. This is a combination of our history and heritage, due to which children are considered to be precious, and magic. When a child is born, magic tends to build a sort of empathic bond between the magical parents and their child. Because of these two factors, while a parent can and may be strict or harsh when disciplining their magical child, they will not, cannot, abuse said child. Especially to this level,' she indicated the file with disgust. Having her own copy of the same file, Amelia knew about its contents. 'So, there aren't any instances of child abuse seen in the Wizarding World. And therefore, there really hasn't been any cause for legislation.'

Silence fell over the room as Amelia waited for the monarch to reply. 'A handy thing, magic,' The Queen finally said.

'As I am sure you know, Minister, Lord Potter isn't the first Magical child living in the non-magical realm to be abused by his guardians. Have you made the arrest already?'

'A team is moving in as we speak, ma'am.'

Seeing raised eyebrows, Amelia inhaled deeply, and continued in a grave tone. 'Your Majesty, trust me when I say that this is the best that I could do. Keeping a lid on this hard enough as it is. You know how popular and famous the boy is. Most of the British magical population holds the boy in high regard because of what he caused all those years ago. And a good majority of those happen to be in the Auror office. Keeping this under wraps is an exercise in futility. It will only be a matter of time before the whole country hears about this. What is worse is that the other side can and will use this to their advantage.'

The Queen replied after a long moment of silence. 'This is a prickly situation indeed. Normally I would have been quite displeased with the way your people have handled this situation, as such incidences are taken care of by the non-magical courts as they are non-magical citizens.' She paused for another moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts. 'Very well, then. This is what is going to happen. You shall hand over the woman and the son. The woman shall be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, and the boy's future shall be investigated and appropriately decided. You may do whatever it is you wish to do with the man. Is that agreeable to you?'

Amelia nodded. 'This will not go down well with most of the population. However, I do understand that this is being done to keep the peace between the magical and Muggle population. I will try and contain the situation. I fear, however, that Mr Dursley is going to end up with the short end of the stick in the bargain.'

'It cannot be helped,' The Queen said standing. 'It has to be done, and one cannot really sympathise with him.'

A brown haired young man waited just inside the Muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

He stiffened when a blond haired figure brushed past him. Warily looking at the back of the blond, he started following the man, careful not to lose him in the Muggle crowd, and trying not to show his discomfort at the unfamiliarity of it all.

They both entered a café.

As soon as the two of them were sitting in a booth at the back of the establishment, the blond man flicked his wand, erecting privacy wards.

'Nice disguise, Draco,' the man said as he tucked his wand back inside. 'I never expected you to go Muggle so well. If it wasn't for the signal, I would not have recognised you.'

Draco scowled. 'Thanks,' he said grudgingly. 'You aren't too bad yourself, Harry. Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, how about we get down to what it is that you called me here for?' he looked at his surroundings with disgust.

Harry reached into an inner pocket and extracted a bundle. 'If you say so.'

Yes, it has been a long time, but Real Life got in the way ... I sorely wish that I had all the time in the world to devote to this story! Anyway, before you think that this is on it's way towards being over, well, it isn't ... I plan on taking this beyond Voldemort. I have some really good plans.

Finally, part of the reason why this took so long is because I was busy with the last chapter of Black Vengeance ... now that that is over ... I can spend more time here!

Read and review!

(P.s. this chapter is unbetaed.)

34. Prophecy fulfilled

Voldemort reclined back in his seat at the head of the dining table of Malfoy Manor. Looking around him, he gazed at the assembled Death Eaters.

'Dolohov,'

The man in question understood the rest of the sentence even though it went unspoken. 'We have our people in place, My Lord. Our victims are fully under their control, and in position. Bones won't know what hit her when they attack. We only await your word.'

Voldemort was silent for a long moment, his eyes staring at nothing.

'Macnair,'

The bald moustachioed wizard stood up. 'The Gurg has consented to sending five more giants for our cause. With the current administration in power, it will take them three weeks at the most to enter Britain.'

'That should be no problem soon,' Voldemort said dismissively, now looking at the ceiling. 'And what news do you have for me, Severus?'

'Burbage has proven to be a source of information, My Lord. It seems that Potter holds the wards to the school.'

There was a lot of murmuring at this. Surprised, Voldemort looked at Snape. 'Potter?' he said with a hint of incredulity colouring his voice.

'Yes, it appears that Dumbledore trusted the boy a lot. Apparently his last act before he was ambushed was to hand over the wards to the boy. Also,' Snape hesitated. He had a good feeling that the Dark Lord was not going to like this information.

'What is it, Severus?' Voldemort spoke out silkily his red eyes narrowing.

'I do not know of the veracity of this bit of information, but according to the Blood Traitor teacher …' Snape paused. 'Potter holds the title of Lord Slytherin.'

It took a moment for the collective to register what the greasy haired man had said. Muted cries of surprise rang throughout the room.

'He what?' Voldemort whispered dangerously.

The sounds of saliva being swallowed broke the silence that followed as the assembled Death Eaters collectively gulped. Snape in particular wondered for a fleeting moment if he had done the smart thing in revealing this information.

But Voldemort did nothing. 'Call for the food,' he finally said, waving a negligent hand at Lucius.

As the food appeared, the Death Eaters heaved a unanimous sigh of relief. The Dark Lord wasn't about to fly into a violent explosion of temper … yet.

As he filled his plate, Voldemort absently noticed that Draco was quite distracted. Now that he thought about it, the boy had spent the entire meeting just looking down, hidden away between his parents. Voldemort scoffed. The boy was quite a weakling, unlike Potter.

Now there was a person with spirit. While he hated the boy with the burning fires of a thousand suns, Voldemort had to hand it over to the lad. He had the guts to stand up to him. Potter reminded him of himself when he was younger. If only he could win the boy over…

'We shall take care of Potter shortly.' Voldemort finally said. 'Severus, what have you found out on that front?'

Snape swallowed. 'The boy is still living at his relatives' home despite their arrest. The Order plans on moving him in two days, a week before his birthday.'

Voldemort watched idly as Rodolphus Lestrange contested Severus' information. Rodolphus was of the opinion that there was no way that the boy was staying there. Potter had apparently duelled with the veteran Death Eater and while the older man had escaped unscathed, something had unsettled him. It looked like a private meeting was in order to sort out what it was.

'Enough,' the softly spoken word was enough to quell the debate. 'I have a feeling that Severus might be right. If he is, then the boy and I will have our final meeting.' Voldemort allowed a small smile to play on his face. 'I sincerely hope that Severus is right, because I confess myself to eagerly anticipating this meeting. Should he be wrong … well, I will be quite disappointed.'

Lucius Malfoy II was nervous has he sat down at his dining room. This was the night that would either seal his fate for liberate him. His son had approached him a few days back with quite an interesting tale.

Apparently Draco had made an alliance with Potter over the school year. In exchange for the dark haired boy's help in Draco's task, Draco would aid Potter in bringing down the master.

Lucius couldn't help but feel proud of his son. For years, as he watched his son grow up, he had despaired over the future of the Malfoy line. Draco was openly arrogant and had become a loud-mouthed braggart, using his father's name liberally to get his way or to cow his enemies. That was not how a Malfoy acted.

A Malfoy was sly, a Malfoy was cunning. A Malfoy sidled up to the person in power and reaped the benefits. At the same time, a Malfoy would keep his options open so that when the tide turned, they would shift their allegiances so fast that nobody would ever doubt that the family was against them in the first place.

Their fickle loyalty was how they had stayed rich for so long ever since Armand Malfoy had landed in Britain along with William the Conqueror. It was that same trait that had everyone convinced that they had been for the separation of wizards and Muggles from the start, despite their initial opposition to the Statute of Secrecy. Lucius could very well remember the story of how one of his ancestors, his namesake, had nearly won the hand of the Muggle Queen Elizabeth I. Had the rest of the population known of this, as well as their business dealings with Muggles, the Malfoys' reputation would be ruined.

However, Draco was not like a typical Malfoy. The boy's Black heritage proved to be stronger. He was quick to anger and slow to forgive. Unfortunately, Draco also lacked the cunning and tact that the Blacks were reputed for.

But all those doubts had been erased this past year. Draco had grown. The ingenious way in which he had ingratiated himself to Potter while at the same time ensuring that his loyalty to the Dark Lord could not be called into question was inspiring.

But it also proved that Potter was no simpleton. The boy's use of the Unbreakable Vow to ensure Draco's silence till permission was given was quite interesting. This, coupled with how the boy had tricked him into unconditionally releasing his personal elf, showed Lucius that the Boy Who Lived possessed quite a bit of cunning.

However, it still did not change the fact that they were going up against the most powerful and terrible Dark Lord in modern history. While he could claim that he and Draco had purposefully led Potter here to his doom, should the Dark Lord emerge victorious, there was no telling how the Dark Lord would react to this news.

Lucius would have had more loyalty towards the Dark Lord and would have possibly informed his master, preferably now, as he sat at the table watching Snape and Macnair bicker, but he desisted. Service under the Dark Lord had become onerous of late. More so after the wizard had found out about the destruction of his old diary and the role Lucius had played in its destruction.

The Dark Lord's wrath was something that Lucius was glad to not experience as he had been captured and imprisoned by Dumbledore's people. However, the man had shown how cruel and devious he could be by marking Draco as a Death Eater, giving his only son a nigh impossible task and basically sealing his fate. The family would be better off without the maniac. He had sworn, the minute he had first laid eyes on his new born son, to protect Draco. No matter how spoiled his boy had become, Lucius still loved him. So he said nothing, and only observed, his expression carefully controlled, as his son discreetly took a mirror out, whispered a few words and put it back in.

Harry tucked his mirror inside his robes. Making some last minute adjustments to his basilisk hide armour, he turned to look at the leader of Flamel's little private army. Over the centuries, the immortal had secretly kept a bunch of hired hands to help carry out certain tasks. The group had no name, and the only people who knew the identities of the soldiers were their teammates.

The rough looking man, who went by the name of "Joe", tapped his ear, activating a useful device invented by the amaranthine alchemist. Thanks to a combination of the Protean Charm and a listening spell, the small discs of rubber that each member, including Harry, had in their ears could be used to communicate.

'Can everyone hear me?' Even though Harry did not understand the explanation given to him (something about bone conduction), he knew that to get a message across, all one had to do was tap the disc once and speak in a normal voice. And the person speaking need not lower his voice thanks to the silencing spell contained in the rune etched cloth covering the lower half of their faces.

Getting an audial confirmation from each one of the members assembled there, the leader continued, his voice heard by everyone despite the room itself being silent.

'We all know the plan. It's standard operating procedure: Burst inside and take out as many of those dark robed twats. If anyone inside is unarmed or not a threat, incapacitate them. If they have a wand or are otherwise armed (and I don't care if it's a bleedin' butter knife or knitting needle they are holding) incapacitate or kill, you got that?' Seeing nods all around, he continued. 'Good, you lot,' he pointed at a group, 'Are on extermination duty, as you know. There's a dirty great snake snooping around here and you have the easy job of killing it. Do it as quickly as you can. As for the rest of you, you know the drill: keep the kid alive, avoid the Dark Tosser and let the boy handle him.'

Seeing the team nod one final time, the leader said, 'Let's move out.'

Draco had been quite helpful. In their first meeting after Dumbledore's death in Muggle London, the blond had given him a map of the house and property, detailing where the Death Eaters were most likely to be as well as pointing out the secret passages leading to the house. He had especially marked the dining room, the place Voldemort generally held his meetings.

Harry had worked intensely with members of Flamel's private army for two weeks before deciding to make their move. Draco had also mentioned a major meeting that the Dark Lord would definitely be attending on this day.

Upon receiving a prearranged signal, Draco lowered the wards surrounding the manor for five minutes, giving them the opportunity to sneak in. Bursting out of the secret entrance, the party of twelve surprised the lone guard they had encountered. Harry had immediately identified the man as a certain traitorous friend of his father's. The Stunning spell had hit the coward before he could do more than open his mouth.

Stepping over the downed man, Harry casually shot off a bone breaker to each of the man's limbs, taking vicious glee in doing so. Even if the spell wore off, there was nowhere for Peter to go. Not after Harry had summoned and destroyed the man's wand.

'There are people in here,' a team member commented. Looking inside through a small window set in the door, Harry could see dishevelled forms within the darkened cellar.

One of the wizards, who Harry recognised as Florean Fortescue in the wand light, staggered to his feet as the door opened. 'Thank Merlin,' he rasped.

One of the soldiers came into the cell holding a bag. 'I found four wands on that Death Eater.' He extracted the items in question. The magical prisoners, two wizards and two witches immediately stepped forward to claim their magical foci.

'Find your way out of here through the passage,' Harry said, lowering his cloth, causing the prisoner's eyes to widen in recognition as he gave Mr Fortescue a Portkey. 'This will see you to safety. We would love to help, but we have a mission.' The grim look he gave to the door leading to the house proper was all that Florean needed to understand what the boy was talking about.

'Thank you, boy,' Florean said as he limped out of the dark cellar, helped along by two of the other prisoners. 'If you make it out of here alive, I promise you a lifetime worth of free ice cream at my shop.'

The prisoners slowly staggered and limped out towards safety, helped along by two of the soldiers.

'What about the Muggles?'

'What about them?' the leader asked, giving a sidelong glance at Harry.

Harry was silent as he took his time readjusting the cloth over his face. 'I don't see anything.' He finally said as he turned around and walked out. The Minister had told him the previous day about what had happened to Petunia and Dudley Dursley. To know that two of the three of his childhood tormentors were going to be free and be able to live relatively normal lives, thanks to the Muggle Queen, made him angry. The worst bit was that Petunia would only get seven years (which was the maximum sentence meted out in cases of child abuse) while Dudley would be put in foster care till he reached eighteen. This convinced him that the Muggles would always look out for each other, no matter what. So why should he look out for them? Let the Muggles handle these prisoners.

Joe smirked underneath his cloth as he and the rest left the room, ignoring the feeble pleas of the Muggles. Closing the door and casting a silencing charm on it to block any sound from escaping, he turned to the rest. 'Well it isn't exactly our duty to save anybody. It certainly isn't written in our contract.'

'Right, enough dallying, let's get a move on.' He flexed his gauntlet.

Harry was quite impressed with the item resting on the offhand of every one of Flamel's army. A prototype, again, developed by the alchemist, the gauntlet was made of a special alloy of gold. Reaching up to the elbow, it was etched in runes to contain two spells: the shielding charm, and the cutting charm. Making a fist with the gauntlet would trigger the first spell while a slashing motion would release the second. The number of spells it could hold was limited, however.

In addition to that, the fingers ended in wicked sharp claws. This, along with the reinforced nature of the metal made it a devastating weapon for close combat. A spring loaded retractable blade attached on the back of the wrist added extra reach for stabbing.

Harry refused those, stating that he was more comfortable with dual casting. He never mentioned to Flamel that both his arms were magical foci, meaning that he could theoretically cast spells with both hands.

However, he had not yet perfected the art of casting without a wand, still dependant on the movements to get a spell out. It was a weakness, he knew, but there wasn't enough time, and progress was too slow. Not that it mattered. He could probably pick up a stick on the ground (or anything resembling a stick) and continue if he lost his "wands".

Ascending the steep stairs, they stopped at a landing where there was another shallower staircase to the right ending at a wooden doorway. Here, half of them went further up, towards the drawing room, in search of Nagini. The other half, with Harry, went right towards what they knew were the kitchens.

Standing to one side of the door, Joe cast a spell with his wand, rendering the door transparent to the intruders. The spell revealed a host of Death Eaters sitting around a large rough table, feasting.

Taking a moment to memorise their positions, the hardened warriors blasted the door open, diving through the smoke and using the confusion to dispatch the Death Eaters.

Harry hung back. While he would love to join in on the fight, Flamel had advised against it. The alchemist had made quite a valid point: it would not do for Harry to become injured before he had to face Voldemort.

But staying out of the fight did not mean that he had to be useless. Drawing his wands and lowering the cloth, Harry started chanting an incantation in Parseltongue which was more like a rhyme.

'Death to life,

Life to slaughter

Arise, arise beasts of the forests

Arise, arise beasts of the fields

Forget your natures and become the wolf

To kill a wolf'

At once, all the meat that was set on the table came to life. The birds staggered up on bony legs while the centrepiece, a large boar, spit out the apple in its mouth as its crackling legs took its weight once more.

The dead creatures then fell upon the Death Eaters, using bones taken from their own bodies as weapons.

Harry watched with interest as a Death Eater was stabbed in the neck by two blackened ribs wielded by a pair of roasted chicken. The Parseltongue spells he had picked up from Slytherin's journals were archaic and long winded, but they were undeniably powerful. It would have taken many applications of modern animation charms to get such complex movement from inanimate objects.

The fight lasted a few minutes, the Death Eaters, despite their superior numbers, were caught unawares twice over, giving the intruders the edge. Two had been incapacitated, four were captured and the rest were dead.

'Not bad, Potter,' one of the soldiers, going by the name of Teagen said as he looked at the animated food. 'I see you still have some surprises up your sleeve. Though I think I am going to be vegetarian for a couple of weeks.' He grimaced as a headless grilled quail waddled by.

'If you don't mind,' Joe growled as he and the rest approached the door. 'There still is work to do.'

Voldemort was about to put a forkful of food into his mouth when he heard the noises coming from the kitchens.

Narrowing his red eyes, he and the other Death Eaters slowly turned to look at the door leading towards the room. With the exception of the Malfoys, everybody's hand now gripped a wand as they all got onto their feet.

The sounds of what was unmistakably a battle were now accompanied by screams of terror which were almost immediately cut off.

In the silence that followed, Voldemort jerked his head towards the door and said in a low voice, 'Selwyn.'

Keeping his wand steady, the Death Eater made his way forward. As he neared the door, Voldemort and the others raised their wands in preparation as they moved away from the table and got into a loose formation. Nobody noticed the Malfoys inching towards the back.

Selwyn was inches away from the door when it blew open, smacking him to the side.

Voldemort's eyes widened in surprise as a group of hooded masked individuals dove into the room, firing spells left and right. A part of him was intrigued at the golden gauntlets that allowed them to fire off spells. Though from what he observed as his Death Eaters fought them, the spells were limited.

Red eyes narrowing, Voldemort caressed his yew wand. He had a very strong suspicion about how these people had managed to gain entrance. He cast his eyes at the blond family standing behind him as he casually raised a shield that blocked a stray curse. Then again, if the Malfoys truly had a hand in this, the invading force would have been much larger.

However, these people were pretty good. Despite being outnumbered two to one, they were holding their ground. What was worse was that with the fall of Rabastan, they had already lost two of their number while their mysterious opponents (who clearly were not Aurors) had yet to suffer one.

With a flick of his wand, Voldemort brought a heavy platter in the path of an Avada Kedavra headed towards Bellatrix's back. With a flourish of his wand, he prepared to join the battle.

He was prevented from engaging the person who tried to kill Bellatrix when with a clatter of hooves, a roast boar followed by a myriad of dead birds rushed in and attacked him.

Snarling, Voldemort banished the swine into a wall with a blasting hex. Turning to the fowl without a pause he let loose another banisher. He was surprised when one of his targets nimbly dodged aside and threw a rib towards him. This was not normal behaviour for animated objects.

Voldemort gracefully stepped out of the way of the flying bone fragment. With eyes aglow and a snarl, he incinerated the birds with a whip of fire. This had gone on long enough. Turning to his Death Eaters his chilling voice rang out, 'Capture them, I want to find out how they got in.' A bone breaker fired from his wand caught one of the assailants in the arm, downing the man and making the Death Eaters fight with more vigour.

Just then the combatants froze as they heard a hissing noise come from the kitchens. Voldemort turned in surprise: That was Parseltongue.

'Men cut down in your prime,

Men cut down before your time…'

The sight of a curse flying towards him prevented him from hearing the rest. Whipping around, Voldemort fired off an organ liquefying curse at the person who dared attack him. He snarled when his opponent gracefully moved out of the way, causing the curse to splash against the far wall.

A hail of curses brought Voldemort's attention back to the entrance to the kitchen. Five figures rushed into the fray, throwing curse after curse at the Death Eaters, bolstering the ranks of the invading force and levelling the playing field. The newcomers fought as if they were unafraid of dying.

It did not take long for all involved to notice the unseeing eyes, the pale skin or the gaping wounds that did not bleed to realise that these reinforcements were actually dead.

'What magic is this?' Voldemort exclaimed as he banished one of the corpses only for it to spring back and resume cursing, jets of light pouring out of his wand. These were not Inferi. Inferi did not move this quickly, and it took days to create one. And most importantly, Inferi could not cast spells. Even if those spells were weak.

Harry stared from his position just inside the kitchens. He knew that this level of necromancy would not be possible if it weren't for the Hallows. Using Parseltongue to power the spell only felt right.

'Hello, Tom.'

Voldemort turned towards the voice. There, framed by the now destroyed doorway stood Harry Potter.

'Potter,' he breathed.

'I hope you like the little army I raised,' Harry said with a sweeping gesture of his hand indicating the dead Death Eaters fighting their live counterparts. 'It was a little spell my ancestor, Salazar Slytherin had learnt long ago. As you can see, he kept that a secret, passing it down only to his heirs. I hope you aren't afraid of them.'

Voldemort's eye twitched. He had searched high and low for Parseltongue spells, but was unsuccessful. Those who knew them had made sure to avoid him, denying him the knowledge. That Potter had such knowledge (no matter how archaic) infuriated him. This was his legacy! Salazar was his ancestor!

He also did not want to admit to the thrill of fear that ran through him upon seeing the walking dead. How had the boy known of his secret terror? He had taken pains to ensure no one knew about it.

Unless…

'The old man has been teaching you about me, has he?' Voldemort laughed coldly. Swiftly turning around, he obliterated the two corpses that were sneaking up on him. Whirling back, he said. 'Let's see how much he has really taught you.' With that, he slashed his wand at the boy.

The only indication of the spell's passing was the rippling of air in front of Voldemort as a wave of destructive magic designed to cleave living things in twain headed towards his lone opponent. The beauty of the curse was that physical shields could not stop it while it took a lot of power to get a decent enough magical shield that could withstand the curse.

Harry leapt towards the high ceiling, sailing over Voldemort and raining down curses as he passed by.

Voldemort sidestepped, blocked, and parried the curses with ease, turning around to face his opponent with a bored expression on his face. The spells were quite elementary, after all.

He was therefore quite surprised at the high powered piercing curse that rocketed out of the boy's wand with speed.

Calling up an advanced shield, Voldemort deflected the curse away from him, causing the spell to punch a hole right through the body of one of Potter's allies.

'Not bad, Harry,' Voldemort said mockingly. 'The old man has taught you quite a bit. Too bad he couldn't teach you one important thing; that I am immortal!'

Harry inexplicably smiled. 'Would you be talking about those Horcruxes of yours? Or was it something else?'

'What?' Voldemort snapped, shocked. Another thrill of fear passed through him. The old man had somehow discovered another of his secrets. Though he had a good feeling as to how that happened. His burning red eyes went straight to Lucius Malfoy who was cowering with his wife and son.

'You and I are going to have a discussion after I put down this whelp, Lucius.' Voldemort said malevolently. Turning back to Harry he snarled. 'So you found out the secret of my immortality, Potter. So what of it? I doubt you know how far I have gone, or where those items are, much less what they are.' Subtly, he palmed his yew wand for the wand he had taken from Lucius.

'Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, and Ravenclaw's diadem,' Harry rattled off quickly as he conjured a slab of marble to intercept Voldemort's Avada Kedavra. 'Yeah, I got them all.' Absently, he transformed the debris of his conjured shield into metallic discs that took the brunt of the volley of curses that followed. 'I destroyed your school diary in my second year, and Dumbledore finished off the ring.'

Angered by this revelation, Voldemort fired off three Killing Curses in succession. The first two, thanks to a small twist he had designed, curved so that they would intercept at an angle, while the third one flew straight towards his target. The end effect was that Harry was now facing a phalanx of green death.

Unperturbed, Harry flourished both wands, bringing his offhand to bear for the first time. The trio of Killing Curses were shortly stopped in their tracks as three objects absorbed their energy.

Voldemort was brought to his knees as a high pitched wailing filled the room. The other combatants stopped their fighting, distracted by the sound. However the reanimated corpses (of which two were remaining) were not affected. The pair set upon a distracted Bellatrix Lestrange, pouncing on her and physically clawing at her, their magical cores drained. Voldemort's best Death Eater died of a broken neck, her eyes clawed out. The remaining combatants, Rodolphus and Dolohov soon followed her as their lone opponent, Joe, sent an Avada Kedavra at the former while slashing at the latter with his gauntlet.

Turning to the battlefield, Joe set about securing his surroundings, reinforcing the stunning and binding spells on the lone captured Death Eater after which he started searching for any surviving colleagues. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed Potter and the Dark Lord. He was too drained and too weak to help the boy out. Potter was on his own for now. Besides, with the way the battle was escalating, he had to find cover. Quickly dragging those that he found were even remotely alive to a corner, he placed an odd device on the ground and called up a transparent heavy duty bunker shield. Hopefully this would tide them over for now.

Harry shook his head, ridding himself of the last of the ringing in his ears. 'I was about to tell you that I had not destroyed those yet.' He rasped. 'Anyway, it looks like you took care of that for me, so thanks!' Seeing that his opponent was still staring at the destroyed objects in shock, he brought both his wands to bear and fired off two Sectumsempra curses simultaneously.

But Voldemort was not beaten yet. With a twitch of his hand, the huge table, that was inexplicably still untouched, flew to intercept the curses. With a roar of rage, Voldemort banished the splinters towards Harry, followed by a blasting curse.

Harry quickly transfigured the splinters to cotton and bunched them together to form another slab of marble to intercept the blasting curse. However, the spell was too powerful. The shockwave from the resulting explosion as the stone intercepted the curse was enough to send Harry flying. Landing on the hard ground with a thump, he rolled to a stop near the doors that lead out of the room, groaning.

Voldemort approached his fallen enemy, snapping one of the wands on his way. He loomed over his downed opponent.

He laughed as Potter weakly raised his arm, his fingers reaching out. Slowly, he brought Lucius' wand to bear. He would show the boy mercy, all right.

Suddenly, bolts of lightning shot out from Potter's fingers, catching Voldemort by surprise. The Dark Lord screamed in pain as he was blown off his feet.

Shooting up to his feet in a burst of energy, Harry stalked forward. A rapidly sealing cut on his forehead had bled enough to give his face a ghastly look. Feeling the stiffness in his body fading, he silently thanked himself for having the presence of mind to do all those body enhancing rituals. Clenching his fists, he knew in a sudden burst of clarity when he had blasted Voldemort with the lightning that he could do without the crutch of those fake wands. Suddenly everything just seemed to click.

Voldemort was quick to get to his feet. The side of his face was mildly sunburnt, the rapidly fading pink patch standing out starkly against the otherwise pale skin. The wand that he was holding, however, was completely destroyed. Only a blackened stump remained.

Voldemort dropped the useless shard looking at his blackened fingers in disgust. He did not feel much pain there, as his body was already healing itself, the broken fingers rearranging and the skin renewing.

'I see that you have done some rituals, Harry,' he said as he saw his younger nemesis healing at a similarly accelerated rate. 'Though I also notice that they are the pathetic weaker versions of what I used. You don't heal as fast as I do.' Smirking and drawing out his yew wand, Voldemort spread his arms and said loudly. 'I have done far more than you, than anyone! You might have destroyed five of my Horcruxes, but so what? You don't have them all! I cannot be killed, Harry. And once I am done with you, I will – urk'

He was interrupted by a sharp pain as he felt cold steel slide into his back. Snarling in anger, Voldemort whirled around, backhanding the backstabber. His eyes flashed an unholy red as he beheld the crumpled form of Draco Malfoy. 'You dare,' he whispered in a deadly voice. 'You are just like your traitorous father!' He shot off a Cruciatus Curse, 'And just as incompetent! I should have ended the Malfoy line a long time back!' With that he whipped his wand forward and shot off a Killing Curse.

Draco just watched the curse approach as if in slow motion. He knew there was no way that he could move out in time. He closed his eyes, waiting for the curse to claim his life…

…Only to open them when he heard the sound of a body falling. Looking around, he saw the lifeless eyes of his father. Lucius Malfoy, in one desperate act to save his son and heir, had sacrificed himself.

Harry watched the scene in shock and disbelief. It was true that he had given Draco the knife when he had met the blond, but he did not expect something so brazen. Nor had he expected Lucius to do something so … self-sacrificing.

The Dark Lord snorted as he looked at the fallen form of his greatest benefactor and principle financer. 'Looks like slippery Lucius does have some Hufflepuff qualities,' turning back to Draco, he said. 'Time to die'

Before Voldemort could utter the first syllable of the Killing Curse, Harry had recovered enough to blast the Dark Lord away.

Voldemort twisted and landed on his feet. Yanking the stiletto out, he looked at the handle. 'The Potter Crest?' he gave both the boys a hate-filled glare. 'I see that you two have been working together. No matter,' discarding the dagger carelessly, he brought his wand to bear and shot off a multitude of curses.

Draco could only watch as the two wizards fought each other. The Dark Lord was a terrible sight to behold as he cast curse after curse in rapid succession. Blocking, parrying and dodging at the same time with ease and lightning speed. He made Bellatrix Lestrange looked like a slow moving, graceless first-year.

Harry was no slouch either. Mainly using transfiguration and charms, he weaved magic around him as if he was born to do so. What was even more surprising was that he was not using any wands. Jets of colourless magic were rippling away from his palms to Voldemort who, regardless, was quick to recover from the display of wandless magic.

The magic they were throwing around flew at a furious space. Curses were blocked in a trice by slabs of stone. The shards that formed were transformed to spinning knives in a breath. Those, in turn, were burnt into a cinder in the next breath. The flames then took on demonic shapes only to be doused by water which was frozen into an icicle and returned.

The combatants did not stay still either. Both of them were moving, using their environment to their advantage. Wood, stone and even corpses and viscera were used in the furious battle that waged.

All Draco could do was find shelter and cower with his mother.

But in the end, Harry's inexperience was to be his undoing. Voldemort crowed in triumph as he caught the boy with a banishing charm. Capitalising on this, he sent a Cruciatus curse at the boy.

'How many times do I have to tell you, boy,' he said as he walked to the panting figure in front of him. 'I. Cannot. Be. Killed!' He punctuated each word with a short dose of the Cruciatus as he neared.

Finally thinking that he had the boy beaten, he leaned closer. He first planned on ripping the secrets the boy knew from his mind. To be able to cast such awesome Parseltongue spells (and that too without the aid of a wand) was great power. The knowledge would make him unbeatable. Then he would make the boy scream. Finally, after that, he would kill the brat.

Suddenly, with a burst of energy, Harry stabbed him in the stomach with another stiletto. He then fired off a wandless banishing curse with his other hand point blank, sending Voldemort flying.

Both the adversaries staggered to their feet. Their enhanced bodies sported numerous bruises and cuts, the accelerated healing being unable to cope with the rigours of battle.

Voldemort yanked the stiletto out. 'Another one?' he asked derisively. 'At the very least you could select a more suitable weapon instead of something that frail women use.' He tossed the dagger aside contemptuously with a sneer.

'True,' Harry replied, panting holding his side. 'But those were the only ones I could find with a hollow blade and goblin made. After all, nothing else,' he paused to take a breath, 'can withstand the effects of basilisk venom.' He gave Voldemort a blood stained grin of victory.

As if on cue, Voldemort could feel a burning sensation emanate from his back where he had first been stabbed. He staggered with the pain. His body had been working overtime to rid him of the venom while he had been embroiled in battle. The second stabbing had only increased the venom inside.

'Still,' he said straightening up and ignoring the pain in his stomach. 'That makes no difference. I cannot be killed, Potter!' The two combatants then started circling around, waiting for the other to make the next move.

Draco looked on with a hint of despair. Despite everything Potter had said, the Dark Lord seemed quite certain of his immortality. He glanced at Harry, wondering what his reluctant ally had to say.

The look of confusion on his face was mirrored by the one on the Dark Lord's face as they both wondered why the black haired wizard had stopped and stuck a finger into his ear.

A big grin slowly spread across Harry's face. As he started moving again (unconsciously mirrored by the Dark Lord) he said. 'So you cannot be killed, is it? Despite the fact that I destroyed five of your Horcruxes, you still are quite confident that you are immortal. That means … there is one more left! It's the snake, Nagini, isn't it?'

Seeing the look of dread momentarily steal across the Dark Lord's face, Harry laughed. 'Oh don't worry, I won't be rushing off to hunt it down …' he paused with a knowing grin on his face. 'After all, you didn't think I came in with just five people, did you?'

This time it was Voldemort who stopped in shock. 'Oh yeah,' Harry gloated. 'A party of six highly trained wizards has been tracking down your snake all this time while the six of us have been keeping you and yours busy. And as of five minutes ago, Nagini has ceased to exist.'

With a sense of disbelief, Voldemort saw Harry's eyes shift towards the now broken windows looking outside to the grounds. Turning his gaze there, he saw, with a stab of horror, six more of the masked invaders holding the head of his familiar aloft.

'You're mortal now!'

Voldemort was barely able to dodge the curse that accompanied the shout. Getting back to his feet, he reassessed his situation. The chances of victory now were slim. His Horcruxes were destroyed, his inner circle was gone and Potter was quite able to take him on with magic that was unknown to him. He had to regroup. Heal. Find more willing allies, make more precautions (he realised now that depending solely on Horcruxes was foolish) and then … he would come back. For he was Voldemort!

Draco watched with a mixture of disbelief, dread and joy as the Dark Lord sprinted towards the windows and took to the skies his robes flapping behind him as he neared the ward-line.

Disbelief soon took over the other two feelings when Harry followed suit, shedding his outer robe and summoning the goblin made knives on the way. The Dark Lord knowing something as awesome as being able to fly unassisted was one thing. That his schoolmate could do the same was staggering. Slowly getting to his feet, he moved towards the open windows, followed by his mother and the last standing member of Potter's incursion group.

They couldn't see much of the aerial battle, except for the flashes of spell fire that lit up the night sky.

Harry was quick to catch up to Voldemort. While the Dark Wizard had a head start, Harry was a natural flyer, knowing all about the nuances of flight thanks to the frequent times he had gone on his broom. He also was not hampered by the drag caused by bulky flapping robes as his armour was form fitting.

Grabbing an ankle, Harry swung the surprised older man down and away from the boundary of the anti-apparition set up around the grounds.

Voldemort's eyes widened in further surprise when he saw that Potter too could fly. Cornered, he brought his wand to bear and started firing curses indiscriminately, hoping to drive the boy far enough away so that he could escape. Hopefully he would be able to kill the brat. To conserve his waning strength, he stuck with cutting and banishing curses.

However Harry was not content to just hover. Twirling, twisting and diving, he dodged each and every curse while making sure that Voldemort could not escape. Using skills that proved why he was the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a hundred years and the best the school had to offer, he circled Voldemort, slashing at the dark wizard with the poisoned knives as he passed the man by leaving behind an ever growing number of small cuts and nicks.

Soon, the poison from number of scratches and cuts dealt by the poisoned blades became too much for Voldemort to fight off. Defeated, the Dark Lord's body started shutting down, much to his terror.

Seeing his enemy sufficiently weakened, Harry went in for the kill. With both his hands, he cast a powerful banisher, putting as much of his strength as possible.

The force of the spell was enough to blast both the combatants in opposite directions.

Draco and the other spectators scattered as they noticed a figure come hurtling towards them.

The body impacted the ground forcefully, sending out a large plume of dust.

Moments later, the dust was cleared away by someone, revealing the figure of Harry Potter slowly descending. It was then that they realised that Voldemort was finally defeated.

'The venom finally got to him,' Harry said. 'He's one tough old sod.'

Slowly walking to the fallen form, Harry made a slashing gesture, separating the head from the rest of the body. Once that was done, the Boy Who Lived (and whatever ridiculous title the populace were sure to give him now) fainted next to the headless corpse of the darkest dark lord in modern history.

All over the nation, Death Eaters were looking in shock at their Dark Marks which, unlike before, did not fade, but disappeared altogether. People started snapping out of trances and the Imperius curses placed on many Ministry Officials fell.

By the time the sun rose a few hours later. Word had spread: Voldemort was defeated. He met his match once more at the hands of Harry Potter. And this time he was gone for good.

Vernon Dursley was rudely jerked awake. One look at his surroundings gave credence to the living nightmare he found himself in.

It had been two whole weeks since those people had come barging into their house. The three of them did not have much of a chance to react before they were shackled and taken to an unknown place.

From there, they were separated. Vernon had yet to see his wife and son. All he could see were the unfriendly faces of his guards who sneered at him, refusing to use his name and instead just calling him…

'On your feet, Muggle,'

Vernon did not even need the threat of a spell as the wand was enough to get him scrambling up. The last time he had tried being defiant had led to some painful results.

He had spent a whole hour demanding a lawyer and his release before the guard poked a wand at him, freezing him in place. He had felt each and every moment of the next few hours locked in position as the red-robed man leered at him.

As soon as Vernon was on his feet, the guard walked through the barred door. This unnerved him. It was not normal. Nothing about this place was normal.

As soon as the jailer got near him, Vernon saw his chance, lunging forward, he brought his hands up to strangle the man. Hopefully he would be able to wrest the wand away from the freak and escape this hellhole. He was a subject of the crown, dammit! These freaks had no right to hold him.

Suddenly, he crumpled in pain as agony passed from his thumbs up to the rest of his body.

His victim-to-be smirked. 'You thought those rings on your thumbs were pretty baubles, did you? Stupid Muggle,' He flicked his wand, sending Vernon flying into the fall behind him. 'Unruly aren't we? It looks like someone needs to be taught a lesson.' Turning around, he shouted out, 'Oi, we have a hostile one on our hands.'

Immediately, two more people walked through the door. 'Hey, inne the one who loves beating up children?' one of the newcomers, a large brutish man said.

'Yeah, this is the scumbag that's Potter's "Uncle".' His companion, a man with sharp birdlike features replied.

'Not Harry Potter?' Seeing nods, the large man became visibly angry. 'Harry Potter saved a lot of families twice over by takin' care of You Know Who. I don' like it when people mess with 'im.'

'Nor do I,' the birdlike man said. 'Thanks to Potter, my uncle's not forced to become a murderer.'

'Let's teach him a lesson, eh lads?'

The next few moments of Vernon's life were painful as he was hexed, cursed and jinxed.

'I think this is enough for now, lads.' The jailer said idly. He flicked his wand once, making the curse marks fade. 'Now that we've prettied you up, let's go, Muggle. You have a trial to attend to.' Another flick and Vernon was helplessly floating along as the three wizards followed him.

'Too bad we couldn't get one of the dementors to escort him. Where are they anyway?' The birdlike man asked.

'I dunno,' the large man shrugged. 'Oh well, this is you,' with that he and the birdlike man opened a large door.

Vernon looked around in terror as he was lead into a packed dungeon. He struggled as he was lead to a menacing chair with shackles and chains wrapped around it. As soon as he was thrown onto the chair, the restraints bound him down tightly.

'Sorry for the delay, my lords and ladies,' his guard said. 'But he was being uncooperative.'

Vernon did not hear that, he was too busy looking around him. He could not believe the number of that kind of people. A section of people to his left were writing on funny paper with funny feather pens. Reporters, he guessed. Another section to his right were whispering and gossiping as they looked at him now and then. What concerned him most was the group of people in front of him. They, like everybody else, were wearing those dresses. Only theirs were all a shade of purple that indicated a uniform. Vernon knew there and then that these were the judges.

Each and every one of those people was giving him a look of deepest loathing. A look he generally directed at the boy.

And speaking of which…

Vernon's piggy eyes narrowed as he saw the face of his hated wife's sister's son sitting there with a superior look on his face. Now bound and shackled to the wooden chair, sleep deprived, scared and terrified, he fell back to something familiar to him.

'Boy,' he growled. 'Come down and release me this instant or there will be hell to pay.'

In retrospect, Vernon realised that he should not have said that in such an environment.

'I would like the court to record the fact that the Muggle has threatened my person publicly as evidence for my case.' The boy said, standing up.

'Duly noted, Lord Potter,' a wizened old man said.

The form of address was enough to shock Vernon into silence.

'Vernon Dursley,' a strong-jawed wizard said. 'You have been charged with the following: Slander of a member of an Ancient and Noble House, Theft from an Ancient and Noble House, long term torture and multiple counts of attempted murder of a wizarding child, and, as of now, attacking an Auror and contempt of court.'

'You can't do this!' Vernon shouted out. 'I am a subject of The Crown! I know my rights! I want my lawyer!'

The entire dungeon, including the purple robed wizards laughed. Those seated on his right openly jeered, making rude gestures and calling him names he could only understand due to the tone that accompanied it.

'Order, order!' the speaker said, issuing bangs from his wand. As soon as the room had been quietened, he continued. 'We too are subjects of The Crown, Muggle.' He gestured behind him where everybody could see the Royal Cypher. 'And as it is one of ours that you have wronged, we get to try you. Her Majesty knows this and approves.

'Now as I was saying. The Court has seen the evidence and will be making its decision.'

Desperate, Vernon spoke out once more. 'Don't I get a say in this? What about my side of the story? I plead not guilty! I demand a fair trial!'

He shrank back as the gathering got vocally upset at his statement.

'Filthy Muggle!'

'How dare you make demands?'

'Off with his head!'

'Have him Kissed!'

'The Wizengamot would have heard your side of the story, Muggle,' the speaker said after he managed to quieten the room, 'If you had bothered to come in time. However, you are too late. Due to your lateness, you have been tried in absentia. Now the Wizengamot shall make its decision. Those in favour of conviction!' he roared.

Each and every one of the purple robed wizards raised a hand.

'Those in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?'

No hand went up. It was clear that the collective was unanimous in their decision.

'Vernon Dursley, you are hereby sentenced to spending the rest of your life in Azkaban. Your property and assets will be seized to pay the fines owed to the court and repay the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. Dementors, take him.'

At this, the members of the public got to their feet and started clapping. The sound along with the looks on their faces leant an ominous air to the whole scene.

Vernon strained against his restraints as he shouted 'No!' over and over again. His protests were cut off by the entrance of the dementors.

The magic of the restraints that had been placed on him were enough to allow the hapless Muggle to see what was coming for him. He shrank back in terror as he spied the pair of monsters coming towards him.

Unbidden, the incident from two years back came to his mind. Petunia had spoken about them. They were the prison guards. The prison he was going to be spending the rest of his life in.

Nicholas Flamel smirked from his place in the Wizengamot. The conviction of the Muggle was the best thing to have happened to him and his cause. He knew that his fellow wizards and witches, no matter how tolerant and kind they were, had little regard for Muggles. It did not take much to turn them all into hating the Muggle. Especially with the proof that had been shown to them. While Vernon Dursley was not the first Muggle to be tried by the Wizengamot, he was the first to have been tried for such heinous crimes. Even Voldemort and the Death Eaters were not accused of that! Sure, they had killed children, but one could never accuse them of such crimes.

Nicholas could capitalise on this … He definitely should capitalise on this…

Severus Snape waited in the interrogation room for his visitor. Convincing the Aurors and the Minister to arrange this meeting was not easy. He hoped that this meeting turned out well.

The door opened to admit the person who he wanted to meet.

'Listen up, Potter,' Snape began without waiting for the boy to speak. 'I need your help. I have been a spy for Dumbledore. It was on his orders that I had to kill him.'

'Really?'

'Yes,' Severus replied impatiently. 'I have proof as well.' He really did not want it to come down to this. But that surprise attack had caught him off guard. Even though he had tried to escape, he and (he later found out) Wormtail had been caught. They, along with Selwyn were the only Death Eater survivors.

'Where is it, then?'

'I was getting to it,' Severus growled at the impertinent brat. 'It's located in my house in Spinner's End. There is a secret room behind the bookshelf. Now, since you obviously aren't too smart, let me spell out what we are going to do. Once my innocence is proven, I will be more than happy to never see your face again, Potter.' He gave the boy his best look of loathing.

'OK,' the boy replied after a long moment.

So Snape began to outline his plan. If things worked out the way he intended them to, he would be considered a hero. Then he could move into the place Albus had set aside for him and spend the rest of his life in peace as the world spoke of his name with the same reverence as they did of Potter.

'The accused wishes the use of Veritaserum.'

'Does he?' The court buzzed in the background as the Chief Warlock raised his eyebrows. 'I presume that the accused understands the risks involved? His statement under the serum will be considered to be the ultimate piece of evidence that shall decide his fate. Furthermore, he will not be able to retract whatever he said under the influence of the potion.'

'He does, Chief Warlock. The accused is confident that the serum will help uncover facts about the incident that will show the murder of Professor Dumbledore in a new light'

'Very well, does the accused wish to nominate his interrogator or shall the Wizengamot decide?'

'The accused wishes to nominate Harry Potter.'

The court murmured again. Not only had Snape called a boy who had yet to claim his seat, but he had also called the one person who had destroyed Voldemort and was rumoured to be very close to Dumbledore.

Snape calmly let the Auror administer three drops of the potion. The proof Dumbledore had arranged for him, regrettably, was inadmissible in the Wizengamot. But it was enough to convince the child. Dumbledore had assured him that Potter would do what was right, and that the prestige and influence he would wield would be enough to keep the former Potions master out of jail.

As soon as the last drop of the liquid disappeared in the man's throat, Harry began.

'What is your name?'

'Severus Tobias Snape.'

'Did you bear the Dark Mark?'

'Yes,'

'Did you serve the Dark Wizard known as Lord Voldemort at any point in your life?'

'Yes,'

'Were you the one who cast the Avada Kedavra at the wizard known as Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?'

'Yes,'

'And this was after you heard that the Dark Lord Voldemort had ordered the death of the aforementioned wizard?'

'Yes,'

The court erupted in anger. Dumbledore clearly had many supporters and well-wishers in the long time he had lived.

'Describe that night for me,'

'I was in my study when Professor Filius Flitwick came rushing in squeaking about Death Eaters and an attack on Hogwarts.' Even though Snape's tone was monotonous, Harry could see a glimmer of worry in his eyes. 'Knowing what this meant, I asked him about the whereabouts of the attack. As soon as it was revealed to me that it was in the Astronomy Tower, I immediately Stunned Filius and headed there. I slipped past the combatants and crossed a ward that had been erected to prevent anyone not bearing the Dark Mark from entering. Ascending the stairs, I burst in on the Carrow siblings, Rowle, Yaxley, Greyback and Draco Malfoy surrounding Professor Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked into my eyes and pleaded … he begged me to end his life. It was then that I cast the Killing Curse.' Harry thought he could see a look of triumph on the former Potions Professor. Too bad that the man did not know that Harry had seen the whole thing.

'Did Professor Dumbledore specifically say those words out loud?'

'No,'

'Oh? What did he say then?'

The worry had settled back in. 'He said, "Severus … please…".'

'No further questions, Chief Warlock.'

The Chief Warlock signalled the Auror to lead the drugged prisoner off to a holding cell to recover from the effects of the Serum.

While Veritaserum compelled a person to tell the truth, it had a major limitation that the questioner had to be very specific in wording his questions. Should they be worded differently, the answer could be far from the actual truth. It was one of the reasons that the potion was not used in trials without the explicit permission of the accused. It was also a fact that Severus Snape realised just as the last of the effects of the potion wore off.

'You foolish boy,' he snarled as soon as he saw Potter outside the bars of his cell. 'Did you not understand the proof that you found in my house? How moronic are you, boy?'

Harry waited patiently for Snape to finish and the Auror guard to leave. Once the door closed, he waved his hand and set up a few privacy wards. Turning to the greasy man, he smirked. 'What evidence would that be?'

'The phials of memory hidden in my house!' the older man snarled, gripping the bars of the cell, and pressing his face between them in his anger. It looked like he was trying to get out so that he could strangle the person on the other side.

'Yeah,' Harry drawled. 'While those memories are compelling, I, and well, you also, have to factor in the following: One, you are an Occlumens, and therefore, capable of modifying those memories. Two, even if those memories aren't yours, there is no proof that they were Albus Dumbledore's either. So they aren't really admissible as evidence. Especially seeing as I destroyed them. Three, even if I agree with that evidence, and I actually do, it does not necessarily mean that I will help you.' He smiled mockingly at the expression on the man's face. 'After all that crap you put me through for all those years, you really think that I would actually help keep you out of prison or prove your "innocence"? That I would, despite knowing the truth, help you?' He snorted. 'Wow, those potion fumes must have really messed with your mind!' Harry gave the man a look of deepest loathing.

'What, nothing to say?' he mocked. 'I am yet to hear one single comparison about how much like my father I am. That generally is your backup material when you don't have any other way to insult me. Kneazle got your tongue?'

As Severus looked at the young man standing in front of him an epiphany hit him.

'No,' he finally said. 'No, you aren't like your father at all.'

Looking at surprised expression of the person standing opposite him, he was even surer of his statement. 'James Potter would not have done something so … underhanded. He would not have been as petty and vengeful as …' he paused. In his mind, the words 'as me' rang out. For the first time, Snape realised that he was wrong to have held onto the past and been so petty and vengeful. That judging Harry Potter based on his memories of James Potter who was long dead, and vocally comparing the son to a dead man, sometimes even going to the extent of taunting and belittling that memory, was not right.

Severus closed his eyes as he realised that his behaviour towards Harry Potter could be compared to the way James Potter and friends had treated him. Only, the way he had acted was far worse, as at least James was his peer. Harry, on the other hand, was his student, and a child.

He was worse than a bully. Even if the lad was spoiled and an attention seeking brat, it did not excuse his behaviour.

'As petty and vengeful as you, you mean?' Harry's voice broke through his internal musing. Looking up, Severus could see a mocking smile on the teenager's face. 'Well, I did learn from the best, after all. You know, I once heard that the way an adult in a position of authority, like a parent or teacher, acts in front of a child, shapes how that individual will behave as an adult. I would suppose I would be more like James Potter, if he was alive. But unfortunately, he isn't. And we have you to thank for that. So … thanks for giving Voldemort the prophecy and causing the death of my parents.'

Severus was shocked. How had the boy learnt that bit of news? Albus would not have told him. He knew that much. Whatever his faults, the old man always kept the promises that he made.

'Oh and one more thing.' Brought back to the present, Severus focussed on the boy who was now at the entrance of the cellblock. 'The reason I originally came down to talk to you. The Wizengamot has made their decision. It's the Dementor's Kiss for you. You will be notified of the execution date an hour in advance. I believe that is the custom. Goodbye Snape! This is the last I'll see your greasy, hook nosed face again! And I always wanted to tell you this,' Harry took a deep breath. 'You are a petty, vengeful, immature, creepy, greasy, selfish, greedy, foul-mouthed, incompetent, imbecilic, biased, overgrown, bitter child in a man's body, forever trapped in the memories of your past and incapable of growing up.' Taking another breath, Harry continued in a normal tone. 'I hope you enjoy the first and only kiss that you will be getting in your life. Goodbye!'

Severus only heard the door slamming shut behind Harry Potter as he sank down on the floor.

Here we go! This is not the last chapter, by the way, not by a long shot.

If the whole gauntlet idea seems familiar to you, then yes, I took it from the story The King Who Lived written by Cap Red. However, the idea used by that author was given by me long ago, when I was betaing for her. She has given me credit in an Author's note. So there really has been no copying here. It was my idea originally.

Did you know that you can type in shorthand in Word? For example, you can type "Voldy" and Word will change it to "Voldemort" after you press the spacebar...

Anyway, read and review!

35. Family

Lightning suddenly flashed outside the floor to ceiling windows, calling her attention to the weather outside. There were hints of a summer storm coming. A soft knock at the door interrupted her reverie.

'Lord Potter to see you, ma'am,'

Turning around, she watched as the door opened fully to admit the young man she had last seen two months back. The teenager had changed in that short amount of time. He seemed to fill the room with his presence, power just oozing off him. His eyes, once a vibrant green, were now even brighter, positively glowing with power. The effect was rather eerie.

'I have a question to ask your majesty, if I may be so forward?' He said after protocol was followed, and pleasantries exchanged.

'And what would that be, Lord Potter?'

'Is there any reason for the increased security? I must admit to finding myself rather disconcerted at seeing so many men facing me with assault rifles and wands in hand as one of them demanded that I hand my wand in.'

The Queen's mouth gave an imperceptible twitch. 'It is a security measure, Lord Potter. The first time you came to see me you were accompanied by the Minister of Magic. This is the first time we are alone. As you have yet to swear fealty to us, we must make sure that no harm comes to our person.

'But not to worry,' she continued. 'It is something all wizards and witches who meet us are subject to. Those who hold a post in the magical government, or have been inducted into the Order of Merlin, or have a seat in your court or your legislative body are exempt from this as they have already made their oath of fealty.

'Now, to business: I have received a recommendation from the Minister of Magic for your induction to the Order of Merlin, first class for your services towards the country by destroying the terrorist styling himself as Lord Voldemort. I would very much like to hear your account of how that came to be.'

Harry repeated the cover story that he and Draco had concocted for Madam Bones. The story was that Draco had been captured by Severus Snape and the other Death Eaters who had invaded Hogwarts under the orders of Voldemort, as he was not happy with Lucius Malfoy. The Dark Lord, meanwhile, had placed Narcissa Malfoy under the Imperius and made Malfoy Manor his base of operations. During his time of capture, Draco had somehow managed to get a message out to Harry. Harry then visited Malfoy Manor with a group of other wizards where they had taken care of Voldemort.

The official, legal line was that Harry and a few friends had gone to visit his cousin, Draco Malfoy, where they "stumbled" across Voldemort. What happened in Malfoy Manor was described as self-defence, neatly taking care of any dissenters who would have tried to say anything.

As Joe, the leader of Flamel's private army had died shortly after the battle with Voldemort, the only real witness to Harry's impressive display of wandless magic was Draco. Narcissa had been too traumatised with Lucius to notice and the other survivors who had gone hunting for Nagini only saw Harry burst out into the sky in chase of Voldemort.

Harry really had no qualms about modifying the blonde's memory. They may no longer be enemies, but that didn't change the fact that Draco was a git.

Besides, doing that made sure that no one knew anything about his abilities.

'That was very impressive, Lord Potter,' the Queen said after Harry finished recounting his story. 'You do lead an interesting life.'

'I wouldn't mind if the rest of the days of my life end up being dull and boring,' Harry said with a modest smile.

The Queen smiled blandly. 'The ceremony for the Order of Merlin will be held shortly. Someone from my office shall tell you the details later. You have studied the oath that you are to give, I trust?' Seeing Harry nod, she stood up, swiftly followed by the young man.

'Very well, I shall see you a few days later.' She extended her hand imperiously.

Gently clasping it and inclining his head, Harry took a step backward.

Not bothering to see him leave, the Queen turned around and headed towards her desk.

'Your majesty?' The Queen turned around to face him upon hearing his hesitant voice.

'Yes?'

'Imperio,'

The group of Seventh-Years stood in front of the Hogwarts Express, a nostalgic smile on their faces.

'This will be the last time we will be boarding the train to start a year at school,' Neville commented wistfully.

The others made noises of agreement.

'Don't forget that we just finished the last summer holidays as well,' Susan added.

Harry softly sighed in contentment. After Voldemort had been defeated, the holidays had been everything short of idyllic. All he could remember of those days was the bright sunshine, Daphne, moving into the renovated Potter ancestral home, Daphne, Neville's spectacular seventeenth birthday bash, Daphne, his equally spectacular birthday bash (organised with the help of his future in-laws), and finally, Daphne.

It was reminiscent of the summers he had before second and third years. The beginning was lousy, but the ending was brilliant.

Of course, that wasn't to say that the latter half of the summer had been perfect. There had been some stressful situations. Nymphadora's unborn baby had been one of them.

Knowing that she was going to die anyway, the Healers had focussed all their energies into saving the baby. To that end, upon getting the necessary approval from Harry, they all but gutted the dying woman. Carefully, they removed the entire womb, with the baby inside, and with quite a few necessary spells and other magical devices, transferred the womb to an artificial construct.

Harry remembered those days as he periodically visited the hospital. The magical machine looked like a huge flesh coloured egg with veins protruding out from it. If he looked closely, he could see the baby's face through the translucent membrane. He also had to donate quite a bit of blood and magic to stabilise the baby. The demand was only halved thanks to Daphne volunteering.

The Healers were expecting the baby to be properly developed by the twentieth of September. It was a month longer than had the baby been conceived through natural means, but they did not want to take any chances. This would be the first human born through such a method. To add to that, the baby was the godson of the person who had defeated Lord Voldemort. Failure, in the Healers' minds, was not an option.

Harry had initially wanted to name the boy "Teddy" to honour the mother as he knew that it was what Nymphadora wanted to name the child. However, Daphne (who had taken quite a shine to the baby) put her foot down. She contended that a person who was born from such unique circumstances did not deserve what she called "a painfully common name".

The young couple had a small fight over it before Daphne's mother, Alana, suggested a compromise.

And so, in about twenty days, the world would welcome Lord Edmund Harry Potter-Black, the Baron Black (informally referred to as Teddy).

The other thing that was slightly tense was Bill's wedding to Fleur which took place on the twenty-ninth of July. The new head of the Weasley clan had practically bullied Harry into coming with promises that he would keep certain members of the family out of Harry's way. Harry had eventually acquiesced, but had insisted on coming after downing some Polyjuice Potion.

The one bright thing about that wedding (other than the anonymity and the happiness he felt at seeing two people he deeply cared about joined in matrimony) was that he had found out that Charlie, Fred and George were just as confused and horrified that their mother and younger brother would do something like that. They too had no idea about the money, and the twins had actually sworn magical oaths to that effect. It had gone a long way in helping Harry overcome the melancholy he felt.

He did not know, nor care, about Percy, since he had not bothered to attend the wedding.

Bill had immediately left for Egypt with his new wife, now that there were no pressing issues to keep him in Britain. Harry suspected that it was also partly because he wanted to be as far away from his mother. The last he knew, Fred and George too had been keeping minimal contact with the woman lately. He could not help but feel a pang of guilt for being the cause of the split in the family.

'Oi, get a move on,' Neville's voice cut through Harry's thoughts. 'We wouldn't want the Head Boy missing the train, now would we?' he said with a smirk.

'Oh, right, coming.' Harry said, hurrying towards the train.

Harry sat back in the prefect's compartment once he was done with the meeting. He and the Head Girl, Padma Patil, had met Professor McGonagall over the summer to discuss their responsibilities and the responsibilities of the new prefects as well as the House Captains. That is, after he had handed control of the wards back to her.

Getting up, he followed Neville out of the Prefect's compartment. Neville's appointment had been one of the many changes the new headmistress had hinted at. It had seemed that the former transfiguration teacher had had enough of Weasley's shenanigans. It was to the point that she was seriously considering having Seamus Finnigan as the replacement. Upon Harry's recommendation, she appointed Neville Longbottom.

On the way to his friends, Harry stopped to check in on Mark Evans.

Mark's situation had been one other black spot in Harry's post-Voldemort summer.

Harry had been quite surprised to receive an owl from one of the first-years in his house, one fine day in the middle of August.

Opening the letter and going through its contents, Harry felt a surge of anger. It appeared that Mark's parents had decided (over the course of Mark's first year) that the boy not be allowed to learn more of this "Magic nonsense".

Mark had not been happy about their decision and had vehemently argued against it. It had come to such a point that his parents had restricted him to his room for the summer, locking away his magical things, and preventing him from contacting any of his friends from the school as they set about forcing him to pursue a "normal" education.

Unable to contact anybody in the magical world, Mark finally caught a break when he managed to telephone one of his half-blood friends, Callan.

Callan had subsequently sent an owl to the one person he felt would be able to help out here. Harry was close enough in age to the younger boy, and also a hero according to the paper.

Harry was grimly surprised to find himself Apparating to Little Whinging. He had wondered why Mark Evans was so familiar. Who would have thought that he was the same Mark Evans that he had saved from Dudley and his gang the previous summer?

He had appeared just in time, too. As he approached the house, he could hear shouting. This was shortly followed by screaming and the sound of someone falling down stairs.

Not bothering to knock, Harry blew the door open. Inside, the first thing he saw was the twelve year old moaning at the foot of the stairs.

Harry saw red. That scene reminded him of his time with the Dursleys. Keeping his cool, he got the boy out of the house and out of earshot. Then he turned to the parents, a murderous look in his eerily glowing backlit eyes.

He did not bother to listen to the terrified Muggles' protests as he forced them to sign over all rights to him in a handwritten letter. He had heard the same excuses from the Dursleys every time someone asked questions. Once he had their consent, he erased their memories and magically induced them to pack their bags and leave the country.

Smiling at the Second-Year and his friends, Harry moved on. The incident with the Evans family had given him an idea to present to Nicholas while also reminding him what he had discussed with Draco Malfoy all those months back when their rivalry had died. It had also given him a goal to pursue in the long run. His work wasn't done yet. The magical world still was not safe. It fell to him to ensure its safety. Voldemort was only one problem. The root cause was still out there.

Harry did not know it, and he never would, but Dumbledore's intentions for him, when he reluctantly started to implement his plans to prepare the boy for the inevitable final confrontation with Voldemort had led to this situation. Harry Potter would not have come to this point if it was not for Dumbledore.

It did not take long for the returning students to realise the changes that had taken place thanks to Professor McGonagall's appointment as headmaster.

Her replacement, a Professor Olivia Tannen was just as strict and demanding as she was (though some would call the new teacher stricter than McGonagall) while the new Head of Gryffindor House was the young and beautiful Aurora Sinistra, the Astronomy professor. The Slytherins had Horace Slughorn as their Head of House. The unanimous opinion (even in Slytherin house, surprisingly) was that he was better than Snape.

But that was nothing compared to the fact that Sybil Trelawney was no longer teaching at Hogwarts. The running theory among the upper years (who were quite familiar with the strict new headmistress' disdain for the subject and the teacher) was that Trelawney's sacking was the first thing Professor McGonagall had seen to the minute her post was confirmed.

Surprisingly, it did not mean an end to Divination classes. McGonagall was impressed enough with Firenze's teaching and methods of divining that she kept the centaur as the teacher for the subject.

Their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was quite engaging and competent. Moreover, he had managed to stay on the staff at the end of the year, much to the relief of his employer as well as the students.

Harry married Daphne on a beautiful crisp clear winter day in December, with Neville standing by his side. He managed to fulfil Daphne's initial wish and had her screaming not only on their first night as a married couple, but many subsequent nights afterward.

The ceremony was kept quiet and only friends and immediate family were invited. The public was told of this fact the next day through an announcement in the paper, and a high profile party was organised at the Potter ancestral mansion to commemorate the union and make political connexions.

Harry's final year in school followed the tone of the latter half of his summer holidays. While it was busy (what with him studying for his N.E.W.T.s, Head Boy duties, Quidditch, and a wife) the absence of a life threatening danger made it serene and peaceful. And his powers as the Master of Death made casting new spells a breeze. On top of that, there were the moments of pure bliss spent in Daphne's company. So much so that he had a cheerful expression on his face all throughout the N.E.W.T.s (much to the incredulity of his peers).

To challenge himself, Harry had taken to learning as much as he could beyond Hogwarts while still at school. Under the tutelage of the headmistress (who had made sure to involve herself personally in the project once she heard of it) Harry learnt how to become an Animagus in less than a year. It was a month longer than what McGonagall had managed, but, as she said, her teacher wasn't as busy as she was.

While he would never admit it, Harry really couldn't find much use for his form, a peregrine falcon (with a dark patch of feathers in a pattern mimicking his famous scar). At the most, it could be used for his amusement. Flying as a falcon was a lot like sailing, he supposed, while the other two methods could be compared to powering through on a speedboat.

Though, nothing beat diving as a falcon.

As Head Boy, Harry had done a lot for the school, going above and beyond in some cases. He had reintroduced many sports and clubs that had not been seen since the days his parents had been students thanks to the war. He also used his massive fortune to procure better brooms, upgrade the dorms of the four houses, and improve upon the equipment used in various subjects. His biggest contribution was towards Astronomy. After getting the blessings of the Board of Governors and the Headmistress, Harry had hired the best enchanters of the world to modify the Astronomy Tower. Once it was done, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be the first school in the entire western world to boast of a magical planetarium, located in what was now called the Sirius Tower. The enchantments used by Rowena Ravenclaw had been cleverly adapted to show the predicted position of the stars on a particular day even during daytime. The public was impressed, while the students and Professor Sinistra were relieved at not having to stay up late at nights.

Once word had gone around about Harry Potter's grand project, other wealthy old students, not wanting to be shown up by a teenager, had also chipped in. As a result, the number of scholarships had increased as had the quality of the Potions ingredients and classroom furniture. Another greenhouse had been installed and filled with many exotic plants with the help of the Herbology club. Plans also were made to increase the number of teaching staff.

Ginny Weasley looked from afar at the boy she had a crush on ever since she had heard of his name.

She knew that her initial infatuation with him had been nothing more than a little girl's crush on a celebrity, comparable in many ways to her mother's obsession with Gilderoy Lockhart.

However, that infatuation had been taken along with her innocence by that thrice cursed diary. No matter how much her parents and family denied it, a part of Ginny had died in that ancient place as her very being was possessed by the darkest Dark Lord.

It had taken her a year to get out of the depression caused by the incidents of her first year. The dementors guarding the castle during her second year hadn't helped any.

After a year, and a couple of miles away from the foul depression inducing guards of Azkaban, Ginny felt reborn. Her very outlook had changed during that time. The new Ginny was more cynical and mature than the old. She did not smile as easily, nor was she content to stand by and do nothing. Her feelings for Harry had also changed. It no longer was the naïve schoolgirl crush of old, rather a deeper feeling of affection towards the boy who braved and slayed a sixty foot monster to save her. That he did it with a sword only added to the feeling.

It had taken another year and a few boyfriends for her to realise that the feeling was actually love. She would not call it infatuation, not after seeing Harry at his worst during her fourth year and still loving him. From her observations of him and the things Ron had (knowingly and unknowingly) told her, she knew all about Harry's good qualities and faults.

And she loved him regardless. There was nothing that she wanted changed. Unfortunately it was too late. She was well aware of the contract that he was bound to and the fact that he was married. After all, she was there for the ceremony along with the twins, Bill, Charlie and Fleur.

But she still loved him, and she suspected that he, at least, was attracted to her. Perhaps there was a way that they could work things out. But first she had quite a bit of research to do. For one, she had noticed that Harry wasn't talking that much to her brother and Hermione anymore. What was worse was that every time he laid eyes on them, there was this underlying veneer of hatred lurking beneath his green eyes (which had inexplicably become even more mesmerising, if that was possible).

It also had not escaped her notice that her mother, Ron and Hermione were not present at the wedding. Ron and Hermione, she could understand, as they had spent the winter hols in Australia trying to find Hermione's Obliviated parents. But her mother's absence was a mystery. Her brothers had gone strangely quiet when she commented on that.

Another thing that worried her was her family. Ron might be too clueless or wrapped up in his own world to notice, but Ginny knew that there was something wrong within the clan. Ever since her father had died, she couldn't help but feel that there was a distinct cooling in the relationship between her mother and Bill and the twins. She really did not know about Charlie, as he was wrapped up in his work in Romania.

Well, she would just have to confront the three. While her first choice would have been Bill, he was out of her reach. So that left the twins. And of the two, she knew that George would crack first.

'Professor, I must protest. I did what I did for the good of the school. None of this is necessary!' Harry complained. It was the last week of school and the headmistress had called him in to her office to break the news about the "great honour" to be bestowed upon him.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched as she looked at her favourite student. 'True, it isn't necessary. But we, and by that I mean the Board of Governors and I, want to do it.'

'But I don't want a portrait of me in here!' Harry said in a near whine. 'Not that I object to the company of course,' he hastily added to the scowling portraits. 'But I'm not a headmaster, I never was! It would go against tradition.'

'Technically,' a portrait spoke up. 'You were headmaster. After all, you were the holder of the wards from the time Hogwarts had closed after the death of Dumbledore to a little after professor McGonagall was appointed as the new headmaster. Also, one must not forget that professor Dumbledore passed the wards on to you just before he died. When you put all these facts together, one would not be wrong in saying that you were headmaster for a total of three months, if my calculations are correct. While it is a short time, it isn't the shortest in Hogwarts' history. I believe that record goes to a Richard Masters, who was headmaster for six hours. Of course that was just a bit after the Founders' time, as you know.'

'Oh please,' a portrait of a woman spoke up snidely. 'Only you would bring up that time period.'

'And what is that supposed to mean?' the first portrait challenged.

'Headmasters during the Century of the Three Hundred Headmasters do not count!' the woman primly replied, turning her nose up.

Any response to that was cut off by a silencing spell sent their way from the current headmistress. Not that the portraits noticed.

'See,' Professor McGonagall said a tad triumphantly. 'It's settled then. As for the bust … well, that is a requirement for all major donors. Since you have done so much for the school and the country in general, the least we can do is put up a bust and a portrait of one of the best of magical Britain's sons.'

'A bust?!' Harry sputtered. He automatically thought of all the different busts and statues that were littered throughout the castle and the different things students used to do to them. 'No.' he finally said flatly, glaring at the headmistress for good measure.

Professor McGonagall sighed as she regarded the boy in front of her. He really was too humble. 'Harry, I would strongly recommend that you just go with the bust and the portrait.'

'Why?' Harry replied slowly, not liking the matter-of-fact tone the headmistress was using.

'Because that idea was a compromise, born after hours of negotiating with the Board,'

'I don't quite follow.'

'The Board's original decision was to have a house named after you.' Minerva replied steadily with a straight face.

There was a long moment of silence as Harry digested the news. 'I beg your pardon?' He finally replied in disbelief.

'You heard me, Potter,' the headmistress replied briskly as she took out a piece of parchment and a quill.

'You can't do that!' Harry spluttered. 'I – you can't!'

'Actually, we can,' Professor McGonagall replied. 'So, pick two colours and an animal. We won't ask for your family crest as it isn't as simple as that of the other houses so it won't be as uniform.' Looking thoughtful, she added, 'And it would be a bit awkward as well.' Focusing back on him, she gazed at him expectantly, the quill hovering over the parchment.

'Well, I won't allow it.'

'That doesn't make a difference,' Professor McGonagall shot back, putting the quill down.

'Of course it does! I hold the Slytherin and Gryffindor titles!'

'But you are not on the Board of Governors.' Professor McGonagall countered smoothly. 'And you have yet to claim your Wizengamot seat. So,' she picked the quill back up. 'What qualities do you cherish the most? We will have to inform the Sorting Hat so it knows what to look for. And the Hat would also appreciate having some time to work in the new fifth house of Hogwarts into his yearly song.'

Student and teacher stared at each other for a long moment.

'If you don't pick a colour and animal, Potter, I will.' Professor McGonagall threatened. 'And it probably will be a fluffy kitten.' She added with a smirk that Harry thought was purely evil.

Harry took a long horror-filled moment to digest this. Finally, he sighed in defeat. 'Fine, I agree to the portrait.'

'And the bust?' Harry could not help but note the hint of triumph in the old woman's voice.

Harry gave another sigh, 'and the bust.' He gave a dark look at the still (albeit silently) bickering portraits. 'My portrait-self is so going to hate me.'

Looking at the portraits still arguing, Professor McGonagall made a sympathetic noise. 'They can be a handful sometimes.' She conceded.

'Well, off with you then, Potter. I shall call you when the artist reaches the school.'

Watching the boy leave, Minerva McGonagall reclined back in her seat, allowing a satisfied smile to break out. She always prided herself in getting her way. And she did not consider this a bad thing, not here at least. After all, it wasn't doing the boy any harm…

2010

Harry's eyes jerked open. Blinking, he slowly took in his surroundings. The glass in his hand was long gone, no doubt removed by an elf once he had fallen asleep.

He blearily turned his attention to the thing he had immediately noticed as soon as he woke up. The sleeping form of a small boy curled up on his lap.

Looking at the untidy mop of dark blue hair brought memories of the boy's birth back to his mind.

After a long and perilous journey, Edmund "Teddy" Harry Potter-Black took his first breath of free air in St. Mungo's on the twentieth of September two thousand and four. However, the Healers had kept him under observation for a month before releasing him to the Greengrasses who had enthusiastically insisted on taking care of the boy till Harry and Daphne were ready.

Other than being restless on full moon nights, the baby showed no signs of his biological father's affliction. Instead, he had inherited his mother's inborn trait, something he was quite happy to show off to all around the minute he was born. They had quickly figured out that the new-born changed his hair colour instinctively to match the brightest colour that caught his attention. Harry still smiled when he thought of the games they used to play in getting Teddy to change his hair into as outrageous a colour as possible.

By the end of December, a week or so after they had been married, Daphne had become pregnant. While she had managed to finish her exams without any difficulty, a problem arose near the end of the year when Daphne insisted that they continue as planned and go on the customary world tour.

Naturally, Harry and his new in-laws were against the idea, thinking that Daphne was insane for considering the possibility. But the girl put her foot down. Through a masterful application of cajoling, emotional blackmail, threats, tears and stubbornness, the Earl Potter found himself on his way to the continent to next to his wife and the infant Baron Black as they began their tour with no idea as to how it had come to that.

Accompanied by Neville, and Susan (unfortunately, Hannah had to repeat a year due to being pulled out by her father), the young family started their journey. A few weeks in, the group split when the blond boy decided to stay in Austria for a while longer with his steady girlfriend. Now left alone, the young couple took great pleasure in exploring the world, each other and the joys of parenting.

Encouraged by his wife, Harry enthusiastically took to raising Edmund and later on, James Sirius Potter-Black, the Earl Slytherin (born on the twentieth of August two thousand and five) as they visited many exotic locales.

Till this day, Harry had no idea how he had managed to survive first Daphne's pregnancy, and later, raising two rambunctious boys while travelling. It had taken them two years (a year extra than scheduled) for the Earl and Countess to come back home with a two year old Baron Black and one year old Earl Slytherin. They had retraced Salazar's journey across the world, and had learnt many esoteric fields of magic as well as a few languages. Chief among that was the Parsel magic of the nomadic Indians (though it was now taught in a small exclusive school only for Parselmouths). When the boys grew older, Harry was planning on taking them through the same ritual to give them the ability to cast Parsel magic. The boys would have the additional advantage as their father knew enough of Parsel magic to teach them himself.

In addition to Parseltongue (something both his sons knew instinctively) Harry now knew Mermish, and Gobbledegook along with German, French, Sanskrit (the script of which he found was derived from Parseltongue) and some rudimentary Cantonese.

As soon as he returned, Harry took his seat at the Wizengamot, representing all the three hereditary titles of Potter, Black and Slytherin. Had he combined the families, like what had been done with the Potter and Gryffindor titles, the number of votes he would have as a result would be limited to one even if the number of seats were plural. But this way, he would have three, one as the Earl Potter, and the other two as proxies for Earl Slytherin and Baron Black. His heir apparent, James, would give the Slytherin title to his own son after he became the next Earl Potter (around the time Harry would be able to claim the Gryffindor title) while the heir presumptive, Edmund would keep his title of Baron Black to pass onto his own child.

Thanks to Flamel's influence, and his own popularity, barely a year had passed before Harry was the Chief Warlock.

One of the many perks of that job was getting front row seats to Snape's execution, and being the person to tell Peter Pettigrew that he would soon follow the greasy man's footsteps.

Carefully placing the sleeping five year old on the bed in his room, Harry looked at the boy fondly. Edmund had the same heart-shaped face of his mother. At the same time, he was generally a quiet boy, preferring to read more than anything else. Very much like his biological father was said to be (who was missing and presumed dead). James, on the other hand, was more outdoorsy. With a face that was a perfect blend of Harry's and Daphne's, James was just as unusual looking as his older brother. What made the four year old boy unique were his eyes. His left eye was as blue as Daphne's while his right was a stunning green resembling his father's. The Healers told Harry and Daphne that it was a rare genetic condition called heterochromia iridum. They assured the parents that it was not congenital, but resulting from mosaicism where the body has two or more cell populations with different genotypes.

While the boys were close, they also were incredibly competitive. Not a day went by without the two fighting each other. At first, Harry was quite befuddled with the whole thing. Surely brothers don't fight.

Daphne had been quick to set him straight. Being an older sister, she understood and knew of sibling rivalry. Cyrus Greengrass had also shared stories of the numerous childhood fights he had with his late elder brother, further reassuring his son-in-law.

It did not make parenting easier, though. Harry had lost track of the number of times he had to play referee as both squabbled over who pinched whom first or whose turn was it to play with which toy.

Moving towards his own room, he passed by Mark's room. The two had a friendly relationship over the years as Harry had given the boy a home. Now eighteen, Mark had been accepted as an Auror trainee (helped by Harry). Once he had enough money, Mark planned on moving to a home of his own and settling down. He had solemnly refused when Harry had offered him one of the family properties, stating that Harry had done and was doing more than enough for him not only by housing him, but paying for his education as well.

As he reached the master bedroom, Harry ruminated that aside from Colin Creevey (who, Harry was "surprised" to find out, was an upcoming professional photographer) Mark was his number one fan. He knew that the younger man practically worshiped Harry, and would do anything asked of by him. Harry only hoped that he did not disappoint Mark.

Slipping into the spacious master bedroom, Harry slowly undressed as he made his way to the bed and his sleeping wife. Despite having given birth to a child and being two weeks pregnant, Daphne still retained a gorgeous slim figure.

His wife sleepily hummed as Harry slipped inside next to her, rubbing his bare chest against her body. Turning around, she draped an arm around him, snuggling in deeper.

'Finished with your work?' she murmured.

Harry only hummed in reply as he ran his hand down her back, feeling the warm flesh through the silky material of her negligee.

'Sorry I couldn't meet you earlier today … how was work?'

'It was alright,' Harry softly replied. 'I met Granger.' He said after a pause.

That sentence was enough to get her to open her eyes. 'Oh?' she asked, more alert and interested. 'And?'

Harry chuckled lowly. 'Apparently she's the new head of the Dee Em El Ee.' He frowned, 'That is a bit sudden. The last I checked, she was only a regular barrister.' His expression clearing, he continued in an eager voice. 'She had her knickers in a right twist once she found out about the new act. It made for a hell of an introduction.'

Daphne moaned as his hands kneaded her backside. 'I heard about something else you said.' She commented.

'Ah, the Ginny and Gabrielle debacle,' Harry said dismissively. 'You should have seen her face when I mentioned that! She was fit to be tied.' He started trailing kisses down her neck.

Even though her eyes fluttered shut at Harry's ministrations, Daphne continued speaking. 'So what have you thought about their proposals?'

'There is only one person for me, and that is you, Daphne.' Harry growled possessively as he rolled on top of her.

Daphne moaned with passion at the sound of his voice. She gasped when she felt the heat of his length pressing against her. No matter how many times he did it, she was always surprised at the way he managed to get his and her clothes off with just a thought. It always took her time to realise that she was starkers. Ever since they had been married, she had noticed an absence of a lifeline in her palms. She did not know if that meant immortality, even after Harry had explained the whole "Master of Death" thing to her when he had fully come clean to her the day after he had recovered from his fight with Voldemort, but she would not mind an eternity of this. As Harry touched a rather sensitive spot, she wondered what new exciting thing Harry was planning on trying.

Harry smirked as he felt her respond. Unknown to his wife, he had bought the original copies of the magical version of the Kama Sutra when they were in India. Now occupying a secret place in his study, Harry used those to add in some more variety to their time in bed and further enhance his expertise.

Just then Daphne remembered something.

'Today is a full moon,' she gasped.

Harry, whose head was somewhere near her bellybutton, peeked out from the blanket. 'So?' he asked.

'Teddy,' she hissed as if that explained everything, which it should, she thought irritably.

Harry snorted. 'Please, I found him fast asleep on my lap when I woke up in my study. I even put him to bed. He'll probably sleep through full moon nights from tonight.'

Daphne raised an eyebrow. 'I recall you saying the same thing the last time.' She said flatly.

'This time it will be different,' Harry protested. Without waiting for her reply, he disappeared back under the covers.

'And that was the second line you said the last time, word for word.' Daphne practically purred. Words fled her mind as she succumbed to Harry's expertise and her passion.

The couple froze when they heard the patter of small feet on the marble floor outside their room.

With a muted curse, Harry rolled off Daphne, magically restoring her negligee and his boxers as he did so.

Not a moment later, the door opened and a small form shuffled in. With eyes still closed, Edmund crawled onto the bed between his parents. Snuggling in, he cuddled up to Harry and promptly started snoring softly, his right thumb drifting to his mouth.

'Daddy's little boy,' Daphne softly teased, a smirk on her face. 'He just can't get to sleep on full moon nights without his father. It's almost as if he is magnetically attracted to you. Did you see how he just wandered in without opening his eyes?'

Harry snorted. 'I don't know what he's going to do when he has to go to school.' Gently, he removed the thumb. 'And I don't know what you mean by "daddy's little boy".' He huffed. 'After all, who does he go to half the time after he has done something bad, hoping to get away with it?'

With a snort, Daphne turned away. 'Go to sleep.'

Her parting comment made Harry smirk as he settled in. He knew for a fact that Daphne was a pushover as far as the boys were concerned. And the children knew it too.

Pushover he thought.

Suddenly he felt her palm impact his shoulder.

'Ow, what'd I do?' he complained, rubbing his stinging shoulder.

'I know what you were thinking,' she replied.

'… Fair enough,'

The sun dawned on the large mansion and expansive grounds, bathing three figures in its light.

Harry had never stopped his morning routine from his sixth year despite having no reason to do so. He had even added weights to his routine ever since he had turned eighteen.

Edmund added an extra dimension to those workouts ever since his fifth birthday. James, unwilling to be left out, had joined in the next day. They had enough energy to be up every morning at the crack of dawn like their father without being woken up. Jogging was no longer a chore done to keep fit for Harry, but a game of running and catching as the screaming kids darted to and fro, sometimes demanding piggyback rides. Harry had also shamelessly used the boys as weights, not that they minded. They found it thrilling to be lifted by their father as he exercised his biceps and sitting on Harry's back as he did push ups.

At least it ensured that they went to sleep on time.

Harry was quite thankful that he had learnt swimming properly by age twenty from his father in-law. This way, he could pass on the same skill to his children in the indoor heated pool he was planning on installing.

Walking into the kitchen after the two still excited children, a sweaty Harry greeted his wife with a kiss. Sending the boys to their rooms to have their bath, he dragged Daphne with him to do the same, bringing up a topic that had been touched upon last night.

Later, with the children occupied by their governess and lessons, Daphne brought up another subject from last night.

'So, what do you have to say about Ginny Weasley and that Delacour girl?'

Harry grimaced as he recalled the separate marriage proposals. Ginny was the first to make her move. Near the end of his seventh year, the girl had approached them both with a passionate declaration of love for Harry.

Done with her declaration, Ginny then proposed a union in marriage, mentioning an old law that was still in effect even if it had not been used for nearly two hundred years. She did not make it official, as traditionally only the head of a family could do so, but stated orally that she loved Harry enough that she was actually willing to share.

Harry's first instinct was to say no. He still felt the thrill of fire that coursed through his veins whenever he looked at the girl (it was partly the reason why he had been avoiding her like the plague throughout the year). He had got himself checked for enchantments and potions so many times over the year that even Madam Pomfrey, an overprotective paranoid person herself, had become fed up.

But before he could vocalise it, Daphne replied that they would think about it.

She later explained to her befuddled husband that there were some advantages to taking the redhead as a second wife. She then went on to say that the final decision was Harry's and after thinking on it for a few years, he would come to the right answer.

Harry was confused. He knew by then that he loved Daphne. His love for her was clear, beautiful and like an eternal cold fire that steadily burned within him every time he saw her. But then there was Ginny. His feelings for her were intense, hotter than a summer afternoon in the Sahara. It scared him.

Damn woman! He personally blamed the red hair. It was so fiery, so long and soft looking that he just wanted to run his hands –.

Damn woman.

'Like I said last night,' Harry said with passion burning in his eyes. 'You are the only one for me.'

Face flushing, Daphne kissed her husband. 'You are sweet,' she said with feeling. 'But what did you say all that to Granger for?'

'Oh that,' Harry said with a sneaky grin. 'I only mentioned the possibility of marrying the two. I never said that it would happen.'

Seeing her raise an eyebrow, he continued. 'Knowing her, now that she knows of an archaic law that hasn't been removed, amended or otherwise edited, she will make it her priority to change that law. Something that I am quite sure she will fail at. In other words, she will be too distracted by that to concentrate on the Magical Child Protection Act.'

'If you are sure, dear,' Daphne conceded. 'But what about the Delacours?'

Harry sighed. The Delacours were a complication. Fleur and Gabrielle's father, Jean-Sebastian, was a powerful man in France with an ancestry and connexions that fit very well with Harry's plans. In order to secure an alliance with Harry, and by extension, Great Britain, the man had proposed his youngest daughter's hand in marriage, stating the same law which was also in effect in France.

At least the French and English agreed on one thing.

To further compound things, Gabrielle herself wasn't averse to the idea of being engaged to an older man. And that age difference wasn't as great as Harry thought initially. What he had taken to be a nine year old girl in his fourth year was actually twelve years old. He was lucky that he had not mentioned it aloud. He suspected that Gabrielle would have been quite upset if he had.

This alliance was something that Daphne had no problems about and actually encouraged. The problem was that Harry couldn't accept one proposal and decline the other. It just did not feel right.

Daphne mentally rolled her eyes. It was sweet that her husband only cared about her and wasn't willing to marry another woman. Truth be told, she felt the same. There was no way that she was going to let him be with another woman. He was hers. If she could get away with it, she would even have written her name on his penis.

But at the same time, an alliance with the Delacours would help her husband's and Flamel's plans, even though both men had not mentioned it to her.

She also knew that the Weasley girl had intense feelings towards Harry. And it wasn't something that she felt threatened by. She fully intended on making sure that they would remain tertiary wives. It was the reason why she had made it a point to get to know the both of them. It would help manipulate them better.

'I wouldn't mind if you go with it,' she said with a smile. 'I know that marrying Gabrielle would help your plans, and also that you feel a certain attraction to Ginny. But most importantly, I know that you love me as much, if not more, than how much I love you.' She gave him a look conveying her support, 'I am behind you all the way.'

Harry looked at her for a long time. 'Very well,' he finally said. 'I will agree. But I will make it clear that it is to happen with the consent of both women, and we shall only marry much later. Probably when I am –' he shrugged. 'Thirty.'

Daphne hummed in response. In magical society, a majority of the couples married in their late thirties to early forties. It was true that the past few generations married young, but that was mainly because of the wars.

Mortality does wonders in speeding up the time in which you think about wanting a family.

Kissing Daphne goodbye, Harry stepped into the large fireplace in their drawing room. In a flash of emerald fire, he was off. There was an important meeting that would help further the cause of the Wizarding World.

Hermione Granger-Weasley Apparated to the backyard of The Burrow, exhausted. The first day of her new job had been extremely stressful.

Only recently promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement (and that too in a very short time) she had received a nasty surprise in the form of a new law that was to be passed. The Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act had truly shocked her to her core. She knew they had slowly started drifting apart. She did not know when exactly that had started. It was almost as if one day they were the best of friends and the next, complete strangers.

'Hey there, beautiful,'

Hermione only sent a wan smile to her husband in reply to his greeting as she ungracefully fell into one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

'Rough day?' Ron said as he kneaded her shoulders.

'You have no idea,' Hermione groaned as she closed her eyes and gave into her husband's ministrations.

'I made you your favourite in celebration of your new job,' Ron levitated a plate in front of her without moving from his spot behind her, his left hand still massaging a shoulder.

'Chicken cordon bleu,' he proclaimed grandly as she removed the cloche.

'Thanks,' Hermione said as she dug in.

Ron's culinary skills had been quite a surprise. Hermione knew for a fact that he was quite a … voracious … eater. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that Ron actually had a passion for food beyond eating. He had taken to cooking like duck to water.

It had taken just one Muggle show on cooking while they were in Australia … and the rest, as the expression goes, was history.

She still remembered the day that she had heard about Voldemort's defeat.

A scant day after she had returned home from Hogwarts, she had erased her parents' memories, sending them off to Australia. To further ensure that they could not be traced, she had also got them to sell their private dental practice, liquidate all their assets, and transfer everything to a bank in Perth.

Once they were gone, she packed all her possessions, and moved to the Burrow, where she was welcomed with open arms. She did not feel guilty about keeping some of her parents' money, the times were dire, and the Weasleys weren't exactly well off.

No sooner had she moved in, that the situation started to get steadily worse. A week after she had relocated to the Burrow, the Death Eaters had terrorised the residents of Diagon Alley. Worse than the property loss and extensive damage done was the loss of three people who had stayed back to help the fleeing wizards and witches. All of them had been Order members, and of them was the loss of Arthur Weasley.

His death had seemed to hit the family hard. Mrs Weasley had been unable to stop crying for three days, while Bill and the twins had become closed off. Over time, the three Weasleys had become just as distant as Percy (who still was yet to contact the family).

Then the unthinkable happened. One night, two days after Mr Weasley's death, Mad Eye Moody had come to the Burrow with grave news: Harry had disappeared from his relatives' house.

Despite the Muggles all having been arrested by the Ministry, it was decided that Harry would stay in Privet Drive under guard till he turned seventeen. An analysis of the property showed that the wards Dumbledore had made still held. It would give them enough time to fully upgrade the Burrow's defences.

So it was shocking that Harry Potter had simply vanished without a trace. Hermione remembered sitting up the whole night as she tried not to think of the number of terrible things that could have happened to her friend as Moody and the rest went around in search of the boy.

They had finally fallen asleep in the living room at around two in the morning.

When they next woke up, it was to a major surprise. The occupants of the household did not know what to say to the headlines on the Daily Prophet that claimed that the Dark Lord Voldemort was finally defeated, and that too at the hands of the person who they all had been worrying about.

Any doubts they had on the veracity of the headlines were dashed by the picture of a tired looking but still triumphant Harry posing next to what could only be Voldemort's corpse strapped to a table.

The feelings of joy and relief that succeeded the initial shock and incredulity of what they had seen did not last long and were soon replaced by indignation, anger and a bit of hurt. Why hadn't Harry told them anything? And how had he managed to get all the Horcruxes so quickly?

But Harry wasn't there to answer any questions. After defeating Voldemort, the teen had disappeared from public eye, to a house that belonged to the Potter family, saying that he was resting.

The Weasleys didn't have much time to worry about that as Bill's wedding was scheduled to happen in the next twenty four hours. They were extremely fortunate to have booked everything before the announcement of Voldemort's death as it meant that they had managed to make a killing of a deal for things that would normally be far above their budget. Voldemort's death also meant that everyone in the guest list had decided to attend, and they brought their friends as well.

Hermione and Ron couldn't find Harry anywhere on that day. Not that they were too surprised or worried by that fact as the place was quite jam-packed. Knowing Harry's aversion to the public eye, they were sure that he had come under disguise.

Feeling a sense of urgency, Hermione convinced Ron to go to Australia the next day to retrieve her parents and restore their memories. It was very fortunate that nobody had yet bought the house, so it could be taken off the market.

But they were unsuccessful in locating her parents in the island continent. Hermione had searched till the twenty third of August before Ron had finally convinced her to come back and finish her final year of school.

They had tried again during the winter hols. Nothing had changed success wise, but Ron and Hermione did manage to become closer. They had finally realised and admitted their feelings for each other. From there, their relationship developed quickly. It wasn't long before the both of them had lost their virginity to each other.

But that was the last time they got the opportunity to go to Australia.

Hermione realised that she was pregnant on the first week back at school. Cursing herself at her stupidity, she told Ron the news, fearing his rejection. She was thus overjoyed to find Ron being supportive instead of scornful or afraid.

Bathed by the light of the full moon on top of the North Tower, the redhead had proposed to his steady girlfriend and lover of six months.

They had a simple private ceremony in The Burrow when school let out for Easter. Even though the family didn't seem particularly enthused about their union, the couple was too happy to notice.

Hermione gave birth to Rose Weasley on the twenty-fifth of September two thousand and five, six days after her own birthday.

As she had spent the last of the money of her parents, and since there was no breadwinner, things at the Burrow were tight. Hermione was forced to sell her parents' large house. It was too impractical to move into the Muggle neighbourhood as the family she was marrying into would stick out like a sore thumb as they not only were unfamiliar with Muggles, but weren't as affluent as the rest of the neighbourhood. Besides, she had seen enough of Ron's jealousy at Harry to care for having it directed at her.

Thankfully, Fred and George had volunteered to pay for Ginny's education, easing things up significantly.

Hermione's N.E.W.T. marks were great enough for her to gain an internship at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She had worked really long hours for a year before being given full employment.

But at the same time, things were still tight. While Fred and George had volunteered to help with Ginny, offering the girl the opportunity for higher education (which she had taken and gone to France – much to Hermione's jealousy) and lightening the financial strain, there was still the issue of taking care of an infant, and an old woman. Molly Weasley might be middle-aged as far as magical standards were concerned, but the loss of her husband seemed to have aged her.

After Arthur's death, the woman had lost a lot of weight. And while Hermione loved her mother-in-law deeply, she found that living with the woman every single day was quite a different matter. Only a month after her marriage did she realise that Molly Weasley could be quite a bossy woman.

Molly Weasley also had a very old fashioned view on things. This basically meant that she was not pleased to learn that her son was the homemaker while her daughter-in-law was the breadwinner. Hermione had gone blue in the face trying to explain to the obstinate woman that it was not possible for Ron to get a decent job as his marks weren't exactly up to par. He did not have enough N.E.W.T.s to gain a position in the Auror Corps, and his skills on a broom while good weren't professional quality. Even the Chudley Cannons had rejected him, and that was saying something!

Hermione was quite thankful that Ron had taken a liking to cooking, keeping the house and raising their little daughter. She shuddered to think what life would be like if he wasn't. She already had to fight one battle with her mother-in-law. She would not be able to deal with Ron as well.

'How's Rose?' She finally said once she finished her meal.

Sitting opposite her, Ron smiled contentedly. 'She's great. Takes after her mother, she does. It's scary how fast she learns things.' Taking out his wand, he floated the dishes out to the sink. 'So how was your first day as the new head?'

Hermione bristled at the reminder of the day.

'You won't believe what just happened.' She growled. Launching into a description of her day, she explained the new act that was passed by the Wizengamot, its name and who had sponsored it.

'That is …' Ron paused for a long time. 'Wow,' he breathed; gobsmacked. 'I cannot believe that Harry would do that.'

Hermione snorted. 'Well, he did. He showed me the memory of the whole thing. You should have seen the smug grin on his face.'

'Harry has really changed,' Ron said as they moved towards their room. They had claimed Fred and George's old room for theirs as it was the biggest in the house. It had taken months, but the stench of gunpowder had finally been removed.

'The things he said to me, you won't believe, Ron!' Hermione said indignantly. 'Can you believe that he actually said that I deliberately erased my parents' memories because they were abusing me? He used that as justification for the Act!'

Ron's ears went red at this. 'How dare he … Wait till I get my hands on him!' he growled.

'Ronald Bilius Weasley, you will do no such thing!' Hermione reprimanded, her voice coming out in a hiss because of the lateness of the night.

'Alright, alright,' Ron raised his hands in surrender. 'Jeez. I wonder why he became so … hateful towards us, though,' he added thoughtfully. 'I'd expect something like that from Malfoy, you know.'

'I think I know why,' Hermione replied. 'At least, I think I know why he was sort of ignoring us all throughout seventh year.' Steeling herself, she continued in a hollow voice. 'He found out about Dumbledore paying us.'

'What?' Ron said sharply.

'Yes,' Hermione said in a small voice. 'Apparently, he's known for a really long time, but didn't say a thing.'

'But – but, we gave that money back.' Ron stuttered.

'Still, doesn't change the fact that we took it in the first place.' Hermione said. 'Besides, I doubt he knows about that fact. And I doubt that he will be willing to listen to us if we even told him.'

Changing into her pyjamas, Hermione got into bed, taking out a tube of lotion, squeezing some onto her palms and rubbing it on her arms vigorously as Ron himself got ready for bed. Slipping in, he extinguished the lights, plunging the room into darkness.

As she lay down, Hermione turned to her husband, remembering something, her indignation returning. 'Can you believe that the prick actually claimed that we never invited him to our wedding?' She whispered heatedly.

Hearing Ron snort next to her, she huffed. 'How dare he accuse us of not sending him an invitation? I get that he is angry at us for taking Dumbledore's money, but to accuse us of that … I wonder what he would call that card you sent to him then.'

An uncomfortable silence met her proclamation. Picking up on it, she sat back up and looked at her husband with narrowed eyes and asked, 'What is it?'

'Um,' she could hear Ron gulp noisily. 'I thought you had sent the invitation.'

It took Hermione a very long moment for Ron's words to register in her brain. With a mental groan she sank back into the bed.

Suddenly she felt something snaking up around her.

Slapping the arm, she hissed, 'Not now, dammit!'

'But, I thought that we were going to celebrate…' Ron whined.

'I've got a headache. Besides, I have to get up early tomorrow. Or didn't you get the memo?'

With this snide remark, Hermione turned around and closed her eyes, ignoring the soft groan of frustration coming from behind her.

Well, here we go.

I don't know about you guys, but the new formatting of the notifications of author alerts is disturbing ...

Before it used to be something like, "X has put you on his Author alerts list" and that was fine.

Now ... it says

"HunterKillerSadist now following you"

"GodofDeathandDisease now following you"

"Iamgoingtokillyouinyoursleep now following you"

aaaahhhhh

:D

36. The Order of the Phoenix

The sound of knocking on the door caused the woman to look up from her desk. Taking out her wand, she waved it at the door, opening it to show a short old man, his face wizened and back hunched with age.

'Lord Nathanael,' Hermione greeted as she stood up swiftly. Walking around the desk, she approached to assist the old man.

'I am fine, I am fine,' he said in a frail voice as he waved her off, putting his wand, an ancient looking tool, inside his pocket. 'I managed to get to this office without you. I think I can get to the chair the same way.' He said good-naturedly. Taking out a red silk handkerchief, he coughed violently into it as he slowly walked in, his highly polished mahogany cane tapping along as it assisted him inside.

Gracelessly falling into the chair opposite Hermione's desk, he gave out a loud sigh, wiping at his glistening forehead with the kerchief. 'You should get an assistant,' he declared, looking around imperiously.

'I shall think about it. What may I do for you today, sir?' Hermione said as she sat behind her desk, giving her all his attention. She practically revered this man. Lord Nathanael Smith, great grandfather of Zacharias Smith had sponsored her entrance into the Ministry as an intern to begin with. She owed her success to the old man. In fact, it was also due to the recommendation of the same man that she had got the position of the head of the department three months ago.

Peering at the mountain of work around her desk, Lord Nathanael nodded approvingly. 'It is good to see the head of a department putting in a lot of hard work. May I ask as to what it is you are working on?'

'Oh, just some old marriage law that I am looking to get repealed,' Hermione responded dismissively.

'Old marriage law?' Hermione noticed that the man, while old, had two of the most piercing grey eyes as he gazed at her. They spoke of a great acuity of the mind unhampered by age.

'Yes, sir, basically, it's a law that allows polygamous marriages.' Hermione sniffed, unable to hide her disapproval. She had devoted as much of her free time as she could in researching that law. It was so mired in tradition and legalese that getting it amended or repealed would take a lot of effort. Not only was there an outright law permitting polygamy, that would need a two-third majority vote from the Ancient and Noble Houses (as the law itself was ancient) but there were at least four other bills that had a clause allowing the practice. And that wasn't counting the loopholes that could be used.

A small quirk of the lips was the only response she got.

Putting both hands on the knob of his cane, a smoothened amber rock, the man looked at her thoughtfully. 'I am having a dinner party tonight, and was hoping that you would be interested in coming. Some of my friends will be there, and I think you might enjoy their company.'

Hermione was ecstatic. Finally, her years of hard work were going to pay off! She might be able to get some support for her new project. 'I would be honoured, sir!' she enthused. Getting a sudden thought, she continued. 'May I bring my husband along?'

'Ah, yes,' the old aristocrat exclaimed. 'Ronald is his name, yes? Well, bring him along. The more the merrier. Although I don't think it would be advisable to bring your little one along.' He smiled indulgently. 'I imagine such gatherings will be very boring for someone as young as you, so they might be unbearable for someone of Rose, I believe her name was?' Hermione nodded. 'Yes, Rose's age.'

'I will make arrangements for a babysitter,' Hermione readily agreed. 'Her grandmother so adores taking care of children anyway.'

'Ah, Molly Prewitt,' the old man nodded sagely. 'I have heard many things about her.' Leaning on his cane he got up. 'Well, I will see you tonight at eight sharp. I have sent you a small gift for the occasion. I hope you don't mind. At my age I like to indulge.' Not waiting for a response, Smith slowly walked out, extracting and waving his wand to open the door for him.

The "small gift" turned out to be two sets of dress robes, one each for Ron and her.

Hermione held her dress robe up, examining it with a critical eye. The amaranthine coloured raw silk robe both looked and felt as if it would be worth her year's salary. Hermione could also detect dust repellent charms woven into the cloth. That factor alone would account for a fourth of the price as the enchantment was fiendishly difficult to weave, and was generally applied on the material, wearing off in a few days.

Had she been any less enthusiastic about the prospect of meeting so many powerful people, Hermione would have found it quite strange that the two clearly tailor-made robes fit Ron and her so perfectly.

Ron was initially wary of going to the party, but the prospect of getting out of the house, away from Rose and his overbearing mother was too much to pass up. It wasn't that he did not love them (he adored them both equally) but he wanted a break. He needed a break. Taking care of Rose (Fred and George's penchant for destruction and practical jokes, put together with Hermione's brilliant mind was a dangerous combination) was quite taxing without listening as his mother gave subtle hints every second minute about him going out and finding what she called "a real job".

When Hermione added that the party might help them get more money and possibly ease their financial strain (which was slowly lessening thanks to her new job) Ron was moving so fast to get changed that Hermione swore that she could see his afterimage in the kitchen where she was sitting.

The manor belonging to the Smiths was elegant in its simplicity. The family crest, a black badger on a gold background, proudly displayed on the gates and above the door told every visitor there the family's connexion to one of the legendary founders of Hogwarts.

Upon reaching the front doors, Ron looked warily at his wife when the liveried manservant that greeted them called for a House-Elf to take their coats. He was gratified to notice that other than a small tightening around her eyes, Hermione did not say anything. Self-consciously smoothing his new light blue dress robes, he escorted his wife inside the large house.

If it wasn't for the fact that he was far away from toys, frilly child-sized clothes that once belonged to his sister or the shrieking of his daughter as she ran around demonstrating that, indeed, she took after Fred and George (and come to think of it, Ginny as well) having good quality food and in adult company, Ronald Weasley would have found the entire party incredibly boring.

Knowing that his wife's job and the future of the family was at stake, he made sure to conduct himself with impeccable manners. To that end, he, in a burst of inspiration, decided to watch and mimic the actions of the other guests. Not really knowing anyone in the party, he also elected to keep to himself, silently sitting at his place at the large table and enjoying the food as he watched people around him talk about things he had no clue about, even if they were not work related. The only times he spoke was when he was directly addressed. So he concentrated on keeping his mouth closed as he chewed, and lowering his eating speed. While he agreed with his mother that he did not eat too fast, he still decided to follow his wife's advice. It would make her a bit happy.

