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Chapter Text

On November 1st, 2001, wizards and witches all across Britain and even Europe were celebrating the fall of the Dark Lord Voldemort the previous night. Most of the credit for this was falling on the shoulders of Harry Potter, toddler extraordinare. The logical incongruity of a year old baby defeating a full fledged Dark Lord was ignored in the wave of relief at the unexpected turn of good fortune.

Albus Dumbledore was one of the few who were not celebrating. He strongly suspected that Voldemort was not truly dead and he knew the prophecy. Harry Potter had to be kept safe from the retaliation of his former student's supporters. He also knew that Killing Curses did not get reflected on fits of whimsy. Indeed, they were not supposed to get reflected at all.

The magical backlash of what happened had wiped away all traces of evidence that could be used to determine the truth of events, but he strongly suspected the machinations of Harry's parents to be the cause. Or at the very least, the machinations of Lily Potter. Alas, he would likely never know for certain what kind of protection had been invoked.

What he did know however, was that the protection still lingered in young Harry Potter's blood. That could be used to keep the boy safe until it was time for him to come to Hogwarts. He would still need to consider the implications of the shard of Voldemort's soul that was lodged in the lightning bolt scar, but he fortunately had time to do that instead of needing to make rash decisions.

Though it pained him to do it, he drained Lily Potter's still cooling body of blood and used it to establish a powerful blood ward around the residence of Petunia Dursley, forging a bond between Lily's squib sister and young Harry that would anchor the ward without need for a heart stone or ley line.

He obliviated this knowledge from the minds of the Dursleys, rightfully assuming that they would not be happy about his actions.

Then he left the newly orphaned baby on their doorstep with a note and left, certain that Harry Potter would be well cared for and safe until it was time for him to rejoin the Wizarding World.

It should be noted that Dumbledore had aquired several cognitive deficiences over the course of his long life. The two that were relevant in this situation was his certainty that he always knew best and his unwillingness to understand that people could have any other feelings aside from love for their family.

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Vernon and Petunia Dursley were none too pleased at the disruptive addition to their comfortable normalcy. They knew Harry was a wizard and loathed what he represented, which easily transferred to the boy himself. Dudley, being an impressionable child, picked up on this and emulated it.

To be fair, there had been a chance for things to go better. After all, Harry was only a small child and any person who was not completely soulless would have their heart softened in the presence of an innocent baby. Perhaps he would not have been treated quite as well as Dudley and would always know that he had been an unwelcome addition to the family, but he would have been raised with more kindness than many received.

But Harry was a magical child and things happened when he got upset. Small children got upset often and that was without the added trauma of seeing their mother murdered right in front of them, even if he was too young to understand what had happened or to truly remember it.

With every occurence of something levitating to his hands because he wanted it or food being banished because he didn't want it, the fragile tolerance of the Dursleys diminished. This led to harsher treatment that in turn led to more distress for Harry and to ever more instances of accidental magic in a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle.

It came to a head one day when Harry was six. Dudley was picking on him as he often did and Harry was both frightened and angry. In a fit of prepubescent rage, he wanted Dudley to be hurt just like he was being hurt. The already obese boy was launched across the room, breaking one of Petunia's favorite lamps and cutting Dudely up bad enough that he would need stitches, as well as leaving him badly bruised.

That proved to be the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. The very next day, Vernon took a day off from work and drove Harry to an orphanage in London. He didn't even bother speaking to the people in charge, merely ordering him out of the car and telling him to knock on the door, accompanied by harsh warnings to never reveal who he'd been living with until then.

Harry had been honestly terrified at the purple faced rage on Vernon's face, so he obeyed.

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Harry had been tentatively hopeful about his new lot in life at first. Yes, it was an orphanage and he'd been told some horror stories about it, but at least the people here wouldn't hate him the way he could remember the Dursleys doing for his whole life. They wouldn't hit him for any infraction, perceived or imagined, or deny him food out of some vain hope to get rid of his 'freakishness'. Hopefully.

That hope didn't last more than a couple of days.

Young children were incredibly selfish creatures, not possessing much empathy and prone to thoughtless cruelty for the most inane of reasons. A strangely shaped scar on one's forehead was more than enough reason to turn just another orphan into a target.

Despite his previous experiences and his desire to not worsen the situation for himself, the outbursts of accidental magic resumed. Unfortunately, the age of six was not characterized by robust emotional strength, so this was more or less inevitable. It didn't take long until the matron of the orphanage learned of these supernatural events.

The woman was old and very strict. She had to be to manage several dozen children at her age. More importantly, she was very religious and quickly classified Harry's bursts of accidental magic as witchcraft. Correct though she was, it did not make Harry's life any easier.

It did give Harry some idea of what these strange occurences were though.

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About a year after Harry's arrival in the orphanage, he ended up being adopted.

A rich couple by the name of Robert and Katherine Shaw came by, looking for a child to adopt. They were instantly taken by Harry's emerald green eyes and raven black hair. The lightning bolt scar did bother them a bit, but not enough to detract from his other features and even that seemed to pass once they learned he'd gotten it in the car crash that killed his parents.

Though excited by the possibility of having a real family, Harry retained enough learned cynicism to be distrustful of his sudden good fortune.

It quickly became obvious to him that the Shaws wanted a status symbol rather than a son, which was the entire reason they had been so careful to pick a boy with striking features. Even the scar was something that could be used as a conversational segue into a bit of subtle bragging about how they had taken in an orphan that had lost his parents in such a horrible way.

He ate what he was told to eat, partook in activities they told him to partake in, studied hard in school and with the tutors they hired for him and smiled at people that he was told to smile at, even though he would like nothing better than to go somewhere that he could be alone.

There was little in the way of parental affection involved, but Harry had already lowered his expectations in life considerably by that point. He ate well, was not hit or berated for things he had no control over and there were no other children around to pick on him. It was the best he'd ever had it and didn't want to go back. The matron at the orphanage had made no mention of his magic to the Shaws and Harry had no intention of doing so either. Others knowing about it had always brought him trouble.

In his free time he researched mythology, read fantasy books, or played role playing games on his computer.

And when he was alone, he practiced his magic.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

To: Harry Potter

Harry's bedroom

74 Cromwell Road

Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, London.

Albus Dumbledore stared uncomprehendingly at the adress on Harry Potter's Hogwarts acceptance letter. That was not anywhere close to Privet Drive in Surrey. What in the world was the Boy-Who-Lived doing in one of the most affluent areas of muggle Londom and how had he gotten there?

If he hadn't taken a peek at the automatically written letter out of curiousity, he wouldn't have even known it. This was something that bore investigation and then an extended period of pondering on the acquired information. Clearly, simply sending the letter was not an option. A teacher would have to go and make the visit personally, but who to send?

Though he had faith that Severus would not let his grudge towards James Potter affect his conduct towards the man's son, the taciturn Potions Master had long made it clear that he would not have any more interaction with children than was absolutely necessary.

Filius would have no idea how to navigate muggle London and neither would a large part of the remaining staff for that matter. Oh, they would find the house just fine, but they would be too conspicuous.

Hagrid was out of the question for the same reason. Subtlety was not the half giant's forte.

That essentially left himself and Minerva, and the Headmaster could not show such blatant interest in a particular child.

Minerva was not going to be pleased with him and would no doubt once again have some choice words to say about his decision to place Harry with the Dursleys, but she would at least be happy to see the son of her favorite students.

He could find out what sequence of events led to the current situation from her, or failing that by paying a discreet visit to 74 Cromwell Road himself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Is this some kind of joke?" Robert Shaw asked flatly, putting down the Hogwarts letter.

Minerva McgGonnagal ruthlessly kept herself from shifting uncomfortably in the obviously expensive sitting room she was in.

These two rich muggles had regarded her with thinly veiled disapproval that was eerily similar to what a traditionalist pureblood family might give a muggleborn ever since she had shown up on their doorstep. Well, that was not entirely true. It was not as intense, nor as obviously discourteus, but it was clear that they didn't like her.

She wasn't normally the type to be made uncomfortable by having snobbish behavior aimed at her, or to tolerate it for that matter, but this was a special case.

These were apparently Harry Potter's foster parents and it made her skin crawl to think of the beautiful baby she remembered growing up to be a self-entitled brat like she suspected the Malfoy scion was going to be.

Though the lad himself seemed more curious than judgemental. His hair was cut fairly short, openly displaying his scar and a lot more tame than that of his father. He didn't seem to have inherited James' poor eyesight either, but his face was very similar. His eyes shone a bright green just like his mother's.

"I assure you, it is no joke." She replied stiffly. "Mr. Potter has been enrolled in Hogwarts by his parents before their deaths and has a place waiting for him."

The Shaws still looked sceptical.

"Would a demonstration convince you?" She asked, getting tentative nods in return.

Thinking it better to do something more minor than tranfiguring a piece of furniture into an animal, she took out her wand and levitated an empty tea cup.

The Shaw's stared in shock at the levitating bit of procelain.

"I see." Mr. Shaw said weakly. His wife merely looked stunned.

"Did my parents really die in a car crash?" Harry inquired politely.

"A car crash?!" Minerva spluttered. "Of all the...they most certainly did not!"

"How did they die then?"

Minerva held back a grimace. She'd been so outraged at the notion of a powerful pair of magicals like James and Lily dying in something as mundane as a muggle car crash that she hadn't even considered that she would now need to explain to him that they had been murdered by a Dark Lord.

And so the whole sordid tale came out. Minerva could clearly see that the Shaw's were discomfited by it, but Harry offered little reaction aside from occasionally asking a question. In turn, Minerva learned how Harry had come into the care of his foster parents. Hearing that she'd been even more right about the Dursleys than she'd known when she'd warned Dumbledore against placing him there nearly had her going into a proper Scottish rage, but the fact that he was away from them now calmed her down somewhat.

She would still be having some very strong words with Albus on the subject however.

Despite learning about magic, the Shaws were far from sold on the idea of letting Harry go to Hogwarts even though his tuition had already been paid for. They seemed quite set on the idea of sending him off to a muggle university instead of having him learn magic, despite Minerva's best efforts to convince them otherwise.

It was only upon her reluctant admittance that they would have their memories of this conversation removed if Harry did not go that they subsided. That was not a part of Wizarding culture that Minerva was proud of, but they couldn't just let any muggles who refused their child's Hogwarts invitation know about magic.

She was even less proud of the fact that she knew that the Boy-Who-Lived would never be allowed the choice to stay away from the magical world. He was simply too high profile and there was no doubt in her mind that the Minister of Magic would use some kind of legal loophole to have him removed from the care of the Shaws if he did not come willingly. The consequences of that decision did not bear thinking about.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"The Dursleys abandoned him in an orphanage?" Dumbledore asked in disbelief.

"I told you they were the worst kind of muggles!" Minerva spat. "I told you that it was a mistake to leave him there."