Hermione was mentally hyperventilating. This night was going to be a make it or break it moment for the family. Anxiously, she cast a glance at Ron, noting the barely concealed look of abject boredom on his face with additional angst. At least he was making a good effort to be well-mannered. She couldn't help but notice that the two of them stuck out amongst the genteel. For the first time in her life she wished that she had not refused when her mother had tried to sign her up for etiquette lessons in the summer after her first year.

The party wasn't even really a party, more like a small gathering of Lord Nathanael's companions. Of the eleven present there (excluding their host) she and Ron were the youngest there. The next youngest person in the whole room was someone that Hermione recognised only as a member of the Wizengamot. And he was at least in his fifties.

Once the last of the food was cleared away magically, the host slowly stood up, leaning heavily on his cane. 'I trust that all of us found the food satisfying?' Not waiting for any response, he continued. 'Shall we adjourn for some drinks?' he looked at Hermione directly. 'I think Mrs Weasley would like to join us as well.'

Taking a deep shaky breath, Hermione followed Lord Nathanael along with five others, four of which she noticed, were male.

The last glimpse she had of the dining room was that of Ron, surrounded by the equally antediluvian wives of her ancient companions, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

Hermione need only take one look around the room to know that it was a man's domain. The smell of rich expensive leather coming no doubt from the large armchairs grouped around an expansive fireplace was prevalent, competing with the aroma of tobacco. The wall opposite to the fireplace was occupied by a wet bar from which drinks were being mixed invisibly. The third wall was dominated by numerous highly polished mediaeval weapons.

The men and woman all settled in quickly, drinks automatically floating to them. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, Hermione perched on one of the armchairs.

Hermione was surprised to find that all of them, even the woman, lit cigars. While she had learnt, a long time back, that tobacco was not as addictive and harmful to witches and wizards, Hermione had never seen a woman with a cigar. While she had seen French women smoke cigarettes, and on occasion, her own mother (which was a secret that her father was to never know) a cigar was always seen to the Muggleborn as a thing that a man used. Then again, she supposed that she shouldn't be too surprised. Cigarettes never caught on in the magical world. Even amongst the people in her generation.

What she found even more surprising was the lack of smell that she knew should come out from the lit smokes. From her experience she knew that they smelled. And she hated that smell.

'Relax, girl, you are not on trial here.' Lord Samuel, an old wrinkled bald man with more liver spots than Hermione could count on his head said as he lazily let smoke waft out from his mouth.

Hermione marginally relaxed. Seeing this, Lord Nathanael spoke up. 'I hope you liked the dinner party?'

'Yes, sir,' Hermione replied eagerly. 'Though if I may, I do have a question.' Seeing her host nod, Hermione soldiered on. 'I was wondering where Zacharias was. I was hoping to meet him tonight. You know, catch up with an old school mate and all...?' she trailed off.

Lord Nathanael chuckled. 'Ah, young Zachary,' he said fondly. 'He's away at the moment. Gone with some friends for a night out, I believe.'

'Oh,' the other woman in the group, Lady Margret, enquired politely. 'What does Zacharias do nowadays?'

'Glad you asked, Marge,' Nathanael replied. 'He's currently studying for a Masters in Charms in Nice. Just came over for the holidays. Quite a hard worker too, you know. Why, my son has nothing but praise for the boy. According to him, Zachary will be more than capable of taking the reins in about a year's time after he starts the business.'

As the others made quiet noises of appreciation, Hermione couldn't help but feel a small amount of jealousy. Over the course of the past few years as she worked for the ministry, she knew that heirs of very old, rich and established families had quite a life. After they finished school, they would either go to university where they would get degrees in whatever field they wanted or travel the world and learn as they moved. After that, they would start taking care of the family business, allowing their fathers to retire and play in the field of politics. Once that happened, the grandfathers would in turn retire and take part in the legislative part of the Wizengamot, sitting in on sessions in their own fathers' place.

Once the great-grandfathers of the heir were replaced, they would do whatever it is that old men like Lord Nathanael do in their pastime.

Of course, that was the ideal situation. Thanks to Voldemort, younger people were now doing things earlier. She, Ron, Harry, Neville and even Draco Malfoy were prime examples of this. Lord Nathanael and his friends were all that remained of that old guard, the generation that was around when people of Dumbledore's generation were born. Thankfully, Grindelwald had not made that much of an impact on Britain.

Oh how she wished that she had taken more care. If she had only listened to her head instead of her hormones, then she would not have trusted that potion and insisted that Ron use a condom. But she had been unable to resist those adorable blue eyes and that pout. Besides, she also wanted to feel him inside of her.

'Right,' Lord Nathanael's suddenly business-like tone interrupted her thoughts. 'Let us cut to the chase, so to speak.' Fixing Hermione with a piercing gaze he addressed her. 'I hear, Mrs Weasley, that you had an, encounter … with Lord Potter a few months back?'

The other occupants in the room sat up straighter in their chairs, looking far more alert than before. Hermione herself stiffened at the reminder of their meeting last week.

'Yes I did,' she began warily. 'It was after I learnt of the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act.'

'And what do you think of this act?' Lord Samuel, a barrel chested man asked with the air of a person who already knew the answer.

'I … don't approve.' Hermione finally said slowly.

Her statement caused the occupants to chuckle softly.

'Too bad that the Wizengamot does not support your views, girl,' Lady Margret said with a tight smile.

Hermione's mouth tightened at that.

'Perhaps, Mrs Weasley would not mind showing us her memory of that meeting between her and Lord Potter?' Lord Samuel interjected, still looking at Hermione with his rheumy eyes. 'That is if, you don't mind?' he asked her courteously.

Getting a nod from Hermione, the host rang a small soundless bell.

Immediately, a House-Elf popped in.

'Bring me my Pensieve, will you, Char?'

Without replying, the silent elf popped away, appearing moments later with the instrument in question.

Lord Nathanael floated the bowl towards her, his request more than clear.

After some instruction, Hermione deposited the memory in question into the bowl.

Hermione was left alone in the room as the older people examined the memory. A few moments later, as they took their seats, Lord Nathanael spoke thoughtfully. 'This is disturbing.'

'But not unexpected.' Lady Margaret replied.

'Yes, not unexpected at all,' Lord Samuel repeated. 'I hate to say it, but your suspicions were right, Nathanael.'

'How I wish I was wrong, old friend.'

There was a very long silence.

Bursting with questions, Hermione finally cracked. 'May I ask what you are talking about?' she asked in as respectful a tone as she could manage.

'Ah, of course,' Lord Nathanael said. 'Please allow me to introduce ourselves. We are The Order of the Phoenix.'

Hermione looked at him blankly. 'You are Dumbledore's group?'

'No, girl, we are not.' Lord Samuel said irritably. 'The Order of the Phoenix was not formed by Albus Dumbledore. It was, and still continues to be, an ancient secret organisation formed about six hundred years ago. Our goal is to fight and defeat, or help in defeating, dark lords, and keeping the peace in the magical world.'

'But Voldemort is long gone,' Hermione replied.

'Who,' Lady Margaret scoffed, 'that popinjay? While he was dangerous, Voldemort was nothing but a fledgling, a child, compared to who we are talking about.'

'What does that have to do with Harry?' Hermione asked slowly. 'Are you saying that he is a D – Dark Lord?' her voice hitched over the term. No matter what her relationship with her former friend, the thought of him being evil was too much to bear.

'No, we are not,' Lord Nathanael said heavily. 'Potter is nothing but a pawn here. No, the real Dark Lord that we have been fighting is someone far more insidious than Voldemort, more terrible than Grindelwald and nearly on par with Morgana LeFey herself.'

Hermione took a moment to furiously think this through. 'You can't mean … Nicolas Flamel?' she said incredulously.

Lord Samuel smiled grimly. 'This is one intelligent little girl, you made a good choice, Nathanael.'

'I'm sorry?'

Lord Nathanael stared steadily at Hermione for a very long time. 'I think we should enlighten you on the formation of the Order first, Mrs Weasley.' He eventually said.

Getting comfortable in his chair, he started talking, his gaze far away.

'My ancestor knew Flamel, before he became a famous alchemist. According to his journals, back then, all Nicolas and his wife wanted to do is discover the intricacies of magic and find a way to better mankind. Not just wizard-kind, mind you, but Muggle life as well. Their vision was a noble one; to integrate both wizard- and Muggle-kind.

'But one day, tragedy struck. Their five year old son was kidnapped by a group of Muggles. As you know, at that time, the statue of secrecy hadn't been implemented or conceived. So Muggles knew of magic, and they knew of Flamel's work and standing in society, even if they could not prove it. Nobody knew their motivations for abducting the boy in the first place, but the end result was ... horrifying. The child's mangled and broken body was found a few days later lying on the streets.'

Lord Nathanael took a sip of his whiskey. 'Nicolas and Perenelle took their son's death hard. That one incident changed their very attitudes towards Muggles. You see, the boy was their only son, born to Perenelle after decades of trying. What was worse was that the abduction of the boy at least was ordered for by the king of France himself as he knew of Flamel's work in alchemy. Some say that he desired Flamel's secrets for himself and himself alone. What nobody knows is if he desired the death of the child.

'Then one day, Flamel and his wife just disappeared. Their home was empty, as was Nicolas' laboratory, hastily stripped bare. The Flamels were presumed dead. But that wasn't the end of it.'

Lord Nathanael took a long drag of his cigar and blew the smoke into the air. 'What do you know of the Black Death of the fourteenth century?' he asked from behind the cloud of smoke.

'It was one of the worst pandemics of human history, peaking between thirteen forty eight and thirteen fifty.' Hermione immediately rattled off. 'The cause was said to have been a bacterium called Yersinia pestis –'

'The cause was magical.' Lord Samuel spoke over Hermione's spiel. 'More specifically, Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel,' he paused to look at her shocked expression. 'It was one of Nicolas' first experiments at mass Muggle killing. He identified and isolated the cause of the plague that ravaged Constantinople in The Plague of Justinian in the 6th and 7th centuries and used his skills to modify it. Then, he unleashed it onto an unsuspecting world. What most don't know is that he started it off in France.'

'If it wasn't for the actions of magical Healers, the damage caused by Flamel's actions would have been far graver.' Lord Nathanael said softly.

'If I remember the information I read about Flamel correctly, he would have been a young man when the plague broke out.' Hermione said warily. 'I believe he was born around thirteen twenty seven.'

'You misunderstand, Mrs Weasley.' Lord Nathanael replied. 'Nicolas Flamel, the alchemist was born around thirteen twenty seven. In fact, that is the date he uses as his birthdate as it was the year he made the Stone and drank the Elixir, becoming much younger in the process.' He paused before adding, 'and sterile as well. Nicolas Flamel the person was born about seventy years earlier. In fact, it took people some time to realise that the strange young man was indeed Nicolas himself.'

Another question occurred to Hermione. 'Then why didn't people do something? Surely the Wizard's council would have been able to take care of it.'

Lord Nathanael stretched his mouth into a humourless smile. 'If only. It was years after the incident before anyone even got a hint that Nicolas was behind it. People were too busy doing damage control to investigate the source. Also, Flamel is quite adept at covering his tracks, and as I said before, at that time had become significantly younger, and thus was not easily recognisable. By the time the furore died down somewhat, he made his innocence well established in the eyes of the authority. He is also quite good at taking care of his enemies as well. There were initially quite a few vocal opponents to him, you know. They were quite insistent, publicly, of his guilt and culpability. His reputation back then wasn't so rosy.'

'What happened to them?' Hermione breathed.

Everyone in the room snorted. 'Well, considering that currently he is not met with suspicion and distrust, I think it is quite evident as to what he did to those people.' Lord Nathanael said dryly. 'The deaths were seen as accidental or suicidal. He even managed to pin some on Muggles in order to further his agenda. Later on, he would even use upcoming Dark Wizards to further his schemes, both in France and the rest of Europe. The Order of the Phoenix was formed to combat the threat that he posed all those centuries ago. We,' he waved around the room with his cigar, 'are the only ones left of that Order. Dumbledore's … ah, spinoff was organised to fight the threat that Voldemort presented and hopefully get more people aware of the threat that is Flamel. With that understanding, we helped finance it. Sadly the latter goal was not reached.'

Hermione was silent as she digested this. 'If he was such a threat,' she said slowly, 'then why didn't you try and … you know, take care of him and his wife before?'

'Oh we have tried,' Began Lord Samuel. 'Many, many, times,' he chuckled ruefully. 'But the problem with Flamel is that there is next to nothing that we can do legally. Flamel is far slipperier and more cunning than all of the Malfoys and Blacks put together. Pinning something on him is harder than killing a Nundu with your bare hands. So our only recourse is to assassinate or otherwise kill him. And the problem with that is that Flamel is for all intents and purposes, immortal, and possessing unlimited wealth thanks to that stone of his. What's more, he has kept the object hidden. It is impossible to get that stone away from him to destroy it. Not that we haven't tried …'

'Dumbledore,' Hermione breathed.

'Indeed,' Lord Nathanael nodded. 'He was once Flamel's protégée you know. He was recruited through Grindelwald. Dumbledore was also the best person we ever had the fortune of getting on our side. As unfortunate as it was, that incident with his sister was the best thing to have happened to us.'

'Rita Skeeter's book was true?'

'Rita does have a knack for finding out the best kept secrets. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, Dumbledore was the best person we could have had on our side.' Lord Nathanael continued. 'He even managed to outfox Flamel. He still had the alchemist thinking that he was on his side, even after defeating Grindelwald. Truly a brilliant man, his loss is a major blow. He was the only one who got really close to killing Flamel.'

'You mean the events in my first year at Hogwarts were a setup aimed at destroying Flamel?'

'Indeed,' Lord Nathanael intoned sombrely. 'Well, there was another purpose. We hoped to trap Voldemort as well. Those traps were deliberately engineered to allow a person in, you see, while presenting a decent enough challenge to allay any suspicions. But the minute they obtained the Philosopher's Stone, powerful wards would immediately spring up, sealing all the doors and trapping the thief inside. The Stone was supposed to be "destroyed" in the "struggle" with the thief. What was unexpected was yours, your husband's and Potter's involvement. Dumbledore was actually in a meeting with us. We were going to make our final killing move then. Then the three of you got involved. Albus had no choice but to rush back to the castle in the hopes of rescuing you.

'Till about a few months back, we actually thought that Flamel was finally dead when Dumbledore had the stone destroyed. But alas, it was not to be.' He sighed. 'He had tricked Dumbledore by giving him a fake.'

Hermione looked at the old man for a long moment. 'So you had the Stone, the secret of Flamel's immortality, or you basically had what you thought was the key to his immortality, but instead of destroying it outright, you decided to use it to lure Voldemort so that you could destroy him as well?' seeing Lord Nathanael nod, she continued. 'Not to sound disrespectful, but why hide it in the school then? Weren't you putting your own great-grandson in danger? After all, you had Voldemort inside the castle!'

Lord Samuel cleared his throat. 'Yes, it was a big risk. Looking back on it, we realise the peril that we put the future of our world through, but Dumbledore assured us that Voldemort would not be able to do much. Albus was pretty certain that Voldemort would only focus on the Stone to the exclusion of everything else. Seeing that he had taught the Dark Lord, I would trust Albus' judgement.'

'But – but Harry nearly died once!' Hermione said indignantly. 'Quirrel was able to jinx his broom!'

'We know,' Lord Samuel said ponderously. 'That incident was what told us that Voldemort was inside the school and how he got there. Knowing where he was, Dumbledore made the appropriate steps to ensure that he could not harm the students as we waited for him to make his move.'

'Our initial choice for fighting our war with Flamel, when we realised that he was still alive, was Potter, but now … now, we know what we had suspected but desperately hoped was false. Flamel has sunk his claws into Potter already.'

Hermione looked at the old man shrewdly. 'That's where I come in, isn't it.'

'Yes,' the reply from Lord Samuel was succinct. He gave her an amused look. 'How else did you think that you managed to get to the top of your department so quickly? You were the closest person to Potter, so you will be able to help.' He raised his glass to Lord Nathanael. 'I salute your foresight, Nathanael. If not for you, we would be further behind than where we currently are.'

'I don't see how I could be of any help,' Hermione said bitterly. 'We aren't friends anymore. Ron and I … we did something really horrible. We regret it, we do, but I don't think Harry will be willing to give us the time of the day, let alone listen to us speak.'

Lord Nathanael seemed to ponder this. 'That is …' he paused, waving his cigar as he searched for a word, the expression of sympathy induced on his face through politeness. 'Heartrending. Fortunately for us, we do not plan to have you speak to, or reason with, Potter.'

'However, before we continue any further,' Lord Samuel interjected, trying not to smile at the bland uncaring tone of his companion, 'we need to know where you stand. So, in simple terms; are you in or are you out?'

Hermione looked at the people around her. 'What you say is … incredible.' She began slowly. 'I cannot imagine that Harry is taken so quickly by someone so … dark and … evil. Besides, how do I know that Flamel is as evil as you say? For all I know, you could be making up a plot to bring down a good man.'

The old men and woman made approving noises. 'Well, Albus Dumbledore was much older than Potter is when he was ensnared by Flamel. As to your other question, well, you would be unintelligent if you blindly took our word, Mrs Weasley,' Lord Nathanael answered. 'But we do have proof. And that proof can be verified by outside sources.' He snapped his fingers, causing another House-Elf to appear, carrying two sets of thin files. 'It isn't much,' Lord Nathanael said as the elf handed one to Hermione and the other to the Wizengamot member she realised had yet to introduce himself to her. 'But this is all we have linking Flamel to many events. Namely, other than the Black Death of the fourteenth century, the French and Russian revolutions and the two Muggle World Wars.'

Hermione leafed through the contents rapidly, silently vowing to go through them later on.

'Your opinions, Lord Diagon?' Lord Nathanael's voice broke through Hermione's musing. Starting, she looked at the unnamed Wizengamot member, mouth slightly agape. She had no idea that this was the marquess of Diagon! It explained why he chose to remain quiet and aloof. The marquess was reputed for preferring to stay in the background till the last minute. The eccentric man did not like participating in conversations, nor did he like to be talked to for too long.

'Well, I will have to look through this.' The marquess said idly leafing through the file. 'I shall have an answer soon.'

'Good,' Lord Nathanael said. 'Shall we meet in a week's time then?' Getting nods all around, he continued. 'Excellent. Same place then. I shall inform you of the details.

'Now, before we go, I will require an oath from both of you.' Turning to Diagon, he continued, his tone conciliatorily. 'This is no reflection on you, sir, but to ensure security; both yours and ours.'

The marquess gave a gracious nod. Taking out his wand, he gave the standard oath of secrecy. Once he was done, he gracefully got to his feet. 'Now I am afraid I must be off. The hour grows late.'

'Very well, Lord Diagon,' Lord Nathanael said graciously.

Nodding, the marquess swept out of the room.

At once the attention of all the remaining aristocrats turned to Hermione. 'Your oath, Mrs Weasley,' Lord Archibald said in his gravelly voice, disturbing his impressive walrus moustache.

Taking her wand out, Hermione gave her oath. Once that was done, she left the room without further comment, still mired in deep thought.

Back at home, sitting up on the bed she and Ron shared, Hermione looked through the file given to her.

The documents within, while speculative, did show an interesting set of events that could not be ruled as coincidence. One of the most glaring incidences that nearly exposed his involvement was the French revolution. It was quite suspicious that he was seen as an active member in the Deutscher Magische Gemeinderat, or the German Magical Council, of the Kingdom of Germany just two days before the French Revolution began.

Shortly after that, Flamel was rumoured to have a disagreement with Emperor-elect Franz II just before he left for Britain.

In the decades that followed later, Flamel was relatively quiet. But in the late nineteenth century, sporadic sightings of Flamel with the three Kaisers of the German empire lead to speculation that Flamel was responsible for Kaiser Frederick II's short reign and death as well as the tensions that lead to the outbreak of the First World War.

While Flamel was not directly involved in the Second World War, circumstantial evidence suggested that he was a major influence in the creation of the treaty of Versailles. Hermione even wondered if he was the reason behind the creation of Gavrilo Princip and Adolf Hitler.

His involvement in the Russian revolution and the eventual assassination of Tsar Nicolai and his family was extremely circumspect in comparison.

At every turn, the Order fought the ancient alchemist. Founded on the back of the French Revolution, the organisation had its share of victories as well. The formation of the League of Nations (and later the United Nations) could also be credited to them.

But the battle that they were fighting was a tough one. No matter what they tried, Flamel could not be pinned down. The numerous assassination attempts had all failed spectacularly. What was more, Flamel always managed to find the ones who orchestrated those attempts, always. And he had them all suffer "accidents".

It was a miracle that the current members were actually taking a stand after their latest failed attempt. She supposed that they were hoping to strike a major blow against the alchemist before he found them.

Hermione tiredly rubbed her face. The recent documentation of Flamel's activities showed how, in hindsight, he had Harry working for him. In the past five years alone, almost all of the bills and laws Dumbledore was responsible for that favoured Muggles had slowly been eroded, or were being removed. Chief amongst them (aside from the recently introduced Magical Child Protection Act) was the legislation regarding the Unforgivable Curses. The amendment to the law had been so masterfully done, that few knew that the term "human being" was now replaced with "Witch or Wizard". Essentially, it meant that a person could not be automatically sent to Azkaban for life if he was found guilty of using the Imperius, Cruciatus, or the Avada Kedavra on a Muggle.

Hermione could definitely see the underlying message there. The amendment basically relegated Muggles to the status of beasts. It was sickening.

She was further dismayed to find that the Muggle Protection Act, drafted by Arthur Weasley and sponsored by Dumbledore was also being rendered useless. In a so-called "restructuring" of the Ministry, Arthur Weasley's old department had basically been dissolved while funding had been more focused towards the protection of the magical world from the Muggle world.

Slowly closing the file (which automatically reactivated all the secrecy charms on it) Hermione settled down for the night, her mind whirling as she processed what she had just read. Silently, she wept for her friend. Harry had fallen so far…

The worst bit was that she had to keep the whole thing a secret from Ron. The secrecy charms on the file ensured that. Hopefully, she would be able to tell him everything after the next meeting.

The Marquess of Diagon started off the next meeting of the Order of the Phoenix with a question. 'While I do believe that what you have presented me is true,' he drawled. 'There is one thing I do not understand. Why did the entire Wizengamot vote "yes" to the Magical Child Protection Act considering what you have just told me? If I recall correctly, all of you have heirs that hold seats in that body. Surely if Flamel was the one behind this then the last thing you should be doing is supporting him.'

Hermione silently thought that this was a good question as she expectantly looked at the Order members.

All the old members of the Order looked uncomfortable.

'To begin with,' Lord Nathanael ground out slowly. 'We do not control those votes. Not anymore at least. No, our heirs have that control.'

'Additionally' Lady Margaret continued. 'Even if we did have full influence, we still have to play his game. If Flamel or his wife were to find out that we are his principle enemies; that we are the ones who have worked hard behind the scenes to thwart him for so long, that we are the only ones to stand between him and his goal … he will destroy us and our families. And that was even if we knew that Potter was Flamel's finger puppet at the time of voting. And I assure you, while we suspected that, we did not know. Regardless, we have not shared our knowledge with our heirs yet. They are not ready.'

'Outright opposition would do little at this point,' Lord Samuel spoke up bitterly. 'We are the only ones left who know what Flamel is. So we need to play a far more subtle game here. Unfortunately, Lord Diagon, we aren't getting any younger. And even more unfortunately, he isn't getting any older ... At least not physically.'

'We have to keep a low profile. Flamel has already suspected Dumbledore of attempting to kill him. He would be stupid not to.'

'I still can't get over how he managed to keep Flamel thinking that he was on his side while simultaneously going against him.' Lord Nathanael marvelled.

'And finally,' Lord Samuel remarked, ignoring his companion's waffling. 'Before we found out who was behind that bit of legislature, we actually thought it was a wise decision to make. It would allow us to fully separate from the Muggle world, and promote some unity amongst ourselves. We also would have lesser work to do in keeping the existence of magic a secret. That translates to cuts in taxes. Eventually, we saw this as a way to possibly unite the worlds together somewhere in the future.'

'So Lord Diagon,' Lord Nathanael said finally. 'Are you in?'

The marquess stared at the folder for a long moment before finally nodding his head in consent.

Hermione on the other hand was appalled. 'You mean you support that piece of – of rubbish!' she practically shrieked.

The aristocrats all looked at her disapprovingly. 'Yes we did, and we still do,' Lord Nathanael said in clipped tones. 'Despite who is actually behind it, it is fundamentally a good idea. I wouldn't call it fully moral, but it's the best we can do. How Muggles treat magical children is criminal.'

'But there has to be a better way,' Hermione spoke up. 'All Muggles aren't like this! There are quite a few decent ones!' Dredging up her courage, she spoke up. 'I don't think we really need Potter. I have quite a few good ideas for modernising the Magical world. With your collective influence, we can break Flamel's power and then change the world so that people like him don't come ever again.'

Hermione paused to drink in the shocked expressions around her, smiling internally. With her ideas (formulated over the past week as she thought on the information presented to her) and their financial backing and political influence, Flamel's and Potter's power would be broken forever. Not only that, but her and her family's status would be elevated. Bill, Charlie and the rest would have no choice but to come crawling back.

Lord Samuel was the first to crack. He started laughing quietly, his shoulders shaking so violently that he looked like he was drilling a road. Ancient throats creaked as the rest gave in and followed him.

'Oh, you are serious.' Lord Archibald, who had been quiet all this time, said in a gravelly voice as he wiped his eyes.

'Yes, I am,' Hermione said, miffed. 'I can deliver. I am the smartest witch in my generation. I passed with an O in all my N.E.W.T.s. Something that Potter did not do. We don't really need him.'

The Order looked at her blandly. 'Let me put it this way, Mrs Weasley,' Lord Nathanael finally spoke up. 'Harry James Potter-Black, the Earl Potter, Earl Slytherin, and Baron Black, is the youngest chief warlock of the Wizengamot, as far as I can remember and for longer than I have lived. And trust me, I have lived a very long life and have an excellent memory. Not only that, but he happens to hold four noble titles, three of which are separate. He can claim direct descent to two of the Founders of Hogwarts. Together with mine and Lord Diagon's House, you get the descendants of all four founders united together.

'Even if you overlook his ancestry and pedigree, there is the simple fact that he is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, and has, at the age of sixteen, managed to defeat a Dark Lord more than fifty years his senior.' Seeing Hermione about to interrupt him, he spoke over her. 'I have reviewed Pensieve memories of the Aurors who investigated the scene of the battle a few hours later. I have also read the reports. An impressive amount of magic was thrown around, both from Lord Potter, and from Voldemort. To think that a sixteen year old could do so much …' he inhaled deeply, coughing into his handkerchief. 'He is ridiculously powerful.' He finally said, getting himself back in control. 'I personally doubt that Albus Dumbledore would be a match for him even if you match them up at the same age. I have even talked to Griselda Marchbanks. Not only did Potter, contrary to your assumption, score perfectly in all his N.E.W.T.s, but he also managed to get extra credit in Transfiguration, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. Moreover, Madam Marchbanks was impressed with him. Impressed! The stodgiest, hard to impress examiner in the board of examiners, a person who has always criticised everyone she has examined in her entire career was positively raving about Potter's performance in his N.E.W.T.s! Even Dumbledore did not get such praise from her.

'Now that is what he has to offer us. You on the other hand,' he gave her a look that could be interpreted as apologetic, 'are just a first-generation witch. Yes, you are intelligent, and I do not doubt that you have great plans, but you have no idea about the traditions of the wizarding world. While nobody in this room has anything personally against change and new ideas, there is a way to do these things. You will get nothing changed by ramming new ideas down people's throats and ignoring their traditions. It's just not feasible. You also have minimal influence. Potter not only has political capital, but he is revered in the country for getting rid of Voldemort.

'We have to be realistic here. You know Potter, so you know how we can get him over to our side. We need him on our side. Once we have his popularity and reputation, we will be able to get change implemented faster.'

Hermione looked at the lot of them sceptically. 'I guess,' she finally said grudgingly. While she internally bristled at the words spoken to her, she could, in hindsight, see where they were coming from.

Lord Nathanael smiled. 'Now that we have everyone on board, I suggest we get started.' His tone turned brisk. 'Firstly, Mrs Weasley, I would suggest that you cease your pursuit of repealing the legality of polygamy. That law is far too old and mired in complexities. You will not get anywhere trying to strike it off nor will you get many supporters. Are we clear?'

'But that law is outdated and needs to go!' Hermione said indignantly. 'It is for the good of the people!'

Lord Nathanael tiredly rubbed his forehead.

'Changing that law in any way will not benefit society.' He shook his head. 'Potter only mentioned that fact to you openly so that you would be distracted. It seems that he knows how your mind works. He knows very well indeed.'

Lord Diagon internally smirked as he saw the dumbfounded expression on Hermione's face. For all her intelligence, the girl had the social skills of a particularly dim Pygmy Puff, as far as he was concerned.

'I assume that you now see the wisdom in dropping your fruitless endeavour?' Getting an absent nod, Lord Nathanael continued 'Good, further instructions will be sent to you later on. We shall introduce you to a colleague of ours then.'

'That went well,' Lord Samuel said dryly as the door closed behind newest members to their organisation.

Lord Nathanael snorted. 'At least we did not have to remind her of her place. Imagine how much more difficult she would have been if we were forced to do that. Nothing is worse than an uppity pawn. Who does she think she is to try and dictate terms to us?'

'It's not right, I tell you,' Lord Archibald rumbled. 'We are using children to fight our battles.'

'True, but it is necessary. Flamel, for one, has upped the ante. We are at a major disadvantage here. We do not know what his angle is either.'

'She has just proven herself to be a loose cannon,' Lord Archibald said darkly. 'I have a bad feeling about her.'

'Then she will have to be watched.' Lady Margaret said matter-of-factly. 'It was good that you managed to deflect her … enthusiasm, Nathanael. But she is a strong willed one. I predict that a time will come when we will have to forcibly remind her that it is because of us that she is in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the first place, and that we can just as easily boot her out.'

Cameras flashed as Harry cut the ribbon officially opening the Home for Magical Children.

As soon as Harry had shared his idea for Muggleborn children with Flamel, the two of them started on making the act viable before even suggesting it to the Wizengamot. To that end, Harry had enlisted the help of his friends, Neville, Susan and Hannah. Harry had also spoken to his in-laws as well as Draco and Narcissa Malfoy.

Strictly speaking, there was no such thing as "Dark" or "Light". As Flamel had once said, 'There were far better ways to describe someone's political leanings than a vague reference on the amount of light present.' The terms generally preferred in the political circle were "Traditionalist", "Conservative" or "Liberal". Traditionalists were those who preferred to stick to the traditions of the wizarding world exclusively. They had no patience for Muggle ideas or Muggle technology, preferring to violently reject and ridicule them. A good chunk of Ancient and Noble Houses comprised of that group.

It was a complete coincidence that most of the Traditionalists had Death Eater connexions.

Liberals, on the other hand, were on the opposite end of the spectrum. Generally comprising of the newer families, they tended to embrace new ideas, preferring them over the old. More often than not, the source for those ideas came from the Muggle world.

The one thing these two factions had in common was their limited number.

The rest were the Conservatives. Walking the middle path, this group upheld magical tradition and cherished the culture. At the same time, they weren't averse to modernisation. To that end, they also did not mind Muggle technology and ideas, provided that those could be used with magic or fit in with their traditions. Anything else was considered unimportant and useless. So while they found automobiles fascinating, and modern lights ingenious, they really didn't care much for the television and computer.

And the cell phone wasn't even worth considering. Charmed mirrors had been in existence for much longer, and the Floo was plenty convenient. Of course, nothing beat owl post. One did not have to worry about silly things like stamps and remembering the exact address.

The Conservatives were further divided into two. One group was slightly more traditional, and the other a tad more liberal. This internal division was the main reason why the Conservatives did not dominate.

The traditionalists and the traditional conservatives were rather easy to tackle. They loved the idea of further separating the magical and Muggle worlds. Future generations would be fully steeped in wizarding culture and traditions, there would be no outsiders, and no concessions made for Muggleborns as those would simply cease to exist after being fully integrated.

The liberal faction of the conservatives was slightly harder to tackle. In the end, the one point that got them on board was their low numbers. Most of them, like Mungan McKinnon, were all that was left of their family. The chance to ensure the continuity of their line, to make sure that the family name did not die out was something that they grasped with both hands. It also helped that Harry spun it properly. Using his own experiences as an excuse, he proposed that taking the children away was a good thing in the long run. Additionally, he played upon the unrest currently going on in the Muggle world. His main theory was that it was entirely possible for the Muggles to start off another war, and that could possibly expose the magical world. And that risk was significantly higher if more Muggles were allowed to know about them. While they could not stop informing the Muggle leaders, they could limit the number of non-important Muggles knowing.

Harry also used his supposed relationship with Dumbledore shamelessly to get additional sympathy. The world did not know about his true feelings towards the man, and he had no qualms about manipulating that.

The liberals were the hardest to convince. But Flamel handled them well. Harry had no idea what the alchemist had done, but he was certain that it was a combination of blackmail, bribery and other methods that were best not aired out.

But the real victory was the Muggleborn faction. In a burst of inspiration, Harry had proposed to include Muggleborn of various areas of merit into the Wizengamot about a few months after he had claimed his seats.

Knowing that it was too soon for him to propose something so sweeping, he asked Augusta Longbottom to make the initial proposal. Using his fame and celebrity, he endorsed the idea to the press and the general public. They ate it up.

In the end, even if the proposal to include Muggleborns was met with a lot of protest initially, the Wizengamot came to the agreed majority. This was riding on a lot of factors; the first was Harry's celebrity. In supporting this proposal and slyly dropping hints now and then, Harry had made a negative vote very hard on the Wizengamot politically.

But that was only a small factor. The major reasons why the motion went through was that the main opponents to the idea could not vote against it as their position was very delicate. With the Dark Lord truly dead and their biggest ally in the pocket of the Boy Who Lived, making any moves that were seen as supportive towards Voldemort's creed was inadvisable. Additionally, most of them owed the Black family debts.

The rest were more than happy to vote for the motion as they either were Dumbledore's allies and had heard great things about Harry Potter from the grand old man or were generally in favour of equality and inclusion.

Once that fell through, Harry and Nicolas quietly influenced the selection process so that they comprised of those who were either indebted to them or had similar sympathies. After all, to get far in any world, you needed to embrace the culture. Not doing that would only serve to make you an outsider.

Chief amongst them was Healer Anderson. Not only had the Healer wholly taken in the traditions of the magical world, but Harry's rather generous donations to the man's many research projects had more than ensured the man's loyalty.

The result of all of that was the unanimous voting in of the act. Replacing Amelia Bones (who had retired about a year after the war saying that she was done with politics and the Ministry) with Pius Thicknesse helped lower the resistance the Ministry would have to the law.

At the same time, a group led by Narcissa Malfoy and Alana Greengrass took care of the logistics.

As the family was now fully extinct and the only possible claimants were the Malfoys (who were more than happy to donate it for the cause) the ancestral house of the Lestrange family and the surrounding property were converted to house the incoming children. With the exception of one other large property located in Scotland (which was also converted for the same purpose) all the properties and houses the family owned were liquidated and all legal artefacts auctioned off. The proceeds, along with the sizeable fortune of the family, were used to fund the newly christened Magical Child Welfare Department.

Bellatrix, Rodolphus, and Rabastan would be rolling in their graves, thought Harry as he smiled at the cameras aimed at him, triggering off another round of flashes.

Turning around to look at the converted manor, Harry ruminated that perhaps the new use the place would be put through might meet their approval. After all, they weren't exactly sane.

Harry had also ensured that the department would remain well funded. In addition to placing strict controls, monitoring the spending of the department, additional funds were also arranged for by keeping those properties the Lestranges owned for profit. The large vineyard, the legal investments and the small magical menagerie would allow the department to get an income as well.

Additionally, the Ministry had been slimmed down. Departments such as the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office were absorbed into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with the members of the Magical Law Enforcement Squad while other departments such as the Centaur Liaison Office were removed entirely. Not only did this streamline the Ministry and make things faster, but the money saved from those actions enabled the Ministry to introduce tax cuts and also further bolster the funds of the Department of Child Welfare, which would work closely with the Auror Office and the Obliviator Squad.

Harry smirked as he finished his speech. Basically a rehash of what he had told the Wizengamot, he added in a few more heartrending episodes designed to play with the emotions of the people. As much as he hated to do so, he used the memories of his own horrific childhood to win the sympathies of the common folk.

Of course, he had not achieved universal popularity. There were, predictably, quite a few people not happy with him. These included a majority of the Muggleborns, as well as a few witches and wizards who had married the Muggles they had fallen in love with.

There had been quite a few protests, with people shouting slogans while holding placards and having sit-ins in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and currently right now outside the perimeter of the new home (Harry could see them if he strained his eyes – the place was pretty big).

Those people could be worked upon, though. It was a simple matter of perseverance and exploiting the unrest currently going on in the Muggle world.

Harry waved before he stepped off the podium. The law was fully in effect, and squads would be dispatched to take the first batch of children during the night. Muggleborn children who were of Hogwarts-attending age were currently exempt, except in special cases, where it was either found that the Muggle parents weren't treating their magical children right or if the child in question specifically requested to be taken away but that would soon change. Once things settled down, they too would no longer need to go back to their odious Muggle guardians and be mistreated.

Child abuse, as far as the British magical world was concerned, was going to be truly unheard of.

And that, boys and girls, is Chapter 36, with, as far as I am concerned, a completely original view about the "protections" guarding the Philosopher's Stone. I don't know if you have noticed, but Dumbledore's protections are quite similar to Voldemort's protections around the Locket Horcrux. They don't offer much resistance going in, but once you are in, it is harder to come out. Voldemort has his army of now pissed off and awake Inferi as well as a lovely potion that will make you wish you were dead, and Dumbledore has an addictive mirror which shows you reliving your wildest fantasies all the while you try and figure out where the damned object that you are searching for is. Should you still manage to get the Stone, I bet that he would have a ward making escape nigh impossible.

In case anyone is wondering, "Amaranthine" is two things; 1. a weird colour which I will categorically state is actually purple and 2. A word that means "Everlasting,". In case you are wondering how I know this, it's because of Enya's song by the same name. What a voice! Both she and Karen Matheson (the lead singer of the band Capercaillie - you should listen to them) sound so ... divine ... *sigh*

On another note, while I do appreciate reviews, and have no problems with unsigned reviews (as long as they are written by coherent rational humans), there is one thing that is quite frustrating. And that is when said unsigned reviews raise points that I so want to answer, but can't because there is no way to do so. So if you have a question, do drop a link or something so I can email you the answers. Or alternatively, leave a signed review, so I can PM you.

Then we have people who leave signed reviews, but disable their Private Messaging feature. Why would you do it? You raise an interesting point, I have an answer for those points, but I cannot tell you because I cannot message you! So, out of honest, unadulterated, straightforward curiosity, why?

By the way, I refuse to answer reviews in Author's notes (those are only for me, so there *blows raspberry*)

Well, I am off, got a big day ahead of me tomorrow (it is going to be my silver jubilee. God, I feel so old! Twenty five! Time flies...)

37. Flight

Rosaline "Rose" Harris woke up early to a dreary Sunday morning. The weather was typical at this time in November, with low pregnant clouds hanging overhead as it drizzled lightly outside, the entire tableau barely illuminated by the hidden rising sun. Stretching, she got out of bed to prepare for the day. She could hear her son, Darren, downstairs, probably polishing off the breakfast his girlfriend had made.

Pulling her dressing gown tightly around her thin frame, she made her way downstairs and sat down at the small table in the kitchen, cooing at her grandson as she did so.

As she had her bowl of oatmeal, Rose had to admit that her son had changed over the past seven years, while she had been … away. From the letters and few short visits, she gleaned that he had managed to pull his act together at school and pass with decent marks, earning a scholarship in the University of Leeds for a course in Fine Arts.

He had put in a lot of work for his degree, holding two jobs at the same time to pay for his studies and accommodation. It was in the university that Darren had met Linda, who at that time, was studying for her B.A. in Cinema and Photography.

According to them, they both had an instant sort of attraction to each other from the first time they had met. Being in similar financial situations, the two had helped the other out and had even pooled their resources to rent a place to stay.

Rose sighed as she contemplated her son. Before, she doubted that Darren would have been mature enough to settle down at such a young age. While he had not married his girlfriend yet (apparently young couples these days instead of marrying, entered an "open relationship") he was still committed to the girl and his son. She knew that at that age, most men would leave. That he was willing to be in his son's life and try and work on his relationship with Linda was a mark of how far along he had come from the spoilt brat he was as a child. His decision to take things slow and not rush into a marriage also enforced that opinion.

Rose herself had also changed. Before, she admitted to herself that she was not a pleasant woman. Not only was she a petty, jealous and bitter person, but she also suffered what her psychologist called an inferiority complex.

It was only after she had hit rock bottom did she realise the amount of damage she had done to her son by being what she was. It had taken a year of intensive counselling before she started to improve and ask for forgiveness from her son.

It had taken Darren a few weeks and support from the new friends he had made after his mother had gone away to give that forgiveness. Once it was given, however, both mother and son had progressed in leaps and bounds.

By the time Rose was able to join her son, four years afterward, the two of them were unrecognisable from the people they had been. Darren was now working for a firm that designed websites while Linda was doing her masters in Journalism.

The house that they were living in now was not as large as the house Darren spent his childhood in, but it was far more spacious than the back-to-back house he and Linda were living in before. They were lucky enough to chance upon it as the previous owner, a friend of a friend of Darren's, wanted to sell it as quickly as possible.

The house was attached to a small grocery shop which Rose ran while taking care of her grandson, bringing in extra money to pay the bills.

However, while Rose was content with her new life, she was not truly happy.

The reason for that was another boy. While she was not that boy's biological mother, she had been given the task of raising the boy as her own after her sister had died.

However, she had not been able to do so. While she had spoilt her son silly, and was the main reason Darren had grown into a bully, she had done worse to her nephew while watching with glee from the side as her son tormented the poor child.

"Child Abuser": the term never failed to make her cringe in shame. Rose found herself wishing that she could go back in time and fix it all. Or at the very least, seek forgiveness (even if she did not deserve it) from her nephew.

At times like these, she wondered what he was doing now. Was he happy? Successful? Did he have a good job? Was there anyone special in his life?

'Well, I am off,' Linda said as she picked up her book-bag. 'That assignment isn't going to complete itself.' The short girl leaned over and plucked her son from his chair.

'Who's a good boy, who's a good boy,' she cooed as she jiggled the baby, wincing as the ten month old tot grabbed a fistful of her long fair hair in his chubby sticky hand. 'Now, Jason, let go of mummy's hair,' she said firmly as she freed the imprisoned lock, much to the infant's dismay and the other adults' amusement.

'Somehow, I don't think he appreciates being talked to like that,' Darren said wryly as Linda placed the baby down.

'Oh, pish-posh,' Linda replied. 'He can't really understand what I am saying.' Looking at her baby she continued, speaking in a low soothing voice. 'At this age, he responds to the soothing voice of his mummy. After all,' she tickled the baby's stomach. 'I periodically read aloud from my textbooks when I am rocking him to sleep, and he doesn't mind.' She pulled a face, making the baby giggle and babble at her in response, waving his arms. 'See?' she said triumphantly in a normal voice as she deftly moved her hair away from his reach.

Darren snorted. 'I won't be surprised if his first words are something related to cameras.' Leaning towards the infant he said in his talking-to-babies voice. 'Can you say, "Aperture", Jason? Come on, "Ap-er-ture".' The baby babbled in response.

Linda rolled her eyes, 'Funny. Now, I am getting late.' Pecking Darren on the cheek, she bade goodbye to her Rose and her son, and made her way towards the door.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

'I wonder who that is,' Linda said as she approached the door. Twisting the knob, she opened it to find a man impeccably dressed in a suit that screamed wealth and standing.

The man, while tall, had average looks. Watery blue eyes stared back at her underneath impeccably combed blond hair. His face could be forgotten in a trice, just lost in a crowd. It wasn't an ugly face, but it was something that was easily forgettable.

But the unremarkable features were more than compensated for by way the man seemed to fill the room. Perhaps it was the confident way he held himself, or the set of his shoulders, but he oozed power. This man was someone to be obeyed, a person whom nobody could afford to forget.

Linda, an assertive person herself, almost unconsciously stepped back as she stammered a question out. 'Y – Yes, how may I help you?'

'Linda Campbell?' smooth and cultured, his voice was also something that could not be forgotten. Seeing her nod he took out a badge and showed it to her 'I am from The Security Service, ma'am. May I come inside? I have something that I wish to speak to you about.'

'What's going on here?' the voice of her boyfriend broke her from her thoughts. Turning around, she saw his beefy muscular form framing the hallway, looking wary, a frown marring his broad face.

'Mr Harris?' Seeing Darren nod, the stranger continued. 'I hope you don't mind, but we do have matters of great import to discuss with you and your, ah, partner.'

By the time Linda turned back to the mysterious man, she found that he was already inside. Smiling graciously (and showing a row of impossibly perfect white teeth) the man stepped further into the room. Not giving her or her dumbfounded husband time to recover, he gracefully walked into the drawing room.

By the time the young couple had managed to collect themselves and move to the room, the man was already sitting regally on Darren's favourite armchair as if it were a throne as he idly studied the room with a polite interest.

'Not to be rude or anything,' Darren spoke up. 'But who are you and what the hell are you doing here?'

'He says he is with the eM Eye Five, dear.' Linda said softly, while giving her boyfriend a look. At times, Darren could be so … confrontational, in a caveman sort of way.

'What's going on here?' All three individuals looked up to see Rose at the doorway, a look of confusion on her face.

'As I have explained to your girlfriend, Mr Harris' the seated individual drawled, 'I am with The Security Service.'

Still frowning, Darren said rather aggressively. 'I heard that bit loud and clear, mate. I don't really care what organisation you come from, but it is good manners to introduce yourself. Especially when you come into someone's house, and even more so after you know their names.'

The man looked faintly amused, as both Rose and Linda gave Darren scandalised looks.

'Are we talking about introductions?' He grimaced dramatically. 'My, my, you like diving into the prickly topics first, don't you, Mr Darren Harris? Or is it Dudley Dursley?'

Smirking at the paling faces of both mother and son, he continued. 'But where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself ... Sir Harry James Potter-Black, The Earl Potter, at your service.' As he mockingly inclined his head forward, his features seemed to melt and change.

Linda gawped at the man, disbelieving, as his features morphed in front of her eyes. Blond hair turned a deep, impossibly glossy black. Years seemed to slip off his face as it took on a haughty aristocratic look, the cheekbones becoming higher and more prominent and the nose straighter.

Whoever thought that Brad Pitt was the most beautiful man on the planet had not seen this man, Linda thought breathlessly as she looked into clearest, brightest and most vibrant green eyes she had ever seen.

If she thought the man was a commanding presence at first, it was nothing compared to what he seemed to be now. The only thing marring his great good looks was a thin, faint scar on his forehead. And that scar didn't do much to detract from his looks. In fact, the lightning shape (a very curious shape for a scar) only complimented it, almost as if he would not be who he is without that scar.

'Ha – Harry?'

'Hello, Duddy,' the man, now identified as Harry replied with a sneer on his face. 'Lost weight, I see.' Looking at Linda, he continued. 'And you are in a relationship too. Who'd have thought that someone would be willing to go out with you in the first place? Much less reproduce.'

'And dear Petunia,' backlit verdant eyes rested on the older woman. 'You were let out rather early, I hear.' While his voice was pleasant, the expression on his face was anything but.

The woman in question nodded hesitantly. 'For good behaviour,' she added nervously.

Linda finally snapped out of her daydream. Quickly processing the words exchanged before, she gasped, unknowingly interrupting her mother-in-law as she was about to try apologising. 'So you're Harry Potter?'

She knew of her Darren's troubled past, of course. He had confessed as such to her after they had started going out. Linda had been shocked initially, but eventually had forgiven him for his transgressions. He was but a child at that time. Additionally he was filled with regret at what he had done. She could still see the pain in his eyes at what he had done. In fact, he had also, with her help and encouragement, had made amends with all those kids he had bullied.

But that all paled in comparison to what he had done to his cousin. Or she supposed, her soon-to-be cousin-in-law, should she marry Darren (she was never that good at understanding relations and the terms given to various relatives, being an orphan and the only one of her family). Darren, for that was what he was to her, had told her everything he had done to his cousin. The shame he felt as he confessed was a visceral thing.

After all, he had changed his name legally to get away from it all.

Instead of answering her, Harry gave a contemptuous look at Dudley. 'Told her everything, have you? Oh, this is not going to end well.'

'Harry, we're sorry,' the woman once known as Petunia Dursley whispered, her words heartfelt and broken.

'Sorry?' Harry looked at her oddly, apparently taken off guard. His long-fingered hands twitched infinitesimally.

'The way we treated you … it wasn't right. I had no right doing what I did.' Petunia began. She had pictured the day that this moment would come. She had even practised what she was going to say.

'But you have to understand, Harry.' She looked pleadingly at the boy. 'It wasn't that I hated you, or my sister. I hated what was inside of you. I hated magic. Before we found out that Lily was magical, the two of us were close. We used to do so many things together.' She sighed. 'But once that letter came, we were separated. My parents favoured Lily over me for what she could do. Magic tore my sister away from me, Harry. It took her life, her future. I could never make amends with her because of magic. It also was the reason why my parents didn't like me as much. I didn't – didn't want it in the family anymore. Can you blame me for that, Harry?' Beseechingly, she looked into her nephew's almond shaped green eyes; Eyes which were just like her sister's.

But at the same time, those eyes were different. The warmth (so like what she remembered in Lily's eyes) that was there when Harry was just a boy was no longer present. They were now cold. And as his lips curled into a sneer, she could see the cruelty coming out. Petunia shuddered. Those emotions looked so alien.

'Can I blame you for that?' Harry repeated incredulously. 'Fuck yeah,' rage filled his face as he continued. 'You took money that was meant for my upkeep and used it for your selfish desires. Not only did it benefit you and your fat husband, but your filthy waste of space of a son as well. All I got was a fucking cupboard under the stairs as a bedroom, hand-me-downs that never fit me for clothes, coat hangers for presents, an unending list of chores, ridicule and scorn from you and your husband and broken sellotaped glasses. And what did this fat lump get?' he tossed his head towards Dudley. 'Two bedrooms, not less than thirty presents every birthday, Christmas, Easter, and whatever odd occasion you could think of, no work whatsoever, and, oh yes, one mustn't forget, free reign to bully me and beat me up. And when he made a mistake, frame me for what he did.'

'Can I blame you for that,' he scoffed quietly. Taking a deep breath he calmed down. 'You always had this lovely penchant for blaming others for the crap you did, didn't you, Petunia?' he sneered again. 'First it was the freak of a sister because she was born with something you didn't have. Then it's the freak of a nephew because he was just a defenceless child. Now, it's magic, and your parents. Merlin, when will the rubbish ever stop? Those Muggles definitely gave you quite a good deal too didn't they? Seven years for the decade of hell you put me through … what a fair trade! And they couldn't even do that properly. They had to cut it down to five, because you were "well behaved".'

Dudley opened his mouth to interject, but Harry stopped him with a raised hand. 'I don't give a fuck about you and your apologies or whatever it is that you have to say. Nor do I care to hear about how I should speak to your "wonderful loving mother". I have come here on other business.' Composing himself, he continued, adopting an official tone. 'Mrs Rosaline Harris, and Mr Darren Harris, formerly known as Mrs Petunia Dursley and Mr Dudley Dursley of Number five Armley Grange Oval, Leeds, West Yorkshire, you have been found in the possession of a magical child, one Jason Harris.

'According to the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act, introduced three months back, no Muggle is allowed to have possession of a magical child. Any and all magical children found in a Muggle household are to be taken and integrated into the Magical world.' He paused to let the shock sink down.

'Normally,' he continued, still smirking, 'As the Muggle family in question generally doesn't know about the magical world, a memory wipe is enough for the job. However, you lot happen to be aware of magic. So a memory wipe is quite frankly out of the question. Additionally, pursuant to the accord the Wizengamot had reached with you, Petunia Dursley, in the year two thousand and four, that in exchange for not being thrown in wizarding prison, nor being presented in front of the Wizengamot for a trial for your crimes against a minor, one Harry James Potter-Black, you would be put under observation and your life sentence in Azkaban be suspended on the condition that you not be found guilty of breaking wizarding law. Provided, of course, that said law is no more than a month old, at the very least.

'Should you be found guilty of breaking magical law, however, the original conviction is to be enforced. Again, this time without a trial as you waived that benefit originally. As you have been found guilty of breaking one of these laws, namely the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act, you are, henceforth, under arrest and sentenced to life in Azkaban.'

'Under whose authority?' Linda demanded, standing up. No matter what her boyfriend or the woman she looked up to as a mother-figure had done to this man, there was no way in hell that anyone was taking her precious baby away.

'Under the authority of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot of the Magical United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland,' Harry smoothly replied, still seated as he lazily regarded Linda through his heavy-lidded eyes.

'And who is this person?' Dudley demanded aggressively, equally protective of his mother and his child.

'Me.' Harry gaily replied, smiling widely. 'I am the equivalent of the President of the Supreme Court in this fair country. Anyway,' he poked a finger into his ear. 'Aurors, move in.'

The Muggles did not have any chance to react to this odd declaration as suddenly, a man and a woman appeared out of thin air. In perfect synchrony, the two immediately levelled their wands, sending twin jets of light at both Petunia and Linda.

Ropes appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around both the women and causing them to topple to the floor.

Seeing his wife and mother in this state, Dudley lunged at his cousin. Over the years, he had lost a significant amount of weight, eating right and working out in the gym. He had also paid the bills by participating in local boxing matches, so he no longer was the obese cousin that Harry knew, but a fast, albeit large man.

However, Harry was no slouch either. The rituals he had done on his body, while not as powerful and permanent as their dark counterparts had long term benefits. With regular work, they enhanced and helped the body, keeping it fit and fast no matter the age. So, while Dudley was fast, Harry was faster.

By the time Dudley could even take two steps, Harry had his fake wand out.

'Crucio,'

Dudley crumpled mid-step and was writhing on the ground, screaming as pain lanced through his body.

Harry ended the curse, breathing heavily. He wasn't worried about performing the curse in front of the two Aurors. The two he had selected when he had heard about his relatives were sympathetic to his cause. Besides, the amendment he had slipped in allowed him to use it on Muggles.

'Looks like she was actually right,' Harry said softly as an Auror came up to bind his cousin. 'You really have to mean it.'

Meanwhile the second Auror had gone to get the baby, emerging from the kitchen, cooing softly at the now sleeping baby.

'No!' Linda screamed. 'You can't do this!'

'You will find that we can,' Harry replied lightly. 'In fact, as you can see, we are doing this right now. Don't worry; you won't remember a thing after we erase your memories. Georgiana here,' he nodded to the female Auror who was holding the baby. 'Is quite good with her memory charms, you know.'

'You won't stop people in general asking questions,' Dudley said hoarsely, weakly struggling with his bindings. 'They will notice when we no longer have a baby with us.'

Harry laughed. 'You actually think that we didn't do our research?' he shook his head. 'Not only are we going to make you forget about your son, but we have already taken steps to magically erase his existence from every Muggle record. And that includes photographs, both digital and regular, birth certificates, passports, and the minds of others. Not that there are that many people who will be affected here.' He extracted a disproportionately large folder from an inside pocket and opened it. 'After all, Linda here has no family or relatives, you have kept no contact with your Aunt Marge and the three of you generally keep to yourself with practically no social life aside from a few friends that you have made in the University, and they barely keep in touch. You are basically loners. Hell, if I circulated a rumour tomorrow that you lot were secret spies for the Koreans, people would believe it.'

Taking the baby from the female Auror, Harry strode out, never looking back.

Jason Harris was one of the first confirmed Muggleborns to be taken under the new law. When the history of his biological father came to light, there was no way that Harry was going to pass up the chance to come around personally.

Apparating with the baby to the now open Home, he handed the tot over to one of the workers, who gently took over, posing for a picture on the way.

There was a relatively low chance of him having the baby in his house as first preference was given to older applicants. But if, by some chance, Jason ended up being a part of Harry's family, Harry swore to himself that he would not ever hold the boy's father or grandparents against him. He was not Snape or his aunt.

Speaking of which, he had someone to personally escort. Waving at the press once more, he left the grounds, Apparating away.

Coming out of the fireplace of the office of the Warden of Azkaban, about an hour later, he swept down to the main entrance of the prison, and out to the pier, looking expectantly at the sea and the distant outline of the mainland.

Not a moment later, a boat came into view, containing two very apprehensive looking Aurors and one terrified Muggle.

'Hello, Derek, Charles,' Harry greeted the pair of Aurors as he stepped from the boat and onto the pier.

'Lord Potter,' Derek replied, a look of awe crossing his face that Harry knew was due to a combination of speaking to someone as famous as him and at the fact that someone like him knew the name of a junior Auror.

Legilimency had its uses. And his probes were too light to be noticed by regular Occlumens. He wondered how he would fare against an expert, though.

'I was coming here anyway for my yearly inspection of the prison,' Harry continued after it was clear that the men weren't going to say anything. 'So I thought I would see for myself how you Aurors operate.'

His words caused both men to straighten. Not only was Harry Potter accompanying them, but Harry Potter, the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was overseeing what they would be doing. There would no room for error.

Harry stood, quietly amused, as the two Aurors practically manhandled a sobbing and struggling Petunia to the gates.

'Please,' she pleaded at one point, looking at him imploringly. 'I had no idea about the law change! You cannot arrest me!'

'That is not the fault of the Ministry,' Harry replied coldly his eyes standing out like twin beacons in the gloom of Azkaban. 'Notices were published in the Daily Prophet. You should have read the paper.'

'But I don't get that!' Petunia screeched in reply, straining against the manacles holding her.

'Again, that is not our fault.' Harry was unmoved. 'You should have subscribed.'

'Move along, Muggle!' Derek pompously said with a sneer, propelling her through the gates and into the entrance hall.

Harry casually strolled in, watching as the Aurors processed the new prisoner. Petunia was openly crying by the time her photograph was being taken.

She gave a small shriek of surprise when one of the human prison guards changed her clothes with a switching spell.

Her sobbing stopped immediately as terror overcame her when she felt the presence of the approaching dementors. Like her husband before her, the magic in the manacles was enough to allow her to see the terrible forms of the demons coming towards her.

Picking up on the Aurors' nervousness at not being well-versed in casting the Patronus charm, Harry kindly conjured his own Patronus. The very solid looking form of Prongs burst out and cantered around the wizards, gazing at the dementors challengingly.

Rolling his eyes, the human guard irritably addressed the dumbstruck Aurors. 'Yes, yes, Lord Potter can conjure a Patronus. Even if it is the first time I have seen it, I understand that he has been doing so for a very long time. Now could you please stop gawking? I am sure you have to report back to your superiors now.'

'Y – Yes sir,' Charles stuttered out.

'For how long have you been producing a Patronus, if you don't mind me asking, sir?' Derek said, looking curiously at Harry.

'Oh not long,' Harry replied good-naturedly. 'Since I was in my Third-Year at Hogwarts.' Seeing the looks he was getting, he continued modestly, 'I had plenty of incentive then. The dementors affected me greatly then when they were guarding the castle. So I had to learn. I am sure anyone would learn quickly given those kind of circumstances.'

'You learnt how to cast the Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen and that too in less than a year?' Now it was the guard's turn to be surprised.

'Well, yes,' Harry replied slightly self-consciously. 'Again, I had major incentive. The teacher was quite effective too, you know. He used a method that I doubt could be properly replicated with the same results.' Harry did not mention that he no longer needed to cast a Patronus as the demons no longer affected him. He had found out early enough that he could appear invisible to them, both mentally and emotionally.

'What method did he use?' Auror Charles said slowly.

'That is a story for another time, Charles,' Harry replied with a warm practised smile. 'Now, I believe that we have a prisoner to … well, imprison.' He grinned at the flimsy joke as the other three chortled sycophantically. Nicolas had advised making these sort of jokes around subordinates when giving him pointers on how to comport himself in public. It had the effect of making him seem a bit more human, and would subconsciously endear him to those below him.

The prison guard then took out a complicated looking tablet with runes engraved on it. 'Right,' he said as he pressed on some of the runes, making them light up. 'Cell three-eleven is now ready. Shall we?' Getting a nod from Harry, he started off, trailing behind the dementors who held Petunia securely in their grip.

Bidding the Aurors goodbye, Harry followed behind the guard, his Patronus trotting alongside him, giving off an unearthly silver light.

The prisoners did not jeer as the newest inmate was lead to her doom, like in Muggle prisons. The dementors took away the desire to do that. Petunia was forced down many flights of stairs till they reached the bottom floor.

'This is the high security wing,' Harry informed her cheerfully. 'It houses quite a few Death Eaters, you know. They all hate Muggles, by the way.'

Then they came to a halt in front of a blank stretch of a wall between two cells set widely apart from each other.

The guard pressed the glowing runes set into the wall in a pattern, opening a section of the wall to reveal a space big enough for one person.

Petunia gasped at what she saw inside. A man was already occupying one of the three walls. He had a full beard that reached past his chest. His hair, black with dirt and grime, was lank as it obscured his face.

'Say hello to your husband, Petunia,' Harry said as he lifted the man's face by his hair, making the prisoner moan at having light pierce his eyes.

Petunia was horrified. Her once large and healthy husband was now skin and bones. With another jolt of terror, she noticed the chains that suspended Vernon from the ceiling by his now skinny arms. It did not take a genius to figure out that the only reason that Vernon's feet were touching the floor was because his arms had been long since dislocated from hanging for so long.

'I have a present for you,' Harry said softly, bringing out a phial filled with an iridescent silver-blue liquid that glowed in the darkness. 'This is unicorn blood. I am going to be injecting this into you. But first, let me tell you something about this substance. You see, unicorns do exist. Their body parts have many different properties that I will not bore you with. All you need to know is about their blood.

'Now, many say that unicorns are the epitome of Light magic, and they would be right.' Harry said in a lecturing tone. 'But they have some very nasty defences. For one, they will not hesitate to gore anyone who even remotely makes them skittish. On top of that, their blood is the most insidious type of poison anyone has ever seen. Anyone who ever drinks unicorn blood, even a drop, cannot die. But they lead a very cursed life. The blood is very addictive. Anyone who drinks it slowly goes mad with a thirst that can only be satiated by more unicorn blood. And you need not kill a unicorn to get the blood. Oh no, you just need to capture one and draw blood from it unwillingly. The best part of the magic of the beast is that it does not differentiate between who took the blood and who drank it. The only person it will affect will be the drinker.' He smiled at her nastily. 'Hold her.'

Immediately, one dementor held her still while another used its deceptively strong thin arms to open her mouth.

Uncorking the phial, Harry stepped forward and tipped the contents down Petunia's throat.

'Now, we don't have to worry about feeding you,' Harry whispered in her ear after the last of the blood disappeared down Petunia's throat. 'You can just rot here next to your husband and slowly go insane in a room that is slightly taller than my cupboard, in utter darkness as the hunger and thirst drive you insane.' Stepping back he nodded to the guard.

Upon command, the dementors dragged the now shrieking woman into the cell. Petunia's shrieks increased in terror as she saw the set of manacles on the adjacent wall next to her husband, gleaming menacingly. Her screams caused the other prisoners, including Vernon, to start screaming and shouting as well.

Harry smirked as the door slid shut, cutting her screams off. He had initially asked Flamel if the alchemist would be willing to part with some of his Elixir to prolong the Dursleys' suffering. Flamel had refused mainly because they would need a regular dose of the substance to be kept alive. However, with unicorn blood, there would be no effort required on their part, while keeping the Muggles immortal.

Grimacing at the screams of the other prisoners in the normal cells, he sent off a wide area silencing charm, cutting those screams off as well.

'Thank you, sir,' the guard said gratefully in the silence.

Harry only nodded. Noticing the meaningful look on the guard's face, he internally rolled his eyes. 'As we discussed,' He said, taking out a sack and tossed it towards the man. The bag made a characteristic clinking noise that gave a hint to the no doubt copious amount of gold it held inside.

Harry smiled as he watched the guard weigh the sack. Bribing the guard to keep quiet about his usage of Unicorn Blood on prisoners (even if they were Muggles) was worth every single one of the thousand Galleons in that sack. Now to ensure that there was no scope for blackmail…

'Obliviate,'

The guard did not even have time to react before he was magically forced to forget everything about Vernon and Petunia Dursley.

Hermione fumed as she stalked towards the ancient manor of the Smiths. Seeing Potter's widely grinning face on the front page of the Daily Prophet as he handed over a Muggleborn baby to the home was something that disgusted her to no end.

A few scant minutes later, she was ensconced in Lord Nathanael's spacious dining room with the other Order members, the doors closed and sealed magically to ensure privacy.

'Problem, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Samuel asked courteously upon noticing the dark look on her face.

'Today's Prophet,' Hermione bit out.

Everyone in the room shifted. 'But that is not the worrying bit.' Hermione continued grimly. 'I just had a meeting with her majesty … I think Flamel has her under his control.'

'Impossible,' Lady Margaret declared as Lord Nathanael asked curiously. 'Why do you say that, Mrs Weasley?'

'Well, I was in a meeting with her yesterday,' Hermione began slowly. 'And I brought up the recent legislation.' She paused one more time. 'And The Queen had no problems with it.'

'And how is that a problem, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Nathanael said very slowly.

'Well, obviously it is because no progressive modern person with even a shred of decency present in them would agree to this … insanity!' Hermione exclaimed. Even though she did not say it, her tone more than conveyed what she thought of their mental capabilities.

Lord Diagon took a deep breath. He so longed to tell the uppity girl in front of him exactly what he thought of her, her demanding ways, her abrasive personality and her bigotry. However, he desisted. The pawn would get what was coming to her eventually. At least he hoped it would. There would be no point in living in a world where people like the crass woman in front of him did not get what they deserved. If it came down to it, he would ensure that.

'I see, and how do you propose that her majesty is being controlled?' Lord Nathanael asked neutrally.

Hermione shrugged. 'Imperius?' A gleam appeared in her eye. 'If we can prove it, then we will nail them for performing an Unforgivable!'

Lord Archibald harrumphed. 'Nonsense! There is no magical way that the monarch of this realm can be controlled!' Seeing Hermione about to open her mouth to argue, he continued. 'Do you not remember the oath that you had to swear before being installed?'

Hermione fell silent as she remembered the oath of fealty that she had to give. Lord Archibald smirked through his moustache. 'And were you allowed to carry your wand till then, Mrs Weasley? No. In case you did not know, a number the Royalty Protection Branch comprises of witches and wizards who are made to swear an oath far more stringent than the one you gave. They do not allow wizards or witches visiting the monarch to carry a wand until they have sworn loyalty. Flamel has already sworn fealty to the bloodline of the current queen, when he first came to Britain and was installed by King George III as a member of the Wizengamot his successors have, in turn, made sure to renew those vows. Potter, in turn, has done the same for The Queen. In both cases, they were not allowed to carry wands until they swore that oath, which, as you know, was heavily supervised. And I doubt anyone, even Potter, can cast the Imperius without the aid of a wand. If Flamel had somehow managed to bewitch King George III, then he would have won already. As much as we like to pretend otherwise, The Queen has absolute control over us. And that is not a power she is willing to give up soon.'

'What about potions?'

'What about them, Mrs Weasley?' Lord Nathanael said tiredly. 'It is still a magical means. You honestly think that the guard will miss that? They are all trained professionals. Besides, most mind control potions require ingestion. And I assure you, it is quite hard to spike a drink there.'

'So, The Queen isn't bewitched,' Hermione seemed to deflate as she made that admission.

'No, she is not.' Lord Diagon said shortly. 'And yes, that means that she voluntarily supports the law. And what you did was extremely dangerous, Mrs Weasley.'

'What do you mean?' Hermione asked warily.

Lord Diagon replied in a slow borderline mocking voice. 'If the Queen had decided to get involved directly with the laws we make, then things would get nasty very, very fast. How do you think wizards will react to being ordered around by a Muggle? And if Potter finds out that she has no problems with it, he might move to get royal approval. That, in turn, would make it much, much harder for you to change that law or even remove it because then you would need a two-thirds majority. But you should already know that, Mrs Weasley. At least I hope you do.'

Throwing the marquess a quelling look, Lord Nathaniel spoke next. 'At any rate, I hope this teaches you an important lesson, Mrs Weasley. Do not fiddle about in things that you have no idea about. And do not do so without telling us first.' Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'I think we have dallied enough. Let's get down to business. Ever since we have learnt about Potter and Flamel, we have worked tirelessly to bring Potter down. Since he is Flamel's pawn, Flamel is least likely to help Potter out, should Potter land in enough trouble. This, we hope, will be enough to get Potter to listen to us. To that end, I would like to introduce someone who has been working secretly over the years for us. Our chief researcher, Percival Weasley,'

It took a great amount of self-control for Hermione to ensure that she did not gape as the man in question walked in at that moment. Percy was quite an enigma. Ever since that disastrous Christmas meeting that Ron had told her about, when she was in Sixth-Year, she had not heard from the third oldest of Molly Weasley's sons.

Hermione knew that Percy was working in the Department of International Cooperation, but that was it. The man was always in some country or the other, filling out various diplomatic functions.

Even though Hermione had not seen him for nearly a decade (she herself couldn't believe that it was that long) Percy had not changed a bit. He was still tall, still thin, and still weedy. He even had the same pair of glasses on his face and the same air of pompousness around him.

'Percival here will tell us about what he has found out.' Lord Nathanael said softly, seemingly missing the shocked look on Hermione's face.

Fussing about pompously, Percy took out a sheaf of parchment and laid it on the table. Taking a moment to look at the people around him, he cleared his throat and in an eager voice, started to share with the rest what he had learnt.

Hermione waited on the side, with the other Department Heads as she watched the members of the Wizengamot occupy their seats one by one with anticipation.

This meeting of the Wizengamot was called in by Minister Thicknesse himself, with invitations sent to the various department heads. Thanks to the Order, Hermione knew that the Minister had a surprise in store for Flamel and his stooge.

Harry took his place as the Chief Warlock, brimming with curiosity. Ever since the last meeting of the Wizengamot, Pius had been keeping to himself. This was despite numerous attempts by Harry, Neville and Draco to speak to the man. The three along with Flamel all agreed that there was something fishy going on.

Well, it looked like today would be the day where the esteemed Minister of Magic would finally come out in the open.

Standing up, Harry went through the motions of opening the session formally. Once he was done, he gave the floor to the Minister, returning to his seat.

'My Lords, Ladies, gentle-wizards and witches,' Pius Thicknesse began. His voice, like anyone who was given the floor to speak, was automatically enhanced magically so that it carried through the chambers. 'I have led this great nation for the past six years now, at her majesty's pleasure, and am honoured to have the confidence of this august body so far. However, I regret to inform you all that I am no longer able to continue. I hereby resign from my post. Thank you.'

The Minister's announcement took the room by storm. This was the last thing anyone was expecting. The Wizengamot was suddenly filled with sound as people started talking, shouting and generally making noise.

It took a moment for Harry to recover from this. The Minister's sudden resignation had taken him completely off guard.

This definitely was not good.

'Are you sure of your decision, Minister?' Harry asked, after he managed to get the room back into order. He fixed the man with a steely glare as he asked his question, as if hoping to get him to change his mind.

'Indeed, Lord Potter,' while Thicknesse's words were as strong and courteous as Harry's, the younger man couldn't help but notice that the Minister avoided direct eye contact.

'Very well,' Harry replied in a heavy tone. 'I trust that you have a nominee in place as your successor?'

The election of the Minister of Magic was a complex process that had equal involvement from the people as well as the Wizengamot. As long as a witch or wizard had the confidence of the Wizengamot, he remained as Minister, meaning that there was no set length of term a Minster had to serve in office. However, once that confidence was lost, or the Minister resigned, a new candidate was chosen.

A maximum of five people could submit their names for the post. The public would then vote for those they found the most suitable.

The top three candidates would then be questioned extensively by the Wizengamot, which would then vote for the most suitable candidate.

The winner would be considered to have the confidence of the Wizengamot and would be appointed by Her Majesty to the post of Minister of Magic.

In the meantime, the current Minister would stay in power. Or, in this case, would have a replacement to stand in while the new Minister was chosen.

'Indeed,' Minister Thicknesse replied to Harry's question. 'Rufus Scrimgeour.'

Hermione watched as the Head of the Auror office got to his feet with silent glee. She was disappointed to note that there was no visible reaction on Potter's face. But upon closer look, she could see the rage in his eyes. She smirked. This was only the beginning.

Harry was cursing up a storm mentally as he called for a vote. Thicknesse was not supposed to name Scrimgeour. Forget that, he was not supposed to retire yet in the first place!

There was nothing he could do but watch as a majority of the Wizengamot voted to keep Scrimgeour as the interim Minister till the elections came about.

'What the hell is happening?!' In the sanctity of his study, far away from public eye, Harry allowed the fury to show on his face and in his voice as he ranted. The air around him was heavy with magic as he paced.

'At least we now know why Thicknesse was avoiding us,' the serious expression on Draco's face belied the light tone he was using.

Harry only snorted at this. 'Did none of your contacts give you even a hint about what Pius was thinking?'

'None whatsoever,' Neville said in a troubled voice. 'In fact, they assured me that it was nothing out of the ordinary.'

'Same here,' Draco added. 'And the people I know are far less naïve than Longbottom here.'

Harry ran a hand through his hair as Neville rolled his eyes. Over the past few years, Neville and Draco had developed a tolerance of sorts. One might even say that the two had struck up a friendship. A friendship that was seasoned with barbs and flavoured with witticisms aimed at each other.

'Did you see Granger's face?' Draco suddenly said.

Harry looked at the head of the most Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy with narrowed eyes. 'No …' he said slowly. 'Why?'

'She had the smuggest grin I have ever seen on a person's face.'

'How smug?' Harry asked.

'Imagine the expression on her face when she wins a lot of points for getting a spell right in school before everyone else,' Draco drawled. 'And multiply that by ten.' Seeing the look on his companions' faces, he snorted. 'Yeah, it was that smug. Merlin, I seriously wanted to slap that grin off her face. And perhaps slap her some more just for good measure.'

'You think she is behind this?' Neville scoffed.

But Harry, who had settled down behind his desk looked thoughtful. 'It is rather improbable, I admit, but she did rise through the ranks rather quickly.' he trailed off. 'We will have to do some digging.'

Focussing back on the two men in front of him, he continued. 'Draco, use some of your contacts within the Department of Magical Law. Find out what people have to say about their head. Neville, you use our contacts to figure out just what Scrimgeour is up to. Meanwhile, I shall pay Pius a visit.'

However, a week later, nothing new had happened. The Floo connexion to Pius Thicknesse's house was blocked and all efforts to contact the man were fruitless.

Meanwhile, relations between the new Minister and Harry were not going well. Scrimgeour seemed to be cold at best towards the Chief Warlock, always too busy to speak to Harry, Neville or Draco.

Things eventually came to a head by January.

'I have grave news,' Harry said tiredly to Draco and Neville in his study.

'It seems that dear Rufus, with the help Granger, plans on ousting me from my spot.' Getting up, he moved towards the window, looking out at the grounds with unseeing eyes.

'How does he plan on doing this?' Neville asked.

'I have no idea,' Harry replied, still looking outside. 'My informant couldn't find more. But I assure you that it will be something nasty. The fact that Rufus and Granger came into power only shows that we have a bigger enemy. And it also seems that they have been preparing all this time under our very noses. They have us at a significant disadvantage.'

The room lapsed into troubled silence.

'What about Flamel?' Draco asked slowly.

Both Neville and Harry snorted. 'Oh, he definitely knows.' Harry said as he turned around. 'But I doubt contacting him is going to do us any good.'

Twin expressions of surprise greeted his statement, causing Harry to chuckle. 'I know for a fact that man sees me as nothing more than a pawn. I knew from the day I first made a pact with him. Flamel is a brilliant man, but he is old … too old. Nothing will deter him from his goal. He probably has made plans should I be neutralised. Something tells me that he is already implementing some of them as we speak. No, he won't help. I do not expect him to.'

Harry snorted again at Neville's look of surprise. 'I know you have warned me against that man many times, Neville. I also know that I appeared not to take your warnings seriously. But trust me when I say that I knew. I knew from the start.'

Saying this, he sauntered back to his chair, a smug look on his face.

'Then why haven't you –?' Eyes widening Neville looked at Harry with realisation. 'You had something planned from the beginning, didn't you?' he stated shrewdly.

Harry chuckled. 'Let's say that this pawn has seen the end of the board, and, while nobody has been looking, has been slowly inching his way to that place. Scrimgeour and Granger aren't even in my path. They are an inconvenience. That is for sure. But once I am done, they won't even be that much.'

'What have you planned?' Draco's curiosity was peaked. This was the first time either of them had heard of any long-term plans of Harry's.

'You are better off not knowing.' Harry replied. He fixed the two men in front of him with a hard gaze. 'But to accomplish this plan, I will need to go … away. I will be absent from this country for an extended period of time to meet my objectives. And so I ask you now, can you trust me?

'I know I have not given you any information,' Harry continued into the silence. 'And I am not likely to do so till I am successful. But I ask you now; can you, despite that, trust me?'

'While I wouldn't like being kept in the dark,' Neville said slowly. 'I have known you long enough to trust you. So, I guess that is a yes from me.'

'Thank you Neville.' Harry said softly. He then looked at Draco questioningly.

Draco Malfoy took a long time to speak. 'My family have been quite … wily, you could say.' He began. 'The Malfoys pride themselves in always being with the winning side. My father would have probably made a plan to appear to be a sympathiser for Scrimgeour and his ilk in this situation. Merlin knows he would have succeeded. But I am not him.' He looked pained to admit that fact. 'The situation is such that there is no way for me to appear as if I am for Scrimgeour. Granger, at least, won't allow it. So I guess I am stuck with you, Harry. Besides, something tells me that you will end up victorious. So, yes, in short, I am in as well.'

Harry smiled at Draco's words, his eyes glowing brighter for a second. 'Thanks, I think. Don't worry though. If you stick with me, then I guarantee that you, both of you, will be rewarded greatly.'

'Leave the speech for the mindless followers,' Neville said impatiently. 'We said that we were in, didn't we? Now what do you need us to do?'

'Keep them occupied,' Harry replied after a short while. 'If they say blue, lobby for red, if they vote to have a break, petition for an uninterrupted session. Just make sure that they do not undo what we worked for all these years.' He took a deep breath before he continued. 'And most importantly, keep Daphne and the kids safe. I don't know what lengths Scrimgeour will go to, but I do not want them to suffer, got it?' seeing them nod, he stood up. 'Well then, gentlemen, I shall be leaving in a week.'

As soon as the words left his mouth, a frantic knocking on the door interrupted them.

'Mark?' Harry said in surprise when he opened the door to see the frantic teen. 'What is the matter?'

Breathing heavily, Mark responded. 'I just heard – Pius Thicknesse is dead.'

'What?' Neville questioned in surprise as Harry lead the young man to a chair. 'When?'

'He was found in his home.' Mark replied as he slowly got his breath. 'Murdered,'

'What is it?' Harry had a bad feeling when he saw the look of trepidation on Mark's face.

'They – they say that you did it.' Mark said quietly.

Deep inhalations met his statement. 'Impossible!' Neville stated. 'Harry was right here, with the two of us.'

'You don't actually believe that I would do something like that, would you?' Harry said with a raised eyebrow as he studied Mark.

'Of course not!' Mark replied indignantly. 'But the thing is that they might not consider Neville's and Draco's testimonies.'

Harry narrowed his eyes. 'How long do I have.' He stated more than asked.

'They plan on arresting you early tomorrow morning.'

'Do they know of your involvement?'

'No,' Mark shook his head. 'I used an Extendable Ear, they couldn't have seen me. I also booked it as quickly as possible.'

Harry silently pressed his hand on a spot of his desk and closed his eyes.

'They haven't sent anyone to watch the house yet. Arrogant bastards,' He breathed. Opening his eyes, he continued. 'Well, it looks like I will have to advance my holiday plans.' He said lightly.

Mark looked at him in incomprehension. 'Huh?' he said eloquently.

'I am going out…' Harry replied. 'Of the country,' he elaborated further.

'Why? Why not stay and fight this accusation.'

'Because I suspect that Scrimgeour isn't going to allow that,' Harry said briskly as he stood up. 'Neville and Draco will elaborate further.' Coming around the desk, he put his hands on Mark's shoulders. 'Meanwhile,' he fixed the younger man with an intense stare. 'Can I depend on you to do something for me?'

Mark gulped, 'Sure.'

Harry squeezed his shoulders. 'Good man. I want you to covertly find the real culprit. Get the evidence. Make it irrefutable. Get help if you can.' Seeing him nod, Harry turned to his two friends and allies. 'I want the two of you to help as much as possible. Also, find out how Granger and Scrimgeour are getting support. Those are the people we want to neutralise.' Seeing everyone understand, Harry straightened. 'Now, I must be away.' Saying so, he put his palm on a wall panel, sending out a pulse of magic. The entire room glowed for a moment before settling down. 'Now none can get into my study or my office in the Ministry.'

'But won't the wards fall once Scrimgeour takes you off your post?' Mark questioned.

'Ah, but I won't be here when the Aurors come for me, now will I?' Harry said craftily. 'Being Chief Warlock, they need to formally charge me. And I can only be formally charged if, and only if, I am physically present to be charged. The law allows that for people of my status. I cannot help it if I had already gone on holiday before they came along.' He finished innocently.

'Where will you be going?' Neville asked curiously.

'Congo,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'A friend of mine has a small Nundu problem there. I will be spending a really long time in the jungles. Cut off from all communication.'

Going back to his desk, he took out a quill and parchment. Scribbling on it furiously, he sealed it in an envelope and handed it to Draco. 'This is me nominating Mungan McKinnon as my temporary replacement. Please hand it over to him tomorrow.' He gave Draco a significant look. 'It reached you today in the afternoon, by the way.'

Draco nodded as he took the sealed envelope.

Harry then ushered them out of his study. As soon as the door closed behind him, a line of blue magic could be seen on the edges of the doorway, sealing the room in.

Harry turned to his companions. 'Now I have some goodbyes to say to my family. So, if you will excuse me.' He turned to go.

'Wait,' Draco said. 'How long will you be gone?'

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned around. 'A year, tops, I think.'

'Ah, not that long then,'

Mark turned, gobsmacked, to Neville. 'What do you mean "not that long"? It's a freaking year! Three hundred and sixty five days! How are we going to hold them off for that long?!'

'You haven't worked in the political field,' Harry replied dryly. 'A year isn't that long a time in the political sphere.'

'Frankly I thought he would be gone for five, or ten,' Draco commented.

Mark tried to wrap his head around that. Had Harry been gone for that long, by the time he came back, Mark would be nearly thirty! And James and Edmund would be finishing Hogwarts! He shivered. 'I hope you make it back in a year.' He said fervently.

'Don't worry,' Harry replied reassuringly. 'I know what I am going to do.'

He turned around and left to find his wife and children.

The goodbyes were heartfelt. Daphne was apprised of the short version of the events leading to Harry's departure. The boys, on the other hand, were told relatively little due to their young age. All they understood was that their father was going away for a really long time, because of some bad men and neither liked it one bit.

'Now I want you to take care of mummy and each other, OK?' Harry said to the two boys.

Edmund and James both nodded quickly, their eyes watering and lower lips trembling as they tried to put on brave faces.

It was frankly heart-breaking for Harry. 'Also,' he cleared his throat to prevent the emotions from coming out. 'You are going to have a new baby brother or sister. I want you to look out for the baby too. You are big boys now. No more fighting, you hear? And don't give mummy too much trouble. Mark, Uncle Draco and Uncle Neville will be there along with grandma and granddad if you need anything. They will also be there to keep the two of you in line.' Giving them a stern look, he pulled them in a hug pressing his lips on the top of their heads and whispering. 'Love you both.'

Taking a deep breath, he let go and stood up. With a last smile, he left Edmund's room, pretending not to hear two silently sobbing boys.

'I had the elves pack everything for you,' Daphne said softly. 'It's the same kit we had packed when we started our world tour. Only no nappies this time, so it should be lighter.' Her attempts at humour fell flat quickly.

Harry only smiled and drew her in for a kiss. 'I will miss you, the boys, and the baby.' Pulling away, he said with determination. 'I will be back soon, though. You have my promise.'

Daphne squeezed his hand and wiped her glistening eyes with her other hand. 'It's only a year,' she said more to herself than anything else.

Stepping away, Harry waved his hand at the magically enlarged Rucksack, shrinking it. 'Even though I will be incommunicado while I am away, I will try and write every now and then.' Smiling one last time, he turned away, heading out.

As soon as he exited the house, his body just faded from view, his powers giving him total invisibility.

Turning his invisible head upwards, he flexed his legs and then shot off into the air. A Bubble Head Charm modified around his nose and mouth enabled him to breathe when he reached thinner air. As soon as he was happy with the altitude he had reached, he shot off east, a magical barrier in front of him to reduce drag and enable him to move even faster.

Harry's mouth was set in a determined line. They might have run him out, but he would be back. And he would be even more powerful than ever.

As soon as he reached the English Channel, Harry corkscrewed. With a pop of Disapparition, Harry Potter had left England.

And here we go ... a bit earlier, but that's a plus, right?

Reviews are appreciated. Signed reviews even more so!

Not that I mind the unsigned ones, but if you want answers, provide me with the means to do so.

38. Rex

Daphne Potter sat regally on a sofa in the formal drawing room of the Potter ancestral home, a stony expression on her face as she beheld the Auror in front of her.

'As I told you and your colleagues,' she said imperiously. 'The Earl Potter is not in the country as of this moment.'

The Auror only glared at the woman. With a toss of his head, he and the rest of his colleagues moved out, leaving a thoroughly messed up manor.

Daphne hugged her two boys closer to her. She was silently grateful for insisting that everything valuable and precious was charmed to be unbreakable, and those artefacts that could not be charmed in anyway put in storage. For the first time in her life, she was also quite happy that her boys were rambunctious, thereby necessitating such a decision.

Hermione Granger-Weasley slammed the door of her office shut behind her with a fair amount of anger and frustration.

She had not anticipated that Potter would have left the country. The fact that he had, and that too so quickly, proved that there was a leak either in her department or Scrimgeour's (now Dawlish's) department. She had a feeling that it was definitely an Auror.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were supposed to be able to catch Potter by surprise. By launching an investigation, they were supposed to be able to strip him of his power and make him see that Flamel was using him. Once that happened, Lord Nathanael was supposed to step in and recruit Potter to the cause.

Of course, that meant that Pius Thicknesse had to go into hiding and change his name. But that was a small concession. Considering that The Order had saved him from being assassinated by Flamel (again, something that nobody could pin on the Alchemist) Pius was more than willing to leave his old life behind.

But, Potter just had to do something like this. Now that Potter had escaped, it meant that he and his allies were freer to investigate what really happened to Pius.

She desperately hoped that they did not discover the truth.

Attempts at finding the Chief Warlock (oh how she hated calling him that) were proving to be fruitless. A week had passed by so far, and Potter had not been sighted. Magical means of finding him were proving to be futile as well. It was almost as if he had dropped off the face of the earth.

There had to be a way to get Potter to come back to Britain. Hermione put her head in her hands as she thought about a way to do that.

Suddenly, it hit her; straightening in her seat, she contemplated her idea. The problem was the ethics of it.

Auror-Trainee Mark Evans sat back in his cubicle and sighed. There definitely was something fishy about Pius Thicknesse's situation. For one, neither the Auror office nor the D.M.L.E. was saying anything to the public about it other than that the former minister was missing. That they had not declared him dead or murdered (despite what he had overheard) proved that there was something else afoot.

As of now, Harry was only wanted by the Ministry for questioning in the mysterious disappearance of Pius Thicknesse. The exact reasons for that were not yet given, but the press release was slanted in such a way as to give the impression that Harry had deliberately left to avoid being questioned, thereby implying that he was involved in the disappearance of the former Minister of Magic.

Pius Thicknesse's missing status only meant that … Mark's eyes widened. It meant that the man wasn't dead!

Just then, a white stag materialised in front of him. Before Mark could react, the stag dissolved into his head, the message it carried resonating in his mind. Mark chuckled silently. Somehow, Harry had also figured out the same thing.

Now that he realised that the Minister was alive, there was only one thing to do: find him. And Mark had a good idea about who could help in that endeavour.

As he headed out of his cubicle, he heard raised voices. Brimming with curiosity, he headed towards the commotion.

'What happened?' he asked Travis, a fellow trainee.

'Kidnapping,' was the absent reply. 'Two kids were taken.' Just then, Travis seemed to realise who he was talking to.

A foreboding chill went down Mark's spine at the look on his colleague's face. 'Who was it?' he asked slowly.

'Um,' Travis gulped. 'It was the Potter children.'

Half an hour later, Mark was found sitting next to Daphne Potter as the woman sobbed her heart out. Apparently, she was suddenly attacked from behind in her own home. Daphne couldn't remember anything, suggesting an Obliviation. The only signs of struggle had been a wrecked drawing room and two dead house-elves.

Mark couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow at the dead bodies of Randolph and Winky. The former had a broken neck, while the latter had bled out from a massive hole in her chest. Aside from Kreacher (who had died in his sleep a year back) and Dobby, who was trying and failing (thanks to previous orders from his master) to beat himself up, Mark loved those two elves the most.

The only way they would be able to catch the culprits would be to untangle the charm placed on Daphne. Evidence pointed out to the fact that the kidnappers (and he was sure that it was more than one) had been let in willingly.

But that would mean that only one of the family friends would have been involved. Mark closed his eyes. Things were going to hell without Harry around. They needed Harry. And yet, they couldn't get him to come here. Not yet.

In a burst of inspiration, Mark had asked Dobby to find the children. While he could still feel the children through the bond, the elf couldn't locate them.

The elf had been even more distraught at that.

That night, as he lay in bed, a feeling of deep shame washed over Mark. He had been unable to do the one thing Harry had asked of him. He had been unable to take care of his family. Despite everything Harry had done for him, he had failed.

By next morning, Mark had managed to pull himself together enough to make a plan. If anyone could find Edmund and James, it would be Harry. To find them, Harry needed to be here. To be here, they would need to find Pius Thicknesse.

And Mark knew one person who could do that. Finishing his breakfast, he got up, with a new purpose. He was going to talk to Alastor Moody.

Wiping his brow, Harry stalked forward. The jungle was so humid that he felt as if he was swimming in, rather than walking through the air. Each breath was laborious as moisture dripped from his face in rivulets. The weather was just as he remembered it.

And he did not like it any more than before.

At least the cooling charms on his clothes kept him comfortable.

He magically parted the dense foliage casually without even thinking about it as he forged on ahead, following Marek, the guide he had been supplied with.

He really wasn't lying when he said that he had a Nundu problem to take care of. Normally, Harry would not really be bothered about the troubles plaguing people living so far away, but the man who had sent him on the mission was quite important to Harry's plans. Going by the name of Abdullah, the wizard was an arms dealer in this part of the world, acquiring guns and various other Muggle weapons and selling them to the various warlords, despots and dictators; making quite a killing in the process.

Harry chuckled silently at the wordplay, something he had come up with. He sobered up almost immediately. He had repeated that joke to himself so many times now that it was beginning to sound old even to him. Oh, how he longed to share that joke with someone who would be able to understand the humour…

Abdullah had information Harry wanted. In return for that bit of information, Abdullah wanted the Nundu that was rampaging in his part of the Congo gone. The beast had strayed to the region recently, eluding many attempts to catch and kill it.

The animal's presence was driving away valuable customers and also making it harder for Abdullah and his ilk to stay there. Ergo, it had to go. But that was easier said than done. Killing a Nundu was extremely difficult and incredibly dangerous. A normal party employed a hundred wizards minimum and as a result cost a large sum of money.

So when Harry offered to take care of the Nundu for nothing more than some very valuable information, Abdullah agreed readily.

Thus Harry could now be seen traipsing the jungle, hand aloft and alit with silver flames, fending off the greenish gloom of the jungle as he searched for an enormous leopard that moved silently despite its size and could kill entire villages with its breath alone.

'We shall stop here,' the thick voice of his guide cut through the air. Nodding, Harry looked around. The time on his A. Lange & Söhne Tourbillon Perpetual Calendar watch indicated that it was now six in the evening. It definitely was time to rest.

Immediately the party of five broke up and started setting up tents. Harry sat in the middle, closing his eyes and using his powers as the Master of Death to create a field of true invisibility around the camp. He also placed a layer of pain wards to deter curious creatures from wandering in regardless.

From his experience, he knew that the standard Notice-Me-Not wards did not work on animals as their simplistic minds made it quite possible for them to bypass the ward. Even after all these years, it still failed to make sense to Harry, but that was the fact.

Opening his eyes, he saw that the last line of defence, three golems, had been installed as one of the party members got the food cooking. Aside from Marek, the other wizards did not know of the full extent of his power. All they knew was that he was a foreign wizard who knew foreign magic. As they had not been anywhere further than Mozambique, they were more than satisfied with that explanation.

Marek, while well educated, was lead to believe that Harry was well travelled and well learned.

Dinner was spent in near silence. Aside from Marek, who was quite talkative, the others tended to keep to themselves, conversing with each other in Kikongo in soft tones. Despite having spent a long time with Harry, they did not feel comfortable speaking to the strange wizard with his strange tongue. They were also quite intimidated with the way he could wield magic with nary a thought, wand, or action.

As Harry lay back in bed, he thought about the past two months. It had taken some time for him to move through Europe and into Africa undetected.

It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Pius was not dead as he initially thought. As soon as Harry had settled in France, he had tried to summon the spirit of the former Minister. When there was no response, he knew that Pius was not dead.

Sending off a Patronus to Mark immediately, he moved further east. He did not expect a reply as he was moving too quickly and was much too far away for a Patronus to travel. Or at least, a Patronus cast by a normal wizard.

Owls and other methods would also be just as useless as he had made it a point to use his powers to make himself completely undetectable.

As soon as he had reached his destination in the Congo area, he had set off with his party to track the beast.

But that was proving harder than initially imagined. They had spent nearly a month in the jungle. And aside from a prolonged skirmish with a band of rather peculiar looking grey haired gorillas which proved to be quite aggressive, highly intelligent and with moderate resistance to magic, they had seen little else.

If it wasn't for the diseased and dead fauna (plants apparently were quite immune to Nundu breath) that they saw every now and then, Harry would have been ready to believe that the Nundu was just something Abdullah had come up with for his own amusement.

Having grown up alone for most of his life, it was a shock to Harry as he realised that he had forgotten what it was like being alone. While he was happy to be away from the politics and demands of work as well as watching Flamel while working with him, he did not like being away from his family. He missed them dearly. He hoped that Daphne and the boys were all right. The sight of those little heartbroken faces and Daphne's brave one as she tried to keep it together haunted his dreams.

But one definite advantage of being away was a much clearer head.

Before he had left on his journey and immediately after the incident with the last remnants of his relatives, Harry's nights were plagued with doubt.

When he had first thought of the Magical Child Protection act, he had been convinced about the righteousness of his crusade. He had seen what happened to Mark, he had experienced the Dursleys. The fact that most Muggleborn children tended to drift away from their parents along with how Tom Riddle and Severus Snape turned out thanks to the care of Muggles only justified his choice. Hermione's actions against her parents were just the cherry on the top.

Harry had not been lying when he had presented the statistics to the Wizengamot. A good percentage of child abuse cases were of magical children. However, the magical world was completely ignorant of this as the cases were all handled in Muggle courts. The Dursleys were the first Muggles to be tried by the Wizengamot.

Harry still felt angry when he thought of how the Queen had intervened on the behalf of those worthless creatures. He knew that if she could have managed it, both Vernon and Petunia would have had a lovely holiday in a plush Muggle prison. At least he had his vengeance on her.

So taking all those facts together, the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act made a lot of sense.

However, all that logic was shot to hell when he took that baby away from Dudley's girlfriend. The look on her face as he took her child away … it made him feel guilty. It made him doubt himself.

He did not like doubting himself.

Perhaps it was the different climate, perhaps it was the distance, but a week after Harry had entered the jungle, he was no longer filled with that doubt.

Sure snatching that baby from the mother was harsh, but he was doing what was best for wizarding society. He had the measure of Dudley Dursley and so he knew that his girlfriend would probably be the same. After all, as the saying went; Grindylows are never seen alone.

They would not understand their son. And with Dudley and Petunia in the house, the boy was sure to lead a life of hardship. Harry could see it now; a thin skinny child forced to live in a cupboard underneath the stairs as his father stomped on the loose floorboards on his way down from his bedroom and forced him to work.

So it was with a clear conscience and head that Harry went to sleep in his tent in the heart of the Congo.

The next morning promised to be the same as the others before it; muggy and fruitless.

Scratching his short beard (it was too much of a hassle shaving – magic or no) Harry lowered the wards as the rest packed up. One of the other advantages of going away was that he was free to fully experiment with wandless casting. While he was proficient in that, he still had to pretend that he needed a wand. Here, he was free to just gesture with his hands. And he was working on reducing those gestures too.

It was by midday, when they had broken for lunch that Harry got a feeling that he had been having a lot at this time of the day ever since he entered this jungle: a feeling of being watched.

Initially he did not think much of it, being used to this odd premonition. However, at that moment, Marek and the rest stiffened as the jungle suddenly became deathly quiet.

'Looks like we have company, boss,' Marek said lowly as he slowly put his utensils down followed by the rest. The other three Kongo people spread out, jabbering in their language, causing Marek to curse softly and harshly tell them to shut up.

In the meantime, Harry had got up and was slowly circling around the clearing and looking into the trees bordering it. 'Indeed.' He replied just as softly. 'And stop calling me "boss".' he added with a tone of someone who has been saying the same phrase for too long a time.

Just then one of the men started jabbering incoherently and pointing in front of him. The rest of the party members swivelled around to see a frightening sight.

Harry cursed. After two months of searching, the Nundu had finally decided to make its appearance. Even though it was standing about fifty feet away just within the treeline, they all could tell that the beast was humongous. Harry estimated its shoulder height to be around six to seven feet.

As he looked into the eyes of the animal, Harry somehow knew, there and then, exactly why they had taken so long to find it, and why he had been having those premonitions.

The Nundu wasn't hiding from them, it was following them.

And now, it had finally tired of the game.

The standoff between the two magical species did not last very long. With a roar, the Nundu lunged, its powerful hind legs propelling it forward twenty feet.

Marek and the three locals started casting spells with their wands as the beast started drawing closer with frightening speed. With a nimble grace, the Nundu dodged to the left and twisted to the right just as quickly, claws extended towards the pair of wizards that were nearest to it.

The men did not have a chance. Before they could even comprehend what was approaching, they were each crushed by one of the massive forepaws.

As soon as the Nundu landed on its feet, it lunged again towards a third wizard, intent on disembowelling him as well.

Its claws were inches away from the man when a fist of solid earth, courtesy of Harry, rose up from the ground and punched it in the gut.

The wizards took full advantage of this to start sending a myriad of spells at the winded monster.

But the jets of light only bounced off the creature, only irritating it. Roaring, the beast rolled to its feet and with two strides and a quick swipe, dispatched a third wizard in the blink of an eye.

Harry then sent out a torrent of magical lightning from his fingertips. The magic was strong enough to make the four legged brute feel some pain as its fur started to smoke.

Yowling, the magical cat jumped away and turned towards Harry, the murder clear in its eyes.

Not giving it a chance to do anything else, Harry quickly sent his two basilisk infused goblin steel daggers flying, their speed further enhanced by magic.

But the Nundu was too fast. Dodging the daggers, it leaped at Harry, claws outstretched and mouth open in a snarl.

But Harry was prepared. Thrusting his hand forward, he blasted the Nundu with a colourless banishing charm, sending the very surprised beast flying in the opposite direction.

Twisting in mid-air, the feline landed on all fours. As soon as its paws touched the ground, it made another dash towards Harry.

Standing his ground, Harry caused a pillar of earth to erupt right in front of the Nundu's face. Dodging, the cat tried to go around the pillar, only to be met by another column of earth. Shortly, the animal was boxed in, snarling as it pushed its face through the gaps. With a bellow, a yellowish gas started escaping out of the mouth of the beast.

'Oh crap.' Harry turned around to see Marek slowly backing away. The frightened man then turned tail and ran as fast as he could, the last member of Harry's group thought Marek had a good idea and turned around to run as well.

'Cowards, stand and fight!' Harry shouted at their backs.

Just then he heard a rumbling sound. Turning around, he had a moment to realise that the Nundu had managed to break through the impromptu prison before the sight of a paw filled his vision.

Harry felt weightless for a moment as he went flying before his world turned black.

Alastor Moody cracked his neck as he waited under his invisibility cloak. He had initially been quite sceptical about the story Mark Evans had come up with regarding Scrimgeour and Thicknesse. However, after some thinking, he had to admit that the lad was probably right. Some things just did not add up. For one, the Ministry wasn't making that big a deal about it, and secondly, something seemed off with Thicknesse's family. They were being far too secretive. And not worried enough.

So he took to tailing them. His first target was the wife. He had to hand it to the lady. She was quite careful about making sure that she wasn't followed. While she was not skilled enough to make him out, she was careful enough to make following her tough.

But Moody was nothing if not patient. He had been following the woman for two months now. And she was slowly getting sloppy.

It will only be a matter of time…

Harry's eyes jerked open. The first thing he saw was a clump of grass right in front of him. As he took in a deep breath, he could smell the earth.

It took a moment for him to realise what he was doing on the ground. As he recalled the Nundu's paw, his body decided to remind him that he was currently in pain. The first thing he could tell that he had quite a few broken ribs. Moving his arms proved that the bones in his right forearm and left shoulder were broken as well. Gritting his teeth, he rolled over. Looking down at his torso, he saw that the claws had not only shredded his olive green t-shirt, but managed to penetrate the basilisk vest he wore underneath, leaving long deep gashes.

By all rights, he should be dead. That he was still alive was a miracle in itself. Or, he thought, a result of being the Master of Death.

Flopping back, Harry relaxed as he felt the gashes start closing up. He gritted his teeth as he felt the various broken bones slide back into their place and heal themselves. Moving his neck told him that it had mended itself while he was unconscious.

A moment later, he felt well enough to get back up. Sitting up, he looked around. The first thing he noticed was the Nundu. It was busy gorging itself on a corpse. Looking around, Harry guessed that it was the last victim that it had killed. Looking at his watch (which hadn't suffered so much as a scratch thanks to the charms he had placed on it long back ago) he found out that he was out for barely a minute.

Springing to his feet, he divested himself of his shirt and vest. There was nothing that could be done about them now, anyway. With his right hand, he summoned Gryffindor's sword from one of the pouches on his belt.

The belt hanging at his waist was something that he had thought up a month back. It had not taken long for him to get tired of lugging that rucksack of his along (even if he could fit the thing in his pocket). So he started looking for ways to make things more convenient. Getting inspired by one of the army issue utility belts he had seen Abdullah deal in, he made one of his own while in the jungle (while he may hate Muggles, he had no problem copying or using any ideas of theirs). Only here, he placed undetectable expansion charms and weightless charms on each pocket. That way, his entire luggage was now on his hips.

With his left hand, he summoned his daggers. Carefully aiming them, he banished them towards the hindquarters of the feasting creature. That would get its attention.

The Nundu jerked up as soon as it felt the blades impact it. Whirling around, it gazed at Harry. It recognised him as the most powerful of the party, the one that had managed to make it feel the most pain. Harry smirked at the beast as he flourished the sword. The magic of the sword was such that unlike normal claymores, it could be handled comfortably with one hand.

While the Nundu did not have the required muscles, Harry could clearly see the surprise on its face, caused no doubt by the fact that he was still alive. Feeling slightly daring, he beckoned with his left hand as his right held the ancient claymore of his ancestors.

'Here, kitty, kitty,'

With a snarl, the beast lunged forward with a frightening speed.

Flexing his legs, Harry leaped as well. Soaring up, he somersaulted once and pivoted in mid-air as he reached the apogee of his jump. As he descended, he took hold of the sword with both his hands, the blade pointed down.

Harry's aim was true. The Nundu did not have time to even react as the sword was driven straight through the base of its neck, with Harry straddling its massive back. Blood spurted out instantly, spraying his face and body.

Harry slid off the still standing beast, his face a rictus of pain as his hands went to his crotch. Landing with his legs splayed on anything was not a good idea.

He lay there, curled up, as he waited for the pain to pass. Once he felt slightly better, he got to his knees and turned towards the animal.

The Nundu was clearly dead. The only reason it was still standing was because of the sword. Harry really had driven that sword hard through the beast. It was actually stuck into the ground.

Staggering to his feet, he removed the sword with an almighty wrench, hopping away from the falling body. Panting heavily, he sat back down, resting his back against the broad back of the corpse. Taking out a hipflask from a pocket of his camouflage patterned cargos, he opened it and took a long sip of the firewhisky inside.

After a second gulp, Harry took out a taxidermy kit he had purchased before landing in Africa. While the kit was expensive, it was useful as the knives were charmed to analyse a corpse and skin it on their own.

Activating the charms, Harry sat back and watched the show, slowly drinking from another hip flask (this one containing cool water and a refilling enchantment) as he did so.

Finding the camp from the air was easy enough. Even if the arms dealer had moved, Harry had been sure to place a discrete tracking charm on the man. A similar charm he had placed on Marek told him that the man had managed to Apparate out and get to the camp, no doubt telling Abdullah about Harry's failure.

Harry landed in the middle of the camp, invisible. Striding up to the magically expanded tent, he waited, amused, as Marek started winding down.

'There was nothing we could do, the beast finished Potter.'

'Did it?' Harry said, causing the two men to jump as he became fully visible. He smirked at the look of momentary fright on the men's faces. In his opinion, he cut quite an impressive figure: Shirtless, with Nundu blood all over his face and upper torso, and a cloth bag, containing the beast's head, in his hand.

'I see you made it then,' Abdullah, a thin man with florid robes and an oily looking face said.

'Yes, no thanks to Mr I-ran-away-like-a-little-girl here.' Harry said casually. He plonked the sack he was carrying on a nearby table. 'Proof of my kill,' he said casually.

Abdullah opened the bag and closed it again in disgust, and not a little alarm, as he saw the head of the Nundu.

'Oh come on,' Harry said good-naturedly. 'Don't be a sissy and open the bag.' Saying this he pulled the drawstring, causing the cloth to fall away. 'See? I even have the head on a silver platter, just like you asked.'

Adopting a brisk tone, he continued. 'Now, that I have fulfilled my end of the bargain, I believe it is your turn.'

Wiping his face with a handkerchief, Abdullah replied, licking his lips, a greedy expression crossing his face. 'Actually, the Nundu was part of the deal. I have one more task for you.'

The temperature in the room dropped as Harry's expression became stony. 'How about this; I rip the information out of your mind.'

Abdullah himself adopted a cool expression in response. Thanks to his line of business, he was used to handling dangerous people. One wizard wasn't going to intimidate him.

'Then you will be lucky to get out alive, my guards will finish you.' saying this, he made a subtle gesture with his left hand as his right drew his wand.

Almost instantly, the tent (the interior of which looked like a regular office) filled with ten of his guards, surrounding Harry, their wands drawn.

Harry looked around him, and then chuckled. He snapped his gaze towards Abdullah, his eyes glowing bright green.

Suddenly the arms dealer, each and every one of his guards, and Marek were lifted in the air, grabbing their throats as they felt an invisible pressure there, choking them. Wands clattered to the floor, forgotten, as their owners desperately clutched their oesophagi, their eyes widening at this casual display of power.

'Let me make one thing clear,' Harry said in a low calm voice as he strode up to the terrified arms dealer, his arm outstretched and hand making a grabbing gesture. 'I am not a mercenary for hire, nor am I a soldier of fortune. I do not work for anyone. And I most certainly do not work for someone like you.' Getting up close, he sneered, applying a bit more pressure on the arms dealer's throat.

'The only reason I offered to take care of your problem was because of my generosity. I could very well lay waste to your entire enterprise before I take that information out of your mind without breaking a sweat. However, I believe in doing things civilly. Clearly, expecting the same from you is a mistake. Now you have three options; one,' he held up a finger. 'You can willingly give me the information. Two,' another finger went up. 'I break the necks of each and every person here till you give me that information. Meanwhile, anyone who decides to come inside dies as well. Not that I have to worry about that.' He smiled sinisterly. 'Three,' a third finger went up. 'And this is my backup plan; if you still persist on not telling me anything after I kill each and every one of your men I rip it out of your mind.' Harry paused for a long while. 'Well? What's your decision?'

'I'll tell you, I'll tell you,' the man choked out.

'That's more like it,' Harry said patronisingly. Lowering his arm, he released the pressure on Abdullah. 'They,' he added jerking his head towards the guards and Marek, 'stay that way … just in case I need to start snapping necks.'

Taking deep breaths and gasping, the man hurried to his desk. Taking out parchment and a quill, he started writing furiously.

'There,' he said, all but thrusting the scrap of parchment into Harry's hand.

Reading what was written there, Harry looked back at the shorter man. 'See? Was that so hard?' he questioned mockingly. Voice lowering back to dangerously quiet levels, he continued. 'This better be accurate, or I will come and find you.'

With that threat, he tied the cloth bag with a wave of his hand, picked the Nundu's head up and walked out of the tent, releasing the hold he had on the remaining eleven.

As his men gasped and gulped in air, Abdullah ran out of the tent, fully intent on calling for help. Let's see the Englishman go up against everyone here, he thought savagely, content that the anti-apparition wards would make a quick escape impossible.

He stopped dead. All around him, every single one of his men was on their fours, gasping for breath. Just like the ones inside.

Abdullah took quick calming breaths. Just how powerful was this wizard?

He was suddenly glad that the information he had given was accurate.

Neville Longbottom exited the Wizengamot chambers with a spring in his step. He had just spent five whole hours making Scrimgeour and his allies spin around in circles. The best part was making sure that the elections were inconclusive. By making sure that Scrimgeour could not get voted in, he was essentially limiting the man's authority.

He couldn't wait to meet Draco afterwards. The two were going to compare their observations in the Wizengamot. Judging by who voted for what, a rough picture of who their enemies were could be drawn.

Neville was also going to speak to Mungan McKinnon. The man could, in his authority as the Chief Warlock, get a full list of the votes.

'This cannot stand!' Lord Nathanael said in a low furious voice to Lord Samuel. 'Scrimgeour so far has proven to be a major disappointment. Months have passed, and he hasn't even managed to gather enough support? Useless.' He spat.

'It isn't his fault,' Lord Samuel said in a placating tone. 'Lords Longbottom and Malfoy have been quite busy making sure that nothing comes of those elections.'

'That is no excuse!' Lord Nathanael repeated heatedly. 'They are children! Scrimgeour is getting beaten by striplings that have just come out of puberty! That's even more disgraceful.'

He took a long moment to calm himself.

'Call a meeting,' he said finally. 'We are going to find a way to get those whippersnappers out.'

A young man walked down The Mall towards the Victoria Memorial. Wearing a trendy yet cost-effective black coat over a white t-shirt and black skinny jeans, he looked like a regular teenager out and about on Christmas Eve. The shiny new Digital Single Lens Reflex (or DSLR) camera that he had slung around his neck as he took pictures of everything that caught his fancy twice gave the impression of an avid photographer to the more curious passer-by.

He paused outside St James's palace to snap off a few pictures of the guard outside.

From what he could see, St James's Palace was currently a beehive of activity. He had heard that except for the Queen and the Prince Consort, the entire Royal Family, from the Prince of Wales and his sons, to the Princess Royal, and her children were present in London's oldest palace.

The young man paused outside the palace for a moment and then moved on towards the memorial in front of Buckingham Palace, wishing for the nth time that day that he had enough money to buy that Tamron zoom 70-300mm lens. His current standard 35-70mm kit lens could not focus properly into the interiors of the palace. What he wouldn't do to get a picture of one of the royals.

Reaching his destination, he was busy clicking pictures of the golden statue when suddenly, with a loud explosion, St James's Palace disappeared in a maelstrom of smoke and fire, taking the Queen of England's children and grandchildren with it.

Slack-jawed, the young man looked on at disbelief like the people around him. Quickly getting out of his stupor, he picked up his camera and started snapping away. While this was a tragedy, at the same time, if he managed to get a good enough picture, he could sell it to a newspaper. He was one of the first on the scenes.

Looking at the display, he cursed. Holding the camera up, he ran towards the scene, once again wishing that he had a damn zoom lens.

The old woman looked at the front page of the newspaper and sighed, seeming to age as she set it aside.

'My entire family, the house of Windsor … gone …' normally stoic, it was a shock to see her so close to tears.

Thankfully, there was no one in the room. Except…

'I am sorry, your majesty,' A man hidden in shadows spoke up behind her. 'I was too late. I tried to get here as fast as possible, but I was too late…'

The Queen closed her eyes. 'It isn't your fault.' She paused to take another breath. 'Despite your powers, you are still a man. I recognise that.'

'At least you and The Duke survived. How is he by the way?'

'Not well. The attack has left him devastated. He has been bedridden ever since. The doctors are attending to him as we speak.'

Moments passed by in silence. 'I wonder who was responsible for this … incident.' The Queen said, sounding, for the first time, old and weary.

Harry touched down in a deserted area in the middle of the night. It had been a good seven months since he had left Britain, and it had all lead to this point.

The person he was looking for was located here, in a town he had no intention of even attempting to pronounce located in a small country he did not care about in Asia.

The neighbourhood was affluent though. That was surprising, considering that the person he was searching for was the most wanted Muggle in the Muggle world for the crimes he had committed.

Then again, half the world had been searching high and low for the man. Sometimes, hiding in plain sight was the best course of action.

But residing a stone's throw away from the nearest Muggle military outpost for half a decade and not being detected was just plain ridiculous. That they hadn't found the man till now while it took Harry a few months to do the same job only proved how stupid and ineffectual Muggles were. It also explained their tendency to ignore charmed objects.

Harry let a smile of anticipation cross his face as he contemplated the large house in front of him.

The guards were easy to get by. They could not see the invisible man that calmly strode through the compound and towards the door.

Discretely pulling information from minds, Harry made his way to the office of his target. Finding the room empty, he settled down on a chair to wait.

A minute later, a man entered the room. Tall and thin, with a beard of an impressive volume, the man, just known as "The Leader" seemed quite unassuming despite what he had done.

'Nice place you got here.' The Muggle started in surprise as Harry became fully visible.

'I wouldn't try going for the door or raising an alarm,' Harry continued in a nonchalant tone, his feet still casually propped up on the desk. 'They won't hear you.'

The response took a long time to come. 'What do you want … wizard.' The man finally said in accent-less English, his tone surprisingly mild-mannered as he sat behind his desk.

'Ah, so you know what I am,' Harry said with a raised eyebrow. This just proved to answer one of his questions.

'Yes,' the reply was clipped. 'Now, how may I help you?'

Stroking his own beard (which he kept cropped, liking the rugged look it gave him) Harry took his time to answer. Finally, he plunged a hand into an inside pocket of his tan coloured sleeveless jacket and removed a letter. Handing it over, he watched as the man slit open the envelope and read the contents.

The terrorist's eyebrows went up as he the contents. 'This will take time to do,' he finally said. 'And money, lots of money.' Looking at Harry he continued. 'I hope you know that I will have to clear it with one of your kind.'

Harry only smirked. 'And what if I don't want you to do it but say that you did?'

The man looked at him incredulously. 'I don't see the point of it, when what you want me to claim won't happen.'

'Oh, don't worry about the doing. Leave that bit to me.' Harry said dismissively.

'In that case,' the man suddenly smiled. 'Would you want it in Arabic or English?'

'I am not partial to either,' Harry responded. 'You choose. Is there any chance I can use your … equipment?' Harry asked delicately. 'I hear you have the best quality in the business. After all, you do have a reputable supplier practically next door.'

The Muggle chuckled at the cheeky joke. 'Indeed I do.' He paused for a while, an amused expression on his face. 'I shall have the necessary goods ready for you in a week's time. And don't worry about the price. Since you are giving my organisation so much free publicity, I am happy to give it to you for free.'

Harry looked at the man curiously. 'Aren't you even suspicious about all this? I have to admit, I was expecting a bit more reservation on your side. What if I was working to bring you down?'

The man chuckled. 'If that were the case, wizard, then I doubt you would be sitting here to talk. I would be dead the minute I entered the room.' He shrugged. 'I have publicly taken responsibility for my actions many times in the past. Just dumping me alive or dead in the government building of any country without any proof of my actions will be enough to finish me. You don't need to sit and gather evidence.'

'What I am curious about is your motive.' He sat back. 'I suppose you aren't going to be telling me that soon, however.'

'That I have information about' the man's words broke the silence that followed The Queen's question.

The Queen looked at him in surprise. 'Well, I do know that it is a terrorist group. At least that is what my intelligence tells me. The question is which organisation, but that will be found out in record time with little to no effort from us. They have this habit of publicly taking responsibility for their actions.' She sighed, further evidence that the recent events had completely unsettled her. 'This situation makes my annus horriblis a veritable picnic.' She muttered to herself.

'Well,' the man spoke up slowly. 'I have additional information. I have reason to believe that there was magical involvement.' He trailed off.

The Queen took in a sharp breath. 'This complicates matters.'

The room lapsed into more silence.

'So,' the man finally spoke up. 'What now?'

The Queen sighed. 'I do have a plan,' she said slowly. 'I haven't told you this, but not all of the members of the royal family were caught in that blast…'

As she continued speaking, the man smirked internally, his green eyes glowing brighter.

Hermione took her place at the Wizengamot, her mind reeling as she processed recent events.

Unlike her peers, she kept up with events of the Muggle world. Four days back, terrorists had bombed St James' Palace, blowing up the landmark and killing a good chunk of the Royal Family in the process. Muggle newspapers had been vague on who had survived and who had perished, only confirming that the reigning monarch and the Prince Consort were still alive, not having been present during the attack. Security had been tightened all over the country, especially in London and people were running scared in what was dubbed as debatably the worst attack since the events in two thousand and one. While most considered the family to be a relic of the past, and something to be phased out, in the end, the family and The Queen, was a symbol of Britain. This attack by the terrorists (a video claiming responsibility had come out recently) served to increase sympathy for the family and for The Queen.

As she looked around her, she noticed that all of her colleagues looked just as shocked and disturbed as she did. Not that she was surprised. While the incident happened in the Muggle world, it did concern the magical world more as The Queen was a much bigger deal in Magical Britain. Magical Britain, unlike its Muggle counterpart, was a monarchy. Almost all of the Aurors and Hit Wizards had been called to Buckingham Palace, leaving the regular members of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol on duty.

Rumours had been spread that The Queen was planning on abdicating and handing over the throne to an as yet unspecified descendant.

'I guess we are going to find out today if the rumours are true or not,' Scrimgeour said next to her.

Hermione nodded. This special session of the Wizengamot had been called for that purpose. The Queen was going to be speaking to the body today. Traditionally, the only reason a monarch did that was to announce their successor.

Whatever happened today, one thing was for sure. Today would set a course for their future.

Just then, an out of breath Percy Weasley slipped into the courtroom.

'You are late, Percival,' the Minister's tone was heavy with disapproval.

'Sorry,' the man gasped. Settling down, he collected his breath and said eagerly. 'I just found out who is coming.' Getting the attention of the Minister, Hermione and the people surrounding them, he continued. 'An Auror told me that apparently, Her Majesty is coming with Prince Harry.'

'It's good to know that someone of the immediate family is alive,' Rufus Scrimgeour said as the others around them started gossiping amongst themselves, spreading the news.

Further conversation was stopped when the doors closed and a herald entered.

'Announcing Her Majesty, Elizabeth the Second, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of Her other Realms and Territories.'

The entire room stood up as a phalanx of wizards and witches comprising the Magical Royal Protection Force and the Aurors entered from a secret passage that was accessible only through the office of the Chief Warlock. Lining up, they formed a column to the throne.

As The Queen entered, Hermione was struck by a sudden idea. It appeared that the monarch could access Potter's office. Perhaps she would consent to help?

However, even though the woman that came through the column that was formed by the guards was the same woman Hermione had met, she and the rest of the room (who had all met the monarch at some points in their lives) couldn't help but feel was different, somehow. A veil of grief and anger surrounded her like a shroud as she regally strode up to where Mungan McKinnon was seated.

The elderly man bowed as he stepped to the side. The Queen barely acknowledged him as she stopped in front of the massive throne on the right of the smaller seat of the Chief Warlock. On the right of the throne was a smaller throne, intended for the Minister of Magic. The only reason Scrimgeour was not there was because he had not been officially appointed by The Queen yet as the elections had been delayed quite often by Longbottom and Malfoy. She looked forward to seeing Lord Nathanael's plan get into motion.

The entire assembly sat as The Queen took her seat.

'My Lords, Ladies, Gentle-Wizards and Witches,' The Queen began in a sombre voice. 'As you no doubt know, tragedy has befallen the house of Windsor. Due to attacks purported by a notorious terrorist group, our family, our heirs are no more. In essence, we are the last of that noble line.'

The Queen closed her eyes in pain. Hermione and the rest of the assembly looked on with baited breath.

'However, all is not lost,' The Queen opened her eyes. 'Despite the efforts of outside hostile forces, the Royal Line still lives on. It lives on in our successor.' She turned to look at all the members of the Most Ancient and Noble Houses. 'Has the Magical Accession Council met with the future King?'

Hermione was surprised to note that except for Lord Nathanael Smith's son, Jonathon, the Marquess of Diagon, and Nicolas Flamel, all the other heads of Ancient and Nobel Houses stood up. Along with them, stood Healer Anderson and a good number of the prominent Muggleborns.

'Yes we have, Your Majesty.' as the most senior member of the council in rank, the Duke of Azkaban was chosen as the spokesperson.

'I was not aware that Your Majesty had appointed a Magical Accession Council,' Lord Smith spoke up, his surprise plain on his face.

'Because you were not informed, Lord Smith,' The Queen said in a bland tone, immediately dismissing the man. 'Continue, Your Grace.'

As the Duke gave his assent, Hermione felt the first spike of worry. It did not escape her notice that both men who were excluded were linked to the Order somehow. Although, the fact that Flamel was in the dark as well was reassuring. However, at the same time, she did not like the concealed smug smirks Malfoy and Longbottom were sporting.

'Very well,' the voice of the Queen cut through her musing. 'As of this day, the twenty-ninth of December Two Thousand and Eleven, I, Elizabeth the second, officially abdicate from my throne and hand it over to my heir apparent, Prince Harry, the Prince of Avalon.'

At those words, the door opened, causing all those within to stand and turn to see the Prince and future King.

Hermione felt all air leave her lungs. It took an act of supreme willpower for her to remain standing.

The man who stepped through the door of the secret entrance might be tan, he might have a closely cropped (but still wild looking) full beard and he might be wearing an expensive set of robes, but Hermione recognised that familiar mop of black hair and those luminous backlit green eyes.

Harry Potter had stepped through the door.

Hermione watched in stupefaction along with the entire Wizengamot minus the guards, the Magical Accession Council and most importantly, The Queen, as the absconding Chief Warlock, the Boy Who Lived, the Defeater of the Dark Lord Voldemort, positively glided to stand before The Queen.

Without hesitating, he got down on one knee, his head bowed.

All sense of sound seemed to leave Hermione as Harry gave his oath to the Magical Accession Council and to the Queen. She watched in slow motion as The Queen took off the crown sitting on top of her head. The crown she had found out some time back was part of the original Crown Jewels of England.

As the crown descended to Harry's head, Hermione opened her mouth to protest.

Only to be stopped by a gentle elbow to her side. Turning, she saw Percy looking at her. He imperceptibly shook his head, shutting Hermione up before she could even articulate.

'I crown thee, King Henry the ninth. Long live the King.' With those words, Harry, now Henry IX stood up, the crown on his head, as the entire room (with varying degrees of disbelief and reluctance) repeated the same getting down on one knee.

As soon as the new King sat down on the throne, everyone present knew that it was official. After all, no one who wasn't the King or Queen had ever managed to successfully sit there without being ejected. The tugs in their magic only gave further proof. The more sceptical turned to look at the Royal Cipher. Their curiosity was satisfied when the large but plain "E" and "R" that stood for "Elizabeth" and "Regina" respectively became a stylised "H" and "R", no doubt symbolising "Henry" and "Rex", the Latin term for King. A Roman numeral nine was also present just underneath the space between the letters.

It was then that the realisation hit: for the first time in British Wizarding history, the King was magical. Smiles broke out on many faces at the implications of this. Nobody ever noticed his predecessor leave quietly.

The King held his hand up. 'My Lords, Ladies, Gentle Wizards and Witches; while borne of tragedy, this is a day of celebration. We shall meet in two weeks' time. Till then, make merry, for Britain has a new King, a Wizarding King.'

The proclamation seemed to brighten the day of many in the room as they all left with a spring in their steps. Harry smirked as he noticed the few who had been identified as his opponents leave with ashen faces and downturned mouths.

They would be taken care of soon.

He turned to the Accession Council. 'We shall meet in my manor tomorrow. We do have much to discuss.'

The Duke of Azkaban bowed his head. 'Yes, Your Majesty.'

'Lords Longbottom and Malfoy, I require your presence tonight in my study. Bring Lord Flamel along if you can find him. Although, I wager that you won't have to look far.'

Both men inclined their heads, identical smirks on their faces. They had been quite surprised two days back to find out that not only had Harry returned to Britain, but that he was, through his mother a descendant of the Queen.

'Now, I shall be off. I have two sons to find.' His voice grew cold as he spoke about the kidnapping.

Reaching the office of the Chief Warlock, Harry smirked internally as he recalled an event that happened years ago.

'Imperio,'

The Queen did not have even a moment to think before she was hit by the wandless spell. Smirking, Harry said softly to the woman who was standing still. 'Now listen carefully. I want you to follow everything I say. Sit down at your desk.'

With a blank expression on her face, the Queen walked over to her desk and woodenly took a seat.

'Good,' Harry said. 'Now, I want you to write something for me with some parchment and a very special quill I have for you.' saying this, he withdrew the parchment and a sharp looking black quill.

The Blood Quill was first used and invented by one Miranda Bartholomew. A middle class commoner, she had a teaching post in the subject of Charms at Hogwarts. The Quill was initially designed to be an instrument of punishment, and in those days, was adopted with enthusiasm as it showed to be an effective deterrent. One experience with that Quill was more than enough for the pupils.

However, the Blood Quill had a far more sinister purpose to it.

Miranda Bartholomew had dabbled quite extensively in the Dark Arts in secret, far away from the public eye. The Quill was designed to do something truly heinous and unheard of at that time: Line Theft. The Quill enabled her to pass herself off as a relative of any one of the students who had used it.

Miranda had used this to sneak off Galleons from various vaults over the years. Till one day she got careless.

It was a stroke of luck, really, that William Potter, a prominent member of the Wizard's Council, met the Charms Professor just outside the Potter Family Vault as she was coming out of said vault. Not recognising her as a member of the family, William was quick to catch her. Subsequent interrogation showed the extent of her crimes.

The wizarding world was in uproar over this. Not only had Bartholomew taken money and blood from the Potters, but many other prominent Pureblood families as well.

The woman had angered the entire Wizard's Council. United, the Council was quick to find a way to exact vengeance.

Spearheaded by William, they struck her name from all records. Any and all achievements credited to her were not acknowledged. Anything and everything that she or her family owned was seized, and the contents distributed amongst the affected families. Furthermore, a crusade was set up to destroy all of the Blood Quills, with an edict labelling those instruments as dark. Possession of one could lead to an automatic Kiss.

Finally, after the family was stripped of all wealth, the Council subjected every member of the family to the Kiss.

In a day, an entire family was wiped out. Not even the children were spared.

After all, none of the powerful families in the Wizard's Council wanted people trying to lay claim on their political or financial capital.

However, they missed two souls.

The new-born girl was raised in secret by Miranda's mother who managed to fake their deaths and change their names. Fed with stories of how the Council massacred her family, the girl and the old woman focussed their hatred on the leader. William Potter.

Her grandmother had managed to squirrel away a decent amount of gold and one artefact: A Blood Quill. But that Quill was useless now, as following the scandal, every Pureblood family invested heavily upon charms and wards keyed to their bloodline to prevent such a thing from happening again.

So the family lay in wait. Changing their surnames many times, but keeping the legend, and their hatred of the Potters alive. Till one Dolores Umbridge met Harry Potter.

Umbridge had first tried to use her position to get the last Potter Kissed, thinking it would be the best form of revenge on the Potter family.

When Harry had escaped that, she tried to use the Quill (now an item whose name and purpose was completely forgotten) on the boy, theorising that the Boy's Muggleborn mother would be enough to weaken the Blood Wards.

But she was mistaken. It was fortunate that she had managed to appropriate the necessary testing tools before attempting to access the Potter Vault. Otherwise, she might have met her doom.

When Harry tore her mind open, he stumbled upon that knowledge immediately. Acting on instinct, he stole the last remaining Blood Quill in the world and kept it hidden.

And then the Queen had caught his attention.

As soon as he had obtained the Sword of Gryffindor, Harry used it to open a secret compartment in the Potter ancestral home.

In it he found a rare artefact; Gryffindor's journal.

Godric Gryffindor was a descendant of the last knight of King Arthur's Round Table.

Arthur, of the Royal house of Pendragon, the first magical King of Britain, was also the first King to unify the various kingdoms and fiefdoms under a common banner. He was greatly aided and helped by his chief advisor and court wizard; Merlin.

The reign of Arthur was a golden age. Both magical and non-magical beings prospered, living together in peace with the King, his Wizard and the Round Table all working to keep the peace. Arthur was also the first and only human to gain the respect of the Goblins.

It was the reason why his profile was there on every Galleon, Sickle and Knut even today.

In an effort to keep things like that well after they each had died, Arthur and Merlin took many measures to ensure that a descendant of Arthur would rule the islands.

Chief amongst those was an ancient spell of Merlin's own design. One of the first Blood Wards, it ensured that a descendant of Arthur could always call themselves King or Queen.

This ward would serve the house of Pendragon well. For five centuries after Morgana and Modred had both destroyed Camelot, murdered and killed every member of the Round Table and fractured Britain, a descendant of Arthur, Offa, rose to become the most powerful King of England till Alfred the Great.

Offa's descendants each grew in power and prestige, expanding the kingdom till it was once again, just as large as Arthur's kingdom, and more.

It was a testimony to both Merlin's power and ingenuity and the magic present in Arthur's blood that the magical protection was still alive even though there had never been a magical royal ever since Arthur.

The protection was the reason why the Monarchy managed to survive over the years despite many attempts to overthrow them (The only person who had come close to driving them out was Oliver Cromwell). It was also why various assassination attempts throughout the ages had all failed.

It also helped that the family was not content to let the protection do all the work. While inbreeding was ultimately a bad thing, it also helped keep the genetic traits within the family, thus preserving the protection.

The Royals also had secured the loyalties of the Wizard's Council. By using their connexion to Arthur and Merlin, they bound important wizards and the entire Auror, Hit Wizard and Magical Law Enforcement force to the bloodline, ensuring another layer of magical protection.

Through a system of magical oaths and contracts, the monarchy of the United Kingdom kept their power, making sure that few knew of their ancestry.

That was till Harry came along.

Thanks to their Muggle status, the magic of the oaths and contracts had to be renewed with each wizard. That was the main reason for the no-wand policy till oaths were made.

After using the Blood Quill, (partly out of revenge, and partly because he felt it was a shame that a Muggle held such power over the magical world) Harry placed a few documents in strategic locations. In due time, the Queen noticed those documents. A combination of the Imperius curse, along with compulsion charms, had the Queen and her researchers curious enough to do a blood test, something that Harry passed easily thanks to the Quill. While Merlin was powerful, the protection had gone long enough without magic to be no match for the Blood Quill. Once it was within Harry's bloodstream, the ancient ward recognised Harry as a viable host and started to grow stronger from Harry's magic. Harry was, in essence, a royal now, a direct descendant of King Arthur himself.

However, at the same time, he was only fifteenth in line to the throne. So, Harry kept this relation to himself, not sharing it with anyone, even his wife, till the opportune moment came up. Hermione's games had only accelerated his plans of finding a patsy to take the fall for killing those who were above him in the line of succession.

Then it was only a matter of influencing them to come together for a very short time, something that they normally would not do.

He was also quick to destroy The Quill as soon as he used it on The Queen, ensuring that there was no evidence. The heritage tests run by the Goblins could not show squibs and Muggles meaning that the goblins had to rely on Muggle methods. The Quill had been forgotten in history, and no one could suspect that Harry could cast wandless spells.

Thus it was the perfect crime.

In a few weeks' time, Elizabeth's abdication would be made official in the Muggle world, making him the new King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, the monarch of fifteen other commonwealth realms, the Head of the fifty four member Commonwealth of Nations, the Duke of Normandy and the Lord of Mann.

But all that was in the future, now, he had to find his sons.

Harry's eyes burned green as he made his way home.

And that's number 38!

I have to say I was quite excited over this chapter ... it was the second idea that spawned the creation of the story (the first one shall be revealed later).

I hope you like!

As far as I know, I am the only person to use Umbridge's signature Blood Quill in this way.

Extra points to anyone who spotted the reference to Michael Crichton.

Finally, if you have questions, give me a way to reply to you. I do not answer questions in author's notes.

39. Reunions

Warning: Adult themes mentioned here. Then again, the story is rated M... that should be warning enough.

Edmund Harry Potter-Black lay morosely upon a lumpy mattress in the tiny room as he contemplated his life so far. Nearly eleven months had passed since the bad men and women had made his father leave. It was quite a long time for a young boy like him, especially when he spent the last ten months ripped from his family in a place he did not know, with the wicked people who had taken him and his brother.

His captors had tossed him and James into a small room with two small camp beds. He looked at his surroundings in disgust. Not only was the room small and smelly, the beds lumpy and barely fit to sleep in, but it was boring.

Now, Edmund loved to read, he really did. But the books in there had really boring titles like Prefects Who Gained Power and manuscripts about thick cauldron bottoms.

Making a face, he absently reached under his shirt to scratch his stomach. Being bored was the least of his worries. As soon as they had arrived at the house, he and James had been quickly divested of their clothes as one of the evil people living in this house (a really old horrid troll of a woman) had deemed them "unfit" for boys to be wearing.

The nerve of her! It only took one look at her to realise that she knew next to nothing about clothes.

Worse still were the garments that had been foisted upon them. Not only were they faded and ugly, but they were several sizes too big for them. Edmund supposed that the troll lady had clothed one of her troll children with it at one point. It made sense, since it smelled like a troll.

Disgusted, he pulled off his shirt and shucked off his trousers. Completely nude, Edmund closed his eyes as his fingers scratched away, taking care of the itchiness. With all the modesty of a seven year old boy, he started to work on the inflamed area around his groin.

While they had no choice but to wear the clothes the Troll Lady (he absolutely refused to call them by their proper names) had given him when he was outside the room, around her and their other captors (The Bushy Hag, The Mean Monster, and Creepy Glasses) inside this room, it was just him and his brother. Even Rose (for a girl, she was all right enough to be named properly) wasn't allowed in here. So, there was no way that he was going to wear those clothes inside the room. He collapsed back in his bed, hands scratching his inner thighs. Lifting his head up, he observed the small painful boils that had formed around the inflamed area a few days back. He really did not know what was causing this, but it itched.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, he hugged himself as he rubbed his thighs together to try and alleviate the pain. He closed his eyes as tears started anew, running down his already tear streaked face. The boils hurt. They chafed at his trousers whenever he walked and would often rupture painfully to release a clear fluid. It only aggravated the general sick feeling he had the minute he had entered this accursed place. He did not know what they had done, but for some reason, he could not change his hair colour like he normally did. That, more than anything else, upset him.

At least that pain was nothing compared to the throbbing pain coming from his bum. The Nasty Monster had recently smacked him quite hard with a wooden spoon after he had called the Troll Woman cruel, foul (two words he had recently learnt) and … well, a troll, after pushing a battered clock with funny words written on the face instead of the time to the ground and breaking it. While it felt good to make the bitch (he had learnt that word recently too, even if he did not know its exact meaning other than it was a bad thing to say) cry the same way she had made him cry the Monster had become quite angry.

Both Edmund and James had been spanked before when they were really naughty, generally by their father and once by Mark (when he was babysitting them). But those affairs had been a few swats delivered by hand on the seats of their trousers to gain their attention as they were marched off to a corner or their rooms.

Edmund thought those few swats were painful, but it was nothing compared to the world of hurt he had been subjected to when the Monster had brought a wooden spoon down on his bare backside after practically tearing off his blue boxer briefs.

One of the few victories that he and James had managed was to keep their underwear. And both boys had made sure not to remove them for extended periods of time, taking them off only in the bathroom, at times even bathing with them on. They did not trust the mean ones not to take those as well.

But that victory, that one piece of comfort, had been taken away from him. Edmund remembered screaming himself hoarse as his backside was lit up as he struggled to get away. Eventually, his desperate squirming paid off and he managed to get away from the Monster after landing a lucky kick right on his willy. Taking the opportunity, he ran as fast as he could, covering himself up in the ratty trousers as he did so.

This punishment was far worse than the times he and James were forced into doing House-Elf work by the Mean Ones. Hell, he would take a thousand spankings from his father rather than the one he was just dealt if it meant that he could see his parents again.

Now, more than ever, he missed his parents. He missed his room, he missed antics of Funny Dobby, the way Winky-Wonky would try to be proper and tell him to behave, the expansive grounds outside the manor, his books, cuddling up next to his father every full moon, Mark, and most importantly, he missed his daddy.

Edmund gave into his tears as he started sobbing again. What had really rattled him the most was what the Monster had said about his parents while beating him. About how he wasn't really their son, and how his daddy wasn't coming for him, ever. And even if he did, they would lock his daddy away.

A small part of him reminded him that he had left his brother downstairs to the mercy of those monsters, but it only served to add to his misery. He had sworn to take care of his brother, and he had just left him there. The worst part was that he couldn't bring himself to get up and go rescue James.

Suddenly, Edmund felt small thin arms wrap around him. Turning around, he saw the concerned mismatched gaze of his little brother.

'Are you OK, Teddy?'

At the worried question, Edmund felt even more miserable. Grabbing James, he sobbed even harder, setting off James as well.

After so many failed attempts at escaping (they were magically prevented from even going near the fence, no matter how hard they tried) so many tantrums and shouting, pleading, begging and basically doing everything in their power to get the Mean Ones to let them go home, Edmund was just tired. He did not know what he had done to be taken away from his mummy and daddy, but he was sorry already. Exhausted, he felt his eyes drift shut.

'Why did you stop me from saying anything,' Hermione Granger accused Percy in her office as she paced in back and forth.

Percy's reply was uncharacteristically irritated. 'Firstly, because it would not have achieved anything, and secondly, because, in case you did not know, had you spoken out, it could have been construed as trying to deprive or hinder a person who shall be the next in succession to the crown from succeeding to the imperial crown of this realm. And that, my dear, is treason.'

Hermione was shocked if not a little hurt by Percy's condescending tone. Over the past year of knowing the man, she had developed quite a relationship with him. Percy showed dedication and intelligence that she had not noticed before, having been influenced by the company of Ron, the twins and Harry. At times, she wished that she had met him first before Ron. Percy was in many ways just like her.

Over time, they had developed a close friendship. Hermione had to admit that she was beginning to like him.

Seeing the look on her face, Percy continued in a softer voice. 'For all intents and purposes, Potter is the King. The fact that the crown sits on his head and his arse sits on the throne means one thing; he is the legitimate descendant of the Royal House of Pendragon!'

Hermione looked at Percy incredulously 'Pendragon? As in Arthur Pendragon, the first and only magical king to unite the different kingdoms?'

'Yes,' Percy replied succinctly. 'The Royal Family does not advertise the fact, but it is something well known in certain circles. At least we now know that he is not Flamel's pawn. Flamel was quite surprised to learn that he had Europe's only magical prince under his very nose. Even I am surprised by this!'

Percy paled suddenly as he was reminded of something. It only took a momentary horror-filled glance at Hermione to make her realise what he was thinking.

Scrambling, Hermione reached for the Floo, her mind replaying what happened nearly a year back.

She had mentioned to Percy that the one thing that would bring Harry running home with wand blazing would be his family.

At first, she had dismissed the thought of abducting the children. While Harry might have turned into a kidnapper and in turn, turned the Ministry into a kidnapping agency, she was not like him.

Percy agreed with her. But it turned out that the Order did not share their sentiments. Both of them had been quite surprised when Dawlish had turned up one night at their house with the two unconscious children.

At first, Hermione was quite alarmed and fully intending on returning the children. But then the Order had managed to convince her otherwise.

They said that it would be a short time. That they planned on pinning it on Flamel. As soon as Harry came back, they would pretend to find them living with one of Flamel's "lackeys" who had decided to change sides.

So Hermione agreed. After all, it wasn't as if the children would be mistreated. Indeed, they had gone to lengths to ensure that they were treated as equally as possible.

But Potter had not come. After a few months, inquires revealed that he had gone dark, communication-wise. He was completely cut off from Britain. As a consequence, there was a great chance that he simply did not know what had happened.

However, the Order still insisted on keeping the children.

Hermione felt guilty every time she laid eyes upon them. They were clearly unhappy, and had tried many times to leave the house. That was something they could not afford to let happen. The minute the boys returned to their family, she, Ron, Percy, and Molly would be on their way to Azkaban, leaving Rose to the tender mercies of the Ministry.

'What do we do now?' She asked Percy as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace in The Burrow.

'I will contact Lord Nathanael,' Percy replied. 'He'll know what to do.' He headed off to Bill's old room that was recently converted into a study.

Meanwhile, Hermione headed off to the kitchen to find Ron sitting there with his head in his hands.

'What happened to you?'

'Nothing,' Ron replied curtly. He did not want to admit that he had completely lost control and lashed out at a child. That he was capable of doing that to a young boy (even if it was someone else's) was scary. Not for the first time, he resented his wife and brother for doing something like this. Suddenly he realised that he had taken his frustrations on the two out on the child. That only angered him more.

How could Hermione claim to be better than Harry if she did the same thing she claimed Harry was guilty of?

At times like these, Ron wondered if Hermione was truly against the Child Protection Act because it was amoral. He wouldn't be surprised if the main reason for her opposition was the fact that she wasn't the one who had thought about it in the first place. That was one of her major faults. She could never bear being bested.

Just then Percy rushed into the room. 'They aren't answering,' he said anxiously, once he had drawn Hermione out of Ron's earshot.

'Did you try Lord Diagon?' Hermione replied in a hushed voice.

Green eyes blazing, King Henry IX entered his old office in the Ministry. He had been quite surprised, and subsequently enraged, to find out that someone had kidnapped his boys.

Daphne had been especially affected. The kidnappings had taken their toll on her, causing her to miscarry. This, in turn, served to severely depress her. The woman he saw was but a shell of her former self. Her hair was lank, and her eyes dull.

According to Astoria, who, along with her mother, was staying with Daphne as she refused to leave her house, Daphne breaking down in tears was the biggest reaction they had seen from her when she saw Harry for the first time. Harry did not miss the disapproval that came from Astoria in waves. She clearly blamed him for her sister's condition.

'I want my babies back,' were the only words his wife said to him in a hoarse voice before she finally went into a peaceful sleep for the first time in months.

And he was determined to get them back. Taking his in-laws with him to Buckingham Palace along with Mark, he summoned Draco and Neville via Patronus.

There, he sat them down, and along with The Queen, revealed his royal heritage and his imminent accession.

His audience had been quite gobsmacked to learn that Lily Potter was actually a Muggleborn witch from the House of Windsor but had been adopted by the Evans family due to a mishap (the details of which were sketchy). After finding out that Pius Thicknesse was still missing, but that Moody was close to finding him, Harry then revealed that his enemies had somehow found out about his ancestry and had targeted him in hopes of gaining control over the Wizarding World, and when that failed, gaining control through his children. As proof, he pointed out the extinction of the Windsor family, claiming that there was a magical connexion in the bombings. He even theorised that Pius was behind it all.

The events after that had been a whirlwind of activity. Getting the oaths of service from the Magical Royal Protection Force, the Auror force and the Hit Wizards and oaths of binding from the members of the accession council (who were later to be his Privy Council) Harry, The Queen and their security moved towards the Ministry after The Queen sent off a summons for a meeting of the Wizengamot.

Now that Harry had the power and was crowned King (in the magical world at least) he could start finding his kids.

And he knew of a way to do so quickly.

With a burst of emerald fire, he was whisked away to his study. Swiftly taking down the stasis wards and opening the room, he approached one of the walls, causing a keypad of runes to appear.

Pressing a few of the ethereal blue runes in a sequence caused a part of the wall to melt away, revealing a cabinet.

Harry took out the iridescent metallic looking Pensieve-like stone basin he had created and levitated it to his desk. His fingers then plucked a phial containing a single hair seemingly at random as he reached for a small bag with his other hand.

Sitting down at his desk, he poured some of the powder in the bag into a conjured bowl, mixing it with some water to give a clear shimmering liquid.

Pouring the potion into the basin, he extracted the strand of hair using a pair of small tweezers. Dropping the filament of hair into another conjured bowl, he summoned a small phial with a crook of a finger, pouring seven drops inside.

He held his right index finger over the bowl. Suddenly, a drop of blood oozed out from the tip and splashed down into the bowl, followed by two others.

Healing his finger, Harry waved both hands over the bowl, muttering words in Parseltongue under his breath.

The strand of hair sucked in all the liquid, turning iridescent silver. Levitating it, Harry dropped the glowing hair into the stone basin, causing the liquid within to start roiling as the runes around the edge of the vessel lit up.

Harry shook the basin till the liquid within settled to show a scene. Taking a deep breath, he plunged a finger into the magical device.

Miles away, a small boy's eyelids snapped open, the orbs within were not mismatched, as was usual, but a deadly glowing green.

'No, Diagon isn't answering either,' Percy replied in a worried tone.

Chills ran up Hermione's spine as she realised the implications. The Order was abandoning them.

'What do we do?' she said in fear.

'Simple,' Percy replied grimly after giving it a moment's thought. 'We release the children to His Majesty.'

'Then he will know that we were behind it!' Hermione whispered furiously.

'Not if we Obliviate them first…'

'And whom are you planning on Obliviating?' Hermione's response was cut off by Ron's loud voice. Starting, she turned to find him standing at the doorway, an irritated look on his face.

'It's none of your concern, Ronald,' Percy's cool reply only angered Ron more.

'"None of my concern"?' Ron spat. 'Let me put it this way, Percival. You come into my house –'

'I believe it is my house too, Ronald.' Percy replied with a raised eyebrow.

'No it isn't' Ron replied cuttingly. 'Mum put it in my name, so it is mine. So, you come into my house, dump someone else's children, who by the way, you took through illegal means, then have me take care of them and you say that it isn't my concern? Well, guess what, I am making it my fucking concern. I am sick and tired of looking after two ungrateful spoiled brats who whine every time they are asked to do the simplest of chores, pine after their fucking parents every fucking hour, and put ideas into my daughter's head. Furthermore, I am also quite sick of the way you and my wife are scurrying around and whispering behind my back. So unless you want me to throw those kids outside my property and refuse to keep them here, you are going to fucking tell me what the fuck it is you are talking about.'

'Ron! La –'

Ron exploded. 'I AM NOT GOING TO MIND MY FUCKING LANGUAGE, SO DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME TO FUCKING MIND IT YOU STUPID WOMAN! I AM A FUCKING ADULT, AND I WILL NOT BE FUCKING TALKED TO LIKE THAT IN MY. FUCKING. HOUSE!' Breathing heavily, he got right into her face, towering over his frightened wife. 'You have a problem with my language? WELL FUCK, FUCK, FUCKITY-FUCKING FUCK! I WILL FUCKING SPEAK ANY FUCKING WAY THAT I FUCKING WANT! What the fuck are you going to do about that, eh?'

Miles away, in his stately study, Harry pulled out of his trance with a gasp. Designed under the tutelage of an old Greek Parselmouth, the basin was a device that helped him find anyone of his blood no matter the wards. The principle behind this was ancient powerful Parselmagic and Divination developed by the Greeks. The disadvantage of it was that it only allowed him to search for one person at a time with a gap of thirty minutes before the basin could be used again.

The filament of James' hair, coupled with a very difficult to make potion, and his blood, allowed Harry to see through his second son's eyes for a time. It was not possession as he did not control the boy's actions. Rather he was a passenger in another body, unable to do anything but look through the lad's eyes.

Thankfully, James was smart enough (or curious enough) to wake up and look around. Harry was glad to see that both boys were together. However, the condition he saw the children in made his blood boil.

What he could see of the room did not really give Harry much of a clue as to where he was, though the title of a book on the shelf caught his attention. It looked familiar, somehow.

When he heard loud voices, Harry silently urged his son to go and investigate, hoping that the door could be opened. Failing that, he hoped the boy looked out of the window. He really wished he could communicate with the lad.

But all his worries dissipated when he heard an explosion of sound. It did not take long for Harry to recognise the loud voice. The identity of the man in turn dug out a memory of another boy reading a certain book that he noticed before.

Pulling out, he seethed with rage. How dare they?!

Making a fist, he quickly splayed his fingers out, creating a Patronus from each digit.

'The children are at The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon.'

As soon as he finished speaking, the five ethereal stags took off in different directions. Three went to the Head of the Auror force, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol and the Director of the Hit Wizards in the Ministry. One went to the head of the Magical Royal Protection Force and the final one went downstairs to inform the family.

Standing up, Harry magically opened the floor to ceiling windows while simultaneously sending the contents of his desk back to the secret compartment (which closed automatically). Leaping out of the window, he flew towards the edge of the property where with a tight corkscrew, he Apparated out.

Meanwhile, things in the ramshackle house had deteriorated rapidly. Ron, Hermione and Percy had moved to the drawing room where they were having a three way shouting match, their voices all clashing with each other and making it impossible for anyone (including the owners of the voices themselves) to determine what the other was shouting about.

Suddenly Ron stopped. He had felt a ripple in the wards.

Now, normally, he would have dismissed it out of hand as it was something that the wards did every now and then. But this ripple was the second one in a short interval, the first happening ten minutes back. He flicked his eyes to the window and the gate that could be seen through it.

'Harry is back here, isn't he?'

Percy, and Hermione, who meanwhile had started arguing with each other stopped upon hearing his low matter-of-fact tone.

They turned to look at him, their expressions told him everything.

Ron chuckled. 'And his return wasn't how you expected it either. It explains why the two of you are so panicked, and it also explains why your precious Order,' he spat the name out like a foul word, 'isn't contacting you. They were using you as pawns. And now that Harry has found us, they are quite eager to let you take the fall.' He looked at them with disgust and a hint of fear. 'Fools,'

'Now, now, Ron,' Percy said, hands held up in a placatory gesture. 'Calm down, there is no way Harry could have found out that we have his children yet. We still have time.'

Ron laughed hysterically. 'Really, do we? You sure about that are you? In fact, the both of you really do seem quite sure about so many things. Not at all like dumb old Ron.' He smiled bitterly. 'Since you are so fucking enlightened, tell me a few things; one, why is Harry wearing a crown? Two, is it just me or does he look weird with that beard of his? And three, who is that outside wearing a crown on his head looking at us with a pissed off expression on his bearded face if it isn't Harry Potter!'

James Sirius Potter shook his head. He felt a little funny for a moment there, standing by the door of the room and looking at the window as he listened to what was going on. Idly, he wondered what that word the big tall angry man kept using meant. Whatever it was, it really annoyed the hag. He would have to ask his brother.

Taking one look at Edmund's state of undress, he decided to follow suit. After all, wherever one went, the other followed. That was the pact they had made on the second day of their stay here. Besides, he liked the freedom.

Unable to help himself, James walked over to the window. Teddy always said that looking out of the window was torture, but for James, it was reassurance. It meant that there was a place out there, that there was some hope of getting outside. Sure they could not get near the fence, and yes, after escape attempt number ten, the windows were charmed to be unbreakable, but the land outside the fence symbolised a visible goal. It also meant that their father would come and get them … someday…

… He squinted, noticing a figure standing there.

A moment later, his eyes widened…

Edmund was woken up rudely by the voice of his brother calling his name and shaking him violently. 'Teddy, Teddy, wake up!'

'Wha –'

'It's daddy! Dad's here!'

Eyes widening, both Hermione and Percy looked outside the window, following Ron's finger.

There, right outside the gate, was a tall trim figure. If the dying light of the sun glinting off his simple white-gold jewel encrusted crown, and the glowing green eyes that were glaring daggers at the house as if he knew precisely where the three of them were standing weren't an indication of the identity of the man, then the faint but jubilant cries of 'Daddy! Daddy!' coming from Percy's old room more than confirmed it.

The man now known as King Henry IX was standing outside their gates. Still in his coronation robes with the crown of Arthur firmly on his head, he looked less like the King of Britain and more like Ares, the god of war.

'Granger, you whore!' he shouted across the property. 'You made a major mistake when you decided to take our children. Your arrogance clearly knows no bounds.'

With that he took a step forward, only to stop at the gates.

'What's this?' he hissed loudly, his voice still carrying. 'A ward?' he laughed. 'You think a ward is going to stop me? Let me tell you arses something. I. Am. Harry. James. Fucking. Potter-Black!' He punctuated each word with a blow of his fist at the ward, causing it to flare up at the point of contact. 'I took a fucking Avada Kedavra to the face at the age of one and lived,' he held his hands out in front of him, the long fingers curved like the claws of an angry bird. 'I faced Voldemort and his servant at the age of eleven and killed his servant with my bare hands.' The tips of his fingers glowed, lighting up the magical barrier and bathing the property in an unnatural blue light for a moment before shattering the ward.

Striding forwards, Harry obliterated the front gate with nary a gesture. Stepping over the twisted metal, he halted again as he sensed another ward.

'The blood ward should keep him out,' a sweating Percy said to himself. Pointing his wand at his throat, he cast a Sonorus.

'Let's be reasonable here, Potter.' His amplified voice rang out. 'You cannot get through that Blood Ward. So why don't you calm down? If you let us go, we shall release the children to you immediately.'

Harry became enraged. 'You pretentious prick! I AM YOUR KING! YOU WILL ADDRESS ME WITH RESPECT! You dare use my children's blood? And you think this pathetic ward is going to be enough to keep me out? I killed a sixty foot long, thousand year old basilisk at the age of twelve with a sword! I drove away over a hundred dementors away with one Patronus Charm at the age of thirteen. I fought Voldemort to a standstill the next bloody year. I defeated, and killed him at the age of sixteen. I have been trained by Dumbledore and many other great men and women. I have broken through wards made by Voldemort himself. You think you know magic that I don't?' Getting on one knee, he smacked the ground with his palm, sending a shockwave that overloaded the anchor stone and disintegrated the Blood Ward in one fell swoop. 'How's that for not being able to get through, you twat!'

Unnoticed by Percy, Ron had dragged Hermione up to his old room.

'I knew something like this would happen,' he explained as he led her up the stairs, 'The minute I saw Harry's kids. It looks like dumb old Ron managed to save the day by fashioning an exit strategy.'

A small part of him thought to go and get Percy up as well, but he ignored that. He loved his wife more, and there was no way that he was going to have her and that pretentious prick together. Percy was clearly a bad influence on Hermione.

He paused midway up the stairs as he heard Percy trying to reason with Harry. Shaking his head, he muttered, 'Idiot thinks he can negotiate with him. How many times have I told him about Harry beating the odds, and of his obsessive streak? When Harry wants something, nothing can stop him. Voldemort is proof of that.'

On cue, they heard Harry's answering rant. 'Damn. And the worst part is that he is right.' Ron said as he resumed going up, his hand still tugging a dumbfounded and unresisting Hermione with him. 'Hey,' he articulated a thought that came to his mind, 'He forgot to mention our involvement.'

As they heard the Blood Wards coming down, Hermione managed to regain her senses. 'Wait, you came up with an escape plan?' she couldn't help the incredulity seeping into her voice.

''Course I did,' Ron said with a lopsided grin. 'Surprised, eh?' reaching his room, he closed the door and locked it. Turning around, he levitated his old bed to the side. Rummaging around, he took out a small bag from a loose floorboard.

'Undetectable expansion charm,' he explained. 'I have a tent inside, food and some of our clothes. Catch.' Throwing it towards Hermione, he strode to one of the poster covered walls.

Ignoring the protests of the animated players, he tore the sheet away to reveal a small cubbyhole. 'Got our documents here along with some Galleons I managed to squirrel away. And,' he took out a stick, 'A one-way, untraceable Portkey to the middle of a forest a few kilometres away from here where a second dormant Portkey is waiting to take us to another place in the Forest of Dean. We can then book it by foot and then decide on our next course of action.'

Just then they were distracted by more noise. Unable to help herself, Hermione walked to the window.

There, she saw Harry walk towards the house. The wards that she and Percy had painstakingly researched and erected to slow any intruders down were being carelessly destroyed by Harry as he walked forward. He did not even bother to lift a finger as he tore each and every one of them down. The casual way they all came down was like a slap to the face.

She stared at this off-the-cuff display of wand-less magic. When had he become so obscenely powerful?!

Harry just stood there as he froze all the gnomes that rushed forward to attack him. 'It takes a hundred wizards to kill a Nundu,' Harry said in a conversational yet still carrying voice. 'And yet, I killed one a few months back by myself with a sword. You think a bunch of garden gnomes is going to stop me? Well, let me tell you one thing.' With a small twitch of his fingers, each and every one of the creatures exploded into a fine mist, coating the frozen grounds (except for the area around The King) in their blood and gore.

In their room, two completely stark-naked boys were watching with round eyes and awed expressions. 'Wow,' the elder one said, drawing the word out, as the other cheered. 'Go dad!'

Just then an orange streak darted toward Harry. 'Crookshanks!' Hermione cried out from her vantage point. 'No!'

Harry raised his arm, bolts of lightning sprang towards the cat, frying it in mid leap and blowing a cauterised hole through it. 'That was for killing Randolph and Winky, Granger. Though each of them is worth a million of your pathetic pet, and your life combined, you bitch.'

Seeing Harry approach the front door, making the house shake, groan and shudder with his magical aura, Ron grabbed his wife who was looking at her cat with a heartbroken expression on her face and activated the Portkey.

It would take them some time before they realised their mistake. But by then, it would be too late.

Percy only had a moment to dive out of the way before the front door exploded inwards with Harry a foot away from the doorway.

Percy was by no means a fighter. He wasn't even athletic. His completely sedentary lifestyle had even gifted him with a small paunch.

As such, he scrambled to get back on his feet and train his wand to a darkly amused Harry.

The King negligently backhanded the first spell headed towards him, idly wondering what results the ginger hoped on getting with a disarming hex aimed at a person not holding a weapon. He slowly folded his arms and nonchalantly leant against the doorframe as he deflected the following barrage of spells.

Tiring of the game, Harry whipped his hand forward in a blur, fingers splayed, releasing a burst of lightning, courtesy of a silent Sajjeta.

Percy did not have time to react before he was slammed against the wall, screaming.

Harry ended the spell quickly, following up with a wordless Cruciatus, languidly approaching the thrashing and screaming man.

The torture curse was enough to get Percy to drop his wand as he screamed himself hoarse. Ending that curse, Harry slammed the ginger to the wall and stuck him there, spread-eagled.

'I am going to keep you alive and sane so you can die a traitor's death and appreciate it,' he growled.

Turning around, Harry headed for the stairs, his anger making magic roil around him, flinging around anything that wasn't bolted down in random directions, and scouring the walls with deep gouges, making them groan with his passage.

On the second landing, he was met by a surprise.

'Stay back,' said Molly Weasley, facing him with her wand drawn.

'Step aside, woman,' Harry said silkily. 'This is your first and only warning.'

Sparks danced out of Molly's wand. 'You will not–'

With a twitch of his fingers, Harry violently flung her down the staircase before she could finish her sentence. He watched dispassionately as she tumbled down the stairs, bouncing off the corners of the winding stairway as she did so.

Sniffing in contempt, he turned to the last obstacle, the door.

A quick scan showed that it had a simple locking charm on it. With a gesture, the door was vanished.

'DADDY!' two high pitched voices yelled as both kids slammed into him.

Harry got down to one knee, hugging his sons to him ferociously. Pressing his lips to each of their heads, he inhaled deeply, comforting the children while holding back his own tears.

Coming out of the hug, he looked at them properly. The first thing that struck him was how thin they looked. He frowned, noticing that they did not have a stitch on them.

'Didn't they clothe you?' he asked, horror-struck.

Both boys vigorously shook their heads. 'We weren't going to wear troll clothes.' James said with a disgusted look on his face as he pointed at the pile of what Harry recognised as Ron's old clothes lying inside. 'They're itchy and scratchy and smelly. Just like what you said a troll smelled like in that story of yours.'

'Daddy, it hurts,' Edmund said plaintively, gesturing at his crotch.

'All right, hang on,' Harry said soothingly. 'Daddy is going upstairs now –'

'NOOOOOO!' Harry winced as he was nearly deafened by their shrill protests as they clung to him like limpets.

'Shhh, daddy's not leaving,' Harry placed his hands on their heads and shot off a mild calming charm. 'I will only be gone a few seconds. We need to catch the last of the bas –' He stopped himself mid-word as he remembered that he was talking to his young sons, '– ket cases that took you.' he mentally patted himself on the back at the save. Who knew what Daphne would do to him if they started running their mouths and asking what the word meant. It had taken a hellish month of convincing her that Edmund's first word was "far" and not "fuck". That she had heard him unknowingly utter the profanity within hearing range of the then five month old tot a few minutes before he started saying it did not help matters.

Belatedly, he realised that he had been loudly cursing up a storm till he got to them. Oh well, if he knew Ron, they would have heard half the words he had said already. He'd blame Weasley. The last he heard, his former friend was cursing, and cursing loudly.

Still, Harry was not looking forward to future conversations. The questions he would have to find creative answers for…

He transfigured some of the garments into two Beater's bats. 'I don't think you are going to consent to putting on any of the clothes that are currently available, and I really don't have time to argue. So,' he cast a warming charm on the two to keep them warm. Handing them the bats, he continued. 'Hang onto these and hide behind the door till I come down for you. If you hear anyone else coming near and they don't announce themselves, ambush them and start swinging with everything you got and don't stop. Got it?' seeing them nod, he exited and moved upwards, checking every room as he did so.

By the time he reached Ron's old room, he suspected that they had escaped.

A look inside the garish carroty shrine to the Chudley Cannons confirmed that fact.

Harry backed off. Searching the area would only disturb the crime scene. Destroying it would make it nearly impossible to determine that it was a room in the first place. While he was good, and knew magic most did not, he was not an Auror or Hit Wizard. However, he now had unlimited resources at his disposal. He would send the best of the best track them down. And then… they will pay.

Going downstairs, he identified himself and collected the two boys. Conjuring blankets, he wrapped them up. Planting them firmly on his hips, he went down to the drawing room, nonchalantly stepping over the unmoving form of Molly Weasley (who he could tell had died from a broken neck) and ignoring the struggling form of Percy Weasley. He effortlessly conjured a large armchair as he sat down putting the two boys on his lap.

'What's the matter?' he asked in a low voice when he saw Edmund flinch.

'Hurts,' the seven year old boy whimpered leaning forward and burying his face in his father's robes.

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted Harry before he could ask the obvious question.

'Finally,' Harry said as the first of the Aurors burst in followed by members of the Magical Royal Protection Force.

'Your Majesty,' Kingsley Shacklebolt said in his deep voice. 'I see you have secured the situation.' He added wryly.

'Yes, and I have secured Princes Edmund and James, as you can see.' He winked fondly at the two confused boys. Turning to the Auror, he continued. 'Of the four, one has been captured and one killed. The remaining two, Hermione Granger-Weasley and Ronald Weasley have fled. As of now, we declare them traitors to the Crown. Find them, Auror. We authorise the use of any means necessary to extract information from the traitor Percy Weasley to gain additional information. Find out who the other perpetrators of this heinous act are.'

'Indeed, sir.'

Kingsley barked orders to his team, causing the remaining Aurors to spread out. 'The perimeter is secured by a contingent of Hit Wizards and some of the Protection Force.' He added. 'By your leave, your majesty, may I aid the investigation around the house?'

Harry inclined his head. 'And I hope someone has brought a Healer with them.' He remarked.

Immediately a man stepped forward. 'Healer Smythe, at your service, your majesty,' the man said with a bow, 'Chief Healer in Charge of St Mungo's.'

'Excellent.' Harry said, getting up. Holding the kids (who were both clinging to him) he continued. 'Edmund has a few … difficulties, so I think we should not wait …' he looked around at the silent Guard standing.

'Yes sir,' the commander, a grizzled bear of a man by the name of Hammond said crisply in response to Harry's unanswered question. 'Team, move out. Secure this room.' Noticing Mark slip in, Harry silently indicated him to stay. He handed James over to the younger man, silently thankful that the boy trusted Mark enough to let go of him for a few moments.

As the room was being cleared, the Healer reached into his bag and removed a high padded table.

Harry gently set Edmund on the table. After some coaxing and gentle prodding, he got the child to remove the blanket. Taking hold of the nervous child's hand, Harry squeezed reassuringly as the Healer started his examination

'Hm, looks like his royal highness has Tinea cruris.' The Healer said with one glance at the boy's inflamed crotch.

Seeing the concerned expressions on Harry's face, the Healer continued. 'Oh, it's nothing major, your majesty. Something many male athletes suffer from. It is easily curable, if extremely annoying. However, what is quite surprising is seeing something like this in a young boy. You normally see this in teenagers and adults.' He hummed in thought. 'Sometimes, it can be caused by moisture build up in the area, due to poor hygiene. Have you been wearing clean underwear, your royal highness?'

'Edmund?' Harry asked when the boy did not say anything. Inwardly he was quite relieved. Why couldn't the healer just use normal terms was beyond him.

Slowly the boy nodded sheepishly, his cheeks colouring. He remembered very well being lectured by his mother on numerous occasions about wearing clean underwear. He had never given it that much thought then.

'That was the only thing that was mine.' He said softly in defence.

'Well, that explains it.' The Healer said briskly as Harry squeezed the boy's hand reassuringly. 'I have a strong suspicion that his royal highness has been bathing without removing his underwear too.' seeing the boy nod again, the Healer smiled. 'Now, how about your royal highness lies down on his front? I think the rash may have spread to the buttocks.'

Slowly, and with much coaxing from Harry, the boy lay down and with a look of deep trepidation, turned onto his stomach.

Harry and the Healer inhaled sharply and Mark gasped as they saw the bruises on the bright red backside.

'Who did this?' Harry asked in a low and dangerous voice. Seeing the scared look on the Edmund's face, he gently stroked his hair and said soothingly. 'Daddy isn't mad at you. He just wants to know who hurt you so he can catch and punish that person.'

Shaking with silent tears, Edmund told them everything that happened earlier today. Harry just listened, closing his eyes and rubbing soothing circles on the boy's back. Ron was going to wish that he was never born after Harry was done with him.

The names the boy called them was quite amusing, though.

Mark tightened his hold on James, hugging him closer, earning a squawk of surprise and discomfort from the boy. He had enough experience with a wooden ruler to imagine how much more a wooden spoon would hurt. That had been after one night when he, at fifteen, had managed to get his hands on some firewhisky. Completely drunk out of his mind, he had the bright idea of taking Harry's Firebolt out for a midnight spin. It was only due to Harry's timely intervention that he had not broken his neck.

Mark remembered bawling like a baby the next day, regretting not only his actions, but suggesting that form of punishment in the first place. So, he felt sick as he tried to imagine how much worse it would have been on a boy of Edmund's age, especially with a rash on top of everything.

Meanwhile, the Healer ran his wand up and down Edmund's body. 'Slightly underweight … some bruising on the knees and palms … hang on.' He frowned, and waved his wand once more.

Both Harry and Mark watched with trepidation as the wand moved around the body, finally coming to rest on the left wrist.

'Someone has put a magic suppression bracelet on the boy.'

The grim pronouncement made things clear to Harry. It finally dawned on him that he hadn't seen Edmund change his hair colour even once from the mousy brown he was sporting. Now he knew why.

Closing his eyes, Harry ran his hands down the small thin wrist. He could see the object in his mind's eye. Opening his eyes, he focussed on the area and started hissing lowly. Slowly, the bracelet became visible. Still hissing, Harry curled his fingers around the gap between skin and metal, making the object glow brightly till, with a yank, it crumbled.

The effects of the bracelet coming off were instantaneous. Edmund let out a whimper as his magic suffused his body, chasing away the sick feeling he had ever since he stepped into the house. Instantly, his hair started cycling through various colours before settling on his favourite blue. One look at the boy told all present that he had gone to sleep. Harry winced internally as he gently coaxed the boy's thumb out of his mouth. All the progress the two of them had made to control this habit seemed to have gone in the past ten months.

'Well, this complicates matters slightly.' The Healer said. 'Normally, I would give him this,' he held out a phial 'For his rash, and apply some bruise salve on his bottom after the inflammation subsided, but I am afraid that we are going to have to wait for a while. Preferably till his magic comes under control. I would also like to have him under observation… we must make sure that his core isn't damaged, and also, we need to see if the magic stabilises. We'll also need to monitor Prince James as well, if my suspicions are correct.'

'Do they need to be in the hospital or can they be observed at home?' Harry asked seriously.

The Healer thought for a few moments. 'It can be done at your majesty's residence. I shall have a Healer attending shortly. Now,' he clapped his hands. 'Let's have a look at Prince James.'

Aside from an absence of bruising and rashes, James' condition was the same as Edmund's. Harry quickly took care of the bracelet placed around the boy's ankle getting similar results minus the display of Metamorphmagus abilities.

He looked at the two bracelets. Percy was in a lot of hot water.

But right now, he had to get his sons home.

Picking them both up, Harry headed towards the fireplace. Placing a sleeping charm on the two just in case, he activated the Floo network.

Reappearing in his study, he strode to their rooms and gently laid them back in their beds.

'Harry?' looking up, he saw Daphne standing in the doorway. The last two days had done wonders for the woman, bringing her back to life, even if she was still gaunt and frail looking.

Seeing the silent question in her eyes, he nodded and looked down at the sleeping form of James. 'They are fine. They just need some patching up.'

A twitch of his fingers had James sleeping in his pyjamas. Smiling at the boy, he went to Edmund's room to do the same.

Calling Dobby and another House-Elf, he assigned them to look over the boys, with instructions to receive the Healer that would be monitoring the children. As an extra precaution, he placed security and monitoring charms on their rooms. Then, he took Daphne's hand and led her to their room.

They had barely taken a step inside when Daphne crushed herself against him. Her mouth hungry as she kissed him with vigour and ferocity while her hands scrabbled at his clothes.

Harry responded with equal fervour. Crashing on their bed, the two were quick to divest themselves.

Their union was short, primal, animalistic, loud and slightly violent, borne from a year of frustration from being apart.

Daphne all but encouraged him to forcefully drive himself into her as she dug her nails into his back, drawing blood in some places. Harry, in turn, kissed, sucked and bit as he carried on like a man possessed.

By the time they had finished, both of them were marked by bruises, scratches and bite marks. Their union was a mix of pain and pleasure, as they both let all their negative emotions out.

Panting heavily, Harry pulled Daphne to himself, softly running his fingers over her body as he healed the various marks, his own wounds healing rapidly.

'Again,' she whispered, groping him.

The second time was a stark contrast to the first. It was slow, sensual and tender, with Harry paying special attention to Daphne before finishing.

Drifting off in their post coital bliss, Daphne whispered. 'I missed you.'

'Same here,' Harry turned to his wife. 'I hope I did not hurt you,' he added with concern.

'Well, I did want it rough the first time, and you delivered wonderfully. But the second time …' Daphne scrunched her face up. 'I have one small complaint. It felt very itchy and ticklish when your mouth was kissing me down there.' She ran a hand down his cheek, feeling the coarse beard. 'I didn't really like that.'

Harry snorted. 'Well then, if my queen wishes it, I shall remove the offending whiskers that caused you such discomfort first thing tomorrow.' He said pompously.

'But my liege,' Daphne replied with equal humour. 'The beard makes your majesty look so rugged and … majestic. Perhaps if his majesty would let his new beard grow for another month, it might be long enough and soft enough not to cause discomfort to his queen when he kisses her in her nether regions.'

Harry chuckled. 'The beard is hardly new. It is, after all, nearly a year old.'

Silence followed his statement. 'That beard is nearly a year old?'

Harry was slightly offended by the incredulity in her tone. 'Yes. Though, to be more precise, it is ten months old.'

'Harry,' Daphne began, carefully. 'I hate to break it to you, but I have seen my father sport a beard for three months before mother forced him to remove it. Also, while you were gone, Mark decided to go for two months without shaving before getting tired of having a hairy face. Both of them had thicker beards by the time they got rid of it. I could barely see the skin under Mark's beard after a week. Are you sure that yours is ten months, and not one month old?'

'What?' Harry was fairly insulted. 'No, it is ten months old.' He huffed. 'And I will have you know that this is a normal growth. Cyrus and Mark are just abnormally hairy.' It just occurred to him that he needed to shave once in three days. Perhaps that had some significance.

'Aw,' Daphne cooed, kissing him. 'Don't worry. I like my Harry just the way he is. A nice, thick, soft luxuriant amount of hair up here,' she caressed his head. 'An appropriate amount here,' she trailed her hand down the fine hairs on his chest. 'And a healthy amount down there,' she ran her fingers lightly through his pubic hair, caressing his balls before all but seizing his penis, pulling at and playing with the foreskin.

'Minx,' Harry growled into her ear, as he became excited again. 'I have half a mind to take you again.'

'And you may,' Daphne said. 'But first,' getting up from the bed, she pulled Harry towards the bathroom.

Seating him on the small padded ornamental chair inside (the presence and purpose of which still mystified Harry) Daphne slowly strode to the sink and took his shaving things, giving him ample time to admire her arse. Coming back, she straddled him and carefully applied the shaving foam on his face with the badger-hair brush. Taking the razor (charmed to never become blunt or draw blood) she slowly and gently started to shave his face, taking care not to leave any patches.

'There,' she declared once she was finished. Applying the aftershave lotion (the label claimed it made the skin especially smooth) she stroked his now hairless cheek (the label turned out to be right after all). 'Now you don't look like a grizzled middle aged man with an itchy scratchy beard.'

All thoughts of a response were driven out of Harry's mind as he finally found a use for the mysterious bathroom chair.

The next morning found Harry sitting in his study on an armchair by the fireplace and looking out at the grounds.

Hair still damp from the shower after his morning exercise, he absently stroked his cheek. It felt weird to have a smooth face. If he had to think deeper on it, he would say that he felt a bit lighter and free.

'Something I can help you with, Mark?'

He half turned in his chair to look at the doorway and the nineteen year old standing there.

'Your Majesty,'

The formal greeting accompanied by the bow of the head caught Harry's attention. Frowning, he turned around.

'Mark, quit the crap and sit down.' He said irritably, pointing at the sofa in front of him. 'I told you yesterday that we have known each other long enough that you needn't be so damned formal.'

'As his majesty wishes,' Mark said as he sat down, not meeting Harry's eye.

Harry swore silently. Ever since he first met the younger man, he could tell that something was bothering Mark. However, they really had no time to talk about it before, what with Harry's accession and subsequent rescue of his children. Hopefully now they could clear the air.

'Alright, what is the problem?' He finally said after a long moment of silence. 'I have noticed that you aren't yourself lately. Is it the Auror Academy? I do know that Dawlish kicked you out. I know for a fact that the reasons were political, so it shouldn't be a problem rectifying it.'

'No, sir, it is fine.' Mark protested in a whisper. 'I don't think that I was meant to be an Auror.'

Harry became annoyed. 'Rubbish.' He responded heatedly, making Mark flinch. 'I know how dedicated you were, so do not give me that.' He sat back, cooling down quickly.

'Now, how about you tell me what is eating you up inside?' he said after a long moment of silence.

Mark took a few deep breaths as if psyching himself up for something. Finally, he took out his wand and waved it over the coffee table separating them.

Harry looked at the conjured object with a raised eyebrow. 'I hope,' he finally said after a moment's silence. 'That you have conjured this because you want me to draw a straight line for you, for whatever strange reason.' he picked up the thick wooden foot-ruler. 'Because there is no other use I can see for this object, considering that I told you the last time that there was no way that I was going to use it for any other purpose afterwards.'

Mark looked at him with consternation. 'But, I deserve it. I let you down. If I had been a bit more careful, then Teddy and James wouldn't have been kidnapped! Your unborn child died! Winky and Randolph both died! And it was all because of my carelessness.'

Harry pinched his nose. 'OK, a few things. One, you know very well that I do not believe in corporal punishment. Yes, I may have dealt a few swats to James and Teddy before, but it was only to gain their attention when they were being unusually rowdy, and yes, I did use this ruler, or a very similar one, on you after that stupid stunt of yours the summer before your fifth year. But that was because you and Daphne spent nearly half a day badgering me to do that instead of sticking to my preferred method of restricting you in your room in the house with all privileges suspended till the end of summer. I am not comfortable with hitting or spanking. End of story. While I respect it, I don't get yours, Daphne's, Cyrus' or Alana's opinions that it should be used. And so, I shall not use it.'

Seeing Mark open his mouth to argue, Harry held his hand up. 'I am not discussing that again.'

'Secondly,' Harry continued. 'There really isn't anything to punish or forgive here. I know, in my heart, that you would have done your level best to take care of my family while I was away. None of us really anticipated that they would go to such lengths. On top of that, nobody really anticipated their resourcefulness. What happened was not something that we could have controlled. So unless you knew beforehand that they were going to do something like this, then it is not your fucking fault.'

'But I am still responsible.' Mark replied stubbornly.

With a supreme effort, Harry kept his face neutral. 'Alright,' he finally said, getting an idea about how to handle this. 'Let us pretend for a moment here that this is some alternate universe where you are, for whatever reason that you have come up with in your head, responsible for the children being kidnapped and Daphne's miscarriage. Let's also assume, in this alternate universe, that I actually believe that a good thrashing is the way to go, alright?' Harry looked questioningly at Mark as he repeatedly tapped the ruler in his hand.

'Um, sure,' Mark replied. But before Harry could say anything, he got up and moved to the desk. 'I think we should do it the same way as before.' He added, as he started to undo his belt.

'Oi shut up sit back down!' Harry interrupted the younger man before he could do anything else. 'I am not done speaking.'

But, you said –'

'Sit!' Harry pointed at the sofa with the ruler for extra emphasis.

'Now,' Harry resumed speaking once Mark meekly sat down. 'Even if all of that was true, and we were in such a dimension, I still,' he vanished the ruler, 'wouldn't go through with it.'

Harry leaned forward, speaking softly. 'Mark, you are now nineteen. In a few short months, you will be twenty. In other words, for better or worse, you are now an adult. You have been an adult for nearly three years now. So you can't absolve your guilt, imagined as it is, through a punishment as simple as a sore bottom, or an aching hand from writing lines, or the boredom that comes from standing in the corner or being confined to your room. You don't get to. All you can do is feel bad about the mistake you made, apologize, and promise both yourself and the people around you that it won't happen again. Or, in this case, understand that there was nothing that you could do or change. Soon you will be living by yourself, much to Daphne's and Alana's dismay, I am sure. You are going to have to get used to answering to yourself.'

Mark was silent for a long while. 'Growing up sucks,' he finally pronounced.

'Oh it isn't that bad.' Harry said lightly. He summoned a bottle of whisky and two tumblers. 'Grownups can do things children can't. Like have a drink at nine in the morning.' He poured a finger each and handed Mark a tumbler.

Snorting, Mark took the glass, unable to hide a small smile. With a toast, both men knocked back their drinks.

'Now, are we good?' Harry asked. 'Or do I have to get you drunk?' he held up the bottle. 'Don't worry, I learnt a lesson too that last time. The Firebolt has been securely locked away.'

'No, we're good … Harry.' Harry smiled as Mark relaxed.

'Good, now if you don't mind, I have to check on Teddy and James.'

'Harry?'

'Yes?' Harry said as he headed towards the door.

Mark had a gleam in his eye as he said. 'I'm glad you got rid of that beard. It looked stupid on you. After all, you can't grow a beard as awesome as mine.'

Harry's only response was a two-fingered salute.

I know, wonder of wonders, an early update!

Now, I have had a few people say that Harry is evil/dark. I will say, here and now, that he is neither of those. Evil people do things for selfish reasons. A good example is Voldemort.

Harry, on the other hand, is doing the things he is doing because he is quite convinced that his actions are necessary for the good of his people and the future of his society. He will not take enjoyment out of killing, or torturing. He shall do it because it is necessary.

Anyway, read and review!

40. Meetings

Walking towards Edmund's room, Harry mentally went through a list of things he would have to do in the near future. Between the different people he would have to meet, and the investigation into the kidnappings as well as the manhunt for Ronald and Hermione Weasley, his days were going to be busy. And that wasn't even considering the announcement of his succession to the crown and the preparations for the official coronation ceremonies both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

The Magical Accession Council had carried out their duties of announcing his coronation the previous night, by contacting the Daily Prophet and the Quibbler (the latter, while a smaller publication, had actually grown in popularity under new management which had done away with the more fantastic stories) as well as the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry had finished reading the special editions of both publications while listening to the Wireless after his morning routine and was quite satisfied with it. The tone was one of celebration and happiness. The morning's broadcast had also reported many parties that had taken place last night in a style reminiscent of the night of Harry's defeat of Voldemort.

The Obliviation Squad had their work cut out for them.

The announcement of Edmund's and James' rescue had only added to the good news. Apparently, Harry had gained a lot of sympathy over his children's kidnappings while he was away. However, there still was the mystery of why he had gone incommunicado for such a long duration.

To tackle that, Harry would be sending an official statement (his first as King of England) naming the culprits to the newspapers. The news that a senior official from the Department of International Cooperation and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were involved in this crime and were branded as traitors would be enough to shock the public.

Once that furore died down, there would be another release, giving more details regarding the "official" reason why the children were targeted.

By the time Harry was done, the public probably would be supporting his decision to leave.

But that was all in the future. Right now, he had two children to attend to.

'How is he?' he asked the Healer softly just outside Edmund's room.

'Y – Your majesty,' the Healer stuttered as he bowed awkwardly. 'The boy, I mean, his Royal Highness Prince Edmund is coming along quite well. He slept through the night and hasn't woken once. However, his magic is much too unstable for the healing potions.' He finished regretfully.

'Will there be any … future complications?' Harry asked with trepidation.

'Oh, no your majesty!' the Healer seemed to slowly become more comfortable around Harry, as he responded with increased confidence. 'Both Prince James and Prince Edmund will be fine soon enough. Their magic is in a state of flux, so it would be advisable to make sure that they are not too distressed. With enough bed rest, they will be up to scratch in no time.'

'Good,' Harry let out the breath he had been holding. 'I guess Edmund's injuries will have to heal without external magical help then.'

'Indeed, sir.' The Healer dug into his bag. 'But I do have a magically neutral remedy for the rash. It works slowly, but it should provide some relief.' He handed Harry a small jar. 'Use that and keep His Royal Highness clean and dry. It should clear the rash up. Also, both the boys' immunity will be low as the magic settles. So it would be advisable to take necessary precautions. Try to limit their exposure to germs for a week at least.'

Harry nodded in understanding. 'Does your majesty have any other need?' the Healer asked.

'No thank you, Healer Robinson. I shall have my House-Elf show you to the Floo.' An elf appeared at that moment upon that pronouncement.

'By your leave, your majesty,' the Healer bowed, hiding the surprise that he felt on his face upon Harry knowing his name. Remembering not to show his back to Harry, he slowly backed out of the hallway, only turning when Harry opened the door to Edmund's room.

The sleeping form within stirred as the door opened.

'Hello, sleepy-head.' Harry said as he sat down by the bed.

Edmund mumbled an absent greeting as he yawned expansively.

Harry could tell the moment the boy realised that he was talking to his father when Edmund closed his mouth with an audible click and looked around him with wide eyes. Finally resting his eyes on his father, the child launched himself at Harry, nearly strangling the man with the enthusiasm and intensity of his hug, breaking down into tears.

Harry hugged back with equal passion, making calming noises as he held and rocked the sobbing child, negating the wild magic Edmund was throwing around and repairing the damage that was being caused simultaneously.

'I thought it was a dream,' the boy finally said tearfully after he calmed down a little.

'No, it's all real,' Harry said soothingly. 'I told you I would be back.'

Just then the door opened and another blur shot through yelling 'Daddy!' at the top of his lungs.

Harry grunted, thrown back onto the bed as James collided with him.

The three of them lay there in silence for a moment before James started chattering away about what he had seen the last night, describing everything he saw in great detail. Harry was slightly disconcerted to learn that both boys took great pleasure with the exploding gnomes.

'Why aren't you hairy anymore, daddy?' James' question got his attention.

'Hairy?' Harry asked with bemusement.

'Yes, your beard,' James stated patting Harry on the cheek. 'It wasn't as big as Mr Pritchard's though.' He said, referring to one of his tutors.

Letting his head flop back on the bed, Harry chuckled self-depreciatingly. 'Well, mummy didn't like it very much, so she had daddy remove it last night.'

His remark had both boys immediately clamouring to see their mother.

'Alright, hold on,' Harry said with humour. 'First we have some business to take care of. James, could you be a dear and wait for me here? Teddy and I will just go to the loo for a moment and take care of his rash.'

Harry was quite surprised when his eldest unashamedly removed his pyjama bottoms right there and then instead. Before he had left, Edmund was notoriously modest around his younger brother.

Harry also noticed that James was surprisingly quiet. Generally, the younger one would start giggling in a bid to needle his older brother.

Mentally shaking himself, Harry gently applied the cream on the affected area, explaining to both the boys what the Healer had told him.

'Right, now let's go see mummy,' Harry said, screwing the lid of the jar closed while cleaning his hands magically. Floating the discarded pyjama bottoms to him, he held it out to Edmund.

Surprisingly, the boy shied away. 'Don't want to,' he mumbled.

'Well, we can't really have you running around half nude,' Harry exclaimed getting over his shock quickly. Even if the boy tended to wear unwashed clothes, he still made an effort to be clothed. James was the budding naturist.

Speaking of which...

'James,' Harry said with narrowed eyes, wondering how he had missed that. 'What did I tell you about wandering around only in your shirt?'

'Not to?' James replied with an innocent smile.

'Put them on,' Harry deadpanned floating out one of Edmund's other pairs of bottoms in front of the boy. The two of them were of the same size anyway.

'Why?'

Harry rolled his eyes at the whine. 'Because it is not appropriate,'

'Why?' James repeated plaintively. 'Why don't you try it too, daddy? It feels nice.'

'That's also not appropriate.' Harry replied wryly. 'Bottoms on … now,'

'But why?' James asked again as he slowly started to pull the trousers on.

'You'll understand when you get older,' Harry replied tolerantly.

'You always say that,' James grumbled. 'I am a whole year older.'

'Do you understand why you can't wander around naked?' Harry asked expectantly. Seeing the blank look on the boy's face, he nodded. 'Hence, you are not old enough.'

James quickly changed track. 'I understand now.'

'If you did, then I would not have to tell you to cover yourself up.'

Leaving James to process what just happened, Harry turned to Edmund. Seeing the obstinate look on the boy's face, he floated a pair of boxer shorts from a drawer.

Holding those out, Harry only gave Edmund a meaningful look. Pouting, the boy slowly put them on, helped by his father.

Shortly enough, the three were headed to the master bedroom where Daphne was still sleeping.

The reunion was slightly muted as the boys had managed to tire themselves out and Daphne, having just awoken, could only crush the two to herself.

'Dad,' Edmund said slowly, 'Why were those men talking to us strangely?'

Harry, who was watching his family finally together fondly, gave a small start. Exhaling, he started explaining everything.

By the time he was done, both boys' eyes were wide. 'S – So we're real live princes?!' Edmund finally said incredulously.

'Yes,' Harry said finally. 'Of course, yours and James' official title will become clearer later on. Generally the next in line will be Prince of Wales or, in the magical world, Prince of Avalon, but that was then. Now …' Harry shrugged.

'Now, I don't want either of you getting a big head over this. This does not change anything.' Harry continued warningly. 'Of course, you will now be under the public eye more often especially around Muggles.' He hid the tone of disgust. 'So you will have to learn how to handle that. I will try and keep you from that as much as possible, however. The limelight isn't as pretty as it seems.

'But all of that can wait for later, when you are older. Right now, it's bath time. After that, it's off to bed for the two of you.'

'But we're not sleepy,' James complained. On cue, he started to yawn.

'Of course not,' Harry replied with a smile on his face. 'But those are Healer's Orders. So, get going. I will have an elf have your bath things ready.'

Harry frowned when he saw Edmund bite his lip, looking like he wanted to say something.

'Can you …' he began shyly before stopping.

'Can you come with us, daddy?' James asked softly.

Harry frowned. Before he had left, the two of them were bathing on their own, without House-Elf supervision. Harry would never forget the time when Edmund started. After half an hour of the boy being in the bathroom, a concerned Harry did not know what to think when, upon opening the door, he saw his eldest son sitting under the running shower, holding an umbrella and reading a book.

The pictures he had taken of the oblivious boy were quite cute. Not that Edmund knew about those.

The last time the two of them had bathed together (much less with Harry) was years back when they were two.

Husband and wife exchanged glances. Harry was fully prepared to refuse as he did have quite a lot of work to do, not to mention that he wasn't about to bathe again. He also was of the opinion that the boys were old enough to clean themselves without supervision. But the pleading look on Daphne's face stopped him.

'Alright,' Harry sighed. He definitely would have to think of finding a Mind Healer to talk to the boys, lest serious problems develop later on.

Another bath later, Harry had bundled the kids into Edmund's expansive bed (another first) and left them with Daphne (as the boys were reluctant to let either parent out of their sights). Exiting, he headed back down to his study.

His first meeting was with Hammond, who was standing outside the door of his study in rigid attention.

'May I ask for a few moments of his majesty's time?' the burly man said with a formal bow after Harry acknowledged him.

'You may,' Harry said with a nod.

Opening the door, the man bowed Harry inside.

'What is it?' Harry said once the two of them were seated.

'Begging your majesty's pardon, but I must share a concern.' Hammond began slowly. 'I do not think it was wise of your majesty to have left yesterday without the protection of my men. It is the job of the Royal Protection Force to ensure your majesty is not harmed. We cannot help but feel that going into a hostile environment without us goes against our intended purpose with regards to your person.'

'I understand,' Harry finally said after giving the man's words some thought. 'My wellbeing is a matter of great concern for you and your team. However, in my … our defence, we have been quite used to dealing with things on our own.' Harry mentally shrugged, he would have to get used to using the Majestic Plural. 'I have gone into far more hostile situations in the past and have come up on top. I am used to independence.'

Hammond looked relieved. 'I understand, sir. Your exploits in the past are well known, after all. But now, the country is invested in your majesty's health. The risks are far greater now. I would therefore implore your majesty to please consider using security.'

'Very well,' Harry replied. 'But you must understand that I am not used to this. This is new for me and, I wager, new for you. After all, your charges have been far more vulnerable than I.'

'Indeed, your majesty,' Hammond replied with a rueful grin. 'As you rightly said King George and Queen Elizabeth were far more … fragile, no offence. However, they were also easier to keep up with.'

'Ah, you have been in the business long, then.' Harry commented with interest.

'I turn ninety in a few months, sir.' The man replied. 'In fact, my grandson has just joined the service recently.'

'How is the security around the house going?' Harry finally said after some silence.

'The men are getting acclimated to the environment.' Hammond replied briskly. 'The house may be significantly bigger than Sandringham, but that is not an issue. However, this is the first time we are working in a magical house.'

'Get someone from the Auror Office or the Hit Wizard forces to act as a consult.' Harry replied. Grimacing mentally and wondering if he had taken leave of his senses, he added, 'I suggest talking to Alastor Moody first, however. As far as security goes, he is the best. Also, talk to my House-Elves. They might be small, but they are loyal, and can pack quite a punch.' Seeing the man nod, Harry continued. 'And finally, you could get your men to drop the Disillusionment Charms and stop using the invisibility cloaks. While I do know that they haven't come anywhere near the rooms, or the family's wing, I want my children to be able to see you around the house at the very least. It might help increase their sense of security.'

Hammond was flummoxed. 'How –' seeing the smirk on the King's face, he regained his neutral expression. 'Of course, sir, I shall inform the guards.'

'Good, we shall speak later about other security arrangements.'

'Very well, your majesty,' Hammond said, getting to his feet and bowing.

Once the chief of security had left, Harry called Dobby. After a short discussion with the elf (whose English had improved dramatically in the past year) Harry managed to achieve a few things. Firstly, he got the elf to call him "Master Harry", or "sir" (as opposed to the far more flowery alternative involving his new royal status) and secondly, he established Dobby as the personal protector of Edmund and James. The elf would exclusively watch over the boys and see to their needs, as long as Harry approved of the latter, of course.

Done with that, Harry joined his wife for a short lunch. The children were still asleep, and would be woken up later on.

His first meeting that afternoon was with Kingsley.

'So what do you have for me?' Harry said after the formalities were observed.

'We finished our investigations of the property where the children were recovered.' The man handed Harry a file. 'These are our results.'

Harry swiftly read through the file.

'Yes, Molly Weasley,' Harry closed his eyes when he saw the part about her death. It had been marked as accidental with a question mark tacked on at the end. 'Her death was an unfortunate accident. I only wanted to get her out of the way. She was, after all, standing between me and the children, her wand raised and threatening. I did not anticipate that she would bounce off the walls and stairs, breaking her neck in the process.'

Harry noticed Kingsley relax infinitesimally. He supposed that the man did not approve of Molly dying. If Harry was sad that she had died, it was because he wanted her to be tried and executed. His blood boiled every time he remembered her face and the way she stood in front of him as if she was right to take his children away from him.

He relaxed the fist he made with his right hand. The woman was dead. Nothing else mattered.

'I shall make a note of that, sir.' Kingsley stated.

Harry resumed reading the file. When he got to the end, his eyebrows shot up.

'Well, someone made a mistake.'

Ronald Weasley sat at the table with his head in his hands. Hermione had still not given up sobbing. After their Portkey had whisked them away to their destination, he had picked up the second Portkey lying a few feet away and activated that, taking them to their final destination.

It was Hermione who was the first to realise the crucial mistake they had made after they had put up their tent and set up their wards.

'Rose,' was the first word she whispered ever since they had made their escape.

For one long moment, they stared at each other in horror as they realised that in their haste to get away, they had forgotten their daughter.

But that moment passed quickly. Both of them sprang into action almost simultaneously. Hermione bolted for the entrance of the tent, intent on Apparating back to The Burrow, her panic stricken mind only telling her one thing; to get to her child.

Ron, on the other hand, moved to block Hermione. As much as it broke his heart, he knew that they could not afford to go back. Going back would mean their heads. It would not be of any help to Rose.

It had taken a fair bit of struggling, but Ron won in the end after he stunned Hermione.

The argument the next morning had been memorable. It was the first time Ron had won without Hermione even being able to gain a foothold.

Hermione had started off by first blaming him for leaving Rose behind. She had then started calling him irresponsible, while accusing him of being uncaring about their child.

That set Ron off.

'Irresponsible?!' he snarled. 'How dare you! I was the one who took care of Rose when you were away. Me! I fed her, I clothed her, I taught her, and I took care of her. You may have provided the money, but that was it. I was there to put her to sleep while you were out there kissing the wrinkled arses of those old men.' He snorted derisively. 'If anyone has any cause to go back, it is me! Not the ever absent mother.'

Seeing Hermione about to open her mouth again, no doubt to make some furious point, he spoke over her. 'And I wouldn't have to go back there if you hadn't brought those brats into the house! I told you, both you and Percy, that it was a bad idea. But did you listen? No! Stupid bint...'

'I did not kidnap those children!' Hermione whispered furiously, her face flushed. 'How dare –'

'But you had the chance to send them back, which is just as bad.' Ron countered without missing a beat or letting Hermione finish. 'All of this is your fault.' He continued in a furious voice. 'You were the one who kidnapped those children. You were the one who played with the big fish. And you were the one who did so without even seeing to the safety of the family.' He punctuated each sentence with an accusing jab of his finger.

'So you don't get to say that this was my fault.'

'Oh, and you are completely blameless in this, aren't you?' Hermione screeched after a long pause.

'I don't see how I am culpable here.' Ron responded with a raised eyebrow. 'It isn't as if I could go and return those kids. Not without you threatening me. Don't think I have forgotten that.'

'Oh yeah, well, this is your escape plan,' Hermione blustered. 'And the direct result of this is Rose getting left behind!' she smirked at the look on Ron's face.

'And you had a better idea to get us out?' Ron replied matter-of-factly, causing the smug smile to slip off her face. 'Other than the Call-The-Old-Men plan that you were so desperately trying to execute?'

He chuckled at the expression of mute impotent rage on her face. 'Yeah, I thought so. Looks like I was the only one who had a viable escape strategy. And I had to contend with taking you out of there. It wasn't as if you were exactly responsive. My initial plan included taking Rose, you know. And that depended heavily on you keeping your fucking head! But now I realise the mistake I made. You never could keep your head in a stressful situation. First it was the Devil's Snare all those years ago. But there's no wood.' He mocked in a high falsetto. 'Now, it's this. I should have realised that. So yeah, now that I think about it, you are right; it is my fault. It is my fault for thinking that you had a fucking brain. Oops.'

Sneering, he turned away from her, heading towards the tent flap.

Whirling around, he challenged his wife. 'Go on, call those old men now. I know you still have that mirror on you. See if they respond with some lovely miraculous idea that is going to get the most powerful man in Britain off our backs. I am going out for a walk to get some firewood. If you plan on going back home, which no doubt will be crawling with Aurors now, do leave a note so I know what to do.' Whirling around, he left the tent.

Breathing heavily, Hermione picked up the mirror and practically yelled for the marquess of Diagon, not expecting an answer.

She was quite surprised when her reflection faded to reveal the familiar features of Lord Diagon who wore a very irritated look.

'Yes,' the man snapped out.

'Finally,' Hermione huffed softly, but not softly enough as Diagon's upper lip curled minutely. 'You have to help us,'

Diagon's eye twitched minutely at the demanding tone the woman was using. 'Oh?' he said unconcernedly. 'And why is that?'

'I think you know why!' Hermione practically shrieked. 'You owe me! We only agreed to keep those children because you had taken them in the first place!'

'If I recall,' Diagon drawled. 'It was at your behest. You were the one with the idea.'

Not giving her time to speak, Diagon continued, his tone now arctic. 'You see, Mrs Weasley, there is no way on this planet that either I or the Order is going to help you. Why, you ask? It is because you are nothing but a pawn on the chessboard of life. When presented with a choice between my life and family and yours … well, I guess you can imagine what our choices are going to be. It isn't anything personal, it's just business.' He paused, 'Actually, no, it sort of is personal for me. I don't really like you since I find you to be an annoying swot. Goodbye.'

Saying this, Diagon threw the mirror down. Hermione flinched reflexively and closed her eyes when a jet of light left the aristocrat's wand and seemingly headed towards her. When she next saw the mirror, it only showed her horrified reflection as she realised that Diagon had destroyed his mirror.

An hour later, Ron entered the tent to find his wife bawling away in the bedroom. However, this time he couldn't find it in himself to be bothered.

For the first time in his life, Ron wondered if he had chosen the right woman to marry. He found himself wondering how things would have been different had he not proposed to Hermione after finding out she was pregnant. If, perhaps, he had taken the less honourable route and left her to raise the child on her own.

But then he thought of Rose, his darling daughter that he had spent six magical years raising … the small child – his child – that he had watched grow up.

No, he wouldn't have changed anything. Every moment with Rose was worth it.

Taking a deep breath did not do anything to stop the flow of tears.

'Nicolas,'

The man in question bowed from the neck, not that Harry could see it, what with his back turned towards the alchemist as he gazed out at the gardens of Buckingham Palace.

'Your majesty,'

As The King turned around slowly to face him, the ancient alchemist felt the very air become heavy with magic. The lights in the room flickered due to the magical interference.

Nicolas may be long-lived, he may be extremely intelligent and talented, with a wealth of experience under his belt, but there was one deficiency that he had. Magically speaking, he and his wife were average.

In a full out battle, the amaranthine alchemist was no match for powerhouses like Dumbledore and Voldemort. He relied on guile, experience and his knowledge to win the day. His many inventions had won quite a few battles against people more powerful than him.

However, here was someone that he knew with certainty that he could not beat. The new King was far too powerful. Not only that, but Nicolas had sworn his loyalty to the Royal Bloodline. His own magic would ensure that attacking the King, unless he switched nationalities, would end badly for him.

Of course, there still was that contract he had the boy sign years back. Perhaps that might help him…

'Please … sit,' Harry said with a cold smile after Nicolas took his hand and bowed. The crown on his head gleamed dully, a testament to his authority and power.

As the two took their seats something seemed to shift in The King's eyes and suddenly the heavy oppressive feeling disappeared.

'It has been a long time since we last met…' Harry finally said after a long moment of silence. He opened a crystal decanter of firewhisky and poured the contents into a tumbler of cut diamond, pointedly not offering his guest a glass. 'So much has changed.' Languidly swirling the contents of the tumbler, he took a sip, savouring the feel of the alcohol as it burned its way down his throat.

'For how long have you known that you were royalty?' Nicolas spoke up, ignoring what Harry said.

'Did you know,' Harry's gaze was firmly on the glass in his hand as he pretended not to hear what Nicolas had said, smoothly shutting down the other man's attempt at taking control of the meeting. 'That the minute I was crowned, and took on my regnal name, all magical contracts that I had signed beforehand were voided?'

The King's smile was shark-like as he spotted the momentary look of consternation on the alchemist's face from the corner of his eye. 'I had no idea myself,' he continued casually. 'Till I got the chance to look at the contract you had me sign all those years ago.'

Harry took out a roll of parchment. Opening it, he showed Flamel the contract. A glance at the bottom showed that the name had disappeared.

'So,' The King continued, now leaning back and staring at the beautifully decorated ceiling of the White Drawing Room. 'In case you were wondering what this means, it's quite simple: I am no longer your pawn. And,' brilliant green eyes pinned Nicolas down. 'To answer your question, I knew for quite some time. I also knew that allying with you would be to become your pawn. But the problem was that I needed you at that time. While I may have dedicated most of my time in training to defeat Voldemort, I knew that it wasn't enough. So, I kept any and all information concerning me from you and slowly, right under your decrepit nose, I planned and plotted so I could finally set myself free.'

The heaviness suddenly reappeared. 'Did you think that after Dumbledore I would consent to being some other old man's pawn?'

Moments of tense silence followed this proclamation,

'Now, here's the situation.' Harry finally said. 'I could very well find some way to make your life miserable. As King, in an absolute monarchy no less, it is quite easy for me to do. However, you do retain some use for me. Like me, you want the Muggles out of the picture (though you have been at it for a relatively longer time). The difference, of course, is that while I see them as a threat to the magical population due to the increase in populations and thus, the decrease in the ease by which secrecy can be maintained, you just want them gone to avenge your son's death. Which, considering that it happened a really long time ago, is kind of sad, really. I mean, you had your revenge on the main instigators.

'Anyway, here we are; two people with the same goal. A common enemy, if you will. So I propose a new alliance.'

Harry took out a new roll of parchment and placed it in front of Flamel.

'What are the new terms for the deal,' Nicolas finally bit out.

'Your personal army shall now belong to us.' Harry replied, slipping into pluralis maiestatis with ease. 'They shall be the new military arm of the Department of Mysteries. Along with that, we take full rights of all your inventions and research, excepting the Philosopher's Stone, which we shall allow for your personal use. Though, we shall take the notes you have written concerning the artefact and we also reserve the right to commandeer it as we see fit. You shall also share all your plans, past present, and future, with us and shall only carry out actions after we approve of it. Finally, an oath, both from you and your wife; that you shall not change or attempt to change citizenship or attempt to seek residence anywhere else other than Britain. We have included that oath in the contract, by the way, so all you have to do is sign.'

'That doesn't sound much like an alliance,' Flamel replied with a stony expression.

Harry raised his eyebrows. 'Indeed? We offer you legitimacy! An increase in funds and resources! Your little army will be bolstered with Aurors and Hit Wizards. Some' he stressed on the word, 'of the secrets of the Department of Mysteries will be available to you.' He leaned forward bringing his hands together under his chin. 'We think that this is quite a generous bargain.'

Flamel picked up the multi-page contract. 'I shall have my lawyers –'

Harry chuckled lowly, interrupting the man. 'This offer is available now. Either you sign it, or …'

Backlit green eyes shifted ever so infinitesimally to the right, over Flamel's shoulder, causing the ancient man to turn around.

Flamel took in a deep breath as he saw the phalanx of floating knives and daggers all pointed at him.

'The daggers are made of top quality goblin steel.' Harry said conversationally. 'Half are imbued with basilisk venom and the other half have been exposed to Nundu breath.' He leaned back, his hands still on the table.

'I know that you are practically immune to any and all poisons, thanks to your little … tonic.' Harry continued as Flamel turned slowly to face him. 'But I would love to see how well your immortal heart beats after it has a few knives stuck into it.'

Harry floated one of the daggers forward till it was eyelevel to Flamel, making sure that the alchemist noticed the casual display of wand less magic.

'I see you have been quite … busy in Africa, your majesty.'

Harry was quite impressed with how Flamel managed to keep his voice steady despite the blade that was two inches away from his left eye. He wasn't too worried about the other man having any hidden tricks. The way his face was sweating gave the game up.

'Very well, where do I sign?'

Harry smirked as the old man finally put quill to parchment. As he leaned back in his chair, the pressure in the air dropped and the knives vanished.

'So, I hope you have a better plan for your goals. Merlin knows that your previous ones sucked. I do admit that inciting war and watching those Muggles fight each other is quite fun. But you have to admit, we need another strategy. Then again, your Muggle friend did help me out tremendously the past year.'

Nicolas twitched minutely, causing Harry to smirk. 'Yes, I mean that man. I found out about his connexion to you and the few events that you have … orchestrated through him. He was quite valuable in, ah, helping me jump the queue.'

'H – How…?'