Dumbledore sighed regretfully. Truly, there had been little choice in the matter. Harry had been safest there, and he had to be kept away from the Wizarding World. Both of those were paramount. He could only hope that he would not have another Tom Riddle on his hands.

"At least it all turned out well." He said. "What is he like?"

"Polite and well mannered." She answered, a small frown still on her face. "He was interested in learning magic, though his foster parents were clearly not so taken with it. I have already told him that I would be returning in a few days to escort him on his first trip to Diagon Alley."

"I could have Hagrid escort young Harry, I know that you are busy." Dumbledore offered.

"Absolutely not!" McGonagall near snapped. "Good man though he is, Hagrid is in no way a suitable choice for introducing someone to magic and Mr. Potter is for all intents and purposes a muggleborn."

Dumbledore suppressed a frown. He had some tests planned for Harry and there was certain information that the boy needed to come across in order for that to work. But no matter, he could work around his deputy easily enough. He would just need to carefully time when to send Hagrid to pick up the Philosopher's Stone.

"Very well, if you feel you can fit another trip to Diagon Alley into your schedule, then by all means."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"This is the entrance to Diagon Alley?"

Minerva smiled slightly at the confused tone in Harry's voice. She supposed that the Leaky Cauldron really did look a bit dingy compared to the surrounding buildings.

"Indeed Mr. Potter." She confirmed. "Remember that you are quite famous in the Wizarding World. I would suggest that you put that cap of yours on."

Harry grimaced a bit but put the generic cap on his head. It would do a good enough job of hiding his scar to prevent a scene from happening. He was a bit dubious about this supposed fame of his, but wasn't willing to chance it in case the stern professor wasn't exaggerating.

They passed through the Leaky Cauldron without incident and were soon in Diagon Alley proper.

If not for the robes everyone was wearing, Harry would have though they'd stepped back in time. The Alley itself featured a cobblestone road that was far too narrow to be modern and a variety of similarly smallish buildings selling all manner of strange things.

"Come along Mr. Potter, our first stop is Gringotts, the wizard's bank." McGonagall said quietly, not wanting to give away his identity.

"What are those?" He asked with surprise as he saw a pair of obviously non-human guards.

"Goblins." She answered shortly. "A clever folk, and good with money. They are not the most pleasant sort, nor fond of wizards, but treat them respectfully and you should be fine."

Harry nearly stopped to stare at her incredulously. Goblin bankers? That was quite the departure from the fantasy stereotype of stupid, smelly creature that were typically used as cannon fodder. They were probably even more vicious though. Even human bankers were generally more vicious than a fantasy goblin; a fantasy goblin would just kill you, but a banker would take everything you own and make you kill yourself. That was what he'd gathered from the occasional grumbling of his foster father at any rate.

"Professor McGonagall!" A booming, jovial voice called out. "Fancy meetin' you here."

"Hagrid." Minerva greeted, giving the half-giant a small smile. "Are you heading to Gringotts as well?"

"Aye, Dumbledore's got me pickin' up the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Hagrid said with a sense of pride before looking at Harry. "Is this...?"

McGonagall wanted to palm her face at the casual way that the big man was blurting out secrets in the middle of the street. Why the Headmaster trusted him to do something as important as picking up the Philosopher's Stone she had no idea. Hagrid would certainly do the job, but he was liable to inform everyone he came across what he was doing without even realizing it.

"Yes Hagrid, it is." McGonagall said sternly, willing him to pick up on her desire to keep quiet.

Alas, the effort was wasted on the half-giant.

"I haven't seen yeh since you were a wee baby." Hagrid said emotionally. "When I picked yeh up from-"

"Hagrid!" The transfiguration professor hissed, seeing that merely hinting wasn't going to cut it if they wanted to avoid having him inadvertently inform the whole street of Harry's identity.

"Wha-oh!" Hagrid's eyes widened, finally realizing the need for some subtlety. "Err, right. Name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Look forward to seein' you there come September first."

"Pleasure meeting you." Harry said politely, wondering how exactly this huge man had known him as a baby.

The three of them went into the bank together, with Hagrid quickly splitting off on his own to finish the errand he'd been sent to do.

"What's the You-Know-What?" Harry asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Never you mind." McGonagall said quickly.

Harry simply nodded. Obviously, they weren't going to tell an eleven year old if they were being so cryptic in the first place. It almost felt like the start of a side-quest, but that was ridiculous and probably a result of one too many RPGs being played. Real life didn't have quest cues for player characters.

Teacher and prospective student stepped up to one of the numerous goblin tellers.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter here needs to make a withdrawal from his trust vault." McGonagall said, already presenting a golden key.

"Excuse me, trust vault?" Harry interjected, latching on to the words. "Does that mean that there is also a main vault."

"Of course, but you will not have access to it until you are of age." The goblin teller replied, his tone implying that Harry was annoying him.

Harry was much too excited by the idea to care about that though, and merely pressed on with his line of questioning. "Would it be possible to discuss my account with whoever is managing it?"

"There really is no need for this, Mr. Potter." MyGonnagal tried to dissuade him. "Your trust vault will be more than sufficient for your school supplies, likely for all seven years of them."

He would not be put off though. This inheritance represented financial independence and therefore freedom from Robert and Katherine Shaw. Life with them was not terrible, but if given the choice to get away from them and live on his own, he would barely even bother saying goodbye. He had a closer relationship with the cleaning lady that came by once a week.