'Perhaps next time you get yourself a pawn, I suggest that you make sure that the pawn either does not know that he is a pawn or that he has limited information about your dealings. After all, as I have demonstrated just now, one cannot rely only on magical contracts and oaths.' Nicolas could not help the flush of colour on his cheeks at the condescending tone as Harry spoke to him.

'Oh I guess I made you unhappy.' Harry said in that same condescending tone, a large smug grin on his face. 'So I think we shall leave off for today. Let's meet later, when we are both fresh. It will give you time to ensure that Perenelle signs the contract too.' Harry smiled. 'I think it would be a good idea to send people to escort you … one must make sure that nothing happens.' He flicked his finger, making a Patronus appear.

'Hammond, have the escort ready to take our dear guest to his house.'

As the magical construct cantered away, turning invisible as it neared the door, Harry turned to the alchemist. 'Goodbye Nicolas.'

'George, you might want to come and look at this.'

The man in question looked up from his paper to his twin.

Fred and George Weasley had come far in life. Thanks to the success of their business, which now had branches in France and Italy, with plans to buy Zonko's imminent, they were no longer living in a small flat above their Diagon Alley shop.

Each of them had enough money to buy a decent sized house in a well-off neighbourhood. However, they chose to pool their money and buy one larger house surrounded by a small bit of land in the countryside instead.

Fred lived in one side of the house, and George the other. They met regularly during mealtimes, in their basement laboratory, and holidays. Otherwise, managing their business took them to separate places. One brother would be overseeing the branch in Milan while the other would be in Paris, Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley in the same day.

While it was true that they could afford (and had) supervisors, both brothers preferred a hands-on approach. It gave them something to do besides invent. Besides, this was their baby.

Speaking of which … once they bought Zonko's over, they would have enough to start hiring a research team of their own. There was only so much creativity that the two of them could come up with. Also, they wouldn't stay young forever, and what better way to keep their products relevant to the young and the mischievous than having a young innovative team?

George took the letter from Fred, 'I wonder who this is.' He mused.

'Didn't you notice the snowy owl leave?' Fred responded dryly.

George whipped his head towards the window. Sure enough, he could make out the fast disappearing form of one very distinctive owl. 'Ah,' he said. 'So this isn't from one of your kinky girlfriends asking for a threesome.'

Fred gave his snickering twin a dirty look. 'Oh for the love of – That was one time! Once! And I only showed you the damn letter because you insisted! It's not my fault you were being so nosy!' he shuddered. 'Why would that stupid woman think that I would be willing to do that with you or vice versa …? Gah!'

George only smirked as he looked at the open letter.

'Harry wants to see us,' he stated with eyebrows raised as he finished reading the summons.

Over the years, the twins had been keeping in touch with their silent partner and the person they considered their brother in everything but blood. Subsequently, they were quite friendly with Daphne and Mark and rather popular with the children (who the twins could not wait for to grow up some more. They had big plans for the boys…)

They were quite shocked when they found out that Harry had to leave the country. The fact that it was because of Hermione and Percy (according to Mark) only served to anger them more.

Bill had told them after the attack on the Tonks household about the money their parents and Ron were getting from Dumbledore. Any disbelief they felt upon hearing that news had been swiftly killed when they saw the proof.

Harry had insisted that all of that was between him, Molly, Arthur, Ron and Hermione. He had made them swear not to get involved in the unpleasantness, saying that he would not be in any way responsible for the splitting up of a family.

Not that they were planning on listening to him anyway. All three of them thought of Harry as their little brother. It was their duty to confront their family and tear them a new one for what they did.

However, they never did get their chance.

Arthur's death had completely changed Molly Weasley, making the normally overbearing woman downright controlling.

For whatever reason, she had demanded that each of her sons give up what they were doing and get respectable jobs in Britain. By which she meant the Ministry. To top it all, she had not even waited for Bill's wedding to get over.

Needless to say, none of the brothers were happy about her demands. After his wedding, Bill had been quick to get out of the country and to France with his wife where he had applied for a transfer to Egypt, while Charlie was equally swift in moving to Romania and applying for a transfer to another dragon reserve in the country. Meanwhile, the twins would flit between stores to minimise contact with their mother. A few discreetly placed inventions of theirs alerted them of the arrival of either her, Ron or Hermione. They weren't too worried about Percy.

Once Ginny was made aware of what those three had done (and George would never admit that she had made him sing like a canary within five minutes) she too wanted out. To help her out, the four brothers had chipped in to get her out of the house as soon as possible.

Although, Harry was a minor reason compared to the fact that her mother was planning on her be a housewife for a "nice boy". Ginny was far too free spirited for that.

And so what was once a large family was now split exactly in two, a fact that George, ever obsessive with even numbers, had commented on many times.

'I hope he doesn't think that we know anything about Ron and Hermione's whereabouts.' Fred spoke up, recalling the paper he had read a few days back.

Neither of them knew how to react to the news that Ron, Hermione, Percy and their own mother had been complicit in the kidnapping of Harry's children. Combined with the news of Harry's accession, a week beforehand, they were thrown in for quite a loop.

The form of Percy Weasley stirred as the door to the dungeon opened.

Ever since he had been moved from the Ministry holding cells to this new dungeon and actually manacled there, he had been given no rest.

Bright lights would come on every time the sun sank below the horizon, making it hard for him to get a moment's sleep. Whenever he nodded off from sheer exhaustion, he would be woken up by a loud noise or a drop in temperature.

What was worse was that he was barely being fed. The only form of nourishment he got was a jug of water.

So it was quite a surprise when the door finally opened.

He barely had any time to react before he was roughly yanked to his feet.

A fist crashed into his stomach, making him groan in agony.

'Enough!' a hidden voice commanded. 'Status report,'

'The prisoner has been kept isolated and disoriented as ordered, sir,' a nearer voice replied. 'We have made sure that he gets less than five minutes of sleep at a stretch.'

Percy squinted up at the doorway. His glasses had long been taken from him. In fact, he did not have a stitch of clothing on his body.

'Good, good,' the first voice said. 'It has been exactly five days?'

'Yes, sir,'

Rough hands pulled his hair down, forcing his face up. Another hand grasped his jaw and turned it here and there.

Fingers pried his eyes wide open, making him stare into a pair of black eyes.

'The prisoner is ready for interrogation. Any Occlumency barriers have broken by now … pity … I was expecting him to have lasted a bit longer.' There was a pause. 'Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!'

They Apparated to Harry's house on the day of their meeting, a few yards from the main gate.

Their first impression of the manor was that it was just the same, despite what had gone on the past few days. As they neared the gates, the differences hit them immediately in the form of a very intimidating looking guard.

Fred's eyebrows rose as the guard informed his superior through what had to be a very discrete type of communication device. In their line of work, they both had experimented with a variety of ways by which they could establish a method by which two people could communicate easily without others knowing. It definitely would be a hit with the kids.

They had researched what the Muggles had come up with in their quest. While what they found out was quite impressive, it wasn't to this scale.

Shaking himself out of his internal musing, he followed his twin and the guard across the grounds. Besides them, there was nary a single soul present in the grounds. Not that he would blame them. It was far too cold to be outside.

Though, there was a great chance that the property was crawling with invisible guards.

The inside of the house, while still familiar, had guards present intermittently at every doorway. The visitors noted with interest that the gloves on their left hands were slightly different from the one on their right.

'Right, a few things that should be noted before you meet His Majesty,' the voice of the person who they were handed to by the guard outside broke them out of their thoughts.

With the air of a person who has done this many times, the man leading them to the study told them about the protocol that should be followed when meeting the King of the United Kingdom. By the time he was done, they had reached their destination.

Harry stood up when he heard the knock on his door. He hid his shock when the twins, in a never-before seen display of dead seriousness, formally greeted him according to the protocol that he had been extensively trained in by the Queen.

As soon as the door shut, he spoke up. 'Is there any reason why the two of you decided to enter the house through the front gates and not through the fireplace in the Entrance Hall as you usually do?'

When no answer was forthcoming, Harry continued. 'After all, I thought we were like family. It is the main reason why I have given the two of you reprobates access to my fireplace while other friends have to come via the main door.'

'So does that make us princes as well,' Fred finally said cheekily after a moment of contemplative silence.

Harry snorted and just like that, the tension in the room was lifted.

'Oh I have missed the two of you,' he said, wiping tears of laughter.

'So how are the two of you holding up?' Harry finally said after a few moments.

Fred shrugged mutely, looking out of the window.

'It's hard,' George finally said slowly. 'I know that what they did was horrible, but in the end, they are still family.'

'Horrible isn't even beginning to cover what they did,' Harry muttered.

'What do you mean,' Fred asked warily, wondering if he wanted to know the answer.

Looking at the desktop Harry haltingly described the condition he had found his children in.

'Those …' George inhaled sharply, horror clearly writ on his features as Fred clenched shaking hands. 'I can't believe …'

'Nor could I believe that they would sink so low,' Harry finally said, keeping a tight hold on his emotions.

'How are they,' Fred asked softly. For some reason, he found himself unable to meet Harry's eye.

'Traumatised, according to the Mind Healer that is counselling them,' Harry said lowly. 'They insist on keeping either one of us in their sights. And by "us" I really mean "me". Not a day has gone by when I wake up to find them in my bed sandwiched between Daphne and me. Once they woke up and didn't find me around … well, all hell broke loose then.' He rubbed his forehead. 'They even insist on bathing with me.

'The worst of it was Teddy. Not only did he put up quite a fight, and thus drove Ron into a fit of rage, but apparently one of those four, I bet it was Ron, let it slip that he was adopted.'

The twins winced. 'How did that go?' George asked.

'Well, he didn't take it too badly,' Harry said after a few moments of thought. 'Although, I did have the very unenviable task of telling my seven year old son that his birth father was nothing but a lousy cowardly runaway a whole year before schedule. And that is without telling the boy that it was because of his birth father running his mouth that his birth mother died even before she could properly give birth to him.' Harry grimaced. 'I had hoped that he wouldn't ask me how his mother had died, though I shouldn't be surprised. At least the two of us have three years to prepare for that conversation.'

Harry exhaled slowly. Thankfully, Edmund had taken the news quite well. His only questions had been why Lupin had run off and left him and Nymphadora behind and how had his mother died. Harry had promised to answer those questions later on when the boy turned ten. The initial plan had been to tell Edmund about Lupin and Nymphadora when he turned eight or at the latest, by ten. Daphne had expressed a preference for a later time, possibly never, but Harry felt that it would be best to get it over with as soon as possible. He also did not want to lie to his son. Not for something this big. For the first time, he appreciated the difficulty in imparting such news to a child. No matter how old Edmund would get, he would still be Harry's little boy. The urge to protect both of them from the evils of the world was strong.

That was also one of the other reasons that he wanted Muggles gone, now that he thought about it.

'Anyway, forget that. I do have some things I need to discuss with you. To begin with, Ron and Hermione's situation, as unpleasant as it is, presents us with an opportunity.'

Leaning forward, Harry continued. 'What do you know of your family's history?'

Both the twins frowned. 'What has Malfoy told you?' Fred asked warily.

Harry cocked an eyebrow. 'Draco says a lot of things. But I do tend to research those things to test their veracity. Whatever reason your grandfather had for doing what he did, the fact is that he was cast out of his family and whoever he sired named Blood Traitors. Society in general isn't looking upon the Weasleys with any good favour, and the Malfoys would love nothing more than to see misfortune upon you.

'I know that Septimus Weasley has done the Malfoy family great injustice. He has cheated them, and he took Abraxas Malfoy's bride. That in turn lead Septimus' father to disown him from the family to save the Wesley name. He also willed the Wesley fortune to the Malfoys as recompense for his son's actions.'

'And yet, that is not enough,' George said with bitterness. 'Even ending Septimus' life wasn't enough for the high and mighty Malfoys. No, his son Lucius has to go after Arthur Weasley and us.'

'I know' Harry replied. 'Draco mentioned that his grandfather had sworn to end Septimus and his Weasley descendants. However, I have a way out of this.'

Once he knew he had their attention, the King continued. 'As far as I know, the man once known as William Weasley has changed his name to Guillaume and has taken on his wife's surname, correct?' Getting a nod from the twins, he continued. 'Charles Weasley also has plans to take on his girlfriend's last name after he marries her.

'That leaves the two of you and Ginny.' He looked at the two redheads in question. 'One of you could take up the Prewitt name and headship of the family. With Muriel's death, you are eligible. The other could take up your great-grandfather's family name, Wesley. If you wish it, you have enough capital to buy back the Prewitt and Wesley seats once Draco officially declares the Feud to have ended. Then, either of the four of you could adopt Ginevra, thereby changing her name. Thus, the only Weasleys left behind would be Percy, Ronald and Hermione Weasley. And considering … recent developments, upsetting as they are, those three have been declared traitors. Once the first two are captured, they will share Percy's fate, no offence,' he added to Fred and George.

George closed his eyes as Fred spoke for the two of them. 'It's no problem, Percy was a prat anyway, and we never thought that Ron was our brother.' Even if his tone was light, Harry could see the pain in the man's eyes.

Harry only nodded at the twins silently. Platitudes would not help here. 'I know that this is upsetting, but we can make the best of a bad situation. I have been able to convince Draco to forgive the Blood Feud, which will therefore make it possible for you to regain your family name and honour.'

'He has?' Fred said with raised eyebrows.

'Well, he agreed that it was time to let things go,' Harry replied. 'Of course,' He admitted. 'The thing with Ron and Hermione might have helped matters.'

'That's … nice of him,' George finally said. 'Thank you.'

Harry smiled inwardly as a long standing rivalry was brought to a close. Fred, George, Bill, Charlie and Ginny were genuinely nice honourable people. He did not mind relieving the stigma of the Feud from them. The only reason he had not done anything earlier was because he lacked the power, and Ron and Hermione were still around.

Harry hoped that Fred and George bought back the family seats. It certainly would be interesting to have those two in his court.

'Now that we have that out of the way, there is one other reason why I called you over.'

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. 'After I took the kids home from their captivity at The Burrow, the Aurors who were securing the property found a little girl hiding in a kitchen cupboard.'

'Let me guess,' Fred said dryly, 'Ron's kid.'

'I have ensured that her name never made it to the papers. Merlin knows that she does not need that kind of attention.' He paused to look at both of them in the eye. 'I feel that it would be a good idea if she were quietly sent off to one of her uncles. Have her in a nice stable home as quickly as possible. Since the two of you happen to be the closest, geographically speaking …' he trailed off.

'You want us to take her in?' Fred's tone matched George's expression of incredulity.

'Bill and Charlie are an option too,' Harry replied dryly. 'I leave it to the four of you. The only reason I am telling the two of you is because you are nearer and thus able to do something faster. Bill is somewhere in Egypt, Charlie is in Romania, and Ginny is currently enjoying La Dolce Vita in France with Gabrielle. As much as I hate to say it, it's up to you two.'

The two brothers sat blinking owlishly for a few moments. 'That …' began George, 'Isn't a good thing … raising a kid …' he noisily breathed out.

'What my eloquent and verbose twin here is trying to say,' Fred spoke up, 'is that we are not ready to raise a child. Also, we don't think said child is ready for us. I mean, can you imagine us being respectable people who raise a child?'

Harry shrugged. 'It's up to you. Though, I seriously suggest that you take her in … temporarily, at the least. At least till you can arrange something more permanent with Bill or Charlie. Besides, if I had the choice, I wouldn't mind being raised by people like the two of you.'

The twins blushed at the comment.

'You seem eager to have her out of the orphanage.' George remarked lightly.

'Well, she does have family nearby.'

'Why? I mean, considering whose daughter she is and all…'

Harry considered the twins. Both of them had a look of honest curiosity on their faces. 'So?' he finally said. 'I am not about to judge her by the actions of her parents. I have experienced enough of that to not want it to happen to someone else or, for that matter, do it to someone else. The girl is only seven. She is innocent.'

The room lapsed into silence after that. 'You are a better wizard than most, Harry.' George finally said quietly. 'And I apologise. I did not mean to offend you.'

Harry inclined his head in acceptance. 'It's fine.'

'Well, I guess that we are going to be making some changes then.' Fred said lightly, breaking the moment. 'Where is the little squirt?' he looked around the room, expecting the girl to pop out. 'She isn't here, is she?'

Harry barked out a laugh. 'I might strive to be a good man, Fred. But that doesn't mean that I am going to aim for sainthood. She's in the orphanage.' Taking out a thin folder, he looked at it. 'Her name is … Rose. And this is what she looks like.' He handed the folder to them. 'Tell the people there that I sent you.'

'Now,' he said standing up, hastily followed by the twins. 'It is getting late. Would you like to stay over for dinner? I think the boys might like to see their most fun uncles.'

'Ah, Mr Rothschild,' Harry spoke up as the man in question opened the door. 'Please, come in,'

After protocol was followed, the King observed the man with a piercing gaze as the visitor sat down opposite him. As with his meeting with Nicolas, Harry had specifically chosen the White Drawing Room of Buckingham Palace for the meeting instead of his home.

'Well, Mister Rothschild, you will not believe this, but we had the rather dubious pleasure of meeting one of your friends … a Percy Weasley …'

'I am not familiar with the name, your majesty.'

Harry's left eyebrow rose till it was nearly touching his crown. 'Oh? Well, he was quite familiar with you, Mister Rothschild. By the way, you will be gratified to know that he is doing rather well. We had him relocated to one of our castles following an attempt on his life. Anyway, he had quite a few interesting things to tell us, Mister Rothschild.'

Harry spent a moment studying the man in front of him. Under the mien of composure on the man's aristocratic face, the King could detect the hidden nervousness.

Taking out parchment and a quill, the monarch placed the items in front of the man.

'Now, unfortunately, Percy was quite … unwilling … to speak of anyone other than you or John Dawlish. Dawlish, as we are sure you will be happy to find out, is being investigated as we decide what to do with him. We assure you that he is not going to be happy. And that leaves you.'

Harry tapped the quill. 'Unlike Dawlish, you, Mister Rothschild, have a choice. We want names, Mister Rothschild, names of the person or persons, besides you, involved in the affair. These names will make us happy. We need not point out that your happiness is directly tied in with our happiness.'

As the King finished speaking, a pair of guards decided to make their presence known. Looming over the startled man's shoulders, they provided an imposing sight.

Slowly, the man picked up the quill. He was thankful that he had made sure to include a caveat where he would be free to talk about potentially treasonous secrets.

Harry picked up the list after the man had finished. He smiled. 'Good.'

He held the list over his left shoulder. 'Summon each and every single one of those on the list, their children as well.'

'Yes, your majesty,' Hammond said, becoming visible.

Harry turned to his guest. 'You have made the right choice … Lord Diagon.'

And here is number forty.

Enjoy.

41. Kinging Around

Hey, so it has been a long time, huh? Yeah, I know ... I have spent the last few weeks without internet, mobile connectivity, the telly, my laptop, and electricity ... or at least 24/7 electricity...

Not that I am complaining ... it was on a tropical island (the Andamans) with white sand beaches and beautiful, beautiful clear blue water. You could see the seabed 13.5 metres below!

I even got my advanced open water PADI diver's certification ... went on a night dive, a deep sea dive (32.5 metres, baby!) and a wreck dive among other fun dives. The the amount of aquatic flora and fauna you could see was crazy! You turn around, and you are beset by a plethora of a new species of fish!

Anyway, enough of my adventures, enjoy this chapter!

A small note before you do so: There is a bit of a time skip, but it isn't labelled. You will figure it out from the small clues within the chapter.

Light streamed through the windows of the Throne Room in Buckingham palace, illuminating the opulent chamber and falling on the crown of King Henry IX as he sat on his throne, narrowed green eyes studying the people assembled before him.

'So,' Harry pronounced as he shifted in his throne. Well, technically his predecessor's throne, he had just changed the Royal Cipher and added a few cushioning charms. Why throw away something that was good, after all? And the throne, even without the charms, was quite comfortable.

'The Order of the Phoenix…' He snorted. 'Not a group that Dumbledore founded by himself after all.'

'Please, Your Majesty,' one of the figures pleaded. 'Our families did not have anything to do with the unfortunate abduction of your sons.'

'Indeed?' Harry's eyes narrowed. 'Then, Mister Smith, please explain why it was that I found magic suppressing shackles on one of my sons' wrists with the Hufflepuff crest engraved on it.'

'Yes,' Harry continued in a dry tone, his eyes flashing at the paling visage of the person in front of him. He held out the offending object in front of him with two of his fingers as if it were diseased. 'We believe the word you were looking for, Smith, was, "Oops".'

'Did you really think that we had you lot brought here to get you to confess because we assumed that you may be involved?' he said lowly, his eyes sweeping over each of the men in front of him.

'We know that your fathers are involved in this … matter,' Harry spat. 'Percy Weasley was quite cooperative once we had him hopped up on Veritaserum. Then again, there were no more magical oaths to bind him once his magic had all but left him after we formally had him declared as a traitor.'

'So, the question isn't of your guilt or innocence, rather what should we do with you.'

Reclining, he regarded the wizards standing in front of him.

Fear gripped the minds of the assembled. They all knew what happens to traitors. Not only do they lose their magic, but all properties and titles are seized by the crown, making it impossible for the quisling's heirs to inherit anything.

In short, should the King do to them the same thing he had done to Percy Weasley and John Dawlish, their family legacies would be lost, and their heirs left penniless.

The only way they would be able to avoid this, or at least keep their magic, would be if they ran, just like Ron and Hermione Weasley. Something they knew would be impossible.

'Please, your majesty,' Lord Jonathon Smith was the first to break, knowing that he had the most to lose. 'My father … he is old … I – none of us had any inclination …'

'What are you saying?' Harry said after a very pregnant pause.

'You have to understand, sir,' Jonathon was choosing his words carefully. 'He is old … and, old age can do things to the mind…'

'Are you saying that your father has gone senile?' Harry finally replied, with a raised eyebrow.

Jonathon nodded. Slowly choosing his words, he explained what he and the others now standing next to him had suspected for a long time. Jonathon had no idea why his father had decided on doing such things. The person he knew growing up would have never stooped so low as to kidnap children for no obvious reason. Unlike the King, Jonathon and the rest knew that the group of old men would never have had aspirations towards controlling the crown. What he did know was of the group's weird obsession with Flamel. His father and his father's friends had never thought to share the specifics, however.

The only conclusion they could come up with, as much as it pained them, was senility. And this madness was probably there for quite a while. It was only because of how close they were to the situation that they never caught on. Admitting this aloud made his mouth feel like it was full of ash, but it had to be done.

The King listened to Jonathon's explanation with a blank expression. One glace into the man's eyes showed that he was telling the truth. Or at least, what he knew to be the truth.

'Very well,' Harry finally said slowly. 'We shall take this into consideration. You shall have our final say in this matter tomorrow. Until then …' he signalled to one of the guards. 'You shall be kept in custody. It is but a precaution, we don't want you running off.' The smile he sent them was lacking in warmth.

Lord Nathaniel looked on in impotent rage as the Auror attached a magical monitoring device to his ankle. Jonathon had arrived half an hour prior to tell him of what the new King had decided. The monarch had deemed it fit to condemn him and his fellows to isolated house arrest. From this moment on, none of them would be able to communicate with each other. Furthermore, aside from family, nobody else could communicate with him, nor could he with them. What conversations he had with his family would also be monitored, effectively meaning that he would have no way to talk about anything private, forget matters relating to the Order. Finally, he was also going to be prevented from leaving his own quarters thanks to a ward keyed into him.

It was the end: the end of the Order, and the end of their cause. Moreover, it was the end of his life. He looked up at the resolute expression on his son's face. The two of them had a blazing row before the Aurors had come in. Nathaniel had tried to tell his son what he had found, only for Jonathon to reject everything, going so far as to destroy what proof he had shown.

'I am sorry, father, but I must do what is best for the family,' Jonathon had said resolutely as the last of the remnants of the files vanished. 'And this, this cockamamie theory and your obsession with it isn't good for the family.' Breathing hard, he continued. 'And neither are those friends of yours. You are crazy. All of you have gone senile!'

As the last of the wards were set in, Nathaniel watched as his son turned around and left the room. Somehow, he suspected that it would be the last he saw of the family or anyone other than the House-Elves. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head in sorrow. If he had only thought to include Jonathon before … the Order's secrecy had been their undoing.

Then again, perhaps the secrecy was for the best. It did give Jonathon deniability, and that deniability ensured the continuation of the bloodline.

Wearily sinking into his seat, Nathaniel took in the sudden silence. The fight was over. He lost. All he could hope was that somewhere down the line, Flamel got his.

'We have found all of those involved in the tragedy surrounding the family.'

The old woman turned her gaze from the window looking out towards the grounds at Sandringham House to the man sitting in one of the armchairs beside her bed.

'All of them?' she whispered.

'All of them, both in the magical and Muggle worlds.' The man confirmed. He sighed. 'The previous minister for magic has died in an encounter with the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. Percy Weasley and John Dawlish have been executed, and the other magical conspirators have been neutered.'

'Neutered?' the old woman looked at him in surprise. Despite being bedridden and having a frail body that looked as though it would give out at any moment, her eyes were still as sharp as ever. 'I take it that you let them live.'

Harry thought of the contracts he got the heads of the conspirators' families to sign before taking care of the Order of the Phoenix. 'I did not want their families affected. They are innocent. And that is something that would have happened if I had gone with my earlier decision. Besides, they are all old men who have gone bonkers. I think spending the rest of the little time they have on this earth in solitude is good enough.'

His predecessor looked at him for a long moment. 'I guess in the end, it is your decision, your majesty.' She coughed violently. 'Not that I am complaining. I would like to think that I would have made a similar decision were I in your shoes.'

'Thank you, your majesty,' Harry replied levelly. Taking a deep breath, he continued. 'It took them nearly a month, but our agents have managed to track down the Muggles responsible for the bombing.'

'You found them?' she questioned incredulously, 'In a month?'

'Well, technically it was three weeks. I do apologise for the delay, but the conditions weren't the best…'

'That's fine, your majesty,' she quickly replied. 'I am certain that the Prime Minister will be quite pleased with this news.' She closed her eyes. 'After all, we have been searching for that man for a really long time.'

Harry smiled in response.

For a long time, the only sound in the room was that of the beeping Muggle machine that monitored her heart. Eventually, just as Harry was beginning to get concerned, she unexpectedly opened her eyes. 'I am glad.' Smiling, she started to drift away. Suddenly gazing at him piercingly, she said with certainty. 'I don't think I have much time left. It is a blessing I suppose …' she took a deep breath. 'I shall finally be reunited with my family … and leave this burden behind … the crown had always felt so heavy … I hope the job does not take you as it took me … and took my father … good luck …'

She trailed off, slipping into unconsciousness.

Harry looked at the once formidable woman. The death of her family had been quite hard on her. Her health had deteriorated rapidly after the death of her husband. Now, she was bedridden … dying slowly. There were times when Harry felt remorse for playing his role in her condition … even if it was necessary.

Suddenly he breathed in sharply when the beeping Muggle machine suddenly started wailing. Despite being out of touch with the Muggle world for such a long time, he knew what it meant.

Closing his eyes, he covered her cooling aged hand with his own. The mental link that he was used to feeling thanks to the Imperius Curse he had cast on her was dead.

Bowing his head, Harry opened his mouth, about to say something, perhaps to articulate the remorse that was plain upon his features. But he closed his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he patted her hand. Standing over her, he leant forward as if to place a kiss on her forehead.

Suddenly he straightened, smoothing his expression. Giving her one last look he nodded and turned around. Setting his shoulders, he walked towards the entrance of the room.

At that moment, the assigned nurse burst into the bedroom, followed by a Muggle doctor. Harry stepped aside as he let them do their job.

Even though the Queen had formally announced her abdication to the Muggle world a few days after her announcement to the Wizengamot (despite calls for her to continue at least till Accession Day in order for her to complete a full sixty years on the throne) thus making Harry the King for more than a month, the doctor still felt compelled to turn around.

'The Queen is dead,' he intoned solemnly. 'Long live the King.'

The death of the Queen had hit Muggle Britain hard. Despite the many criticisms in the past about her and the Royal Family, recent events had served to increase the outpouring of sympathy. The streets of London were filled as people came to watch the funeral that took place on March with millions more tuning in to watch the broadcast.

Harry had capitalised on this. Introduced as a member of a cadet branch, he portrayed himself as a humble young man who, until recently, had not known of his relation to the monarch or how close he was to the throne.

At the same time, his records showed that he was the orphaned son of a rich nobleman coming from an old family. His academic qualifications had been modified for Muggle purposes to reflect the masteries he had obtained and the languages he now knew.

This, combined with tales of how he managed his family estate and expanded it through an amalgamation of smarts and hard work, made him quite attractive to the public eye.

The fact that he was good looking did not hurt matters either. The few pictures the press were allowed to take of the new Royal Family were featured quite a number of times. Harry was pretty certain that he and his wife had a fan following by now (the thought that his children would have anything similar at this time was too disturbing to contemplate).

To further increase his popularity, Harry and Daphne made sure to be seen in as many functions associated with the charities the old Royal Family patronised.

While it was traditional to wait for a year to organise the coronation of the new monarch, Harry's coronation would take place in June upon his predecessor's request instead of the originally planned Diamond Jubilee Celebrations. While there had been some thought spent in postponing the event upon the death of the previous sovereign, it was eventually decided to go as planned.

Harry stepped out of the gilded Coach of State clad in the traditional crimson surcoat and the Robe of State of crimson velvet to fresh cheers and roars of the crowd. People had a lot to be happy about as the leader of the terrorist organisation responsible for the bombing of St James' Palace (and many other incidences worldwide) had been found and killed by a British task force after Harry had happily handed over the information to the Prime Minister.

Head held high, the King ceremoniously strode into the Abbey, surrounded by his retinue. It felt strange to have a train carried by people, but the endless rehearsals beforehand ensured perfect coordination.

Harry went through the motions of the ancient ceremony with an air of solemnity as he was reminded that the bloodline he had taken as his own spanned back to more than a thousand years. His main worry was his sons (who were seated with their maternal grandparents as Daphne was next to him being crowned as Queen consort) and the attention they were under. A glamour charm had been placed on Edmund to ensure that the young Prince did not accidentally reveal his abilities. Between the excitement of seeing a big city and the many Muggle contraptions and the nervousness of being under the scrutiny of tens of thousands of eyes (not to mention the millions probably watching from afar) the charm was a definite necessity.

So it was with well-suppressed relief that Harry exchanged his crimson surcoat for a purple surcoat and donned the Imperial Robe of purple velvet. Wearing the Imperial State Crown on his head with the Sceptre with the Cross and the Orb in his hands he exited the chapel with his wife following as everybody in the building sang the national anthem.

In a show of magnanimity, he had borne the costs of the ceremony, reducing the amount of taxpayer's money used by ninety per cent. While there were some that had problems with it (especially since Harry had sprung for a Coronation Banquet – the first to do so in decades) most agreed that it was a nice thing to do.

'The Prime Minister to see you sir,'

Hearing the King's answering voice to enter, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom walked through the opened door.

'Prime Minister,' the King said as he shook the man's hand.

Even though this was not his first meeting with the King, the man still found his breath being taken away by the monarch's presence. Even though he was a tall and slender man with a swimmer's build, the new King seemed to just fill the room in a way that nobody he had met ever could. And the Prime Minister knew that it wasn't a magical thing, as the Minister of Magic did not have the same air about him. What was more, the Minister's eyes definitely did not glow like the King's.

'Please, sit.' The imposing man said as he took a seat himself.

The next several minutes were spent talking about events pertaining to the country, just as it had been done with the late Queen.

'I have a question,' the King finally said after they had finished with the last item on their agenda. 'I believe, Prime Minister, that you have been informed of the existence of magic?' seeing the Prime Minister nod, he continued. 'And also, you do know that I am a wizard as well, I take it?'

'Indeed, sir,' the Prime Minister said carefully, wondering where this was going.

The King took a moment to gather his thoughts. 'What if I told you that I had a way we could increase production in farms, produce better tasting, healthier food and keep it all fully organic?'

That got the Prime Minister's attention. 'What do you mean?'

'Unlike my predecessors, I am in a better position to understand and use magical methods to help the Muggle world. My background does allow me to understand and compare the methods used by both worlds. I own farmland myself too. So I do know that the average magical farm can produce up to three times more than an average Muggle farm.'

Harry smiled internally. He knew he had the other man hooked now. 'Wizards don't use chemicals to keep out pests, employing magical wards instead.' He continued casually. 'Additionally, magical fertilizers which is mainly dragon dung, is far more potent and holds more nutrients. And other charms and potions can be employed to facilitate a quicker harvest, meaning that the land can be used sooner for another batch of crops.

'In the end,' he gestured at a fruit bowl. 'Our produce is healthier, tastier, completely organic, and most importantly, cheaper. Livestock produce better and tastier meat and other products as they too are fed high quality food. And the land isn't affected since we have druids bless them before starting, ensuring that the land is enriched and continues to be enriched.'

'Sorry, did you say "Druids"?' The Prime Minister asked in wonder.

'Yes,' Harry replied absently. 'Druidism is a field in magic dealing in nature. After leaving school, some choose that as a subject and a profession. I believe that they can even make the most barren lands fertile.' He pushed the bowl towards the Prime Minister. 'Here is some produce from one of my family orchards. Have a taste.'

Hesitantly, the Prime Minister picked up an apple. He noticed that it was far bigger than expected. From what he knew, the organic stuff tended to be small and shrivelled.

Harry smirked when the Prime Minister's eyes flew open involuntarily as he took the first bite.

'Better than anything you've ever tasted?' he said in light amusement, picking the Prime Minister's thoughts directly out of his head. 'Of course, this is only scratching the surface.' He paused to ensure he had the Muggle's full attention. 'Did you know that with magic, one can increase the interior dimensions of a building or container? Wizarding tents, for example, can fit an entire house while still having the outside dimensions of a regular Muggle two-man tent. So that is a ratio of potentially one is to ten. More, actually,'

Reclining in his chair, Harry continued in a low hypnotic voice. 'Now, imagine something like … say a greenhouse that is roughly five thousand acres large. Now multiply that area by ten … a conservative estimate … so for a relatively small greenhouse, we have an interior space of something that can rival the greenhouses in Spain. Couple that with the harvesting techniques mentioned earlier and the fact that charms can be used to create individual temperature controlled environments inside …'

'… and we could possibly grow exotic fruits and vegetables that we normally have to import.' The Prime Minister said in a dazed voice.

'Think of the reduction in costs.' Harry said softly. 'Of course, I realise that it isn't that much of a problem. After all, Muggle Britain does produce sixty per cent of what they eat, but what if you could reduce that forty per cent, even by one? I think that would be beneficial, especially considering the barely avoided economic disaster that happened a few years back. I just cannot imagine what the state of the country would have been had things not worked out. As it is, we barely avoided a recession.

'And you won't have to stop at food crops. If this takes off well, we can move onto cash crops … stuff like rubber, jute or cotton … things that you can't really grow normally thanks to climate, space and time restrictions.'

Harry smiled, looking into the distance. 'Ah well, it would be a great idea. Though there is that small catch about the International Statue of Secrecy, not to mention that electronic items can't really be used since magic and electricity don't mix. Basically, that would mean that only wizards and witches could tend these hypothetical farms.' Looking at the Prime Minister, he sighed wistfully. 'Ah well, it was nice to dream of having a nation that is one step closer to self-sufficiency. Of course, we would never be an autarky, but we would be just that much closer.'

'Why hasn't any other country thought of this?' The Prime Minister asked suspiciously.

'Because, Prime Minister, nobody in the other countries has the responsibility to, or the knowledge of, both the magical and non-magical worlds as I do.' Harry replied calmly. 'If I am not mistaken, our Cousins keep themselves wilfully ignorant and removed from magical affairs.' Abruptly getting to his feet, shortly followed by the other man, he continued. 'As it is, I think I have taken too much of your time. Till next week, then, Prime Minister.' He held out his hand.

'Oh, and feel free to take the bowl. Consider it a gift…'

Harry smirked internally as the distracted man left the room, barely remembering to follow protocol as he did so. He knew he had the Muggle hooked.

The very next day, the Prime Minister had requested more details, prompting Harry to hand over the details to the Ministry of Magic as he concentrated on his duties. Being the King of both worlds and a magical one at that meant that his days were busy. He barely had enough time for his family. Something needed to be done…

Part of his duties involved meeting dignitaries from foreign Muggle nations as well as the foreign Ministers of Magic.

The magical territories were vastly different from Muggle countries. From the research Harry had done in the archives of the previous Royal Family, he knew that the various Kings and Queens of Europe had used the growing tensions between Muggles and wizards to their advantage. In exchange for secrecy, they had bound the magical populace of their various kingdoms to themselves using magical contracts.

As their realms annexed various other dominions, the monarchs had brought their ideas with them and bound similarly wizards and witches of Asia, Africa and the Americas.

Even later on, as the power of the various monarchies had dwindled in the Muggle world, their hold on the magical world was still absolute.

So while the various Muggle colonies had gained independence, magically speaking, countries were still more or less divided according to the kingdoms and empires of old even if they were known by the names of their Muggle counterparts.

The House of Bourbon, having annexed the magical nations of France, Italy, Spain and Luxemburg and most of their colonies, was the most powerful in Europe with the House of Windsor (now the House of Potter-Black) coming in at a depressingly, to the current King of England, far second.

The former Russian empire was divided amongst the relatives of the erstwhile Romanov dynasty (one of which was incidentally, Windsor, through Queen Victoria's relation to the extinct family).

While Africa was still controlled by European powers, Asia was another story altogether. Most of the Asian magical countries that did not fall under European rule were divided between the Emperor of Japan, the King of Thailand and the Imperial House of Osman.

The magical communities of Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka and Bangladesh were divided amongst the Maharajas of Mysore, Jammu and Kashmir and Baroda, the Nizam of Hyderabad and the Nawab of Pataudi.

Except for magical Canada, the Americas were in the hands of the King of Spain, who had taken over all the former French colonies and had later on negotiated for the remaining British colonies.

Harry also had found out that the only reason that the various Muggle governments had allowed this was because of the contracts themselves. As most of the countries had moved onto democracy, it would be hard for such a contract to stick with an elected official instead of a bloodline.

Basically, any nation that was a member of the International Confederation of Wizards was controlled by a Muggle. There were a few free magical communities, but they were tiny isolated groups deep within South America that took a dim view to outsiders and lacked representation in the ICW.

What he had read in the archives was enough to get Harry's blood racing. Those oaths could not be voided. They could only be transferred from one monarch to another. Rebellion was almost impossible since anyone who held even a smidgen of authority in the magical world was bound to the Muggles. And there was no way to use numbers to their advantage as the Muggles made sure to curtail the influx of new blood.

Many laws that discriminated against Muggleborns were tacitly endorsed by the various Muggle royals, encouraging those with non-magical parentage to move back to the Muggle world and leave magic behind to isolate the wizarding world and keep the chance of a rebellion low. If it wasn't for the power afforded to them, Harry was sure that the Muggles would have bred the magic out. The worst of it was that nobody really knew of this conspiracy. The royal families were happy with supplementing their privy purses from the taxes levelled upon the various magical communities. And occasionally, they kept the Muggle economies afloat. Were it not for the gold the current head of the House of Osman had taken from magical Greece and other nations, Muggle Greece would be in dire straits now.

It did a lot to alleviate any guilt he felt over blowing up the British Royal Family.

But war was not an option right now. The Muggles were too numerous, and most of the magical world was in their control.

Of course, it wasn't all so bad. For the goblins too were under a similar magical contract. The monarchy would step in every time the many goblin rebellions got out of hand and ensured that the rebellions were called "rebellions" and not "revolutions" or "wars of independence".

The treaty with the magical beings was vastly different. After his forces had conquered the race, King Arthur had forced the Goblin King to sign the rather biased treaty that all but enslaved the goblins.

It was a wise move. Harry knew about their ruthlessness, the various goblin rebellions only proved that while they still had to obey the King, they had no compunctions in killing other wizards. It took but one meeting with the Goblin King for him to be certain that they would be planning another rebellion soon. The resentment was quite tangible.

Something would need to be done about that too.

Ambassadors had been dispatched to the various magical colonies now under Harry's rule to strengthen ties as the Royal family went on a tour around the various dependencies, Commonwealth Realms, and member nations of the Commonwealth of Nations. These magical ambassadors were also tasked with the responsibility of spreading the news that there was now, for the first time, a magical King.

Invitations were also sent to many of the dignitaries of the various magical nations to witness the coronation ceremony Harry promised to the magical world. It was a far simpler ceremony, carried out in a magical cairn where one of Arthur's castles was said to have stood. This ritual held far more meaning for the monarch as he could feel the magic surrounding him, and spoke of values he agreed with, namely the preservation of magic and the people gifted with the force.

Only three pieces of jewellery were used in the ceremony, namely the Sword of State of Scotland (which Harry had found out was originally Caliburn, one of the legendary swords that Arthur had used before the more legendary – and still missing – Excalibur was forged), The Crown of Arthur (which in actuality was a crown commissioned by an ancestor of the current Duke of Azkaban for King Alfred the Great) and the sceptre of Merlin (said to be made of the pieces of Merlin's own wand, after the death of the legendary wizard).

Minerva McGonagall made her way through the hallways of the Potter ancestral home, following the guard to the drawing room.

Even nearly two years after Harry's (and he still would be Harry to her and the other senior professors at Hogwarts) accession to the throne, Minerva still marvelled at the fact. To think that the boy she had once taught was now the first magical King since Arthur!

'Come in,'

'Your majesties,' Minerva said as soon as she entered the door, dropping into a short curtsy.

The last time she had seen the King and his wife was when she had attended their wedding. She had never met the young lady who was the Queen personally, only recalling that she was a good student during her days in school.

However, it was still shocking to see two people she remembered as children, on the cusp on adulthood, looking so grown up, so adult. It was a feeling that was always newly felt by Minerva, no matter how many years and how many people she taught.

'Professor McGonagall,' the King said with a smile as she took his hand, shortly followed by Daphne who greeted her softly.

The next few minutes were spent with the Queen pouring tea for the three of them from the tea set that was already laid out on the table in typical wizarding pureblood custom.

'I have to say, I am quite surprised that you asked for an audience in an official capacity,' Harry commented once they were settled. 'After all, it is going to be a few more years before my children will be of age to go to Hogwarts.'

With her hands placed neatly on her lap, the black-haired witch answered in her usual brisk tone. 'Well, your majesty, by your statement, I am right in assuming that you plan on sending your children to be taught at Hogwarts?'

'Of course,' Harry replied, nearly scoffing as if the very thought of doing otherwise was preposterous.

'Ah, then I think it would be a good idea to discuss their stay at Hogwarts now. After all, it would give us more time to prepare for the young princes' arrival.' Lips twitching minutely, the headmistress continued. 'I, and the Heads of the four Houses, agree that perhaps a fifth house should be created for your sons and any other future children of the royal bloodline.'

Harry started chuckling slowly under his breath. 'It's certainly funny how things work.' He said with humour dancing in his eyes.

Seeing the confusion in his wife's face, he elaborated. 'The last time Professor McGonagall and I met, she was trying to convince me to have a portrait of me hung in her office and a bust placed in the Sirius Tower. You know about that tower, of course.'

'Of course I do, dear,' Daphne replied dryly. 'How could I forget the old astronomy tower which you basically turned into every star gazer's dream home? Were it not for father, I think mother would have permanently moved in there.'

Harry just smiled winningly. 'Anyway, getting back to the topic, naturally I objected.'

Daphne snorted in wry amusement. She had a good feeling that her husband had thrown quite a fuss in reality.

'So I told his majesty about the alternative decision of creating a fifth house in his name.' Professor McGonagall said with a small reminiscent smile. 'Needless to say, it stopped his objections.' Eyes twinkling in humour, she leaned forward and in a stage whisper said, 'You should have seen his face then.'

'If you ladies are quite done…' Harry said in a dignified tone, though his eyes were sparkling in mirth. 'I do believe we have some business to attend to.'

Expression turning thoughtful, Harry continued speaking. 'I don't think it is necessary to have another house just for my children and further descendants. Hogwarts has had four houses historically. True, there is that unofficial fifth house for day scholars, but officially, it has always been Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw. I don't want to change a thousand year old tradition. Not when it isn't necessary. I may be the monarch, but I did not found this school.'

The King took a breath. 'No, all my children, and their children, and so on and so forth, shall be sorted like every other student when they go to Hogwarts. They shall experience the anticipation and nervousness that comes from not knowing how the Sorting process takes place. They shall feel the relief of knowing about the simple task of putting on a magical hat, and the apprehension of having a thousand year old relic of the Founders on their heads, a relic designed by their ancestor, and mine in front of a large audience. And they shall be sorted into one of the four houses. They shall eat at their house table, and their merits and follies shall be appropriately reflected in their house points. And, should they so desire, they shall represent their house in an extracurricular activity of their choice. I, Henry the ninth, King of Great Britain, do declare this.'

Harry's erect posture and uplifted chin gave him quite a regal air as he finished his miniature if somewhat pompous speech. When he concluded with the declaration, Minerva found herself unconsciously straightening her already straight posture as her chest filled with emotion.

After a few moments of silence, the King seemed to deflate a little. 'Of course,' he said in a normal voice. 'They shall have their own dorms to sleep in, naturally, for security reasons. They shall also have a two person guard. Heaven knows that Hogwarts could do with some security.'

McGonagall visibly bristled at this.

'With all due respect, your majesty,' the headmistress said in a carefully controlled tone. 'The school's security was, is and always will be unparalleled.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'With the exception of my seventh year, all of my years at that school were fraught with some form of danger or the other. I've had a possessed Defence teacher, a basilisk, dementors, a Death Eater, a Ministry thug, and again, another Death Eater after me respectively in those six years.'

'And yet, at the same time, most if not all of that danger could have been avoided,' Professor McGonagall replied steadily. She continued speaking despite the look of incredulity on Harry's face. 'If my memory is correct, you went after Quirrel in your first year of your own volition. The same can be said of the basilisk in your second year. Had you asked for help from a competent member of staff, I doubt you would have found yourself in trouble.'

'I did do that,' Harry said. 'In fact, I distinctly recall telling you that the Stone was in danger the night Quirrel made an attempt at it.'

The professor gave him a stern look. 'You told me that "somebody" was after the stone, your majesty … "Somebody". I am afraid that everybody was after that artefact. In fact, if it wasn't for our sense of morality, I and the rest of my colleagues would have been after it too. We certainly dreamed of using it many times over the years. So you'll forgive me when I didn't find it too shocking that "somebody" was after that stone.

'Also, did you really think that the three of you were the first to find out what it was that was being hidden in the school? Fred and George Weasley knew what it was from the November of that year! Half our Seventh Year batch knew or suspected what was behind the forbidden corridor! In fact, there had been no less than twenty instances where a student or a group of students opened that door and encountered the three headed dog. The guard dog was more than enough of a deterrent. It couldn't harm the students since it was too large to fit through the doorway, forget the wards that prevented it from breaking said door down. The fact that the school was guarding the Philosopher's Stone was an open secret by the end of the year! Granted, Professor Dumbledore had no business bringing that Stone into the school in the first place, but at the same time, none of the students had any business going after said Stone either. You cannot blame the school after knowingly putting yourself at risk.

'Also, I've never got the opportunity to ask you this, but you took Gilderoy Lockhart down that Chamber with you. What, pray tell, were you expecting the outcome of that brilliant decision to be?' Professor McGonagall exclaimed with a particularly incredulous look on her face. 'Were you expecting that incompetent fool to take down a thousand year old basilisk, despite knowing beforehand (by his own admission no less) that he was a fraud?! Oh and let's not forget that he was disarmed by you before the three of you went in there!'

There was a long moment of silence.

'She's got you there, dear,' Daphne finally said sounding quite amused.

'Very well,' Harry said, even though neither his expression nor did his tone changed. 'There's still the issue of the dementors,'

'Who were inflicted upon Hogwarts by the Ministry,' Professor McGonagall rebutted smoothly. 'And barring the unfortunate incident at that Quidditch match, the only other time your majesty came in contact with them was when he was supposed to be in bed. In fact, his majesty is very lucky that he is out of school and the King, and that I wasn't the headmistress at the time, because, were I the headmistress, any normal student would still find himself in detention for that particular instance of idiocy if not expelled outright.'

'Also, his majesty should note that nobody knew that Bartemius Crouch had managed to spirit his son away from Azkaban. A son who was so good at acting that he passed smoothly for Alastor Moody. It was a security breach, but not all security systems are perfect.'

'Dolores Umbridge was an agent of the Ministry,' Professor McGonagall continued. 'And she, along with the Death Eaters in your majesty's sixth year had Dumbledore in their sights as their primary target. Not you.'

'You make a compelling argument, Professor,' Daphne finally conceded after a few moments of silence. 'I believe that my husband shall be taking your words into consideration. But at the same time, I think you can agree that one cannot have too much security, especially when our sons will be a much more enticing target than the King ever was in his school days.'

The formidable woman inclined her head. It was the closest she would get to an apology from the King.

'Now, I suppose we can use one of the smaller towers in the west wing for the princes,' the headmistress said briskly. 'It will suit our purposes. I suppose all that is left to do is select a portrait to guard the entrance.'

'How about a blank stretch of wall that forms an opening when the password is given?' Daphne commented. 'I never did see the point in having a chatty portrait as a guardian.'

She was met by stony looks from two Gryffindors.

'It's the truth!' Daphne said defensively. 'Gryffindor is the only house with a portrait guardian. The Hufflepuffs and Slytherins have far more useful and practical entrances. Of course,' she amended. 'That portrait is a bit more practical than what the Ravenclaws have.'

Harry was the first to speak. 'Well, a blank stretch of wall won't be able to alert teachers of any trouble.' He said loftily.

'That is what ward schemes are for.' Daphne replied primly.

Silence followed that proclamation.

'As I understand it,' Harry finally spoke up. 'Right now, there is one vote for a portrait, from the professor, and one for a blank stretch of wall, from you. That leaves me.' He paused for a moment. 'I vote for portrait. They are far more colourful and less boring than a wall. So, majority wins, portrait it is!' he beamed at her.

Suddenly realising that he was going against his wife (who was giving him flinty looks) Harry got rid of the grin. 'Besides, this way, we can use my portrait that is sitting in the headmaster's office. So at least one of us will be there to keep an eye on our children after a fashion. Wouldn't you want that?'

Daphne took a really long time to nod her head. While she still thought that it would be better to copy the Slytherin entrance, she could see the advantages of having a portrait of her husband guarding the entrance. Once they made a linking portrait, keeping in touch with their children would get so much easier. Though, she suspected that the boys wouldn't be terribly thrilled with that fact.

'Good!' Harry said cheerfully. 'It's settled then.'

'Actually,' McGonagall started hesitatingly. 'I think it would be a better idea to have another portrait.'

'What's wrong with mine?' Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

'Oh, absolutely nothing, your majesty,' She said quickly. 'It's just that … your portrait is … free spirited.'

Minerva cringed inwardly at the term. The portrait of Harry Potter was practically the painted version of Peeves.

When it wasn't annoying the other old headmasters and headmistresses with petty arguments, the painting was off gallivanting through the hallways, waving the sword of Gryffindor around, almost always getting into a sword fight with the portrait of Sir Cadogan (who in turn was quite delighted to have someone to insult and be insulted by).

The days when the painting wasn't sword fighting or arguing were spent flirting shamelessly with the paintings of women. Minerva was equally thankful and disappointed that portraits couldn't take their clothes off.

On one hand, Minerva couldn't bear to think about how many times she or the rest of the school would have been treated to a "show". The thought itself was nauseating. Yet on the other hand, she did not have a credible enough reason to remove that portrait (despite complaints from the other former headmasters) as the painting's antics barely affected school life, and were quite entertaining to the staff and students. Of course, that all paled in comparison to her pride (which she would never admit to being the real reason for why that portrait was still in her office).

Besides, it wasn't anything that a silencing spell couldn't fix.

However, now that the King had suggested relocating it…

'Actually, come to think about it, yes, I do believe that it would be a good idea, your majesty.'

Minerva responded to the King's smile with one of her own. She couldn't wait for the day when the two princes came to the school.

It would just be two more years.

John Hodgkin took a deep breath, looking at the house that was sitting in front of him.

'You're late,' were his wife, Sarah's opening words as soon as he opened the door.

'What?' she said bemused, when she saw the funny look on his face.

'Nothing, dear,' John replied, working to remove the grin on his face.

She looked at her husband of nearly one year for a long moment. 'OK,' she finally said slowly. Turning around, she moved into the kitchen. 'Long day at work, dear?'

Now he had a harder time in suppressing the guffaw that was threatening to break out. If only she knew how ironic that statement was…

The young couple sat down to have dinner. Sarah watched in confusion at the rather unreadable look she was getting from her husband.

'Is the food alright?' the way he was staring at her and not touching his food was slightly worrisome. Come to think of it, he was acting rather strange. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something different about her Johnny.

He started, as if waking up from a dream 'What? Oh yeah, it's great.' Then he started wolfing down his food in record time.

By the time she was halfway finished, he was already done, his dishes magically washed and put on the draining board.

After a moment of looking at him staring at her, she shrugged and turned her attention to her food. If he had something on his mind, he would eventually tell her. Badgering him was his mother's job, not hers. She had tried already.

Getting up, she went to the sink. It gave her additional time to think.

Feeling a presence behind her, she whirled around to see her husband standing just behind her.

'Oh,' she said softly. Now that he was up close, she could see the look in his eyes.

The last time she had seen that particular gaze was nearly eleven months back during the first night of their honeymoon.

It was a look of deep carnal hunger. And lust.

The next thing she knew, she was naked on the dining table, gasping as he bought her to orgasm.

An indeterminate amount of time later, she collapsed on the floor of their bathroom.

'Please,' she pleaded. 'I can't go anymore.'

As pleasurable and as impressive her husband's sudden stamina was, she really couldn't continue. She ached in too many places to count.

Chuckling, John picked her up, causing her to squeak in surprise.

'So,' she finally said when they were ensconced in bed. 'What was all that about.'

There was a long moment of silence, by which time she started to drift off.

'I just missed you,' he said, watching her. 'I missed you so very much.'

Sarah thought that the longing in his voice was a bit odd. However, her tired body wouldn't let her mind process that thought before she was out like a light.

Wrapping a possessive arm and leg around her, John breathed in the smell of her hair as he soon followed her. She really had no idea how badly he had missed her.

After all, it had been thirty years…

Sister Chloe looked out from her perch atop a skyscraper.

Actually, "sister" was a misnomer now. She was no longer a member of the Church, in fact, having been excommunicated years ago.

People in her chosen profession couldn't be called "Religious Sisters," after all.

As she unsnapped the locks in her briefcase, and took out her personalised Dragunov, she reflected that she probably was the first and only one to take up this line of vocation.

Then again, not many Sisters would ever think of doing what she was caught doing before she took up her current profession.

She expertly assembled the weapon, completing her task in seconds.

The sudden burst of static made her look down at the body of the policeman lying at her feet.

'All clear,' she said, picking up the radio. The voice synthesiser strapped around her throat perfectly mimicked the deep tones of the man she had just killed. To the person on the other end, it was as if he was talking to his colleague.

Lifting the rifle and securing it on the ledge, she looked down the anti-glare sights.

She found her target easily enough, just out of range but heading closer.

Like any other competent person in her line of work, she had read the background information on her target and had been thoroughly briefed.

To the public, especially those in Britain, he was a great man. And they had good cause to believe that, as he had started many movements that had bought great prosperity to the country. However, she also knew that behind that veneer of goodness lurked a devil.

She had been informed of his abnormalities. And the hidden threat he and his kind posed to humanity. And for that, he would have to die.

Though, she wouldn't be able to enjoy her kill as much as she would like to. Chloe had seen the photograph that came with the folder and as a connoisseur of everything beautiful, she hated to see such a fine specimen be destroyed.

Those green eyes and that black hair … what she wouldn't give to be able to shag such a man. If only he was normal…

But she was here on business, not pleasure. And her employer had promised a handsome reward if she put a bullet into his brain. It wasn't her job to care about what her target had done, even if she actually did.

A firm believer that closing one eye was for amateurs, Chloe looked through the scope with both her eyes open. Anyone observing her would be quite disturbed by the sight of her right eye slowly drifting to the side.

The anticipation built up as her target neared the range of her gun, but she kept calm, unwilling to let her heart spoil her aim.

She silently started to count down as he came closer and closer.

Ten…

Nine…

Eight…

Seven…

Six…

She deliberately started to take deep breaths…

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Her view was obscured suddenly from the recoil. The specialised bullet that was chambered in the rifle was shot out at speed, covering 1,300 metres in seconds as it drilled through thick armoured glass and into its target.

The assassin smiled when she saw the results.

Another perfect shot…

Awesome cliffhanger huh?

*grins shamelessly*

I'll update once I get caught up with normal life and work and finish the next chapter ...

Tschüß!

42. Magus Imperium

Two Months Ago

Glastonbury Tor towered over the surrounding plains, standing out like a beacon for miles around. In the light of the moon, it loomed over the Summerland Meadows, the roofless Tower of St Michael's watching over the surrounding fen, a silent sentinel.

Harry breathed in the air, savouring its freshness. Taking a moment to look around from his perch on top of the tower, he floated down to the ground. He was here on a mission, and time was of the essence.

Ever since he had discovered the archives of Arthur's descendants, he had spent what little free time he had that wasn't taken up by his duties, or his family, in meticulously combing through them, looking for other secrets that the Muggles had hidden.

One of those secrets had him coming here, in this specific spot.

Looking at the scrap of parchment in his hand, Harry started descending the ancient hill, following the path downwards, holding a handful of silver flames aloft to light the way.

After about thirty minutes of trekking, he finally came to a stop at a point exactly equidistant from the base and the summit, facing east.

It took a fair amount of work to find and then get to the hidden cave but he straightened up finally when he saw the inscription right on the inside.

Her lecgan Artúr drýcræftig cyning m Engla Brytland ond Scotta

Harry took in a deep breath upon seeing those words. Here, right in front of him, was a piece of ancient history of both Muggle and Magical Britain, lying forgotten and unknown for millennia.

Composing himself, the King took out a mirror from within an inside pocket of his coat.

'I found it,' he said into it.

From the mirror, the scarred face of a redhead stared back at him.

'I'll be there in a minute,' he said. Immediately the glass clouded up, clearing to show Harry's own reflection.

The King barely had to wait a moment before another figure materialised in front of him.

The man once known as William Weasley but now going by the name of Guillaume Delacour (though Harry still called him "Bill" – he was the King after all) bowed before him, 'Your majesty.'

'Bill,' Harry replied evenly. He ignored the imperceptible twitch on the older man's face. Another reason why Harry insisted on using that name was because the ginger just refused to call him by his first name, always sticking to the formalities despite Harry's repeated instructions.

'Look at the inscription.'

Turning around, the curse breaker strode forward. Frowning, the man took out his wand and started muttering.

'It checks out,' he finally said. 'Sweet Merlin,' he breathed. 'It is unbelievable, but I think this is the real deal. The Anglo-Saxon runes underneath do date to this time.' Looking around the cave, he weaved his wand, causing sections to light up in ethereal runes. 'That there is a Muggle repelling charm … a cruder version, but definitely a Muggle repelling charm ... and a viable one at that.' he whistled. 'This sets back the time of the modern day charm by quite a few centuries. There will be many historians' minds blown by that information alone.' Turning to Harry he said in wonder, 'I just cannot believe this!'

Harry smiled. 'Good … you and your team can start analysing the site tomorrow. Now, if you don't mind, I have something I need to get from there.' Saying this, he turned towards the entrance.

'Your majesty – wait!' Bill said quickly. 'It's an unknown site. Nobody knows what curses, traps and wards are in it!'

'And that's why you are here, Bill.' Harry said calmly. 'Now, how would you like be the first to explore a thousand year old magical tomb that many have spent their lives searching for but have never found?'

Not waiting for an answer, Harry strode into the cave.

Bill stood there for a moment, gaping, before rushing inside as well.

Lighting his wand, the taller wizard looked around carefully. He found himself in the beginnings of a long tunnel with the King right in front of him, head cocked to the side as if he was listening to something.

'Sir I don't think I will be able to bring these wards down alone,' Bill said nervously to the monarch. 'There are three major ley lines intersecting at the base of this area. We will need a team, and days, if not weeks, of work to clear the site.'

Harry snorted. 'I am quite aware about the number of ley lines present here and how powerful the wards and traps that have been built are. Furthermore, I am also well aware of just who had erected these traps. Finally, I am also aware that my experience in breaking down wards is considerably less than yours.'

Turning around to the older wizard, Harry continued speaking. 'However, while you are more experienced of the two of us and have a much better knowledge in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy than me, I happen to know how to sense the magic around me, and thus can tell you what will trigger the wards that are around us. So while we may not be able to neutralise the traps or break any curses, we should theoretically be able to navigate the area without triggering them.'

Bill whistled. 'That's a rare art form. I have tried my hand at it, but haven't been able to get the grasp of the concept. Who taught you?'

'Dumbledore,' Harry was surprised that the bitterness was no longer there in his voice whenever he spoke the accursed man's name. It was a sure sign of his maturity.

Suddenly he felt old. Which was all the more ridiculous seeing as twenty seven was considered really young by wizarding standards.

Concentrating on the magic around him, Harry spoke up after five minutes of silence. 'Right, the tiles in front of us are imbued with a ward. As long as we step on the right tiles, we should be fine.'

Bill took his wand out. Waving it in a complex pattern, he muttered under his breath. Instantly, runes lit up the area in a language Harry had never seen before. Studying them for a moment Bill finally said. 'Oh this is just great. The runes are Anglo Saxon, alright. But the sentence structure hints at, funnily enough, Cumbric. Regardless, from what I gather, the tiles are all inscribed with random names. We'll need to be very certain of our history if we want to get through. I don't want to even imagine what will happen if we step on the wrong tiles.'

There was a few moments silence.

'Well,' Harry answered slowly. 'I can tell you that that section of the floor will disappear from under us. And I wager we will probably be impaled upon the sharpened spikes below.' He paused before adding thoughtfully. 'Of course, it could also be some other form of death.'

'I concur,' Bill said readily. 'The ancient Celtic wizards may be different from Egyptian ones, but they do share a certain fondness for those kinds of traps. Although, I suspect they might try the "Death From Above" approach instead. At any rate,' he clapped his hands. 'I believe this concludes our excursion.'

Harry chuckled. 'Don't worry, I have it under control. Here, grab hold of my arm.'

Bill looked at the King askance. 'If you are planning on Apparating to the other side,' he began slowly. 'I will tell you now that the concentration of magic is too high to try something like this. While Apparition was invented in the twelve hundreds, and Anti-Apparition wards about fifty years later, and that is much, much after this site was constructed, there is too much magic and too many powerful wards here to safely try Apparition, much less Side-Along Apparition.'

'I know,' Harry said with his arm still extended. 'But I still have that covered.' He elbowed Bill, slightly impatient.

With trepidation Bill grasped the King's arm. Suddenly he felt weightless. The next thing he knew, he was floating on air along with Harry. He watched, amazed as the two of them flew across the tunnel, never touching the ground.

'The wards might be strong,' Harry commented as they touched down. 'They may be impossible to break and woven by one of the luminaries of wizard-kind, but when it comes down to it, they are old and outdated. As such modern magic can circumvent them. After all, sustained magical flight is a rather recent invention.'

'Oh?' the curse breaker said as he followed the King down the passageway. 'This is the first I have heard of it. When was it invented?'

Harry stopped to think. 'I think it has been … eleven years.' He gave a small 'huh,' of surprise.

'Cool, who made it?'

'I did,' Harry said lightly. 'It has yet to be published in Charms Weekly and made known to the public because the boffins at Experimental are still testing it. I am told that it generally takes a long time.'

Further conversation was cut off when the chamber they entered suddenly sealed itself.

Bill swore when he saw fountains of water suddenly sprout up from the ground. 'Fuck! The chamber is going to flood!' he started waving his wand, furious that he had so happily walked into a trap. This was a main reason behind the most basic rule of Curse Breaking. Speak only before or after a job. If his trainer found out that he had broken such an elementary rule…

While the redhead was agitated, his wand movements were calm. Years spent going through ancient tombs full of old curses ensured that he did not lose his head regardless of the situation. Coupled with his talent in magic, Bill was one of the most sought after curse breakers as he could find the way to disable any magical trap quicker than most of his colleagues.

Harry, on the other hand, was completely calm. This was majorly due to his faith in the obscure art of sensing magic. Taking a moment to watch his companion, he closed his eyes and took in a slow measured breath, feeling for the tendrils of magic connecting the geysers of water flooding the chamber and the key to disabling it.

Thus both men ended at the same spot on the left hand side of the room where there was a circular sliding puzzle inset into the smooth rock wall.

Sparing each other a glance, they studied the puzzle in front of them.

'Oh, this is a tricky one!' Harry said finally. Not waiting for an explanation, he elaborated. 'The sneaky bastard has gone and somehow managed to light up a random cluster of runes in each tier magically. As far as my senses are concerned, these' he pointed the runes in each circle 'are the same. Naturally, it cannot be the case.' He gave the puzzle another considering look. 'I had no clue that this could be done!' Suddenly, he didn't feel quite as confident and calm as before.

As Harry started to wonder which section of the wall he should attempt to blow up, Bill said, 'Could you point those runes out again?'

The curse breaker made a careful note of the ancient Celtic letters. Ignoring the rising water levels, he studied the puzzle intently.

'I got it,' the ginger finally said. Bringing his wand up, he started moving the outermost tier.

Both men were fascinated by the spellbinding effect of watching the runes effortlessly glide across the stone in a circular fashion in the wake of Bill's wand. Till recently, it was thought that such a feature had only been invented three hundred years ago. Thanks to his forced interaction with them, Harry knew that the Muggles had only recently begun to explore such a feature in what they called touchscreens.

Harry still found what they called "video conferences" rather amusing. After all, wizards did not need to bother with memorising a random ten digit number. All they had to do was call a person's name. In the case of the Floo network, physical objects could actually be shared. And distance did not affect clarity. If mobility was needed, mirrors helped with that. Even now, work was being done to link the Floo network to the mirror network so that calls could be made between the two devices.

The amusement most wizard-raised showed towards the Muggle telephone was quite understandable.

'An astonishingly simple password,' Bill finally said after he aligned the last letter.

Instantly the rushing sound of water stopped. Slowly, the wizards noticed the level of water gradually declining, causing them to heave a sigh of relief.

'Well, it's a good thing that you know how to read ancient Anglo-Saxon and Celtic runes,' Harry finally said over the rumble of the wall as it slowly slid to the side.

Bill grunted. 'And it's a good thing that you know how to sense magic, your majesty. Though, I guess in those times the art wasn't so arcane.' He struggled with his words for a moment before deciding that what he wanted to say had to be said. 'However, it would have been better if we had a team of professionals scout the place first. As your majesty has noted, we are up against the Prince of Enchanters himself.'

Harry quirked an eyebrow, 'What's life without some adventure? Besides, these obstacles weren't meant to keep out everybody. I suspect this site was intended to be more of a monument than anything else.'

They traversed the narrow downward sloping path till they came to another chamber.

As soon as Harry stepped over an invisible line, the cavern suddenly was bathed in a bright all permeating light.

It took the twosome a moment for their eyes to adjust to the sudden illumination. Extinguishing his handful of flames, the King strode forward, taking in the details of the room.

If it wasn't for the faded tapestries that hung from the walls, the room would have been rather austere.

'I guess preservation charms weren't around at the time,' Bill commented lightly from behind Harry, examining one of the woven works of art. The only reason that the thing hadn't fallen apart was that it had been undisturbed in darkness for a long time. As it was, the woven work was indecipherable.

Harry wasn't paying much attention to the curse breaker, however. His attention was focused on the main feature dominating the centre of the chamber.

A large ornately carved stone sarcophagus with an elaborate coat of arms dominated the centre. Harry reverently traced the name carved into the tomb.

Suddenly feeling compelled, he knelt in obeisance.

Bill's quiet gasp brought him out of his trance. Not bothering to turn around, Harry focused his attention on the other item; a book resting on a pedestal, gleaming dully.

'Is that –?'

'I think it is,' Harry said just as softly.

Bill slowly walked up to the book. Not touching it, he examined the cover minutely. Aside from a carving of a dragon at the spine, there was nothing written on it.

But it was the metal the hardcover was made of that gave Bill pause.

'The whole book is made of Mithril,' he said in awe. The fabled metal was considered a rarity in the wizarding world. So far, in his experience as a curse breaker, Bill had only come across a small handful of artefacts (mainly small daggers and knives) edged in the legendary metal.

For years, wizard scientists had studied the composition of Mithril. All they had been able to tell so far was that it was a magically crafted alloy of steel. The method had been long lost, and the rarity of the metal, along with its durability, made reverse engineering all but impossible.

Goblin steel was said to be a less durable imitation of Mithril as the goblins were rumoured to have found a way to replicate the process to a degree. However, the nasty little buggers weren't willing to share. And they weren't even considering naming a price.

Although making Mithril was impossible, its properties were well known. All but indestructible, Mithril was the only metallic alloy that could sustain large amounts of magic without becoming warped. It also could effortlessly connect to a wizard's core, unlike wands which needed an incantation and specific movement.

While it wasn't possible to sharpen a Mithril blade, the magic that it absorbed and harnessed whenever a wizard or witch touched it, created a force field around it, forming a blade that could cut through practically anything.

So it was quite unheard of to find a book, of all things, made of the metal. That is if one were to gloss over the fact that books were never made of metal to begin with.

Bill tentatively reached his hand out. If the book was truly Mithril, then it should start glowing the closer it came to his hand.

'Is something the matter?' Harry asked when Bill withdrew his hand from the tome with a frown.

'I don't think I will be able to lift it,' Bill said. 'The only reason why a wizard can lift anything made of Mithril is because of magic. Muggles find it extremely heavy. Generally Mithril glows when someone with magic comes close to It.' he frowned. Looking at the King, he stepped back. 'Why don't you try, your majesty? I have feeling that only you will be able to lift it.'

Harry approached the pedestal.

The book seemed to glow brighter with every step he took. By the time his fingers closed around it, it was as if it was made out of light.

Harry managed to lift the tome from its stony platform with one gentle tug. The intensity of the manuscript's light was such that the room seemed to be much darker.

'Yeah, that's Mithril,' Bill said with a whisper. 'I suspect that it has been enchanted to only work for you and your heirs.' He added. 'He truly was the Prince of Enchanters.'

'Well, he was Merlin,' Harry said, with wonder.

As he stared at the cover of the book, he noticed lines of jet black spider across it in a form reminiscent of the Marauder's Map.

'Can you see this?' he asked, turning the book towards Bill.

'See what?'

'These runes …' Harry paused. 'I have a feeling that only I will be able to read the book.' he concluded. 'Well, this complicates matters,' he muttered to himself.

'Well, what does it say?' Bill asked finally.

'Haven't the foggiest,' Harry replied as he looked at the strange lettering. A closer look at the script showed a series of hieroglyphs encircling a central, much larger, hieroglyph. Opening the book, Harry could see lines of the writing.

'The guys at the Department of Mysteries are going to love this.' Harry said with equal parts resignation and anticipation. While he was quite happy to find another artefact from Arthur's time, along with the great king's grave, he did not look forward to transcribing what looked to be a massive thick book for people to translate. But there was no other choice. He was the only one who could see the symbols.

Perhaps he could give it to his sons? That would require quite a bit of convincing. Not to mention training. Perhaps he could use it to bond with them…

Grimacing to himself, Harry turned to his companion. 'I think we should go now.'

Bill snorted. 'Yeah … the press is going to eat this up!'

'Indeed,' Harry replied. Lightly waving the luminescent book he said in a matter-of-fact voice. 'Too bad we didn't find any other artefacts … like say a book made out of Mithril.'

The momentary look of confusion on Bill's face was so reminiscent of Ron, that Harry felt a muscle in his eye twitch.

'Oh …' his expression cleared quickly (thankfully for both parties). 'Yes, indeed. What a shame.'

Perenelle Flamel sat in the study of her house located in an Unplottable area, silently contemplating.

She was in a quandary.

On one hand, the boy her husband had employed as a pawn had somehow managed to turn the tables on him, and had done so quite magnificently. Now normally, the two of them would have felt respect, and perversely enough, pride upon having someone who was wily enough to outwit one of them, let alone the both of them. After that, they would, respectfully, mind you, dispose of said enemy.

Or wait out said enemy. After all, none of their enemies were immortal. They were.

But this boy was the most devious of them all. Not only had he managed to force Nicolas and her into pledging their loyalty to him, but to his entire bloodline.

That was not something that could be waited out. Sure, eventually, the bloodline might die out. But without outside help, it would take far too long.

And her patience was running out.

This meant that their latest enemy had to be taken care of now. And Nicolas agreed with her.

But there was a minor complication. Their enemy wasn't exactly an enemy.

Magic's supremacy over Muggles was a goal that both husband and wife had wanted to achieve for centuries. Aside from using a small amount of gold for themselves, they devoted almost all of the wealth their Stone and their investments afforded them into achieving that goal. And they had never been closer to obtaining this dream than now.

All of that was only possible because of the very same man who now bound Perenelle and her husband.

Suddenly a thin smile graced the woman's lips as her eyes roved over her desk. A kernel of an idea had presented itself to her.

Thinking rapidly, she began developing on it. With a small smile, she reached out towards a thin solid gold ink pen, barely half a centimetre in girth. There was something poetic about using this pen, the first object that verified the success of her husband's work with the Stone, signalling the beginning of their crusade to help with this problem.

Dipping the slender nib into a pot of ink, she began writing.

Looking at the finished letter, the smile developed into a full-fledged grin. Judging by the fact that her magic had not given even a slight twinge proved that she had managed to find a viable loophole. Slowly, she got up and tied it to an owl, watching as it flew into the horizon.

Her only regret was that she had to associate with those heathens.

One Week Ago

A mother and her two children exited the large manor.

Despite the heat of the day, the three were clothed in black, their expressions solemn as they moved towards the family gravesite. Unseen by them, their guard followed them, alert for any kind of danger.

Entering the plot of land, they passed many old markers till they came to four relatively new gravestones.

Daphne stopped in front of the newest of the markers, recently installed right next to the stones marking the resting places of James and Lily Potter and Sirius Black.

It had been less than a week after the funeral and the first time she and the boys had come to the grave ever since the burial. The sense of loss had been too much to bear.

As it was, she found it hard to keep her composure upon seeing the name carved neatly onto the marble, followed by the date of birth and death.

But she managed. Closing her eyes, she reflected upon the good times they had together. She also reflected upon the day he was killed by that assassin.

Thoughts of the killer steeled her resolve. They had managed to find her. After countless sleepless days, they had found that bitch.

Daphne smiled coldly. Once they had the killer under custody, it would only be a matter of time before they found the rest of the worthless Muggles that dared hire her.

And then, she would personally make sure that they paid ... That they all paid.

She remembered how she had tried to convince Harry into trying for a more peaceful approach to the Muggle Problem. Her time in their world had made her feel a bit sympathetic towards them.

And then they did this.

Now, as she stood there, in the graveyard, holding her children close, Daphne realised that she no longer felt sympathetic towards them.

She was not going to rest till every Muggle paid for this.

The woman pressed enter, sending off her message to her handler and starting a conversation.

Yes.

It is done, she typed rapidly. Her handler was not one for unnecessary words.

Not completely.

The answer surprised her. What do you mean? She typed out, her fingers hitting the keys with more force than was necessary.

There was a long pause. Just as she was about to repeat the question, her computer pinged, indicating a new message had been received. Check the news.

This was followed by a link to a popular online news channel.

Frowning, the woman clicked on the link.

King of England Survives Assassination Attempt

The headline shocked her. It had been weeks since she had time to watch the news. After all, one can't really catch up with the world when the world was out there trying to catch you.

Disbelieving, the former Sister scrolled down the article. It turned out that the King had managed to survive, but was now crippled. Apparently, the monarch had retreated from public view and was rumoured to be bedridden. There was speculation that he would never walk again.

Meanwhile, her handler wasn't content in waiting for her response. The client has seen fit to terminate the contract. Naturally, he considers the first half that he paid to initiate the job to be enough, considering the result. I suggest you be grateful that you have that much … and your life. It also goes without saying that you no longer are a player in this game. Goodbye.

Sister Chloe looked blankly at the screen. She knew she had nailed her target. How had he managed to survive?

Regardless of what she said, she knew one thing: considering her reputation of being one of the best shots in her business, coupled with the high value of the target, the money, and the reputation of the organisation that had hired her, failing this was bad for business.

Acting quickly, she shut off her laptop. Surging to her feet, she started preparing to leave. Her employers definitely won't be happy now. And when they were unhappy … well, she had to be really careful now.

She froze when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps outside her room…

Present Day

'Mr Speaker, The King commands this honourable House to attend His Majesty immediately in the House of Peers.'

Following this traditional and ceremonious speech, the Sargent-at-Arms picked up the Ceremonial Mace and ceremoniously started walking out of the door, soon followed, ceremoniously again, by the Speaker of the House of Commons and the Black Rod.

The Prime Minister, who was already on his feet, waited for the leader of the opposition to join him before (ceremoniously) leading the rest of the House towards the Chambers of the House of Lords along with his opponent.

As was custom every year at the State Opening of Parliament, the MPs were supposed to walk down the path in as rowdy a manner as acceptable, loudly joking and laughing (of course, it went without saying that it was done in a very ceremonious fashion). Indeed, the Prime Minister enjoyed trading barbs with the leader of the opposition (which were a bit more light-hearted than when the two men faced off each other politically). However, this time, his mind was far away.

The recent assassination attempt had the opposition all over him and his party. The very same man standing next to him was revelling in the near-disaster, calling him incompetent and corrupt. The Prime Minister mentally snorted; if that sanctimonious fool only knew…

It was frankly a miracle that the King had not been outright killed in that attempt. Or, the Prime Minister thought dryly, a work of magic.

However the problem was that the King was now effectively crippled. Apparently, there were things that magic could not do. Complications, according to the magical doctors (who called themselves "Healers") had arisen that resulted in the King being unable to use his legs.

According to the Minister of Magic, tensions were high within the magical populace. There were some that were blaming Muggles outright for what they termed as a blatant attack on wizards, going so far as to compare it to the Witch Burnings.

While his magical counterpart had remained tight-lipped, the Prime Minister had a strong suspicion that this group was gaining voice as the days went by. He also had the sneaking suspicion that the rash of odd and unfortunate events and freak accidents that had started plaguing the population across the United Kingdom had something to do with magic.

The most frustrating bit was that they had not been able to find the killer. Something his opponent was happy to gloat over. Though, if the rumours were to be believed, the magical nation was on the case with zeal.

He hoped that the killer was found, and soon. Things would be much better then. It would help ease the magical populace and make the new restrictions he was planning on getting the King to implement on the Wizarding World regarding their use of magic easier to swallow. However, he had no expectations that they would find out who was the one who had ordered the hit.

In the end, however, it would not be able to reverse most of the damage done to the monarch. The Prime Minister had met the King once recently after the shooting incident, and he was quite shocked at what he saw.

Gone was the powerful and imposing man. While he was still handsome as ever, the monarch's eyes had changed. Something new had taken residence there. And that something was bitter and resentful.

The magical aura that the man used to project unconsciously had also gone. It made him look … diminished.

At least he should be now easier to influence. The magical population was really getting out of hand off late. With their absolute leader now bought to heel, the balance of power would be restored.

A Few Days Earlier

'Gentlemen,'

Secrecy wards went up as soon as the door closed. There was muted rustling as everyone settled down in their seats.

'I believe this is the first meeting we are having of this nature where all of us are sitting in the same room together.' The King started. 'I don't think introductions are necessary. We all know each other, as well as the roles everyone is playing. Well, let's get down to it, shall we?'

Green eyes flicked to the person sitting just next to him on the right, 'Report.'

The Minister of Magic cleared his throat. 'As you know, Your Majesty, the Muggle Prime Minister was quick to speak to me regarding what you had told him before. Shortly after that, he gave over five thousand acres to the Ministry's control.'

Taking out a folder, he skimmed the contents. 'We have used the land to build a massive greenhouse with extension charms. As such, the interiors are roughly two hundred thousand acres. By building vertically, we have managed to increase the space to five hundred thousand acres.

'Thanks to the employment opportunities afforded, coupled with the results of the Magical Child Protection Act, our population has increased by one and a half times.'

'Good,' Harry replied a smile. 'Proceed with step two.'

'Yes, your majesty.'

The King then turned his head to look at the two men sitting on his left. 'And what is the status of your assignments?'

The Lead Unspeakable and the man on Harry's immediate left spoke up. 'The initial stage of project "Instant Gratification" has been completed. Our efforts have proven rather fruitful, your majesty. I must admit, I had not fathomed such an ingenious application of one of my department's rarely used resources. I doubt anyone here would have.'

The sovereign inclined his head imperceptibly. 'It is a pity that we can't pursue that avenue again or often enough, though. Hopefully this will be enough.'

From his place next to the Lead Unspeakable, Thomas Belby, the head of the recently installed military wing of the Department of Mysteries, His Majesty's Magical Secret Service, said in a confident voice. 'With the resources Lord Flamel has given us, your majesty, in addition to the results of "Instant Gratification", we should be ready sooner.'

'Good … and finally, Lord Flamel. What news do you have?'

'"Fire Sale" is proceeding smoothly.' The alchemist drawled. 'Our agents await your signal.'

Harry, who was used to the ancient man's abrupt mannerisms, just nodded.

'Good,' The King replied. Turning to Belby, he asked. 'How is Project "Thirst"coming along?'

Belby was the first to respond. 'Agents are being recruited and trained for Project Thirst. They shall be operational in a few months.'

'Researchers are working on Hellfire. Results are quite promising.' The Lead Unspeakable responded without prompting.

'Mission "Impotence" is also coming along fabulously.' The Minister finished. 'We have managed to find and penetrate all the facilities.'

'Good,' Harry said. He inclined his head to the person sitting next to the Minister, causing the man to sit up. 'Robards, has your department surveyed and marked their targets?'

The Head of the Auror force gave a short nod.

'Excellent. Will we be ready to carry out "the first steps of Liberation"?'

'Yes, sir,'

'Good. Coordinate with the Chief Warlock. I do not want any complications on the day.'

Present Day

The Prime Minister entered the chambers of the House of Lords followed by the rest of the MPs to stand at the bar.

As he was in the front, he was the first to see the King sitting on the throne, clad in the Parliament Robe of State with the Imperial State Crown resting on his head.

At first, he wondered how the ceremony had been carried out, what with the King being confined to the wheelchair and all, but then he saw that the monarch was still seated in his wheelchair (an extravagant gold-plated and leather construction that was worth a decent sized car) directly in front of the throne.

It was expenses like these that had him convinced to pass legislation to have the private income of the King released to the state. Not only would it help the government, but it would show a better image of the monarch. It wouldn't do to have the King of England invested in tobacco companies for one!

They only needed to work out a suitable deal to make the transition go down smoothly. At least the King had more than enough income from his magical holdings.

A look at the four burly guards discreetly swinging their arms near the back entrance told him that the monarch was carried up the steps by them, wheelchair and all.

He did not envy them after the King's Speech was done. Perhaps they ought to include a ramp afterwards?

The Prime Minister's thoughts were interrupted when the King started giving his speech.

'My Lords and Members of the House of Commons ….'

The Prime Minister's mind disengaged as the rest of the speech went on. He knew exactly what the King was going to say. He helped write the speech, after all. He did take a moment to note that the King's memory had not been affected at all. The monarch still managed to deliver the speech without even once looking at the document he held loosely in his hand.

He elbowed the MP next to him. While the Queen (who was seated on the traditional throne meant for the consort behind and next to the King) was beautiful, staring at her (no matter how discreetly) was still uncouth.

'And finally, one last matter I wish my parliament to address.'

That statement got the Prime Minister's attention. That part had not been there in the draft he had sent to be ratified by the Cabinet. In fact, he was sure this was the end of the speech.

'My Lords and the Members of the House of Commons, it is our wish, as King of the United Kingdom that the following laws, acts and bills be repealed.'

The Prime Minister, along with all the members of the House of Lords and Commons stared dumbfounded as the King started his list.

'My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I pray that the blessing of Almighty God may rest upon your counsels.'

Having delivered the traditional closing phrase, the King sat back in his wheelchair looking at the utterly silent room in front of him. There was a curious look of expectation on his face, a smile just begging to be released. It was almost as if he was waiting for the inevitable eruption that was sure to follow.

One of the more outspoken MPs of the House of Commons was the first to speak up.

'Your majesty,' the man began in a derisive tone. 'I am afraid that a few points in your speech are never going to happen.'

'And what parts would those be?' The King asked lightly.

'The part where you wish to have the Bill of Rights be abolished, forget the rest of the laws. You see, sir, no one is going to stand to have their liberties be removed nor will anyone be willing to give you absolute power.' Face reddening, the man continued. 'This country is a monarchy in name only. You are the nominal head. The King has no powers! We are a democracy.' Breathing hard, he spoke in a normal tone. 'I think it is high time that the monarchy be abolished.'

His proclamation had the entire room erupt in furious debate. Some called in support of his statement, while others were opposed, saying that the current King was clearly not in his right mind.

Nobody noticed the few people who were rather calm through the whole thing. Nor did they notice the muted pops coming from the previously empty galleries which were being slowly filled up.

The King sat there for a long moment, a look of deep amusement on his face, before deciding to act.

The collective in the room shivered as they felt an invisible power wash over them. An invisible, supernatural power that the Prime Minister was well acquainted with, having been exposed to it regularly. With dread, he realised that the King had been hiding his power all along. He started to wonder if the King had been acting all this time.

'You seem to think that you have a choice.'

The MP who had started off the whole drama squeaked. The King's tone was no longer light, but filled with menacing power.

The Prime Minister, who was more used to seeing those luminous green eyes, spoke up, rather bravely, 'Scare tactics are not going to work on us, Your Majesty. Your gifts will not be able to convince us.'

As the MPs around him looked at the Prime Minister in confusion, Harry chuckled.

'Is that so, Prime Minister?'

Leaning forward, the King shocked the room again when he effortlessly got to his feet.

'Lord Longbottom, Lord Malfoy, please … convince the Muggles.'

Immediately a man with a pointy face and white blond hair stood up along with a large sandy haired man. Both were wearing the red robes of the House of Lords.

In unison, they reached into their robes and withdrew what the Prime Minister recognised as wands.

'Stupefy!'

As the first jet of light hit erupted from the wands, panic started as members of both houses started scrambling. This panic was further compounded when more jets of light started shooting down from the gallery above.

Members of the House of Commons fell upon the door behind them, only to find their way locked.

The King stood calmly throughout the furore, smirking slightly. Turning around, he made his way to the throne, next to his smirking wife, his wheelchair fading out of existence as he passed it by.

Flicking his long train over his right shoulder, he sat down on the throne, absently conjuring a goblet of wine for both him and the Queen.

With a twitch of his finger, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was sent flying backwards to Harry's feet, momentarily distracting the Muggles enough for the Wizards to complete their work.

'Look, Prime Minister, and see how my people use magic to bend your feeble minds.' Harry said maliciously as he levitated the man and forced him to look at the scene in front of him.

The Premier had no choice but to watch as the cries of his countrymen petered out, either crumpling onto the ground unconscious or bound in ropes as the Wizards shouted out various words.

'Once we have all of you lot subdued, we shall be using the Imperius Curse,' Harry said conversationally. 'It allows the caster to control the victim. The target of such a curse is robbed of his will. He has no choice but to do whatever is asked of him ... Complete, absolute, control.

'In a few days, the entire parliament is going to unanimously repeal all those pesky laws that limit our power. What is more, nobody will know of that fact, because you, and them, are going to keep it quiet. And you all will do it because of all those fine wizards and witches. And those aren't just your average Witch or Wizard. Oh no, they are all members of the Wizengamot.'

'You won't be able to get away with this,' The Prime Minister said viciously.

'Oh? We think that we already have.'

'Well, your majesty, you forgot the cameras recording everything live! Even as I speak, they are showing the world your tyranny.'

Much to his horror, the King just laughed.

'What, those cameras?' Harry said with mirth as he gestured towards the gallery where the press assembled. 'Oh, my dear, dear, Prime Minister, do you really think we're that much of a fool?' he snorted once more. 'Look up there closely, Prime Minister.'

Looking up at the gallery which was directly above the bar where the members of the House of Commons normally stood, the Prime Minister could see that there was nobody behind the cameras.

'Those cameras aren't operational. They were disabled the minute the doors behind you closed. All everyone is going to see is a regular, run of the mill State Opening. And that is because we went through the trouble of having a dress rehearsal a few days back. What did you think we did when the place was "closed for maintenance"?'

Harry gave an amused look at the Prime Minister. 'Oh, and the only Muggles in this entire building happen to be present in this room. Everyone else, the guards you passed by outside, the Black Rod, the Sargent at Arms, the boys who carried our train … all of them are magical. We even used Polyjuice to impersonate the more well-known figures.'

'Oh, but you don't know what Polyjuice is. Well, the potion gives the drinker the ability to look like whoever they want to for an hour. All is needed is a part of the person they wish to change into. Things like hair strands, nail clippings … you get the drift. We used that quite extensively to engineer the charade that millions of viewers are currently enjoying on the telly. Of course,' he admitted. 'We could have just Imperiused them in their homes and be done with it, but I wanted some entertainment.'

'Why are you doing this?' The Prime Minister finally moaned. 'This is your own country; those are your own people!'

'Why?' In a waspish tone of barely controlled fury, it was the Queen this time who answered.

Getting up from her throne, she stalked towards the man, her beautiful alabaster face alight with fury.

'After what you and yours have done, you dare ask the question, Muggle? You dare act like the put upon victim here?' she sneered. 'It is true, then. My husband was right. You Muggles have no spine whatsoever.'

Whipping her wand out, she practically screeched the word.

'Crucio!'

As the Muggle started screaming, Harry gently said. 'He's not worth it, luv. Leave it.'

With a great effort, Daphne lifted the curse. Spitting on the Prime Minister, she pinned him down with a foot. Removing a photograph from within her dress, she crouched down till her face was inches from the struggling Muggle's.

'My husband was willing to raise this country to never seen before heights. He was willing to work with you Muggles to achieve this. And yet, how do you repay him? You send a filthy assassin.'

'Oh yes,' she hissed at the surprised look on the Muggle's face. 'We caught that bitch. We had the best Legilimens rip her mind open, and we even had a team go through her laptop … consorting with foreigners, Prime Minister? Who's the traitor here?'

'Oh wait, let me guess,' she continued derisively. 'You're surprised that the "backward" Wizarding World knows anything about computers and how to operate them. Well, sorry to burst your bubble. While most of us couldn't be bothered to get right the names of the rubbish you invent, we do know how to operate them. At the least, we can learn.'

Shoving the photo in his face she said. 'See this man? Do you know who he is?'

The Prime Minister shook his head mutely, his eyes wide. Aside from the horror of the situation and the rage he was experiencing from the normally placid Queen, he was also stupefied by the picture. Never in his life had he seen a picture in which the subject moved. As it was, the figure of the young man within was looking at him with a look of disgust identical to the Queen's while making rude gestures.

'His name was Mark Evans.' Daphne said lowly. 'He was like a brother to me, and to Harry. He was the one who volunteered to act as a double, so that my husband could have more time to spend with his family. His plan was to go out in the Muggle public, under Polyjuice, and act as the King. It took a lot of convincing, you know. Both he and I had to work on my husband to get him to agree on this. Only to have your operative shoot him down, like a dog. The coward did not even have the decency of showing her face when she did it, either.'

Straightening up, she looked at her still seated husband. 'I think I'm done for the day. If you will excuse me … the stench of Muggles is getting to me.'

Amused the still seated King silently inclined his head to the side.

Taking that as her cue, Daphne only spared one contemptuous glance at the Prime Minister before disappearing from the room.

'Did you know,' Harry said after Daphne had disappeared. 'That my initial idea had been to completely decimate the Muggle world?' he looked at the Prime Minister thoughtfully.

'Unfortunately, there were a few out there who weren't as convinced. My wife was one of them. She spent some time asking me to consider working with you people. She and quite a few others wanted me to create a separate country ... One free from Muggle influence. She felt that there was a possibility that we could coexist peacefully.

'But that was then. Ever since your assassination attempt … well, let's say that there are now fewer dissenters to my vision. Mark's death, as regrettable as it is, did help galvanise the British Wizarding world at least into seeing the dangers your kind pose to us. And once I am done speaking to the International Confederation, the rest of the magical world will feel the same as well. You Muggles are not tolerant; you will do whatever it takes to remain at the top. You are not, and will not be, willing to share. You would find a way to forcibly enslave us, just like you have done so far. And one only need to look at the deplorable way you have treated non-magical beasts to know that you would treat magical creatures and beings the same way, exploiting them all for your own gain, and hunting them to extinction.'

Standing up, the King looked down his nose at the Prime Minister. 'I would thank you for encouraging my people, but then again … you did kill Mark.' The King sneered at the fallen Muggle.

Looking up, Harry gestured to the Minister of Magic, who was waiting at the side.

'Goodbye, Prime Minister,' was the last sentence the Muggle was conscious of hearing before he sank into a haze, his conscious eradicated and supplanted.

Harry smiled coldly as he looked over at the room.

'Does everybody have their targets under control?' he asked calmly.

'Yes, your majesty,' One of the members of the Wizengamot, a prominent businessman who was recently inducted by the King, said.

'Good. Do one last final check, and then send your marks out.' Turning to Neville, Harry said. 'I leave the rest in your capable hands.'

Collectively, the wizards and their controlled Muggles bowed to the King who smiled before silently Apparating away.

The first stage of operation Liberation was complete.

Jean-Sebastian looked around him as he walked down the halls of Windsor Castle.

While he himself was a powerful and wealthy man, he did not have a large manor in the countryside. Not that it mattered, considering that he was quite happy with his house located in Île Saint-Louis.

Though his surroundings did make him feel whimsical.

He was wrenched out of his thoughts when his escort rapped on the door and opened it.

'Jean-Sebastian,' The King said warmly as soon as Jean-Sebastian entered. 'Please, sit.'

Being in moderately friendly terms with each other, the two men spent some time catching up on various topics. Harry was happy that Fleur and Bill had recently discovered that they were pregnant while Jean-Sebastian was interested to note that ten year old Edmund was growing like a weed and was eager to start Hogwarts. While the boy was unhappy that he would not be able to study at the school for another two years because his birthday fell in late September, he was happy that he and James would be there in the same year.

But finally, they got down to business.

'Marie-Jacques Coeur De Lion is proving to be quite an obstacle in my plans.'

'Yes,' Jean-Sebastian said in accent less English. 'She is quite resistant in changing loyalties.'

'She's Muggleborn, I believe?' Harry said after a moment.

'Yes, indeed. The first Muggleborn to be elected in France, in fact,' Jean-Sebastian replied. 'She is rather against the Muggleborn Child Protection Act that you had introduced so many years ago.'

Harry snorted. 'Why am I not surprised?' he asked rhetorically.

'As you know, sir, she shares a rather distant relationship with the King of Spain. I suspect that the King has been quite close to her. I wouldn't be surprised that his influence is the reason she has been elevated to such a position.'

Silence filled the room as the men thought.

'Can we have her impeached?' Harry said slowly.

'I doubt it.' Jean-Sebastian replied. 'Her reputation is practically lily-white. Her … unfortunate attachment to the Muggle world aside, she is quite a decent person. Honest, willing to work for the people … you know the sort.'

'Well then,' Harry replied with a smile. 'When faced with such a problem, one must make a solution. Can you use your contacts to create such a solution?'

Jean-Sebastian smirked. 'That can happen.'

Harry studied the enigmatic smile on his companion's face with a raised eyebrow.

'And how will I ensure that it does happen?'

The smile on Jean-Sebastian's face widened in response as the man fixed the King with a knowing look.

Chuckling lightly, Harry leaned back in his chair. 'Ah, I see.' Turning his head, he looked out of the window, seemingly deep in thought.

'One must always be careful when making such propositions. After all, such an agreement is never between just the two negotiating parties.' Eyes flicking to the Frenchman, he continued. 'I suppose that her … desires have not changed, then?'

'No, sire,' Jean-Sebastian replied evenly. 'They have not.'

Harry twisted his wedding ring as he spoke. 'And mine haven't either.'

He gazed at Jean-Sebastian. 'I do not know why you are bringing up the topic at this point. I distinctly remember agreeing before. And I assure you that my intentions have not changed so far.'

'I understand, your majesty,' Jean-Sebastian said with a nod. 'However, I was hoping for our plans to be expedited by a few years…' he trailed off delicately.

'Very well,' Harry placed his hands on the armrests of his chair. 'However, I would like to meet her one more time before going with it.'

Jean-Sebastian smiled widely. 'That can be arranged immediately, your majesty.'

Harry smiled back. While he did not hate the father of his future second wife per se, he didn't exactly like him either. Unlike Cyrus, whom Harry got along with well, Jean-Sebastian came across as a bit of an opportunist and a snob. While Harry was sure that he loved his daughters and was a good enough person, there was just something about the Frenchman's personality that was mildly irritating.

Harry waited outside the chambers of the International Confederation of Wizards, waiting for his cue to enter the room.

Over the past years, his ambassadors had been hard at work, talking to the heads of various magical nations, convincing them to throw off the shackles the Muggles had them under and join under Harry's banner.

Surprisingly enough, there were some that were not willing to swear allegiance, preferring their Muggle masters instead.

Others had a problem with the fact that Harry came from Britain. The King rolled his eyes when thinking of them. Yes, he agreed that at one point Britain had colonised those countries, and perhaps it was a bad thing, but for Merlin's sake, it was Muggle Britain!

However, those people were easily taken care of. For example, Suraj Devatha, the Minister of the Magical Kingdom of Mysore was a friend of a friend of the wife of a cousin of a distant relation of the Patils in Britain. All it took was a few favours to the family; a business venture here, a Royal Endorsement there, coupled with a title conferred to Sanjay Patil (the elder brother of the Patil Twins) and a few years later, every Auror and government official in Mysore was now loyal to Harry. And that eventually lead to the impeachment of Mr Devatha. It was hard to be minister when your entire government no longer is loyal to you.

Of course, the former minister had then disappeared. After all, it would not do for the Muggles to get wind of changing loyalties.

For that reason alone, magical contracts and Obliviation spells were used quite extensively. Along with strategic applications of the Avada Kedavra curse (as the late Mr Devatha found out) and Imperius curse (as the weak willed Minister of Thailand, Aroon Changthongkam was to discover).

So far, the nations in Europe, Africa and Asia were cooperating nicely. He did not have to bother with Australia and New Zealand as those countries were already under his aegis. However, The Americas were proving to be difficult.

While Canada was in the bag, the Magical Federation of Northern America (which spanned the territories of the Muggle United States of America and Mexico) was proving to be reticent.

An incident between the Federation and Germany coupled with a hot-headed minister and firebrand Mugwump had the country all but withdrawing from the International Confederation.

Considering that this was not the first time they had done something like this, the International Confederation had decided to revoke their membership. The general consensus was that if the country wanted no part with the greater magical community as a whole because of minor trifling issues then it was their problem. If and when they decided to get someone more sensible, would be the time the International Confederation would think of giving them their membership. That is, after they paid the hefty fine, of course.

Not that it was going to stop the King from sending operatives into the Muggle United States of America. They had quite an important job to do, after all.

South America was too small to consider as the magical tribes there refused to talk to any outsiders.

Harry was snapped out of his thoughts when he was given the signal.

Entering the chambers, Harry took a moment to observe the large amphitheatre-like room, packed with witches and wizards, each representing their respective countries.

He knew that each and every one of the hundred odd magical nations that had sworn loyalty to him had attended, just as he had expected them to.

Shaking the hand of the Supreme Mugwump, Harry gracefully sat on the throne-like chair offered to him, bidding the Mugwumps in front of him to sit as well.

Automatically, charms around the chair activated, their function was to transmit and translate whatever that was said into the earpieces of the various delegates.

'Mugwumps and Ministers of all magical nations,' Harry said. 'I realise that this is highly irregular, to call for an emergency meeting. However, we all are faced with a problem.

'For centuries now, we all have lived first under persecution, and later, hiding, from our non-magical brethren, whom we call Muggles. So long has this been the case that nobody now remembers that there was indeed, a time when witches, wizards, and magic were looked upon with awe and respect. Magical doctors were revered for their healing prowess. Court Wizards and Witches were looked up to by the general populace. There even was a time when magical Kings and Queens used to rule nations!

'When I was a child, when I first was introduced to the beautiful and wondrous world of magic, the prevalent thought that I had was: why? Why do we, who can do so much, things that Muggles can dream of (and more!) live in hiding? Why do we hide our talents? Why can't magic be practised openly?

'The answer I was given was that the Muggles would try to exploit us. That they would fear and loathe us, despise us, even, for the things we could do, for something that we were born with.'

Harry paused to look around him. 'In History of Magic, we are taught of our dark past. The times when being magical could get you killed. While there were many instances of people managing to escape because they had their wands, there are an equal and in some cases, greater number of magical people being killed by Muggles. A majority of them were children, discovered and subsequently killed in ways too gruesome to repeat because they accidentally showed some of their talents in front of the Muggles. We are also told tales of Witches and Wizards being harassed for their talents, forced to cater to an unappreciative Muggle populace. Only to be driven out the minute they stop being of use.'

Harry paused once more for effect. 'I,' he said, putting a hand to his heart. 'Know first-hand the intolerance that Muggles show towards us. Many of you know my story by now. About how my Muggle guardians hated me, absolutely hated me for my talents. About how they made up lies, lies that their fellow Muggles believed wholeheartedly. I was less than human in their eyes. They denigrated me and my parents, they made me live in a cramped cupboard while they enjoyed the rest of their large house. They basically did everything possible to keep me downtrodden. And they did this for one simple objective in mind: to "stamp the magic" out of me.'

His statement was met with gasps and cries of outrage.

'So, one cannot blame us for wanting to hide, to protect ourselves and our magical creatures as well from Muggles.

'But that begs another question. Why didn't we conquer? Why, instead of hiding, didn't we subjugate Muggles? We can do so much with magic. Our technology was superior to what the Muggles had, and it still is superior. While they struggle to understand matter, we manipulate it with abandon. We sell models of our galaxy in our shops while they still have yet to decide how many planets are circling the sun! They consider growing ears to be advanced science while we can grow entire limbs. And we aren't too shabby in battle. Why then, isn't this a true Wizarding World?

'The answer to that is just as simple. It is something that every Mugwump sitting here knows. Something that nobody is willing to tell their respective populaces, because it is so shameful, so appalling, that people pretend that it does not exist.

'Everybody here was a slave: A slave of the Muggles.'

'You know this is true,' Harry said over the mutterings and inhalations his statement brought.

He shifted to look at the Mugwump from Greece directly. 'Didn't Greece have to increase their taxes a few years back by a large percentage?'

'Yes,' the man replied, his expression ugly.

'And why was that?'

'His Imperial Majesty demanded that Greece pay money to help boost the flagging economy of Muggle Greece.' The flat voice of the translation charm belied the furious face and rapid Greek of the clearly upset Mugwump.

'How much did he demand?' Harry asked lowly, knowing the answer.

'Eleven billion Galleons,'

While everyone knew of the amount, the collective still flinched upon hearing the pronouncement.