You would think that they would start to feel some affection for each other over the past few years, but that was just not happening. The Shaws were ambitious social climbers that were only married as a business arrangement that benefited them both. Expecting them to suddenly develop parental feelings was futile and kept their interactions decidedly cool. Cordial, but cool. Even the LASIK eye surgery they had insisted he get had been motivated more by their ambitions than any concern about his vision, the fact that they had handwaved any possible risk had demonstrated that quite clearly. What they had was a relationship of mutual exploitation and nothing more. He played the part of the adopted son with the tragic backstory that did the best he could. In exchange he lived in comfort and was left alone to do his own thing when they didn't need him for something.

So no, there was simply no way in Hell that he was missing out on an opportunity to find out as much as possible about whatever inheritance his real parents had left him.

"I'm the only Potter left, aren't I?" He challenged. "It's only right that I take an interest in the family finances."

McGonagall pursed her lips, obviously disapproving. Either because she thought it was unnecessary or because she thought that an eleven year old had no business trying to manage a wealthy family estate, Harry couldn't say.

There was a hint of approval in the goblin's reply though. "Wait here, I will inquire if the account manager for the Potters has time to meet with you."

"Thank you." Harry said sincerely, getting an inscrutably gruesome smile in return.

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As luck would have it, the Potter account manager did have time. He was an older goblin by the name of Gorefist, the implications of which had Harry wondering if banking was their day job and slaughtering peasants just a hobby. He really, really wanted to ask, but figured it would be a bad idea to possibly offend the person in charge of his money.

"I must admit that I am surprised that you would want to speak to me already, Mr. Potter." Gorefist began. "After all, you cannot touch any of the Potter finances aside from those in your trust vault until you are of age, something that I am certain you were informed of by the teller."

Harry heard the implicit 'Why are you wasting my time?'.

"I don't suppose there is any way to...accelerate...my coming of age?" He inquired.

Gorefist looked at him as if he was an idiot.

"Mr. Potter, we are a bank, not a government office. You could of course ask to go through the goblin trials of adulthood, if you wished to do so. That we could offer you."

Something about Gorefist's words and expression made Harry doubt the wisdom of this.

"I get the feeling that these trials were not designed with humans in mind and would likely be hazardous to my health, so I'm afraid that I'll have to decline."

Gorefist barked an amused laugh. "Hah, you are surprisingly sensible for a wizard. Did you have any other clever ideas for prematurely getting your hands on your inheritance, or are you quite finished wasting both our time?"

"I would like an accounting of the Potter family assets." Harry insisted.

"Very well." Gorefist grumbled, taking some documents out of his desk. "The Potter family liquid assets amount to 343,709 galleons and an exta one thousand on your trust vault. The main vault also holds assorted heirlooms and artefacts acquired over the years."

"Is there an inventory of these items?" Harry interjected eagerly, his mind on all the cool enchanted gear that might be in there.

"No. Gringotts merely stores the items, we do not care what they are."

"I see." Harry said, disappointed.

Gorefist paid him no mind as he continued to speak. "Of the land holdings, Potter Manor is all that remains. It has lain empty since the deaths of your paternal grandparents."

Harry was happy to learn that he had a whole manor to himself. He knew that he wouldn't be able to move into it alone, but it was good to have a place. Something was bothering him about all this though. All that money couldn't exist in a vacuum, there had to be some sort of business involved.

"Does the Potter family own any kind of business venture?" He inquired.

"Not anymore." Gorefist said bluntly. "As the name implies, your family used to produce various pottery, both artistic and practical. They also owned a reasonably sized vineyard."

"What happened to to them? Did they go bankrupt?" Harry asked.

"Not as such." Gorefist grunted. "The Parkinson family made overtures to buy both after the death of Charlus Potter, to which the managers at the time agreed. With your father in hiding, he was unaware of this and could not contest it."

"I see." Harry said again, frowning. He would have to find out about these Parkinsons.

"I can do whatever I want with my trust vault, is that right?"

"It is."

"Is the gold in my trust vault a fixed amount or does it get periodically replenished?"

"The latter. It is filled up to one thousand galleons on every birthday until you become of age."

"Then I would like to move the contents of my trust vault to a new one, and to have this repeated every year."

Gorefist raised an eyebrow. While it was not exactly the height of cunning to figure out this type of scheme(pureblood heirs thought of it all the time), it did show that the boy had some definite plans for that money.

"There is a substantial fee attached to such services." He said with a cutthroat smile.

"What kind of fee?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"20%."

Harry gaped at the goblin for a moment before he regained the power of speech. "That's as good as robbery!"

"You could also wait until you are of age." Gorefist offered, smirking at the glower that the boy wizard was aiming at him. He would have been willing to go lower, but he was pretty sure that the young Potter heir was desperate enough for the money to agree even to that exorbitant fee and Gringott's didn't do charity. Especially not for wizards.

There was a long silence before Harry gave his answer.

"I hope you enjoy the gold you extorted from an eleven year old child." He said, his words clipped and angry.

"That is the best kind of gold." Gorefist replied, feeling quite pleased with himself. Fleecing the idiot wizards was a favorite pastime of the goblins. Not as good as killing them, but it was a decent enough substitute.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

McGonagall's mood was noticeably more sour when Harry came out of Gringott's. He got the feeling that she was a woman that was used to getting her way with children and didn't appreciate being kept waiting. Harry decided that he didn't like her too much. His upbringing had left him with a distaste for bossy, authoritative people that were used to getting their way.

Not to mention that his own mood was not exactly sunshine and daisies after the meeting with Gorefist.

The first stop after that was Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Despite McGonagall's warning about the effects of people seeing his scar, Madam Malkin stayed professional. It gave him hope that it wasn't as bad as she'd claimed.

He came out of the robe shop feeling decidedly ridiculous, but he did blend in better now.

The trunk shop and apothecary were next, both of which passed without incident. It was in the book shop that he once again tried the patience of the transfiguration mistress.

"Ancient Runes and Arithmancy are electives that you can choose to take in third year, you will not need those books before then." She was saying.

"I'm buying them now." Harry insisted.

Ancient Runes sounded fascinating and he wanted to know what it was about. As for Arithmancy...he'd simply never thought that math could be applied to magic.

He wasn't a mathematical genius by any stretch, having slogged through the material his school and tutors assigned him with the grim determination of someone who had no choice. He had gotten good grades, but math was simply not something that had ever interested him.

Math as it applied to magic though? That was interesting and something that he would cheerfully dive into.

McGonagall released an impatient sigh and muttered something indistinct about raven claws. He had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but her attitude baffled him. Weren't teachers supposed to be happy when students wanted to read ahead?

The book shop was also the place where he had his first encounter with his fame, though it was not because someone had recognized him.

There were books, a whole series of books, about his supposed adventures after the defeat of Voldemort. Obviously, these adventures were entirely made up. He couldn't possibly have been riding a dragon at the age of five for example.

Harry could only stare in disbelief at the assortment of books. At the age of eleven, his knowledge of the law was not exactly extensive, but he was pretty sure that using him as a main character in a book series without his permission was illegal.

The knowledge that the vast majority of his inheritance would remain out of reach for quite a few more years still fresh in his mind, Harry got an idea about squeezing some extra money out of this situation. He promptly added a book on wizarding law to his purchase, as well as those books about him. For all he knew, it wasn't illegal in the Wizarding World to pull a stunt like this, but he would definitely find out.

Though annoyed by the liberties taken by the author, if her stupidity gave him an easy path to independent wealth, he would thank her. In the privacy of his own thoughts. After he sued her out of house and home.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Though he had long wanted a pet, Harry did not find any animals in Magical Menagerie that appealed to him. Maybe some other day.

The last stop of the day was the wand shop, Ollivander's. He couldn't quite point his finger at it, but there was a kind of unidentifiable tingle in the air.

"Good afternoon." The soft greeting came from behind, causing Harry to give a start.

"Hello." Harry returned the greeting with akward caution. There was something about the man and his silvery eyes that was decidedly off-putting.

"Ah, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon Harry Potter." The man continued, heedless of the discomfort.

"Must you frighten every child I bring here for a wand, Garrick?" McGonagall asked with exasperation.

"Minerva, Minerva McGonagall. Fir with dragon heartstring, nine and a half exceptional wand for transfiguration." Ollivander rattled off.

"Yes Garrick, I know. You tell me that every time I come here."

Harry had to suppress a smile at the weary note in the transfiguration teacher's voice. The old wandmaker apparently enjoyed reciting that information often.

"Well then Mr. Potter, let us find your wand." Ollivander said, handing him a wand. "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Give it a wave."

Harry took the wand, feeling his skin tingle where it came into contact with the wood. He gave it a wave as instructed, feeling a little foolish.

A weak stream of multi-colored sparks streamed from the end of the wand.

"A match on the first try?" McGonagall asked in surprise.

"No, I don't think so." Ollivander said as he snatched the wand away, his eyes suddenly calculating. "Try this one Mr. Potter. Maple and phoenix feather..."

Harry tried it, getting a similar result. Ollivander looked as if he was suspicious of something and Harry had the bad feeling that it was about his attempts to cast magic wandlessly. Fortunately, the old man didn't comment.

More wands came and went, producing varying results. Eventually they came to a holly wand with phoenix feather that had a much stronger reaction than any of the others so far. He felt something powerful connect to his magic and pull on it, the wand releasing a great stream of sparks with every movement until it settled down.

"Curious, very curious." Ollivander muttered.

"What is?" Harry asked.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr . Potter." The wandmaker said heavily. "Every single one, and I can tell you that the phoenix who donated the feather for that wand gave only one other. That other feather rests in the wand that gave you that scar on your head. It is very curious that you should be chosen by the brother wand to that of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Harry tried really hard not to think it, but it was useless. That sounded undeniably like an important part of the plot for a main questline. Good thing that the Dark Lord was dead, or he would probably end up in some kind of predestined mission to defeat him.

Or maybe he'd played too many RPGs.

"I think we must expect great things from you Mr. Potter." Ollivander was still saying. "After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things, terrible yes, but great."

Somewhat unnerved by the creepy old man, Harry was still getting that 'main questline' vibe.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry sighed in relief as he sank into the seats of the Hogwarts Express.

Getting away from the Shaws for ten months of the year for the next seven years sounded almost perfect. Almost, because he'd gathered that magicals were technologically retarded and Harry had grown rather fond of his computer and all that it provided. Living in a modern day replica of the seventeenth century was going to be a pain.

Parchment and quills indeed! He'd bought notebooks and ballpoint pens in bulk as soon the shopping trip with McGonagall was over. There was tradition and then there was being stupid.

Speaking of McGonagall, Harry wondered if she even realized that she'd been wearing a man's business suit from the fifties and a travel bag instead of a purse on her first visit. She had made quite the impression on the status obsessed Shaws by showing up dressed like some kind of hipster. A bad impression that was.