'That was around five years back,' Harry said. 'Greece has recovered somewhat now. Did you get any compensation for that?'

'None,'

Harry looked around the room. 'Muggle Greece did not pay interest. In fact, they did not even have to pay the loan Magical Greece gave them to begin with!'

The King paused as he let the various delegates voice their disapproval.

'Now this isn't the first time it has happened. Throughout history many of us have been forced to give those Muggles our gold for no return whatsoever. What's more, they even force us to buy their Muggle money at a much lower rate.'

He took out a Galleon from his pocket. It was newly minted and contained his profile on the face. 'This coin weighs one ounce and is twelve karat gold. That is around five hundred Pounds sterling. Yet the exchange rate is five Pounds to a Galleon, a hundredth of the actual value of this coin.

'And if that wasn't enough, those Muggles have devised many ways to keep us down. It's a well-known fact now that the laws that discriminate against Muggleborns are either endorsed by the Muggles themselves or introduced by them to keep our population down.'

'But that pales in comparison to what they tried recently.' The King paused as if steeling himself.

'The Muggles couldn't bear the thought of a Wizarding King existing. Oh no, as far as they were concerned, such a person represented freedom, freedom from their tyranny and oppression. So what do they do? They try to kill us.' he slapped his palm against his chest emphatically, causing the chamber to erupt in shouts of indignation.

'Mark was a dear friend of mine, and he offered to take my place so I could focus more on my people.' He stretched his hands out as if to include the collective before him, 'The Wizarding World.

'He was there in my place when those Muggles made their assassination attempt. He did not deserve to die.

'Before the … incident, I had tried to resolve our problems peacefully. I thought that once we show them that we can help make the world a better place, they will consider leaving us in peace. I now realise how wrong I was.' Harry bowed his head.

His audience watched with baited breath. They could almost feel the sorrow and disappointment radiating from the King.

'Now,' Harry said slowly as he raised his head. 'I realise that there is no peaceful solution to be had. The Muggles don't want to share. They will not give us our freedom.

'All they have done, and still do, is take: they have taken our money,' he nodded towards the Greek Mugwump. 'They have taken our freedom, and our children.

'What next? Will they take our magic? Will we have to apply for a special permission from a filthy Muggle to purchase a wand? What if they decide that the land we have should be theirs? Or that we should not be allowed to teach the magical arts to our children or even better, magical technology?

'The Muggle Prime Minister of Britain tried the very same thing, my friends!' he said to the stunned disbelief of the people sitting in the room. 'He wanted us to restrict the use of magic in Britain. To make it illegal to use the one thing we were born with in the presence of Muggles. No matter the circumstance. In fact, he wished us to declare areas of the country "magic free zones".' He finished in disgust.

'That was the last straw as far as we are concerned. Now … now we control them.'

A collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the room at that revelation.

'We all know what happened to magical China, that once great nation and its peoples when the last Emperor of China was deposed. Many wizards and witches died in the purge that followed. If it were not for Hong Kong, I can tell you all with certainty that there would not be one single magical person of Chinese origin. I look at that as an example and I say, "ENOUGH!"' he roared.

'From this day on, I say that we are no longer Greek, or French, or Indian, or British, or Thai, or any other such thing. For those are Muggle labels. No, from this moment on, we are magical. I, say we should declare ourselves as the new Magical Empire!'

The resounding cheers made the question of a formal vote a moot point. Cries of, 'For the Empire!' and 'Long like the Emperor!' rang out.

The new proclaimed Emperor signalled for quiet.

'Now, my friends, I have an important task to ask of you. I ask you to show patience. For now, we shall pretend that nothing has changed. Let the Muggles stay happily ignorant. Meanwhile, I shall send over some of my officials to implement the grand plan that I along with a few talented wizards and witches have developed. Soon enough, the Muggles will know magic's might!'

More cheers met his proclamation. At first they were the same exclamations as before. Then suddenly, a new cheer broke out.

It started out small, among a few of the Mugwumps from Africa as they chanted the last few words of the new Emperor. But it soon grew as other Mugwumps heard and approved. By the time it was heard throughout the chamber, it had mutated.

Harry softly whispered the chant as a satisfied smile broke out onto his face.

'Magic is might!'

Yeah it has been quite awhile ... there are two reasons for that (besides RL):

1. That inscription outside King Arthur's tomb in the first scene. It is Old English for "Here Lies Arthur; Magical King of England, Wales and Scotland". That was a bitch to write. I had to go through quite a few sites that translated Modern English (what we use now) into Old English (what used to be spoken all those centuries ago). It took me two whole weeks! And I am not certain if I got it right. At least my saving grace is that nobody speaks that language any more. It's sort of a pet peeve of mine, actually. As that inscription shows, the language spoken then was completely different from what is spoken now. In fact, you couldn't even call it English! Yet, despite this quite easily verifiable fact (for god's sakes, even Wikipedia knows about this!) you have stories where Harry meets the Founders in their time and they speak perfect modern English!

*facepalm*

And then, there was this other fic where Harry goes into the time of the Founders and they speak bad Shakespearean English ... I did not know whether to laugh or cry!

So yeah, if you come across any Founder fic, where Harry understands the Founders and vice-versa immediately, you know what to do... :D

2. I also have been doing some polishing and touching up of my other story, Black Vengeance. Basically I ninja-edited it. But you should give the third chapter another look (if you already read that story). I have included Peter Pettigrew's fate, and also, put in what I think is quite a new idea regarding how the audience of the Triwizard Tournament saw the second task. Normally people talk about cameras and all ... my take is quite different! Read and tell me what you think!

And if you haven't read it yet, give it a go!

That's it for now, read and review! Oh, and yeah, no cliffie here! Aren't I nice!

43. The Other Side

In an Unplottable location somewhere in the east of Britain was a large property. The dominating feature of the large area was the field that consisted of a beach, and more importantly, an obstacle course that was currently being used by a large number of men and women outfitted in khaki trousers and vests.

'Their uniforms are rather … Muggle in nature,' commented the wizard on Harry's right.

The monarch shrugged. 'It has been found to be the most effective in allowing mobility. Why fix something that isn't broken?'

Not giving his companion time to answer, Harry stepped off the cliff he was standing on and floated down towards the training field.

'Hold!' shouted the instructor. He did not need to get a good look at the face of the figure approaching him. As far as he knew, only the King could fly like that.

If that wasn't enough, the sight of some of the King's Guard securing the area even as more figures followed him on broom was enough of a hint.

'Form up!'

Immediately the men and women stopped whatever it was they were doing and with soft pops, Apparated behind their trainer in a perfect line, saluting crisply.

'Impressive,' Harry said with a nod. 'I see that you have coordinated Apparition down.'

'Thank you, your imperial majesty.' The instructor said with a bow.

Harry's mouth twitched. 'We aren't an emperor yet, Mr Dawson.' He said calmly. 'Let's not get ahead of ourselves.'

Dawson wasn't fazed. 'Not officially.'

'I thank you for your confidence.' Harry said graciously. 'Now, is the general in?' seeing the man nod nervously, Harry grinned. 'Good. I assume he is in his office then?' Looking up at the men and women behind Dawson, he continued. 'You may continue with whatever it is you were doing. I look forward to the upcoming demonstration.' Crisply turning around, he headed towards the building.

'If I may ask, sir, is the general expecting you? I had no idea that your majesty was going to be conducting an investigation. Otherwise I would have prepared something more suitable like a few sparring sessions between our soldiers.'

Harry turned back. 'Oh heavens, I hope not! It would ruin the surprise.' He smiled. 'Carry on, Sargent. You have a lot of preparation to do, to show us and our parliament how well our army has been trained.'

Harry's companion was waiting for him by the entrance, clearly having Apparated there directly from the cliff.

'Minister,' Harry said with a nod without breaking his stride. The Minister of Magic wordlessly fell in step. They were followed inside by two of the guards.

The various personnel did not register his presence till he was ensconced in the general's office, his remaining two guards standing outside and fixing the room with impassive expressions.

Having had enough time to register the King's arrival, the general was more composed. With a bow at the neck, the man ushered Harry to the large leather chair behind the desk as he took the visitor's chair next to the Minister of Magic.

'So, general,' Harry began. 'What is your input on the weapons technology sent your way two months back?'

'Very impressive, sire.' The man replied readily. 'We especially liked the staves. They will be very useful for artillery. The range and power is quite impressive. I daresay that they could be a match for the rocket launchers the Muggles use. Of course,' he grimaced. 'There is the issue of power. Those things make our men easily tired.'

Harry shrugged. 'It cannot be helped. The boffins are working on improvements.' He slowly drummed his fingers on the table top. 'It is after all, an ancient invention that was rediscovered.'

'Ah yes, that mystery book of Merlin's. They managed to translate it?'

Harry smiled in reminiscence. It had taken two whole months to write down ten pages worth of the inscriptions on parchment. His kids had taken to the project with enthusiasm, thereby lessening the time. James was particularly good at drawing.

That was then sent off (along with the assorted illustrations and diagrams) to the Unspeakables for their team (comprising of their best Arithmancy and Runes experts) to devour.

It had taken three months of intense brainstorming, researching, conferring and calculations for the team to finally crack the language.

Owing to the surprising similarity this as yet unnamed language had with modern English in grammar, syntax and number of letters, translating it into English and fashioning a key was quite easy. This eventually helped speed up the process of copying the book down.

Of course, Harry made sure to draw the characters as he saw them in the book itself. It wouldn't do to have a mistranslation.

At the end, Harry, James and Edmund learnt a new language (even if it was only the written form), and the boys got good practise in penmanship and art.

And the Department of Mysteries got some really interesting information.

The book, probably authored by Merlin himself, was titled (to Harry's and everyone's amusement) "Excalibur". Even though it was not the fabled sword of King Arthur, the book was definitely a weapon in that it contained very valuable knowledge.

The book was filled with plans of magical weapons technology and spells that could be used in open warfare.

Unfortunately, almost all of the plans were unfinished. The author (one researcher had made the rather unpopular hypothesis that Merlin may not have been responsible for the conception of the book) deciding that they were either not practical, or incapable of working.

That wasn't to say that the book was completely useless. A gem that the researchers had found was information on the creation and usage of the War Staff. Large and unwieldy, they lacked the finesse of the wand. While the wand (a tool that was already in regular use during Merlin's time) had a low output, one could use it to shape intricate and delicate spells that yielded complex results, such as the spells required in transfiguration. The wand was like a scalpel. The staff, however, was, to put it simply, a sledgehammer. A wizard could use it to cast spells that had a wider area of effect. A blasting curse from a staff could create a two foot wide crater while a wand would produce, at best, something that was half a foot in diameter.

There was a downside, though. The staves took up too much energy. An average powered magical could at the most cast five spells before he had to rest.

But nothing in the book would have been possible to create if it wasn't for the singularly most crucial bit of information that the book contained. Information that had every single person who was aware of the book and had read it practically throwing orgasmic fits.

The process involved in creating Mithril.

Harry had immediately acquired a few steel plants to create the legendary metal. As the spells involved in the creation of Mithril could be self-sustained with minimal human interaction, the process could be easily automated.

Even now, plans were being made to increase production, acquire and set up more foundries and increase the stockpile.

Improvements on the formula were also being researched, now that the exact process was known. It was hoped that the amount of magic demanded from the wizard could be reduced while simultaneously keeping the same output, with a view to increasing the effects too.

'Yes,' Harry said with a small smile. 'They have. You should expect new toys for your people to play with, general.'

Taking a moment to note the gleam in the general's eye, Harry continued. 'However, we have another reason for coming here. Now, I have observed your people in training (secretly, mind you) and I am quite confident about our readiness. I am quite certain that the Wizengamot will see things the same way. And so, in anticipation of this, we have your very first assignment for you.'

Saying this, Harry signalled to the Minister, who took out a large folder and handed it over to the general.

'You have ten days after the demonstration. How you do it is up to you, as long as you meet the primary objectives.'

The general looked through the folder. 'Interesting choice for support,' he commented with a furrowed brow. 'They are willing to aid us?'

'They have no choice,' Harry replied with a smirk.

Nodding, the general set down the folder. 'It will be done, your majesty.'

'Good. I need not tell you how important this will be for our future plans?' Getting a curt nod in reply, Harry continued. 'Excellent. We look forward to hearing of your success.'

Standing up, Harry nodded to the military officer who responded with a crisp salute.

'Good luck, may Merlin be with you, General Hodgkin.'

Harry laughed loudly as he set down his cup of Earl Grey tea.

'Oh, I still remember McGonagall's face!'

Neville, who had broached the topic that got the monarch to start laughing in the first place smiled broadly. 'Yeah, that was priceless! The dressing down she gave them afterwards was funny too. I think they were about to cry once she was done!'

With a sigh, both men fell into a reminiscent silence…

'Dad! Dad! Look what I can do!'

… That was broken quite occasionally by the shrieks coming from Edmund and James as they flew around the grounds behind the Potter ancestral home.

'Please be careful, Your Royal Highnesses,' said their governess admonishingly as she flew behind them. The poor woman, while a capable flyer herself, was nonetheless out of her depth here as the princes were quite literally flying circles around her.

'That's nice Edmund,' Harry called back. 'But please listen to your nanny. And James, enough barrel rolls! For Merlin's sake, you'll make yourself dizzy and fall off your broom!'

'They take after their father quite nicely,' Neville commented.

Harry snorted, letting go of the death grip he had on the table.

'I wasn't that reckless!' he supplied as he flexed his aching right hand. Picking up his teacup with his other hand, he took a sip, not letting his eyes stray from his children playing. 'I'm seriously going to need something stronger.'

'Bullshit!' Neville guffawed. 'I have seen you fly for seven years straight. Those two there haven't got anything on you! Why, I bet First-Year Harry Potter would have been able to make them look like safe, conscientious flyers in comparison. Hell, I bet one year old Harry Potter would have put them to shame!'

Harry sat up at that last statement. 'How did –. You spoke to Bagshot, didn't you?' he said in a defeated tone.

'Yep,' Neville replied with a smug grin. 'Though, I suspect you spoke to her too, seeing as you know about it.'

'Actually I found out from a letter my mother wrote to my godfather after my first birthday. It was in his room, amongst many other things.'

There was a few moments silence where the two men watched the kids flying. 'I can see why you are worried.' Neville commented after a while. 'I too think they might fall any minute.' He gave his friend a considering glance. 'In fact, I am quite surprised that you haven't gone up there yet.'

'Well …' Harry replied after a long moment. 'I would have been more worried if I hadn't already cast cushioning and softening charms on the ground beneath …' he took another sip of his beverage, '…And the momentum arresting charm that I placed about a foot above the ground. And that's the only reason I haven't told them to get their little backsides down on the ground.'

Tearing his eyes away from the children, he considered his old school friend. 'So … what brings you here?'

'Do I need a reason to visit my best friend, honorary nephews and godsons?' Neville replied in a mock-affronted voice.

Harry only raised an eyebrow. 'You brought Susan along with you,' he said in a deadpan. 'You never bring Susan with you. You either come alone or come with Susan and Hannah together. Neville, Susan and Hannah … either that, or one of the three of you individually and at the most Susan and Hannah … and whomever Hannah is seeing at the moment.'

'Oh, remember Hannah's last boyfriend? What's-his-face? He was two years older than us. Boy, did I enjoy making him squirm after the crap he put me through in school!'

Harry sighed. 'Neville, Robert only called you a dim-witted moron once. And that was because you had oh so happily left a list of all the passwords set for the week lying around where anyone could have got it. And as you no doubt know, the one person who the entire school was trying to keep out managed to get his hands on that list. It happened a long time back, when we were kids. Let it go, already. And for fuck's sake, stop changing the fucking topic.' He paused to look at his friend. 'Now why are you and Susan so keen to meet the two of us?'

Before the blond could answer, Susan and Daphne stepped through the wards separating the pool and the rest of the house from the patio.

'Ladies,' Harry said, as he and Neville stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Neville twitch slightly.

A suspicion slowly forming in his mind, Harry sat back as the women made themselves comfortable. He causally glanced at the playing boys and was gratified to note that they had begun to slow down. They would be landing shortly.

Glancing into his wife's eyes, he sent a mental probe to gently knock on her shields with his question. The smile on her face coupled with her non-verbal answer had his lips twitching.

'So,' Harry said slowly. 'Neville was telling me the reason he wanted to meet me on this fine Sunday morning before you ladies arrived.' He focussed his attention on his friend with an expectant look on his face, 'Neville?'

The fair-haired man flushed uncharacteristically. 'Um, Susan and I are planning to get married.' he reached out to take Susan's hands.

'I was wondering when the two of you would finally get around to it.' Harry said with a genuine smile on his face. 'Well, congratulations! This calls for a celebration. Twiggy! Get a bottle of our finest champagne and four glasses from the cellar please.'

Holding his glass up, the King and Queen toasted the new couple.

Setting the glass down, Harry smirked at his friend. 'Now, was that so hard, Longbottom? The way you were going on, one would think that you were telling your grandmother! Though, I will give you credit; you're better than Draco.'

Neville sat up at this. 'What, Malfoy came around?' Although he appeared casual when he said it, Harry was amused to note a hint of dislike.

'Yes he did. He was with Astoria too.' Harry allowed a smile to break out on his face. 'He was all proper and everything. Idiot thought that he had to ask for my permission. Watching him squirm really did make my day.' He sighed wistfully. 'My only regret is that I couldn't drag it out further.'

Neville made a noncommittal noise on hearing about Draco Malfoy's engagement. 'Why didn't you? Drag it out, I mean.'

'That's because of this one's sister,' Harry jabbed a thumb at his wife causing his spouse to turn and glare playfully at him. 'She spent the whole twenty minutes of Draco's stuttering and posturing scowling at the two of us. She, rightly, mind you, didn't feel the need to seek my blessings. Funnily enough, the looks she was shooting me made Draco even more uncomfortable.'

Daphne snorted. 'Yes,' she drawled. 'And no one here will make any mention of how clueless you were for those first twenty minutes. Nor shall anyone speak about the look on your face when you finally understood why Draco and Astoria were there.'

Neville and Susan chuckled as Harry huffed. 'Well, it was less to do with the fact that they, I mean Draco, wanted to talk about a possible future with your sister than it has to do with the fact that you will have Draco Malfoy as your brother-in-law.'

Harry smiled as the smirk on Daphne's face was wiped off. 'What, dear, didn't you realise that yet? Surely you would have caught onto the fact that him marrying your sister would make him … family. Well, at least on your side. I'm safe!'

'He's still your cousin,' Daphne said in a deadpan.

'Meh,' Harry replied, unperturbed. 'I've accepted my relation to him quite a long time back. Besides, it is comfortably far off. You on the other hand…' he trailed off delicately.

Daphne's response was cut off as two hungry children descended on the food placed on the table.

'Status report,' Colonel Mike Leander commanded imperiously.

'Our diggers have managed to complete the tunnel …' the goblin standing in front of him replied. 'Sir,' the sneer on its face was barely visible.

'Good. What of the escape tunnels?'

'Sealed,' the sullen goblin replied curtly. 'They won't know until it is too late.'

The colonel turned to his right.

'What is the status of the anti-communications ward?'

'They have been woven in successfully,' his subordinate replied. She affixed a superior look on her face as she continued. 'Not that they will be even willing to ask for help from outside in the first place.'

Grunting, the leader brought up a pair of Omnioculars to his hard face. The city beneath him slumbered, its denizens having all retired for the night, blissfully unaware of their presence. Zooming in, he focused on two important buildings. One, a squat square structure, and the other an ostentatious palace located at the heart of the city.

Lowering the Omnioculars, he turned to the goblin. 'I hope your people have managed to negate the wards.'

The goblin shot him a look of deep loathing. 'Yes.'

Smirking, the colonel nodded to his group. Seeing his signal, the team Disapparated simultaneously, reappearing silently in a large circular room. From the plans they had studied, they knew that it was one of the old abandoned watchtowers situated at the north of the city. He tapped the device embedded into his ear. 'Team one is ready.'

Five of the ten soldiers behind him got into position bearing metallic staves. The other half of the team started attaching slim tubes made of the same metal to their wands after casting sight enhancing charms on themselves.

Leander brought up his Omnioculars again. To his right and left, he could make out similar teams crouching into position in the east and west towers.

'Team two in position.' the statement came loud and clear in his ear.

'Team three has command of the west tower.'

'Team four ready in the south tower.'

'Ground teams are ready.'

A slow smile of anticipation started to form on Leander's face.

Zom Giantscum was roused violently from a restful slumber by the sound of multiple explosions.

Cursing, he leapt from his bed, and crossed the large bedroom to look out of the palace window.

He took in a deep breath at the sight that met his eyes. Chaos reigned the streets as large pulses of light impacted the barracks. The building in question didn't last for long as it slowly toppled, throwing up clouds of dust as it crushed everything underneath it, severely damaging the building across it.

Cursing loudly in his native language, he called for his guards. Hastily donning a chest plate and snatching a wicked battle-axe, the goblin chief headed towards the front doors, shortly joined by his many sons, wives, and daughters.

Each of the goblins was armed to the teeth, ready to face the scum who had suddenly and cowardly laid siege to their city.

With a war cry, they surged out of the palace.

It couldn't have been a moment sooner, as a couple of pulses of light impacted with the palace itself, destroying the upper floors. Clearly the attackers had found their next targets. And they hadn't wasted their time.

Giantscum cursed. Their city was supposed to be safe! Nestled deep underground, far below the bank, it was only accessible through a route only the goblins knew about. Anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards nullified those modes of travel, making it impossible for wizards to get to their city either way.

The goblins had full faith in their security measures. No wizard had stepped foot into the city ever since its conception. Added to the fact that they managed wizard gold, it was taken for granted that they would not have to worry about any incursions from those damn magic wielding humans.

So how had these wizards managed to get past the bank's security without being noticed, successfully navigate the labyrinth of passages filled with dead ends, traps and many other nasty surprises, fool the goblin crafted wards (which were a closely guarded secret even within the goblin community) and get in, and that too so far that nobody noticed them taking command of their old watchtowers? Had they managed to take the bank too? And why were they attacking? So far, there was no indication that relations were going sour. In fact, Giantscum would go so far as to say that wizard – goblin relations were as high as they could get. Well, other than the fact that they were planning on another goblin revolt soon. It had been too long since the last revolt, after all.

Thus they had opted not to install any additional security measures and defences. What few watchtowers that had been installed long ago had been abandoned as the money used for their upkeep was diverted to other pursuits. Additionally, funding towards their army had been cut down as the goblin army had long since taken policing duties. After all, someone had to keep law and order.

However, what they did have was quite formidable, even if they were critically compromised, having borne the brunt of the initial barrage of spells.

Yelling, goblin archers started firing arrows, focusing their attention towards the north tower from where the spell fire was coming from, their warriors surging forward, waving their various weapons.

Leander watched as the arrows impacted against the shield he had set up. Inwardly he cursed himself for not being quick enough to stop all the arrows. Calling upon his decades of experience in battle, the colonel did not let the sight of the injured soldier faze him. Instead he rallied his men, bringing their minds back into the task at hand.

'Get to work men! You can all watch Private Buchannan later. The man only has a flesh wound, for Merlin's sake! Snipers, take position, NOW!'

At his command, the soldiers switched positions with the sharpshooters who brought their modified wands to bear. Designed by the Department of Mysteries, the attachments these soldiers carried allowed them to curse individuals from a great distance. With the addition of Mithril at the tip of the accessory, the power accuracy and range was doubled. This only made it easier for them to apply their training from their Hit Wizard days.

'Teams two, three and four, open fire,' the colonel ordered. 'Concentrate on the castle.' Turning around, he barked. 'And someone get Buchannan seen to before he bleeds out. Remember your training, men. Most of you have been Aurors. Use your bloody training!'

Suddenly, jets of green light started streaking in from the east and west towers, catching the surprised defenders flatfooted. The bombardment of the palace that had initially stopped the moment the archers had started to return fire, doubled, killing many more that were housed within.

Before they could even register this new threat, the defending goblins were besieged once again as armoured goblins suddenly appeared and started hacking at their own brethren. These were soon joined by wizards and witches who faded into view, no doubt cancelling disillusionment charms.

To add to the confusion, the southern tower also started to open fire. Buildings started toppling, unable to put up with the destructive magic of such unseen levels of power.

Overwhelmed, the defenders managed to hold up for a few scant minutes before they were overrun.

Soon, Zom Giantscum and the remnants of his family were clapped in chains, unable to process what had happened.

The sight of their own brothers and sisters fighting alongside the wizards told the goblin chief plenty about how the humans had managed to breach their city and lay siege to it.

They were betrayed.

'Ah, you must be the boss,' a particularly arrogant human, clearly the leader of the operation, said as he swaggered up to the goblin. He extracted a piece of parchment. 'Zom Giantscum …' he raised an eyebrow.

'It's Giantscum, you filthy human!' one of the goblin chief's sons spat. 'And you are not even worthy of uttering my father's name!'

The human only snorted. Looking at Giantscum, he sneered. 'Surprised? Well, this is what happens when you defy our King.' he gestured towards the goblins helping him. 'They, at least, understand who they owe their allegiance to. They were the ones who were kind enough to lead us here. They also took care of the wards surrounding your palace and your barracks, making you easy pickings.' With another smirk, the man continued. 'Anyway, his majesty sends his regards. He also wishes to tell you not to worry; your gold will be taken care of.' With a beatific smile he turned to his men. 'Kill them all. Leave Giantscum' he sneered. 'And that whelp there for the very last. We take the bank now!'

Helplessly, Giantscum watched as his people were killed one after another. A slight movement to his left alerted him to the presence of one of the attackers. The old goblin's eyes widened. He recognised the goblin. He was part of the British contingent that had come over a few months earlier on a diplomacy mission. The old goblin could only whisper, 'Why?'

'It's only business,' the guard replied with a look of deep discomfort in his eyes. 'Our hands are tied. It's either us, or you. I hope you understand.'

The defeated goblin could only nod as he gazed at the ground. He did not notice his guard disappear from his side, along with the rest of the attackers. He ignored the rising heat and the screams as the Fiendfyre swiftly obliterated everything. Slowly, but steadily surrounding him. Closing his eyes, he hoped that his kind would have their vengeance.

The King of Spain gazed into the distance, contemplating events.

The assassination attempt had failed.

His eyes travelled to the letter he held loosely in his hand.

The wording was quite roundabout and circumspect, a masterpiece of bureaucratic language that would have any official go starry eyed.

But the implications were clear. His distant "cousin", of sorts, in Britain was a wizard.

The failure of his ordered assassination only proved that fact. No doubt some sorcery was used to ensure the King of England's survival. After all, the shooter was the best in her class.

Not only that, but his agents had uncovered an interesting report.

While the official story was that King Henry IX was brought critically injured to the nearest hospital, there was an unfinished report. And that report had declared the king dead on arrival.

Unfortunately, the doctor's signature was only half completed, and the entire hospital staff couldn't recall anything about any such report, meaning that the document was less than useless. Not that it would be able to prove anything anyway. The king's continued existence only laid credence to the fact that he was still alive.

But it confirmed his interpretation of the words contained in the document he held in his hand.

The implications were not good...

He could only thank God that the assassination had rendered the king crippled.

Some might say it was enough, but he knew otherwise. He did not know what the previous queen was thinking by naming the wizard a successor. She knew that with a magical wearing the crown, the tenuous grip they held over the wizarding world would be lost.

And that would be very bad indeed. Especially considering that it wasn't a small kingdom, like those in India.

The king was of no doubt that the world would survive any wizard uprising. The advances they had made over the past few decades ensured that. They were capable of mass destruction, something that those freaks couldn't do. However, the world was already fraught with violence and war. It did not need another.

There was only one way to ensure peace. The wizard king must be eliminated. Furthermore, his entire line must be eradicated to ensure that there would be no more successors to the English throne. And then, they would find a normal successor, perhaps one of the Jacobite pretenders. If not … well, he already had control over France, why not Britain as well?

He could see it now … being called the King of Spain and England.

The dreams of his ancestor, when he had launched that ill-fated attack on Britain and Queen Elizabeth I would be realised.

But he would need to prepare. And to do that, he would need more information on this wizard king.

Coming to a decision, the monarch reached for his phone. If he had interpreted the first message this mysterious unknown source had sent him correctly, then the next piece of information from his other known and trusted source was in all likelihood true.

Hermione Granger-Weasley sighed as she looked at the fast food restaurant in front of her.

Entering, she got in line at the till near the far wall on her left.

'I'd like a happy meal please,' she said in a bored monotone. 'With extra happy in it,' the sigh as she said the last bit was inaudible.

The cashier gave a patently fake laugh as he told her to take a token.

Taking the piece of paper, Hermione went to the women's loo. In the last stall, she threw the token into the toilet.

Immediately, the wall in front of her morphed into a large fireplace, green flames dancing in the grate thanks to the ticket which was actually made of a solidified version of Floo powder.

Not bothering to utter a destination, Hermione stepped into the grate. There was only one destination this particular fireplace would take her after all.

The atrium of the Northern Ministry of Magic Centre of the Magical Federation of Northern America, located in Washington D.C. was quite different from the atrium of the British Ministry of Magic. While the building in London was done up in dark wooden panelling, with a peacock blue ceiling, this room comprised of glistening black stone. There were no decorative symbols dancing around the sky blue ceiling, which, instead, contained a large logo of the Ministry.

Joining the stream of Ministry workers, Hermione headed towards the security checkpoint. Passing by the large fountain, Hermione carelessly threw in ten Knuts as was her habit on Mondays. She barely spared a second glance at the sculpture placed in the middle. Recently installed, the centrepiece of the fountain was a modern sculpture was made entirely of metal. Comprising of curves and levitating pieces that floated in a random pattern as they caught and released water, it was the one good thing about the atrium in her opinion.

Hermione couldn't help but feel as if the place was cold. The warmth that was there in the British Ministry of Magic building was missing here. Perhaps it was the foreignness of the place.

'Good morning, Emma!'

Hermione reflexively smiled at the woman next to her. It had taken some time, but she was now used to being called by her alias, Emma Ratcliffe.

Ever since things had gone pear shaped in Britain, she and Ron had been on the run, sticking close to the wilderness and living off the land. They could not afford to be near civilisation of any kind, seeing as Harry had notified the Muggle government (which was technically his government now) about their fugitive status.

Initially, things had been rather rocky between the couple. Ron had taken the loss of their daughter especially hard. He blamed himself for leaving Rose behind. As far as he was concerned, no halfway decent father would do such a thing.

Hermione had spent the first few days on the run hating her husband, blaming him for their daughter probably being in the custody of some snobby Dark Pureblood supremacist family courtesy of Harry taking vengeance on them. But that anger soon fizzled out. She was intelligent enough to understand her part in it. Had she refused to keep Harry's children, perhaps they wouldn't have been in this mess.

It had taken nearly two months and a close call in Dorset with the Muggle authorities for her to finally ask Ron for forgiveness.

The couple had then made up, their bond becoming stronger than ever.

It was at that point that they realised that they would not survive for long in Britain. They would be much better off in another country.

They sold what little they had, coupled that with the money Ron had saved to smuggle themselves to America by boat.

With magic, it was easy to change their looks and forge a pair of Muggle identities and get enough money to settle down in the Muggle world as Dan and Emma Ratcliffe, a married Australian couple. It took some adjusting for Hermione (and a lot for Ron) but they had little choice as they did not have the resources to forge magical identities.

And then came that fateful day…

Hermione remembered that day as if it was yesterday. She had come home from the bookshop (where she was working as a teller) as was routine for her. Making a beeline towards the fridge, she extracted a plate of lasagne her husband had made. Heating it, she settled down in front of the television. Today was a Wednesday, meaning that Ron would be coming home late from the restaurant where he worked as a sous-chef.

It never failed to amuse her that Ron, the wizard raised Pureblood, had managed to find a good job and life in the Muggle world much easier than she, who was Muggleborn, ever could. His talent in cooking had got him noticed by a chef who was friends with a pretty well-known chef who, in turn, had offered him an apprenticeship. Her ginger husband had risen swiftly from first level cook in about a year to being second-in-command of a prestigious restaurant in New York. It was true that he couldn't, for the life of him, pronounce the names of half the Muggle inventions correctly, but he managed to get by. His colleagues just thought he was quirky.

At any rate, it was thanks to Ron's job that they could afford such a nice house. They could not subsist on duplicated money forever. From her experience at her old job, Hermione knew that witches and wizards used this method to pad their bank balance. Those who got caught (and they all got caught eventually) were either stupid enough to try and exchange the counterfeit money for Galleons (and they were lucky if they managed to get convicted by the Ministry, as the goblins took a very dim view at attempts to cheat them) or became so greedy, that the Muggles started to notice.

Hermione remembered retiring early that night as soon as she was done eating and cleaning up.

She was fast asleep when Ron came in at around two in the morning.

They woke up to find a creepy looking man sitting in their bedroom, staring at them unblinkingly.

Hermione gave a shriek when she saw the man. His lips appeared to be almost blood-red against his pale skin. Light hazel eyes shone with a glint of … something that was quite unsettling.

His face looked like it had been hit repeatedly by a shovel.

Woken up by the noise she made, Ron swore, 'Bloody hell! Have you been watching us sleeping all this time?'

Shovel-Face just grinned. 'Dan and Emma Ratcliffe … or is it Ron and Hermione Weasley? It is good to make your acquaintance. Clean up and join us downstairs, if you please.'

So saying, he got up and headed out of the room, not bothering to look at the shocked couple. A flick of his wand as he crossed the threshold of the door caused his chair to vanish, fully confirming that he was a wizard.

'Oh and,' he said without turning around. 'I suggest you don't even think of running. We have the place surrounded.'

Ron and Hermione dressed hurriedly. By mutual unspoken consent, they removed their wands from the lock-box in their wardrobes. Despite what Shovel-Face said, if things went pear shaped, they would go down fighting, even if it had been years since they had used magic. They had heard, through the grapevine, what had happened to Percy. There was no way they were going to suffer the same fate.

In their living room, they saw the intruder sitting on an armchair, right between their sofa and their television. A woman stood behind him, looking like she was the muscle of this little duo despite her slim build.

The woman was average looking. She had long straight black hair, unremarkable features and was of middling height. However, her eyes were her most defining feature. Looking at them, Hermione couldn't help but be even more unnerved. The vacant expression on her face and in her eyes gave the impression that she had been Kissed. Some might find it intimidating, but Hermione just thought she looked stupid.

The fugitive couple would find out later that they had both decided to call her "Dead-Eyes" in their minds.

'As far as we know,' Amanda Rutgers, the Minister of the Magical Federation of Northern America said. 'Britain has been quiet on the international front. Of course,' she said ruefully. 'That information is as of late two thousand and thirteen. A few months before the assassination attempt on the King of England.'

'Two thousand and thirteen?' the Spanish king said in a tone of light incredulity. He slowly turned away from the window he was looking through to rest his gaze on the Minister. 'And why is that?'

Rutgers' face flushed. 'That would be because of my predecessor, sir.' She said wearily. 'He has left a big mess ever since his impeachment. How that idiot got the office is beyond me.'

'What happened?' The lightly accented voice of the King of Spain cut across the room.

'The International Confederation basically had enough of him and our Mugwump.' The Minister replied. 'They chucked us out. That was what led to his impeachment. There was only so much that his charisma and his father's name can do to cover for that brand of idiocy. We have since reapplied. But getting it approved is slow going.'

The monarch huffed in amusement. 'The I.C.W. is very much like the U.N., slow to come to a decision either way.' Striding to the large chair that was normally used by the Spanish ambassador, he sat down regally. 'In any case, our other colonies concur with your observation.' Frowning, he looked into the distance. 'There is some game he is playing. I wonder what it is…'

'Perhaps the assassination cowed him?' The Minister said tentatively.

'I hear that you were once his closest of friends,' the monarch suddenly said to Hermione and Ron, whom he had been ignoring until this moment. In fact, he had barely glanced their way ever since they had been escorted in, unarmed, by Shovel-Face, Dead-Eyes and their team. 'What can you tell me of him? If we are to be successful in future attempts, we need to know everything.'

The monarch was quite convinced that they would talk. After all, he had instructed the retrieval team to ensure their cooperation en route. Things were far more efficient that way.

'Wait, what?' Ron said slowly. 'You mean to tell me that you were behind the assassination attempt?' he had seen the news on the telly, and till now did not know what to think about his friend's fate. To be unable to walk … the thought still made him shudder.

The monarch looked to the side for a moment. 'Yes,' he said finally, without any regret in his voice as he shifted his gaze back at the couple. 'He represented a problem. He was, and still is now, risking the exposure of magic to the wider world. Something that you people have been trying to keep secret for a long time, I might add.'

Hermione thought about the fact for a long time. For a moment she thought of telling them all to go to hell. There was no way they were going to betray Harry. Not like this. Not anymore.

Then she thought about their situation. She knew for a fact that the people in this room had them both by the balls. That fact had been quite exhaustively been explained to them by Shovel-Face and Dead-Eyes. Should they not cooperate, it would be easy for the Americans to tell the British about finding them. Then it would back to Britain. Where they would face Harry, and suffer till they died.

She then thought about her parents, her mother-in-law, Percy, and finally, her daughter. She had lost all of them thanks to Harry.

One look at her husband made her decision for her.

'Fine,' she finally said. 'What do you need to know?'

And that lead to where Hermione was now, in the Ministry building.

The fugitive grimaced internally. It turned out that the Americans knew of their existence for a long time now. The only reason they had sent Shovel-Face and Dead-Eyes (or, as they called themselves, Woody and Rosie – though they would always be known as Shovel-Face and Dead-Eyes to the couple) was because they had found a use for them.

It turned out that Harry hadn't exactly been idle since they had left Britain. In the Muggle world, Britain was slowly becoming stronger. While it wasn't anything to generate shocking headlines, those who kept an eye out for such things could see some rather strange anomalies.

For one, the country had inexplicably all but stopped importing.

This in itself would not be puzzling if it weren't for the fact that till recently, Britain was one of the top importers in the world. Aside from an initial dip in the strength of the Pound, the country had not suffered much. In fact, if anything, the economy was actually growing stronger.

It could mean only one thing: magic was involved.

At first, the Magical Federation of Northern America wasn't even aware of the involvement of magic. They did not truly believe the rumours floating around that the incumbent to the English throne was magical. Also, all they actually knew was that Britain had stopped importing from the United States of America, their biggest source. For all they knew, the island country could have turned to other sources.

That was until the King of Spain had received an anonymous letter.

Hermione had done her research and was fully aware of the fact that Muggles essentially controlled the various ministries of magic. She personally did not mind the arrangement. There was a need for checks and balances, a limiting factor. Otherwise, the wizarding world would have trampled over the Muggle population long ago using their command over the arcane force. The current administration agreed with those views wholeheartedly.

'So what's up?'

Hermione was wrenched out of her thoughts at this question. She looked at the woman standing in front of her. It was the same person who had initially greeted her. Evidently she had followed Hermione. It took a moment for her to match the face with a name.

'Oh, I'm fine, Marlene.' Hermione said with a smile. Inwardly she groaned. Marlene was far too cheerful and chatty on a normal day. Looking a lot like a taller version of Molly Weasley, only with mousy brown hair and a nasal voice, she was the only person whom Hermione knew in the Ministry building aside from the people she worked with in the American Department of Mysteries. And it wasn't because Hermione had made sure to get to know the woman.

Hermione let the woman talk, listening with half an ear, completely uninterested in her tales. What did she care if the goblins had delayed the opening of their bank because of some "management issues"? She had no gold in Gringotts.

Instead, Hermione thought back to the first time she had met the American minister of magic along with the King of Spain.

They had discussed everything. Right from the first time they had met Harry to the last time they had seen each other. She had spoken about the adventures they had faced together at school, the influence Voldemort had on their lives all those years ago. Ron told them everything about the time Harry had spent at the Burrow with the Weasleys.

'This Voldemort person,' the Spanish King said thoughtfully as he stroked his fashionably trimmed beard. 'He seems to be significant.'

He was met with three incredulous looks that, no matter how brief, annoyed him, though he did not show it.

'Well,' the minister was the first to recover. 'Everyone in the magical world knows the story about Harry Potter and the dark lord Voldemort. More about the former than the latter, though.'

What followed that was a brief explanation about the Boy Who Lived and Voldemort.

'So let me get this straight.' The King finally said. 'This dark lord tries to use a curse that is completely lethal, on an infant, only for it to be reflected back to him, by said infant, something that has never been heard of. Then he is considered dead for about a decade and then he suddenly comes back to life. How was he killed?'

'Well, Professor Dumbledore had discovered that he had made Horcruxes, and he and Harry went and destroyed them –'

'I am sorry, but what are these … "Whore-cruxes"' The King of Spain cut Hermione off, sending a mildly inquisitive glance as he uttered the unfamiliar term.

Ron couldn't help himself and let out a snort. Sobering up quickly at the attention he had garnered from everyone in the room, he cleared his throat. 'Sorry,' he said apologetically, trying not to squirm at the cool look being sent his way by the monarch. 'But it's "Horcruxes". What your majesty just said comes across as a bit … erm, inappropriate. Anyway, a Horcrux is basically an object, or a vessel if you will, containing a portion of a person's soul. As long as a Horcrux exists, the person who created it will not die because a part of him will still be safe and tethered to this world.'

'We actually have a soul …?' the King said in a mystified voice. Snapping out of his trance, he continued, his tone darkening. 'And you wizards rend them apart?' the disgust was apparent.

Hermione took it from there. 'Not everybody. The creation of a Horcrux, as you rightly guessed, is a vile thing. The subject itself is so vile that even most conventional Dark Wizards and Witches who are pretty evil themselves have reservations about going that far. Few of the darkest of Dark Arts books even mention them. And trust me when I say this that those books contain some pretty gruesome curses and rituals.' She shuddered. 'Apparently, to create such a container, a person must commit the most heinous of evils; murder. This apparently creates a tear in the soul that generally heals over time. However, a wizard or witch wanting to create a Horcrux uses this to their advantage and rips a portion of their soul out from their body and places it in a container.' She took a deep shuddering breath.

'And Voldemort created three.'

The disgust on the king's face was closely mirrored by the expression on the minister's face.

'So you said that the current King of England destroyed these … objects.' The Minister said, breaking the ensuing silence.

'Yes,' Hermione replied. 'Then Harry somehow managed to sneak into Voldemort's base of operations. I believe he had the help of a schoolmate, Draco Malfoy.' Her eye twitched at the mention of that name. 'And while the group of various witches and wizards accompanying him subdued Voldemort's Death Eaters, Harry himself finished Voldemort.'

'I see,' the King of Spain replied. 'So when exactly did the three of you go from best friends to actively kidnapping his children?'

There was a moment's silence.

'I have no idea,' Hermione replied eventually. 'All I know is that we started to … drift apart in our seventh year. It was as if the whole fight with Voldemort over the summer changed him. Harry got himself a bunch of new friends, joined our Wizengamot where he swiftly rose in rank thanks to his celebrity status and victory and suddenly, I find that he has instituted a law that is biased against Muggles.' Seeing that she had caught their attention, Hermione briefly explained the Harry Potter Magical Child Protection Act.

'This is clearly going to take some time.' The King said musingly. Looking at the Minister of Magic, he said commandingly. 'I suggest you and the Weasleys here have another few meetings. Set up a team to analyse the data. I want the whole thing to be top secret. That means nobody, other than those whom you trust, is to know. I expect regular reports.'

'Oh this is my stop,' Marlene said with a radiant smile. 'See you later, Emma!'

Hermione smiled back mechanically. As the lift doors closed, she ruminated on the past few weeks.

Ron had swiftly bowed out of the whole thing. He contended that he had told them all that he knew about Harry, and as such, wouldn't be able to contribute any more. With the minister's assent, the man had returned to his Muggle job, with the promise that he would not expose the secret of magic unless in dire circumstances.

He, like his wife, had to sign a bevy of magically binding non-disclosure agreements as well as swear allegiance to the King of Spain, making them his subjects and citizens of the Magical Federation of Northern America. This also had the benefit of protecting them from Harry's wrath to an extent.

Glad to be able to finally work in more familiar surroundings, Hermione took to her new job with enthusiasm. Her team was tasked with the job of fully understanding King Henry IX of Britain.

She was, however, careful not to let it run her life, making sure to spend more time with her husband whenever he was free. The couple had never been closer, and with the news that Hermione planned to break to Ron about her pregnancy, she anticipated more closeness.

Yes, today would be a day of celebration and triumph.

Not only was she pregnant, but Hermione was certain that today would mark a step forward in bringing the Tyrant of Britain (as she had started calling Harry in her mind) down.

It hadn't taken the team long to determine that there was one person who could shed more light on the persona of the King of England and the possible cause of his sudden change in attitude from the champion of Muggles and Muggleborn to an elitist Mugglephobic tyrant.

That person was Dumbledore.

The problem was that Professor Dumbledore was long dead. However, thanks to his many accomplishments and positions that had bought him worldwide fame, it stood to reason that there would be a portrait of the great man lying around somewhere in the country.

Eventually, three portraits were found. Out of them, the one in the Salem Witches' Academy and in The Bishop Hospital of Magical Maladies were a write off (the former being the victim of a nasty jinx gone bad, and the latter having been puked upon by a patient who had a bad reaction to Acid Drops). That left the last one, found in a storeroom of the Ipswich School of Wizardry.

Having been placed in storage a year before Albus Dumbledore had died, the portrait had been subsequently forgotten about. Thus, while in a relatively pristine (if dusty) condition, the portrait was still a victim of neglect, with the subject within having gone static thanks to the lack of active magic around it having faded. However, the situation wasn't totally hopeless. All it needed was some restoration, and it would be functional once again.

However, restoring a magical portrait was tricky business. Not only did they have to restore the original colour, but also rejuvenate the magic that was originally put into it. Ideally, the person responsible for the latter was called for such a task.

As Dumbledore was the person who had injected the portrait with his magic and knowledge, the ideal situation wasn't feasible. Instead, the team had to carefully and slowly strengthen the magic in the portrait.

This basically involved placing the portrait in a highly magical area and talking to it or in its presence. Hermione was thankful, though, that they had found a trustworthy expert in the field of magical portraits. He had managed to dramatically shorten the process by applying a carefully calculated amount of magic on the portrait. It would remove two months from the memory of the portrait, but that was fine. Hopefully, the portrait had connected with its duplicates in Britain, making the loss minimal.

'He's ready,' James Wentworth, one of her colleagues said excitedly.

Hermione responded with an enthusiastic smile of her own.

All but running towards the back of the room, she looked at the portrait and said, in a voice laced with trepidation. 'Professor?'

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore who was frozen till now sat up, blinked and looked around. 'Do I know you?' he asked when he laid eyes on her,

'It's me,' Hermione said as she removed the necklace that she wore, removing the glamour charms at the same time. She wasn't concerned about surprising her team. They all knew about her, after all.

'Ms Granger?' the portrait of Dumbledore said with delighted surprise. 'My, you have grown! How long has it been since you passed school.'

Hermione did the maths in her head. 'It will be a full ten years next year.' She blinked twice. It just hit her how long it had been.

'A whole decade,' the portrait said thoughtfully. 'That is quite some time. Do tell me, how are you? What have you been up to all these years? What of your two friends?' in a lower and more concerned voice, he asked. 'What of Lord Voldemort?'

'What do you last remember, professor?' Hermione asked quietly.

'The last I recall,' the portrait said as he tented his fingers under his chin. 'It was the year two thousand and four, after the winter holidays of your sixth year. It was a full month before the O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s started.' He looked at her expectantly, clearly expecting her to fill in the gap between the past and the present.

'Can't you access your other portraits in Hogwarts and the Ministry?' Hermione asked curiously. 'Surely, you will be able to get the relevant information there.'

'Alas,' Dumbledore said regretfully. 'I seem unable to access my duplicates. I can sense them, but something is preventing me from going all the way, as the expression goes.'

Hermione rubbed her forehead. 'Naturally, it couldn't be that easy.' Sighing, she summoned a chair, asked James for some tea, and then started the task of filling the portrait in.

Hermione was careful to exclude certain details. For one, the very thought of the late headmaster knowing about her kidnapping anyone's children (even if it was Harry's) children filled her with dread and shame. As it stood, she couldn't bear to think about the other teachers at her school knowing about it.

'Extraordinary,' the portrait murmured. 'I never knew that Lily, and subsequently her son, were related to the royal family.' He frowned. 'There are some problems with your story, however. For one, I cannot reconcile the boy I knew as a student in school with the man you painted right now. It seems to be a drastic change in character. I also cannot believe that he would run the two of you out of the country for no discernible reason whatsoever.'

'That was what we were hoping you could tell us.' Hermione said. 'We were hoping to shed some light around the events surrounding your death, Voldemort's defeat, the destruction of his three Horcruxes and finally, what changes you noticed.'

The portrait smiled wanly. 'Well, Ms Granger, or is it Mrs Weasley? Anyway, I am sorry to disappoint you. I do not know the exact details behind Voldemort's demise, I do not know what transpired during my death, and I do not know what Harry did in the years between then and now.' He paused for a long moment. 'So, allow me to tell you a few things that I do know.'

The portrait paused for a few moments.

'I know that I had suspected Draco Malfoy of being given the task of assassinating me. I also know that I was already dying thanks to a Dark curse that I was careless enough to trigger, and that I knew of that fact since before you had started your sixth year. Furthermore, I also knew that I had tasked Severus Snape to give me a more dignified end, if you get my drift.'

'You – you mean, you wanted Snape to kill you?' Hermione gasped, completely taken aback.

'You could say that.' The portrait replied succinctly. 'Then again, I was already dying then. Severus was only performing euthanasia.'

Running a hand through his beard, Dumbledore continued. 'And most importantly, Ms Granger, I can call you that, right, because "Mrs Weasley" doesn't seem right for me. Anyway, most importantly, I knew that Voldemort had not made three Horcruxes. He had made seven.'

'S – Seven?' Hermione said disbelievingly. 'But – but Harry said three.'

'Yes,' Dumbledore replied. 'And that is what worries me.' He stared off, lost in thought.

Sighing heavily, the portrait continued. 'Based on what I know so far, and I hope you understand that this information may or may not be accurate because of the probable obsoleteness of the facts, I have a guess as to what possibly could have changed Harry.'

'At the end of your second year, I had hypothesised that Voldemort had survived because of the creation of a Horcrux. After years of research, and tracking down dead ends, not to mention his rebirth, I came to the conclusion that Voldemort had created more. Some more research later gave me seven as the number.' The portrait sighed. 'And here is the critical bit. I suspected then, and had the fact confirmed that Harry's scar carried a piece of Voldemort. Thanks to the many Horcruxes he had made, his soul was unstable and split once more, the fragment having latched onto the only living thing present.

'It is my belief that this soul fragment has either influenced or outright possessed Harry.'

'So …' Hermione said slowly. 'That isn't really Harry, but Voldemort?'

'It would seem so,' the portrait said slowly. 'It does nicely explain how he, a Hogwarts student, managed to duel and defeat a much more experienced wizard. Initially, I thought that Flamel had managed to get his hooks into the boy, but then you also mentioned that Harry had played Flamel like a fiddle. That is a trait that I would associate with Tom Riddle. Also, there is the whole policy that he has been pushing. It might be a bit different, but it is very similar to what Tom Riddle would do. If I know Tom well, and I would like to think that I do, then he would go for a radical shift in such conditions. He has no need to build up power since he already has it. No, all he needs to do is use his popularity and charisma now. At the same time, he wouldn't want the world to even suspect that Voldemort isn't dead yet.'

Hermione had nothing to say in reply.

And that is 43. I know, it is a long time. But hey, RL's a bitch.

This chapter contains my first battle scene. I hope you enjoyed it.

I also base the descriptions of the American Ministry of Magic on the movie version of the Ministry of Magic.

Now, remember a few things:

1. Dumbledore's portrait last memory was well before he realised that Harry is not a Horcrux.

2. I have set everything forward by seven years. I mentioned that fact in the first chapter, so there!

If anyone wants to know who I was thinking of when I wrote down the descriptions of Shovel-Face and Dead-Eyes, then watch this video:

www. youtube. com (/) watch?v=yvo5_Zi-Yxs&list=SP86F4D497FD3CACCE (remove brackets and spaces)

44. The Beginning of the End

Edmund Harry Potter-Black (or, as the rest of the world knew him, "Prince Edmund") watched his father from his perch on top of a high stool, absently swinging his legs. His right hand absently fiddled with his left sleeve as he tried to articulate the question he badly wanted to ask.

'What's on your mind, mate?' Harry asked lightly tapping a finger on the boy's head.

Startled, his eldest son looked up, his eyes (which were green at the moment) losing their far-off gaze. 'Nothing much,' he mumbled, ducking his head and switching his attention to the other sleeve.

Looking back up, the boy flushed when he caught his father's eyes.

Harry only raised an eyebrow, knowing that the silent gesture would be more effective than spoken word.

'Why –' Edmund cleared his throat. 'Why are you … you know …?' he waved his hands around himself as if to make a point.

'Why am I getting married to two more women?' Harry asked bemusedly.

The boy only nodded in reply.

Harry looked at Edmund for a moment, wondering what exactly he should tell the boy. 'Well,' he said finally. 'The reason is simple. And complex all the same: politics.'

'Politics?' James' voice piped up from across the large room. 'How so, dad?'

Harry cast an amused glance at the sprawled ten year old. Even though his younger son was contentedly playing with his toys (and still was, despite asking the question) the boy clearly was keeping his ears open. That was quite an interesting quirk. A quirk that Harry hoped was developed further. A person perceived by others to be generally oblivious to his surroundings tends to get more information quickly.

'What do you know of the two women that I am marrying?' Harry asked, directing his question to both of his sons. It would be a good idea to see how much they had absorbed from all the lessons.

'Well, Gabrielle is the daughter of the new French Minister of Magic,' James said, rolling over on his back and sitting up to give his father his full attention. Crossing his legs, he absently tapped his chin with the head of the action figure he was playing with.

'Yes,' Harry replied. 'But that doesn't matter, does it?' He decided to ignore the indignant face of the animated Harry Potter figure tightly grasped in his son's hand. That toy was a result of a prank gift courtesy of Fred and George and was a part of the "Triwizard Set" including the equally animated figures of Cedric Diggory, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and the four dragons the champions had faced in the first task.

At least the champions' share from sales of the toys (by mutual consent between the three of them and Mr and Mrs Diggory) was being donated to charity. Though, the dragon toys did not do justice to the original model sitting in Harry's study next to the Swedish Short-Snout the Diggorys had been kind enough to give him behind wards to prevent two certain moppets from getting their little hands on it.

'No,' Edmund responded this time. 'After all, you are now recognised as the King of magical France, and unofficially, the Emperor of the magical empire. Also, you did sort of make him the Minister.'

'Indeed,' Harry said with a nod. 'So what other political reasons are there?' Part of his mind was still on the time when the Diggorys had given him that Swedish Short-Snout of Cedric's. It had been seven years ago, just after the birth of their second son. Amos Diggory had told him that he and his wife had finally moved on. For that reason, they felt it would be best to part with most of their deceased son's possessions. While the clothes and other odds and ends were given away or sold, the couple felt that Harry should have the dragon.

Personally, Harry did not think that they had truly moved on. After all, they had named their now seven year old son "Cedric". Though, he did know that they had the habit of calling the boy "Ricky" instead.

Mentally shaking himself, Harry decided to leave the Diggorys and their problems behind and instead focus on his own progeny. He smiled at his still silent sons. 'Here's a hint: what else can you tell me about the three Delacour women?'

The room was filled with thoughtful silence.

'Well, they are veela.' Edmund finally said. 'At least Mrs Delacour is. Fleur and Gabrielle are half veela.'

'Yes,' Harry said approvingly. 'More importantly, Appoline Delacour is also the daughter of Hans Mueller, the leader of the veela community.

'Now the veela are a proud race, and while small in number, quite powerful. They also do not trust easily. However at the same time, they easily trust family. This is mainly the reason why Appoline ended up marrying into the Delacour family. And so far, they aren't wrong. After all, Jean-Sebastian did quite a lot to improve things for his wife's and daughters' people.'

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

'Your majesty,' said an older wizard, opening the door after being bid to enter. 'It is ready.'

'Five minutes, Jacques,' Harry said after a pause.

The man bowed at the neck and backed out, closing the door.

'I know why you have to marry Ginny!' James piped up. 'It's because she is Fred and George's sister, right?'

Harry chuckled softly. 'No, not really, it has more to do with her being really close to Gabrielle. Gabrielle has, ah, requested that she be included too.'

'Oh,' James said with a frown, trying to work it out.

'Don't worry,' Harry said, ruffling the boy's hair. 'I don't get it either.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Now boys, I suggest you get ready. Edmund, lose the blue hair. And while you're at it, lose the pout, this is a formal occasion, and you know that. You can change it back later. But till then, keep it black, brown, red or blond. The same goes for your eyes: regular colours only. I don't want … whatever weird colour you have thought of. James, put away your toys. It's time.'

Harry had just managed to straighten James' robes when Jacques entered the room, followed by a mini-army bearing enough jewellery to pay off a small country's sovereign debt.

Once Harry had put on the various collars and medals representing both Britain and France, he lifted the crown and placed it onto his head, reflecting that the headpiece was the simplest thing he was currently wearing.

In a few short moments, he was waiting for his future two wives to arrive. He glanced at his left, to Daphne, whose own crown glinted in the sunlight that bathed Fairy's Glen, highlighting the majesty of the Scottish countryside.

He was aware that she had pushed for this marriage to happen well before he was crowned King. At times he did not know if she had known of his plans, and he had no desire of finding out. But what he did know was that she had every intention of being the dominant wife in this little harem that was going to be formed. The fact that she was standing here, next to him and in front of his sons made her intentions very clear. That is, if the bejewelled crown on her head wasn't clear enough of a message. Conveniently, the crowns of her sister wives were much simpler in nature.

Suddenly it occurred to him that the ostentatious robes he now wore (which he knew were made from Sea Silk, a very rare and very expensive material, even in the magical world) complete with the long train was not something his advisors had thought of by themselves.

Harry quietly chuckled to himself. Ginny and Gabrielle may be strong-willed, but they were no match for Queen Daphne.

'Something the matter, dear?' the object of his thoughts said quietly.

'Oh, nothing at all,' Harry replied lightly. He glanced at Neville and the boys, who were standing directly behind him, with his eyes twinkling in amusement, getting a bemused grin in return from his friend. He had had great fun standing for Neville at his wedding, as Neville had stood for his. Well, both of his weddings.

Worried that his presence would overshadow the bride and groom, Harry had used his powers to make himself and his family unnoticeable to everyone present except for each other and Neville and Susan.

He had repeated the same procedure on Draco and Astoria's wedding too, partly because he really liked the anonymity, and partly because his darling sister-in-law had asked him to do the same in a very saccharine voice that wasn't fooling anyone.

Speaking of which … Harry's eyes sought her out, standing there next to her husband and mother-in-law, engrossed in a very quiet conversation with Draco.

The music brought him out of his reverie.

As he saw his two brides walk down towards him side-by-side, Harry realised that he was not being entirely truthful with his sons and with himself.

Even after all these years, the sight of Ginny was enough to get his blood racing.

Somewhere in the Middle East

The man took a step back and admired his handiwork. The last rune was in place. He had double-checked every single symbol in the array and triple-checked it just to be safe.

It was perfect. At long last, after years of careful infiltration, months spent being unnoticed as he did his work and weeks and weeks of careful carving, his mission was now complete.

Now all he would have to do is rest and wait for his final instructions.

He made his way outside, not noticed or bothered by the workers around him.

Once outside, he made his way to a small alley where donned his cloak, put the hood up and turned on the spot.

Reappearing at the safe house, he only had to wait for a short amount of time for his colleagues to appear, all hooded as he was.

The minute hand of the clock had just touched the number twelve when the door leading to the conference room opened.

Silently, the men and women filed in, taking their places at the large table.

'So, gentlemen, ladies,' the man at the head of the table said without preamble. 'I presume that we are all ready?'

The shadowed face of the leader smiled.

'Then "Thirst" is complete.' He pronounced with relish to nods of approval.

Washington D.C.

'Did you manage to finish it?'

'Y-yes,' the young man stuttered, his voice excited and nervous at the same time. 'I can't believe I managed to do this!' he said in wonder.

The man he was talking to smirked. 'Indeed, it is quite a big step, isn't it?'

'Yes!' the answer came out in a near squeak. 'The world will now be a much safer place!'

'All thanks to you,' the older man finished for him. 'You should be proud of yourself, David.'

The younger man puffed out his chest as he gazed into the distance, no doubt imagining the accolades he would receive.

'Too bad you won't be able to tell anyone about it,'

'Huh?' derailed from his thoughts, the young man looked up to see a stick pointed at him. The green light would be the last thing he would ever see.

'It is done,' nonchalantly standing over the cooling body of the Muggle, the wizard said into a mirror that he fished out of his pocket. 'And I have a bonus that you will like.'

'Excellent, Marcus,' the face in the device replied. 'Pack up and get your people out of there. His Majesty will be pleased.'

Harry looked down at his two children wistfully.

Clad in their Hogwarts robes, Edmund and James looked quite grown up. To Harry, it seemed like it was yesterday when he was changing their nappies. And now suddenly, they were about to step onto the Hogwarts Express, ready to start their first year at Hogwarts.

A glance at his left showed that Daphne also felt the same as he did.

Harry looked up as she swooped down on them, saying very motherly things to their children who looked appropriately uncomfortable as only two eleven year old boys can feel.

Well, Edmund was nearly twelve. It was only because of the fact that his birthday was nineteen days later that he could only join school this year instead of the last year. A part of Harry was quite unhappy with this: his son was losing a year because of a few measly days. That part of him wanted to use his influence to get the boy in last year. But a larger part of him reasoned that it would not be proper. As King, and future Emperor, he had to lead by example.

Besides, this meant that the brothers got to be in the same batch, thus increasing the chances of them being in the same classes. They were still close to each other.

Clearing his throat, Harry said solemnly. 'Well boys, this is the beginning of a new chapter of your lives. Soon, you will be on your way to becoming real wizards.' He put his left hand on Edmund's right shoulder and his right on James' left as he crouched down. 'No matter what you do, know that the two of us will always love you.'

Harry grunted when his sons crashed into him, hugging tightly. He placed a kiss on their heads as he hugged them back.

'Having said that,' he was surprised that his voice was still steady. 'We would greatly appreciate it if you study hard, and stay out of mischief. Or at least,' he added with a wink. 'Try not to get caught.' His comment elicited watery chuckles from the boys who were clearly trying not to cry.

'Now one last thing,' Harry said seriously. 'If you ever end up conversing with Professor Hagrid outside classes – he's a large man, you will know who he is – anyway, if you do, and I highly recommend that you do as he is a nice chap, I have one piece of advice.' He looked at them in the eye. 'Do not offer to take care of any of his pets, and do not commit to anything until he tells you what it is … and if you see him with a book on dragons, or any other creature that has more than three exes … make sure you know what's in his hut before going there for tea!'

Harry stared at his sons expectantly till he got a nod of confirmation from each of them.

Satisfied, he straightened up and nudged his sons towards the train, waving at them as they made their way towards the locomotive, flanked by a guard each. He deliberately ignored the look of confusion on Daphne's face.

Harry heaved a sigh as the train disappeared around a bend. Aside from the fact that they had grown up so fast, dropping them off at the station added a level of melancholy as it reminded him of Mark, and the number of times he had stood on this very same platform to see him off.

'Right, let's go,' he muttered to Daphne who was rooted on the spot staring into empty space.

'Oh, yes,' she replied, breaking out of her revere.

With a nod to the guards, the King and Queen Disapparated to their home followed shortly by their security detail.

'Oh my boys have become so big.' Daphne nearly gushed as soon as they were in the privacy of their house.

'Indeed.' Harry agreed sombrely. 'Well, it had to happen sometime.'

'Perhaps I should pack together some sweets and nibbles …' Daphne said suddenly. 'Remind them that we are nearby.' She got up with determination.

'Daphne,' Harry interrupted her gently. 'Sit, please.' He guided her to a sofa, sitting next to her. Nuzzling her hair, he continued to speak. 'They aren't little anymore. It is time to let them have some of their freedom. Let it go. We discussed and agreed to this before. Aside from letters and any other parent-teacher conferences (which, of course, will entail the teachers coming here) we are going to allow them to spread their wings. Coddling them isn't going to serve anything.'

Daphne sighed. 'You are right.' She said, dabbing at her eyes. 'But it is hard not to worry.'

Harry snorted. 'That is your right as a mother. Now,' he sat up. 'I believe we have a choice. Sit around and mope, or carry on with our day. Personally, I think the latter option is best. It will help take our minds off. Well, that and I do have a lot of paperwork.'

Seeing her nod, Harry got up. Helping his first wife to her feet, he continued down towards his office. 'Perhaps you, Ginny, and Gabrielle could spend some time to get to know each other.' He commented lightly.

Not waiting for her answer, he slipped into his office. Sinking into his chair, he gazed contemplatively at the grounds.

Unbidden, memories of the past twelve years flashed past before his eyes. He remembered the mornings where he used to run around with the boys, the various games they would play, the times they had gone "exploring" on their own (at least as far as they were concerned – they did not know about the elves shadowing them) to return in a deplorably filthy state, bearing all sorts of things they found fascinating. Harry could not help but let out a chuckle as he thought of the time where they had brought home the jawbone of some long dead animal. The look on Daphne's face was priceless!

Despite what he had told his wife, Harry spent the better part of the morning lost in memory. He joined his three wives for a light lunch before sequestering himself back in his office.

This time he was determined to go through all the paperwork sitting at his desk.

The first few reports were dry, consisting of mundane things going around in his kingdom. He signed off on a few new regulations, and marked down other bits of legislation for further editing or review. While he was happy to let the Minister and the Wizengamot do most of the running, he still insisted on reviewing everything that was done. It was his responsibility, after all.

Catching himself nodding off, he headed down to the grounds for a short walk and a bit of fresh air.

Getting back, he first took out the Evening Prophet to look at the Quidditch scores.

About to set the paper aside, he stopped when he noticed a heading.

Slowly, not believing his eyes, Harry read the article below. It was a marriage announcement.

'Xenophilius Lovegood and Rita Skeeter?!' he ejaculated in disbelief.

Reading further, he found out that the two had been seeing each other since he was in fifth year. It turned out that writing that one article for the Quibbler had set the sparks off between the reporter and the editor. They had an on-again-off-again relationship for the next few years till he proposed to her.

'Well, that was unexpected,' Harry muttered.

Setting the paper aside, Harry reflected that it was a good thing that Skeeter had stopped snooping around as a beetle and had officially registered her form. Though, he supposed the fact that he knew about her abilities ensured her compliance.

Not that it stopped her stories from being any less sensational.

Snorting, he got back to work.

First off was a report from the Department of Mysteries' research division. After decades of research, they had finally managed to create a device that could give people the ability to change into any animal.

The device was inspired from the Animagus process and the Polyjuice Potion, both of which were tweaked and modified. Initial testing was promising. The magical apparatus allowed a person to acquire the DNA of any animal permanently and change into that animal as many times as they wanted. There were some limitations, however. First, there was a time limit. After two hours, the user would be forced back to his human form. Secondly, the process of changing from human to animal was much slower.

At the same time, the advantages were phenomenal. The number of morphs was unlimited. And just like the Polyjuice Potion, a person could change into another human, without going through any of the pain that came with the potion. Also, injuries sustained in one form heal automatically as soon as the wizard morphs to a different form or resumes his original form.

Harry's mind went on overdrive as he imagined the many, many ways this could be useful. Sure changing into another form required a lot of energy, making multiple morphing a very tiring endeavour, but it made intelligence gathering very easy. Add in the fact that magical animals could be morphed …

With a large smile, Harry put the file down. He would look this over later. Possibly see a demonstration as well.

He gave a small exclamation of delight when he saw the next report.

Operation "Impotence" was finally completed. What was more, his operatives had gone above and beyond expectations.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, Harry called forth a bunch of Patronuses which all cantered off.

It was time for another meeting. One that would finally, finally start the master plan.

Jumping to his feet, he strode to his window, looking out at the grounds. A feeling of nervous excitement was coursing through his veins, not unlike how he felt when he was about to take Voldemort down.

He looked at his watch. The train would have reached Hogsmeade by now.

He wondered what the sorting was going to be like. Which house were James and Edmund going to be in? He didn't have to worry about them being separated. After all, McGonagall had agreed to give them quarters of their own, but still, he wondered what the Sorting Hat would see.

Harry had his suspicions. Naturally, as their father and the person who raised them, he felt that he would know his own sons and thus which house they would end up in.

He would have to wait till next morning to get a letter from them.

Unless…

He looked behind him at the door. His wives would be busy right now…

With a twitch of his fingers, he opened the large recently installed floor to ceiling windows.

Stepping forth into thin air, he floated for a moment.

A small unnecessary flex of his legs later, he was rocketing past the grounds of his manor.

Disapparating silently, Harry ruminated that this was the best way to go, otherwise, he would not only have to deal with his wives, but his security team as well.

Reappearing above Hogsmeade, he quickly made himself invisible.

He watched as the train entered the station and the students disgorged. It took a moment for him to spot his sons as their bodyguards had managed to disguise themselves effectively to look like regular Hogwarts N.E.W.T. students.

Dropping his invisibility spell, Harry morphed to his Animagus form. The chilly night air was definitely not suitable for a diurnal raptor which relied on warm currents of air to stay aloft. Thus, Harry quickly winged it to the great hall, only pausing to gaze wistfully at the First-Years who were boarding the boats, led by Hagrid.

Quickly locating the hidden passageway that allowed the owls entry into the Great Hall, Harry was soon perched up in the rafters of the well-lit room, hidden by the ancient enchanted ceiling, watching the students slowly filter into the hall.

Soon enough the First-Years were being lead inside by Professor Flitwick, the deputy headmaster.

Hogwarts had changed a lot since he had last set foot here as a student. The student strength was now nearly two thousand strong, the majority of them being first and second years. Voldemort's death, along with the Magical Child Protection Act had resulted in quite a population explosion. The next batch of First-Years was expected to be even larger than this one. As a result, the core subjects (now including Muggle Studies) now had six to seven teachers each, one for each year with the N.E.W.T years being handled by one teacher. The additional subjects taken during third year and beyond had one to two teachers depending on the number of students.

Harry had already commissioned the building of another school in Wales, the Queen's school for Young Witches and Wizards (named so because Daphne was the one to suggest it first) to accommodate the influx of new students. After all, there was only so much magical expansion charms can do to avoid overcrowding.

'Potter-Black, Edmund,'

The sound of his son's name brought Harry out of his thoughts. He watched as his eldest stepped forward and made his way towards the hat. As per tradition, titles did not hold any meaning in Hogwarts grounds. Thus, despite being princes, his sons used the surname of "Potter-Black".

'Hello, dear,'

The sound of Daphne's voice startled Harry. Jumping slightly, the King turned around and spied his first wife sitting in the chair of his dark office.

'Hello,' he said in a casual voice, seating himself in one of his armchairs. He indolently draped a leg over the armrest. His attitude belied the nervousness he felt within. She didn't sound angry, but he had learnt long ago that women, especially Daphne, rarely let men know that they are angry. They liked to play with their prey first.

'Went out for a little stroll, did we?' Daphne replied lightly, as she casually caressed her wand.

'Yeah,' Harry replied just as lightly. 'I was feeling a little cooped up being in the office all day. I thought a bit of fresh air would help.' Idly he called up some of his magic, ready to throw up a shield.

'Oh? And how was it? Did it have a nice Scottish burr?'

'I don't quite – alright, alright,' he said raising his hands in a placating gesture. 'Yes I went to Hogwarts.'

Daphne scoffed. 'I knew it! And you were accusing me of "coddling".'

'Oh come on!' Harry replied. 'I hardly think watching from the rafters completely unnoticed by everyone in the hall is coddling!'

Daphne only sniffed. 'Still makes you a hovering father. After all, I don't think every single parent flew all the way to the school and disguised themselves just to spy on their children. What next? Do you plan on hovering around during their first flying lesson? Or are you going to be sitting at the back of the class when they learn Transfiguration?'

Harry did not see the need to dignify those questions with an answer, so he held his silence, adding in a lofty expression for effect.

With a great sigh, the Queen broke the silence. 'So where did they get sorted?'

'Why, don't want to wait till tomorrow?' Harry replied cheekily.

Daphne fixed him with an icy glare. Suddenly smirking, she rose from her seat gracefully.

She deliberately made her way towards Harry, making sure to put one foot in front of the other sashaying her hips as she made her way towards her very surprised husband.

Harry, who had sat up properly by then was silent as Daphne straddled his lap. Grabbing his collar, she started off with a sensual kiss, then moving down his jaw. She nibbled at his neck, making him moan.

'Won't you tell your wife which house her children are in, my lord?' she whispered seductively into his ear. 'I will be sure to pay your majesty back.' She slowly moved her hips against his lap, applying the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. 'Handsomely,' the last word was filled with lust.

'Edmund is in … Gryffindor,' Harry moaned. 'James is in … Slytherin.' He bent forward to nuzzle his wife's neck.

'Oh, is that so?' Daphne's voice abruptly became light. Sitting up, she tapped a finger to her lip, all but forgetting about the man she was sitting on.

Pecking her confused spouse on the forehead, she got up. 'Thanks, dear!' she gaily replied as she made her way towards the door.

'Wha – hey, wait!'

In response, Daphne stopped at the door and looked at Harry over her shoulder. 'What's the matter, darling? Oh, you must be wondering what just happened. Well, you went out, on your own, without telling anyone. So I seduced you, got you all hot and bothered … and am now leaving you … very unsatisfied. And that's your punishment. It is too bad that Ginny and Gabrielle have gone to visit Fred and George.' She said with a mock pout.

'Goodnight, dear,' and without a backwards glance, Daphne all but glided out of the room.

'Bugger,' was all Harry had to say.

Huffing, he headed towards his chair.

Settling down, he tapped the desktop at a certain spot, making it rise up till it was at a forty five degree angle.

Muttering the password, he tapped the sheet of parchment that appeared under the desktop. Leaning back, he studied the map, staring at the stationary dots.

He smirked. Originally, he was planning on telling Daphne, but now … Nah.

Harry wondered if his sons had found the copies of the Marauder's Map in their trunks yet.

Hermione stared down at the water from atop the cliff.

After Dumbledore's portrait had told her what he knew from his investigations, she had been quick to relay that information to the King of Spain and the American Minister of Magic.

The very thought of the implications hinted at were enough to send a shiver down the spines of all involved.

Due to the secrecy that was necessary, a very few individuals were informed of this. It would not do for the Dark Lord to know of their plans. And with the power he now held, it would be all too easy for him to find out if they weren't careful enough.

So there Hermione was. From what she knew, the last place Harry and Dumbledore had gone to before Dumbledore had died was a cave where a young Tom Riddle had tortured some poor Muggles.

Of course, finding said cave was hard, as the people in question, if they hadn't died already, would be quite hard to find.

So the Minister had assigned some agents to covertly investigate the orphanage Voldemort had grown up in.

The agents (who really didn't know why they were doing what they were doing) had soon found the location after some really hard work. As the only expert on all things Voldemort present with them (and therefore, the leading expert) Hermione had been instructed to go there and "check the place out", as her handler told her. For her safety, two other agents from the Auror force would accompany her. They would pose as a family out on "vacation" (another word her handler used that for some reason just wouldn't leave her mind – accent included).

Personally, Hermione saw no point in going to see the site. She knew that the object had been removed from that location long back ago and had been replaced with a fake. She had even pointed that fact out.

However, the Minister had a counterpoint: what proof did Hermione have that confirmed that the locket given to her by Harry came from the cave and wasn't, say, conjured up and given to her to put her off the trail?

After all, if Harry had already been affected by the soul fragment in his scar and had his body taken over by Voldemort, then it would stand to reason that the locket he had given her was something he thought of on the fly.

The Minister then proceeded to point out that it was possible that Harry – as – Voldemort had possibly waylaid Dumbledore, taken the great wizard by surprise, and then tortured the old man for a few hours before staging the old man's death. It was entirely possible that Harry had found out about Dumbledore's plans to end his life at the hands of Severus Snape.

Conceding these points, Hermione set off with the others. Appearing at the location, they booked two rooms at one of the pubs nearby and then started their work. It took several weeks of searching before they finally came to the most probable cave.

The cavern was quite hard to reach without the aid of magic, a main reason why they had initially dismissed its eligibility. However, since they had not found anything anywhere else, they were forced to consider a famous saying by one of Hermione's most favourite authors who had written, appropriately enough for this situation, a series of books on a detective.

'The place checks out,' one of her team members, Thane Cook, said.

'Huh,' her other team member, Rhonwen Gabriels, said. She had been the one who had originally dismissed the location out of hand.

'It seems impossible to imagine that a boy who is ten years old, or younger, with no formal training or knowledge of magic would be able to get himself down here along with two others without the aid of magic. And it is equally impossible to scale that using Muggle means!'

'"When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth"' Hermione couldn't help but say that, seeing as she was thinking of said quote a few moments back. 'There are no other places around that match the readings we are getting, so it stands to logic that Tom Riddle managed to successfully bring himself and two other children here. As we're pressed for time, I think we can discuss on the "how" later.'

'I think I know how to get through this opening,' Cook said from the back of the cave where he was standing.

'How?'

'It … um, requires … blood.'

'Blood?' Both women replied with disgust.

'Blood,' he said succinctly. 'What else do you expect from a Dark Lord?'

After some consensus, it was decided that being the only man in the group, Cook would do the gallant thing and donate his blood. This he eventually did, after a fair bit of swearing.

The minute the entrance materialised, they were hit with a gust of warm air.

'Ugh,' Hermione said, turning away in disgust. The smell that assaulted her nose was decidedly unpleasant. She wasn't the only one; the other two were coughing, instinctively jerking back.

'Well,' Cook said as he turned around to face them. 'That was –'

Before he could complete his sentence, a figure leapt from the gloom within, latching on his back with a guttural roar.

Both the women shrieked as Cook started screaming, trying to get the thing off him.

'Inferius!' Hermione yelled in panic.

'No, really?' Gabriels said sarcastically, her eyes and wand trained on the pair as they struggled, waiting for her shot.

'Cook, I need a clear shot! Try and throw him off!'

With a heave, the man managed to shove the Inferius off him as he scrambled back. Bringing his wand to bear he cast a cutting curse.

The curse lopped the head of the Inferius off while Gabriels' blasting curse tore a hole in its chest.

Chests heaving, the two looked at the corpse.

'Oh, come on!' Cook said in disbelief as the headless body started slowly getting back up.

'Incendio!'

The flames from Hermione's wand stopped the thing halfway towards its head. In short order, it was burnt to a crisp.

'Only fire can work against Inferi,' Hermione said. She turned away quickly. The smell of burning flesh wasn't pleasant.

'Right,' Gabriels said. 'If you're done with the lecture, 'Cher, could we continue?'

Hermione blushed at the nickname the two of them had given her. Due to her habit of launching into lectures and spouting random facts, her companions had taken to calling her "'Cher", which, as they said, was short for "teacher".

Of course, she never knew that the two of them had many more nicknames for her. None of those were flattering.

About an hour later, the three of them materialised back at the cliff.

Hermione couldn't exactly put a finger on how she felt. She was equally frustrated and vindicated. While she knew that there wouldn't be anything remaining, she couldn't help but feel let down.

At the same time, the cave had left them with more questions. For one, the air in the cave was practically saturated in components of the Draught of Living Death. Thankfully, the potion, being superheated, had lost all of its viability. Otherwise, they would all be in a lot of trouble.

Aside from that, they had discovered the distant echoes of serious magic. Magic associated with the Fiendfyre Curse. This along with what they realised was clumps of ash, lead them all to believe that the cave originally contained a small army of Inferi. Knowing Voldemort, they all were probably submerged in the lake full of the Draught of Living Death before becoming crispy fried.

Slowly the three of them made their way up to the hotel. Cook was badly injured from his tussle with the Inferius. A fact that he only realised once they were done with their investigation.

None of them noticed that Hermione's disguise had fallen. Nor did they notice the magical couple who were staring at them slack-jawed, evidently having recognised her.

Harry strode into the large chambers of the International Confederation of Wizards.

'Ministers of Magic,' Harry said as soon as he was seated. 'After many years of planning, our schemes have finally come to fruition.'

A frisson of excitement went through the room. Excitement that was amplified as Harry himself felt the same jubilation at the very thought of this happening.

'Soon,' he said. 'We will no longer need to hide. We will come out in the open, and show those dogs our might.' He made a fist at the last word.

'But first, before we take that step, there is one thing that must be done in preparation. And we all know what that is. So I ask, are we ready?'

'Greece is ready.' The minister of the mentioned country said, as he stood up.

One by one, the other heads of state followed, all of them giving their assent.

'Good,' Harry replied. 'Now I am sure that you know that we need to act quickly. Our attack must be perfectly coordinated. Let's not have any one of our targets slip through.'

Sitting up straight, Harry changed the subject. 'Now, I think it is time we formalised our union. From this day forth, we are now all a part of one entity. We are united under one banner: An empire, The Empire of Magic!'

His proclamation was met with cheers. Cries of, 'For the Empire!' and, 'Long live the Emperor!' rang out throughout the room.

Harry was brought out of his musing when he heard the knock on the door.

'Come in.'

Mechanically going through the protocol, Harry thought back on the day where he had spoken to the members of the International Confederation. The dates for his coronation as Emperor had been finalised easily. It was the location of the event that was up for debate with the heads of each country volunteering a location in their nation. The issue was not that of national pride, as wizards, unlike Muggles, had a very limited sense of nationality. It was more to do with the folklore and the history surrounding those sites. Naturally, as sovereign, he had to stay neutral. So he excused himself, stating that at this point, security and secrecy from the Muggles was paramount.

Eventually, it was decided to hold the ceremony in Britain itself. The security was the best there, with an almost negligible chance of any Muggle getting involved.

'Gentlemen,' Harry began the meeting once everyone was settled down. 'I have spoken to each and every one of you, and you all have made your reports. However, for the sake of formality,' he turned to Nicolas Flamel.

'What is the status of Fire Sale?'

'The same as before,' Nicolas replied. 'Agents are awaiting your signal to put it in motion.'

'Minister?'

'Stage two is complete. As Lord Flamel says, we await your signal. Impotence is also completed, and our men have gone the extra mile, just as I said in my report.'

'Hellfire has been fully tested and is now a viable tool.' The Lead Unspeakable said when Harry looked at him.

'Excellent,' the King replied, with growing excitement. 'And we know how well Instant Gratification is working out. That leaves…'

'…Project Thirst.' Thomas Belby said with a smirk when the King looked at him. 'And I am happy to say, Your Imperial Majesty, that that is also fully complete. We only need to activate the final stage.'

'Good,' Harry said, allowing a large grin to spread slowly on his face. 'Let's begin then. Nicolas, you and Belby start with your plans after the coronation ceremony. By then, all the various treaties should be signed. I don't really mind which operation finishes first, but I would be very happy if Fire Sale were to happen before Thirst.'

'At once, sire.' Both men stood up and left.

'Robert, get your men ready to initiate Hellfire. Coordinate with Belby along with your counterparts across the world. But first, we have to speak to the troops.'

Saying so, Harry rose, almost immediately followed by the Lead Unspeakable, the Minister and the Head of the Auror force.

As soon as they opened the door, they were met by an excited looking young Auror.

'What is the matter, Mathers?' the Head of the Auror force said with a hint of impatience.

'Sir,' the woman said excitedly. 'We have sighted one of our Tier One Targets.'

Robards' face lit up in anticipation as he stepped out into the corridor. 'Really, who?' he asked eagerly.

'It's Granger.'

'Is that so?' At the sound of Harry's voice, the remaining two men inside stepped to the side, allowing the monarch to step forward. He looked at the Auror intently, his powerful eyes gleaming.

'And what actions are being taken?'

The woman's eyes were wide. She had not seen the monarch until he had stepped forward. 'W – We are setting up a taskforce to the area where they were spotted.' She stuttered. 'There were two other people with her, um, your majesty.'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Who are they?'

'W – We have no idea, sir.' Seeing the other eyebrow rise, accompanied by a sharp look from her superior, she added hastily, 'Yet! But we are working on right now as we speak. So far, we have confirmed that they are a witch and a wizard. We got the news just five minutes ago.' She all but babbled.

'I see … and where were they spotted?'

'They were found in, um …' she took out a folder and started skimming through it quickly. Giving a small cry of triumph, she rattled off the name of the location.

'That is odd …' Harry said thoughtfully. 'Of all the places in Britain…'

'Very well,' he finally said. 'I want a copy of the results on my desk as soon as the operation is complete. Please see to it, Miss Mathers.' Nodding to her, he swept past her, followed by his three companions, the last of who gave his slightly perspiring subordinate a look that clearly stated that he would be calling for her as soon as he got back to his office.

'Yes, sir,' her voice was all but inaudible. She slowly sank to the floor as soon as the men were out of sight.

It took her a few calming breaths and a few moments to realise that she really had nothing much to fear, really. After all, she wasn't handling the operation. She was only a messenger. As a new recruit, her job was to observe the proceedings.

Of course, with the monarch's last statement, it meant that she would have to compile her first after-action report. And it would have to be good too, considering who would be seeing it.

The surge of relief was suddenly gone now.

'Bugger'

Flanked by the Lead Unspeakable and the Minister, Harry stood before the officers of his army.

'Ladies and Gentlemen,' he began. 'Today, I stand before you, filled with a certain amount of pride. You are the best of the best: Dedicated men and women who all have a high position in the military: whether it is in the army, the navy or the air force.

'And your journey has not been an easy one! Yes, you are all results of a project called "Instant Gratification" but I know that it has not been "instant" for you all.'

Harry paused to look them all in the eye.

'As you no doubt know, Time Turners can be used to go back in time. Now normally, there is a limit; a person cannot turn back for more than a day. However, by using three per person, and a ritual designed by the Department of Mysteries, we have managed to send all of you back thirty years.

'You have gone back that amount of time with one mission: to pose as Muggles, join the armed forces of any Muggle country, participate in their wars, gain a high enough position and through that, understand battle and warfare. For while we may have magic, and have seen our share of wars, it isn't the same as the wars the Muggles have participated in.'

Harry's voice grew soft. 'It certainly wouldn't have been easy for you all, to give up being who you are, and going into the past. Add in the temptations you all must be facing, knowing what you know of the future and yet not doing anything to change it. Most of you have lost someone to the two wars that were fought on British soil thanks to Voldemort.' He paused for a long moment. 'Some say that it takes courage to act, yet, I say that there is even greater courage in standing to the side and not interfering.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'I myself know of what you must have gone through. Most would believe that all the Time Turners were used up when we sent you back in time. However, that wasn't entirely true.' He looked at them all in the eye.

'I too did the same as you did.' He said to the surprise of everyone save the Lead Unspeakable. 'I also went back in time. I joined the army under an alias and like you all, spent about thirty years there. And as I was twenty six then … well, I think you can guess that it was much before my parents died.

'But we persevered. We all worked for a better future. Not one that could be had by changing the past, but one that could happen by learning from it. And here we are, about to make that future happen!'

Cheers rang out at his declaration.

With a raised hand, Harry quietened the room. 'We have dipped our hands in battle once. Taking on the goblins was quite a fun little task. However, the real work begins now. In a few short weeks, the main show shall begin. Let's finish all our last minute preparations.'

Once they were alone, the Minister asked him. 'Did your majesty really go back into the past?'

'Indeed.' Harry replied steadily. 'After all, I too need to know what is going on if I am about to be waging a war.'

The Minister grunted. 'I do wonder, though. None of them look a day older than when we sent them back. How is that?'

Harry cast an amused glance. 'We do have an alchemist, Minister. A very successful alchemist, as you no doubt know.'

His expression became solemn. 'I wasn't about to rob them of time, if I could help it. Besides, it would raise questions if men and women suddenly became thirty years older without no apparent rhyme or reason. While most of them have little family to speak of, they do have enough friends.'

It began like any other day.

Ron was sitting inside a restaurant at a table by the window, enjoying the weather and the day.

Today was his day off. Normally, people would be having a bit of a lie in, or would do something relaxing. Ron wasn't ashamed to admit that he would have been that kind of a person a few years back. Not that there was anything wrong in being that kind of person.

However, he was planning on taking advantage of his day off. Since Hermione wasn't in the house, out doing who knew what for the Ministry, he was assessing the competition.

Namely the restaurant he was sitting in.

Well, to be honest, it was more of a café (well he called them a café, he didn't feel that they deserved their self-styled title of "English pub") and they really weren't much of a competition, but they did have some excellent pastries. And Ron wanted to see if he could woo the person responsible for them.

Their current pastry chef wasn't as brilliant.

Having placed his order, he looked around the café. It was quaint … almost (but not quite like) an English pub filled with various men and women in their suits, sipping their coffee (Ron winced) and eating breakfast. There was a machine that he recognised as a television showing what he guessed to be news. Ron remembered the name of that gadget all right, he had sold the one his wife had brought home. It was far too distracting.

Ron was very much aware that he was quite out of place here, what with his rather casual attire and laid-back attitude (he hadn't even shaved yet) but it did not bother him. He took out a notebook and started making notes losing himself in his own world, knowing that he looked very much like a teenager.

He was soon jolted out by loud exclamations.

Looking up, he noticed that everyone was focused on the telly. Almost in a trance everyone in the establishment started crowding around the machine as someone turned the volume up.

Ron did not understand what the woman in the box was saying. However, judging by the big red arrow that was being shown dropping down like a stone, he had a feeling that it wasn't anything good.

'Excuse me,' he politely said to the person in front of him. 'But what exactly is going on?'

'Can't you –?' the woman stopped mid-sentence when she properly saw him.

'I'm guessing you are no businessman, kid' she said hurriedly and a touch condescendingly. 'Normally I wouldn't bother with college kids like you, but, this is something you should know.' She took a deep breath. 'To put it in simple terms, we are broke.'

'What do you mean we are broke?!'

The President of the United States of America sat there, looking at the Secretary of the Treasury with disbelief colouring his face.

'Well, sir, that is the oddest thing,' the man said, clearing his throat. 'The Federal Reserve has bought a great amount of government bonds.'

'How much?' the President demanded.

The Secretary took out a pen and wrote an amount on a pad of paper sitting on the President's desk. The amount was so high, he felt nervous just saying it out loud.

The President's eyes bulged when he saw the amount.

'I am having trouble understanding your writing. Is this a "B"?'

The Secretary nodded.

'So that's a Billion? With a "B"?'

'Indeed, sir,'

The Secretary was quite fascinated at watching the President's face drain of colour. The nearly orange skin was quite … disturbing to look at as it became white. As was the blond hair (which the Secretary thought was a headpiece till he saw it hold up in a stiff wind).

'Why would they do such a thing?' the man finally asked incredulously.

'We are trying to figure that out right now, sir,' the Secretary replied. 'A committee is being –'

'You are the Secretary of the United States Treasury, are you not?' The President said in a condescending voice. 'Then I think you should know what this means!'

'I am quite aware, Mr President,' the Secretary said with gritted teeth. And at this moment he really wished he had no idea.

The Federal Reserve was the central banking system of the country. Among the many functions it had, it was supposed to set the interest rates in the country as well as buy and sell government bonds.

Government bonds were basically loans taken by the national government. They sold these bonds to fund their various programs and basically pay their bills. Bonds were generally bought back when the country experiences a boost in the economy.

However, what had happened right now was a large amount of Treasury Bonds being bought by the government in a very short time. And it was done with money that the government could ill afford to spend.

A direct result of this was the market being flooded by U.S. currency. This had the effect of depreciating the value of the dollar.

Severely

In simple terms, at the moment, the dollar was worth less than the paper it was printed on.

While the country wasn't exactly broke per se, it was getting there. The cost of everything, from fuel and food to utilities was increasing dramatically by the second.

The frustrating bit was that there wasn't anything that could be done to immediately counter this. Moving Congress to possibly pass a bill or whatever would take some time, even if the situation was this dire.

Meanwhile, prices everywhere had already started skyrocketing. It was barely a day, and the price of oil and gas had increased phenomenally. A conservative estimate put it at a thousand per cent increase by the end of the day.

'So start buying up the currency,' the President said a bit impatiently, his bushy blond eyebrows contracting.

'That is what I have come here for,' the Secretary replied. 'I don't need to tell you that it is going to be very expensive. This is going to set us back by quite a bit. Till we even reach a semblance of stability, things are going to be crazy. We have a long road ahead of us, sir, and it isn't going to be easy.'

The President was silent for a long moment.

'We shall meet in two hours,' he finally said. 'I want all possible ways where we can start acting.'

Catching the look on his subordinate's face, he snapped irritably. 'I will be working on another solution in the meantime. Now, please. Go.'

As soon as the door closed, the President looked at a portrait that was handing in an unobtrusive corner.

'Get me Amanda Rutgers.'

Hermione stood up from her chair, never gladder to be leaving the office of the American Minister of Magic. In her opinion, the meeting was quite uncomfortable as it was a discussion about their trip to Britain. Not only had they found nothing, but Hermione had been spotted, and the whole team had nearly been caught by the Aurors. It was only chance that allowed them to escape.

She was inches from the door when it burst open, revealing a very flustered wizard.

'Ma'am, we have a problem.' The breathless man wheezed, clutching a stitch in his side.

Not waiting for his superior to utter a single word, he staggered in and collapsed into the seat Hermione just vacated, ignoring the woman entirely in question.

'We … have – have … no money.' He said amidst great gulping gasps.

'Pardon?' the minister said politely. 'Could you repeat yourself, Harvey? I didn't catch that.'

'I said,' the man took in a deep lungful of air. 'We have no money.' Seeing the look of incredulity on the Minister's face, he elaborated. 'Gringotts is closed, ma'am. It hasn't opened at all.'

Suddenly a portrait cleared its throat.

'The President requests your presence, Minister. He says that it is an emergency.'

Rutgers looked between the portrait and the wizard in front of her for a long moment.

'Right, this is what we are going to do.' She said in a low voice. 'Harvey, take a small contingent of Aurors with you and go investigate the bank. I am sure that it is nothing. Perhaps there was some internal issue. Meanwhile, I will go and see what the Muggle wants. Hermione, stay here and contact me if there are any updates while I'm away.'

Soon enough, Hermione was sitting in the office all alone.

An indeterminate amount of time later, the fireplace came to life.

Looking at the green flames, Hermione could make out the head of a clearly worried Harvey.

'Where is the Minister?' he asked a touch frantically.

'She isn't here at the moment,' Hermione replied. 'But I was told to take a message.'

'Oh right,' the man said, clearly frazzled. 'Well, you might want to tell her that things aren't looking too good. We have just finished investigating the building as well as the first tier of vaults, and we are about to go in deeper, but we haven't found anything nor anyone. Not even a sliver of a Knut nor a goblin janitor. We still have to finish, but I doubt there will be anything in the lower vaults. The place is completely abandoned! And empty!'

'So we are in agreement then?'

'Yes sir,' Amanda Rutgers said steadily. 'We shall have the gold sent to you shortly.'

Just as the Minister was about to get up, the magical portrait that was used to communicate between her and the Muggle President cleared its throat.

'A Mrs Hermione Granger-Weasley wishes to see you urgently. She is rather insistent that she meets you.'

'Send her in,' the Minister said after a short pause as the President raised a blond eyebrow.

Hermione had just stepped out of the fireplace when the President's phone rang.

'Yes,' he said, lifting the receiver.

'I see. Send him in, then.'

Putting the phone down, he looked at Hermione. 'Well, don't just stand there looking suspicious, sit down and act like you belong!'

With a start, Hermione sat down next to the Minister, discreetly observing the Muggle.

The President was … quite interesting to look at. The blond hair on his head was far too strange looking for it to be anything other than a wig. Perhaps it was the office the man held, or perhaps it was the fact that Hermione knew in general terms that he was a successful real estate mogul before he was elected, but Hermione couldn't help but be intimidated by the man.

And that was despite the fact that his skin was very orange.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted when another man all but burst into the room.

'Mr President,' he said as he approached the television. 'You have to see this.'

Out of the four occupants, only two understood the full import of the situation.

'The Euro, the Pound and the Yen are in a similar condition?!' the President finally said. 'Dear god!'

Turning to the Minister, he remarked. 'It looks like we won't be able to use your resources. The whole market has crashed.'

Rutgers herself wasn't completely oblivious to the situation. 'Once is an unfortunate happenstance,' she said slowly. 'Twice is a coincidence … but four times?'

'Um, what exactly is the issue?' Hermione tentatively spoke up.

'Well,' the Minister replied. 'Basically, the dollar is currently devalued.' She spent a few moments explaining the situation.

'Which is why the President called me, so that he can make use of our …' she cast a subtle glance at the Secretary. '…Resources. However, with the Euro, the Pound and the Yen in a similar situation, we won't be able to make that happen.'

'Not that we would be able to anyway.' Hermione said blankly as she processed what happened. Casting a more obvious glance towards the two Muggles, she continued. 'Harvey just spoke to me before I came here. I am afraid that his, um, initial observation was right.'

The Minister looked at her, horror-struck. 'No,' she whispered.

'Excuse me, but who the hell are you two?'

The voice of the Secretary seemed to bring both the President and the Minister out of their shell-shocked state.

'Could you give us a minute, John?' The President said, looking at the two women.

'Alright, now what were the two of you whispering about?' He demanded once the Secretary had left.

Hermione was the first to break under the rather intimidating stare. 'Our gold has vanished.'

She glanced at her fellow witch and mouthed a "sorry".

The Minister, who was pinching her nose, gave no indication of having seen Hermione. Giving Hermione a deadly look, she reluctantly looked at the President. 'It would appear that we are in the same situation as you are. All of our gold has mysteriously vanished. The bank is completely empty.'

The President leaned back. 'You are right. This is intentional.' He mused.

'And the person or persons responsible are magical.' Rutgers said grumpily.

Hermione suddenly started. Leaning forward, she said in a low voice. 'I have a feeling that we know who it is…'

The foreboding in her voice gave the Minister a clue as to who the witch was talking about.

'You can't be serious!'

Miles away, the man both the witches had in mind was watching the news reports, a slow smile growing on his face.

Fire Sale was a success.

And here is Chapter 44! The idea for Fire Sale was something that I had thought about a long time back. You could say that this idea, screwing the economy of the world up to make everyone broke, was the idea that spawned this story.

Now, I am no economist, I know little of the subject. Which is why I spoke to someone who did. I would like to thank him for putting up with me and my questions (and I am sure they must have been really stupid questions to him) all those years ago.

So, Scott, wherever you are, if you are reading this, thanks a tonne mate!

And to all those people who actually understand economics ... if you find something wrong with what I put up, let it go ... I don't claim to understand everything perfectly.

So there!

Oh, ten points to the person or persons who guessed whom I made the President of America in my happy little world!

A hint: he really really loves his name!

45. Chaos

Chapter Forty Five, for your reading pleasure ... earlier than usual ...:D

(Added on 4th September 2013) I just had some inspiration for a scene that would go nicely in this chapter. Check it out!

The effects of the economic meltdown caused by Fire Sale reverberated throughout the world. The state of the modern world economy meant that the fortunes of each country were dependent on the other. Out of these, they were affected the most by the strength of the American Dollar, the British Pound, The Euro and the Japanese Yen. A drop in the value of one of these would affect the entire world market.

But when all four of them failed, and failed so spectacularly … well, "widespread chaos" was far too mild a term to use to describe the situation.

Overnight, the most basic of necessities like bread and water became more expensive than the finest caviar (which in turn became a luxury even the rich could no longer afford). Many a time, a person would order a basic meal in a basic restaurant, but in the five minutes it took for his food to come, it would end up costing him ten times the price.

All of this went through the mind of the Nawab of Pataudi as he paced back and forth, waiting for his Minister of Magic to show up.

The Prime Minister of India had contacted him and his fellows quite quickly once the news had broken out. The fall in the Dollar affected the Rupee severely. While the news was barely a few hours old, the amount of chaos was already building. Something needed to be done to offset the dramatic fall. And gold was their best bet.

'Sahib,' the voice of his personal assistant broke through his thoughts. 'He has arrived.'

'Send him in,' The Nawab replied in Hindi, stroking his trimmed beard.

Only a few short hours back, the King of Spain had called him with wild ramblings about how the wizards could not be trusted. Personally, the Nawab did not believe the man, the monarch did have a reputation of being quite power hungry and sly, after all. He would not put it past the old man to have some ploy cooked up so that he could end up with more power.

Besides, the very thought of the wizards being capable of anything was ludicrous. They were oath-bound!

As such, he had (quite politely, mind you) told the man to piss off, ignoring the standard muttered slight against his chosen profession.

It wasn't as if everyone could live a life of idle luxury subsisting only on a steady income. Besides, while his ancestors and the most of nobility and royalty would scoff at his chosen profession, he still made a tonne of money and had quite a bit of fame and good standing in public as well.

He was brought of his thoughts when the door opened to admit the Minister of the magical princely state of Pataudi.

'Ah,' the Nawab said, glancing at him. 'I am going to require some of your gold.' Turning around he strode to his desk.

'I am afraid I cannot allow that.'

The darkly sinister tones of the wizard stopped the Muggle in his tracks.

'What do you mean?' The Nawab said irritably. In his agitation he switched to English. 'Need I remind you of your oaths, wizard?'

'No you need not, Muggle,' the Minister sneered with venom, completely taking the other man aback by his tone.

'While I cannot be released from my oaths, I can transfer them. And I now owe my allegiance to someone else.' He drew his wand, his posture giving a clear message of aggression as he did so.

Eyes widening, the Nawab immediately pressed a talisman around his neck.

However, the Minister was unfazed when a group of other wizards appeared in the room. The Nawab was quite disconcerted to see him smirk of all things.

'Well, what are you waiting for? Restrain him!' he yelled in Hindi to his guards.

As one, the four other wizards stepped forward…

Only to stand next to the minister, facing the man that they were expected to protect.

'It seems that your guards also owe their allegiance to another, Sahib.' The Minister said in mocking tones. His face twisting in an expression of rage, he raised his wand and cried, 'For the Emperor!'

Outnumbered and outgunned the lone Muggle did not even stand a chance. Multiple jets of light impacted the Nawab, lighting up his body like one of the displays in Fred and George's shop.

The Minister looked at the smoking corpse in front of him. 'Burn this place down. I want nobody here to live.'

'Ji, han,' the former bodyguards replied with a bow.

Harry sat in his office in Buckingham Palace, looking at the television screen in front of him.

The peals of sirens coming from ambulances and police cars gave more than enough credence to the reports of riots he was seeing in the news. People all over the country, as well as the world were going crazy. So far, no serious damage had happened. The Muggles were all busy with harassing the Prime Minister and the government. Those crowds that weren't located in Downing Street or near Westminster Palace were gallivanting around town, looting, mugging, and generally taking part in activities of the destructive mob kind.

A smile broke out in the newly crowned Emperor's face. Project Fire Sale was wildly successful.

Harry had to give Flamel credit where it was due. The ancient alchemist had seen this opportunity quite a few decades back and had started his research into how best he could screw it up. Harry coming into power helped speed up his plans. Soon enough, the right people in the various Treasuries concerning the various currencies were Imperiused, waiting for the order to start buying bonds like they were going out of style.