Probably not, if the robes were anything to go by. Harry would admit to having the occasional daydream of being a fantasy wizard like in one of his games or books, flinging about bolts of fire and lightning while they billowed around him, but the reality of wearing a robe made him feel kind of silly.

And speaking of silly...

Harry took out his wand. Holly with phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. Whatever that meant.

He was frankly a bit puzzled by the concept of wands. Certainly, his magic unquestionably came easier with the wand in hand, but if what he'd seen so far was anything to go by, then the wizards seemed to think that magic was as good as impossible without it.

That made no sense. The magic had to be in the witch or wizard, or else a wand would enable even non-magicals to cast spells. With this in mind, Harry concluded that wands were just magical foci, designed to make the use of magic easier. That would make sense. The crippling reliance on wands did not make sense.

Harry had already determined that he would master his magic without the need of a wand. Much of this determination was based in his desire to not wave a silly looking stick about while casting spells. That was not cool at all.

Despite his accelerated emotional maturity due to the circumstances of his life, he was still eleven.

A more practical reason for his determination came when McGonagall told him not to cast any spells at home, as the Ministry of Magic forbade it and could track it.

They had clearly not managed to track any of the numerous instances of magic he'd performed wandlessly in the past few years, which meant that they could track wand use rather than magic itself.

True, his accomplishments had been small. Pushing and pulling things and similar stuff. He'd tried to throw a fireball once and gotten a little lick of flame. Then he'd realized that setting the house on fire would not be conducive to his continued magical studies, or his continued life for that matter. Fireballs and lightning had been grudgingly put on hold until a non-flammable environment could be found.

Anyway, the point was that McGonagall had told him that the Ministry could detect any magic use, which they obviously couldn't.

Harry had read a lot of fantasy books and played a lot of games in his search for inspiration on figuring out the workings of his magic. These books and games often featured the theme of a corrupt government. It didn't take him long to develop a dislike of the Ministry of Magic with just that one piece of information. The numerous instances of restricted magic that the law book he'd bought mentioned further solidified his opinion.

First learning that he was a wizard, only to learn that the Ministry of Magic restricted so many interesting fields had planted in him a mulish determination to study exactly those. Besides, according to the Ministry definition, he had broken the Statute of Secrecy years ago in the orphanage and was constantly breaking the Decree about the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery. It wasn't like breaking any more of their silly laws was going to make a difference.

"Excuse me, do you mind? Everywhere else is full."

The question broke Harry out of his thoughts. The questioner was a gangly redheaded boy looking nervously into the cabin.

Harry did not actually want company, but he also wasn't willing to make an issue of it, so he simply nodded.

"You're Harry Potter!"

The awed exclamation instantly killed any desire to speak to the other boy. He'd skimmed over those Harry Potter fiction books and rapidly grew to hate them. Every single one of those books had him performing ridiculous feats at impossibly young ages, usually ending with him riding off into the sunset with the pretty pureblood princess in his arms. The books were oddly well written considering what a load of garbage the actual subject matter was, but that wasn't the point. The point was that McGonagall had been understating his fame instead of exaggerating it like he'd originally thought.

"Yes, so what?" Harry grumbled, already regretting that he hadn't told the other boy to get lost instead of being polite.

"Wicked." The readhead continued, apparently oblivious to the hostility. "So that's where You-Know-Who's curse hit."

"Yes, that's where he hit me after mudering my parents." Harry grumbled even more irritably. He wasn't nearly as broken up about the deaths of his parents as he'd implied with that snarky statement – he'd never known them after all – but mentioning murdered parents was a surefire way of stopping conversation. He'd used it a few times before, though at the time he'd thought they had died in a car crash.

The redhead finally got the hint and started looking guilty, mumbling out a barely audible 'sorry'.

"I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley." He tried.

"How nice for you." Harry refused to cooperate with the attempt to establish a more positive atmosphere. Instead, he moved a seat over to make things even more chilly as well as get some more leg room, took out his half-read Lord of the Rings book and started reading. If the annoying redhead got uncomfortable enough to leave, that would be great, but his silence would do in a pinch.

There was blessed silence for a long time, interrupted only by the occasional bored sigh from Ron. Harry made steady progress through the book in peace. He knew that he wouldn't see many descriptions of useful magic in this particular book, but he was determined to read it anyway. He'd skimmed over his textbooks at home already and a train ride was no place to be reading something that dry.

The trolley lady came and went, neither boy having bought anything from her due to having lunches packed, though Ron sounded like he wanted to buy something but couldn't get it for one reason or another. Harry simply never had sweets and wasn't interested in them now. Katherine Shaw had gotten a little obssessive about healthy eating a few years back and imposed a low fat, low sugar diet on both her husband and adopted son. At least she had done her research and put together an actual healthy diet instead of some anorexic abomination.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost his." A girl's voice intruded on his reading.

"No toads here." Harry answered her without looking.

There was a small gasp and his jaw clenched in expectation of the annoying words.

"You're Harry Potter! I've read all about you in Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, and Great Wizards and Witches of the 20th Century! " She babbled.

"That's great, but weren't you looking for a toad?" Harry quickly interjected before she could waste the breath she'd just taken.

"Yes, of course." She said, actually sounding a bit offended. That was rich. "I'm Hermione Granger by the way. You boys should probably change into your robes, we'll be at Hogwarts soon."

Harry muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath about bossy females. He had enough of bossy people with the Shaws, he had no desire to get to know a pint sized harpy in addition to the full grown one that was his foster mother.

"Mental, that one." Ron commented wryly.

Harry didn't respond. He didn't want the ginger annoyance to think he might actually have a chance of making friends with him.

The annoyingly bossy girl did have a point though, they would be at Hogwarts relatively soon.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"I heard that Harry Potter was on this train. Is that you then?"

Harry barely kept an unimpressive preteen glower off his face as the flaw in his plan to keep to himself and study magic was once again proven to be flawed. How was he supposed to shun human contact if everyone and their dog wanted to come talk to him?

"What of it?" He growled as deeply as possible. Which was to say not very, given that he was eleven.

The rather poncy looking blond boy with the slicked back hair and dull looking sidekicks was a bit taken aback by the instant hostility, but he rallied quickly.

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He said, making it sound as if this was important information.

Ron snorted, apparently finding the blond funny.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco asked waspishly, sneering at the redhead. "No need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand me down robe, you must be a Weasley."

The arrogant blond boy turned back to Harry, extending his hand. "You'll find that some families are better than others, Potter. I can help you with that."

"You can help me by going away!" Harry snapped, his patience for human contact exhausted by the string of irritating people. He couldn't tell people to bugger off at home because his continued comfortable lifestyle hinged on the tolerance of the Shaws, but by thunder he was not going to play nice and socialize in the Wizarding World. "I don't want anything to do with either of you or your families."

"You'll regret this, Potter!" Draco snarled and stomped off, looking extremely petulant thanks to his age.

"That was wicked!" Ron said a few seconds later.

Harry started wondering if the redhead had a hearing defect or had perhaps suffered a head injury sometime in the past. Nobody normal could be this dense.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry somehow managed to make it all the way to the sorting without any more 'You're Harry Potter!' moments, thankfully.

He followed the instructions massive groundskeepr and got into a boat with two unknown girls and a boy. He didn't even bother to notice anything other than one girl's red hair before he faced away from them and determinedly stared at the dark waters of the lake.

The magnificent first sight of Hogwarts did manage to lift his sour mood a bit and the scare with the ghosts had been an interesting experience.

And now he had a ratty old hat on his head that was apparently sentient and would place him into one of the four houses.

Hmmm, interesting. The voice of the hat murmured through his mind, startling him a bit. You have courage, but it's a more cautious sort. Not particularly suited for Gryffindor.

Harry didn't really have an opinion on that, but if a magical talking hat said Gryffindor wasn't for him then that was as good a reasoning for not going there as any. Besides, given on what he'd observed of this sorting so far, he had the horrible suspicion that Weasley would be going to Gryffindor. Intelligence didn't seem to be a requirement for that house and bravery could easily be substituted for by stupidity.

You have ambition, as well as cunning. You could do well in Slytherin.

Harry's face twisted in distaste. Malfoy had gone to Slytherin and he had no desire to interact with the blond idiot.

He knew what the hat was talking about in terms of ambition, it was a long standing one. He wanted to be powerful. He'd wanted it when he was being shouted at and hit at the Dursleys. He'd wanted it when he'd been bullied at the orphanage. Learning that he had magic had provided hope and the adoption by the Shaws had provided opportunity. Hogwarts would provide the means.

Power was freedom and one day he would be free. He would be free of the need to pander to the wishes of Robert and Katherine Shaw. He would be free of the stupid restrictions on learning magic that the Ministry imposed. He would even be free of the need to use a wand.

And once he was free, he wanted to see the world and go on adventures where he could use his magic openly. A silly, childish ambition perhaps, but it was his. For a boy who had always needed to dance to someone else's tune and hide his abilities for fear of the consequences, the thought of being able to wander the world and do whatever he pleased had always been a pleasant escape for reality. It was one of the reasons that he liked RPGs so much.

In the meanwhile, there was no need to put up with entitled little shits like Malfoy when there were other options.

Not Slytherin then. The hat concluded, feeling his displeasure at the idea. You don't have any loyalty for anyone but yourself, but then you've never had anyone to be loyal to. Not afraid of hard work either. Hufflepuff would be good for you, you could make friends there.

Harry scowled at the idea. He wasn't interested in friends, at least not enough to seek them out. He'd tried to be friends with Dudley and the other children at the orphanage and had gotten only bruises for it, and the less said about the 'friends' the Shaws had told him to make the better. No, what he wanted now was for people to leave him alone. He could always change his mind later, but right now he would much rather see people keep their distance. Besides, it was looking as if the people of the Wizarding World were more interested in befriending his scar than him.

The hat seemed to sigh. I see that holds no appeal for you, very well then. You've got a good mind and want to learn, so by process of elimination it better be..."RAVENCLAW!"

He took the hat off his head and walked over to the table of blue and bronze, trying to ignore the excessively loud cheering. Though he had to admit that the overdone hysterics about about how they didn't get Potter by a pair of redheaded twins at the Gryffindor table were amusing.

The others around him went to introduce themselves with far too much interest to pass as casual, but were fortunately not nearly as annoying as either Weasley or Malfoy had been.

The last few sortings passed without incident and Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Weird. Harry thought to himself, examining the food that had suddenly appeared.

A lot of it seemed to be several varieties of meat drowned in vast amounts of grease, typically British in other words. He was quite sure that he would get sick if he tried to eat any of it. He'd never eaten anything that heavy before.

From what he could recall, Vernon Dursley had taken great pleasure in loudly masticating this kind of food while only allowing him some bread, fruit and vegetables. The orphanage could never have afforded this and Katherine Shaw had gone on her health craze at about the time of his adoption.