However it was beginning to wind down now. There was only so much of rioting and shouting and haranguing one can do in a day … and the police can be a bit of a wet blanket.

Harry took out his mirror.

'Robert,'

A man's face appeared. 'Yes, your imperial majesty?'

'Things are getting rather quiet here,' Harry replied lightly. 'I think the Muggles are getting bored.'

'Ah,' the man replied with a smirk. 'That is truly a shame, sire.'

'If only we had something to liven up the party.' Harry said with mock sadness. 'Perhaps an operation or a project…'

'I have just the thing!'

'Good. Roll it out.'

Putting the mirror down, Harry looked out of the windows. The grounds surrounding the palace were a direct contrast to the tumultuous atmosphere in London. While the monarchy had no power as far as the Muggles were concerned (they still didn't know that Harry had made parliament overturn all those laws) the royals were still seen as the face of the government of Britain. And one can't really expect a mob to see reason. As a result, many of the Muggles in the palace wondered why nobody had even set foot in the grounds. Not that they were complaining. Going out anywhere was dangerous, making the palace a bastion of peace and safety.

The prevalent theory was that the public still saw the King in a positive light, despite the woes that befell the world. After all, compared to his predecessors, Harry's public opinion rating was the highest ever.

Of course, Harry knew the real reason. And it was a very simple solution:

Muggle Repelling Wards

While the area the wards had to cover was quite large, they had to do relatively little work. The panic and confusion that was taking place more than helped to ensure that the already distracted Muggles didn't even think of looking at Buckingham Palace.

Snorting, he got up and Disapparated.

Settling down for the night in his bedroom in the Potter ancestral home, he idly wondered what the Muggles would think of Thirst.

The anticipation made him shiver.

The Nawab of Pataudi wasn't the first or the only one to have suffered such a fate. All over the world, similar scenes repeated themselves. In a matter of days, almost every single Muggle royal line met its end.

There were exceptions, however. The King of Spain and his family, for one, had managed to escape the vengeful wand-welding wizards and witches.

As soon as he had heard from Rutgers about the possibility of the wizard king's involvement, the King had packed every single member of the family into his private jet, allowing them to only get the bare essentials.

It was a stupidly dangerous thing to do as the aircraft was filled beyond capacity, but he had no choice. It was a stroke of good fortune that the overloaded aeroplane had made it safely to America with no injuries sustained by anyone.

He did not know what had happened to the other imperial and royal houses, but he did know that his favourite villa and the palace had been ransacked by individuals unknown. He assumed that that meant the magical people. Though, thanks to the recent riots because of the collapse of their economy, it was possible that a regular mob had perpetrated that crime.

But his journey and the survival of his cousins mattered little to the aging monarch at the moment.

That was because he was currently arguing with the President of the United States of America.

'I am telling you, you need to order a nuclear strike!' he fairly shouted, finally reaching the end of his tether. God, how he hated the obstinate, pig-headed, stubborn, arrogant man in front of him! Orange skin included.

'And I am telling you,' the orange man replied impatiently. That is not going to happen. I am not going to launch a nuclear strike anywhere just because you said so. You have no proof that the King of England is responsible.'

'I just gave you the proof!'

The President was unimpressed. 'That is only conjecture. I need hard facts leading the man to hell we are going through. Besides, there is the small fact that British currency is just as affected. I do not care who you are, I am not going to take anything you have to say at face value.'

The sound of the phone on the desk interrupted any further conversation.

'Yes? Send him in then. I will be there in a few moments.'

Setting down the receiver, the President said to the foreign royal. 'I am afraid that I have something important to do now. I am running a country after all, and that country is in crisis. So if you don't mind…'

Not waiting for a response, the president got up and walked out of the boardroom.

'That was rude,' Hermione finally ejaculated. 'He didn't even acknowledge our presence!'

Amanda Rutgers didn't comment, even if she agreed. Instead, she focused on the Muggle. 'Now what do we do, sir?' she asked the king.

'I suppose there is little we can do until we get definite proof,' the old man finally said. He gave them a piercing look. 'I trust that you will see to it?'

'Indeed, sir,' Rutgers replied.

'Good,' the monarch stood up. 'I will head over to the embassy then.' Saying so, he looked outside. There were a large amount of people chanting slogans outside the fence. On top of that there were the distant wail of sirens as police and emergency services dealt with the riots taking place. He knew that the military would soon have to be involved if things did not calm down. And it looked like that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

'I think it would be best if you took a Portkey, your majesty,' Rutgers finally said.

'No, that won't be necessary.' The monarch replied. 'I will be using one of the secret passages where my car and men will be waiting.' He didn't add that he did not trust any wizard at all right now.

As soon as the King left, the Minister and Hermione headed towards one of the exit points located in the women's lavatory.

They had barely reached the Minister's office when the portrait summoned Rutgers again.

'Tell the president that I have a country to run as well,' she snapped at the portrait. She was in no mood to put up with the arrogant Muggle any more for the day. It was high time he realised that she was not one of his underlings. Her allegiance was to the King of Spain, not to the President.

Magically silencing the portrait, she sat behind her desk, pulling the nearest folder towards her.

'If you have nothing of import to add, Mrs Weasley, I suggest you make your way home.' She said curtly, not bothering to look up from the folder.

Hermione stared at her for a long moment before leaving the office in a huff.

The Minister sniffed. And there went another arrogant jerk. She seemed to be surrounded by such people. What's more, this one just couldn't keep her mouth shut and critical information to herself. She was thankful that she had extracted an oath from the idiot woman to keep their financial situation to herself after blurting it out in front of the Muggle.

Hermione stood ramrod straight in the lift as it went down to the atrium. She had done nothing to warrant such treatment by the Minister! Sure, she had slipped up in front of the Muggle President, but that was no reason to get into a hissy fit! And to top it off, she demanded for an oath of silence! That was going too far!

Hermione walked slowly through passage leading from the Minister's private lift towards the atrium. Unlike the Muggle world, the citizens of the Magical Federation of Northern America were a little calmer, if a bit tense. She simultaneously envied and pitied them. They had no idea that all their money had gone.

It was only five days since they had found out about the goblins' desertion and the collapse of the economy, and the Minister had decided to clamp down on the information for the moment. The official story was that the goblins had closed down the bank for some much-needed emergency maintenance. Till that time, the Ministry would be using the reserve gold it had to sustain the economy.

What nobody but the Minister knew was that the reserve gold was there in case of a goblin rebellion. The people might be under the impression that those mutinies were a thing of the past, but the government didn't trust the goblins enough to think the same.

These reserves would be enough for a few more weeks if they managed to budget things well. After that … well, hopefully an alternate solution would be found.

She didn't know what chaos would reign, should the real story get out.

Just as she was thinking these thoughts, a roar of sound cut off all noise in the atrium.

It took a moment for Hermione to recognise the voice, but when she did, she sprinted the last few feet into the atrium proper.

Reaching her destination, Hermione stopped dead as she clapped eyes in the scene in front of her. Right in the centre of the room in front of the fountain, sat a large tiger Patronus. Perched on top of its head was something that Hermione had never seen in a Patronus before: A crown.

She had a very bad feeling about the identity of the creator of this construct.

'My fellow magical brethren,' the ethereal animal said in a voice that was definitely her former friend's. Yep, that explained the crown. Though, Hermione wondered how the animal had changed form. She knew that his Patronus was a stag. 'I was once born Harry James Potter. As many of you know, I am known throughout the world as the only survivor of the dreaded Killing curse. What most of you may not know is that recently it was found out that I am related to the Queen of England on my mother's side. Due to the tragic demise of her majesty's family, I ended up inheriting the throne, making me the first magical king in centuries.

'But that is not why I have sent this recorded message to you. I have glorious news that I wish to share. Over the years, after much negotiation and treaties, the various member nations of the International Confederation of Wizards has decided to join together into one empire, with me as their emperor. As of yesterday, at nine in the morning, Greenwich Mean Time, I was formally crowned Emperor of the newly named Wizarding Empire.'

About to squeeze past two elderly warlocks to get closer, Hermione froze. "Emperor"? He had actually managed to declare himself Emperor? Well, that did give some proof towards his involvement in the meltdown of the Muggle economy. And if he was being truthful, then the King of Spain for one wouldn't be able to ever return to Spain. Suddenly she feared for the other imperial and royal houses.

'However, with this good news comes some saddening news.' The apparition's voice turned sorrowful. 'Due to some disagreements a few years back, your country, the Magical Federation of Northern America, had since left the International Confederation and, due to actions taken by your previous minister, were not privy to much news from the outside world, which included the negotiations that formed the empire. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the goblins you bank with.'

Hermione's eyes widened when she realised what was about to happen. Diving in, she desperately tried to fight through the large crowd that had now formed at the atrium. She had to stop that recording at all costs. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see at least one Auror doing the same thing.

'The goblins, as is their nature, have been rather … enthusiastic to join us.' Harry's Patronus continued speaking, unheeding of the reactions its words were generating. 'Thus, they saw fit to turn up on our shores, asking for inclusion. To ensure full cooperation, they not only decided to speak to the goblins we bank with first, but they also thought to take all the money that was there in your vaults. They have melted every single gold, silver and bronze coin that was ever there in your bank, made bars of the metals and brought it all with them along with all the other raw metal.'

Hermione froze in the middle of the crowd. All around her, gasps of disbelief could be heard as people started to process what was just said.

'Unfortunately,' the magical representation of the King, no, Emperor, started speaking again. 'The actions of your goblins came to light a few scant hours ago. And so, we wish to express our regret that all of you had to needlessly suffer. We would also like to apologise for the small part the formation of the empire had in it, no matter how inadvertent it may be. However, we are, regrettably, unable to return the gold. Your current Minister, a Miss Amanda Rutgers, and her government have refused our repeated requests to meet us or our diplomats. While this would not be a problem, the fact that all the coins have been melted down and thus technically no longer considered currency of your fair country complicates things. As such, sending the money back could be seen as an act of invasion, while asking the goblins to mint the metal back into your currency could be seen as an act of counterfeiting. And we have no intention of perpetrating any of that as we do not wish to go to war with you. And that is despite the fact that your ambassadors have been rather non-responsive, and could almost be considered hostile.

'Therefore, I offer this solution: come to Britain or any other colony of our empire and give your details along with proof of identification to the nearest Gringotts branch – currently the closest colony would be Canada. Within a few working days, you will have your money back. We have also negotiated with our goblins for reparations and they have agreed to pay an additional fifteen per cent of your vault's worth rounded up to the highest Galleon.

'Of course, as we do not have the authority to produce currency in the name of your monarch, we are forced to use Galleons of the Empire. Thus, you will not be able to return back with your money as doing so might cause many diplomatic problems that the Empire does not wish to be a part of. We do regret to inform you that we found it necessary to inform our border patrol officers to make sure not a single Knut goes through customs. But fear not, for I, Harry, first Emperor of the Wizarding Empire offer any witch or wizard coming from the Magical Federation of Northern America and their family citizenship and place to stay with discounted property prices should they wish to do so. Of course, that is provided that they meet the necessary requirements expected of any good law abiding citizen of the Empire. I hope that this is enough to alleviate the grief and difficulty you all may have faced thanks to the actions of the goblins you trusted with your money.

'Thank you for your time, and please accept my deepest sympathies for the troubles you are currently facing thanks to the inadvertent consequences of the formation of our glorious empire.'

With that the Patronus faded away, leaving chaos in its wake.

Knowing that she was too late to stop the news from getting out, Hermione had turned around and promptly started making her way to the lifts , listening with half a ear as the Patronus spoke. As a consequence of that, she had quite a head start. By the time the first signs of anger spouted out, she was halfway up to the Minister's office.

All but sprinting down the corridor, she blew past the secretary with a hurried 'This is urgent!'

Throwing open the door, she burst into the room, startling the Minister.

'What the hell is the matter with you woman?!' Rutgers shouted irately. She had just about recovered temporarily from the stress of the day and one of the objects of her bloody frustrations decides to show up by violently bursting into her office.

Hermione was far too worked up to even take offence at the Minister's tone.

'Seal – seal the office,' she wheezed. 'Everyone knows.' Panting, she collapsed into the nearest available chair.

'Knows what?' the Minister replied tersely.

'About the money,' having caught her breath, Hermione resumed speaking in a normal voice. Quickly and concisely, she explained what happened in the atrium.

'That son of a bicorn!' the Minister finally exclaimed, ramming her fist down on her desk. Potter's (or whoever the hell he was) move was a masterstroke. Something told her that the tyrant already knew of the gag order the Ministry had put on the news of the goblins' disappearance. Not only had he caused panic, but he had also lured people to his empire.

And that was another thing that bugged her. In hindsight, perhaps it was not a good move to withdraw all their ambassadors and refuse to communicate with Britain. With to their exclusion from the I.C.W., and their reliance on the King of Spain and the magical state of Canada to give them any information, their actions ensured that the empire practically formed right under their noses. They were now currently the only free magical country in the world. At least, that is what she assumed. She had no idea how far the empire spanned. But, knowing Hermione's accounts of that bastard, she wouldn't put it past him to convince every single member-state of the I.C.W. to join the empire.

Personally, she was surprised that the King (or, as he was now, Emperor) had not demanded that the two Weasleys be sent back. She knew that had he done so, he would get his wish. The fact that he had all their gold would ensure that the extradition would happen regardless of the Minister's wishes.

The worst bit was that he was also technically well within his rights to hold onto the gold. If he was correct and those treacherous goblins had melted down all their coins, there was no way they could claim that the gold belonged to them.

The only thing distinguishing the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts of one country from another was the visage used on the coins. Different countries carried a different face. Sure there was no exchange rate, and the Galleons of one magical nation were the same value in another, but it was more to do with the principle of the thing.

Ancient goblin enchantments ensured that the metal could not be melted down at all by anybody … except for the thrice cursed traitorous goblins.

Amanda shuddered. There were fifteen of the old Pureblood families here, having emigrated with everything they owned from Europe and Britain. They held quite a bit of power. And none of them were going to be happy at having all their liquid wealth and heirlooms missing.

And to top it all off, they were going to have to deal with the problem of mass migration. It would be stupid to hope that people didn't start packing their bags to move out of the country en masse after that speech. They had a simple choice: live here in poverty, or go there and be rich again. Richer, if the Emperor's promises rang true.

They did not know the horrible truth.

'Things couldn't get any worse,' she mumbled. At least that villain was still crippled.

Around the same time as the Minister was rubbing her temples and cursing the new Emperor, events were unfolding across the world.

As soon as the Emperor had given the order, runes placed in many different sites in the world started glowing as their makers activated them.

The runes took a few moments to charge. Once done, they released their magic, crafting a spell. A Vanishing Charm to be specific.

Soon enough, the substance the charm was targeted at started vanishing by the megalitre.

It took some time for the Muggles to notice it. After all, they were currently occupied with other things.

But they eventually found out. And when they did …

Panic levels rose to a new high.

'Sir, they require you on deck. Headquarters is calling.'

The crusty old man looked up. 'They are?' he replied in Arabic, the principal language the crew used aboard the ship.

'Well, it's about time.' Grumbling, the short man got up and headed out towards the deck, following his underling.

It had been nearly two whole weeks since he had been given orders to stop all engines and drop anchor wherever he was at the moment, and while food and water supplies were still high, the crew were getting antsy and restless.

Not for the first time, the captain cursed the bloody economy. Some idiot had done something monumentally idiotic and as such had sent the whole idiotic thing crashing down. And the people who could do something about it were just running around in circles in response. Like the bunch of idiots that they were.

He still did not understand why they didn't just simply reset everything. Just pretend that what happened did not happen and continue. As far as Mahmoud was concerned, the whole economics thing was imaginary rubbish thought of by a bunch of idiots.

But nobody listened to Mahmoud. No sir, he was just a lowly humble captain of a ship as far as they were concerned.

Well, he was the captain of a super tanker carrying, well, a boatload of oil. But that hardly seemed to matter to the executives of Shell, the company employing him.

Reaching the bridge, he picked up the receiver and spoke into it.

Perhaps it was the quality of the connexion, but the voice at the other end sounded rather panicked and, dare he say it, scared. It took a few minutes for Mahmoud to understand what was being said to him.

'Very well,' said Mahmoud once the instructions became clear. 'It shall be done.'

Putting down the receiver, he barked out an order.

'Turn her around. We are heading home.'

'Why?' the first officer asked.

'I don't know why,' the captain said impatiently. 'All I know is that headquarters wants this ship turned around and heading home at full speed. So get to it!'

What Mahmoud and the rest did not know was that they weren't the only marooned super tanker being told to return back to base.

While the regular ships ferrying perishable goods like food and the like were allowed to reach their destination docks, the ones carrying oil were told to stop wherever they were.

After all, while food was perishable, oil wasn't. And there was a chance of the economy recovering.

But that was before every single major oilfield that supplied crude oil to the world dried up overnight.

Thanks to that, all major exporters of oil frantically placed calls to their ships to return post-haste.

Mahmoud did not know it (and mainland wasn't stupid enough to tell him) but the goods he was transporting back home was now the most valuable and expensive commodity in a world where one had to practically float a loan to buy a stick of gum.

And so, Operation Thirst had weaved its magic.

The President of the United States of America looked out into the distance as the people around him bickered on.

He wished it was still yesterday.

Because yesterday, Congress, in an unprecedented show of unity, had unanimously voted for a bill that would help with the economic nightmare they had found themselves in.

What was more, the Europeans had shown the same level of unity as well, nearly repeating the bill Congress had made verbatim.

With the Japanese expected to follow soon, it was anticipated that things would start to return to normal. Of course, the journey would be excruciatingly slow, but this was a major step in the right direction.

And then the oil had disappeared.

As of two months ago, the expert predictions that were made said that oil shortages would only be felt decades later. The world was basically assured that fossil fuels were present, and present aplenty.

Thus, humanity was caught quite flatfooted with the sudden disappearance of the liquid black gold.

The countries of the Middle East, where the biggest oilfields were, had immediately gone into lockdown. Tankers were instructed to turn around, and everyone was doing their level best to hoard and protect their stash of oil.

The one small upside to this was that the Saudis, who had till now been sitting pretty as they were the least affected by the storm created by the economy going for a toss, were panicking as well since what little of their economy that had managed to survive went up in flames. The President couldn't help but feel a small amount of schadenfreude here. They were gloating till they found out that they had gone dry.

It was only with the sudden cutting off of the stuff that the President realised how much humanity depended on oil. The thing was like a drug. And mankind was the junkie that had been forced to go cold turkey in the middle of a high.

Countries like Japan were the most affected. Having no indigenous oil source of their own, they were dependent on imports. No oil meant no heating, no electricity, and most importantly, no other imports of food. They had their nuclear plants, but you can't really eat that.

Of course, the United States wasn't any better off. The problem was that nobody here in the room realised that.

'We will be fine without the oil,' said the army general dismissively. 'After all, we have our reserves, and I am sure that our country can handle things.'

It was only thanks to his long experience in life that The President did not roll his eyes.

The analyst at the other end of the room, however, had no such life skills. Nor did he have any reason to hold back.

'Is today a special day, or are you always this stupid?' the young man asked rather rudely. 'For your information, general, you have no clue just how screwed we are. Let me put it in terms small enough for you to understand. We use up Sixteen million barrels of crude per day. Out of those, only eight million come from within the country. The other eight million come from outside. In other words, we use up double the amount we produce. And when I say, "we", I mean everybody in this country. And that would happen to include the military, which, funnily enough, happens to be the biggest user of oil in the country! Or did you think that your big ass shiny tanks run on sunshine, rainbows and unicorn poop?'

The old general wasn't going to take things lying down, however. 'So people will have to take a walk instead of getting in their cars.' He snorted derisively, 'Big deal!'

The analyst slowly brought a palm up to his hand. 'General, I suggest you stop. Just … stop. Because I am pretty sure that the collective intelligence of the entire city is coming down every time you open your mouth.'

'Now, you listen here, boy! I will not be –'

'Enough.'

The room fell silent at the tired proclamation given by their leader.

'As much as I don't like saying this, the kid's right.' The President said finally after rubbing his temples.

The analyst, who was about to open his mouth to deliver what was no doubt a smug comment, suddenly closed it when he spotted the deadly look being sent his way by The President.

The blond head of state leaned back and closed his eyes. Oh, how he wished that he could utter those two words that he was so famous for.

Problem was that he couldn't do that. With the way things were, people were technically volunteers. Of course, he used that word because he was afraid that the real term might just offend some of the members in the room. It was best not to even think about it.

'General,' he finally said. 'Let me apprise you of the situation. Fact is that we are very dependent on oil. Not just as fuel, but for other things too. For example, one of the products of crude oil happens to be lubricants. And everything that involves any mechanical movement whatsoever needs to be lubricated; guns, vehicles … everything.

'Our analyst here,' he nodded to the young man sitting there, 'has described the full situation to me before I came here. I now give the floor to him, provided that he behaves.' He sent another look at the analyst. 'The same goes for everyone here. This is far too important for petty issues.'

The analyst cleared his throat.

'As I said before, we import eight million barrels of crude per day, while another eight is produced from our oil fields. The effect all our oilfields going dry have on us are … bad. What few flights we could allow to operate before the incident have now been grounded. In addition to that, we have had to suspend all non-essential transport. That means all public transport; buses and trains. Personal transport, like cars will run as far as their individual fuel tanks will take them. After that, the people will be forced to abandon them. Ambulances, the police and fire services are still running, but they are heavily regulated now. There will be blackouts soon.'

'Blackouts?' said one random person in a suit. 'Why?'

The analyst made sure to sigh very softly. 'That would be because we depend on the oil to run our hydro-electric power plants which generate the electricity that the country uses. Without the oil the plants can't run. If the plants can't run, well, simply put, there will be no electricity.' He shook his head.

'Anything and everything running on electricity is going to die. The immediate problem of that happening will be the hospitals. With no electricity, their ICUs and other services will stop working. That means that a lot of critically injured or ill people are going to die. The same goes for premature babies. While it is true that they have generators as backup, that isn't going to last very long.'

The analyst stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts. His daughter had been delivered prematurely and was in one of those neonatal ICUs. Initial predictions for her survival had been good, even promising. But now … he suppressed the sob that was threatening to come out.

'Of course, spring has begun right now,' He said, after clearing his throat twice. 'I am not looking forward to summer or winter. Heating and air-conditioning also depend on electricity. This winter will be the bitterest, harshest and coldest we have ever seen in modern times while summer will be equally unbearably harsh and hot in many areas. There will be no heating, no air conditioning, no clean water, no manufacturing of goods, a breakdown in communications, and this is just the tip of the iceberg. I …' he paused again. 'We are heavily dependent on both electricity and oil … losing them … and so suddenly … it is unimaginable. There are probably another hundred other ramifications that we haven't been able to account for yet.'

As he paused to take a sip of water, he doubted that he could afford another glass. 'Another pressing issue is going to be the food. Procuring that will be a problem for the average citizen.'

'How so?' another person the analyst did not recognise said.

The analyst gave a strained smile. 'Our stores are located quite far from our homes. Getting to a place to buy food is going to be a problem for many, as it isn't walking distance. And all this is before our money became worthless. Oh, and I just remembered: garbage. Yesterday, when we had no money but all the oil in the world, or at least, when we thought we had all the oil in the world, cleaning that was a luxury. Now … with no oil and no money … it is an unattainable dream. It simply will not be possible.'

'What about solar power and other alternative sources? Surely we can rely on that?'

The analyst only shook his head slowly. 'We can't. To begin with, all the plants in the country that are involved in the production of renewable energy, which is basically solar, wind, or geothermal energy individually make up one per cent of America's energy demands. And that is the maximum amount. If I am not mistaken, geothermal and solar technologies make up less than that amount. Storing and transporting energy from those sources has never been feasible. And we cannot erect new plants because, well, we need oil to do that. We need oil to manufacture the parts used in solar and windmills, we need oil to construct geothermal plants, and we need oil to lubricate the moving parts in windmills. And we haven't even touched the oil requirements that will have to be met in transportation and installation. Of course, we could go for biogas, but the problem with that is space. Because you will have to use farms, that generally grow food crops. And let's not forget time. Those crops don't grow overnight.'

'There has to be some good news,' the same person asked.

'Well,' the analyst replied. 'We have reserves of exactly seven hundred million barrels. But even if we are careful, it isn't going to last for more than a year. There are going to be pressing requirements everywhere. Prioritising is going to be hell. But we are going to have to do it, and we will have to do it very carefully and very wisely. Because that is all the oil we have now. And my team and I are all of the unanimous opinion that searching for another oilfield is not advisable. We simply cannot afford it.'

A heavy silence permeated the room.

'Don,' The President said after a moment. 'What have you found out from your investigations?'

'Sir,' the same person who had spoken to the analyst said. 'Investigations are still underway.'

'Underway?' The President looked incredulous. 'What do you mean, "Underway"?! It's been two fucking weeks! You had the people responsible right there! In fact, you still have them in custody. What the hell have you been doing till now! Did I, or did I not tell you to give this your first priority? That everything else could wait? Did I also not tell you to use the directors and all the resources from the N.S.A., F.B.I., The Department of Homeland Security, the Secret Service, and the goddamn C.I.A. if you had to?'

'Indeed, sir, you have but –'

'THEN WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!' The collective in the room flinched reflexively at the sudden influx of noise. It looked like their leader had finally reached the end of his tether.

'Well,' the director finally answered, completely unfazed. 'We have been interrogating them, and agents from the F.B.I. are now having a go at them as we speak while Homeland is poring over the files along with the Secret Service. But, not only have we not found anything incriminating so far, the suspects are all proving oddly resilient.' He opened the folder in front of him. 'All of them have the same story, that they don't remember doing what they did. Either they are highly trained, which we doubt because that would represent a security breach far too large for anyone to have not noticed, or … well, that they are actually telling the truth. Additionally, the C.I.A. has not found even a page hinting at any nefarious activity or incriminating any individual terrorist or terrorist organisation. It is almost as if nothing was planned beforehand. That it was all spontaneous.'

The President frowned. 'That is strange …' he finally said thoughtfully. 'They have the same story?'

'Yes,'

'And they all have been kept in isolation?'

'Indeed. And we are considering using techniques best not talked of in this room too. That we are considering it on American citizens should prove how desperate we are getting.'

The director's frank assessment was a mark of the President's administration and the sheer stubbornness and willpower the man had. He had toiled endlessly to ensure that the various departments all worked together. The fruits of his labour culminated in a team of people, answerable only to him, overseeing all the operations going on in the various departments. They had to make sure that there is interdepartmental awareness and open communication. If it was good enough for his organisation, it is good enough here.

He was so happy with his accomplishment that he had decided to name his committee the same way he named all his pet projects: By using his surname.

The President sat there for a long moment, a curious expression of thoughtfulness on his face.

'Gentlemen,' he finally said. 'I think we should adjourn for an hour or so.' He got up and adjusted his suit. 'Don, give me that file.'

The man in question was confused. 'Mr President, are you saying that you have a lead?'

'I am not saying anything,' The President replied inscrutably. 'The file, please,' he extended his hand out for emphasis.

Handing the file over, the room watched bemused as the commander-in-chief walked out with a strange expression on his face.

'You think he knows something?'

'I have no clue,' the analyst answered. 'All I know right now is that I am hungry and they have readily available free food here. That's not an opportunity I am willing to pass up, given the times.' He hurried out.

'The kid has a point,' the old general said grudgingly, also getting up.

The President smiled as he saw the fire in the fireplace turn green.

He knew that Rutgers would come. A few moments speaking to the King of Spain ensured that the little witch would have no choice but to answer his summons. He wasn't going to stand for her saying no to him a second time. Just who did she think she was to say no to him?

He had no tolerance for her arrogance. After all, his superciliousness was enough to fill the room! He was quite aware of his ego, and was very proud of it.

'You called, Mr President?' Rutgers finally said as she stepped into the room. She had a rather surly expression on her face. No doubt the King of Spain had given her a verbal thrashing before sending her here.

He smiled, taking his time responding. He knew very well how to play this game.

'Well, Mrs Rutgers,' he said, deliberately ignoring her title. 'I have a question for you.'

Taking out the file, he outlined what the senior director of his team had found out in his investigations into the Federal Reserve.

'I find it quite a coincidence that they all have the same answers,' The President said in conclusion. 'An almost magical coincidence…'

Rutgers, who had by then adopted a serious look said, 'They sound like the victims of the Imperius Curse and a memory charm to boot.'

'I'm sorry, what curse?'

'The Imperius Curse,' Rutgers replied. 'Here, I'll write it down.' She took a pen and paper from the desk and scribbled the name.

'Well, that makes sense,' The President said when he saw the word. 'I thought it was "Imperious" as in "stuck-up". Clearly, it isn't'

'A common misconception amongst many of our students as well,' Rutgers replied with a smile. Adopting a more neutral expression, she continued speaking. 'The Imperius is one of the three Unforgivable Curses. It subjugates the will of a person and puts them under the total control of the caster. A person under the Imperius is said to be "Imperiused", and will do and say whatever the caster tells him to do.' She looked around. 'It's best I show you.'

Moving to the window, she opened it, and summoned a squirrel she spotted on a nearby tree.

'My transfiguration skills are crap,' she said, as if that explained everything. 'Now, watch:'

Plonking the still surprised squirrel down on The President's table, she pointed her wand and said, 'Imperio.'

The President watched, fascinated, as the animal in front of him did things no other in its species could ever do. He doubted he would ever forget the strange and bizarre sight of watching the rodent dance a slow waltz with his pen.

'According to the law, casting this or any one of the other Unforgivable Curses on another human being will land a person in prison for the rest of his natural life.' Rutgers said, as she lifted the curse. 'And with good reason too,' she added with revulsion.

'What are the other two Unforgivable Curses?' The President asked faintly.

'There is the Cruciatus Curse, which is quite an effective torture curse as it causes unimaginable amounts of pain.' Rutgers replied steadily. 'I have heard cases of people actually going irreversibly insane from prolonged exposure to the curse. A good example would be Frank and Alice Longbottom, a British magical couple from a prominent family. They are still in the long-term mental ward. Please don't ask me to perform that curse, as I cannot do it.'

The President, having regained his composure, raised an eyebrow. 'And why not?' he asked.

'To cast it, you need to consciously want to cause someone pain. You have to revel in it, want it to happen.' Rutgers said in a low voice. 'It is not something I can bring myself to do. Even to a squirrel. The Imperius was a stretch as it is.'

'You said that there were three,' The President said after a long moment of silence. 'What is the third?'

Rutgers grimaced. 'Avada Kedavra.' She said in a whisper, as if afraid to say it too loud. 'The killing curse … it kills instantly. There is no surviving it. If it hits any part of your body, you are instantly dead. In the curse's history, nobody has survived being hit by it. Well, there is one survivor.'

'Oh, and who is that?'

'The current King of England.' Rutgers said dryly. 'He survived it as a baby … Managed to reflect it too!'

She cleared her throat. 'And speaking of which, I have some news for you: a few days back, the King of England just declared himself the Emperor of the newly named Wizarding Empire.'

There was a long silence as the Minister of Magic looked at The President expectantly.

'Well,' the Muggle finally said. 'That's … good news, I suppose.'

The Minister was aghast. 'Do you not get what I just said?!'

'Yes,' The President replied calmly. 'I did.'

'This is clear proof that he is involved in our problems!' she practically screeched in response.

'I am sorry,' the man replied, not sounding sorry at all. 'I was not aware that you had managed to figure out who had cast this,' he consulted the paper in front of him. 'Imperius Curse already.'

'Of course we haven't –!'

'Then you have no proof that he is involved.' The President interrupted with an air of finality. 'I am aware that the King of Spain and many of his peers are probably left powerless thanks to this new political move, the news of which I appreciate, by the way, but do not expect me or this country to be involved in your politics. Violence, especially of this nature, is counter-productive, and bad for business. Thus a nuclear strike of all things is not the appropriate response. It certainly isn't a response whatsoever no matter what the situation is. I will not be responsible for the beginning of the end of the world. Now, I don't want to keep you waiting, I am sure you have a lot of work to do. Good day.'

Sitting back, he gave her a look of clear dismissal. Amanda had no choice but to turn around and head back to her office, seething.

The day will come when that Muggle realises just what he was dealing with. And when that day came ... she would be there to laugh in his face.

Harry leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face as he processed the documents in front of him.

Once the Muggle economy had failed and the oil had vanished, the general consensus was that they would now be more accepting to wizard rule, having no choice but to recognise The Wizarding Empire as a nation in its own right.

Unfortunately, they refused to see reason. Even the deaths of a majority of their royal and imperial houses hadn't changed their aggressive stance.

'How dare they threaten us like this,' Belby blustered. 'What sheer arrogance! They did not even bother to initiate a dialogue. They have even refused to recognise your imperial majesty's sovereignty!'

'Indeed,' the Lead Unspeakable, now overseeing the cohesion of the various Department of Mysteries into one organisation, said sombrely. 'They have been quite aggressive too. Promising to, "bomb us back to the stone age" with a "flick of a button" if we don't part with our gold and swear allegiance to one of them.' He picked up the document in front of him and leafed through it. 'I believe they wish us, all of us, to give our allegiance to the Muggle King of Spain. Also,' he shifted uncomfortably. 'They have demanded that we depose you, your imperial majesty, and hand you over to them to "face justice".'

That statement was met with cries of universal outrage and shock throughout the room.

Harry held up a hand, silencing them all.

'I take it that everyone here is opposed to this?' he said mildly.

Not waiting for a response, he soldiered on. 'Well, so much for diplomacy. Here I was thinking that we could still reason with them.' He sighed. 'It was a foolish hope on my part, I suppose.'

Robards was quick to speak. 'It never is foolish to hope for a peaceful solution, my liege.'

'Indeed, sir,' The Minister of Magic, now the Viceroy of Avalon (as the area that was known to the Muggles as Britain) said. 'That they chose the path of violence is their fault.'

Harry did not respond for a long time.

'Very well,' he finally said. 'Thomas, you have everything ready?'

'Yes sir,'

'Good,' Harry grimaced.

Seeming to brace himself, Harry then addressed the room. 'Then we shall have a vote: Those in favour?'

Everyone raised a hand. It was clearly unanimous, even if the members had disapproval clearly writ on their faces.

'Then I give Hellfire my approval.' He said with distaste clear in his voice.

His proclamation was met sombrely by the newly named Imperial Council.

It wasn't something they really wanted to do.

But it was necessary. The Muggles had drawn the line in the sand, so to speak.

It was time to take a stand.

'Teddy!'

James practically burst through the common room of his and his brother's private quarters. He paused upon seeing that they had company.

'What is it, James?' Edmund asked.

'I just heard over the wireless that dad's going to be on soon.' James said after nodding at Lisa, Edmund's best friend. While they did share many of their friends, the brothers got along quite well with two diametrically opposite people who couldn't really stand each other. Lisa practically hated Matthew, James' best friend, and the feeling was mutual. The only time those two got along was either when James and Edmund were present.

'Well, lead on then,' Edmund said throwing down the cards carelessly and standing up. He jumped back with a curse when the deck exploded spectacularly, earning him an amused glance from his brother and a glare from his friend.

The three children entered James' room where a few of James' friends were lounging about, grouped around the wireless.

James was quite an outgoing person, meaning that despite his status as Prince, he had a rather large circle of friends who all knew each other to a certain extent. Almost all of them were from Slytherin with a few from the other three houses. Of course, Edmund was there to ensure that there were few, if any, useless hangers-on who had decided to befriend his brother because of his title. The useful hangers-on were left alone, though.

Edmund, on the other hand, tended to form friendships with people from all the four houses. Perhaps it was his luck, but the people he knew generally did not know each other. Meaning that unlike his brother, he did not have a large group, but many smaller groups of friends. He had no time or energy for hangers-on: Useful or useless.

'And now, a public announcement from his Imperial Majesty'

The room fell into a hush at the announcement.

'My dear subjects,' Harry's clear voice filtered out through the device. 'It is with a heavy heart that I speak to you today.

'As all of you know, our world was rocked by a dramatic change in the political climate. What was once an international body made up of different nations beholden to Muggles, has banded together to form a free independent Empire, led by wizards, for wizards. This is truly a joyous occasion.

'However, the Muggle world has had their share of excitement as well. However, their events haven't been as glorious and freeing as ours.

'The Muggle economy is vastly different from ours. I will not go into detail, but suffice to say that there were some pitfalls and shortcomings that the Muggles failed to foresee. And due to this lack of foresight, their economy has blown up like a house made from a deck of exploding cards.

'Additionally, they also relied heavily on a substance they call crude oil. This source was a finite one, and it has, as was inevitable, gone dry. This is something that they, again, failed to foresee.

'Now, at this point, I am sure that many of you must be asking, "How do Muggle matters concern us?" well, the answer is simple. They are now crippled. Their undying greed, combined with their knowledge of us and our resources will be enough to have them demanding that we fix their problems.

'Messages have already come in from various Muggle sources demanding that we part with our gold, and sacrifice our assets and time to pull them out of the hell they have created by themselves.

'They have been soundly refused. Gone are the days where we wizards and witches would bend to their will. Gone are the days when we would do whatever those creatures tell us to do.

'Our ancestors made a mistake once in allowing wizardkind to be fettered to those Muggles. Now that we are finally free, we can stand up to this abuse. And we can show them what magic can do.

'And so, I henceforth formally declare the empire at war.'

The statement had the whole room erupt in whispers.

'It is finally time cast off the shackles once and for all. It is finally time to be free of the taint of these Muggles and their polluting ways.

'However, some sacrifices must be made. Tomorrow's edition of the Daily Prophet will contain information of different magic-safe zones. Families have seven days to evacuate to those areas if they haven't done so already. Anybody requiring assistance is advised to contact their ministry. Those found in these zones after the requisite time is up will be compulsorily moved without their possessions and will be liable to a fine of one hundred Galleons. Additionally, zones that have been classified as Muggle-heavy are now restricted to all civilians as the Imperial council has deemed them too dangerous for wizardkind to wander out in.

'I realise that this probably will be hard on you all, and so, I ask that you take heart and be strong. Dark days might be looming in front of us, but they will soon pass. And they will pass as quickly as humanly possible. That is something I, as your emperor, assure you. Thank you.'

The announcement of the Emperor was all that the pupils and teachers could talk about the following morning as they waited eagerly for the newspaper to arrive.

In addition to the full list of the different zones deemed safe for magical habitation, other changes were also put into effect.

Chief amongst those was the revoking of the Statute of Secrecy and the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery that was soon going to be put into effect in ten days' time.

'Did you know about this?' One of Edmund's housemates asked curiously.

'No,' Edmund replied. 'Dad does not tell us everything.'

'Oh. Well, I am glad that this is finally happening.'

Edmund nodded. He and every one of the first years remembered their lessons in Muggle Studies so far. They were thus fully aware of the pollution that Muggle technology was creating, the changes to the environment and the harm it presented to the natural world. Additionally, Edmund had heard from older years about the dangers of their nuclear energy.

But that was nothing compared to what they had learnt from their history lessons. Every single student in the school had been educated on the ways Muggles had enforced their rule on wizardkind.

In short, according to the populace, the coming war was going to be a battle of independence.

It was time to show those Muggles what wizards can do.

I hope elmoryakhan is reading this, and is happy with the cameo they requested.

Till next time then!

46. Rise of the Wizards

Something a bit early for you guys ...

Now, I'm off to go and enjoy the day.

Tomorrow's my birthday, bitches!

You want me to do what, exactly?'

Harry looked at the Muggle Prime Minister from behind his desk with amusement and a little bit of surprise.

'Address the country, sir,' the Prime Minister repeated patiently. 'We, my advisors and I, feel that it will help boost the country's flagging morale. Between the economic meltdown and the sudden loss of oil, this is something we badly need.'

'How would you expect me to do that? I don't know if you know this, but we aren't having a candlelit discussion because I feel any sort of romantic affection towards you, Prime Minister.'

The Prime Minister did not even smile at the joke. 'As you know, sir, we have enough power for basic running of the government for seven days. We have decided that in five days from now, we are going to restore some of that power to select public areas to broadcast one last message out. We shall make use of that time to speak out to the populace via television. In addition to your speech, I and my advisors will speak of the plan we have made for coping with this apocalypse. I never thought I would say this, but it is a good thing that we still have kept the tradition of Town Criers alive. They shall be utilized to bring the message of that transmission to the people.' He sighed. 'After that, the blackout will be permanent. It is all the power we have.'

'Why not conserve that for later,' Harry asked mildly. Not that he cared.

'We need to be able to get the people into some semblance of calm before the blackouts become irreversible. As it is, coordinating our police forces is going to be a major problem' The Prime Minister looked to be on the verge of tears as he said this. 'We shall also be getting any and all international messages out in the meantime by restoring those channels for as long as possible. Thankfully, we were able to coordinate with other countries and they all agreed on this small window to facilitate civil communications. Diplomatic and military communications will carry on for the rest of the day after that. At least we can get our remaining troops home.' He sighed, 'Provided they can make it home, of course.'

Harry sat back and considered the Muggle. While it was true that the Prime Minister was still under the Imperius, he wasn't surprised that the man had independent thoughts of his own. After all, the Curse only told him to ignore certain things. Things like the fact that parliament had never met even once after that fateful day.

Harry mulled over the idea the Muggle had presented him.

The candlelight hid the sinister grin spreading over the Emperor's face from the eyes of the Muggle, though it did nothing to hide his eyes that glowed green in the gloom.

'Very well,'

The Prime Minister frowned for a fleeting moment. Then the curse kicked in, telling him to ignore the malicious tone coming from the monarch, and his face cleared up.

Harry stood with Daphne, surrounded by his usual guard detail as the train slowed down to a stop.

Years ago, with the full cooperation of the various ministries of the soon-to-be Empire, Harry had sanctioned a committee to identify areas that were magic-safe. The goal was that such zones would be safe for magical folk to freely practise magic and be safe from Muggles in the event that the Statute of Secrecy was irreversibly broken and the existence of magic was known widely to Muggles.

The committee had quickly decided that not only was the anonymity of the location important, but also the wards surrounding it.

Because of this, almost all the magical areas present in Muggle cities were almost immediately discounted. While they were superbly hidden in many cases, the problem was that the wards surrounding them just weren't satisfactory to the board. They felt almost unanimously that being surrounded by a large number of possibly hostile Muggles aware of magic was the last thing any sensible person wanted or needed. It was all fine when they didn't suspect a thing, but when they were looking for it … it was best to be far, far away.

Nevertheless, they had investigated each and every single location, intent on providing a solid case for the exclusion of any place within a Muggle city. They used the various schools dotted around the soon-to-be Empire as a benchmark, reasoning that there would be practically no other area with wards as strong as theirs. To make the cut, as far as the committee was concerned, the magical area should have sufficiently powerful wards to repel a large number of Muggles and be equal to if not greater than those schools. This, they felt, would make it all above board and result in an almost negligible amount of objection from the various ministries.

And so, all magical buildings and zones were slowly closed down and their businesses were moved to one of the new all-wizarding towns created within each country once the Empire was unofficially formed.

This naturally caused the magical populace to slowly follow. After all, it made more sense to live closer to work, in a place where you did not have to hide your magic.

By the time Harry had sent out the order declaring all Muggle-heavy zones unsafe, there were barely any magical families living outside the safe zones.

And the final stop for the Hogwarts Express was no exception.

It had taken some extra work, but the railway had been successfully diverted miles away from London to the magical town built near Cambridge. With the Ministry building and Diagon Alley also setting up there, that town was soon going to become a bustling city. Construction of a castle fit for an emperor had already begun.

The Emperor cast a glance at his first wife. Somehow, Daphne had managed to get for herself the title of "Empress" while conferring Ginny and Gabrielle with the title of "Queen".

Something told him that the three women were now having a nice private war of their own. It was Daphne versus Ginny and Gabrielle. And Harry was certain that the two younger women were outmatched.

As the train doors opened and the pupils disgorged, Harry shrugged again. That wasn't his problem anyway. As long as he wasn't involved in their crap, he was happy. His wives were happy in his company and he was happy in theirs. He was smart enough to figure out that it should be more than enough for him. One look at the way they interacted with each other was enough of an indication.

It still amazed him how women deal with each other. Just by looking at the way they would smile and say sweet things to each other, one couldn't be faulted in thinking that they were the best of friends. It took some amount of training and experience to notice the veiled insults, backhand compliments and the barely-there sarcasm. Though there was some tolerance and, dare he say it, fellowship between the three.

Harry could now see the wisdom in having a nearly all-male court. At least there the lines were clearly drawn. If a bloke didn't like a person, he simply didn't speak to him. The most he would do is send the occasional glare towards his enemy. That was it. Of course there was some amount of political backstabbing going on, and general trickery, but men paled in comparison to women.

Although, some of the hostilities had died down now that both Ginny and Gabrielle were pregnant. At least he hoped so. He could never tell.

'Dad, mum!'

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by the voices of his sons. Smiling, he embraced his eldest while Daphne took care of the younger one.

'You have grown,' Harry noted after hugging the younger one.

In an exaggerated motion, he put his palm on the top of Edmund's head and slid it towards himself.

'I'm taller than him,' James piped up only to have Edmund scoff, starting a minor argument.

Harry looked at them thoughtfully. 'I don't know … the two of you look the same to me.' With a playful expression on his face he continued. 'You both are still short.'

He chuckled when the two bickering brothers looked at him with mouths open in indignation. 'No we're not!' they said in unison before starting to argue with him.

'Eh, whatever,' Harry said with a casual wave. 'I think it's time to go.'

As he Apparated away with Edmund, Harry internally congratulated himself on yet another successful attempt at getting the two to support each other instead of bickering.

The Emperor smiled throughout dinner. While meals with his three wives together were … entertaining, they could not match the liveliness that Edmund and James brought with them as they enthusiastically described their year at Hogwarts. He wondered if they knew that they were repeating stories told during the winter break.

Not that Harry had not been inside the school or seen the kids there. He still dropped in from time to time whenever his busy schedule was free to speak to the N.E.W.T. students for a few minutes. After all, he was one of the key figures in the war against Voldemort, and his knowledge of various defensive spells was quite extensive. And he did like to teach.

'I have been meaning to ask you something.' Ginny's voice broke through his thoughts. 'I heard about your announcement to the Magical Federation of Northern America … can I see your new Patronus?'

Harry leaned back. 'Sure,' he shrugged. With a waggle of his fingers, the tiger Patronus burst forth.

Gambolling around the room, the magical construct paused for a moment to preen at the admiring looks sent its way before fading.

'Fascinating,' Ginny finally said. 'I thought your Patronus would always be a stag.'

'Actually,' Gabrielle's voice, unlike Fleur's, wasn't as heavily accented. 'I hear zat the Patronus can change form if the caster wishes it. It takes a lot of concentration though. However, I have never heard of a Patronus with a crown before.'

'Well,' Harry replied with a smile. 'That was something that took a fair bit of trial and error, and massive amounts of concentration, but I managed it.'

'It seems a bit … much.' Ginny commented.

'Yes,' Daphne said before anyone could reply. 'But that is the point of the whole thing. People need to see that Patronus and think of The Emperor. The Emperor's Patronus has to reflect his imperial status. After all, anyone can make a Patronus if they are skilled enough and try hard. A Patronus with a crown … now that is new.'

'I take it that you suggested it to him then?' Ginny asked with a polite smile.

'Of course I did,' Daphne replied just as lightly. 'It was one my better ideas.'

'I like it,' Edmund piped up, with James nodding in agreement.

Harry smiled at his sons. 'Why thank you.'

The table lapsed into silence for a moment before Ginny spoke up again. 'But, why a tiger?' she asked. 'Why not choose a lion? Surely they are more majestic and thus befitting of your status.'

Harry snorted. 'I have had the pleasure of studying the behaviour of both lions and tigers in my travels and I find that the picture people portray of lions completely inaccurate. Everyone thinks that lions are symbols of bravery, courage and honesty. The reality is that those beasts are nothing but lazy cowards who sleep most of the day away, and bully smaller animals and steal their prey. They hardly do their work, and take the credit for the hard work put in by others.'

He took a sip from his goblet. 'Now tigers, on the other hand, they are truly majestic. Graceful, beautiful and deadly: those are the adjectives that come to mind when you see a tiger. Every step they take is poetry in motion. Tigers truly embody bravery and courage. They are also quite cunning. In fact, I hear that tigers generally come out on top in skirmishes between them and lions.

'So knowing what I do about these two big cats, I choose the tiger over the lion.'

Ginny raised an eyebrow. 'This coming from Gryffindor's descendent?'

'I have no problems with my ancestor choosing a lion,' Harry replied readily. 'He was, unfortunately, misinformed. A failing of the times, I am sure. Besides, lions do have that allure about them, that certain je ne sais quoi. But I still prefer tigers.'

James took that moment to belch loudly, earning him reproving glares from the three women as Harry hid his smile behind his hand.

The next day had been quite a surprise for Harry when both his sons had very seriously asked for a meeting after their morning exercise.

Bemused, Harry ushered them into his study.

'Well,' he finally said once they were all inside. 'What can I do for you gentlemen?'

What followed was one of the more amusing meetings in Harry's life. James and Edmund had started off with a very formal presentation of their report cards followed by a discussion on the subjects and the teacher teaching those subjects. Harry had listened to them with an appropriately grave expression, inserting his thoughts now and then, while chuckling internally. It was quite something seeing such serious expressions on such young faces.

Then things became interesting when they started asking about the upcoming war.

'Well, first off, yes it is going to be quite brutal, and it is going to start soon,' Harry said in response. 'However, I am sure that it won't affect your lives that much, or the lives of the people, if I can help it. Furthermore, I am hoping that it won't take too long that you will be of age to join in.'

'Oh,' James said after a few moments. 'So what's the plan?'

'Well, you will have to wait and see,' Harry replied with a grin. 'I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise!'

'Now, I think you should go outside and enjoy your holiday. It is a lovely summer's day. The Quidditch pitch and the pool beckon. If not that, then I am pretty sure that your homework is making a call of equal if not greater volume.'

Once he was alone, Harry sat back with a sigh. He had not missed the stubborn and determined looks his sons had given him as they left.

They were far too young to…

He groaned. Great, now he was beginning to use the same tired old excuses. The problem was that he saw little choice here.

Then again, things were different. They weren't teenagers yet, and he was when he first heard that excuse. Also, they didn't have a stupid prophecy hanging over their heads.

Yes, things weren't the same.

Satisfied with that justification, Harry got back to work. He had a worldwide event to organise, after all.

Harry looked around him with a fair amount of interest.

He shifted a bit in his wheelchair. Despite the various charms placed on it to ensure his comfort, he still felt a little self-conscious in the contraption.

Yes, he wanted to stick it a bit to those Muggles, and he especially enjoyed the pursed lips and disapproving look the Prime Minister had given him, back when he had the free will to do so, but the thing was really gaudy. There was far too much gold and leather for his tastes.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Flamel, clad in a suit similar to his, silently sidle in.

His attention was called away by the camera man who signalled that they were ready.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation coursing through his veins.

It was time.

'The past few months have been a trying time for the world and more specifically for us as a country.' Harry said, as soon as he was given the cue.

'Team one, reporting in'

'As you all are aware, our troubles began with the economy suddenly collapsing because certain individuals placed in high positions and trusted with the financial matters of the country and indeed the world decided to betray the expectations placed on them.'

'Team two is ready.'

'While these individuals were brought to justice and steps were taken to offset the problems cost, we were hit with another tragedy. One that we could not control: and that was the loss of all our oil.

'Dark times are approaching this country, and the world, as humanity prepares for a life without the comforts that we have till now taken for granted. Comforts like electricity, proper lighting, food, and proper medical care among many others are now something out of our reach.'

'All teams in place. Feed has been redirected and we are waiting for the signal.'

Harry paused to take a breath. By now, his operatives would have ensured that certain people were watching him, and only him.

'However, these are just the beginnings of the hardships you all will be facing.'

He could feel the shock coming from the room. Not only was the sentence not in the script, but the tone behind it was frankly chilling. The more discernible ones were also disturbed by the change in pronoun.

'You see, for a long time now, there have been two types of humans present in the world. The differences aren't much, except one group can control an arcane force while the other can't.

'This arcane force is known as magic. Those who control it are known as witches and wizards, while those who don't are known as Muggles.'

The Muggles behind the filming started showing signs of cutting off the feed in response to the King not following the script (in addition to sounding like a raving lunatic). However, they were prevented in doing anything else when their bodies froze up, thanks to the wizards who were standing by watchfully.

Meanwhile, Harry continued speaking without interruption.

'Now, there used to be a point in history when these two species used to live with each other. But then Muggles started showing signs of jealousy. This jealousy and hatred soon reached such heights that wizards were forced to go into hiding.

'But then you Muggles used that as an excuse to gain control over the wizards. You preyed on our vulnerability, using it to enslave us to your whims. You used our resources, and our magic to keep yourselves in power.

'Now, I am sure that none of you Muggles believe me, you must think I am mad!' Harry said with an insincere laugh. 'However, I do assure you, magic is quite real.' Saying this, he levitated the desk next to him and swiftly transfigured it into various animals and objects.

'Of course, I realise that this might also be construed as a parlour trick, something done through special effects,' Harry said conversationally, as he casually got up from his wheelchair. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Prime Minister shaking his head as the Imperius curse left him.

'But you can ask the dear Prime Minister here about the true potential of magic and how it was used on him and his parliament to turn The United Kingdom from a democracy and a constitutional monarchy into an absolute monarchy. After all, if it wasn't for magic, parliament wouldn't have unanimously voted to repeal all laws restricting the Monarch's power.'

Smiling, Harry started walking towards the balcony of Buckingham Palace. With nary a gesture, the camera was levitated to follow him. He wanted every Muggle to see this.

'But we are not done,' Harry said as he reached the balcony. Behind him, he could hear the rest of the Muggles within being subdued. 'You see, I am now the Emperor of the Wizarding Empire, and we, that is, the Empire and I, are sick and tired of you Muggles. Initially we had hoped for, and strived to achieve, a peaceful solution, one where both Muggles and wizards could coexist. But once the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, the King of Spain and the heads of quite a few other Muggle royal families and states decided to band together to assassinate me with the goal of actually killing everyone in my family, including my children as they did not want wizards to be anything else other than slaves, it was decided then that a peaceful solution was but a dream. You Muggles are not willing to share. You only want to control.'

Turning away from the balcony, he looked into the camera.

'And that is why, regrettably, we are going to have to destroy you.

'In case you haven't figured it out by now, I am a wizard, the only one who was fortunate enough to cast off the shackles placed upon my ancestors and fellow wizards. And so, I lead my people, my subjects into freedom: Freedom from you all.

'We even gave you a second chance. We offered a hand out in peace when your oil disappeared and your economy collapsed, hoping, that at least then, you would see reason. And yet, you slapped it away, demanding that we all bow down before you regardless of the fact that you had nothing to stand on to back up your threats. You even dared to demand that I be turned over to face what you call justice for the supposed crime of being a wizard!

'So we have decided to declare war. You want to fight us? Go ahead. We are going to make you burn.'

Noticing the light go off, Harry turned his attention to one of the television screens that was, until now, showing his speech.

Instead of his face and the balcony of Buckingham Palace, the screen showed the Royal Palace of Madrid in all its glory. The main focus of the camera was not the palace, however.

'That's our cue. Light 'em up, boys!'

The person standing in front of the Palace gave a horrible smile, and turning around, whipped out a wand.

Suddenly, a large serpent, made entirely of fire, erupted from his wand. Harry watched as the camera tilted up to get a good picture of the fiery maw as it opened wide and lunged towards the palace. A few shakes of the device told him that it was being set down on a stand as the cameraman Apparated out with the exhausted caster.

The last thing seen before the feed was cut off was the Fiendfyre spreading out of the palace and into the city proper as everyone present there screamed in terror.

The scene then shifted to another angle, far above the city, showing the fire as it engulfed everything in its path. Many demonic animal shapes could be seen amidst the flames, racing along and burning all in its wake.

Hellfire had just begun.

The goal of this operation was simple: use a curse that could bring about mass destruction on major cities within the Wizarding Empire. It would go a long way in reducing the numerical advantage Muggles had over wizards.

Though Harry personally found it distasteful, he had to agree with his advisors that it was tactically a sound idea.

When it had been created, it was decided that Hellfire would be carried out as a last minute measure should the Muggles start getting aggressive towards the Wizarding Empire. Harry had hoped that it would never see the light of day.

However, when the Muggles refused to accept the Empire as a nation and started to get aggressive, making statements like how they could destroy the magical people with a touch of a button should the wizards refuse to comply with their demands … well, then all gloves were off.

It was high time that Muggles see the full might of magic, and that they weren't the only ones capable of destruction on a massive scale.

The Muggles had their nukes, Wizards had Fiendfyre. While one could be done at the touch of a button, the other could be done with a few words and swishes of a wand.

Of course, there were disadvantages in using such a volatile spell.

The first issue was that the spell did not discriminate between magical and Muggle. That problem was easily taken care of by evacuating all magical people away from those cities. It was the main reason behind the magic-safe zones.

The second disadvantage was that of containment.

But the architects of that plan had also come up with a solution for that. After a lot of study, the Department of Mysteries had come up with a ward that would be able to divert and suppress the fire.

It was this ward that flared up around the city, containing the flames. The ward then started contracting, snuffing out the fire as it did so till all that was left of the city was a large charred smoking circle.

Harry looked into the camera. 'Be afraid, Muggles, be very afraid; for you have just seen beginning of the rise of the wizards.' With a gesture, he crushed the camera.

And thus, Hellfire had been completed. Closing his eyes, Harry spoke.

'Get the druids to start blessing the area and cleaning it of the residual magic. We have a lot of work to do.'

'At once, sire.'

Harry turned around. Smirking, he watched the expressions on the Muggles' faces.

'I hope you enjoyed the show, Prime Minister.' Harry said sinisterly. 'Know that this is the result of your actions. Had you not tried to kill us, this would not have been necessary. And had you lot seen reason when we gave you a second chance, we would not have had to resort to such drastic measures. It seems that you Muggles only understand violence and force. A pity…' He nodded to one of his guards. 'Finish them.'

Nicolas Flamel watched with glee as the first steps in open warfare against the Muggles was taken. He knew that the smaller cities would be getting a similar treatment. The volatility of Fiendfyre made it impractical to use it all the time, so they had established other means.

Mandrakes with sonorous charms placed on them were soon going to be unleashed in some cities, while containers of Nundu breath was to be released over others. They had thought of releasing the beasts themselves, had they managed to capture one live. Giants were another option, as they were quite good at flattening things, as were dragons and chimaeras.

These methods were not as effective as Fiendfyre. But they would have to do.

Hopefully then the Muggles would surrender. But knowing them, Nicolas personally doubted that.

He was a bit annoyed that his and The Duke of Azkaban's idea of using dementors was shot down. Those creatures would have been the best at the job as they were invisible to the Muggles, and completely immune to bullets. However, The Emperor had replied with a flat and emphatic "no" stating that they were not going to risk dealing with more dementors than necessary. The Emperor had then expressed a deep displeasure at the only known colony of the creatures in Azkaban. He was not going to contemplate the possibility of wild dementors roaming the land. Needless to say, the council was quick to agree after that.

'I hope you liked what you saw, Nicolas.'

The voice of the Emperor jerked the ancient alchemist out of his thoughts.

'Yes, my liege.' Flamel replied with happiness, his face lit up from the green flashes of the Killing Curse in the background. 'My wife and I certainly liked it.'

'I am glad.'

'Yes, they deserved everything they did to my son … and to Mark.'

'Yes, to Mark.' The Emperor was silent for a while.

As soon as the last of the Muggles had been disposed of, he spoke again. 'There is one matter to take care of.'

Flamel, who was examining the scenery outside, turned back around. 'And what is that sire?'

He saw a flash of steel from the corner of his eye.

'Your betrayal,' Harry said harshly, pushing the sword of Gryffindor further into the gasping alchemist's body.

'Did you think that I did not know the role the two of you played in that assassination attempt?' he asked with a murderous gleam in his eyes as he looked into the shocked face of the older wizard. 'It didn't take me long to find out, you know.' He twisted the sword eliciting a gasp from the skewered man. 'Your usefulness was the only thing that stayed my hand till now. And since you have passed that usefulness…' he yanked the sword out, watching dispassionately as the man fell to his knees.

As Nicolas Flamel slowly slumped to the ground, an expression of peace fell over his face as he closed his eyes. Death might be reaching for him, but at least his life's ambition was now in completion.

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. Shrugging, he gestured to Hammond.

'You have her in custody?'

'Yes, your imperial majesty.'

'Finish her then.'

'At once, sir'

With one jerk of the sword, Harry had all of Flamel's blood off the blade. Calling two house-elves, he had them clean out the room.

Banishing the sword, Harry made his way inside. While most countries were going to be unable to mount much of a resistance (and he had no doubt that they would respond with violence – only to be crushed by the military) China and the United States of America would be their largest problem. They did not have enough resources to take care of those two countries immediately yet.

As it is, he had the people living in Canada, along with the recent immigrants from the Magical Federation of Northern America moved out to minimise any threat posed by the United States of America.

Thinking about those immigrants from the Federation always bought a pleased smile to Harry's face. He never thought that the plan would have worked this brilliantly.

One of the first missions he had sent his newly made military involved the taking over of Gringotts in the Federation. With the help of their own goblins (who really had no choice in the matter, thanks to being bound to Harry) the military had managed to sneak into the city below the bank. After killing every goblin and burning the city to the ground, they had then proceeded to run the bank using goblins from the Empire as they slowly but steadily drained all the vaults and mines dry.

Nobody suspected a thing, largely thanks to a new "service" they introduced where the gold would be delivered at the counter.

The populace was more than happy to avail of this service as it cut down on the hassle of physically going down there in those carts. Not having to visit their vaults meant that they did not see it steadily becoming emptier and emptier till there was not even a measly Knut left behind.

As soon as Fire Sale was executed, the goblins were ordered to close shop, collapse the mines, and come back to Britain with the rest of the gold.

Harry then gave his little speech, outlining his offer.

The results were quite impressive. Nearly ten per cent of the population was absorbed into the fold of the Empire a mere week after his speech, as immigrants came in droves.

And he was fair to them. He delivered on all the promises he had made in his speech. That attracted more immigrants.

By the time Harry publicly revealed magic, studies showed that a good eighty five per cent of the Federation had joined the Empire.

Harry was not worried about any threat that the Muggle nations would pose. The Muggles had been crippled already. It would buy the Empire enough time to clean up house before they moved on them.

China would fall first. They, like the rest of the world, did not really know what was happening right now. It would make things easy. Then America would follow.

He wasn't unaware of the possibility of a nuclear attack. However, he wasn't concerned, despite having deliberately sent the video to the Americans.

They should be finding out the results of Impotence right about now, if they hadn't already.

Smirking, the Emperor Apparated out, followed by every single wizard and witch in the palace.

As soon as the last person had disappeared, a signal was given out through enchanted mirrors.

That was the wizarding military descended upon the city, wands blazing.

The President of the United States of America gaped at the television screen in front of him with shock.

In agreement with the other countries, he had also restored power in a limited capacity for a last attempt at communication before the whole world lost connectivity permanently. Having sent his message out to the people, he had repaired to the Situation Room to finish off the last of the overseas communications as they went through the list of things that had to be taken care of.

That was when things started going bad.

It started off with the television screen set on the side going abruptly blank. Wondering what was going on, the occupants were startled when it came back to life. However, it was not showing repeats of the President's speech.

'Did he actually say "magic"?' one of the advisors said with a bemused expression on his face as they watched the King of England give his speech. It did not take them long to find that this was superseding local channels. 'What, is he going to start pulling rabbits out of his hat now?' The rest of the room except for the President chuckled.

They stopped laughing soon enough when they saw what happened next.

'This – this can't be … real!' the same advisor said, now in a stupefied tone.

'What negotiations was he talking about?' another man asked.

The room erupted into a furore as everyone started talking amongst each other.

'Sir, do you know something about this?' the Secretary of Defence asked. He had noticed that the head of state was very quiet with an unusual look of resignation on his face.

His question caused the focus to shift to the President.

The President took a long time to answer.

'Yes,' he finally said. 'I am aware of the existence of magic.'

Getting up, he ignored the reactions of the room as he walked towards a portrait hanging unobtrusively.

'Get me Amanda Rutgers,' he said in a low voice.

The rest of the room watched with disbelieving eyes as the man in the portrait actually bowed, and walked out of the frame.

'I just called the Minister of Magic of the Magical Federation of Northern America,' he said as he sat down heavily on his seat.

Minutes later, Amanda Rutgers was standing in the room watching the Statute of Secrecy go up in flames both in the literal and figurative sense of the word.

'I hate to say "I told you so",' she finally said once she regained her senses. 'But I definitely did tell you so.' She stared at him for a long moment before adding on a 'Mr President' at the end with a humourless grin.

'Who the hell on earth is this woman?'

Amanda turned to the Muggle who had asked the question to the President. 'Amanda Rutgers,' she said, 'Minister of the Magical Federation of Northern America.'

'So this magic crap is real?'

'Yes it is,' Amanda said lightly and a bit dismissively. Turning back to the President, she continued. 'Magic is real, and there is a whole world out there of people who can wield it. And currently, a good portion of that has been controlled by a madman bent on destruction of mankind.'

Still looking at the President she continued, now in acidic biting tones. 'Of course, all of that could have been stopped earlier had you done what his majesty had asked you to do,' she paused again for a long beat, 'Sir.'

Amanda's upper lip curled in disgust. Not only was she angry with the Muggle, she was also unhappy with the Emperor's little Patronus-speech. Thanks to that, a good chunk of the populace was gone, including all the old families.

'She is right,' silent so far, the King of Spain decided to make his presence known.

Striding into the room, he said coolly, even though his eyes were haunted. 'I hope this is enough proof?'

There was a long moment's silence. Then the President nodded.

Sitting down, he looked at the Secretary of Defence meaningfully. 'I believe we must take drastic action now.'

The man nodded slowly. The video was enough to convince him, if nothing else.

The President then turned towards the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. 'Order a nuclear strike.'

Everyone in the room watched with fascination, and a little fear as the Chairman picked up a tan coloured telephone and spoke into it. This would be the first time in history a nuclear strike would be ordered after the two bombs that had fallen over Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Over the decades since then, presidents had come and gone, the software had been updated, renewed and streamlined every few months, while the codes had been changed every day.

It seemed that all that work boiled down to this one point in time, making this truly a momentous occasion. Sure, the circumstances behind it were horrendous, but the occasion was still momentous.

The big main screen in front of them lit up, awaiting the authorisation codes from both the President and Secretary of Defence.

The President took out the plastic card containing the authorisation code almost reverently. Thanks to the recent problems that had plagued the nation, the codes had not been changed since that fateful day when they found out that they had no oil. There just wasn't time.

Carefully, he typed in the characters, triple-checking the card and the screen. He wanted to get it right the first time.

Once the Secretary of Defence had punched in his codes from across the table, both men pressed the enter key at the same time.

There was a moment's silence…

'Um sir, we have a problem,' said the person at the other end of the secure line into the Chairman's ear.

But his words went unheeded, as everyone was fixated on the screen in front of them, or more accurately, the message across it.

Make Love not War

The Chairman did not know what he found more irritating. The neon pink letters or the 60s Peace sign they were under. In the end, he decided that it was the psychedelic background. He hated hippies … now more than ever.

'Sir, I think we might have been compromised.' The technician babbled in his ear. 'The codes seem to be working fine, but I think that the problem is the program that they are supposed to access has been altered. I think it is a virus, I have no idea how the hacker –'

'Can you fix it?' the man asked testily, cutting across the babble.

'Yes, sir, but it will take some ti–'

That was the last they heard as the line died at the same moment the room plunged into darkness.

The President slowly brought a hand up to pinch his nose. They had used up the last of the electricity. This naturally meant that rooting the virus out would be impossible.

You can't do anything when you can't turn on the computer.

He frowned in the darkness as something occurred to him. He turned his head to where he last knew the King of Spain was.

'What was the … emperor babbling about in the video about offering a second chance and us slapping it away?'

Battery operated torches clicked on at that moment, illuminating the room dimly. They were more than enough to show the shifty expression on the old man's face.

The man sniffed. 'He sent us a message ordering our surrender and demanded that his so-called "Empire" be recognised by us normal folk.' He sneered. 'I told him that there was no way we were going to negotiate with terrorists and to surrender or be reduced to glass.'

'And this without telling me?!' the President practically roared. Standing up, he advanced on the monarch. 'Who do you think you are that you can do this without my consent?'

'The King of Spain,' the man replied arrogantly.

'You mean the former King of Spain,' the President replied with a sneer. 'Because judging by what I just saw, your subjects are dead, or dying, and Spain is nothing but a flaming tapa.' He gave the former monarch a look of disgust. 'And even if you are still the King of Spain, those missiles that you oh so blithely used to threaten someone with, happen to be American. The United States of America does not bow to Spain.'

Breathing heavily, he sat down. 'You may have doomed us all. We don't have the money or the resources to survive, much less start a war. Those wizards hold the cards, and instead of consulting The United States, you go on half-cocked and incite them to declare war on us.'

'And what would you have us do?' Amanda replied.

The President looked at her as if she had said something stupid. 'Did you not understand what I said, Mrs Rutgers? I just told you that you should have consulted us first.'

There was a long silence following the outburst. The President did not want to admit that he probably would have done the same thing. After all, until two minutes back, he thought they had nuclear weapons, and therefore the upper hand.

Amanda Rutgers herself was stunned. It was at this point she realised the depth of the planning that had gone down to get to this moment. The Emperor had done a superb job, hiding what he was doing, holding his cards tight to his chest till the time was right.

It was quite the salvo too. The opening move was quite devastating. Amanda suspected that those Muggles had been under the Imperius for quite some time. She wondered how long it was.

And then while the Muggle world was reeling under the repercussions of the sudden inflation, the oil disappeared. The small team that she had sent to investigate the oilfields within the country came back almost immediately with reports of heavy magical involvement.

The enchantment used was quite a complex and powerful one. It combined a vanishing charm with a permanent transfiguration to render all the oil underneath useless. What hadn't been vanished had been fully transfigured into water.

There was nothing that could be done to reverse that transfiguration as the water had already dispersed. Moreover, half the runes had burnt themselves out. It was a classic tactic used by warders to hide the true nature of disposable enchantments.

A person inclined to look at the bright side of things would remark that at least the water tables around the area had increased.

Of course, there was a strong possibility of that person being shot dead by the Muggles if he ever were to say that out loud.

The complexity of the runes placed suggested months, if not years of work. Add in the fact that every source of oil had been seen to…

Looking back on it, she supposed that it shouldn't have come as a surprise that The Emperor had found a way to dismantle the nuclear warheads. She suspected that he had used another Muggle or a group of Muggles to reach that goal.

But she hadn't ever thought that there would be a possibility that magic could be used for destruction at such a massive scale.

The uncontrollable nature of Fiendfyre made it a rarely used spell. The few times the curse had been used almost always resulted in the caster's death. Even when used in the open, whoever who started that spell always tried hard to control it.

But this … it was the first time the spell had been cast, and the casters had then left the spell to go unchecked. Additionally, the plumes of flames that she had noticed on that aerial view of the city suggested that there were more than one casters of the spell. To top it all, were the wards that stopped the fire in its tracks. They had clearly researched ways to contain the fire before it ran out on its own.

This wasn't the actions of a deranged madman. No, she was dealing with a thoughtful, creative and strategic thinker.

'Now what?' someone asked.

The Muggle had voiced the thoughts of everyone in the room. With a thrill of fear, Amanda realised that there were probably even more cards in The Emperor's deck, just waiting to be played out.

'We have a massive clusterfuck here, gentlemen.' The President replied as he stood up. 'I suggest we retire to plot our next course of action.'

Lighting his torch, he made his way outside. He only hoped that someone else out there had the ability to launch a nuclear strike and had done it.

He never thought he would ever consider looking at the possibility of North Korea or China launching nukes to be a good thing.

Harry sat in his throne and gazed outside the window contemplatively.

The man heading Operation Impotence was quite brilliant. Not only had he made sure that his team reached their primary objective in time, but had done one better.

Neither Harry nor the rest of the Imperial Council had thought to look for Muggle computer hackers with strong anti-nuclear opinions.

But Paulson, the man in charge of the team based in America, had. After some discrete inquiries, he had located such a Muggle.

Thanks to a judicious application of a few discrete spells, the Muggle had been installed speedily into the heart of the American Muggle government with all the appropriate clearances.

From there, it was only a few minutes' work for the Muggle to load the computer virus he had designed into the system, bypassing all security measures put into place.

If Harry understood what Paulson had reported of the Muggle's explanation, the program would replace the regular process installed that would give the Muggles access to their missiles.

This measure, coupled with his original plan was more than enough to make the Muggles incapable of using those weapons.

Of course, he was aware that the operation was a bit of overkill considering that the results of Thirst and Fire Sale were enough to make sure that those missiles would never leave their launch pads. After all, they needed electricity to do the targeting, even if they had the fuel and could afford to launch those rockets.

At any rate, the Americans were the only Muggle country that had an idea about what was happening in the world and who was truly behind everything. The rest of the Muggles were in the dark.

The only reason Harry had decided to broadcast what he was doing there was to show the King of Spain what he thought about the old Muggle's demands. As he had taken care to ensure that they wouldn't have any means to retaliate, the action carried no risk.

China, however, was a different matter altogether. The country was brutally anti-wizard, and was not afraid to use magic to detect any magical presence.

The Chinese wards were one of the best and most accurate in detecting any kind of performed magic. The Muggle government had somehow managed to figure out their working long ago before they had deposed their emperor and the magical government.

The Muggles had used those wards against the magical population, swiftly exterminating anyone and anything that had magic.

Those who were smart enough or lucky enough to survive the initial waves of executions made their way into the prefecture of Hong Kong, where they immediately exited the country, seeking refuge in various countries all over the world.

Other wizards had the foresight to smuggle out indigenous species with them. Their love for the plant and animal life made taking more perilous routes an easy decision.

Harry was a bit irritated that he hadn't been able to properly infiltrate the country.

But, it wasn't too much of a problem.

In this day and age, almost no missile was launched through line of sight, as computer programs were far more efficient. And those needed electricity, which was no longer a problem, thanks largely to Thirst.

Even if they decided to emulate the way they dropped those bombs over Hiroshima and Nagasaki, they still would have the problem with fuelling a plane…

Harry tapped the armrest of the throne.

Perhaps it would be a good idea to keep the Muggle-repelling and Unplottable wards up for the moment. At least until China falls.

Though, he doubted that they would have the time. The breakdown in communications would ensure that the only way they would find out about what was going on beyond their borders would be through handwritten letters and word of mouth.

That should, hopefully not happen for a long while yet. Harry doubted much would get past the magical animals now patrolling the borders of the country and their wizard handlers (not to mention the wizards themselves).

Regardless, they will have to move quickly.

Daphne watched as Harry hashed out the final details of their plan with the Imperial Council.

She rarely sat in on these meetings, content to let her husband run the show as he saw fit. He was quite good at it.

However, today she had an agenda.

Daphne surreptitiously cast her eye on the two women that formed a part of the council.

Not only were these two a part of the Council, the advisory body to the Emperor, they were also part of the Entourage her two sister wives had made.

It wasn't a Queens' Court, per se, as only the ruler could make a court of his own. Something Harry really had no desire in forming beyond his family and very close friends as he was more than happy with the Imperial Council. It was only a sort of social circle, however, with the two young Queens' patronage, it was a Court in everything but name.

Queen Guinevere (and Daphne really had to hand it to Ginny, she did pick a really good regnal name) was the figure that the court practically revolved around, despite the presence of Queen Gabrielle.

The fact that the original Guinevere was Queen consort of the kingdom of Avalon meant that Ginny did not even need to put in a numeral after her name.

Ginny had taken it upon herself to act like King Arthur's wife. Or at least, what historians thought the ancient monarch's wife was like; which was the very personification of compassion.

While Daphne really couldn't care less about that (her title of Empress Consort gave her a far superior rank, after all) what she did care about was how her sister wife had decided to do that.

Ginny had decided to choose the Empire's handling of the Muggles as a springboard.

The original plan was to exterminate any and all Muggles, and make sure that the only type of human that existed in the Empire was the magical kind.

Ginny, on the other hand, wanted to convince Harry to show them mercy. To let them live out their lives on their own.

And that was just unacceptable.

The naïve idiot failed to grasp the fact that leaving the Muggles alone would give them opportunity to strike back. Oh, they might not do it today, or tomorrow, or even in the next decade. But a time would come when they would rise up against them.

That was something that they had to prevent at all costs.

What was more, the little redhead had also decided to try and be sneaky about the whole thing. She had tried to keep the fact that she had two of Harry's Council members in her favour.

Harry really had no need to care about the allegiances of his Council because as emperor, he did have supremacy and thus whoever he favoured was therefore the most powerful.

But he was ultimately a man. And he could be influenced.

Daphne knew of the younger woman's plan of action. She wanted to use her influence to subtly induce the Emperor into seeing things her way.

It was kind of cute, really, almost adorable.

It was also terribly executed and much too elaborate. Ginny had yet to realise that as one of Harry's wives, she could very well influence the Emperor directly instead of resorting to such cloak-and-dagger operations.

As much as she hated to use the label, it was so typically Gryffindor.

'The Centaurs have consented to neutrality, and they are happy to accept our offer of expansion.' the sentence broke through her thoughts.

Her husband raised an eyebrow. 'I take it that there were no difficulties?'

'Surprisingly not, your imperial majesty,' the astonishment was clear on the council member's face.

'The memories you provided were quite valuable, sire.' Another person commented.

'Yes, well, I did have some experience with centaurs,' Harry said modestly. 'Though that was more along the lines of what not do say around a centaur and how not to say it. They are quite a touchy lot. Regardless, it was a good thing we spoke to Firenze first.'

Harry set aside the folder. 'Now, we move onto the topic of the Muggles.'

Seeing her opportunity, Daphne spoke up well before Ginny's lackeys could. 'Your imperial majesty, if I may? I have something I would like to share with the council and you.'

Catching the attention of the council, she neatly folded her hands on her lap. 'I feel that we should rethink our initial plans regarding the Muggles.'

'Oh?' Harry said with a raised eyebrow.

'Yes,' she said simply. 'Now, I am aware that we are going for a full extermination, and I have no quarrel with that plan, however one cannot help but think that perhaps we should consider a new strategy? What if, instead of just killing them all, we offer them the chance to live in servitude?

'The advantages would be great. We could certainly use the additional muscle to do tasks not fit for wizards. We may have house-elves, but with the Muggles being as plenty as they are, getting even a small portion working for us would be immensely beneficial. The males would be well suited for physical labour, while the females would be quite suited as nannies and maids. They would be a fitting solution to the plan your imperial majesty came up with to help bolster our population.'

A long moment of thoughtful silence followed her speech. Out of the corner of her eye, Daphne could see the bewildered expressions on the two. Her plan wasn't what Ginny was pushing for, but it was close enough.

Not that it mattered much. She already had the rest of the council hooked onto her idea. It would make proposing a new idea that less likely to be received.

'Her imperial majesty raises a good point.' The Lead Unspeakable grunted. 'As it is, those Muggles whom we captured through the Magical Child Protection Act are quite useless now.'

Harry sat back contemplatively.

Daphne did raise a good point.

As soon as Harry had become King, a new idea had been suggested on the back of the Magical Child Protection Act. The Lead Unspeakable had suggested that they keep a database of the Muggle parents of the children that fell under the purview of that bit of legislation with the aim of making it easier to track future births and being prepared for those before they happened. There was even talk about taking these Muggles to a secure facility and forcing them to mate.

Then the research division of St Mungo's had got wind of the idea.

Ever since the artificial womb that was instrumental in Edmund's birth had been a success, Healers had been researching improvements. After all, there always was room for improvement.

So far, they had managed to create a perfect artificial womb without requiring any tissue from a person. This was a far cry from Teddy's birth, where they had used the entire womb of the dying mother.

They had then experimented with the gestation time.

It was long known that humans gave birth far too early compared to other primates because of evolutionary needs.

The end result was babies that were practically helpless compared, at least, to primates and other mammals. They were utterly dependent on caregivers for their welfare for the first few months of their lives.

The reason behind this early gestation was that by the ninth month, the energy demands of the foetus exceeded the amount of energy the mother could supply.

But now, they no longer had to depend on that.

Trials were carried out with animal embryos. They were found to be successful.

So they moved onto magical human births.

On the 21st of December 2013, a baby girl was born after twenty one months of gestation in vitro to two very happy parents.

The couple had requested their names and the child's name be withheld from any records, swearing the Healers in charge into secrecy, so nobody, not even Harry knew who they were. All they knew was that the girl was born having reached all the developmental milestones a child of twenty one months was supposed to have.

The minute the head of the research division had found out about the idea, he sent the just-published article along to the Lead Unspeakable.

And so, it was decided that instead of keeping the Muggles, they would simply extract all gametes from them, and use those to produce new viable offspring. It would certainly be more cost effective as they wouldn't have to waste resources and time on caring for them while they reproduced and the women gave birth.

Besides, the children born wouldn't need their nappies changed. Their increased intelligence meant that toilet training was much easier to pick up. And they were also capable enough to start walking within a day.

However, there was one disadvantage to this method. There weren't enough people available to take care of these children, even if they weren't as dependent on caregivers as regularly birthed infants. Using the biological parents for this purpose was out of the question as the Muggles were unable to survive the toll the spells used to harvest their gametes took on their bodies, and house-elves could only do so much.

So when Daphne suggested using Muggles…

'Muggle slaves…' Harry finally commented thoughtfully. 'We will have to ensure they are fully under our control so that they cannot negatively influence the children.'

'Indeed, sire,' the Lead Unspeakable replied. 'We could use magical compulsions, charms and other devices. We just have to choose the method.'

'They can also be used for other jobs.' Marcus Belby commented. 'We can use the Muggles for things that would normally be time-consuming for wizards.'

'They could be like house-elves. Only, non-magical…'

'We will have to keep them content though,' Daphne said. 'Not happy, just content … after all, only malcontents breed revolt. So there will have to be a code of conduct to make sure that they aren't treated too badly. Their standards of living needn't be as good as ours, but it shouldn't be deplorable. I say it should be equal to that of the house-elves. In fact, I say that we make the treatment of elves and Muggle slaves a written set of rules. While how we treat our magical helpers is an unwritten law, making such a document unnecessary, in the interest of equality, it would be a good idea. Also, people will need to know how to treat their Muggle slaves.'

'No,' Harry finally said. 'There will be no personal Muggle slaves. If we are going to use Muggles, they will be only by the government. I do not wish for our population to become dependent on Muggles.'

He looked around the room with a hard stare. 'In fact, any such slaves should be made impotent first. They will not be reproducing. They will be the first and last of their kind. This is the Wizarding Empire. Muggles have no place here.'

The finality in his tone had everyone agreeing without question.

Throughout the debate, Daphne observed Ginny's two little henchwomen. She smiled to herself upon noticing the look of concealed frustration on their faces.

Oh, how she enjoyed playing these kinds of games.

She had wondered for a long time why it had felt like the right thing to do to have Harry include these two women in. After all, one was a super-fertile being of lust (not love, unlike what many thought) and the other came from a family that had inexplicably churned out seven viable children that for some reason inspired the same reaction in her husband as when he gazed at her.

It was too bad that they were now pregnant. Gabrielle's baby boy was expected in a few weeks, and Ginny's girl was expected in three months.

Daphne smiled to herself. It would be quite interesting to see how much their children doted on their mothers compared to dear Aunt Daphne.

The fun was just beginning.

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47. Expansion

The next few years were years of massive expansion for the empire as they started cleaning house, so to speak. Muggle civilisation suffered a sharp decline with the loss of their primary resource. They struggled to survive without many of the amenities they had slowly become accustomed to and dependent on in the past few decades. Diseases that were once considered minor inconveniences were now potentially life threatening due to the unavailability of proper medical care and attention. Mortality rates rose with people dying at much younger ages.

It made them easy prey.

Thanks to the communications breakdown, the news of magic's existence and the new order did not spread so quickly. It gave the empire added anonymity and allowed them a greater freedom of movement.

They started off with Avalon, as Britain was now known as. Like Fiendfyre, they swept across the length and breadth of the isles, dealing with all Muggle presence quickly and brutally.

A small taskforce would first Apparate into a Muggle city or village and announce the state of things via the Sonorous charm. Muggles would then be given an ultimatum: surrender or die.

Over the next twenty four hours, the wizards would wait at the designated point for the arrival of compliant Muggles. Those that came were immediately shipped off to a facility where they would then be magically bound to serve the Empire.

The rest perished where they remained.

Various methods were used to destroy entire cities. Some metropolises were burned to the ground in the same way Madrid was dealt with. Druids would then come in and start healing the land of dark magic, inducing the growth of plant life and turning what was once a black scar on the ground into a place where Mother Nature could flourish.

These places were then either left to grow wild, or would have fauna (both magical and non-magical) introduced into it. Certain areas even had centaurs setting up dwellings.

Of course, Fiendfyre wasn't the only method employed. At times, depending on the circumstances, dragons or giants would be employed to flatten towns and villages, egged on and supervised by wizards. These areas did not require druidic intervention, and so were left behind for later. Muggle repelling wards were used to ensure that any survivors did not escape the area, making it easier for the wizards to root them out later on. That is if those Muggles managed to survive without any food and water till then.

Other cities experienced the cry of more than a hundred adult mandrakes with Sonorous charms placed on them, while still others had fast acting poisons released into the water. Nundu breath was also released once they managed to shorten its lifespan to within a few hours while increasing the potency.

It took them the better part of a year to fully finish with Avalon.

Once the Emperor was satisfied with the state of affairs there, he focused his attention to the rest of the world.

They started off with Europe and headed east.

Europe took a relatively shorter time as the viceroys of the various viceroyalties (as the former ministries were now called) had already started work, destroying all forms of Muggle governance and razing the capital cities to the ground.

Daphne's suggestion in keeping the Muggle slaves content had paid off massive dividends. Not only were they content to do the work set for them, they had easily accepted the state of things. Of course, part of this could have been due to the potions they had been feeding them, although, it was largely attributed to the fact that the Muggles living under wizard rule were actually better off than before. Their wizarding masters had made sure to keep them clean, well fed, and disease free. They might not be living in the lap of luxury in their nearly Spartan quarters, but at least they weren't cold and hungry, as was the state they were in before the wizards came.

Another positive effect of this was that word had gone out to the other free Muggles. While most did not believe it, there were still others who did. The end result was plain for anyone to see. There were more converts as they moved from city to city.

Of course, at the same time, the resistance they met with did increase in some areas. But it wasn't something a well organised military couldn't handle.

The only time wizards were came under direct fire of the Muggles was when the envoys Apparated into the city. After losing a few good people to unexpected attacks from snipers (mainly a few military personnel that had managed to take up residence at the time) it was decided that they would use the Patronus charm. Muggles couldn't shoot dead an ethereal animal, after all.

By the time the Imperial Military had reached Constantinople, after having swept through Europe, the empire had a large force of enslaved Muggles tasked with building new cities and towns over the remnants of the old Muggle settlements. Those not involved in civil works were used as caregivers for the next generation of magical people that were soon going to be born. Of course, they were all kept on a tight leash by their supervising magical masters to ensure nothing went awry. Strict instructions were given to the supervisors not to trust the Muggles under them despite the spells placed.

Not that Edmund and James could say much about how it felt. Still in school, the two of them were far removed from all the action going on so far away.

While their father spent the last two years abroad commanding his forces, and their mother had gone to assist him, the Emperor and Empress always made it a point to be at home during the summer holidays to spend time with their sons and family. They would also be at home when the school closed for the winter. While most of the winter holidays were spent in the myriad of parties and being busy, the Imperial Couple would make it a point to spend Yule with the family only.

Regardless, both Edmund and James felt a little left out. While it was true that at school they, like the rest of their classmates, barely, if ever, saw their parents, it felt different knowing that both their parents were out there in some far-off land vanquishing Muggles.

This absence was felt even more as unlike their schoolmates, both princes were either required to attend one function or the other as Imperial Princes of the Empire, or travel home for the weekend to watch over their six year old half-brother Richard (Gabrielle's son) and their five year old half-sister Lily (Ginny's daughter) as their mothers did not trust anyone else.

Thankfully, Gabrielle and Ginny had elected to move to the new Imperial Palace. The Potter ancestral manor had become the Emperor's personal retreat and would always be open for him whenever he returned for the holidays. This ensured that the two brothers did not have to come into a house bereft of their parents.

At the same time, both Edmund and James recognised the importance of their parents being abroad to ensure that the Empire was stable.

That was why they were looking forward to their upcoming N.E.W.T exam results. As soon as they got their qualifications they would be able to join the Imperial military. After that, they hoped to impress their father enough to take them directly under his command. And after that …

Well, Edmund was eyeing Australia while James was thinking of Asia.

However, they would miss little Richard and Lily. They had grown fond of their little siblings, and the feeling was mutual. Richard had become James' shadow, following the older boy wherever he would go. While James did like the attention, there were times when he really wished the kid would go annoy Edmund instead.

'James! James!'

The couple froze in the middle of what they were doing. Sitting stock still, the boy glanced at his girlfriend.

'I don't think he is going to find us here,' she whispered in his ear.

James looked at her disbelievingly. 'We are in my room! Of course, he's going to find us!' he whispered back furiously.

The approaching patter of feet proved his point.

James mentally groaned as she removed her hand. They were just beginning to move their relationship in a new direction too! Why couldn't the twerp have waited for at least a few more minutes? At least until they had finished.

Hurriedly, he started to fix his clothes. He froze again when he heard heavy banging on the door.

'James,' the unmistakable voice of his half-brother sang out. 'I know you're in there!'

'Hide!' he hissed.

Nodding, she got up and silently hurried into the expansive walk-in wardrobe

Buttoning up his trousers, James took one critical look at his appearance and the room. On a split-second decision, he cast localised notice-me-not charms in certain areas. It would prevent the little bugger from noticing anything.

Flicking his wand at the door, he said, 'Come in,' in what he hoped was a normal-sounding voice.

The door opened to show one of the most adorable looking boys to have walked on the earth.

James rolled his mismatched eyes at the angelic smile. Between the straight locks of gleaming blond hair, the perfectly straight nose, the clear green eyes and the big sunny smile that could be used to light a room, his little half-brother was adored by any woman who happened to look at him, while men would soften their gazes, unwilling, yet unable, to resist his charms.

Nobody really knew how much of a troublemaker the kid was.

'James, look what I found!' Richard said as he brought his hands around.

James jerked back at the hissing black adder. Case in point, he thought to himself.

'Where on earth did you get that?' he asked the boy, eyeing the snake.

'I found it in the gardens!' Richard replied brightly. 'You won't believe it, but I can talk to it!'

'Is that so?' James said sceptically.

'Yup,' Looking at the creature, Richard began hissing. 'This is my brother,'

The snake, which was content to gaze at its surroundings, turned its attention to James. It flicked its tongue a few times. 'My lord,' it hissed. 'It is an honour to meet you.'

'Well met, my friend. How did you manage to come here?' James hissed back easily, shocking his younger brother.

'I have been here for a few weeks now,' the snake replied. It looked around once more. 'This place is much better than the last place … many tasty animals.'

James hummed noncommittally. 'Indeed.' He hissed.

'I like him!' Richard piped up in English. 'Can I keep him?' he asked, gazing at James with his signature puppy-dog look.

'No,' James said flatly.

'Pleeeeease?' Richard wheedled in response, adding a pout as he tried to make his eyes larger.

'That expression has never worked on me before,' James said drily. 'And I don't see that changing. "No", means "no". This is not up for negotiation.'

He sighed again. 'And quit looking like a downtrodden puppy. Besides, I am sure the snake would be happy outside. How would you feel if someone took you from your house and put you in a small room?'

'I wouldn't like it,' Richard finally replied in a very small voice, bewildered at his elder brother's suddenly harsh tones.

'The same goes for the snake. Isn't that right?' he asked the adder.

The reptile nodded vigorously. That was enough to convince Richard to return the snake to its natural environment, though the boy looked forlorn at doing so.

James sighed in relief. Richard was far too young to know how to take care of another living thing. The fact that he was holding the reptile tightly was a testament to that fact, if the myriad of animals that had either died or were fortunate enough to escape from the boy's dubious care weren't. It was a good thing that adders weren't naturally aggressive, and that snakes in general were even more docile amongst Parselmouths. Otherwise, he was sure that Richard would have been bitten long ago now.

Picking up the snake, James walked over to the large window in his expansive room. 'I hope you can manage?' he hissed to the snake.

The adder looked at the tree branch. 'It is satisfactory, my lord.'

Grunting at the snake's form of address (it was something all snakes did after he and his brother had done the ritual that allowed them to use Parsel magic) James extended his arm till it was near the branch. The snake swiftly slithered down his arm, bridged the gap and settled on the branch.

'Will I be able to speak to you later?'Richard hissed from behind, looking hopefully at the snake.

The adder gazed at the boy. 'Of course, young one,' it finally said. 'Call for me, and I shall come.'

'I shall instruct the humans to stay away from you. Stay out of their sight.'

'Of course, my lord,' the snake hissed back. 'I have been doing so for quite some time now. He,' it pointed its tail at Richard. 'Found me.'

'Very well then, farewell'

The snake turned around and disappeared swiftly.

'Since when can you speak to snakes?' Richard asked suddenly.

'Since forever,' James replied with a smirk. 'Teddy can do it too. So can dad. The language is called Parseltongue and people who speak it are called Parselmouths.'

'Oh,' Richard pondered it for a moment. 'What about mum?'

'I doubt it,' James replied. 'We are Parselmouths because of dad. We inherited the talent from him. Neither your mum nor mine can do the same thing. Aunt Ginny too cannot speak to snakes.'

'What about Lily?'

'She might be able to do that, yes.' James said after a moment's thought. 'I mean, if you can do it … for a long time there, we thought that the two of you couldn't, but now …'

'Oh,'

'What's with the disappointment?' James asked suspiciously.

'Oh nothing,' Richard said, looking innocent.

James slowly pinched his nose. 'You were planning on scaring Lily with the snake, weren't you?'

'No,'

From the tone itself, James could tell that the real answer was a "yes".

'Fine, whatever,' James replied. 'I don't know why you insist on harassing Lily, especially her friend Susie. I thought you would have learnt your lesson by now, especially after last time when they hid your stuffed tiger.'

'Tommy!' Richard suddenly yelled. 'I forgot Tommy!'

With that he raced out of the room.

'He's cute,'

James turned to his girlfriend, who had emerged from the wardrobe by then. 'Don't let him hear you say that,' he said in amusement. 'He'll pout and say that he is definitely not cute … which, come to think of it, is pretty cute.'

'Who's Tommy, by the way?'

James chuckled. 'His stuffed tiger,' he rolled his eyes again. 'Little bugger carries it around wherever he goes. I have seen him have actual conversations with the toy. He insists that the tiger is real.'

They were interrupted once again when a House-Elf popped in, making both teens jump.

'Dobby,' James said, quickly recovering. 'What is it?'

'Dobby has been asked to tell young master that master and mistress have arrived.'

'Mum and dad have come home?' A smile broke out on James' face at the news. 'That is much earlier than expected! I shall be right over.'

The elf looked slyly at his girlfriend. 'Should Dobby announce the presence of young master and his … friend?'

'No!' James said quickly. 'No, that is fine, Dobby, she was just leaving.' He turned to her, and mouthed 'Sorry'.

'As young master wishes,' now openly smirking, Dobby disappeared with a pop.

'He is my, uh, personal elf,' James said by way of explanation.

She just smirked. 'We'll call him that.' She quirked an eyebrow, 'And what was that all about? Embarrassed to be seen with me?'

'No, it's not that!' James sputtered. 'I, uh,'

Smirking, she cut him off with a kiss on his lips. 'It's fine,' she said. 'I was about to leave now anyway.'

Adopting a serious expression she looked at him. 'Now that your father is here, I think it is high time you told him as you promised me.'

James swallowed. 'I will … soon.' Seeing her about to open her mouth, he cut in. 'You can be assured of that.'

'Good,' she finally said after looking at him for a long moment. 'I will not stand another day of being your wardrobe girlfriend … even if I get the chance to look through your underwear drawer.' Sidling up to him, she whispered huskily. 'And that also means that we won't ever be able to … finish what we had started when your little brother came in…'

Not giving him a chance to talk, she sidled past him and walked out of his room. A muted whoosh could be heard a few moments later signalling her departure.

Adjusting his clothes and reapplying the charm, James hurried past the palatial hallways of the Imperial Palace, following his girlfriend's footsteps to the fireplace.

Emerging in the reception room of the family home, the seventeen year old made his way towards the ballroom where, judging by the sounds, everyone was.

'Ah, finally, the last of the clan has arrived.' The voice of his father cut through the chatter in the room.

With a beaming smile, Harry made his way towards his son.

Happy to see his father again, James grinned in response.

The two men embraced, heartily thumping each other on the back.

'You have grown,' Harry said teasingly as he regarded his son. 'About bloody time,' he winked. Suddenly he paused, raising an eyebrow as he looked at the boy up and down again.

'Now where is that brother of yours?'

James regarded his father. After so many years of hoping and wishing, he had finally reached his dad's height. Well, he was a few inches short of it, but he had hopes overshooting by next year.

However, he knew he did not come close to the presence his father commanded. He wondered when he would be able to achieve that.

'Edmund, there you are, come over here.'

As his elder son made his way over to him, Harry reflected on the changes his two eldest boys had gone through over the years.

Both of them had grown into strapping young lads. Edmund was an inch taller than he was, standing at a towering six feet four. He had also done away with the wild hair colours (something Harry found that he missed) preferring to stay with the more natural colours like his current choice of blond. However, the boy did like to keep his eyes in unusual colours (he had gone for violet for the day).

James too had grown into a fine lad as well. Just a hair shorter than his father, he always had a mischievous spark in his eye. His thinner face, very much like Harry's was quite different from Edmund's distinctive heart shaped face, but no less attractive. Harry had heard quite a few stories about both of them at school. Stories that he really did not want to think about.

'My fellow wizards and witches,' Harry said once both his sons were standing next to him. 'I thank you for coming today and helping me organise this surprise for both Edmund and James. And it seems to be quite successful, as you all saw from the look on their faces when they stepped into the room, not to mention how underdressed James is.' he smiled at both his sons as the other people in the room chuckled.

'Today is a day of personal significance to me as a father. It is the day that both my sons here have finished Hogwarts and are now ready to step into the world as accomplished wizards.' He raised his glass. 'To Edmund and James!'

Moving to a side room, James quickly changed into more appropriate garb before stepping out into the party. Aside from his mother (who was the first person to greet him after he stepped out) Aunt Astoria and Uncles Draco, Fred, George and Neville, most of the adults were people he had seen in his father's court. In addition to that, there were many of his friends, who had evidently been called beforehand to arrange for this surprise.

He certainly wasn't expecting this, as he hadn't got his exam results yet. It was a point that he had brought up with his father when he found the man in a semi private nook.

'I'm not worried about that,' Harry had replied with an easy smile. 'I am confident that you would have done well.'

'But what if we haven't?'

'I doubt either you or Teddy would have done so abysmally as to have to repeat a year. I know you two well enough, give me some credit.' His father had admonished with a smile.

Taking a sip of his whisky, Harry continued. 'The two of us will be proud of you no matter your results. We have enough faith in our sons that you will have studied hard enough to pass at the least. This faith is bolstered by the fact that you have done quite well in your exams over the years. So even if we do expect high marks, we won't be disappointed in the least as we know that whatever you have scored, you got after putting your soul into it. Of course,' he added with a shrug, 'If you do manage to get Outstanding in all of your subjects, we will be quite thrilled.'

Listening with half an ear to his friends talking, James let his thoughts drift.

'Miss me?'

Turning around swiftly, James' eyes widened when he saw his girlfriend standing there.

'Sorry, I took so long,' she said apologetically. 'But I was getting ready,' she gave her dress robes a bit of a flourish as she said that.

'That's –' he cleared his throat. 'That's not a problem, you look lovely.'

And she did. He had never felt so speechless at the sight of a pretty girl in years. He thought he had outgrown that failing by the age of fourteen.

'So, when are you going to have that chat with your dad?'

'Who is going to be chatting with whom?'

At the sound of his voice, the teenagers turned to look at Harry.

'Your Imperial Majesty,' murmured James' friends and girlfriend.

Harry spared them a gracious nod and speared his son with a curious look.

'And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to, young lady?' he asked warmly as he looked at James' girlfriend inquiringly.

'Lady Rosaline Wesley, your majesty,' she said respectfully with a small curtsey.

'Rosaline …' The Emperor trailed off thoughtfully as he examined her, making her feel as if she was being x-rayed. 'Ah, you must be Fred's daughter.' He stated, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

'Indeed, sir,' she replied quickly.

The Emperor hummed. 'Thought I recognised your hair,' turning to James, he opened his mouth to say something.

But before he could say anything, he paused again as he gave his son another once over. This time both his eyebrows crept up to his hairline.

James had not given it much thought the first time around, but now he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with his father.

'Well, I am sure that you young people would want to be far away from us old folk,' Harry said, unknowingly cutting James off before the boy could ask his question. 'The games room is at your disposal.'

'What about the pool area?' James asked.

'I suppose that would be all right,' Harry said slowly.

'No offence, dad, but the games room intimidates everyone. Especially after that huge head you put in there.'

'The – oh you mean the basilisk head.' Harry's said in realisation. 'Well,' he said modestly, 'I wanted it in my study, but it wouldn't fit. Thing is practically ten feet long! The games room was the only place large enough … and your mother vetoed the ballroom.' He sighed. 'Actually all three of them said no.' the surprise in his voice was noticeable to James.

'You were going to put it in the ballroom?' James asked incredulously.

'Yeah,' Harry replied brightly. 'I was thinking of putting it on that far wall over there.' He indicated the area with the hand holding his glass. 'Either there, or right above the fireplace in the dining room, or above the front doors in the entrance hall or opposite to the fireplace in the reception room or alternatively, the pool area. It would have looked good in one of those places. But they unanimously shot down all five suggestions. Unanimously! So it's in the games room.'

'I am going to have to side with mum on this one,' James finally said. 'That thing is scary!'

Harry scoffed, 'Nonsense! You think that is scary? Hah! You should have seen the real bloody thing. It was –'

'– sixty feet long,' James interjected, good-naturedly rolling his eyes. 'A thousand years old, and you killed it at the age of twelve.'

'With only a sword!' Harry added in overly dramatic tones. 'And don't forget the hat.'

'You killed a sixty foot basilisk at the age of twelve with only a sword and a hat, sir?' asked one of James' friends.

'Yes I did,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'And a bird … mustn't forget the bird. Of course, that was one of many things I did in the school. Ah, I remember my time at Hogwarts,' he said reminiscently. 'Exciting times, you know? Yes, those were exciting times ... never a dull moment.'

'Anyway, I am sure you kids have better things to be doing instead of listening to tales of days gone by,' Harry nodded brusquely at them and swept away.

'Why doesn't your dad just write an autobiography or something?' Rose asked curiously.

James smiled at his girlfriend. 'I asked him that once, you know. Can you believe that he never thought of the idea? He was actually surprised! Then he told me that he was far too busy living his life to write about it. Anyway,' he turned to the group. 'Follow me.'

'Can we go to the games room first?'

James' shoulders slumped at this. 'Does everyone want to go?' he asked with a tinge of hope in his voice. He sighed silently when they all answered with a unanimous "yes".

'I give up,' James finally gasped.

Harry, who was quite a few paces ahead turned back.

'What, so soon? Merlin, the two of you have really sad stamina! I could run faster and longer when I was your age!' He didn't even sound out of breath as he lightly jogged back to his son. 'It's a good thing that you stopped now, actually.' He added, coming to a halt in front of his panting son. 'I was about to turn around and prevent you from killing yourself from a heart attack. At least your brother has the good sense to know when to quit.' Grasping the boy's arm, he pulled him in a walk. 'How many times do I have to tell you to walk it off?'

'So what's her name?' Harry said teasingly after a few moments.

James was fortunate that he was still gasping and flushed. It helped mask the blush and the alarm he felt on hearing the question 'Huh?'

'The girls that have made you and Edmund slack off in exercising during school. I doubt your studies are the reason you haven't run every morning. Thus it must be a girlfriend! Unless, of course, you or your brother prefers boys…'

James blushed. 'No!' he said defensively. 'We've been running every morning religiously. And none of us are gay!' he added stridently.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Methinks that the lad doth protest too much.' In a less teasing tone, he continued. 'Then you don't have a girlfriend?'

James looked at his father for a long moment. Then summoning all his courage, he told him everything about Rose.

'I must admit to being surprised.' Harry said slowly after a long silence. He frowned at his son. 'Do you not remember the time you and your brother first met her?'

James nodded. 'Yes,' he had regained his breath during the walk back home. 'Yes I do.' Seeing the inquiring gaze of his father, he continued. 'That doesn't matter to me. My issue is with her parents,' Harry raised an eyebrow at the undercurrents of anger in James' voice. Clearly, the lad had not forgotten. 'Besides, she was quite nice to the two of us. I know that Edmund and I never told you this, but she was sort of a friend of ours when we were captives.'

'I see, and what does your brother think about this?'

'Teddy's cool with it,' James replied with a shrug.

Harry hummed. 'Well, if Teddy is fine with it, and you are fine with it and she clearly is fine with it, then why on earth did it take you so bloody long to tell me and your mother?'

James blinked. 'What?'

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'I know you have been having … relations with the girl since the yule holidays, you silly child. Well, at least someone that you seem serious enough about to physically see during the holidays. If I'm not mistaken, you write letters of undying love otherwise, and judging by the snippets of that one conversation I overheard late one night that you had spent talking to one of your girlfriends with your mirror, those letters are really soppy. And while I'm on that subject, you should consider using silencing charms the next time. Honestly, what do you take me for? Your mother and I have been waiting since forever for you to actually come and tell us about it instead of sneaking around. Do you have any idea how much of convincing and cajoling I had to do to get your mother to refrain from confronting you?'

The Emperor rolled his eyes at his son's gobsmacked expression. 'Kids these days,' he said in a long-suffering voice as he looked heavenwards. 'They think they know everything in the world and are one step ahead of their parents. Well, my dear son, you might think yourself clever and a consummate Slytherin, but you're dealing with experts here. I realise that sounds a bit incongruous, but I have actually noticed the Notice Me Not Charms that you oh so regularly used during the winter holidays.'

'What?' James said with alarm. 'But … How is that even possible?!'

'I can sense the magic of a charm when it is being used on an object or person.' Harry said dismissively. 'But getting back on the topic, I am quite aware of all about those love bites that you have been trying to make sure that neither I nor your mother notice. Oh, and by the way, judging by the location of the charms last night, I sincerely hope you have taken heed of the little talk we had three years back and have made the necessary precautions around her? I know I'm too young to be a grandfather.'

Red faced, James sputtered, wishing he could disappear.

'Then again,' Harry continued blithely, putting an arm around his son, and forcing the lad to match his pace. 'I suppose I shouldn't be worried. If half of the rumours are right, then you should already know of the right precautions.'

'But – I don't –'

'Oh stop it,' Harry admonished, looking at James disapprovingly while cuffing him on the back of his sweaty head for good measure. 'I'm not judging you. I know what goes on in the broom cupboards, the so-called secret passageways and towers at night after curfew. And I was a teenager once too, you know. Since nobody ended up hurt or pregnant I think it is safe enough to gloss over any potentially traumatising conversations. I really do not want to even think about you or your brother shagging someone.' He shuddered for good measure.

'Anyway, it's nice that you have a steady girlfriend. I wish you well and hope that you kids have a nice fruitful relationship. I'm not going to assume that it will lead to marriage any time soon, or at all. You are still young after all. Though I retain the rights to assume that the most the two of you have done and will forever do is hold hands ... even if you end up married and with kids.'

Harry paused for a moment. 'Yeah that's it, I think. Oh, and since I am so generous, I will give you the privilege of telling Fred all on your own! Have fun!'

With a cheerful smile, Harry picked up his pace and headed back to the house in a full sprint.

James stood there for a long moment and then, cursing, made his way to the house in a light trot.

Blazing green eyes looked around at the abandoned camp.

'Damage report,'

The officer behind the Emperor started. 'Sir, four men have been killed while two have been fatally injured. Lowering his voice he continued in hushed tones 'One has been taken. He has most probably been bitten by now.'

Harry cursed under his breath. 'Werewolves,' he said in disgust.

A few years back, Harry knew that he would have felt quite differently about werewolves. After all, having interacted with Remus Lupin, he was sure that they were all people suffering from an unfortunate, yet manageable disease.

His assumptions couldn't have been farther from the truth.

He had seen the memory recordings made by Healers treating people who were bitten and how they changed.

The most poignant was the account of a two year old little girl.

In the first few weeks after she was bitten, she was still the same girl. Despite being in pain, anyone watching could see that she was a very sweet child, well-mannered and behaved.

All that changed in her first full moon night.

Ever since then, the happy little girl was forever gone. In its place was a beast given human form. It was quite shocking to see her actually snarl at her parents who were quite devastated at the sudden change.

The werewolf (for she no longer could be called a human) was always aggressive. Even when not transformed, she would snarl and snap at any human she could see in her vicinity. Restraints had to be used to ensure that she did not physically attack any who came into her room.

Even so, she was no mindless beast either. The girl was a lot like Fenrir Greyback. Capable of speaking, thinking, and reasoning, yet filled with the insatiable desire for human flesh.

Remus Lupin was actually an exception. Nobody knew for sure why he was the way he was as the man had refused to speak to Mind Healers or researchers about himself.

And that was before he had dropped off the face of the earth.

Seeing for himself the true nature of werewolves had left Harry conflicted. While he understood that werewolves could never be considered human nor live in human society, his memories of Remus made him conflicted. For all his faults, Remus was never like a regular werewolf. Edmund had inherited his biological father's soft-spoken and studious nature with none of the crippling insecurity that ran rampant in his forebear. In another lifetime, Harry was certain that Edmund would have made a great teacher. One look at how he interacted with his younger siblings could tell anyone that boy was a natural at imparting knowledge. James certainly did owe a few of his N.E.W.T.s to Edmund's instruction.

Harry forced his mind to the situation at hand as he looked at the commanding officer of the outpost.

'Am I to understand that you all Apparated out immediately?' he asked the man.

'Yes sir. We were overrun! They had us outnumbered and had caught us by surprise. Retreating was the only option'

'Fair enough,' Harry pinned the man with his eyes.

'However, I would like to know some details. For example, do you know if they were acting independently or were they working for someone?'

'I … have no clue sire,' the man said shamefacedly.

Harry was quiet for a moment.

'Get a team together,' he informed his guards. 'The trail is still fresh. We can follow it on brooms.'

'Your imperial majesty,' one of the more cautious guards said as his colleague crisply saluted and raced off. 'Is it wise for you to be going after a pack of werewolves? Perhaps it would be best for the men to handle it.'

Harry nodded. 'Your concern is noted, John. However, do not worry about me.' He smiled dryly. 'I have killed a nundu singlehandedly, after all. Werewolves won't have a chance.'

Minutes later, Harry, his guards and a team of soldiers were preparing to fly out over the forest canopy on brooms.

While Harry would have usually flown on his own, his personal flight speed did not even come close to matching his trusty Firebolt, which he was holding in his hand.

'A Firebolt, sir?' one of the soldiers, a much younger man, said with raised eyebrows as he looked at the vintage broom.

Harry held up a hand to forestall the clearly incensed sergeant from yelling at the young fellow. 'Yes,' he said with a challenging look in his eye, 'A Firebolt.' He sized up the broom in the soldier's hand. 'I see that you are holding the newest racing broom in the market, the Nimbus Speed Force. A good broom … and I can understand why the military has elected to buy it. Its top speed of two hundred and sixty miles an hour is much faster than the two hundred even the Firebolt can manage. Also, Nimbus has incorporated quite a few new nifty charms in the Speed Force; an anti-slip charm, an anti-crash charm and a Supersensory charm along with the standard enchantments seen in racing brooms.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Having said all that, I bet you wouldn't be able to outfly me on that contraption of yours.'

By then, the soldier had clammed up, realising who he was talking to.

'Come on, soldier!' Harry challenged. 'Are you afraid of a little broom race? Tell you what; I'll make it worth your while. Fifty galleons if you outfly me. And, you don't have to pay anything if you lose.'

The younger man was silent for a long moment. 'Very well, sir,' he finally said.

'Good,' Harry said with a challenging grin. 'I expect nothing but the best from you, soldier. You will be giving it your all. That is an order. Am I clear?' he barked.

'Sir, yes sir!' the soldier replied loudly.

'Good,' He turned to the wizard who was assigned to track the werewolves.

'Do you have a lock on?'

'Yes sir,' the man replied eagerly. 'Our man has made finding him easy! Had he not purposefully left a trail, I have no doubts we would be still searching!'

'That is fortunate, indeed.' Harry replied. 'Well, what are you waiting for? Cast the spell!'

A white light shot off from the wizard's wand, leaving a faint trail in its wake as it sought out its quarry.

Harry swiftly got onto his broom and took off, closely followed by the rest.

Rocketing over the Belgian forest, Harry smirked to himself. The Speed Force did have a superior top speed, but the Firebolt had a better pickup, capable of reaching one hundred and fifty in ten seconds, two whole seconds faster than the newer broom.

His competitor flattened himself against his broom, squeezing out every last ounce of speed the broom could produce.

Slowly, inch, by inch, he started gaining. However, the Emperor somehow managed to put up a real good fight. The older man was using his experience to maximise his speed.

Harry smiled. His Supersensory Charm told him that the younger man was slowly gaining. Amateur he scoffed. Had he stayed right behind, he wouldn't have Harry's slipstream slowing him down. But the younger man was learning quickly. He seemed to have some experience.

Slowly but surely, the Speed Force's superior top speed overcame the disadvantages of its owner's relative inexperience. Soon, the two men were neck and neck.

That was when the trail they were following suddenly dropped down into the forest below them.

Anticipating this moment, Harry effortlessly slipped into a steep dive, not even needing to slow down as he did so.

The soldier blinked for a moment before following, cursing as he did so. He had lost some speed. He executed a loop to give himself a boost, a technique he had learnt from his days as a Chaser.

The trees in the wood were widely spaced, making it easy to fly through on broom. At least that was at sane speeds. He looked on in wonder as the Emperor weaved through the forest with breakneck swiftness.

Unwilling to give up, he followed through, using the broom's inbuilt Supersensory charm to navigate.

However, the Emperor was able to execute some impossibly tight turns, somehow, not braking much at all.

Harry grinned as he effortlessly wove through the trees. Never had he felt as alive as he did now. Careful maintenance of the broom made sure that the Firebolt still responded the same way as it had done when he had first ridden it. He had a feeling that his young competitor was just now realising that the Speed Force was not as good as the Firebolt in turning. Those inbuilt charms, while good, did slow down the broom when cornering.

Though, he was putting in a good effort. Harry's Supersensory charm trained to detect the soldier told him that the young man was valiantly trying to keep up.

He burst out into a small clearing with a brook babbling away in the middle. That was where the trail ended, the ball pulsing mutely, not giving off more light than it was supposed to.

Skidding to a halt, Harry quickly dismounted his broom and waved his hand at the pulsing light, extinguishing it while still keeping the trail visible to his men.

He used his powers to make sure that he could not be detected by smell or sound.

Panting, his challenger was the first to erupt from the trees.

'Looks like those new charms make it hard to execute tight turns,' Harry murmured lightly.

'They seem to do so, sir,' the man replied grudgingly in the same volume.

They stood in silence for a few moments.

'So I didn't catch your name, soldier.'

'Kevin Peterson, sir.'

'Are you from Australia?' Harry ventured.

'Yup,'

Further conversation was halted when the rest of the soldiers came in.

The thirteen men all touched down silently.

'Gentlemen,' Harry said solemnly. 'Glad you could join us.' he nodded in front of him. 'There is a clearing with a cave a few yards ahead. That's where they are hiding out. I count at least fifteen excluding their captive.'

Kevin looked at the Emperor, 'How did you figure that out, sir?'

Harry smirked. 'Magic, Kevin, magic.'

As one, the fifteen started heading towards the target.

Reaching the copse of trees, they silently stalked forwards until they saw the clearing ahead.

True to Harry's description, a cave dominated the clearing where the werewolves in human form were lazing in the afternoon sun around an unlit campfire. Had he not known of their true nature, Harry would have sworn that he had stumbled upon a large camping party. At a signal, three men on either side peeled off to surround their quarry.

Suddenly one of the werewolves snapped her head up, sniffing the air.

'What is it?' one of her companions asked.

'I'm not sure,' the woman growled, her voice guttural.

'Ready now,' Harry's soft voice whispered into his team's ears through the enchanted communicators. 'In three … two … one … Attack!'

Cracks resonated throughout the wilderness as wizards in camouflaged fatigues Apparated right in the middle of the camp and started firing curses at the werewolves.

They weren't firing stunners or binding charms either. The first werewolf caught a cutting charm right in the face, leaving only his lower jaw attached to the rest of his body while his companion suffered a piercing hex right in her forehead.

The rest of the werewolves were quick to recover. Soon enough, both parties were embroiled in battle. Their quick reflexes made the lycanthropes hard to hit, even when there were two wizards flinging spells at one werewolf. It was all the wizards could do to ensure that they weren't taken out, despite having the numerical advantage.

That's when Harry stepped in. Unsheathing his sword, he calmly strode forward.

'It's him!' said a particularly large hairy Lycanthrope.

Immediately, the three werewolves who were watching the battle stalked forward, teeth bared as they approached the lone figure of the Emperor.

Harry did not even flinch as the one in the centre started sprinting towards him, brandishing his long yellow claws.

Snarling, the wolf leapt into the air, hands extended.

A pair of huge spikes shot up from the ground and impaled the man midair from the sides, keeping his would be attacker there.

Not even looking at the twitching corpse, Harry sidestepped the second werewolf that was coming in to his left, swinging his sword low as he did so.

The woman fell howling, unable to stay standing on one leg.

A banishing charm caught the final of Harry's attackers, flinging him into the nearest tree, destroying it. The remains of the tree became spikes that buried themselves into and through the werewolf.

Capitalising on the distraction caused by their emperor's easy disposal of three werewolves, the soldiers handily finished off their own combatants.

Straightening, Harry casually walked up to the last surviving member of the small pack, brandishing his sword as he did so.

'You think this little scratch is going to kill me, human?' the werewolf snarled, clutching at her leg that ended at the knee.

'Of course not,' Harry said with a little laugh. 'That's the job of the basilisk venom impregnated into the blade.'

He smiled darkly at the woman's gobsmacked look. 'But I don't want you dead … yet.'

The woman screamed as fire erupted, cutting off the remaining leg from the hip and cauterising the wound.

'Now, I want to know the identity of your leader and their agenda. And since you lot seem to recognise me, I want to know what they seek from me.'

She bared her teeth. 'Why should I tell you, human,' spitting at his feet, she suddenly lunged at him.

Harry didn't even flinch. A burst of lightning sprang from his fingers and hit the werewolf, hurtling her screaming form back a few feet.

Thick chains appeared out of nowhere and bound the werewolf to the ground as Harry approached her twitching smoking body.

'You will tell me because otherwise, I will make your life a living hell before I make you tell me.' Harry said calmly.

'No answer? Very well,' he turned to his men. 'Gents, this fine lady here has just offered her services and body in our efforts to find a cure for the dreaded disease of lycanthropy. Secure her.'

Harry had the satisfaction of seeing the dawning horror on her face before the werewolf succumbed to the myriad of stunning spells shot into her body.

Kevin, who was now at the cave called out. 'Sir, we found Michael.'

He and another soldier shortly came to the rest of the party, half carrying and half dragging an injured form between them.

The man was not in good shape. Wearing only his trousers, he was clutching his side. Through the crude bandage, everyone could make out the bite mark. As one, they all stepped back. The man was infected.

'My liege,' the man rasped. Kneeling, he bowed till his head was touching the ground. Straightening, but still on his knees, he looked at Harry. 'I am afraid that I must ask to be discharged from duty, sir. I am no longer fit.' Swallowing, he squared his shoulders and looked at Harry in the eye. 'I initially wanted to ask to be killed as it is better to suffer an honourable death as a human than live forever as a beast.'

'You have changed your mind then?' Harry asked with a raised eyebrow.

'Yes,' the man replied. 'I wish to live, because I can be of use.' He took a deep breath and continued. 'Once I am … no longer human … use me. Use me to help develop a cure.' The man's eyes rolled up and he slumped sideways in a dead faint.

The gathering was stunned into silence for a long time. 'He is a brave man.' One of the soldiers finally muttered in a respectful silence.

Harry hummed in agreement, stunned by the dedication shown to him. 'Let's get our soldier home.' He finally said. 'I want him to be comfortable for the next month. Let him enjoy his last few weeks of his life as a wizard. He deserves that much at least.'

As one the soldiers all nodded, stepping forward to set up a litter to move their fallen comrade.

'And get that filth to the Department of Mysteries.' Harry fairly snarled as he looked at the stunned werewolf with disgust. 'Use whatever means to transport her, as long as she is alive. Tell them that I want answers from her as well by whatever means.'

Turning on his heel, Harry silently Disapparated, followed shortly by his guards.

Harry sat back with Daphne and watched the newest batch of graduates finish their demonstration.

Done with their training, these young men and women had assembled by their instructors in front of their emperor to show him their skills and prove their readiness to be soldiers in the military.

Harry was particularly interested in this batch as amongst the many young men and women were his own two sons.

Unlike Daphne, he was not too surprised when his sons had expressed an interest in joining the military as soon as their N.E.W.T. results came in (the thought of their results still filled him with pride). However, he had thought, or perhaps hoped, that one of them at least had tamer aspirations, like research, or politics. Daphne certainly had hoped for that. He would know; while she might not tell them outright about it, conceding that it was their decision to make in the end, she had no qualms telling him in the privacy of their bedroom.

Regardless, both parents had respected their sons' decision. However, Harry had made it clear that he would not be using his influence to speed things up or make their time easier. If they wanted to join, they would do it as James and Edmund Potter-Black, not as Imperial Princes. To that effect, he had made it clear that the boys would not be treated any differently. He had also made them wear bracelets that cause people to not make the connexion between them and the Emperor.

It was standard procedure that he expected the nobles in his court to follow should their children join in the army. There would be no favours done based on rank or name. He wanted talent in his army. Not names.

Thus, when Harry saw the names of both his sons in the list of people that had received a special commendation, he was proud to know that both James and Edmund had earned it through their talents.

'Your sons have done quite impressively.' A voice whispered in his ear from behind.

Harry only nodded. 'Is there something I can do for you, Saul?'

The Emperor felt more than saw Professor Saul Croaker's head shake. 'Just come to give an update, sir. The latest subjects have shown promising results towards the cure.'

Harry turned around. 'That is good news,' he said approvingly.

Saul Croaker was initially associated with the section of the Department of Mysteries that dealt with the subject of Time. However, ever since Instant Gratification, he had moved onto another field. The reason he gave, as he cheerfully destroyed his notes (in the interest of national security) was that there was nothing further that could be done in that division. He had reached the pinnacle in what was possible with Time.

Having trained his replacement, he had then shifted his focus and talents elsewhere.

This now lead him to his new project; finding a cure for lycanthropy.

So far, the only thing that came close to managing the magical malady was the Wolfsbane Potion. Its inventor, Damocles Belby had since started devoting his time into improving the potion and possibly finding a cure.

The one problem with this was the lack of subjects.

Aside from their one volunteer (who did not remember anything of his previous life after his first transformation – a new discovery) and their captive, there wasn't anyone else. It was devilishly hard to capture a werewolf as they were not only quite resilient, but knew how to hide from wizards. Those that were confronted by wizards tended to fight to the death, which, most of the time, lead to the wizards in question being infected, turned (if they were stupid enough to go out werewolf hunting on a full moon night) maimed, or killed (Saul shuddered at the thought of being beaten to death by bare hands).

It was Saul Croaker who had come up with an ingenious solution to the shortage problem.

The Department of Mysteries had managed two werewolves that they had then kept under observation. The problem was that with such a limited number of test subjects, scientists had to be careful not to get the werewolves killed, even if they had come close to the one-legged werewolf in their quest to extract information from her. Saul's solution was to have the captive werewolves create new werewolves who could then be used as new test subjects.

Of course, to make a werewolf, one needed a human…

Saul and his department never let in on the fact that they used captured Muggles in their tests. While they were sure of the Emperor's disdain for Muggles (there was never any doubt about that) they did not feel that their research would be condoned by the monarch should he come to know of their … methods.

And so, the empire and its emperor were quite unaware of the source of their subjects, being under the impression that the department was adept in catching wild werewolves. Nobody thought to ask about the research process, so nobody spoke about it. Besides, wild werewolves weren't in short supply either. They were having a few problems with werewolf attacks in Europe and Asia. The breakdown in Muggle civilisation had made them quite bold. The cure was an alternative to fully exterminating the werewolf population. It might help boost the wizarding population. And cured Muggle werewolves would be easier to dispatch.

Some might consider such methods inhumane, but Saul's boss had selected his people carefully. They were all pragmatists. Science and the betterment of the Empire came first and foremost to them.

'I look forward to seeing the cure in action,' Harry said easily, never taking his eyes off the cadets.

As Croaker moved on, Harry reflected that if it weren't for the oaths that bound them, Croaker and his ilk would have long been in Azkaban or a mental ward by now. He did not know what they did with those werewolves, and frankly, he did not want to.

With the vampires now willing to curb their bloodlust and become civilised beings, the hags, and dementors under control, the giants too few to even consider warfare, and the goblins fully subdued (his men had cut their teeth doing battle with the nasty buggers in the Americas and Asia) the werewolves were the last of the major dark creatures posing a problem.

As Harry had suspected, the werewolf pack had a leader. A Dark Wizard who had decided to use the recent upheaval to his advantage to become powerful. He had hopes of challenging Harry and taking the empire for himself.

There were some rumours that the wizard himself was a werewolf, even though nobody questioned so far had seen him change. Harry had to admit, that would be quite a novelty if it was true.

This Dark Wizard fancied himself equal to Voldemort, something Harry found endlessly amusing. He had even, like old Voldemort, styled himself the Belgian equivalent of "He Who Shall Not Be Named". Having barely any human followers, the twit had allied himself with werewolves promising them free reign should he get to sit on the throne. He was known to the werewolves as the "Wolf King".

In the unbiased opinion of the Magical Secret Service, the military wing of the Department of Mysteries, this man was nothing close to Voldemort in terms of power or cunning. Once they knew what they were looking for, it had been ridiculously easy for them to detect and shut down any and all terrorist cells. That was something that the government had a tough time doing with Voldemort's Death Eaters.

Agents were confident that they would be able to find this man within the year and exterminate him.

Then it was off to China.

Harry still felt a silly grin forming on his face as he thought about how those Muggles had decided to spend their time. For some reason, the idiots were spending their time and energy in trying to annex their immediate neighbours, namely India and Pakistan while consolidating their hold on Tibet. He didn't know the specifics, but it was something about the previous relationships the countries had with each other.

The actual invasion wasn't a good thing. It presented a risk of the Chinese Muggles finding out about the growing wizarding presence. However, the benefits outweighed the possible problem.

For one, Harry found himself nearly singing praises of the bright spark that had thought up the ingenious plan of using solid rocket propellant to fuel the Chinese war machine.

From what his scientists had told him, the Muggle process used to make the propellants was not possible for them currently, what with the loss of oil and electricity.

This meant that they could only use what they had and no more.

And what they had was in their long range missiles; mainly, their nuclear missiles.

China was effectively disarming itself.

Recognising the opportunity given to him, Harry had started to use this development to his advantage.

Some of his lieutenants had been sent to India and Pakistan to help the situation there. Posing as Muggles, the wizards and witches had quietly replaced the top brass and started coordinating the defence. The Muggles found that the low-tech measures of communication they were forced to use were doing almost magically well, never knowing that actual magic was facilitating it.

The situation there was quite interesting really. China was attacking India, with Pakistan in their sights, Pakistan was interested in annexing Kashmir with the aim of getting as much land from India as possible (even going so far as to hope for the whole of India) while defending themselves against the Chinese. And India was happily fighting back, somehow, magically, holding its own against both fronts.

And while every Muggle in India and Pakistan had their eye on the borders … wizards were quietly doing their job behind the scenes.

Ceylon and the southern half of India had fallen under wizard rule without any of the Muggles suspecting a thing. Similarly, the western part of Pakistan had also been taken over by wizards.

It was decided that they would allow the Muggles to fight each other out. After all, the Muggles were quite enthusiastic about it and it was helping the Empire's goals.

All they had to do was ensure that neither Muggle army got enough of an upper hand, A delicate situation to say the least.

Harry was confident that his men there would be able to take care of things. Naturally, he would be checking up on them.

Meanwhile, there was this werewolf problem that he had to take care of.

The Magical Secret Service may be confident that this man was no threat, but Harry wouldn't believe that until the Wolf King was confirmed dead. Till then, they had to take that man seriously. Something he was going to ensure happened.

Magdalena bared her teeth at the human in front of her.

'So you are the only one who has managed to survive the purge, I take it?' the female werewolf growled.

'Yes,' Thaddeus, the rotund middle-aged wizard said with an air of insolence and arrogance so strong that Magdalena's hands itched to disembowel him.

'Careful how you speak, human,' the werewolf growled. 'Otherwise you might end up dead … or worse.'

Thaddeus only sneered. 'I doubt your leader would want that,' he replied without an iota of his original arrogance reduced. 'After all, my fellows and I are the only contacts he has to the Wizarding Empire.'

Snarling, she barked out, 'Well, report worm!'

He smiled nastily. 'I don't think so.' Pausing, he observed her shocked face for a moment. 'Considering that I am the only human contact you have, I definitely know that I am far too important to your leader to talk to his … subordinates. We, that is, my associates and I, will answer to The Wolf King only. Your days as our handler are over.'

'I ought to rip your innards out with my bare hands!' the werewolf howled in enraged response.

The man was unfazed. 'Yet you will not. Because my death would mean that your leader will have to start from the beginning … and it will be even harder because their Emperor is now aware of his existence. After all, it has been nearly a year, and neither I nor my colleagues have seen one sign of new recruits. The Wizard Emperor has already managed to eradicate all the cells. Well, except for this one, but that is because I was smart. Your leader will not be happy to know that his cause has been set back because you couldn't keep your temper in check.'

Wizard and werewolf stared at each other for a long moment. 'You have changed,' the werewolf finally said. 'Not the snivelling little coward that I recruited anymore, are you? You've become a big man,' she finished in mocking tones.

Leaping up from her chair she pounced on the table and thrust her face very close to the wizard. The man, not expecting this, toppled back out of his chair with a thud to lie sprawled on the floor.

'I will tell Him about your … message,' the wolf said with a malevolent leer. 'You'd better pray that he listens to you and likes what he hears. If not … well, I will derive great pleasure sucking the marrow out of your bones!'

Threat delivered, the wolf leapt from the table and out of the side window of the first floor room.

Catching his breath, Thaddeus rushed to the window to see her silently steal away into the night.

Walking back on shaky legs, he sat down at the table of the cheap room he had rented for the night and pulled out a hipflask. Taking a few fortifying gulps, he pulled out his mirror.

'Well?' said the figure at the other end

'It worked. I'm in.' He said shortly to the face looking at him expectantly. Exhaling, he continued, letting some excitement seep into his voice. 'I did just as you told me to. She was right pissed off, but in the end she relented.'

'It did? I mean, good job.'

The wizard smiled at his companion. 'That is a surprising amount of disbelief coming from a person who thought of this strategy.'

'Details, details,' the man said airily. 'Now get your carcass home. We have some serious work to do! After all, it isn't every day you know a person who is about to meet a serious Dark Lord/Werewolf.'

Thaddeus groaned. 'Yeah, I know,' he grumbled. Putting his mirror back in his pocket, he took one last swig and got to his feet.

He hoped that the impending meeting with the Wolf King went well, and he didn't stuff it up. His future and the future of his colleagues depended upon it.

As he got ready to Disapparate home, he ruminated that he should start brewing a calming potion now. As it is, the adrenaline rush from this meeting had nearly done him in. He would have to be calm if he wanted to get out of the next meeting alive.

To all the Hindus out there, a happy diwali and new year!

48. Father and Son

Wind blew through the craggy peaks of the Himalayas. The howling permeated throughout, sounding like the voices of a thousand damned souls. This, coupled with the barren landscape of rock and swirling snow, presented a scene of desolation to Harry.

Standing outside his wizarding tent, the Emperor looked up. At this height, the sky was a dark blue to black.

Looking back down, he gazed upon his quarry.

While there was barely any life on top of these mountains, there still were some creatures that few had ever laid eyes upon. One of those creatures was the magnificent phoenix nesting a few feet away from him.

Very little was known of phoenixes beyond the mythology surrounding them. The only known facts of the gentle creatures were the physical descriptions and their habitats. Few had managed to domesticate the birds.

Had he not seen the beautiful creature riding the thermals high up when he was in his falcon form, he would not have been here. He had followed the wild bird out of idle curiosity. He wasn't expecting to see a nest. In fact, getting a phoenix for himself was the furthest thing from his mind at that time.

But one doesn't pass such an opportunity by like this.

Few had managed to domesticate the bird. Their accounts of the process all agreed on one set procedure.

Phoenixes do not, as the various sappy novels written by idle minds like to think, bond to wizards who are "pure of heart" or some such nonsense. They bond to humans when said humans are the first things they see once they hatch.

Of course, this means that one has to find a phoenix nest with an egg in it to begin with.

Then they had to be able to get the egg out of the nest. And that is quite hard to do when the mother is capable of vanishing with the whole nest, egg included.

Harry slowly approached the nest, taking slow steps, extending a hand filled with berries as he did so. The bird cocked its head and looked at him suspiciously through its beady eyes.

He was a good jump away from the nest when the phoenix flashed away, leaving a flaming stone nest behind. Harry theorised that the flames kept the egg warm when the mother wasn't there to incubate it.

The Emperor stopped in his tracks. Looking down, he studied the spot he was standing on. It was five strides further than the spot he had stopped yesterday. Progress!

He looked back at the nest longingly. The egg was so close!

But he wasn't idiotic enough to walk up to the nest. He had learnt from hard experience.

The first time he saw the phoenix flame away leaving its egg behind, Harry had thought that the bird had abandoned it. After all, the literature he had read was of the unanimous opinion that phoenixes leave with the nest and egg.

Ecstatic that he had managed to get to the egg in such a short time, he had happily bounded forward.

That was a mistake.

It turned out that the mother hadn't abandoned her egg. No, she was lying in wait, watching her nest and unborn chick. And when Harry got too close…

The result wasn't pretty.

Harry's scalp still tingled in remembrance of that attack. The phoenix had arrived in a blaze of fire over his head, singeing his hair as she pecked at him.

It had taken a good day for all the scratches on his arms to heal and the hair to grow. The injuries inflicted by that nundu didn't last that long, and they were far deeper and more serious!

Harry cursed silently. The smell of burnt hair still lingered to this day.

Normally, people would have given up, but Harry decided to persevere. Apparating back to the palace he was living in (a nice airy place made of pink marble and grey granite in South India) he requisitioned a wizarding tent and headed back, hoping that the phoenix had not decided to shift base.

He was not disappointed. The bird was still there, eyeing him challengingly when she spotted him, daring him to try stealing her egg again.

And so began the standoff between human and avian. Every morning, he would approach the nest holding an offering of fruit. The minute the phoenix disappeared in flames, he would stop, put down the produce, mark his place and head back. After a while, the bird would reappear, inspect the food, and then eat it.

The rest of the day would be spent doing whatever either life form did for the day. The phoenix had established a schedule. Any and all approaches were to be made during the morning. That was made evident when it started hissing threateningly at Harry when he tried the same thing in the afternoon. Getting the hint, the monarch stayed in his tent for the rest of the day. Eventually the two came to an understanding. After the morning's activity, the bird would fly off and do whatever it did (and Harry was certain that she stayed close to her nest) and Harry would return to his duties.

Over the past week, Harry had made some real progress. The phoenix had started to trust him a bit more, letting him closer and closer to the nest.

The books were thankfully correct on this aspect. Gaining the trust of the mother was the key in getting the egg. Breaking that would mean that the phoenix would forever disappear and never return to the same spot. If locating a phoenix was hard, finding one who did not want to be found was impossible.

The next few days passed in this fashion till finally, Harry was standing right in front of the majestic bird. The hostile look in the phoenix's eye had long gone by now. Standing up, it delicately picked at the large mango that Harry held.

Unwilling to believe his luck, he slowly sat down. Undeterred, the phoenix shuffled closer to him as it continued to eat out of his hand. Harry tentatively raised his other hand to stroke the magnificent neck. A shiver ran down his spine. It reminded him of Fawkes long back ago.

A small smile graced his face at the memories. He may not think highly of Dumbledore now, but there were some good times, and he remembered them fondly. Chief amongst them was the short period where the old man had started teaching him advanced magic. Fawkes used to insist on getting his attention after each of his lessons. It was a long time since he had last thought of the better times with his old headmaster. It was at this time that he realised that he had truly made his peace with the man. He could almost feel the hatred and anger towards the former headmaster drain out of him.

It was as if a large weight, a weight he hadn't known he was carrying had been lifted. Not that he was ever going back to liking the codger.

The wild phoenix stared into his eyes, as if searching for some quality within him. The gaze felt alien and familiar to Harry at the same time as he looked back at the animal without flinching.

After a long moment, the bird bowed its head, and letting out a musical trill, flashed out.

Harry stared at the nest. Unlike previous times, there were no flames coming from the stone structure. Eyes widening as he realised what this meant, he scrambled forward, shifting the warm rocks till he saw the egg within.

It was a beautiful scarlet in colour, about the size of a swan egg. Harry gently lifted it up and tucked it into his clothes, keeping it warm with his body.

Swiftly walking back, he carefully placed it in a specially crafted heated travelling container. Packing his tent, he looked back. The phoenix was perched on a tree, gazing at him unblinkingly. Nodding respectfully at the magnificent creature, Harry cradled his precious cargo and took off into the air. He did not want to risk apparition with such a delicate and valuable thing.

Magdalena smirked at the human as he cast wary glances at her fellow lycans. She had been sure to share reports of the man's arrogance with the master as well as anyone else who would listen. The end result was quite a bit of hostility as the tale grew from there to the point that everyone was quite sure that Thaddeus had called the leader many derogatory names.

Currently, the only reason they hadn't attacked was because The Wolf King had expressed an interest in meeting this man. For some reason, the master was amused at the wizard's arrogance.

But Magdalena had no doubts that once the meeting was over and the man was found useless, his life would be forfeit. She had it all planned out. The wizard would have the pleasure of seeing his own intestines being cooked in front of him as he slowly died.

Thaddeus couldn't help but feel nervous as he walked through the encampment of the Wolf King. The place was a large clearing surrounded on all sides by thick foliage and trees, with a large rambling wooden building dominating the area. He had no idea which wood he was in either, having been sent there by Portkey.

Not that he was worried. The tracker placed on his person would ensure that his men knew exactly where he was at the moment.

Although surprised at the Secrecy Sensor, he approached the werewolf holding it without faltering. There was no way they were going to find the tracker. He was very happy that they had anticipated this probability. It certainly made up for the discomfort he had felt when they had … inserted the tracker a few hours before he was whisked off to this place. He was just glad that he was able to walk properly now. The person who had placed the tracker had assured him that any further feelings he had about the enchanted object within him would be psychological.

He did not agree with that.

And he was not looking forward to tomorrow morning when the object would be leaving him. That is, if it left him. The feeling of constipation was quite strong right now.

Wrenching his thoughts to the present, he smiled slightly to himself when the Secrecy Sensor didn't light up. That was expected as it wasn't strong enough to detect that tracker. They would need a Probity Probe for that. And those were expensive.

'What are you looking at, human,' the werewolf who had scanned him growled threateningly.

'Nothing,' he replied, rearranging his face back to a mask of polite indifference.

The security werewolf gave him one last look of loathing before turning around and opening the door.

The human scanned his surroundings as he walked through the house. Ramshackle from the outside, the building's interiors were nevertheless well-maintained. Had he not seen the outside, Thaddeus would have assumed that he was in a regular lodge.

'Wait here,' his escort said in what Thaddeus was beginning to suspect was his default tone of voice. Rolling his eyes, he stood at the door as the werewolf slipped in. It seemed that they were all only capable of growling. Noticing that he was alone for the moment, he subtly slipped his right hand into his robe pocket and made a fist.

A moment later, the door opened, and he was ushered into what he identified as a sort of throne room.

This room was unlike the opulent throne room of the Palace in the capital. The walls were plain, though with a proper coat of paint on them. The throne itself was nothing but a sturdy wooden armchair that would not look out of place at a dining table.

Thaddeus was forced to his knees at the foot of the dais. His escort shoved his head down to face the ground, no doubt wanting him to show some respect for the figure seated on the chair.

'Your majesty,' his escort growled. 'Your guest has arrived.'

Thaddeus kept his gaze firmly on the ground, knowing that looking up would probably set off the mercurial werewolf standing next to him at the very least.

'Good,' while hoarse, the new voice was markedly softer than the voices of the other wolves. From his vantage point, Thaddeus could see the feet of the Wolf King shift as he got to his feet.

'Rise, human,' the wolf said as he approached the kneeling figure.

Slowly getting up, Thaddeus looked at the man standing in front of him. The Wolf King was slightly shorter than he was. He sported a full beard as long, silver, and untidy as the hair on his head, although flecks of light brown could be seen interspersed. The werewolf's face, in contrast, was that of a much younger man.

All in all, the werewolf looked like a normal, unassuming wizard, albeit with prematurely grey hair.

But that was if nobody accounted for his eyes. The werewolf had eyes of a shark's; dead and cold, devoid of all emotion. These were the eyes of a ruthless predator.

Thaddeus couldn't help but feel that there was something familiar about the werewolf standing in front of him.

'So I understand that you and your fellows are the only survivors working for me?' the werewolf said pleasantly.

The wizard cleared his throat, 'Indeed.' He said with an air of confidence.

The werewolf smiled. 'Good,' he said with satisfaction. Abruptly he turned away from the wizard and headed towards the fireplace.

'I do not wish to be rude –'

'And yet,' pausing, the werewolf cut off the wizard with a small smile. 'As an old friend once said, "sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often".'

'Right,' the wizard said shortly. 'But how do I know that I am speaking to the Wolf King? For all I know you could be one of the underlings sent to trick me.'

'You dare –!' The enraged bodyguard was cut off by a raised hand from the silver haired werewolf. 'You do not,' the werewolf said pleasantly. 'I suppose you will have to take my word for it. Besides,' and his tone turned dangerous. 'Had I not been The Wolf King, Sven here would have snapped your neck in a heartbeat. He only listens to me.'

'Oh,' Thaddeus licked his lips. 'Please accept my apologies then, your majesty.'

The werewolf only inclined his head. 'So, human, tell me … how did you survive. I must admit that I am curious to know where the rest of my human contacts went so wrong.'

Thaddeus smirked and started his tale.

The Wolf King listened to the wizard in front of him with interest. Something about the wizard smelled strangely familiar. He wondered if he had met the man. Perhaps it was in his previous life, before the tragedies that had occurred that lead him to this place and situation?

'You seem quite intelligent,' the Wolf King said. 'Quite Slytherin, if I might say so …' he cocked an eyebrow at the wizard. 'Interesting, you seem to know what I just said. Considering your background, I wasn't expecting that.'

'Well, I do like to keep my ears open,' the wizard replied easily. 'I don't know much about what it means, but I know that it is a slang term used by those who come from Avalon.'

'Ah,' the werewolf shrugged. 'You mean "Britain". Now, I do have to admit, human, that while that is an impressive tale, I cannot help but feel that you haven't met me just to tell me only that. So what is it that you are looking for?'

There was a moment's silence.

'Peace,' the wizard finally said with a smirk on his face.

Both the puzzled werewolves only had a moment to give the wizard a questioning look when alarms started blaring.

'The wards are down!' the bodyguard said quickly. 'GUARDS!' he shouted at the top his lungs.

The werewolves were quick to pour into the room, with wands or various bladed weapons in hand. At the same time, pops rang out throughout the room as multiple wizards and witches garbed in gleaming black form-fitting armour materialised out of thin air, wands at the ready.

It was bedlam. Curses flew here and there. Drawing his wand, the Wolf King expertly duelled one of the invaders. He had never seen such armour before. It handily deflected quite a few mid-level curses. Had it not been for that armour, he would have managed to dispatch his opponent with relative ease. She was rather inexperienced.

He ducked under a jet of green light. 'So that's how you want to play it, girlie?' he asked mockingly. 'So be it.' With a shout, his wand flashed green. Cursing, the witch dove out of the way, only to catch a glancing blow to the temple from Sven's huge fist.

The large blond werewolf raised his other hand, bringing the dagger clutched in his fist speeding down towards the dazed woman.

At the last moment, a spell caught the large werewolf in the side, sending him flying away.

'I don't think so.'

The Wolf King turned around to see Thaddeus with his wand out and a snarl on his face. It didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place.

'You lead them here,' he growled. 'I will have your head for this, traitor!'

Showing uncommon agility for a man of his build, the wizard twisted out of the way of the blasting curse, raising a shield to deflect the piercing curse that followed.

The werewolf and human were soon embroiled in battle, crashing through a side door in the room that lead out into a large but simple banquet hall.

Not wasting any time, the werewolf summoned and banished the large table towards his opponent.

Quickly blasting the furniture into smithereens, the wizard transfigured the splinters into metal and sent it back to the werewolf. Not pausing, he started conjuring and transfiguring animals.

The metal spikes vanished with a wave of the werewolf's wand. Seeing what his opponent was doing, he started his own transfiguration.

Soon enough, the room was filled with various beasts and birds fighting with each other, as their creators exchanged curses, hexes, and jinxes furiously.

The duel came to a head when the werewolf, through some impressive wand-work, managed to disarm his opponent, throwing the wizard off his feet.

'And now, Thaddeus, you die,' the werewolf growled as he approached the downed wizard.

Thaddeus laughed loudly. 'You can't kill Thaddeus!' he jeered. 'Thaddeus is long dead by now.'

The wolf paused for a moment before the Knut dropped. 'Polyjuice, I presume?' he said musingly. 'No it couldn't be … that would have been instantly picked up by the wards.' He looked at "Thaddeus" closely. 'You are a Metamorphmagus then. That is quite inventive of the Emperor.' Narrowing his eyes, he twitched his wand, sending the wizard flying. 'Turn back, human. I want to see the face of the person whom I'm going to kill.'

'What's – in it – for me?' the wizard replied between gasps.

The werewolf pretended to think about it. 'If you change back, I kill you. If you don't … well, the full moon is in a few days … you would make for a good werewolf.'

An impotent glare was his only answer before the Metamorphmagus started shifting his form.

In a few moments, the werewolf was gazing upon the true features of the man in front of him. His heart stopped beating. That face was so hauntingly familiar …

'What's the matter, wolfie?' the man mocked from the floor. 'Cat got your tongue?'

The werewolf twitched involuntarily. There had only been one person to call him that. But she was dead … she had been dead for a really long time. The remark only served to cement the familiarity he felt.

From his position on the floor, Edmund watched with a little confusion at the change in the Wolf King's face.

It was at that moment that James decided to make his presence known.

Heading the strike team, it was his job to lead the invasion into the werewolf lair once Edmund confirmed the werewolf leader's presence.

It was James' idea to use one of the captured wizards loyal to the werewolves as a way to find the lycanthropes. With all the operatives found and captured, having one contact would make that individual very useful to the Wolf King.

His superiors had been quite impressed with the plan, and any doubts they had were squashed when Edmund volunteered to impersonate the person.

Edmund's talents as a Metamorphmagus were well-known by now, and the advantages of having such a person instead of using Polyjuice were manifold. For one, it was harder to detect a Metamorphmagus than it was to detect someone who had used the potion.

Additionally, thanks to the rarity of the talent, few would be expecting a Metamorphmagus. However, that also made any such spying missions hard as Edmund was effectively the only Metamorphmagus in the army. Generally, people with that gift went into theatre where they were in high demand. Actors were certainly paid more, a Metamorphmagus actor was paid even more, and the risks associated with the job were quite low.

Another problem was the size. They were quite lucky that one of their captives was close to Edmund in height. While it was easy for them to change facial features and put on or shed fat, height was an issue for an adult Metamorphmagus.

Hopefully, those problems would soon be reduced, if the rumours of a new device that would allow wizards to change form at will ended up being true.

As soon as the tracker told them where his brother had gone, James and the rest of his team silently Apparated a few metres away.

James had to give it to the werewolf, even if they had known that his hideout was in Russia, it would still be hard to find the place in the eight million odd square kilometres of forest.

Unable to do anything but hear what was going on inside, they quietly listened through the receiver in Edmund's pocket that had started working once the man activated the device by clenching it in his fist.

The object itself was harmless, but when combined with an emitter and a variant of a Protean Charm, it could be used to create a small hole in the wards without anyone knowing about it.

James perked up when he heard confirmation of the Wolf King's presence. A few minutes later, the device had done its job and they had an entry point.

Not wasting much time, they Apparated out directly into the room, using the tracker to home in on Edmund and consequently, the Wolf King.

The ensuing battle was the most intense James had ever seen in his life. Not that he had seen much, considering that he was new (it was his first mission).

As soon as he was able, he slipped through the fracas into the adjoining room. His progress was impeded by two determined lycanthropes that proved to be quite resilient despite the fact that they were Muggle.

His eyes widened when he saw a werewolf he could only assume was the Wolf King approach a sprawled figure that he swiftly recognised as his brother.

Not wasting any more time, he quickly bought his wand to bear.

Both Edmund and the werewolf were caught by surprise when a flash of light struck the Wolf King. With a feral snarl, the lycanthrope whirled around, his free hand touching the gash on the side of his face.

Rolling away, Edmund quickly got to his feet, drawing his spare wand and summoning his primary wand.

Side-by-side, the brothers fought their lone opponent. The werewolf put up a good fight, but in the end, a banishing charm thrown by Edmund sent him flying to the far end of the room where he was impaled by the severed leg of the dining table.

The two wizards slowly approached the weakly struggling werewolf. James reached into one of his pockets and removed a camera that Edmund took.

'Allow me,' he said, never taking his eyes off the dying werewolf. 'Father would love to see this,' he remarked as he lifted the camera.

'I … I …' the werewolf coughed out, before, with a sigh, he slumped forward, clearly dead.

'Hold his face up for me so I can get a clear shot.'

Done with the grisly job, the two joined their team for the clean-up.

That night, Edmund sat in his study.

Having been given the weekend off, he had wasted no time Apparating back home.

He did not know what to feel, having completed his first mission. On one hand, there was the thrill he got in duping the enemy, sneaking into their stronghold without their knowledge. Then there was the adrenalin rush he got in the fight itself. The magic in his veins practically sang as he cast spell after spell.

But then there was the fact that he had ended the life of another individual. While it was made clear that werewolves were patently not human, what with their insatiable need and hunger for regular human flesh at all times, they still did resemble humans closely enough.

Beneath all that was a burning curiosity. The Wolf King looked quite familiar. Edmund was sure he had seen that face somewhere before.

Edmund brought out the photograph he had taken. Officially, that image was supposed to be with the army, and it was. However, he had made a copy which he kept for himself. Unlike regular photographs, this one stayed still as the photograph wasn't developed in the traditional sense.

He did not know why, but he felt his gaze drift from the photograph in his hand to the one on his desk.

Frowning, Edmund picked up and held the gilded picture frame up to the creased photograph, comparing the two subjects within. His eyes widened and his hands shook when he made the connexion. Once you took away the beard, shortened the hair, and turned the clock back a few years, the picture of the deceased werewolf in his left hand was a dead ringer for the picture held in his right of the happy smiling man holding an equally happy woman in his arms.

The framed picture clattered to the ground, the glass within shattering and the occupants fleeing the picture as the crumpled photograph drifted down to join it.

Edmund, however, did not notice this as he was already on his way out.

Harry found him a few hours later, sitting in a tree near the grounds.

'So I suppose that you have figured out the identity of the Wolf King.'

Edmund started at his voice, not having noticed him till now. Looking down, he nodded silently, and went back to staring out into nothing.

He felt the older man sit down at the base of the tree, directly below him.

They spent a few moments in silence before Edmund finally spoke.

'Can you … tell me about him?' he said hesitantly.

'What do you want to know?'

'Everything,' was the short reply.

Looking up into the night sky, Harry began to speak. Most of what he said was already known to Edmund, as he had repeated the stories countless times. He told him everything from how he first met him to the last time he had seen Remus Lupin.

'I don't understand,' Edmund finally said. 'How could he become … someone like this?'

'We can only speculate,' Harry said with a sigh. 'No one but Remus Lupin knows the answer to that question. I never knew him much. Not like how much my parents knew him.'

'Do you think,' Edmund began haltingly. 'If he had known …?'

'…About you? Maybe … that is a question that I find asking myself. Like I said, he and I were never close.'

'But he was your father's friend.'

'But he never was mine.' Harry shrugged. 'I only met him when I was thirteen. And it was months later before I found out that he knew my parents. Sure, we did get along reasonably amicably whenever we met, but I knew Sirius for a much shorter time and I felt closer to him than I felt to Remus.' He gazed into the distance. 'And our last meeting didn't end very well, either.'

'You never told me about that incident,' Edmund remarked.

'Do you really want to know?' Harry said hesitantly.

Edmund pondered this for a few moments. 'Yes,' he finally said firmly. 'I want to know.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Do you remember your school history lessons? I know that you and your brother took History of Magic at the N.E.W.T. level. You two passed with flying colours too.'

Edmund smiled. 'Well, we did have resources others did not. Like easy access to people who have lived through most of the syllabus.'

'Quite. So I suppose that you know who the Lestranges were?'

Harry heard a soft intake of breath. 'Yes,' Edmund finally said. 'They were three of the Dark Lord Voldemort's most fearsome Death Eaters: Rodolphus, his brother Rabastan and his wife, Bellatrix. There still are quite a few debates as to who was more dangerous.'

Unseen by his son, Harry gave a thin smile, his gaze far away. 'Rodolphus and Bellatrix had attacked the Tonks family. I …' he paused, looking at his hands. 'Rabastan had orchestrated an attack on Diagon Alley at the same time. It was coincidence that I was inside the bank at the time. Or maybe it was fate. Whatever the reason, the bank had gone into lockdown because of the Death Eaters, and I was inside, unable to get out.

'By the time I reached the house, I was just in time to see Rodolphus kill Ted Tonks. And trust me; death was a favour for him at the time. I couldn't even begin to comprehend or describe the state he was in when I saw him. I still can't…

'Anyway, we duelled. Rodolphus and I. I wish I could say that I bested him, but –' he laughed hollowly. 'I was but a boy then … all of sixteen years old. And I was up against a Death Eater who had killed some of the best Aurors and Hit Wizards. Add in the fact that I could still hear fighting coming from the house and knowing that Bellatrix was in there … well, I couldn't think of finishing the man. I had to get inside.'

Harry closed his eyes. 'Thankfully,' he said after a pause. 'Reinforcements had arrived. It compelled Rodolphus and Bellatrix to retreat. Otherwise, I shudder to think what would have happened to me, considering that I had literally put myself between those two violent crackpots. Yeah, I know,' he said in reply to the snort that he heard, 'Elementary mistake. But I was sixteen, unexperienced in battle and I had no formal training. I was lucky.'

His voice turned sorrowful. 'I went inside … Andromeda's face still gives me nightmares sometimes. She had put up quite a fight, your maternal grandmother. Her wand was charred in her hands. But Bellatrix was a much better fighter, and sadistic to boot. What she did…' he shuddered.

'Then I came into your biological mother's room …' Harry swallowed. 'That insane witch had stuck a knife in her belly … there was so much blood –' He broke off, unable to speak.

Harry took a few deep breaths, mastering his mind and bringing his emotions back under control. When he spoke next, his voice was under control. 'She was still breathing, still conscious. I remember calling her by her first name.' he gave a soft laugh. 'She actually replied with "don't call me Nymphadora." … her last words.' A watery chuckle above him followed by a hastily stifled sniff told him how Edmund was taking this.

'Then Remus came in … and that's when everything went to hell.' Harry paused. 'There were so many reasons for Bellatrix to go after the Tonks family: Andromeda had married what was once called a common Muggleborn, someone a witch like Bellatrix considered beneath her. She and her daughter were vocal opponents of Voldemort's. And her daughter, Nymphadora, had married a werewolf; and that was more than enough to get Bellatrix in a frothing rage. And yet … Remus decided that I was the one to blame for what happened.'

'Bet you took that well,' Edmund replied.

Harry snorted. 'What do you think?' he paused, lost in thought. 'I used quite a few harsh words then. I had quite a temper then, I'll have you know.'

'You did?' Edmund was surprised. His father always seemed so calm. He could never picture the man in a rage.

'Oh, you don't know the half of it,' Harry said dryly. 'Anyway, I did use quite a few harsh words, words that I wouldn't have used now. I do not deny that. But at the same time, Remus could have acted a bit more maturely. I suppose he allowed his anger to twist him up. You only survived because I made a very tough decision. We searched for Remus, we tried to get a message out many times, but owls were unable to find him, and you need to have a general idea of his location for a Patronus message to reach him. Eventually, we were forced to have him declared legally dead.'

There was more silence.

'I cannot imagine how you must be feeling,' Harry finally said. 'To find out that the person whom you killed was your own father …'

'Don't be stupid,' Edmund interrupted with a snort. 'My father is not dead. He is sitting here.' He looked down at Harry meaningfully. 'And I most certainly am not ever going to even entertain thoughts of killing him.'

'But –'

'Remus Lupin wouldn't have known to find me here,' Edmund said fiercely. Swinging his legs around, he jumped down, landing next to his father with grace. 'He probably would have spent hours trying to locate me. I know that you came here the minute you found out that I was missing. I did see you Apparate in a few minutes back, after all. Lupin never raised me. He never took care of me. In fact, he was the reason why I nearly died and why I never knew my biological mother. I know I said this before, but you are my father. You will always be.'

Harry got to his feet. He looked up at his son with a smile, eyes glistening suspiciously. 'And you will always be my son.' Throwing an arm around him, he remarked. 'Oh how I miss those days when you were a little midget. I didn't have to reach up then. Come, let's get inside.'

Just then the air immediately above them burst in flames.

Not even flinching, Harry automatically held out his free arm. Trilling an uplifting melody, his phoenix settled down on the proffered arm gracefully.

Even though he was long used to the bird appearing, Edmund couldn't help but stare. Even now, the phoenix's beauty captivated him.

'Miss me?' Harry asked fondly as he gently ran a finger down the head of the bird. Like his son, Harry also couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the bird. He was quite surprised when the egg that he had managed to obtain hatched to give a white phoenix.

While not unheard of, white phoenixes were rare, and Harry felt quite blessed to have one as his companion.

He wanted a name as unique as the bird. As the phoenix's flame and plumage reminded him of the midday sun, Harry decided to turn to Sanskrit in naming the bird.

And so, his phoenix was named Mihir.

Mihir looked at Edmund with one large clear blue eye and started singing, starting off at a low note and then building up.

The effect of the phoenix song was immediate. Both men were considerably cheerier by the time they entered the house, their hearts lighter and their hopes for the future stronger.

Harry stood on the plains with his sons flanking him as he looked ahead.

It had taken a decade to finally get here.

While they had blazed through Europe with ease, they had hit a small snag in the Middle East. The Muggles in Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates had somehow managed to muster up resistance in the form of their army.

Harry was quite upset when he found out that the wizards from those countries were unable to kill their former Muggle masters. Somehow, they had allowed the Saudi Muggle King to get away long enough to warn the rest and seek shelter. Additionally, a family member of one of Emirs of the UAE had managed to escape the initial purge.

He was thankful that they had been unable to send their warning until after the communications failure, having been in hiding till then. That meant that the news of the magical uprising did not spread with rapidity as it would have done otherwise.

However, the Emperor had been sure to make his displeasure known to the two ministers responsible.

He didn't torture them. Nor did he kill them. That wasn't his style. But he had made it clear that they would not be first pick for viceroys.

However, he did have a very strong desire to punch the Saudi Minister of Magic in the face. All that grovelling was quite annoying, really. And the man had royally stuffed up. He really did remind Harry of Fudge. At least he could take some consolation that he actually had punched Fudge in the face.

At least he got to bloody his troops in proper warfare. Their strategy and training had paid off well, and having two of the participants of Instant Gratification work in the military of those two countries did not hurt either as it gave them a good idea about battle tactics. It took a few months to subdue the Saudi Muggle military.

They finished the seven emirates in even lesser time.

Saudi Arabia and the Emirates weren't the only countries that had somehow cottoned on to the presence of wizards. They had experienced a few instances of organised resistance as they went east. However, it was fairly easy to take care of them. Muggles were not used to magical means of fighting.

And things had changed since then too. The past few years had seen a surge in advances in magical science and technology across the board.

One of those advances was in wand technology. After some intensive research and development, it was now impossible for people to see the spells coming out of a wand of a battle mage (at least that's what Harry called the soldiers in his mind). That included both Muggles and Wizards.

Harry wondered what it must look like to a Muggle when spells rained down on them. The only time they would be able to tell if a spell had been cast was after they saw the effects. Sure wizards also could not see them, but at least a wizard knew what to expect.

Still the wizards had suffered losses. Dragon hide, while resilient against bullets wasn't exactly freely available, and Mithril was in precious short supply. The average soldier had to make do with transfigured and conjured shields or enchanted stones and metals. At the same time, it wasn't as bad as the losses the Muggles experienced in an all-out fight.

At least they did not have to bother with Africa much. The Muggles were happily doing their job for them! The massive losses suffered throughout the world had, in effect, escalated the violence within the African nations. Everyone was convinced that their neighbour had oil or some other precious resource hidden away. That naturally led to an increase in "freedom fighters" and "messiahs" emerging from the woodwork which then resulted in more violence and killing.

They still had to deal with Asia, though. And it wasn't called the world's largest continent for nothing.

This was where the idea of allowing Muggles to surrender and putting those people to work had paid off great dividends. As the wizards conquered, the Muggles built new cities and facilities for the Empire, assisted by the wizards, keeping expansion at a consistent rate, allowing wizards to concentrate on other matters.

Nobody was under the illusion that all Muggle presence had been taken care of completely. But, with the major cities and countries taken care of and with all the magical beasts that they were breeding, being non-magical was becoming increasingly dangerous. The only way a Muggle could survive now was if they surrendered. And while they were put to work without pay, the fact that they were healthy, well fed, well clothed and warm was a massive improvement to the quality of life that they were previously living in without counting how surprisingly humane their masters were being. They weren't pampered, but they weren't living in squalor either.

The Emperor looked at his sons. He could not believe that they were thirty two and thirty one now. They had risen through the ranks swiftly, Edmund showed great promise in the battle against the Muggle Saudis, while James had done very well in leading the troops in India, distracting the Muggle Chinese.

It was largely thanks to General John Hodgkin's work in Pakistan and James' efforts in India that they were able to march unchallenged through most of China, conquering the land and annexing it to the Empire, before the Muggles realised that there was a serious magical presence in their precious country.

The Chinese Muggles wouldn't have been so distracted had Harry not been contributing as well. The Emperor had found out quite some time back that Taiwan wasn't as capable of detecting magical presence as mainland China. He had also found out that there were some tensions between the two entities.

With a bit of encouragement, the Taiwanese were starting sorties into mainland China in a bid to take over what they thought was their rightful claim over the whole of China.

'What are they saying?' Harry asked in general, cocking his head to the side as he heard the Muggles yammer through a loudspeaker. From the reports he had read, and the fields they had passed (and destroyed) he knew for a fact that the Chinese had resorted to growing crops for use in bio-fuel. Harry imagined it must be a hard decision for the Muggles. Either use the land to feed the people or meet the energy requirements of the country. There was no middle ground.

Everyone around him shrugged or shook their heads. 'I don't think that we have anyone qualified to speak their language.' James finally said. 'Didn't you say you knew a Chinese language?'

'Only some bits of Cantonese,' Harry replied. 'And that was ages ago!'

Just then they saw the muzzles of the Muggle rifles and guns flash, followed a split second later by the characteristic chattering of gunfire.

The soldiers in the front lines flinched instinctively despite being behind wards that stopped the bullets.

'I think I'm beginning to understand what they are trying to communicate now,' Harry said lightly. Straightening, he tapped his ear.

'Form up.'

His quiet command reached every single soldier via the communications devices implanted in their ears. Scrambling into formation, the troops all stiffened, their forms screaming readiness.

The Emperor's armour, like those of the Princes and General Hodgkin, then started flowing upwards, forming a faceless helmet of Mithril. Turning, Harry nodded to his sons and General Hodgkin.

Not needing to be told, the three men saluted and Apparated to their sections.

Harry could hear the General's voice barking orders to his men to start casting shield charms as Edmund and James got their men to start conjuring and transfiguring.

'Advance,'

The army started marching. Stepping through the wards, the mobile shields cast by the defence shouldered the load of the heavy fire. Harry could make out the strain the men behind the shields were feeling.

They were soon relieved as James' men finished the last of their transfigurations and put up a solid stone barrier which was immediately reinforced with unbreakable charms, with transparency charms added to ensure visibility and levitated in front of the troops. They would hold, but not for long.

Halfway through, Edmund's men started acting. The Muggles were caught flatfooted when tigers, cheetahs and other beasts sprang forth from nothing as birds of all sizes flew above them.

Faced with this more immediate and sudden threat, the Muggles diverted their fire, giving the wizards much needed respite.

'Go,'

As one, they started picking up the pace, discarding the shields and raining curses down on the Muggles. From behind, protected by the wards, the artillery team fired off destructive curses with their staves, targeting the few vehicles that the enemy somehow still had up and running.

At that point, Harry Apparated out, shortly followed by the Elites.

The Emperor's Elites were a class above the rest. Handpicked personally by the Emperor, they were all the best of the best in both the magical and physical sense.

They were enhanced by all the rituals that Harry had once performed in his youth. While they were not as fast as Harry, who had the advantage of quite a few years of the magic to hone his body, they were pretty good.

But there was one other thing that set the Elites apart from the rest. For unlike their fellows, these wizards and witches were fitted with the very latest development in wand technology.

The advances in wand technology had not just stopped with the wands that the regular soldiers used. Fully approved by the Emperor (with advice of the council) the wands were not yet available to the rest of the army. These wands, if they could be called such, were no longer the wooden sticks of old to be held and waved by a user.

Instead, the wood had been alchemically transformed and shaped to resemble an oval crystal with the core embedded at the centre.

This crystal was then directly implanted into the spine via surgery.

The upside was that wizards were no longer in danger of losing their wands. They could directly channel their spells through their hands.

The downside, however was that the crystals took getting used to. It was difficult to cast spells as the conventional wand movements of old were now obsolete. This was more of a mixed blessing as on the heels of this came quite a few other possibilities for spells as there were more combinations possible from arm, wrist and finger movement which were far subtler than the comparatively cruder swishes, flicks and twirls of the conventional wands.

Unfortunately, it had been made quite apparent that one crystal wasn't as powerful as an actual wand.

But that problem was easily fixed. They simply used more crystals.

After further experimentation, it was found that splitting a person's wand into seven equal parts (core included) and then converting and implanting them produced the best results than just converting the whole wand.

Thus each one of Harry's elite had six crystals jutting out of their backs covered by their Mithril armour. They all burned in an ethereal colour unique to their owners which could be seen through the seventh crystal embedded into the back of their wand hands. Those few ambidextrous souls had one in each hand with the balance five embedded into the spine.

Rematerializing behind enemy lines, the Elite started laying waste to the surprised Muggles, sowing even more discord as they sent spell after spell into enemy ranks, their Mithril armour reducing bullets to a mere annoyance. This was a standard tactic they had used with great effect over the years to rout the Muggles. Never having Apparated, and not even knowing that something like that was actually possible, the Muggles were thus unused to having their enemies suddenly materialise from behind. Unable to see the curses, they did not have much opportunity to dodge either, not that they could, considering that their reflexes weren't as good as a wizard's.

Harry was a class of his own. With one hand wielding his sword, he easily cut down the foes nearest to him, casting spells with merely a thought, not needing to move a finger to get a spell out. Many had tried to emulate the Emperor, the crystal wands giving them the confidence in their attempts, but they had all failed. While the battle spells did not require much in the way of arm motion, they still had to use those to cast.

Sometimes old magic was still powerful. And so far, nothing came close to surpassing the abilities granted to Harry by him being the Master of the Three Deathly Hallows.

The Emperor did not even flinch as a machine gun erupted behind him. He barely felt the fusillade. The bullets just pinged off the black armour that covered him and his Elites from head to toe.

'Sire, they are regrouping!'

Harry looked around him, they were right. The Muggles had recovered quite quickly, popping up from boltholes they had made. This made Harry a little suspicious. How did they know of his army's tactics? Discarding their guns, Muggles had drawn swords and were beginning to regroup, engaging his men with steel. He couldn't help but be impressed at this. Their commander must be an exceptional man.

Thankfully they weren't out of tricks yet. Harry let the Elites surround him as he raised his hands skyward.

The hissing chants coming from Harry's mouth as he started to weave magic that he had last done when duelling Voldemort were drowned out by the sounds of battle. Finishing the chant, he slapped the ground his left palm.

Shockwaves rippled from his hand in concentric circles, temporarily distracting the fighters.

Nothing happened for a few moments.

Wary, the Muggles were just beginning to shrug off the strange occurrence, when suddenly, in front of their astonished and disbelieving eyes, their fallen comrades started getting up.

The Muggles may have been seasoned fighters and they may have seen their share of death and destruction, but nothing, nothing had prepared them for this situation. People who have been killed do not get up and start fighting you, acting as if the gaping wounds in their torsos and missing limbs and heads are of no consequence to them. What made it worse was that these men who were now after them once used to fight with them.

Smirking, Harry and the Elites Disapparated to their own lines, content to let their reanimated allies do the dirty work.

It did not take long for the Muggles to break and run, panicked and horrified as they screamed about zombies as their magical foes cheered at the victory.

'Let us decamp,' Harry said to his General.

Nodding, the General started barking orders.

Soon enough, Harry was ensconced within the palatial confines of his wizarding tent in a meeting with his officers.

While today had been an undeniable victory for them, they had suffered losses all the same.

As the men and women took a few moments of silence to mourn for their fallen comrades, Harry once again cursed the fact that the Mithril armour was too expensive to make for every single soldier.

As it is, the amount gone into making these seventeen suits for the Emperor, his General, the two princes and the Elites was astronomical. They had virtually cleaned out their stockpile of Mithril.

So the average soldier had to make do with shield charms, and failing that, goblin steel (which wasn't as good as the Mithril) or, alternatively, dragon and basilisk hide.

'Any idea as to why those Muggles were lying in wait for us?' Harry asked once they were all seated. He absently stroked the head of his white phoenix that had alighted on the armrest of his chair as soon as he sat down.

'Your imperial majesty, I have reason to believe that they were not anticipating our tactics,' said one of the officers. 'They had set up those ambush points in order to surprise us. The main army was backing up from the beginning. They wanted us to position ourselves between them and their hidden comrades, catching us on two fronts.'

'How do you come to this conclusion?'

'We've had a few survivors,' the woman readily replied. 'Initial questioning has given us that information.'

Harry hummed. 'Regardless,' he said. 'I think it is high time we think up newer strategies. We are getting predictable.'

This started off a brainstorming session. Most of the new ideas were basically a variation of their current idea of using apparition.

'How about changing our engagement timings?' General Hodgkin said.

Harry looked at him thoughtfully. 'We can use disillusionment charms,' he said slowly. 'That way, they won't be able to see us sneaking up on them before it is too late.'

'We can hide out behind anti-Muggle wards during the daytime,' James joined in. 'although, by nightfall, they will have surrounded us. They might not be able to see our camp, but they will know the vicinity. That damned detection charm that they have been using so far will ensure that our general location is given away.'

'Then again,' Edmund said. 'That is our job here isn't it? We are supposed to engage the Muggles in war to help further our plans.'

'They will try and ambush us at some point,' observed an officer. 'We will have to be careful of that.'

'We can ferret out potential ambush attempts easily with the human revealing charm,' said another. 'So that should not be too hard.'

There was a few moments silence as they all thought.

'What if we use Inferi against them?'

'It won't work.' Harry replied. 'The conventional Inferi are nothing but weak shambling corpses. While a great tool to use to strike horror in the hearts and minds of our enemies, they are quite useless in actual battle. Their aversion to fire will be easily picked up on.'

'What about the ones you created, sir?'

Harry shook his head. 'Those have a very short lifespan. They won't even last a day.'

'How about we use their weapons against them?'

Everyone turned to look at the speaker.

'Ah Petersen,' General Hodgkin was the first to speak. 'I see you have come back from your operation.'

'Yes, sir,' Petersen responded quickly with a crisp salute. 'Sir, I couldn't help but overhear, and so I got this idea…'

'Explain,' Harry said shortly.

'Well,' the soldier began hesitantly. 'What if we take those weapons those Muggles wield … those gums…?'

'Guns,'

'Right … what if we make those things do our work for us?'

He was met with blank stares.

'Animation charms,' Harry finally said, a look of dawning comprehension forming. 'We could affix those guns to some legs or something and charm them to scurry around shooting whatever they see on sight.'

'We could engrave ever-filling runes into the magazines to make sure we never run out of bullets.' General Hodgkin continued. 'Why didn't we think of this before? After all these years … it would have made many of our battles easy.' He snorted. 'Imagine the expression on their faces when they see a machine gun running around firing indiscriminately.' He looked at Petersen. 'That's a good idea, colonel.'

Excitement slowly began to fill in the room as people began to think of the possibilities.

'Of course,' someone said. 'The problem is that we don't have that many guns.'

Everyone seemed to deflate at that.

James, however, wasn't willing to give up on the idea yet. 'Not necessarily. The Indian and Pakistani armies still have their guns. We haven't yet got around to doing anything to them yet. Refilling charms should take care of bullets, and impervious charms should make them durable.'

'I like this idea!' Harry pronounced. 'Let's get working on it immediately.' He looked towards the Lead Unspeakable who nodded in affirmation.

Looking back at Petersen, he said. 'What is the status of our little experiment?'

'Well, sir, the data given to us was right,' the reply was ready. 'It was fortunate that one of the designers of the detection charm escaped the Muggles all those years back. They completely failed to notice our presence and magic use as we raided the nearby village.'

'So they do get confused when a sufficiently large amount of magic is used?' Harry said half-incredulously.

The Emperor sat back for a moment, thinking about this development.

'The village that we ransacked … I want you to ward that place till it is practically radiating with magic,' Harry finally said, a devious smile forming on his face. 'Be sure to put up a nice strong Muggle repelling ward first. I have a plan.'

So here we go! I know, I know it was a long time, but hey! It's finally here! *wide grin*

Anyway, I think we all knew who the Wolf King was, I was wondering who would pick up on Thaddeus ... nobody did ... that is so sad ...

Oh, by the way, my other story, Black Vengeance has been translated into Russian! Tsaessera has translated and put the fic up on her profile page, so if you are Russian or know Russian ...

That makes me so happy!

Till next chapter!

49. Passing on the Torch

An Manhong sighed for what seemed to be the nth time today.

He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, because he was just tired of it all.

True, there was once a time in his life when he was actually excited in general. He remembered fondly those halcyon days when every single second was filled with excitement and adventure.

Those were the days China and his career were ever-expanding.

He had started out as a regular worker in The United Front. That, in Chinese politics, meant that he had no power whatsoever to speak of.

Then came that month: Many would (and did) call it "The End of the Age of Oil" and they would be right, but Manhong was not into grand titles. Although, he did concede that having the economy suddenly shut down, followed by the oil disappearing with the same suddenness does warrant such a title. So, he just called it The Disaster.

Regardless, it was a time of opportunity for The United Front. Ever since its inception, the party never had any power whatsoever. Created solely as a nominal party, The United Front was managed by the ruling party; the Communist Party of China. Its members were subservient to the C.P.C., and the party basically did nothing. There was, in short, no way for The United Front to ever become the ruling party.

That was before The Disaster. In the upheaval that followed those world changing events, the C.P.C. and China like most of the world succumbed to anarchy. Their oil reserves had been drained long ago thanks to the extremely high demand within the country, because of which they had been forced to depend on foreign oil exclusively before that dried up. The infighting and political backstabbing that soon followed within the C.P.C as China practically fell apart only lead to increasing public disapproval and discontent.

Eventually, things came to a head. In a bloodless coup, The United Front overthrew the C.P.C. to become the ruling party.

The powers that be had decided to take over the C.P.C, and continue operating in its name, filling all important posts with their people. That, they felt, would prevent any ripples.

Of course, many did wonder if that constituted as a coup in the first place.

As the new ruling party, it was felt that it would be a good idea to start an ambitious project. And what could be more ambitious than gaining more land?

And so, while their neighbours were reeling under the upheavals, China started to do some land-grabbing. And India was the lucky country they chose first.

Those were glorious days. Days filled with victory after victory as more and more land came under Chinese rule, days where Manhong had metamorphosed from an insignificant cog in a powerless organisation to one of the architects of the expansion. It was he who had come up with the ingenious plan of using the solid rocket propellant they had in their long range missiles and other armaments to fuel their war machine after their reserves had dried up.

Then the Pakistanis started to harass them, making a bid for land already conquered. Suddenly, what was a conventional bid to conquer turned into a three way war.

But Manhong did not let that slow him down, no sir. He had found his true calling here, a natural proclivity towards planning and strategizing as he effectively managed both fronts, keeping the enemies at bay. It was a talent that enthralled many of his fellows. So much so that noise was beginning to be made about him replacing the Minister of Defence, a barmy old fool of a General that was a remnant of the old regime.

But then the resistance offered by the Indians, who had been so long on the back foot, started increasing. Suddenly, somewhere and somehow, they had found a way to fight back, stand their ground and not only stop Chinese advances, but push back and even win. They had even allied themselves with those traitorous Tibetans to form a united front against China.

Thanks to that, the noise finally coalesced into a definite order: Manhong was to replace the old fool and take over the war. The fact that the general had been against the idea of expansion in the first place only served to hasten the change.

It was a good decision. Months after Manhong was appointed, they found out something the old man could never have envisaged.

Manhong couldn't begin to describe the disgust he felt when he found out that those freaks of nature were using the fighting as a distraction to sneak into the country.

At first they did not know what they were dealing with. It was because of the fact that he had his office here that he saw what he first thought was a decoration come to life. After some digging, he had come across an entire section's worth of top secret files that related to the truth behind the deposal of the last Emperor of China.

Personally, he felt that the tales did not do enough justice. Those freaks were truly vile. Not only were they an aberration to the natural order of things, but they also were quite cowardly. Imagine, sneaking in and attacking innocent people!

What was more, he had found out recently that they had another emperor that they had rallied behind. Imperialists … he always hated imperialists. He wondered which one of those fat worthless pigs had mustered enough of those freaks to try and march here.

Thankfully, the device sitting in his office was able to detect magical activity quickly enough. The consequences would have been disastrous, otherwise.

It was thanks to this device that they managed to keep a track of the magical army marching around the countryside. No matter how well they tried to hide, the Chinese military always found them. And the might of their military was formidable. Sure, they had a few incidences full of ridiculous stories of zombies and whatnot, but those could easily be dealt with. They were strong. They were fearless. They will prevail.

And prevail they did. All those wizards had managed to do so far was circle around the countryside, not even coming close to the capital, getting more and more surrounded as they did so.

The only frustrating bit about this was that those wizards did not bother engaging the military for long. They were more than content to hide like scared rabbits behind their wards.

'I keep telling you, this is a trap!'

Manhong sighed. The old fool was still around. Having been dismissed hadn't stopped him from making a nuisance of himself. The old General still thought of himself as some great strategist to rival Sun Tzu.

'No, it is not,' he replied impatiently, his Mandarin as impeccable as the general's. He gestured at the map. 'As you can see, they are still holed up there. All they do is come out for a while, try to cause trouble and then run like the wind the minute they see us. And it isn't as if we can miss them. We are always nearby should they try anything.'

And that was the object of his frustrations. Fighting those freaks was taking far too long. It was long enough that his superiors were beginning to breathe down on his neck. Why, the Chairman had personally reprimanded him the other day. He had even saddled Manhong with the old fool because of what he termed as his "incompetence".

Although, a small part of Manhong could understand where the frustrations were coming from; while they were holding the invaders at bay, the problem was that a great many number of men were being lost on the battlefield. And the rumours kept increasing…

The initial rumours had been easy to quash, but the stories since had become more and more unsettling. The reports of machine guns with spider legs racing around and firing whatever they came across kept increasing as more and more people saw the things. These rumours had then become an official story when a company of soldiers came across five of the … robots (for the want of a better word). The survivors had babbled to anyone they met about the demon robots before being picked up, making any attempts to discredit the stories impossible.

And that was nothing compared to the fact that many villages and towns were suddenly going dark. It was as if they had dropped off the face of the earth. And they didn't have the manpower to scout those areas out properly either thanks to the prevalent threat of the invading army.

They had no idea if that was a cause of the wizards or if another invader had decided to take advantage of their distraction. It wouldn't be too farfetched to believe that the Indians or the Pakistanis, or the Taiwanese or even the damn Tibetans or Thai had decided to capitalise on the sudden silence from China.

'They are giving up too quickly,' the old general replied, suspicion evident in his voice.

Manhong privately conceded that the general had a point. The freaks were giving up far too quickly, considering the fact that they had quite a few advantages. However, he had long come to the conclusion that the wizards simply were putting up a smokescreen. 'And your point is?' he said in a bored tone. 'They have been doing this for quite some time now. Not that I blame them. They are ineffective against our numbers and technology! Why, our guns could punch a hundred holes in them before they could even raise their primitive wands and utter a curse.'

'No …,' the old man said. He stared at the stone screen displaying magical activity in front of them with narrowed eyes.

'They keep popping up all over the countryside,' the man finally pronounced.

'So?' Manhong replied sulkily. 'That's nothing different. Our only problem is keeping up with them, which isn't really a problem since we have enough troops.'

The antediluvian general did not reply for a long time. Suddenly, his eyes widened.

'It's a diversion!'

As if on cue, a loud crash was heard outside the building shortly followed by screams and the loud report of gunfire.

Shocked, both men surged to their feet as a team of submachine gun toting guards burst into the room.

'Sir, we have a situation.' One of the men, the captain, said. 'It's the demons.'

Manhong scowled at the term. The soldiers were far too afraid of such filth.

'What is the problem,' the general said, naturally taking charge, something he was long accustomed to.

'We are under assault, sir.'

'W-what?' Manhong said, flummoxed. There was no way that the freaks had managed to sneak into Beijing. They were supposed to be up north somewhere in the countryside. A glance at the sensors proved that fact. How had they managed to get here?

A few minutes earlier

Beijing had shrunk remarkably in the past few years. The blackened husks of many buildings stood as a mute testament to the riots and public hysteria that followed the fall of the economy and the loss of oil. Tall skyscrapers, once edifices of concrete and steel suddenly had greenery sprouting from windowless floors as people used them to grow vegetable gardens. The roads, once so immaculate, were now potholed, with weeds sprouting up all over the place.

But that wasn't to say that the city was dead. No, people still bustled around doing whatever it was that they did. Only now, the polished businessmen and women were replaced by people in hardy utilitarian outdoor clothing while the sound of the engines of gasoline powered cars and other vehicles were replaced by the soft ticking of bicycle chains.

Farming was the new norm here. People grew food to feed their families, and traded vegetables and fruit with others for a bit of variety.

Once in a while, a truck or van would be heard plying the roads, running on biofuel, their engines sounding loud and harsh.

The locals knew, from bitter experience, not to disturb these convoys. Heavily guarded by the army, they supplied fuel and food to the government and the military that lived within the centre of the city. Aside from a privileged few, access was denied to the average civilian.

In this hustle and bustle, a man sat on a bench, looking quite out of place as he took in the world around him.

Nevertheless, his presence went unchallenged. Few had the time, patience or curiosity to wonder what such an able bodied person was doing lazing around. While such a sight was not uncommon back then, during the Age of Oil, nowadays it was rare.

Over the next few hours, many random men and women stopped by to talk to this man. They would then wander off in random directions. Eventually the man got up and sloped off towards the centre of the city.

There was a clear dead-zone between the city centre and the rest of Beijing that eventually lead to a heavily guarded wall. It was towards this wall that the man walked.

As he approached his destination, he started changing. In one step, he was a diminutive local, in the next, he was a tall Caucasian, his eyes jewel bright and hair black as the various low level disguising charms fell. In a third step, he disappeared from normal sight.

Invisible, he walked past the guards, using a convoy as a cover for his entrance. Heading towards a suitably secluded location, he waited.

In a few scant moments, nine of his fellows appeared in a flash of white fire.

'Thank you, my friend,' Harry said to his phoenix.

With a trill, Mihir disappeared in a flash of fire. Not wasting any time, the Emperor addressed his Elites. 'Right, form up.'

At once he was surrounded by his nine Elites. Closing his eyes, Harry centred himself.

Soon, a field of true invisibility fell over the ten figures thanks to the Emperor's powers as Master of Death.

Not wasting time, they started walking quickly, heading inwards to their target.

'So this is the fabled Forbidden City.' One of the men couldn't help but comment as he gazed upon the entrance that they were quickly approaching.

Harry grunted. From the reconnaissance they had done beforehand by tapping into the minds of many of the Muggle soldiers, they knew that the ancient palace complex had been taken over by the government and now housed their leadership. It was a sound decision. The instrument that tracked the use of magic was housed there, and from what they knew, wasn't portable.

At this moment, the rest of the army was providing a nice distraction, covering their use of any magic, which they nevertheless kept to a minimum.

And this was the plan. While the army had the Muggles distracted, Harry and his Elites would travel to Beijing where they would subdue the government. They would get there using as little magic as possible to ensure the maximum amount of camouflage.

And so it took them two weeks to reach the place via bicycles as their armour and features were cloaked in disguising charms. Their enhanced bodies allowed them to pedal faster and for longer than the average human.

Once they reached the place, they spent a further five days properly reconnoitring the city, casually plucking thoughts from soldiers and civilians alike as they got a good idea about the territory. The magic involved in wandless Legilimency was low enough to go undetected by the sensitive magical sensors. Having the Muggles distracted by large displays of magic from the main army helped matters too.

And here they were; in the heart of Beijing, just outside the Forbidden City, where the leadership was housed.

Invisible to the Muggles around them, Harry looked through the guarded Meridian Gate with a critical eye. He could see the beauty of the palace complex and the gardens underneath the utilitarian addendums put by the government. He hoped that it remained intact after their siege. It would make for a nice place to stay in. Unsurprisingly, the place had relatively few personnel as most of the Muggles were out fighting what they perceived as the larger threat. As planned, the army had upped the ante, increasing the number and intensity of the attacks. The effects of those actions were seen just yesterday in the form of a speedy exodus of Muggle soldiers.

The complex was now very vulnerable.

'Right,' he said softly, knowing that his voice would be heard by the others via their earpieces. 'We all know what we have to do?'

Getting thirteen affirmative replies, Harry smirked. At a thought, his armour started flowing over his face.

'Then let's do it.'

As soon as he said that, the field of invisibility dropped, revealing ten faceless figures clad from head to toe in gleaming black armour.

Not wasting time, the ten immediately broke into a sprint, running faster than any man thought possible.

It took a moment for the Muggles to process the sight of the intruders. That moment was crucial. By the time they thought to bring their guns to bear, the figures were already at the gates.

Three launched themselves into the air, sailing over the walls, spells blazing from their hands as they took out the guards. Landing within the complex, they started blasting apart anything and anyone that came in their way. Bullets pinged off their armour like rain drops on a metal roof.

Capitalising on the distraction offered by their comrades, the remaining seven Apparated directly to the Hall of Supreme Harmony, where they started running towards the Inner Court with superhuman speed. Directly Apparating into the Inner Court was not possible due to the wards surrounding the place. Portkeys were also out due to the same reason.

While they could break down those wards, it was eventually deemed a waste of time as physically punching through would actually take lesser effort and time. Besides, without an actual master to anchor the wards, there was no way that the offensive wards could be triggered. And that thankfully, meant that the myriad of large statues that dotted the complex couldn't be activated.

A blasting curse sent by Harry a few metres from the gate blew the doors away.

Entering, the seven split up. Three peeled off towards the larger three buildings with one mission; to capture the leadership housed within.

One of the Elites, Ursula, headed towards the building in the middle. This was the most heavily guarded one and thus worthy of her attention.

She was one of the three females in the Elites, and the most aggressive of the entire bunch. Like the other elites, she had gone through the rituals that enhanced strength and speed. Like the others, she too had the very latest wands implanted into her back and fused to her very spine down to the last molecule, making the crystals a part of her skeleton. And so, like the others, it made her superhumanly fast with enhanced reflexes and strength.

But that's where the differences between her and the rest ended. While the others were pretty good, Ursula, on the other hand, was just better. For unlike them, she was gifted with a form of precognition.

So using this gift, she danced through her opponents, somehow knowing exactly what they were going to do and when.

Reaching the door, she knew instinctively that there were a ring of guards just behind the doors.

Thinking quickly she made the wooden structures rock hard and then, with a pushing motion, blew them violently inwards, taking out two of the six guards.

Close on the heels of the door, Ursula grabbed the guns of two of the Muggles and crossed them just as they pulled the triggers with fatal consequences.

Pulling the dead body of the Muggle on the left, she used him as a shield as she rushed towards the remaining two.

With a heave, she sent the corpse flying with speed at one Muggle as she punched the other in the face, breaking his nose. Not giving her opponent time to recover, she sent a blasting curse right into his midriff at point blank range, coating the walls behind with his guts.

Turning to the remaining guard who was just recovering from having his dead comrade thrown at him, she grabbed his throat, cutting his air supply off. Her enhanced strength made it easy to lift him high above the ground.

Her helmet receded to show coal black eyes as she sneered at the man. Without comment, she dove into his mind, ripping out the location of the important people in the building.

Losing interest in her victim, she released her hold on the Muggle, dropping the gibbering man to the floor.

Looking at the insensate form of her enemy, she waved her hand, slitting his throat. It was an act of mercy, really, as his mind was broken beyond repair.

Once the Mithril had completely covered her face, she was off to her destination.

'How many of them are there?' the Chinese general snapped out to one of the guards in Mandarin, drawing out a sidearm.

The man hesitated. 'Sir, ten … sir...' He said nervously.

The old man gazed at his subordinate with incredulity. 'Are you sure, soldier? That sounds far too low.'

'I am, sir,' the younger man replied in quick Cantonese. 'I saw it myself. There were ten.'

'They are demons!' one of the soldiers blurted out, eyes wide in panic. 'Our bullets can't stop them. Nothing can stop them! They are coming for our souls!'

'Calm down, boy!' the old man snapped harshly. 'They are only human. I do not deny that they have … gifts, but that doesn't mean that they don't bleed as well as the rest.' He turned to the first soldier. 'Do we have any of our heavy weapons?'

'No sir,' the man replied. 'All heavy weaponry has been deployed to the frontlines along with most of our men … to combat the demons.' He said slowly.

'I wonder who ordered that,' the general said in disgust, giving his supposed "superior" a glare of loathing.

Turning back to his men, the man started issuing orders in an effort to organise the best amount of defence in the room.

Halfway through, An Manhong seemed to come back to his senses. 'I do believe I am the superior officer here,' he said slowly as he got up. 'I give the orders here.'

The general's eye gave a minuscular twitch. Not bothering to grace Manhong with a verbal response, he just nodded to a soldier standing behind his supposed superior.

Nodding, the younger man quickly bought his free hand down on a pressure point in Manhong's neck in a surgical strike. The man was rendered unconscious before he knew it.

'Thank the heavens,' muttered the general. 'I don't think I would have been able to take more of his prattle before I wasted a bullet on his fool head.'

The soldiers all smiled nervously in response.

Their moment of levity was abruptly brought to an end when they heard the sounds of battle get closer to the door.

The men all got into position, the old general cocking his pistol, ready to start firing.

They all listened tensely as the sounds of gunfire were replaced by screams of terror punctuated by the squelching sounds of bodies being ripped apart.

Soon enough, there was silence, except for the clicking of boots as a person, no doubt the invader, casually made their way towards the door.

The soldiers looked at each other warily when those sounds stopped. Hesitantly, they all looked towards the general.

The general considered the situation. By his calculations, the assailant was probably just outside the door. It was possible that the person thought that the palace was clear, or that there was only one ineffectual person (his eyes flashed to the unconscious form of his "superior") in here, which was why they had stopped. He smirked. Well, they were in for a surprise.

Ordering all his present men to open fire at the door was counterproductive as it not only was overdone, but showed his hand early. Thus, the old man nodded to one guard who bobbed his head in reply and hefted his submachine gun.

Stepping in front of the door, the man started firing at the door indiscriminately.

Watching the door turn into Swiss-cheese, the general mused that even if the invader survived this, they won't know that they were walking into a room full of heavily armed soldiers till it was too late.

Soon enough, the magazine was empty. Slowly, the soldier looked at his superior.

The general gave one curt nod in response.

The soldier took a deep breath, steeling himself. Slowly, he crept towards the miraculously still standing door.

Reloading his gun, he took position next to the knob. With one hand, he twisted the handle and pulled the door open, making sure to keep his body covered by the wall.

The door swung open slowly before most of it collapsed into splinters and kindling, the only part that remained was immediately attached to the hinges.

Everybody tensed; fingers on triggers and guns pointed.

However, the hallway was bereft of people alive or dead.

Just as they were beginning to process the situation, a hole blew through the roof of the office. Through the dust, a lone armoured figure dropped down.

Quick as a whip, the figure threw out their hands sending the three men at the door flying out of the room at speed. Not pausing, the figure back-flipped with inhuman speed, heading for one of the soldiers. With acrobatic skill, the assailant somersaulted over the soldier and landed behind him.

The soldier didn't have a chance to turn around before he was on the floor, dead with a hole in his midriff.

Before the solider had collapsed, the attacker disappeared, reappearing behind the remaining soldiers and finishing them off before they could even react. Within minutes, ten soldiers were dead and not a shot had been fired.

The general cursed. Thanks to the confines of the room, their numbers had swiftly turned into a disadvantage. Not only could they not shoot their weapons for fear of friendly fire, but this … person … was too fast for them to even get a decent bead on them. Suddenly, he could believe that there were only ten of them attacking their base. If one was this hard to track, let alone shoot, then taking on ten would be even harder.

'Show yourself!' he commanded, his voice not betraying a hint of fear. Switching to English, he repeated himself. 'Show yourself and face me like a man!'

Suddenly, he heard a sound behind him. It was a soft sound, like the swishing of a cloak. Whirling around, he saw their attacker standing there casually.

The general shuddered. The only indication he could get from studying the figure in front of him was that it was a woman who had done them in. Idly, he wondered how she could see through that helmet of hers. There were no holes for the eyes, the nose or the mouth.

'I am not a man, Muggle,' the woman said in a mocking voice. 'But here I am!'

Pointing his pistol, the general shot the woman in the chest. But to his astonishment, the woman didn't even flinch as the bullet pinged off her armour and blew a hole into the wall on his right. With exaggerated slowness, she started walking towards him.

Panicking, the general emptied the gun's entire magazine, the sound of gunfire deafening in the room. However, his efforts were for naught as the woman did not even break stride as she approached him.

Throwing his useless gun aside, the general unsheathed a knife, readying himself for a close-quarters fight.

This gave the woman pause … for all of a second. With a negligent wave of her hand, the general found the knife wrenched out of his hand. Before he could even process this, the woman flicked her fingers again.

Suddenly, his arms and legs snapped together in a very stiff parody of Attention. Rocking back and forth, he tried to maintain his balance despite having lost control of his muscles.

The woman then came forward and with a dainty armoured finger, pushed him back, sending him crashing to the floor.

The general tried to move his body. However, the only thing he could do was blink his eyes. He watched, helpless, as his opponent crouched over him. Suddenly, before his disbelieving eyes, the metal that made up her helmet started to flow down, revealing her face.

Her straight black hair, cut to shoulder length, framed her angular features that hinted at Chinese origins. She would have been beautiful if it weren't for her pitiless cold black eyes.

'Now, who's in charge here?' she asked imperiously as she looked down at him. 'Is it you? Blink once for "yes" or twice for "no".'

The general took a moment before blinking twice.

'Pity,' the woman replied. 'I really did think it was you. That, by the way, is why you are still alive.' She gazed around herself.

'I doubt any of this sorry lot was in any position of command. They look too much like grunts.' She impaled him with her flat stare again. 'So who is in charge here? Speak,' she waved her hand.

Suddenly, the general found that he could work his mouth again.

'Why should I tell you,' he rasped in English.

The woman only smiled coldly. 'It is in your best interests. If you don't tell me, I will pluck it out of your mind … painfully. That will leave you an insane gibbering wreck. At the end of the day, I will have my information. Your sanity is entirely up to you.'

The old man was silent for a moment. Finally he jerked his head to the desk.

An Manhong took that time to regain consciousness.

'What –' he said groggily in Mandarin as he crawled out. 'What happened?'

He froze at the tableau in front of him. All the guards were dead and the general was down, stiff as a board, probably dead as well. But all that paled in comparison to the woman towering over him.

Meanwhile, Harry and the remaining three Elites made their way towards the north eastern part of the complex.

According to intelligence, this was where the ward stone could be accessed from. While the stone itself was buried deep at the centre of the entire complex, the only method of access was through a passageway from a smaller complex located within the Inner Court.

The main reason that their journey went unimpeded was because attention was focussed on the six witches and wizards causing chaos.

They finally met resistance when they reached the small complex that once housed the Muggle Empress and the harem.

With a negligent flick of his hand, Harry snatched the guns from the Muggles. Not even pausing, he turned the things around and magically pulled the triggers, ending the fight before it even began.

'I am getting tired of these … people.' Harry said in irritation. Stepping over the still-warm corpses, he headed inwards, the guns orbiting the four of them, as pistols floated up from their holsters to join the melange.

While the complex was smaller than the rest of the Forbidden City, it was still large. Containing no less than six different palaces, it could house quite a few people.

Thankfully, their detection spells were more than up to the job of expediting what would have otherwise been a long process of searching.

Following the white trail, the four mages came to a halt at a wall inside one of the palaces.

Harry turned to two of his companions. 'You know what to do.'

Nodding, the two soldiers got to work. In short order, the entrance of the passageway to the wall was blocked off by transfigured stone. Objects primed with explosive hexes dotted the length of the corridor, ready to detonate the minute anyone went past them. To complete the ensemble, a few machine guns with refilling charms were enlarged and stuck to the ceiling, ready to lay down fire.

'This is quite easy,' the Elite working on the wards surrounding the passageway said. 'With a few flourishes, he had the magic collapsing. With a rumble, the wall slid to the side.

'I'm not surprised,' Harry replied. 'It has been decades since the wards had someone anchoring them. The former emperor of these lands might have been a Muggle from a long line of Muggles, but at least there was some magic present in the bloodline enough to power these wards. I am quite surprised that they are up, forget their current strength. Lead the way, Joel.'

'It's a good thing that these wards are weakened.' Joel said after a few moments of silence as they traversed down the tunnel. 'I wouldn't have wanted to bring these things down when they were at full power.'

They did not encounter any more wards in their journey. No doubt the original architects felt that putting anything more here would be redundant. After all, if the enemy had managed to break through the powerful outer wards to reach this place, then things were lost anyway.

A few feet from the chamber holding the ward stone, the two men stopped simultaneously.

'Oho, a dead-man's switch,' Harry said in quiet appreciation. The metal around his head receded, revealing his thoughtful face. 'Sneaky bastards probably wanted to take down whoever managed to break in. The absence of any form of defence so far would have probably put the enemy in enough complacency that they would have happily stepped into their deaths.'

The duo examined the ward for a moment. Joel shrugged eventually. 'I do believe that a Confundus Charm would work fine here. This ward is quite out of date, after all.'

'I believe you are right.' Harry replied. 'Pity, I was expecting a challenge…'

The chamber holding the ward stone was bare save for a large piece of glistening rock rising from the middle.

From where he was standing, Harry narrowed his eyes. Sure enough, he saw a single crystal jutting out from the rock. This crystal contained the blood of the first ever monarch of the land, aeons ago.

Harry almost felt sorry for what he was about to do.

Joel watched with baited breath as his Liege lord raised both his hands. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck started standing up as an oppressive feeling started filling the room.

He sucked in a deep lungful of air when the feeling only increased. Soon enough, he could feel Goosebumps in his head as the hair on his scalp started rising. At that time, he was quite thankful that he was wearing his armour with the helmet covering his face otherwise, he was sure that he would have looked quite ridiculous with all his hair standing on end.

The soldier soon found himself in awe of the Emperor. While he had sparred with the man quite a few times (upon the Emperor's insistence) both one-on-one and with his colleagues against their Lord, none of them could have anticipated the true level of the monarch's power. The magic that was coming out of the great wizard was enough to drive him to his knees.

Suddenly, a nimbus of magic flared around the ward stone, no doubt a final act of defiance. Ancient Chinese runes started lighting up the inside of the room as the stone called upon as much power as it could. It was now a battle of wills.

But The Emperor would not be denied. With a shout, the monarch sent another burst of magic right at the stone. This was enough as suddenly, the room went dark as the shield surrounding the stone vanished.

Panting, Harry looked at the stone triumphantly. His backlit green eyes glowed eerily in the gloom.

Quietly, he held out an armoured hand towards Joel, his demand clear.

Mutely, and still on his knees, the soldier reached inside his belt, withdrawing a large crystal similar to the one protruding in the ward stone. Holding it in both hands, he raised it above his head while keeping his gaze firmly fixed to the ground as if offering a god an offering. Somehow, the gesture felt appropriate.

The crystal rose from his hands unaided, supported by magic.

Catching it, Harry casually pricked his finger, smearing it in blood. Once done, he floated the crystal towards the ancient one embedded in the stone. With nary a gesture, the old gemstone was yanked out and replaced immediately by the new one.

As soon as the crystal sank into the stone, the ward stone and the surrounding room started filling up with emerald green light. Anglo-Saxon Runes replaced their Chinese counterparts as they rapidly spread outwards.

Harry sighed. The feeling of the wards settling into his skin was always heady. Instantly, he knew how much magic the wards needed to get to full power. Concentrating, he sent a few pulses of magic to supply the demand. He stood unaware that the room around him was now bright thanks to the magic. His perception had shifted to encompass the entire palace complex of the Forbidden City. Mentally smiling, he started identifying the enemies to the new wards.

Then he sent his commands.

Instantly, all the statues that dotted the enormous complex came to life. As one, the lions, cranes, unicorns and dragons jumped off their plinths and joined the fray, decimating the already flagging Muggle resistance. The elites cheered as it happened, knowing that the battle was truly won.

Within moments, the battle was over. Those Muggles that weren't killed were all herded together in front of the largest palace of the complex, guarded by the Elites and the statues, waiting for the Emperor to appear.

Manhong took stock of his surroundings. He had been in a daze while they had marched him and the general out to the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Now, he had a feeling that he still hadn't recovered from his bout of unconsciousness. After all, statues that once were stationary don't suddenly start prowling and trotting around you as if they were alive.

What was more intimidating was the armoured woman who was standing over him, the old general and the Chairman.

Suddenly, there was an upsurge of noise coming from the back. Their captors and the statues all sank into a deep curtsey or bow.

Manhong immediately noticed the figure they were all looking at.

The man was armoured like the rest of them. However, it was more than apparent that he was different. Perhaps it was the fact that his armour, unlike the rest, was lined with gold. Or perhaps it was the black cape he wore that fluttered in the wind. But it definitely was the fact that he was standing with his arms folded, suspended in air, as if gravity was something that he could ignore with impunity as he lazily floated towards them that distinguished him as the leader of the group.

'Your Imperial Majesty,' the woman said when the man lightly touched down in front of them.

Manhong understood enough to realise that this was the Emperor, or at least the leader of these people.

The metal covering the man's head started to flow away, revealing messy black hair and haughty features. As if to drive home his status, a golden crown appeared on his head. That confirmed it all right, this man was the Emperor. Manhong had envisioned a fat old man, not this lithe deadly person that practically thrummed with power.

The Emperor looked at his captives imperiously through eyes that were an impossible green. 'Who is their leader,' he said to the woman standing next to him.

Manhong didn't really understand what the man said, but he did get what he wanted when the woman strode forward and grabbed the Chairman. 'He is your imperial majesty.' She said as she shoved the man to the Emperor's feet.

Glowing green eyes looked down at the captured leader of the Chinese people pitilessly. 'Do you speak English?' he said slowly and clearly, uncaring of the filthy looks he was getting from the man at his feet.

'No?' he sniffed. Looking up at the assembled captives, he raised his voice. 'Does anyone speak English here? I need a translator.'

He waited for a response. Not getting one, he shrugged. 'Very well, then. It looks like I will have to pick one of you at random and rip the knowledge of whatever language you speak out of your minds. Unfortunately, the lucky person selected will be left quite insane after this. But since you lot don't understand me anyway, it doesn't matter now, does it?'

He extended his hand out.

'No, wait!' the general called out. 'I speak some English.'

'I thought so,' the Emperor said with a smirk. 'And who may I have the pleasure of speaking to?'

'General Lung.'

'Ah, a good decision, general. You may have just saved one of your men from getting his mind turned into jelly.' He nodded to one of his men who roughly grabbed the old man and forcefully placed him beside the Chairman.

'Now,' The Emperor said lazily. 'Tell your leader, whatever his name is; that he and by extension, his nation, are now defeated. He has the option of ending further bloodshed if he gives his unconditional surrender.'

An Manhong didn't have a hope of understanding what was just said. However, as he heard the general translate those words into Mandarin, he felt his ire grow. The nerve of this, this … freak!

Fortunately, his sentiments were shared by the Chairman as the man gazed at the intruder with hate. 'No!' he spat emphatically.

Harry didn't have to understand the word barked at him, the tone and the expression said more than enough. The monotone translation given to him by the General confirmed his suspicion.

He held up a hand to forestall Ursula before she could reply. Judging by the expression on her face, it wouldn't have ended pleasantly for the Chinese Muggle.

Manhong watched as the Emperor stopped the woman from acting. A feeling of unease grew within him when he saw the slow smile blooming across the man's face. That smile, which showed just a hint of the teeth behind the lips, did not reach those green eyes which flashed quite cruelly.

'I see you need some time to think about our proposal then, Muggle.' Harry said in a pleasant tone. He paused to let General Lung finish his translation, not bothering to elucidate what the last word meant to the old Muggle. 'So, since I am a graceful and magnanimous man, I shall give you all the time you need. I shall wait right here.' Saying so, he turned around and strode towards the throne that sat behind him.

Manhong watched disbelievingly as the man easily sat down on the Dragon Throne.

Ever since the last Emperor had been deposed, nobody had been able to sit on that piece of furniture. The throne resisted all efforts to move it. People who made the mistake of touching it got badly burned, and those that tried to sit on it were painfully repelled.

Eventually, the decision was made to leave the throne where it was. Perhaps the elements would be able to do what man was incapable of doing. Though, that seemed to be another impossible dream as nobody had even seen a speck of dust on the throne.

And now, here was this man, in control of the palace complex, the statues around it, the throne and most importantly, the device that they used to monitor their enemies.

Speaking of which, Manhong watched with everyone else as the woman raised her hand towards the palace where the device was housed. Instantly, the device came crashing out towards them.

They had tried to move it too, but it, like the throne, was quite reticent. Yet, here it was, hanging in the air, as the woman directed it to sit next to the Emperor.

Harry looked at the device. 'Ah, the famed magical detector of China used to monitor all magical activity with great precision. You lot used this quite effectively in the past to oppress my people, didn't you? Ursula's grandmother was one of them.' He lazily indicated to the formidable woman standing next to him.

'She was one of the many that managed to escape your treachery. And she was one of the designers of this artefact. She knew enough to tell Ursula, and through her me, the few weaknesses of your machine.'

The Emperor smiled. 'This device somehow develops a blind spot to minor magical activity whenever there is a sufficiently high amount of magic being performed. Like, say, the movement of a magical army … that gives a smaller party the leeway to run amok in the countryside.'

Harry's smile widened as he saw the look of mute horror on General Lung's face as he turned to translate to the Chairman. That smile took on a smug quality at the look of dawning comprehension and dread on the Chairman's face as he realised how well he had been duped.

'We have been using this weakness to take down quite a few villages, towns and even a small city or two while you lot concentrate on our forces.

'But enough about that, you have a decision to make, and I have to call my son.' Saying so, Harry flicked his wrist.

Manhong watched as a mirror of all things appeared in the Emperor's hands. According to the general, the man was calling his son. Clearly, the Emperor wasn't right in the head.

'James,' the Emperor said clearly into the mirror.

The Muggles all gave a start when they heard the answering voice of his son come from the mirror. 'Yes, dad?'

'We have secured the base of the Muggle resistance.' Harry said lightly. 'However, we are having some difficulties. Their leader is quite … reluctant to surrender. Nothing I say can convince him, so I was hoping you could.'

Harry saw the amused face of his son before the view shifted. A triumphant look came across his face.

General Lung watched as the Emperor tossed the mirror from his hands. Instead of falling like normal, the mirror started to grow. Turning around, it landed on a suddenly ornate base with claw-like feet.

Instead of their expected reflections, the General was surprised to see a battlefield. He instantly recognised his own forces. They seemed to be locked in an intense battle against the enemy. On the surface it looked like his men were winning as their opponents started retreating, many falling to bullets. But the old man was not fooled. A sense of disquiet began to grow within him as he realised that the viewpoint was from behind his own men.

And then suddenly, he heard a metallic clicking sound that drowned out the faint sounds of battle. He, along with the rest of the officials gave out a shout of surprise at what they saw fill the surface of the mirror.

A large number of machine guns with spider-like legs that had so far been thought to be rumour were heading towards the Chinese army from behind. And their men were not aware of the oncoming ambush.

On a prearranged signal, the wizards battling them suddenly vanished into thin air. Before their men could even process what was happening, the machine guns started opening fire.

The general watched, horrified as a pitched battle suddenly turned into a massacre. The guns started surrounding the embattled army as they kept spitting out bullets at a prodigious rate much faster than any human could do. They never seemed to run out either. In a matter of seconds, their vehicles and artillery were overrun by the demonic looking things as they killed with abandon.

The army tried to put up a fight, but it was plain to see that they would soon be overwhelmed within minutes.

With a casual wave of the Emperor's hand, the mirror disappeared, leaving the fate of their men unknown but clearly imaginable. 'I believe that is the end of a good chunk of your resistance.' He said conversationally, looking at the Chairman.

'But anyway, enough about that,' unnoticed to the Muggles, Harry sent a subtle signal to one of his men. 'I am pretty sure I am distracting you from the important decision you have to make! So, I think I will watch what is going on over there.'

Saying so, Harry rested his chin on his fist and focused his gaze at a point far off into the city proper.

Meanwhile the man he had given the signal to had finished giving a prearranged two-word phrase over the communications bud in his ear.

This phrase was heard by the remaining four Elites that were standing on the outskirts of Beijing at the four compass points.

At once, their bodies began changing. Their spines started elongating as their armour started melding into skin and changing into scales of various colours. Wings erupted from their backs as their arms and legs started thickening, ending in wicked sharp claws.

No sooner had Harry finished his speech, than a roar reverberated throughout the city. General Lung along with the rest of the captives turned their heads to look at the source of the disturbance.

The creature that rose from the south featured commonly enough in Chinese mythology that he recognised it immediately.

With a roar, the legendary Chinese Dragon rose up above the city. Its massive wings propelled its sinuous serpent like body up in the air. Lunging, it wrapped its body around a tower like a python around a tree trunk and with a deep breath, released a fireball into the street. With a flex of its powerful muscles, the tower it was wrapped around broke into three big pieces, the top half flung into another building by the creature's forelimbs as the beast flew off.

But that wasn't the end of it. Three other dragons soon appeared from the remaining cardinal points. The general did not know which dragon was more dangerous. One was large and rotund. Flying slowly, it sent out devastating jets of fire as it swiped at buildings with its forelegs. The second one they could see for a few moments had long glittering golden horns before it dived down to wreak havoc at the street level.

But it was the last dragon that was the most frightening. Jet black, it looked very lizard like with a wicked spiked tail that tore out long gouges as it lashed against many buildings. Its flame clearly reached the farthest. Alighting on top of a skyscraper a few kilometres away from the Forbidden City, it ripped open the top three floors with its forelimbs as easily as a person opening a packet of crisps as it stuck its head in and expelled a torrent of fire that reached down roughly fifty floors.

Harry watched the destruction with a bland expression. After years upon years of hard work, the technology that allowed wizards to assume the form of any animal was finally here. There had been quite a few snags along the way at the last minute leading to quite a bit of frustration. But the results were quite satisfactory.

There still were problems, though. For one, not everyone could be given this power. It simply just did not work on certain people. This was the main reason that only four of his Elites had the power.

Perhaps it was the fact that he was already an Animagus, but the technology did not work on him, either. It was something for which the Emperor couldn't help but feel a tiny twinge of disappointment.

Giving himself a mental shake, Harry focussed back on the matter at hand. He didn't really need that power. Although … flying as a dragon looked pretty cool!

'Well, have we reached a decision yet?' Harry called out, getting the attention of the Muggles. 'Not that I am in any hurry, I just have some places to be…'

The Muggle leader did not bother to wait for his general to translate as he prostrated himself on the floor and started babbling frantically.

'Chairman Zhao accepts your conditions,' the general translated, his voice heavy with defeat. 'Just, please …' he waved his hand to the city. 'I beg of you, stop!'

Harry took a moment to look at his captives triumphantly before he raised a hand in the air and shot off a spell that exploded thunderously in a green nimbus of light.

The dragons were quick to notice this. At once, they abandoned their wanton destruction of the city and started flying towards their liege lord, though they did nothing to put out the fires they had already caused. The Hungarian Horntail was the first to arrive as with a few extra flaps of its wings, it settled its large bulk in the compound.

That was intense! a distinctly masculine voice said in their heads as the dragon started shifting shape to human. He was halfway through when the Chinese Fireball and Romanian Longhorn landed at the same time and began their process of changing back to human.

Harry's lips twitched. Developing mind-speech was one of the main obstacles, but eventually the boffins had managed to allow people to communicate mentally as it was more than obvious that animals did not have the same vocal capabilities of a human. Mind-speech was a recently developed variant of Legilimency that they hoped would soon be able to eventually replace traditional communicators. It allowed a person to broadcast select thoughts in the form of words without being able to look into anyone's mind. Unfortunately, it currently had a limited range and was far too public.

Once the large ponderous Ukrainian Ironbelly had landed and changed, the four Elites made their way up to where the Emperor was seated. Lining up, they stood in formation flanking the emperor with Ursula standing behind and to the side as they waited for the rest of the army.

They did not have long to wait, as the entire army Apparated in the courtyard with members of the Chinese military in tow as captives.

Sitting on the Dragon Throne, Harry watched as his men swiftly got into formation, forcing the prisoners onto their knees.

Not even giving so much as a twitch, he conjured two smaller but no less ornate thrones on either side as his sons approached him.

Once General Hodgkin took his position behind him and to the left, Harry turned his attention to the two large mirrors.

With a spoken word, the mirrors darkened to show the faces of the Imperial Council on the left and Parliament on the right.

Crown glinting on his head, and still in his armour, Harry knew that he looked the epitome of a warrior-emperor fresh from battle (which was true, seeing as his armour still bore the signs of battle) as he uttered words that would change history.

'China has fallen. Victory is ours!'

'So what is bugging you?'

From his seat in the living room of the Potter ancestral home, Edmund snorted. 'You know me too well, dad.' Becoming sombre, he continued, staring into his glass of whisky. 'I was just wondering about your plans regarding the Muggles.'

It had been three weeks since China had fallen. Those weeks had been spent managing the change of government as well as stamping out any and all resistance. And the work was far from over. Nevertheless, the Emperor had decided to get back to Avalon with his sons. He had decided that it was high time that the family get together for a few weeks at least.

'I don't quite follow.' Harry said lazily.

'Well, I know of our policy right now. We take those who surrender and annihilate those that fight. I have seen those Muggles and I know that they are working for the Empire. I am just wondering what we are going to do with them once we have finished with expansion. Our state of war has been repealed now, what with Australia and Africa fully under our grasp…' he trailed off uncomfortably.

'In other words, when we have no use for them?' Harry replied after a few moments of silence. 'Well the answer is quite simple. We get rid of them.'

'You mean we are going to … kill them?' Edmund couldn't help but feel a bit disturbed at saying that. He dreaded his father's response.

But Harry just laughed, 'Oh heavens no! We will be sending them away.'

That caught him off guard. 'Er, where to?' he said finally.

'The Americas,' Harry replied easily. 'While I realise that I have authorised what would amount to genocide, I am not going to stoop so low as to kill those who have surrendered. We may not have shown mercy to those who fought, but those who chose to capitulate were not be killed off hand. Technically they are slaves in that they are not going to be paid for work, but they will be treated fairly. They will have their days off, and will benefit from our medical care, while being encouraged to be self-sustaining as far as food is concerned.

'And so, I think it would be bad form to just kill them all off after they have been quite cooperative. That would be a cruel and senseless act. I do not do senseless acts, and while I recognise that I am ruthless, but I am not a cruel man.'

'So I assume that we aren't going to be expanding there.'

Harry stared into the fire for a long time, mulling over his response. 'For now,' he said finally. 'We have four of the six inhabitable continents. The Muggles can keep the Americas.'

Harry wondered how he got to this stage. He remembered clearly the agenda that had been proposed so long back, the full eradication of Muggles. It was radically different to what he was doing now.

He had seen enough of war, death and destruction. With the Empire now spanning two thirds of the world, it was more than apparent that they had won. It was time to be gracious in victory now.

'Of course, that is as long as they keep to themselves. Any act of war is going to be met swift and brutal retaliation.'

Naturally, it went without saying that they weren't about to allow the Muggles any leeway should they decide on vengeance.

As his phoenix trilled softly, Harry reflected that perhaps it was the companionship of the bird that had mellowed him. Of course, age was a deciding factor too. The years had done a lot to cool his blood, even if he was immortal.

'I plan on speaking of this with the Imperial Council in our next meeting.' Harry said thoughtfully. 'That's a meeting that I want you and your brothers to attend.'

Edmund became instantly alert at this. 'You want James and me to come to the meeting?' he asked carefully.

'And Richard too,'

Edmund felt his eyebrows creep up. While he and James had sat in on many of the Council's meetings, this would be the first time their little brother got to attend.

'May I ask why?'

'You may,' Harry said with a little smile. 'In any case, you will find out as soon as James and Richard come.' He looked towards the door. 'Where on earth are they?'

As if in response to Harry's question, the door opened to allow James and Richard in.

Now nineteen years of age, Richard had matured from a heartbreakingly cute little boy into an uncommonly beautiful man. Between the sunny expression on his face, and the boy's veela heritage, the room somehow seemed to light up the minute he strode in.

'You called, father?' he said in a melodious voice.

Harry suppressed a smile. He had been quite involved in his and Lily's life. Or as involved as his duties as Emperor could allow him. And so, he knew of the kid's antics in Hogwarts once he had hit puberty.

One could firmly put down the time Richard had started his third year at Hogwarts by the letters sent home by his teachers. They had stopped complaining about how much he used to harass girls (more specifically, one particular girl by the name of Susan Mac Duarcain) and instead started reporting about various incidences that almost always involved a random female hounding the boy.

At least there had been no scandals as such. Once he had grown out of his preteen phase, Richard had become almost bashful around girls, disinterested in all but one.

Harry had a feeling that he would soon be talking to Lord Mac Duarcain about a marriage contract.

'Richie!' he said fondly, ruffling the boy's hair. 'How did your stay in the veela nation go?'

'It went quite well,' Richard replied, ducking his head. 'I had a great time with Urgroßvater.'

'Ah and how is Herr Mueller?'

'He's great. However, if I am not mistaken, he is looking towards retirement. Also, I think he wished for me to take his place.'

'Oh?' Harry raised his eyebrows. 'And how do you figure that out?'

'Well, he has made me sit in on many of his meetings and asked my input on quite a few issues surrounding the veela.'

'That is impressive,' Harry said, looking at his youngest son with pride. 'Now, sit. I have something to tell the three of you.'

Beaming, Richard hurried towards the sofa and sat next to his favourite half-brother, James. Hearing that pride in his father's voice meant a lot to him. While he was no stranger to his father's approval, something that he got in abundance as he always strived for that, he longed to hear that special tone of pride that was used whenever James or Edmund did something extraordinary. And judging by the stories that he heard of their exploits in the war, they had done quite a few extraordinary things.

A part of Richard was unhappy that the war was over for that reason. He really wanted to prove himself too.

'Now, I am sure you three are all wondering why I have called you here,' Harry said breaking into the individual thoughts of his sons.

He took a moment to look at them. It still felt as if it was yesterday when he was just a noble under the old Muggle-dominated regime bringing up his two sons.

Now … now, both James and Edmund were mature adults. Both of them had found a person to settle down with. Edmund's wedding to Adriana Maria de Albuquerque was only a few months away. James, on the other hand would be having his marriage the next year. His relationship with Rose had fizzled out after a few years. While Harry wasn't surprised by that as such is the case with young love, he couldn't help but feel a slight amount of disappointment. Those two were quite good with each other, despite Rose Wesley's unfortunate parentage. Regardless, James' fiancé, a Miss Eva von Richtoven, met his approval as well.

And little Richie wasn't so little anymore.

Wrenching his mind to the present situation, Harry continued speaking. 'As the three of you know, the war is all but officially over. The Empire will soon become stable and wizard rule will be established over Asia, Europe, Australia and Africa. Once those damned Muggles accept and sign the treaty that is being drawn up, it will be officially over and the Empire shall enter an era of peace. That, I hope, will last a long time.

'So it is with this in mind that I had a long discussion with my wives. At the end of this discussion I have reached a decision that shall impact the three of you and the rest of the Empire.'

Harry took a deep breath. 'Once the peace treaty is signed, I shall officially retire.'

There was a long moment's silence.

James was the first to break the silence. 'Retire?!' he exclaimed. 'But … so soon? I mean, you are just fifty! That is quite young!'

'Hey, I will have you know that I am forty nine!' Harry replied with levity. 'My fiftieth birthday is still a few months away.'

In a more serious tone, he continued speaking. 'Yes, I agree that fifty is too young, it is not even one third of an average wizard's lifespan. However … I have been at this for far too long now. I literally built this Empire from scratch. It has been more than thirty years now, sixty if you count in the time I spent during Instant Gratification. I think I have earned the right to a quiet life now.'

Harry straightened in his seat. 'Now this is what is going to happen. Edmund, you have shown quite a lot of promise the past few years. I know you want Australia and New Zealand so …'

'Actually,' Edmund interjected, 'I think I will leave that to my sister. Ever since she met that Australian bloke she wanted the place.'

'That's true,' Harry replied without missing a beat. 'And that was what I was going to mention too, actually. At any rate, you get Africa. I know you will be able to manage that place well. James,' he looked at his second son. 'You have always wanted Asia, so you have it. Of course, it will require a lot of considerable skill to manage, but I am sure that you will be up to the task.'

Harry then looked at his youngest son. 'Richard. You are still quite young. In fact, you are technically a teenager.' Harry's lips twitched at the indignant look on the boy's face. 'But that's not going to stop me from giving you Europe. Now, I haven't given this territory to you because I consider it a soft option or whatever, so don't even think that. If you have guessed Herr Mueller's intentions correctly, then there is a high chance that you will be the next leader of the veela nation, which is not a light responsibility in addition to the considerable responsibility of being King of the European territories. However, due to your age and relative inexperience, I shall be assisting you till I feel that you are capable of standing on your own two feet. In other words, prepare yourself, because we are going to be working closely for quite some time.'

Noting Richard's fleeting expression of delight at this news, but not commenting on it, Harry continued speaking. 'As for me, I will keep the title of Emperor, and Daphne, my wife, shall be Empress with all the privileges attached. Avalon will be under my direct rule while I keep a very close eye on Australia. Lily, bless her heart, is also just as young, and I don't really trust the guy she has fallen for. And I don't care if he agreed to sign that betrothal contract without arguing about it.'

All three sons snorted. 'I agree with you, dad,' Edmund said. 'In fact, if I could have managed to get away with it, I would be doing that too.'

'Same here,' James and Richard said almost in synchrony.

Harry smirked. His only daughter really was spoilt. And between her three overprotective brothers and him, her fiancé would have to watch his back. 'Ginny and Gabrielle have consented to taking up the title of High Queen,' he continued. 'That leaves your future wives free to take the title of Queen without any issue.'

Harry took another deep breath. 'That is basically the gist of it. We shall discuss this more in detail with the Imperial Council the very next day. Now, it's getting late. So I am off to bed. I suggest you lot retire for the night too, we have a big day tomorrow.'

Splashing water onto his face, Harry looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His was a youthful visage, one that belonged to someone who had just completed the second decade of his life, definitely not the face of a fifty year old wizard.

Not that the average fifty year old wizard looked any older. Wizards tended to age much slower after seventeen compared to their Muggle counterparts after all. At fifty, a wizard could pass off as a twenty three year old Muggle.

The differences were minute, barely noticeable to the casual observer. But to someone like Harry, who knew what to look for, they were all too evident. To him, his skin was firmer, smoother and less lined than that of Neville, Draco, or even Ginny and Gabrielle.

Maybe it was him, but he looked like a kid fresh out of Hogwarts.

On a whim, he took off his shirt. There was proof that he wasn't a kid fresh out of Hogwarts. His muscles were now quite well defined, with a few scars here and there, testimony to the decades he had spent on this earth.

Once he got into the bed where one of his wives were sleeping (tonight it was Ginny's turn) he let himself fully relax.

He had spent decades to his vision, decades ensuring the freedom of his people. In the course of that journey, he had done quite a few things. He had made decisions that he was not comfortable with. Chief amongst those was his ruling on what to do with the Muggles. Quite a few people had died thanks to that…

No.

As he rolled onto his side, he quashed the guilt. True many had died, and that was a tragedy. And they were too many to count, another tragedy. However, he had offered them all a choice: Life or death. Those that chose life were treated fairly. Those that made the second choice … well, they made their bed. Each Muggle settlement had been given ample time to decide before the army moved in. He wasn't going to spare them anything more than a feeling of sorrow for the choices they made.

Now that the Empire was established, he could finally stop. True, Muggles weren't fully eradicated like he had originally planned, but he could live with this compromise.

While he would still be Emperor, he wasn't going to be doing much regarding the management of the state. He would step in only when the people had dire need of him. Retirement did not equal to abdication.

Otherwise, he would enjoy his life. No matter how long it ended up being. It was time to pass on the torch. The only reason he had stayed so long was because he knew that there was no one else. But now ...

Now, he could finally relax.

Let the younger generation run things.

As he let sleep overtake him, Harry hoped that the Muggles saw sense and took the third and final chance they had for peace. If not … well, they would burn. And he would be at the frontlines, as always, to make sure of it.

And that's that. The final chapter.

Now only the epilogue to go, and this story will be completed!

In case you are wondering, yes, Ron and Hermione are going to feature there ...

50. Attack

Hey, everybody!

OK, so some news ...

I initially planned on this being the last chapter/epilogue.

However, that turned out to be really really big.

So ... this isn't the last chapter.

BUT!

I have completed that last chapter, and it should be up by the time you finish reading this chapter ...

So, yeah ...

The minister unrolled a the scroll and read in a booming voice. 'Harry James Potter, you have been found guilty of genocide and war crimes, and the sentencing issued by the Supreme Court was death by beheading. This sentence will now be carried out. Guards, lead the prisoner forward.'

She watched as two burly guards grabbed the shoulders of the slender form between them and dragged him forwards. A smile graced her lips as she watched him struggle ineffectively.

His days in prison awaiting his fate, as well as age and a life of senescence had taken their toll on the man. Gone was the tall imposing figure of yesteryear. It was replaced by a frail and bruised emaciated form, beaten, no doubt, by his fellow inmates. His once thick jet black hair was now thin and white. His clothes, once clean, expensive and luxurious were now threadbare and dirty. Gleaming bracelets on his ankles and wrists stripped him of the ability to use his magic.

All in all, he was a thoroughly defeated man. His power was gone, and his precious empire was conquered.

Anticipation began to well in her breast as Harry was wrestled over the chopping block, his hands shackled to either side by chains.

A large burly masked executioner wielding a massive axe then stepped forth. She noted, with glee, the terrified expression the former emperor had on his face as he twisted to look at the man, pleading with his eyes, unable to speak due to his jaw being wired shut.

The silent plea angered her. What right did he have to ask for clemency, when he had not shown it himself?

As the executioner raised the axe, she closed her eyes, awaiting the swish and thud.

'Ms Dumbledore.'

Huh?

She frowned. Opening her eyes, she saw a large squirrel in front of her, shaking her shoulder.

'Ms Dumbledore!'

With a start, Hermione woke up. Standing over her wasn't a squirrel, but a rather nervous looking young man.

Getting up, she took stock of her surroundings. The large expansive execution room of her dreams had been replaced by the environs of her sleeping quarters.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she ruminated that this wasn't the first time she was having such a dream. She had been fantasising about such things for quite some time now. It was only natural for her conscious desires to take form in the realm of her dreams.

Sometimes she would daydream about seeing him being hung, sometimes, shot by a firing squad and sometimes, when she was feeling particularly vindictive and vengeful, hung naked by his ankles as someone started slowly sawing him in half longitudinally.

'Ma'am, are you alright?' the voice of the young man interrupted her thoughts.

Hermione only replied with a grunt and a nod of her head. She waved away any attempts of assistance, even though her joints creaked and groaned as she hefted herself out of bed.

A hundred years had passed since the imposition of the Treaty of Camelot, and at a hundred and fifty, she was no longer young.

Thoughts of that treaty always got her blood boiling. Even now, she cursed the president of the time for agreeing to it.

Not that they had much choice.

The days leading to that treaty were spent with little to no contact from the outside world. With the various problems that came with the sudden end to the Age of Oil, the country was hard pressed to recover. All methods of outside communication had been long lost as a result.

So they really had no idea what was going on outside their shores. The Americas were, like Australia, quite isolated from the rest of the world. They did not enjoy the physical connectivity that Asia, Europe and Africa had.

However, they did have quite a few good resources in hand. By using biofuel, they had started re-establishing many functions that they once used oil to do. Recycling discarded plastic items, and metals found in discarded electronic items had helped a lot too. It was hoped that they would have enough to start establishing a trade route to Bolivia to import lithium which could then be used in batteries that in turn could provide clean electrical power.

Unfortunately, there wasn't enough biofuel to fully restore trade routes. And that was why they were looking to algae to meet the demand. Algae required lesser space and resources to harvest while giving more fuel.

But things weren't fully rosy. They had to deal with famine and climate problems in the first few years after the oil had disappeared. The crops used in biofuel used up space that could otherwise have grown food crops to feed people. Finding a balance between meeting the energy demands of people and meeting their hunger was quite problematic.

It was because of this that the Muggle government panicked. In a hasty decision, President Johnson, the first president to be elected in an Oil Free World, ordered the magical government to help with the rebuilding efforts. Having been apprised of the situation by his predecessor, he fully blamed the magical people for this catastrophe, and wasn't afraid to let his opinions known. To that end, he demanded things that the beleaguered magical community could not give or had already given. Things like back-taxes (despite the magical world already having paid their taxes) a tax on magic of all things, and (most controversially) an order that made it mandatory for all magicals take up jobs in the government to help with the problems they were facing: For little to no pay whatsoever.

Needless to say, such measures did not go well with the magical community at all.

While they were too few in number to actively fight back, the few citizens of the Magical Federation of Northern America elected to go into hiding. And if there was one thing that anyone could say about wizards being good at, it was hiding. They had centuries of experience at that, after all.

Finding a wizard who does not want to be found was hard enough in the best of times. But with the economy in the fritz, and the anarchy and widespread chaos that came with the disappearance of oil, finding them was impossible. Muggle repelling charms and wards were more than enough, and they were one of the basic things taught at school.

The distance to the nearest colony of the Empire was too great for an individually created Portkey or Apparition, and Floo services to there were cut off. So if people did attempt to emigrate there, they would either have to fly across the ocean by broom (quite a dangerous prospect) or sail by boat (a little safer, but still dangerous).

Of course, that didn't mean that people wouldn't try that. Just because they had not heard any reports, did not mean that anything had happened.

Those wizards that decided to hide out in the countryside would have a much easier job of doing so. There was enough woodland, and various other locales far removed from regular civilisation for a person to hide out in. With magic, it was even easier.

There was no magical way to track down these people either, as the Ministry had gone defunct quite quickly.

Amanda Rutgers lasted only a week after Harry's bid to take over the world.

Her replacement was less tolerant of Muggles and the reason why the populace had disappeared. His first and last action as the last Minister of Magic of the Federation was to shut down the Ministry building after making a public announcement to the citizens to flee. The King of Spain did not even have the chance to bind him with oaths.

And closing the building down wasn't as simple as locking the front doors. By formally declaring it closed, he enacted a series of safeguards and wards that basically erased the very structure of the building and everything within. This was to ensure that Muggles don't get a hold of magical technology should they overrun the government. And as far as the last Minister of Magic was concerned, that was what had happened to the Federation.

So with the Magical Federation of Northern America now officially deceased, there was basically no governing structure able to monitor magic use. The sensors that could detect magic had been destroyed with the building.

But the fun didn't end there. Somehow, word had got out about the existence of magic and wizards. While the public had no knowledge about wizard involvement in the calamities the nation was undergoing, they somehow knew that witches and wizards and magic all existed. This was further supplemented by the otherwise crazy sounding laws the government had enacted.

This caused even more widespread panic in a country already gripped with fear. Many religious groups had started popping out of the woodwork as they went hunting for "witches" or what they thought were witches.

Not having any information whatsoever on the magical people, they had resorted to referencing literature that was so inaccurate as to be fanciful.

The end result was the same as the witch trials and burnings the average modern magical child learns about in History of Magic. Innocent Muggles were rounded up, accused of witchcraft, and … dealt with …

And that was where Hermione came in. She, along with a few witches and wizards who shared her views, got together and began the process of calming the Muggles down.

They started off with the Muggle President himself. After days and weeks of negotiations, they finally managed to make the man see reason and repeal his edicts.

After that, discreet job offers were sent out to interested witches and wizards to help with restructuring.

It was months before they got their first reply. In the meantime, Hermione and the rest were hard at work helping alleviate some problems throughout the country. They had to be careful, however. Anti-magic sentiments were still quite high, and they didn't need a real magic user actually using magic in front of the fearful Muggles.

Things were going along quite well; they were coping despite unreasonable demands from South American nations who were more than happy to exploit their newfound power and demand. Slowly but steadily, they were beginning to rebuild.

Of course, that was Horcrux Harry's cue to come in and mess things up.

Hermione was far away in Nebraska when the news came in from Washington.

The president was quite surprised to find over ten thousand men, women and children suddenly appearing in his backyard.

But that surprise was nothing compared to the letter he received.

Delivered by one of the Muggles that had appeared, the royal blue ink on expensive high quality vellum invited the man to a "diplomatic discussion" that was to happen in an undisclosed location in three days' time. The President was allowed to bring with him five other people for this event. He and his guests were to all touch the letter at precisely ten in the morning, their time. The letter then went on to assure the leader that no harm would befall him should he decide to come provided that there was no aggression on his side. However, it also strongly recommended against not attending.

By the time Hermione had heard the news, the President had already left.

Two days later, President Johnson and his diplomatic party returned with their copy of the Treaty of Camelot and a look of utter defeat.

Hermione had all but snatched the document out of the aide's hands as soon as the Portkey had deposited them outside the White House.

The treaty promised a Carthaginian Peace. Not only were they supposed to pay a tithe that was almost ruinous, but there was a cap on the amount of arms and ammunition that any one of the Muggle nations was allowed to keep, which was practically none. It made the Treaty of Versailles look quite generous in comparison. Aside from an embassy that contained monitors, there was practically no communication from the massive nation.

'How could you sign this?' Hermione demanded, looking at the signature of the President at the bottom in shock.

In response, the Muggle just handed a scrap of parchment with a number written in it.

'See that?' he said blandly. 'That is the number of Prisoners of War that this Emperor of yours has in captivity. Had I not signed this, that number would represent the number of people dead.' He sighed. 'My signing this treaty means the saving of that many lives, as the Emperor has promised to send all those men, women and children here. According to Smyth, here,' he nodded to one of the aides that Hermione recognised as a mage, 'That treaty is magically binding meaning that the Empire will follow through. So trust me when I say that I have no regrets.'

Sure enough, from the next day people started arriving in droves. Some arrived via Portkey, while others came through more conventional means.

By signing the treaty, the President had done a good thing as he had the lives of many innocents in mind. But the resultant sudden drastic increase in population impacted the already fragile economy. Not only were these people unskilled in anything other than hard labour, they had practically no memory of their time before. They clearly had been Obliviated of everything except their names. Most couldn't even speak English.

At the end of the last shipment, there were more than five billion new individuals that they had to contend with. Compared to the data that they had about the last estimated world population, that left about one odd billion unaccounted for. The prevailing theory was that they had all died in the course of the war, however there were some (rather laughably ridiculous) rumours that some of the missing/presumed dead individuals had actually opted to stay behind.

Needless to say, space soon became an issue. The refugees were set up in camps that later became slums which soon gave rise to seedy cities of their own. Harsh laws regarding reproduction had to be introduced to control the population.

But there was one good thing about this treaty. It had caused the various nations (except for a few expected dissenters) to actually put aside their differences and join together to make a whole.

While the other nations had grown bold over the years and had started to take the opportunity to exploit what they saw as a weakened nation, deep down inside, they still looked up to the United States as a powerful country. So when the leader of the country that they had always seen as the most powerful in the world bowed down unquestioningly in the face of this new power, they knew that they had no choice but to follow. And so, they all signed the treaty. Because of that, they had a cause to rally behind together.

The Alliance of the Free Peoples occupied all of North America and most of the South.

There was practically no communications between the Alliance and the Empire. The Empire, as the supposed superpower here, had issued a decree banning any of the citizens of the Alliance from setting foot in their imperial lands (as if anyone would ever want to go there). With the exception being those who were magical. And magical tourists were bound by secrecy vows, not that the government of the Federation ever had the means or the opportunity to track their movements to ask them questions. In fact, nobody knew how many of those tourists had decided to settled down there permanently.

Things did look hopeless …

…At least until now.

Hermione had not given up. Ever since the end of the Age of Oil, she had tirelessly studied and trained. Using the instruction from Dumbledore's portrait, along with the few books that had managed to survive the massive upheaval and riots that plagued the erstwhile Magical Federation of Northern America she had gone from strength to strength in her magical education. It was like she had always dreamed as a girl: knowing esoteric magic that none of her peers ever did know.

Over the years she had finally wrestled the few disenfranchised wizards still present in the country into a new organised community of sorts with laws. She had also, on the side, gathered a few trusted people, both magical and Muggle. The witches and wizards were tasked with locating and retrieving the remaining Horcruxes. Not that they knew what they were searching for. Albus had suggested, and Hermione agreed, that the less people knew, the better. It would not do to have an operative knowing of these things captured by the enemy.

The evidence of Fiendfyre at the location of the Locket Horcrux suggested that it had followed the same fate as the Ring and the Diary Horcruxes. The absence of the snake suggested that either it too was destroyed or, most likely, the soul fragment was transferred to a new vessel, most probably the Sword of Gryffindor. So that left the Lost Diadem of Ravenclaw and the Cup of Hufflepuff.

After quite a lot of missions and research the locations of the cup and the diadem were confirmed. Both were in display cases in the Imperial Museum of Magical History of all places.

Hermione had to admit, it was quite a good, if a bit arrogant plan. The security surrounding those items made destroying them hard at best. That they were in prominent display did not really matter as few would ever think that they were something really nefarious.

It had taken quite a few years, but in the end, they had managed to infiltrate the museum and spirit the objects away, replacing them with cleverly designed fakes that would hold up to any magical scans. As taking them across the pond was far too risky, it was decided that the objects would be destroyed as soon as possible. Hermione remembered the feeling of satisfaction and joy when she got the report that those objects had been destroyed. Even if she did not have the satisfaction of personally seeing to their destruction, she could take comfort in the knowledge that they had been obliterated.

It had taken a few decades before they finally found the last Horcrux.

As the Imperial Palace was out of bounds to the public, it was pure chance that had allowed one of her operatives to spot the famed Sword of Gryffindor being transported within the confines of the palace.

Armed with this knowledge, Hermione then went to the Muggle authorities.

The current President of The Alliance was a completely different man compared to President Johnson. For all his attributes, President Johnson of the erstwhile United States of America was not a war president. Nor was he particularly skilled in diplomacy. He did not have the constitution to do what was necessary. This was why he had made mistakes regarding his dealing with the Treaty of Camelot.

This man, on the other hand, knew what to do. He had listened to Hermione. After all, she was quite a respected figure in The Alliance now. One of the few mages (the new term used for witches and wizards here) the country had.

It was because of him that they had Muggles in the group. Unable to openly support the cause, he had clandestinely funded and staffed her. Though, the preferred term was now "Normals" instead of "Muggles" ever since a law had been passed introducing the new term while decrying "Muggle" as offensive. That was something that the average Mage really did not agree with, seeing as they felt that by calling them Normals implied that their kind were, therefore, "abnormal".

Not that Hermione agreed with them, seeing as she was the driving force behind the law. The Wizards were just being argumentative and overly sensitive.

'Are you ready, Hermione?'

The voice came from a small portrait of her mentor. She had taken to carrying it with her after shrinking it.

'Yes I am,' she replied.

'Good,' said the portrait. 'You know the spells,' the image of the former headmaster waited for her nod of assent. 'Then I guess we go, once again, to tempt that flighty temptress, adventure.'

Hermione looked at the portrait of the old man with fondness and affection. Ron had left her one day, many years ago, not even leaving a note to say goodbye. He had left her behind with their son, Ronald Jr, and disappeared into the ether, never to be heard from again. It was the portrait of Albus Dumbledore that had helped pull her out of the depression that had followed. She had come to look upon him as a father, even going so far as to take his name. She couldn't think of a happier day when he had agreed to that.

And so, Hermione Granger-Weasley was now Hermione Dumbledore; respected mage of The Alliance. Her son had similarly been bestowed with the Dumbledore surname as well. She did not change his first name because a part of her still held a torch for his father.

'Mum!'

The sound of her son's voice snapped Hermione out of her thoughts. Now a hundred and ten, Ronald "Ronny" Dumbledore's once vibrant chestnut locks had gone white while his blue eyes (so much like his father's) shone from under a pair of small elegant rectangular glasses. Unlike his mother, who kept her white hair long, he kept his short. Not that he had much of a choice; the male pattern baldness that ran in his father's side of the family had reared its ugly head and claimed much of the hair on the crown of his head. Long hair just doesn't look good when half of it is missing. Though, he did have a pretty mean long bushy beard that was still grey.

'I hope you made it without any problems?' he asked her after a hug. 'The customs officials didn't notice anything, did they?'

'No,' Hermione replied. She and Albus had come up with a few new spells designed to fool the magical sensors and the Sniffer-Crups allowing the Muggles in their group pass off as magical folk. Not that they would have encountered any, as Ronny had managed to take advantage of the corruption present there to make the guards look the other way. She, herself, was under a few disguising charms of her own design that made sure that nobody would recognise her visage. Not that anyone would be able to. There had been surprisingly no demands for her arrest over the years. It was almost as if Horcrux Harry had forgotten about her. It would be a mistake that he would regret making.

They had arrived in the dead of the night and decamped outside a small forest, where they rendezvoused with Ronald.

Ronald was a deep cover operative sent into the Empire. His mission was to integrate with society, start a regular normal life as a citizen, and build a family while reporting what he could to his mother.

While he was bound not to relay quite a few details of the Empire, nothing was preventing him from talking about the Horcruxes or things related to them in general. And Hermione only cared about that. She did not care at all about anything else.

Her son was quite a smart boy, like his mother. It was he who had come up with the idea of a deep cover operative. After all, the borders were monitored quite closely. It would thus be quite suspicious if a wizard from the Alliance were to be staying in the country for too long.

So Ronald and a few others had crafted a new identity for themselves, years ago. He left the Empire and re-entered as Robert Watterson, a young wizard looking for a job in the Empire. He had then built a life and family around the false persona, even marrying and having kids.

Hermione wished that she could have met her grandchildren, but Ronald was adamant that it not happen. His reasoning was that it was far too dangerous for them to know of her. After all, while nobody was actively looking for her, she was still wanted and still considered a traitor.

Hermione did not like that decision, but she could understand it.

'Right,' he said, breaking her thoughts. 'Get some rest. I will be back in a few hours to pick you up. It is going to be a long journey.' He rubbed his hands nervously. 'I have to go now.'

Hermione understood his demeanour. She was just as nervous as well. Tonight was the night things would finally change for the better.

It had been confirmed that the Imperial family would be gathering at the palace that night. The Kings of Europe, Africa, Australia and Asia would be there with their families. While the presence of the Emperor was not known, the chances of him being there were quite high.

As Hermione and the rest prepared for their journey, she reflected that it would be the first time she would be seeing Horcrux Harry in a hundred years.

She wondered what he looked like now. What would he look like as an old man?

According to Albus, having Horcruxes does not stop the body from aging. Then again, Harry did have Nicolas Flamel by his side to provide him with all the Elixir of Life he needed.

Even if that were the case, she was certain that he would be no match for her. She had trained, and trained hard for all these years while he had rested on his laurels. He probably was lazy, fat and overconfident in his victory. It would be easy to defeat him.

Hermione was looking forward to ending the entire misbegotten family. Without them around, the people here would finally be liberated of their tyranny. Then a new age could dawn, a golden age of peace and harmony.

And she would be at its helm, revered as the founder of a free world.

Of course, she was careful not to say that last part out loud in the longwinded speech she gave her colleagues as they waited for Ronald.

When her son did appear, Hermione could scarcely believe her eyes.

'Is that a … hover car?' she said disbelievingly as she beheld the object before her.

Although the vehicle's swept back wings and sleek design made it look more like a plane minus the engines, she couldn't help but use the term most science fiction writers employed in their books.

Ronald looked at her quizzically. He had not read any of the books his mother had the privilege of reading. 'This is an Automated Transport unit, or "AuTo". Something kids use nowadays till they get their apparition licence. Many adults use it too when they want to take the scenic route, or when a family is going as a whole somewhere. This' he patted the machine fondly, 'Is the Swift, from Firebolt. It will help us get to Camelot quickly with them,' he nodded at the non-magical part of her group. 'And it won't arouse much suspicion.'

Swiftly packing up, the eight men and women boarded the vehicle. In contrast to the sleek exterior of the craft, the inside was furnished with sofas and armchairs, making it look more like drawing room of someone's house. The walls were clearly charmed to allow an uninterrupted view of the outside.

From her seat, Hermione watched as her son just sat down and closed his eyes. Immediately, the Auto rose up without as much as a whisper and they were jetting in north-easterly direction.

'How do you control it?' one of her men, a non-magical asked wonderingly.

'Thought-commands,' Ronald replied. 'I think of the destination, and it complies.'

Hermione couldn't help but be impressed. There were no buttons, levers or joysticks that were typical in machines. And to be able to psychically control it was quite brilliant too.

It was now that she ruminated that perhaps she should have sought out more information from Ronald. She had assumed that the Empire was steeped in the Dark Ages. That assumption was beginning to look more wrong by the minute.

Turning her attention to her surroundings, she noted the changes that had been wrought upon the country of her birth. The place where they had landed was, many years ago, was a part of London. Now, all traces of civilisation had been completely erased, leaving wilderness and a relatively small city that could be seen in the distance in its wake. At certain areas, she fancied that she could see some ruins of the old city. But those scenes went by too fast for a second glance. Suddenly, she sat up. She recognised the building in the distance that they were passing by.

'Oh, that's Lord Londinium's house,' Ronald said, noticing her attention.

'"Lord Londinium"?' Hermione asked absently, her eyes still fixed on the building.

'Yes, the first Duke of Londinium.' Ronald replied. He frowned. 'If I am not mistaken, his name is Neville … something or the other. I can never get the names of these toffs right.'

'Is it "Longbottom"?'

'Yeah, that's it! He is the fellow in charge of the city of Londinium.'

Hermione was silent for a while.

'… Did you know him?' her son asked slowly.

'Yeah,' she said quietly as she turned away from what she knew was once Buckingham palace. 'Yeah, I did.'

Perhaps Ronald heard the tone in her voice because of which he didn't ask any more questions, but the rest of the journey was spent in silence. Eventually, they had joined more vehicles like theirs as they entered a large city that Hermione was told was the city of Camelot.

The first thing one noticed from this city was the abundance of greenery. Almost every single square inch of space that wasn't occupied by a building was covered in some form of flora.

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about this city. The airspace above and (in the case of the few towers that dotted the cityscape) around the buildings was dotted with mainly broom riders with the odd hover car and bus thrown in. Most shocking of all was spotting the odd person flying unaided.

The buildings themselves were very different from what one would expect in a large city. The only thing the various erections had in common was that they all had a sense of whimsy in their designs and they were all done in multiple bright colours. No two buildings were the same and there was no order to which building went where. Even the colour scheme was random. Eccentric additions of various natures could only exist there because of magic.

And Hermione hated it. While she could understand the necessity of creativity, she also was of the opinion that there was a time and place for everything. And this was not a time or place to get "creative"

'These wizards don't seem to have heard of building codes.' Price, one of her "Normal" companions commented as he studied a building that looked a lot like a top standing on its point.

'No, they don't.' Hermione replied shortly. 'Then again, this would probably be the first city that they built. Before this, the largest wizarding settlement was a small village.'

'I think the goal here was creativity,' Ronald said quietly. 'Each building here has character. It certainly isn't like the cities back across the pond where all the buildings are all so similar and drab.'

At this Price snorted. 'The place looks like they ripped the design plans out of a Seuss book,' He said derisively

Hermione, meanwhile, responded with an absent 'Yes, dear.'

Both of them missed the look of momentary irritation that crossed Ronald's face, as a building caught their eye.

Even though it was far away, Hermione could easily recognise the Imperial Palace due to its size and the fact that there had to be at least a few miles between it and the nearest building. That it was one of the few sensibly constructed buildings in the entire city made it stand out even more.

'We have reached our destination.' Ronald said.

Sure enough, the Auto had started approaching one of the tall towers that dotted the city. The defining feature of this tower was that it had an identical electric blue coloured twin next to it, and looked quite crooked and unstable. It was also painted in a particularly bright and eye catching orange colour.

Hermione mentally winced. At least the other buildings were done up in relatively tasteful colours like green and blue.

They alighted on one of the many platforms that jutted out from the tower where they could see other cars like theirs and brooms taking off or landing.

Once they were all assembled, Ronald led them off to the interiors.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she went inside. The soothing neutral colours were a stark contrast to the garish exterior.

That relief soon died a quick death when she saw where they had stopped.

'Why are we here?' Hermione asked the question on everyone's minds. They had stopped at what could only be described as an open lift shaft with no evidence of a lift having ever existed there. She gingerly peeked down. By her estimates, it went all the way down to ground level.

'This is a drop-shaft.' Ronald said succinctly, keeping a very low voice. 'You enter the number of your desired floor here,' he pointed at a keypad. 'When the light there,' he pointed to a green panel. 'Is lit, you step forward and, as the name suggests, drop. A spell will catch you when you reach your floor. But if you want to go down all the way to the ground floor, you don't have to enter anything, you just step through.'

'What?' he said defensively when he saw the looks being sent his way.

It took Hermione a few moments to articulate. 'I am not going in that … thing.' She finally said with an air of finality.

'Are there any, um, elevators?' one of the Mages asked to accompanied vigorous nods from the "Normals" in the group.

Ronald looked at the man quizzically. '"Elevators"?' he asked before it hit him. 'Oh, you mean lifts! No they are only for going up. And for fuck's sake, keep the damn voice and that accent down.' He hissed, looking around the deserted corridor. 'People will know immediately that you are from the Muggle Nation, and tourists generally don't come here, which will attract attention!'

'What about the stairs,' Hermione butted in before an exchange, heated or otherwise, could start.

'The stairs, you want to take the stairs?' Ronald said in an incredulous voice, 'Down fifty floors? Surely you jest! Even if we had the time and stamina, we can't take the stairs because there are no stairs.'

'I'm sorry, what?'

'There are no stairs.' Ronald repeated slowly. 'The builders did not see the need for them. Considering that no sane person would ever use them to go up and down a hundred and fifty floors total, added in with the fact that there are lifts and drop-shafts to go between floors and failing that, landing bays for Autos, brooms, and Apparition, stairs were deemed pointless and a waste of space. So they were therefore scrapped from the building plans.'

The silence that met that statement was deafening.

'These wizards are really stupid.' Price finally said derisively. 'No common sense whatsoever. What if there is a fire, then? Did these geniuses think of that?'

'Actually they did,' Ronald replied readily, this time not bothering to hide the irritation. 'Flame retardant wards and charms are around this place to ensure that there is no danger of a fire.'

'Wards can come down,' Price shot back quickly. 'Nothing is perfect.'

'That is why those wards are tied into the wards preventing Apparition and Portkey travel into and out of the building's interior.' Ronald said smoothly. 'The minute they go down, so do the Portkey and Anti-Apparition wards, enabling those within the building to either Apparate out or go to one of the emergency Portkeys located on their floors. And there are over twenty in each floor. I learned that in architecture school when we were studying the various safety measures employed in large buildings like this.'

Having nothing to say in response to that, the Muggle just sneered. 'Defending wizards now, old man?' he said challengingly.

'What are you saying, Price?' Hermione said in a dangerous tone.

'Oh nothing,' the man said airily. 'It's just that suddenly, I find myself wondering if I have to worry about a trap in the Palace.'

Ronald took a step forward 'I assure you, boy,' he said with a sneer to rival that of the Muggle's. 'That you don't have to worry about my integrity. As for me "defending" them … I recognise that Wizard logic is different from Muggle logic because they have resources you do not have just like you have resources they do not have. Saying that they are bereft of common sense for that reason is not only erroneous, but bigoted as well.'

'Ronald!' Hermione fairly snapped. 'I will not tolerate such language in my presence. You know very well that our Normal brethren consider the term "Muggle" to be derogatory.'

Ronald looked at her sourly. 'I am a grown man over a century old. I will use whatever term I see fit, and considering that there is no societal objection to the term here,' he pointed at the floor. 'I will call this Muggle a Muggle as many times as I please. I won't even mention that I don't see you speaking to him about his bigotry and derogatory language. Now, I'm going down this shaft. Either follow me there or find another way down.' Looking directly at Price he continued. 'I am sure your vaunted "common sense" will help get you down.'

Having made his parting shot, Ronald smartly stepped off into the void, ignoring the gasps that went through the group.

After some hesitation, Hermione and the rest followed suit as soon as the panel turned from red to green.

The magic of the drop-shaft made sure that she did not feel any air rushing by as she plummeted down fifty stories, leaving her clothes unruffled. Before she could wonder about splattering on the ground, she felt herself slowing as she approached the ground floor.

Stepping out, she waited with her son as the rest of them came down. The forbidding look on his face told her very clearly that he had no intention of discussing anything. Not that Hermione knew what to say either. It had been decades since she had last seen her son, after all. Aside from letters, she had not interacted much with the man. All she knew was that he was still a fair minded man who strived for equality no matter what. As it is, he was the only contact they had. He managed the other agents. Whatever they had to say first went to him before reaching them. It limited the risk of an agent being found.

This was when a kernel of doubt started to grow. Ronald really was a stranger for all intents and purposes. There was no way to know that he hadn't turned traitor. He also controlled the other agents. Their existence and wellbeing was only known to them through him.

No. Hermione stopped herself. This was no time for such thoughts. Besides, Ronald was her son. There was no way he would betray his own mother.

Once they were all assembled, the motley group started making their way towards the palace on foot. It was a hard task for them all to appear as if they belonged there. Even the mages in their group hadn't seen so much of magic being used at one time, and that was if one only considered the sporadic bouts Apparition and Disapparition occurring around them as people went on their way. Personally, Hermione did not think it was possible for people to disappear without making any sound. The ear-splitting cracks were quite noticeably absent.

'Those drop-shafts are quite ingenious.' One of the Mages said into the uncomfortable silence that was rampant throughout the group. Price was sulking ever since Hermione had ripped into him as soon as her son had disappeared down the device.

Ronald grunted. 'Yes,' he finally said grudgingly. 'I cannot even begin to imagine the spell work that makes all that possible.' He paused for a few moments, debating on whether to continue or not before talking again. 'Those are the original drop-shafts by the way. The owners of the building were the ones to come up with that.'

'Oh,' Hermione said with interest. 'Anyone I know?'

'They are a pair of quite famous inventors, twin brothers really, even if they have two different surnames. We came out of the Wesley Tower, and the Prewitt Tower is the one on the left.'

'Prewitt …' Hermione muttered to herself. Almost instantaneously, she made the connexion. Molly Weasley was once a Prewitt. Wesley sounded quite close to Weasley, and they being twin brothers meant…

'Fred and George built those towers?!' she said incredulously.

'Yes, Fredrick Wesley and George Prewitt,' Ronald said with a nod. 'I guess you knew them.'

Hermione did not have the heart to tell her son about the blood relationship between him and Fred and George, so she kept quiet.

'What's with all the glitter?'

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts at the comment. Looking around, she frowned as she noticed that everyone seemed to have a host of tiny sparkling crystals embedded somewhere on their body. Some had it on an arm or leg, while others had it on their backs if the hints of those crystals poking out of shirt collars were an indication.

'Crystalline Wands,' Ronald replied succinctly. 'They came up with this development quite some time back, during the formation of the Empire if I am not mistaken. These are the latest,' he rolled up his sleeve to show a trail of crystals on his arm, 'Developed fifty years ago, and quite an advanced form of the original model. I saw those in a museum once. Massive huge crystals jutting out of the body … looked quite uncomfortable.'

Hermione remembered well the headache of negotiating with the Empire for wands. It was almost equal to the headache of finding and identifying young Muggleborn – ahem – "First Generation Mages" to train without the sensors present.

They had no choice but to agree with the premium prices the Empire was charging. William Barnaby, the sole wand maker of the erstwhile Federation was one of the first to leave for the Empire with his family and everything he owned. He had not bothered to train a replacement. Getting another wand maker was out of the question as the Empire claimed that nobody was interested in migrating there, even if it was on a temporary basis. Hermione was sure that it was just a lie. The reality more likely was that the government forbade any of its citizens from leaving.

And all this time, the Empire was selling stuff that they had no need of. Stuff that was outdated, obsolete ... Stuff that should be cheap…

She could feel the anger bubbling in her gut again. The myriad statues that she could see of her former friend did not help matters either. Almost every second statue or bust was his.

She stopped at one of those statues from where she could see the entrance of the Palace. Unnoticed by anyone, she casually let drop a tiny device. Lengthening her stride, she caught up with the rest of her group.

'Right,' Ronald said. 'Here we are.' He pointed at a small posh looking mansion block in front of them.

'What's so special about this place?' Price demanded.

Leading them towards the building, Ronald said softly. 'This is a block of flats located on prime property. The asking price is ten times what I am worth, so I have been told.' He waved his hand at the front door, opening it.

Ushering them quickly inside, he furtively lead them through the expensive looking hallway towards a door that was marked "G-2". With another wave of his hand, the door clicked open on well-oiled hinges.

The group trooped in, looking around them through the gloom. The entire place was empty.

'Right,' he said once the door was closed. 'Before you ask; we are here because this particular flat was bought well before the building was even constructed. None of the residents here know who owns it as it has always been empty. And the reason for that is right here.'

He walked forward to the fireplace where he touched a few spots on the wall. Immediately, the fireplace swung open, revealing a passageway.

'This passageway leads directly to the Imperial Palace,' he said with a flourish. 'And this is our way in.'

Hermione's breath began to quicken. 'How did you find it?' she breathed.

'Lots of work, and a lot of luck,' Ronald replied. 'The original intention of this passage is to act as a way of getting out of the palace discretely, or, in the unlikely event of an attack, escape.'

Price scoffed. 'Why would His Greatness be afraid of an attack? I thought he was quite well-liked.' The disdain coming from his voice was plain to all present.

Ronald chose to ignore the tone. 'The Emperor is a paranoid old bastard. I read that he hired an even more paranoid old bastard by the name of Alastor Moody to help design the place when it was being built back in the day.'

Hermione groaned, 'Mad-Eye Moody?!'

'It took me a year to create a big enough hole in the wards for us to pass through unnoticed.' Ronald said grumpily. 'There were wards within wards within traps within defensive charms within snares.'

'Sounds like Moody, alright.' She paused for a moment. 'When do we go?'

'At midnight,' Ronald replied, looking out the tinted mullioned windows. The setting sun was now obscured by thick heavy clouds. As was typical of weather at this time of the year, it had started out as a clear sunny day and would end as a dark and stormy night. Appropriate weather for what they were about to do, mused Ronald as he saw heard the rumble of thunder. The smell of imminent rain assailed his nose, further confirming the weather forecast.

The team spent the hours leading up to the operation studying a map of the palace interiors that Ronald had purloined. They plotted out the shortest route to the bedchambers where they knew the Emperor would be residing, asleep. Quietly, they memorised the way. Hopefully, they wouldn't be detected till they reached the place.

Once the clock struck the hour, the group started making their way in. Hermione had transfigured her clothes to black battle robes of her own design with a hood that she kept up to mask her white hair. Like her three fellow Mages, she had her wand out and ready. Price and the rest of the "Normals" in the group had changed into black attire and were armed with magically modified but still ancient LSAT machine guns.

Looking at the rifles, Hermione mused that they all had technology that could be termed obsolete here. She doubted that anyone in the palace would take them seriously. Taking down Horcrux Harry would be quite a challenge.

Of course, that was where the modern looking device strapped to Price's waist came into play. It would be the thing that would tip the odds in their favour.

It was a magical suppression device.

Using the principle magic inhibiting manacles were based on, this device could replicate the effects at a short range on an individual. As long as it was on and trained on the concerned wizard, that person would not be able to perform any magic at all.

Horcrux Harry would be ripe for the picking!

After an uneventful journey through the tunnel, they emerged in an underground cellar.

Hermione glanced at the racks containing wine. She wondered just how many people had been exploited just to fill this entire room with wine. The glitzy exterior of the city did not fool her. She could almost feel the exploited and the poor hiding just beneath the surface. And that was just the humans. She dreaded the fate of the magical races like the House-Elves.

They silently crept forward to the door at the far end.

A short flight of stairs and another doorway later, they were in the Palace.

Hermione spent a few moments looking at their surroundings, which were, well, palatial. Not allowing her thoughts to wander, she silently gestured to her teammates and they all started creeping forward.

The palace was quiet at this time of the night as its denizens were well asleep. That meant that they would encounter no resistance as they worked their way towards the sleeping quarters.

And that was when things took a turn for the worst.

Judging by his attire, the boy standing in front of them had clearly just woken up and was probably on the way to the kitchens for a midnight snack. The sleep in his eyes quickly vanished as he drank in the sight of the intruders with wide eyes. He didn't have to be an expert in antique weaponry to know that these people were armed and had hostile intentions.

Half a second passed where the invaders and the boy looked at each other, both of them too stunned to react.

That moment soon passed. The boy inhaled deeply, no doubt to raise an alarm.

Price was the first to react. Raising his gun, he pulled the trigger. Charmed not to make any noise by the mages, the weapon spat a single bullet aimed for the boy's chest.

Fortunately for the young man, he had very quick reflexes. As soon as he saw Price levelling the gun, he dived out of the way.

He wasn't quick enough, however. The bullet buried itself in his left shoulder. Gritting his teeth at the pain, the young wizard dived into a door, closing and locking it behind him. Panting, he brought his right hand up to his throat.

'No!' Hermione said commandingly, putting a hand up to stop Price from shooting the door down. 'We do not harm innocents!'

'We can't leave him here,' Price said heatedly. 'As long as he is alive and conscious, there is a high possibility that he will –'

'INTRUDERS, INTRUDERS IN THE PALACE!' A loud voice, clearly the boy's, came from the locked door, reverberating throughout the palace.

'– do that.' Price finished. He swore colourfully. 'I hope you are happy,' he said to Hermione viciously. Not wasting further time, he signalled to the rest. 'We've been compromised!' he shouted unnecessarily. 'RUN!'

Without hesitation, the invaders all started sprinting down the hall.

According to the map that she had memorised, Hermione knew that they would soon burst out into the Entrance Hall. From there, they could take the planned direct route and go up the main staircase to the royal apartments.

Tomlinson, and his partner Boulos, were patrolling the palace when they heard the warning cry. His heart stopped; that was the voice of the thirteen year old third Prince of Europe.

They looked at each other for a moment and then as one, ran towards where the voice had come from.

At the grand staircase, they saw a bunch of unfamiliar men and women enter the Entrance Hall from the left door.

'HALT!' Tomlinson called out.

He was answered with a burst of silent fire from one of the Muggles. The only reason he survived was because his partner had the presence of mind to erect a shield over them both as soon as she saw the intruders.

Taking cover behind the bannister, he lobbed an exploding hex into the invaders.

'Sound the alarm,' he said to his companion. Bringing a hand to his ear, he called up the team channel. 'Terrorists, Muggles, by the looks of it, have invaded the palace! Protect the Imperial Family!' Looking back at Boulos, he said commandingly. 'Find a way to the prince, use the secret passage. I'll cover you. Go!'

Casting a spell, he looked through the now transparent bannister. He noticed that all but two of the invaders had left. Tomlinson had studied enough history to recognise that one of the interlopers was wielding a machine gun.

The second enemy was no doubt a wizard. And, judging by the old-fashioned wand he was holding, he was a mage of the Muggle Nation.

Traitor he thought viciously. A plan began to slowly form in his mind. If it worked out, he would be able to catch that wizard alive. That would be quite satisfying.

Hermione and the rest of the party ran on through the opposite doors in the ground floor, leaving Ivo and Locke to fend off the guards. Between a machine gun charmed to never run out and a wand, she was confident that it would be some time before they were overrun. By then, Hermione and the rest would have, hopefully, managed to exit the palace and double back to the Imperial Apartments through a back entrance unnoticed. That was supposed to be their secondary route.

They were halfway down one of the many large drawing rooms when with a sudden noise, palace guards burst out from behind.

'We'll hold them off, go!' Ronald said hurriedly, conjuring a barricade for them to hide behind.

Hermione nodded and took off at once, keeping a low profile. Price, on the other hand, came forward to lend a hand. He was almost immediately rebuffed.

'Dammit man, you are supposed to help my mother!' Ronald shouted. 'Do your fucking job!'

Hesitating briefly, Price nodded and then took off down the room.

Meanwhile, Hermione had burst into a large room. Panting, she slowed down to catch her breath. While she was in good shape for her age, she still was a hundred and fifty years old. People at her age were not meant for such strenuous activity. And she did not care what Albus Dumbledore said about how much more fit he was at her current age.

Looking around, she headed left. The large wall there seemed to be nothing but one big window. Hoping that she could get some bearings, she looked outside, only to sigh in disappointment. Whatever view that was normally offered was, at this moment, hidden by the pounding rain.

As for the room itself, there wasn't much she could see. While the other rooms had some light in them, this room was fully shrouded in darkness.

Sighing, Hermione turned around and headed towards the wall opposite. She readied her wand to perform the lighting charm.

At that moment, lightning flashed through the sky illuminating the room with a bright white light and a massive maw right in front of her.

Unable to help herself, Hermione let out a shriek, nearly dropping her wand in the process. Hastily casting the lighting charm, she held a hand to her heart, trying to steady it as she gazed at the massive serpent in front of her.

She relaxed when she realised that it was stuffed. Idly, she wondered where they had managed to get the beast from. This wasn't anything she had ever seen. Looking around, she could spot the head of a nundu a little ways off. It looked like Horcrux Harry liked to hunt. She snorted in disdain. How barbaric…

'Well, well, well,'

Hermione whirled around, heart beating wildly again. The owner of the sinister voice had somehow managed to sneak in while she was preoccupied. Aside from ascertaining his gender, she could not tell much else about him, enshrouded in the darkness as he was. All she could make out was a glowing crystal implanted in his right hand. If she had heard Ronald right, that was the precursor to the current wand technology.

Just then, another flash of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating half of his face.

The man had a thin craggy face, clearly past a century. His short white hair was untidy.

But it was the eyes that were his defining feature. Hermione did not need to see his left eye to know that it was just as brilliantly green as the right one.

She grinned savagely.

'We meet again, Potter,' she said harshly, revelling in the flinch her words had inspired in him. 'This time, you die!'

With a savage war cry, she launched her attack.

Spell light filled the dark room, bathing it in different colours.

In her many training sessions under the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore's portrait, Hermione had grown to consider herself as a talented duellist. None in the Alliance could even come close to beating her. She was also capable of being quick enough to disarm a "Normal" with a gun, a first as far as she was concerned. So it was with that utter confidence in her abilities, a confidence that mirrored the late Albus Dumbledore's, that she entered this fight.

Her standard technique in any duel was to bombard her opponent with a barrage of spells, overwhelming them. Her quickness in flicking off spells did her in good stead and enabled her to discombobulate her foe with ease, leading to a speedy victory. It was this technique that she started off with.

However, her opponent was clearly on a different level. Where she was fast, he was faster, easily parrying and countering whatever she could throw at him, which she was doing at an astonishing speed.

This setback would have caused her to falter a few decades back. However, she had long since taught herself to adapt to the situation. As such, she smoothly shifted to plan two.

Turning on her heel, she Apparated, using a technique of her designing to slip through the wards set up to prevent this.

Her opponent was momentarily caught off-guard, but was quick enough to raise a shield behind him that absorbed the stunning she had thrown his way. Whirling around, he snarled. 'You'll have to do better than that, you bitch!' And just like that, the duel started again.

Hermione was soon on the defensive. It wasn't easy Apparating the way she had, and her foe had managed to land a hit with a general Disapparition Jinx that made it harder to pull that stunt again.

Suddenly, with a cry, he launched a series of spells in quick succession that ended with her being disarmed, her wand arching high over the room to land between the two combatants.

Panting and clutching a stitch on her side, Hermione slowly sank to the floor. Aside from her left arm, which was broken in multiple places, her body was otherwise untouched.

Her foe was quick to regain his breath. Slowly, he walked to her. His face was still covered in darkness, but Hermione was sure there was a smirk of triumph. It was enough to make her sick.

Just then, a distinct humming sound filled the air. Hearing this, the man turned around only to be hit by a blue beam that caused him a great deal of agony.

Breathing harshly, Hermione forced herself to her feet. 'Gotcha,' she said triumphantly.

'Don't bother,' she said over the thrumming sound of the Magic Suppression Device working, as the man lifted a hand, no doubt to send a curse. 'That feeling of agony is your magic being repressed. You won't be able to cast any spell, no matter how much you try.' Looking at Price, she thanked him for his timely arrival.

Walking forwards, she scooped her wand up. 'Harry James Potter-Black, you are hereby placed under arrest.'

'Under whose authority?' the man gasped out, his first words since the duel between them had begun.

'Why, the authority of the president of The Alliance of the Free Peoples, of course.' Hermione said haughtily.

Inexplicably, the man started laughing. 'You can't arrest me, bitch!'

'You will find that I can, Harry,' Hermione said. 'Please don't make this harder on yourself.' She added sadly. 'Once we have you in custody, I will ensure that you get a fair trial, but you will stand and answer for your crimes.'

'I am not Harry Potter-Black, I am –'

'I do not care about any titles you have given yourself, Potter!' Hermione said harshly. 'They do not mean anything to the Alliance at all!'

'Oh will you shut up and restrain him?' Price yelled. 'I cannot hold him forever, you know.'

'Right, sorry,' Hermione said to the Muggle. Reaching in a pocket, she withdrew a pair of manacles as she advanced at the downed man in front of her.

'You delusional old woman,' he said. 'I am not the person you knew as Harry Potter, my name is James Sirius!'

At that moment, lightning flashed across the room once more, illuminating the side of her opponent's face.

With a gasp, Hermione stopped in her tracks. While his right eye was green, his left was a deep blue. She could never forget those eyes. She had seen them in many of her dreams and nightmares, belonging to an extremely unhappy boy who had been cruelly ripped from his parents.

If there was one thing that she had come to regret over the years, it was the necessity of holding Harry's two kids hostage.

Hermione was quick to collect herself, however. 'Well, at least we have one of you,' she said coldly. 'Once we have the rest of your family, we can be on our way.'

James started struggling with all his might now. He couldn't believe that this was happening all over again, by the same woman. Long buried memories of his first time as her captive came to his mind. He felt his pulse quickening. There was nothing that he could do...

Well, as promised, a bit of Ron and a lot of Hermione.

51. Reaching for the Stars

Just then, James heard a voice coming from far away. The next thing he knew, he was being pulled across the hall at speed to land in a heap. His eyes closed as the stress left his body.

Price watched as the old man was suddenly yanked from under their noses to land at the feet of the unidentified stranger. The silhouette of the man leaned over the downed old man, whispering something. No doubt, he was enquiring about the man's state of health. Seemingly satisfied, the man straightened.

Price's first impression was that this was one of the grunts. That was when the man pierced him with a stare.

'I think it is time to shed some light.'

With a snap of his fingers, the chandeliers overhead came to life, bathing the room in a soft golden light.

Hermione threw up a hand to ward off the sudden light. Once her eyes had adjusted she gazed around her.

She found herself in a large games room. The large heads of the two magical creatures looked even more threatening than they did in the dark.

But that was nothing compared to the man standing there.

Harry James Potter-Black, the self-proclaimed Emperor (to her) and architect of the Wizarding Empire stood over his son, fixing a murderous look on the two intruders with his backlit green eyes.

And she knew beyond a doubt that it was Harry. For he looked exactly like the Harry Potter she once knew at school. His hair was still jet black and messy as ever. His face was still youthful and free of wrinkles and blemishes. He was only clad in a pair of casual looking white short trousers that were tied together with a string. The well chiselled muscles of his arms and his upper torso gave further credence to his apparent youth.

And he still emanated the same amount of oppressive raw magical power, if not more since the last time she had seen him. Hermione was quick to notice that there was no sign of any the Crystalline Wands that she had observed in the other wizards here on his sun-bronzed skin.

Price was the first to react. Judging by the reactions of the old woman, this was the man they were looking for. He thought for a fleeting moment that this guy was not as old as he was made out to be, but he easily dismissed that. He had a job to do.

So he levelled the machine at the Emperor, grinning as the man looked at him quizzically.

As soon as the beam hit him, the wizard staggered. 'How does that feel, bitch?' Price crowed in delight.

Hermione watched as Harry staggered, thinking that this fight would at least be over before it began. However, she couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding.

Before she could even tell Price to be careful, the Emperor suddenly threw his hands in front of him with a snarl.

Price, who was still gloating, was caught unawares when an invisible force picked him up and slammed him violently into the wall, then the floor, the ceiling and finally, the floor again where he laid, unmoving. One only had to look at the strange way his limbs were bent to know that all his arms and legs were broken.

'How does that feel, bitch?' Harry said with a terrible smirk on his face.

'Father,' James' weak sounding voice came from his place by the ground. 'I'm sorry …'

'Hush, now,' Harry said gently. 'You have nothing to apologise for. You tried your best. I will handle this. You go and see to your family.'

But there was no response.

'James?' Harry bent over the unnaturally still form of his son. Slowly, he put two fingers on the man's neck. There was no pulse.

A magical scan confirmed his initial diagnosis. There was nothing he could do.

Harry closed his eyes. He had to get his emotions under control.

Green eyes then flicked over to his old friend. Slowly, he turned towards the woman who was responsible for his son's heart giving out. The sight of her face did nothing to fulfil his earlier promise to himself as an immense feeling of anger and rage started bubbling in his gut. The ungrateful bitch dare come here, despite him having let her live? He could have easily found her if he wanted to. That he did not was something that she should have been thankful for. Instead, she hurt his grandson and killed his son.

Straightening, he got ready for a fight. Effortlessly, he suddenly started to rise in the air, before her disbelieving eyes. Still vertical, he floated around her, unsupported, facing her all the time. He came to rest on her other side.

Hermione was shocked at this impressive display of magic. The fact that his body was unblemished meant that he was capable of performing true wandless magic. Regardless, she kept her wand trained on his floating figure. Not giving him a chance to do anything, Hermione launched a blistering offensive as soon as he landed. The room was once again lit up with spells that she rained down on her erstwhile friend.

Harry, inexplicably, did not even flinch.

Hermione stumbled when the first curses actually fizzled out feet away from their target.

And through it all, Harry hadn't even as much as twitched. The emotionless expression on his face unsettled her more than anything.

Frustrated, Hermione started increasing the power of her spells. The jets of light had become noticeably paler; a phenomenon that Albus had assured her meant that her spells were quite powerful indeed. It was something that she felt inordinately pleased about. He would have no chance but to dance now as there was no way he would be able to shield against that.

To her shock, the spells that were approaching him suddenly curved away, went around him, and boomeranged back on their original caster.

Cursing, Hermione hastily conjured a metallic shield as she danced around trying to dodge her own spells.

Meanwhile, Harry had once again taken to the air. He slowly spread his arms. His eyes, inexplicably, burned brighter.

Immediately Hermione's magical senses started pinging. Moving as fast as she could, she parried, ducked, dodged and shielded while wondering what was happening. The only physical proof of the spells was the ripples of air that they left behind, meaning that they would have to be even more powerful than her spells. Extending her magical senses, she tried to discern the position of her attackers. This was definitely the work of many wizards acting all at once.

She was quite surprised and horrified to note that all the spells had only one magical signature, and that signature was that of the man standing, no, floating in front of her.

Just then, an expression dripping with animalistic malice crept across Harry's face. It was then that Hermione knew for a fact that he was just toying with her.

Magical lightning sprang from his outstretched fingers, catching her unawares.

There was no way or chance that she would be able to dodge this. So, she conjured her best shield, and hoped for the best, praying to all the deities she knew of.

Hermione screamed as the energy tore through her shield as if it was nothing and slammed into her body, throwing it violently backwards so that she came to a skidding halt meters away from where she stood.

'Hermione Granger …' Harry drawled as he landed in front of her. He casually padded forwards on bare feet, stopping at her wand. Nimbly picking up the instrument with the first two toes of his left foot, he casually grasped it with his right hand, twirling it in his fingers as he walked towards her. 'Long time no see! You look like crap, by the way.'

He turned his attention to the wand. 'Or is it Weasley now?' he said casually, still examining the tool. 'Oh wait it hasn't been that for a really long time either, has it?' he said, looking at her mockingly. 'Not since old Won-Won left you. No it's …' he pretended to think for a moment, 'Dumbledore! Yes, Hermione Dumbledore.' He snorted. 'It's fitting that you would take up the name of a Muggle loving fool.'

'At least I am not living under the yoke of your tyrannical rule, Potter!' Hermione spat as she tried to scramble to her feet. 'Or is it Riddle?'

She smirked in triumph when he started.

'"Riddle"?' he asked confused. 'What the hell are you blathering about, woman?'

'Oh I'm sorry,' Hermione fired back. This banter was good for her. It allowed her to gather her strength. 'Would you prefer "Voldemort"?'

The look of bewilderment on his face would have been funny in any other given circumstance. But all it did was unsettle Hermione. She expected at least a bit of confirmation in his expression, however veiled it would be.

'Either living with Muggles has dulled your mental faculties or old age has done a massive number on your mind,' Harry finally said. 'Voldemort died nearly fourteen decades ago, you blithering bint! Remember? You were there!'

'Or did he?' she countered.

'Yes he did,' Harry continued in a tone that suggested that he thought she was being daft. 'After I finished all seven of his Horcruxes, I doubt he will be able to come back. Unless he has made an eighth Horcrux and split his soul nine times,' he said contemplatively. 'But since there hasn't been any activity that can be tied to him even remotely for all this time, one can safely assume that he is deceased.'

Hermione was fully prepared to open her mouth and call him out on his lie when the full import of his statement registered. 'Wait, seven?' she squawked, flatfooted.

'Yeah,' Harry said with a shrug. Using her wand as a finger, he counted them off in his other hand. 'There's his old diary, me, the Gaunt Family Ring, Slytherin's Locket, Hufflepuff's Cup, Ravenclaw's Diadem, and Nagini. All of them have been destroyed in that same order. Though I'm a bit fuzzy on the order of the cup, the diadem and the locket … I'm not sure which was destroyed first. I mean, they did all intercept Killing Curses at roughly the same time.'

He looked at Hermione processing this information. Old age really had caught up with her. Her mind used to be much more nimble than this. This woman was now as dumb as her former husband.

'Wait, you … you aren't a Horcrux?' Hermione said slowly.

'Not since the night Sirius died when I was fifteen,' Harry responded. 'Why, did you think I was influenced by Voldemort's soul fragment?' He scoffed, 'As if that puny shard could affect me.' Slowly, he started chuckling. 'That explains so much! Now I know what happened to the replicas of Ravenclaw's Diadem and Hufflepuff's Cup that were in the museum. The curator is going to be so pissed off when he finds out ... he thought they were real, you know. I think he cried himself to sleep the day he found out about the theft after discovering those forgeries that you had replaced them with. The man actually was close to tears when he came to tell me that they were missing... I just didn't have the heart to tell him that they were not real. Although, it would have saved me quite a bit of headache in trying to convince him to just let it go and not pay for it with every Knut he had.'

Hermione blinked, trying to process this new development. 'But – but, you said that there were only three –'

'I never said that,' Harry said quickly, cutting her off mid-sentence. 'If you recall, you assumed that there were only three. I just decided to let you keep thinking that. If I recall correctly, it was because you were being more irritating than normal that day.'

His lips twitched a bit. 'By the way, how did you figure out that there were really seven? Oh wait,' he gave a little laugh. 'Don't answer that. I can guess … a copy of Dumbledore's portrait from the Americas, right?' chuckling, he turned to look out of the window, noticing that the rain had stopped. In the distance, the lights of the city twinkled through.

Hermione seized her chance. Whipping out her hand, she cast a wandless summoning charm at her wand.

Her wand easily flew from Harry's lax grip, landing in her hand.

And it promptly snapped into two.

'You didn't think that I was that stupid, did you?' Harry said, looking over his shoulder at her dumbfounded expression. Fully turning around, he advanced on her his expression darkening. 'Anyway, since you seem to be quite bent on business, let's get to it, shall we?'

Hermione whipped out a pistol. 'Get back,' she said tremulously, pointing the gun at her onetime friend. 'Or I will blow your brains out before you can even think of a spell.'

Harry cocked his head. With a contemptuous look, he stepped forward.

In response, Hermione pulled the trigger. Only, nothing happened.

'Oh dear,' Harry said in a deadpan tone. He magically snatched the weapon from Hermione's hands, holding out a hand to catch the weapon.

'I guess I can think faster than you can shoot.' Smiling, he spread his hands.

Without any warning, Hermione was suddenly flung back. Ropes magically appeared in midair and wrapped themselves around her, completely securing her. Harry hadn't even changed his posture or expression.

Just when Hermione thought things couldn't get worse, the guards came in with the heavily bruised form of her comrades who were trussed up in a similar manner.

'Did you encounter any problems?' Harry asked one of the guards.

'None sire.' Replied the guard as a House-Elf held out a robe for Harry to put on.

'Good,' Harry said as he helped himself into the open robe. Thanking the House-Elf, he turned towards Hermione. 'Well, I guess this is game over.'

'Not quite.' Hermione said in a low voice.

'Oh,' Harry raised an eyebrow, 'and how so?'

'Well,' Hermione said with a horrible smile on her face. 'You see, Harry, over the years, we have managed to get rid of that pesky virus you put in the software. Naturally, we still couldn't use those missiles seeing as you put up Unplottable wards around the Empire, effectively erasing everything but the territories of the Alliance from our maps. That in addition to the loss of our satellites means that there is no way we could ever target any place within the Empire.

'However, that was until recently. You see, if you put a magical tracker on a person and take that person inside an Unplottable location, you still get a rough location of the place. Now if you could make a computer interpret that rough location and say, launch a missile …'

She paused for effect. 'I had such a tracker on my person. And a command had been set up roughly an hour back, before we snuck into the palace. Had we finished the mission, I would have called off the strike, and I can still do that too … if you surrender.'

Harry was silent for a moment. 'You lie,' he finally said. 'A tracker of that magnitude would have been picked up by the palace wards the minute you stepped inside.'

'Not if the tracker was dropped outside, say near a statue a few hundred meters from the palace.' Hermione countered.

There was a tense silence that stretched for an interminable time. Harry noted that all of the intruders were looking at Hermione with shock. One of the men, especially, was horrified. 'How could you …?' he sputtered, 'My children!'

Just then they could hear a screeching sound in the distance. As one, everyone turned to look outside as what looked like a fireball descended towards the large square located outside the palace gates, and more specifically the statue of the Emperor that was built there.

Striking the statue, the missile detonated, lighting the sky up as it did so.

'Sir,'

'Yes?'

'We have a successful detonation.'

The president of the Alliance of the Free Peoples smiled.

'Good.'

'Call the municipality and have them dispatch a crew to clean up that mess.'

Hearing the voice of her erstwhile friend, Hermione opened her eyes, confused.

Her environs were still intact. The palace was still standing, the people still alive and she was still on the floor, held captive.

Harry was speaking to one of the guards. '…And also tell Lord Yaxley that he'll be footing the cleaning bill.' He muttered under his breath. 'What that man's father was thinking, I'll never know. At least it got rid of that statue. Infernal thing was blocking the dashed view…'

As the guard saluted and hurried out, Harry turned to look at the dumbfounded expression on the invaders' face. 'You lot really thought that I just put in a computer virus and stopped at that, didn't you?' he snorted. 'Well, for your information, that was just a little something extra that we added. This,' he jerked a thumb behind him, 'was the original plan. Though,' he turned to look out of the window. 'I really thought that the whole treacle thing was a joke.'

By then, the grounds, along with the entire palace, was lit up, showing the gardens covered with large swatches of treacle, while a large blackened crater was all that remained of the statue. Shouting could also be heard in the distance as lights in residential buildings came on, no doubt by the people who were woken up by the sudden loud sound and bright light. Sirens could also be heard, as Autos, no doubt belonging to the police and other emergency services flew in.

'So,' Harry looked at Hermione with an expression of faux patience. 'Any more surprises?' He looked at her expectantly. 'Nothing,' he raised an eyebrow mockingly. 'Are you absolutely, positively sure? Brilliant!'

He looked at the people in front of him. 'Is that all of them?' he asked a guard.

'Yes, your imperial majesty. These are the ones alive. We have two dead in the Entrance Hall. They have been disposed of.'

'Have someone clean up that filth there.' Harry said, referring to the dead body of Price. 'Confiscate the machine the Muggle is wearing. I want someone to analyse it. And,' his voice turned sorrowful. 'Get someone to, ah, attend to … my son …'

Harry looked at Hermione's people intensely. 'You,' he said roughly, pointing at Ronald. 'Are a citizen of the Empire, are you not? Your talk of children along with the crystalline wand in your right arm more than proves that fact.'

With a crook of his finger, Harry levitated the man towards him. Powerless thanks to the magical suppressors placed on him, Ronald floated to him, magic made sure that he was unable to look away from the Emperor's pitiless emerald gaze.

Sneering, Harry tightened his hold on the man's neck, making him choke a little as he dived into Ronald's mind. Years of experience in the mind arts made it possible for him to not only pierce the pitiful Occlumency barriers erected by his captive, but also skilfully find the relevant information without making his target an insensate insane mess in the process. Harry wanted him to have full possession of his mental faculties to appreciate the consequences of his actions.

Ronald crashed to the floor with a groan as Harry released him. While his sanity wasn't affected, the Legilimency had given him a massive headache.

'All of these individuals are hereby classified as Category II restricted individuals,' Harry finally said, his voice still harsh. 'Send them to the dungeons.'

'Yes, sire.'

'Alert King James' heir about his new status and arrange for his presence along with the other kings and the Imperial Council first thing tomorrow morning. I do not care if you have to wake them up to inform them, but I want them here at precisely six o'clock in the morning. Three hours should be enough time to get out of bed and be presentable. I also want preparations started to ready ...' he paused for dramatic effect, 'The Automations.'

Immediately the guards left the room their captives in tow.

Hermione couldn't help but cry out when her body hit the ground roughly. Looking up, she found herself in a small cell. The floor, walls and ceiling seemed to be made of one block of unnaturally smooth stone. The door in front of her melded into the wall, leaving her in a cube of solid stone. She couldn't even hear the others.

She spent her time in the cell trying to get some sleep. Not that she could manage much considering the hard floor and the uncomfortable climate in the cell. All her possessions had been magically confiscated to be replaced by simple clothes. They hadn't even removed the ropes binding her either.

An interminable amount of time later, the walls turned transparent to show her equally dishevelled and sleep-deprived comrades, and most importantly, two guards who had set up a large mirror.

The surface of the mirror rippled to show a large room lined with chairs on either side.

At the end of the room, there were six thrones arranged in a semicircle. Naturally, these thrones were a step above the chairs in ornateness and size. And the people seated in them were, similarly, a step above the rest in terms of their dress and, more importantly, expressions of abject hatred.

In the most ornate throne at the centre of the semicircle was Harry. He had divested himself of his simple clothes and bland expression he had worn the previous night and had adopted instead, robes of the highest quality, an intricate bejewelled crown on his head and an expression of utmost loathing on his face. Sitting next to him was Daphne, as beautiful and young as ever, with vestments and expression equal in value to her husband's.

Hermione's hopes of getting any form of clemency, however slim they were, just died.

Just then a pure white phoenix appeared in midair with a burst of equally brilliant flames. Singing its melodious song, it winged its way towards the Emperor where it settled down on his lap, demanding attention.

His hard expression clearing momentarily, Harry fondly obliged it with a bowl of berries, petting it as it ate its fill. Satisfied, the bird spread its wings once more and with a trill, settled down on the back of Harry's throne, looking around imperiously.

Giving the bird one last fond and exasperated look, the Emperor turned to the room and started speaking. 'Today, an era of peace has ended. The Muggle nation has seen fit to violate the Treaty of Camelot and has not only trespassed on these lands, but launched repeated attacks on us that have not only threatened the lives of the Imperial Family but the peoples of Camelot.

'Fortunately, these brazen cowardly assaults have been thwarted. Unfortunately, King James was brutally cut down by these creatures.'

His statement was met with a variety of muttering. Clearly, the rest of the room was not happy with that news. Some even glanced in Hermione's direction, no doubt looking at her and her fellows through the mirror set up in the chamber.

'And the story does not end there.' Harry continued speaking. 'What is even viler than this is that our assailants claim to act on behalf of the government of the Muggle nation.'

Harry paused to let the hissing die down.

'Our course of action is therefore clear.' He looked around him. 'War.'

That one word rang around the chamber.

Slowly, King Edmund nodded his head, 'Agreed.'

His proclamation of assent was echoed by the other kings. One of them, a young man who looked particularly grief-stricken, simply nodded. Hatred and anger shone in his eyes as he glared at the captives through the mirror. Daphne, on the other hand, had yet to stop trying to kill the murderer of her son with a glare.

Harry, meanwhile, was addressing the room in formal tones. 'As decreed, the Empire is in a state of war. What is the condition of our troops?'

'Five hundred thousand of our Automations are ready, sir,' an old man replied, getting to his feet stiffly, and showing his military background by the stiff way he held himself. From the looks of suppressed amusement coming from his fellows, it was evident that this was a quirk the man displayed. 'The remaining five hundred thousand should be ready by tomorrow evening at the most.'

'You have till afternoon.'

'Yes, sir,' the man said with a crisp salute. Harry nodded.

'Aside from that, we have over two hundred thousand soldiers battle-ready.'

'Good,' Harry replied. 'Give no quarter. I want every single non magical human in that Merlin-forsaken country eradicated. It is only polite, after all, considering that they did try something like that with us just now.'

Unable to do anything, Hermione and her fellows could only watch the repercussions of her failed mission unfold. They had failed. Not only was Harry not a Horcrux (not that it mattered in the end) but they had failed in crippling the Empire. The end result was a very much alive and very pissed off Emperor sitting in front of her with undeniable proof about the identity of his attackers. The loss of his son only served to piss him off more.

'Begging Your Imperial Majesty's pardon, but what exactly are these "Automations"?' The young king that Hermione had identified as the late James' son spoke up.

Harry smiled briefly at his grandson. 'I think Lord Desmond would like to do the honours here. His department did develop these after all.'

A fussy looking man got up and strode to the centre of the room. 'To those who aren't familiar with the Automations,' he said to the room in general in a wheezy voice. 'The Automations are something developed many years ago on the back of the machine gun constructs that were used extensively during the last stages of the Great War of Formation. This is what was made.'

With a wave of a hand, the surface of a large floor to ceiling mirror rippled to show a monstrous image.

Coming in at seven feet, it looked like an armoured human holding a rifle. However the similarities ended there. The head was a grinning metallic skull with glowing green eyes.

'These were then mass-produced to act as a security measure should our enemies decide to take up arms against us. Their batteries are self-recharging and made of an alloy of Mithril and gold and have a limited intelligence. The guns also have a similar self-recharging battery pack and can fire bolts of explosive hexes continuously for an hour. The body is made of an alloy of Mithril and titanium.'

Abruptly stopping his speech, the man retook his seat, inadvertently leaving a moment's silence in the room.

Harry was quickest to recover. 'Like Lord Desmond said, these things were manufactured in case our enemies decided to attack. They were, in fact, slated for decommissioning in five months as an act of good faith in lieu of the peace talks that we were going to initiate with the Muggle nation upon the hundredth anniversary of the Treaty of Camelot. Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case may be, these Automations are now going to be pressed into active duty as our shock troops.'

'Lord Desmond and Field Marshal John Hodgkin, start preparations for war. I want to be able to make landfall by tomorrow at the latest.' Harry said grimly. 'Use our transportation satellites to send the army directly into enemy heartland. That will be able to give us the benefit of surprise.'

'Sir, what of the collateral?' one of the men spoke up hesitatingly.

'What of it?' The Emperor replied indifferently. 'I do recall saying not to give any quarter. That land is to be wiped clean of every single Muggle. They will pay for this affront! After all, when they signed that peace treaty, they agreed to a ceasefire with the understanding that if they were to initiate an attack against us, they will have a total war on their hands with no quarter given. I am merely following the conditions the Imperial Council has laid down. Do you have a problem with the conditions you, or to be more specific, your predecessor introduced, my lord?' Harry pierced the man with a glare that said that the man better not have any problems with it if he knew what was good for him.

'Ah,' the man stated uncomfortably. 'No sir … My apologies.'

'Good, then it is decided. Now, onto another pressing issue, namely the existence of our … guests,' Harry looked around him. 'I need not say how embarrassing this incident is to our Imperial Home Department. That a bunch of Muggles not only managed to enter the country but commit regicide by killing a sovereign, attempt the murder of one of the princes, initiate an attack on our person, and nearly annihilate millions of magical citizens is unconscionable. Were it not for the steps taken years beforehand, we would not be here talking.' Harry looked at one particular man. 'Lord Dalhousie, I want answers. Figure out how it is that these people entered undetected. To start you off, I have a lovely little file here that I complied after interrogating one of the intruders. He was not only implicit in the attack last night, but one of the main architects of the theft of two priceless artefacts belonging to the Four Founders of Hogwarts as well as the leader of a sleeper cell comprising of Muggle-loving witches and wizards who have come to our shores. You have a month; either find those answers or find another job.'

Just then, the feed was cut off, the mirror showing the shocked expressions on the captives' faces.

The walls then turned opaque, leaving the inhabitants to ponder their fate in renewed solitude.

An interminable amount of time later, an opening appeared in the wall again. Guards then marched right in and seizing their captives, marched them out.

They were unceremoniously thrown into the throne room. This time, Harry was the sole occupant.

'Harry,' Hermione immediately began demanding in a pleading voice. 'You can't do this! Tyranny isn't right! Denying people their freedoms –'

'Oh shut up, Granger,' Harry said with an impatient voice. 'If you must know, regular administration is handled by ministers who are democratically elected. If intervention is required, then that is the job of a viceroy. If that fails, one of the kings steps in. I only step in if all else fails, which has only been once in the past century. So don't go about lecturing me on things you do not know.'

There was a moment's silence. Then, 'What are those satellites that you were speaking of?' Hermione finally said, unable to handle her curiosity.

Harry smirked. 'I see you paid attention to this morning's entertainment. And of all the questions, you come up with that? Very well; satellites are manmade objects that orbit the earth, just like the old Muggle satellites. Only, we can launch ours through magic. If you must know, it was due to the recently invented featherlight charm that this is possible. That spell can negate the effects of earth's gravitational pull without having an effect on mass. Once applied, it is a matter of simplicity launching anything.

'Of course, this led to more research, innovation and discoveries. I won't bore you with the details, but in the end we can transmit magic from one place to another via these satellites. That makes intercontinental mass apparition, Floo travel, mirror communication and Portkeys possible. We have quite a few satellites in orbit dedicated to each function.

'There is a downside to this, however,' Harry said with an insincere smile. 'When a large group of people Apparate or Portkey using those satellites, the amount of energy let out when they reach their destination is quite … devastatingly huge. That was why we have large ports constructed for such a purpose, because that much of energy let out in a populated area such as a city can be a bit … detrimental to people and property.' He sighed. 'Naturally, the military had to find a way to harness that into a weapon. So now we have a few satellites up in orbit that do nothing but send out lances of destructive magic into the earth.'

'Imagine … a sudden explosion right in the middle of a city followed by legions of those,' he waved at the same floor-to-ceiling mirror, which immediately showed the horrifying image from before. 'And that isn't even counting the lances of magic that we are going to be unleashing into those cities that aren't lucky enough to play host to these fine automations.' He clapped his hands in front of him. 'Don't you just love magical technology?'

He smiled cruelly. 'I see the look of horrified surprise on your face. Weren't expecting all this, were you?' he snorted. 'Let me guess, you thought we were some backward nation living in the Dark Ages. I would like to say I am surprised, but that would be a lie … this is just typical of you, isn't it, Hermione? You always had a knack for making assumptions and not even thinking of verifying those assumptions.' He sneered.

'Do you know why all of us were here together under one roof?' He finally said after a long moment of silence. 'James had suggested that it was time to start friendly relations with The Alliance. We were making preparations for that. But thanks to you, our schedule has changed.'

Then his expression turned ugly. 'You killed my son, bitch. It's because of you that my son is dead. I never pursued you and that deadbeat husband of yours, even when I could easily catch you. I left you alone. I did not go after your kids either. Your daughter, Rose, remember her? Judging by the look on your son's face, you haven't even told him about his elder sister.' Harry shook his head. 'Anyway, Rose grew up well-adjusted, raised by your brothers-in-law. She is now living quite a happy life in the city with her large family. In fact, I hear that her second daughter just recently gave birth. I could have punished her for your sins, could have held your transgressions against her the same way you did for my sons. But I did not. You, on the other hand…?'

An oppressive feeling began to saturate the air in the room as Harry became angrier and angrier.

'Let me show you how it feels, shall I?' he said softly.

Without warning, Ronald's abdomen burst out, spilling his guts on the floor.

Hermione screamed out loud. She struggled ineffectually against her bindings as she watched her son slowly slump forwards in his own blood, gore and bodily fluids. The only reason he had not fully collapsed was because his knees were magically fixed to the floor.

Harry crouched over the dying man. 'As you die, know that your family is going to suffer the same fate.' He whispered harshly, internally loving the anguish his lie was causing the turncoat. 'I hate traitors.'

'Take her to the dungeons.' Harry said to the guards. 'Put the body of this filth with her. Let her and her fellow Category II restricted individuals watch the destruction of her beloved Muggle nation before they are executed.'

President Kalani Paŭlo of the Alliance of the Free Peoples smiled graciously as yet another toast went up in his name.

It was barely two days since the news about the successful crippling of the Empire had been disseminated. The monitors of the Empire had left quite hurriedly since, further indicating success.

As Dumbledore said, this was the beginning of a new age. Finally, those freaks would be put in their place and normal people could get on with their lives. Of course, there was a lot of planning to be done for this to happen, and the possibility that neither he nor his heirs would see full victory was strong, but it was a start.

Quietly excusing himself, he went outside to get some fresh air.

It was a beautiful night. The stars were twinkling in their millions in the clear sky. Down below, he could see the lights of the capital twinkling merrily.

Sighing once more, he looked up to the sky.

He did not notice one of the myriad stars suddenly move in an anomalous fashion.

But he did notice when that star started to brighten.

'What the –?'

Suddenly a blue beam of energy lanced down from the heavens right into the centre of the city below. This was shortly followed by an explosion so bright that it momentarily turned night into day, and so loud that he could feel the tremors all the way from where he was standing.

It was enough to get the entire party out of the house and join him.

'What the hell was that?' one of the people said. Someone aimed the large pair of astronomical binoculars installed there at the now darkened city. The explosion had not only decimated the city centre, but caused a massive blackout in the rest of the city. Exclamations of surprise could be heard from the few denizens within the house behind when it was suddenly bathed in darkness, the lights having failed.

'Sir, you should see this,' the man said in a trembling voice as he handed the President the telescopic device.

What the President saw took his breath away.

The only reason he could see the city centre was because of a ring of fire caused by the explosion. Without that fire, he doubted he would be able to see a contingent of what only could be robots. Their grinning skull-like heads were as terrifying as their emerald green eyes. In their hands, they held very futuristic looking guns.

Suddenly they started moving. Their gait was surprisingly agile and fluid for machines, or at least the machines he had seen in the films (he was an antique film enthusiast and was addicted to the science fiction genre of the late twentieth century).

They opened fire the minute they reached the periphery of the impact site where they saw their first human.

Green flashes of light erupted from their guns, burning through living tissue and concrete as if it was paper.

Meanwhile, one of the party guests had bought another pair of binoculars. The light caused by the ongoing destruction allowed him to see more.

'Sir, there are people at the back.'

The President trained his field glasses there. Sure enough, there were humans at the back standing still.

Suddenly, a pair of leathery bat-like wings sprouted from the back of two of those individuals as a third grew dark fur while the fourth person's body started elongating. They all seemed to be changing into animals.

Soon enough, the President did not need his binoculars. He could see the dragons that replaced two of those people easily. The fire they belched out into the air was incredibly noticeable in the darkness. A quick glance through the binoculars showed a massive serpent and a humongous leopard-like creature illuminated by the dragon fire.

'We are under attack!' The President finally said in shock.

'Astute observation, Muggle,'

As one, they all turned around to see five armoured figures floating in the air above them.

The one in the centre was clearly a leader of some sort, his rank denoted by the black cloak fluttering behind him. As the figures descended, light from the candles within the house was caught by the golden lines in the supposed leader's otherwise black armour.

The faceless helmet flowed away from the leader's face, revealing an aristocratic face and eyes that were glowing in the same shade of green as the machines below.

'Hello, Mr President,' the man said mockingly. 'Let me introduce myself. I am Harry, the first Emperor of the Wizarding Empire. The man whose family and people you tried and failed to exterminate two days back. I am also the same Emperor your stooges tried and failed to kill.'

He slowly unsheathed a jewel encrusted sword. 'As per the terms of our agreement, since you broke the treaty, we give you total war. No quarter …'

With a cry, security guards unleashed fire on the five. Unfortunately, the bullets pinged off the armour, not even making a dent.

With sudden speed, the four men flanking the Emperor rushed off, making short work of the security team. Their job done, they dashed off inside the house. Screams could be heard from inside amongst the smashing of furniture. One of the bedroom windows was suddenly spattered in blood, adding further horror to the tableau.

The Emperor, meanwhile, just looked towards the house. Shortly, the three snipers that were placed in the house and one of the trees in the property landed at their feet, bereft of their guns.

With three slashes of his sword, the Emperor decapitated the Muggles. Without even moving, he slashed the throats of the remaining guests that were accompanying the President.

Soon enough, President Kalani Paŭlo of the Alliance of the Free Peoples was the only person standing in the garden as his security detail and guests slowly bled out onto the grass.

'Please,' he pleaded, sinking to his knees.

'Are you asking for mercy?' Harry asked derisively. He barked out a laugh. 'We had left you and yours alone, Muggle, till you attacked us. We even were about to change the Treaty of Camelot in a few months' time which would lift the many restrictions placed on you.'

He looked at the man. 'We have a saying in the Empire: "Never tickle a sleeping dragon" … now you die for your foolish actions.'

That was the last words President Kalani Paŭlo of the Alliance of the Free Peoples heard before he was gored with the sword.

Harry sat at his study, watching the sun rise.

He sighed. While he had anticipated this, the fact that he had managed to outlive one of his sons filled him with sadness and grief.

He and Daphne had not aged at all over the past century. They had managed to outlive Ginny and Gabrielle, who, like their children, had aged visibly. His other two wives, like his oldest son, had been taken away before their time. Ginny had died due to unforeseen complications in childbirth. At least they had managed to save the baby. Gabrielle had taken the loss far too personally and had just … wasted away.

Harry had discovered long back ago that being Master of Death did not mean immortality. It only meant that on the day they tired of life on the mortal plane, he and Daphne could move on.

But that day was far away in the future.

On that thought, he picked up the report in front of him. Magical computers had long been invented and had fully replaced parchment. While they could mimic the feel of parchment, he still missed the real stuff.

But at that moment, he did not care about all of that. The contents of the report within the computer more than held his attention and interest.

It had started on the back of the Featherlight Charm that made it possible for satellites to be launched into space and had mushroomed from there.

Sixty years back, they had managed to land a wizard on the moon. Ten years later, they had sent probes towards Mars. It took nearly a year for that first expedition to reach the planet. A lot of experimentation with magic later, the time it took the next probe to land was shortened by half.

All that led to this moment now. Harry looked at the picture of the spaceship. This would be the first manned mission to Mars. And The Emperor and Empress of Earth (for that is what he would be by the time the craft left) would be on board.

The goal of this historical mission: applying climate control charms and wards on a grander, planetary scale.

In essence, they were going to attempt terraforming Mars.

It was times like this that Harry was happy that he had engineered the creation of the Empire. True, many had died, and their deaths did weigh on his conscience. However, one look at what had happened so far more than assuaged any guilt he felt.

Harry breathed in deeply. True, this was no utopia. Corruption, the bane of every government, and a necessary evil, was there, as was unemployment, crime and poverty. But those factors were markedly reduced compared to what was around in the Muggle Age. Besides, there was nothing that could be done about it. He still remembered the article published a few decades back called the Timken-Cooper Article. In a nutshell, the paper had found that corruption was actually essential to the working of any government. There was no way to eliminate it fully, it could only be contained. The same held true for crime, unemployment and poverty.

The air was so much fresher, water bodies were free of contamination and the night time skies were clear, a far cry from the days of pollution that marked the era of Muggle rule. Many formerly endangered species were now thriving as the environment fully healed. Magic truly was in the air ... And in the water and land as well.

And now … now, they were going for the stars…

Afterword

When I started this story nearly four years ago (damn, I cannot believe that it was that long!) I had no experience in writing (other than the odd English essay).

Then I read Dethryl's work which inspired me for "Be Careful What You Wish For". That was initially going to be it for me, and then …

Then I visualised the ending, which you see in chapters 51 and 52.

One of my favourite authors, Jeffery Archer, once said that the key to a good story (or any story) is having an ending. The beginning, while important, isn't as crucial as the ending. Once you have that, all you have to do is connect the beginning to this end. Whatever else happens, happens, and is part of the story.

So yeah; I knew how it was going to end all those years ago. I did not anticipate quite a few things in and about the story…

…A good example would be the number of chapters…

So to all you future writers out there who have an idea for a story … a little bit of advice: start from the end. This isn't just from me, but from one of the greatest authors of the time. And since he has managed to write quite a few books, most of which have become number 1 bestsellers in the world ... I think he knows what he is talking about!

Anyway, a bit of thanks to:

1. Dethryl for his They Shook Hands series which started me on this story. I look forward to the day they are fully complete.

2. Miss Lalla, for those times she was there to proofread my chapters

2. Opopanax, for being my sounding board

3. Firephoenix for being another sounding board and beta.

and

4. Scott Marshall for sitting down and explaining the intricacies of economics to a guy who has done biology

And if anyone is interested, I used the following links to help my story along:

www. britroyals .com: this website has a nice detailed history of all the kings and queens of Britain all the way from 700 AD. It also includes a nice little summary about those kings, and how they are related to the current queen.

www. jobev title. Html: this is a document that explains all about the intricacies of the titles used in British aristocracy. Is someone Lord James or Lord Potter? Is an earl more important than a viscount? Why is the last name of a noble different from his place name? … What is a place name? … All of these questions can be answered in this site.

You just have to get over the fact that the author of the article is a regency romance novelist … *ahem*

There is a lovely national geographic documentary that speculates on a world without oil. Check it out. It will give you nightmares. And you might also decide to use your car less and conserve electricity (doing something for the planet … go me!)

Anyway, this is it for me and Rise of the Wizards. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, putting it on your favourites list, and most importantly (to those who have been with it from the beginning) sticking with it for all these years. You guys have been great.

I do have some other ideas … let's see what happens to them!

Until then!

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