Harry stuck to the vegetables, potatoes and what little meat there was that wasn't liable to make him puke. The ostentatious goblets were filled with some kind of orange liquid. A tentative sip sent a shudder of revulsion through his stomach.

What kind of crazy idiot thought that mixing pumpkin juice and what felt like a truck load of sugar was a good idea? Pumpkins weren't a friggin fruit! He made a note to bring his own water to these things, not seeing any present on the table.

He spent the rest of the feast shutting down attempts to draw him into a conversation and wondering if magic somehow prevented people from getting fat. It was the only explanation he could think of for the lack of obesity if wizards ate like this all the time.

The feast eventually ended and Dumbledore stood up to speak.

"Ahem, just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

That sounded reasonable enough to Harry. Even regular forests aren't exactly something you should be wandering in willy-nilly. If the Forbidden Forest stayed true to form for the Wizarding World, it was probably filled with mutant spiders or something.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

That was a rule that Harry already knew he would be breaking. He had fire and lightning evocation to attempt and Hogwarts was non-flammable as well as non-conductive.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Harry knew only the bare bones of the sport. He knew it was played on flying brooms and that the team composition made no sense. The seeker pretty much invalidated everyone else unless the game was very long and one sided.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

And that sounded like yet another start of a quest for a Dungeons & Dragons based game.

"But before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry collapsed on his very comfortable bed, face down, and exhaled into his pillow with deep exasperation. His ears still felt like they were going to bleed from hearing the 'school song'. Good music was clearly another thing that he would have to rely on the non-magical world for if that kind of audio torture was considered acceptable here.

He was honestly having mixed feelings about the magical world so far.

On the side of the pros was getting him away from the obsessive socializing of the Shaws, the magic, his own money and that sort of thing.

On the other hand, the Wizarding world was practically in the stone age as far as technology went and he was famous here, which was attracting ass kissers. He'd been on both sides of the ass kissing equation a lot thanks to the Shaws and could tell when someone wanted to talk to him for something other than actually getting to know him. Thus far, McGonagall had been the only one who knew his name that had actually talked to him rather than at him and he didn't like her much.

Well, the mental debate was moot either way apparently. He had to be here for at least a while or they might decide to wipe his memories of magic, which was unacceptable.

At least Ravenclaws apparently got single rooms. Having to share a room with someone would have sucked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The school year got going in much the same way as a non-magical one would, though with stranger subjects.

Herbology wasn't something that Harry could claim any real interest in, nor was Astronomy and its hilariously outdated telescopes. History of Magic was quicky designated as either a free period or a time to do something else. The ghostly teacher was literally quoting the book verbatim, making the class entirely redundant. Not to mention that he seemed obssesively focused on the goblin wars, to the exclusion of all else.

Charms seemed interesting, but they hadn't done anything more than theory so far.

Transfiguration was currently in progress and Harry was staring at the silver needle on his desk comtemplatively. The others were struggling to get even a slight change in their matchstick, while he had managed to do it on the first try.

He had attempted some wandless transfigurations after returning from the shopping trip to Diagon Alley. It had been incredibly hard, but Harry had nothing better to do and he was excited to try out a form of magic he hadn't thought to try before. Wandlessly, he hadn't managed more than a change of color and a slight one at that. With a wand, it had been almost easy.

Was his previous wandless practice accelerating his ability with a wand?

"Well done Mr. Potter!" McGonagall praised, sounding very impressed. "I haven't seen anyone manage their first transfiguration attempt that quickly in a long time. Take ten points for Ravenclaw."

"Thank you professor." Harry replied. It technically wasn't his first transfiguration attempt, or even his hundredth, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

Some distance away, Hermione Granger stared in disbelief and in some amount of anger that the rude boy had gotten it better than her.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ah, yes," Snape said softly when he reached his name during roll call. "Harry Potter. Our new...celebrity."

Harry held back a sigh. Potions was apparently going to be one of those subjects.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Snape continued in something close to a whisper. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

That sounded kind of rehearsed. He probably used it every year. He would probably use it on the Slytherin-Gryffindor class too, if he hadn't already. It was a pretty good speech though.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I have no idea, sir." Harry answered. He didn't even have the first clue about what those were, much less anything else to do with them.

"Tut, tut, clearly fame isn't everything. Let's try again Potter..."

The questions continued and Harry was unable to answer them. Admittedly, he probably should have looked through his potions books, but the lure of learning how to hurl spells of death and destruction from his hands had been quite a bit stronger than learning about stirring a collection of gross ingredients in a cauldron.

The perils of being eleven.

With a final disdainful sneer, Snape spat out the answers to the questions and demanded to know why they weren't writing them down.

"Potter, what are you doing?" Snape demanded less than a minute later.

"Writing down the answers, sir."

"Where is your quill and parchment? And five points from Ravenclaw for your cheek."

"I figured that using paper and a ballpoint pen would be much easier." Harry replied evenly, feeling fairly certain that the hook-nosed professor would not like that. Fortunately, he didn't care about points or the house cup.

"Another five points from Ravenclaw, Potter! Put away that muggle garbage and take out your proper supplies." Snape sneered severely.

"Does it really matter what I write my notes on?" Harry questioned. "I assure you that my writing will be far more legible if I don't have to struggle with an inkpot and quill."

Starting to develop an unattractively angry flush to his pale skin tone, Snape waved his wand and vanished Harry's pen and paper.

"Twenty points from Ravenclaw for your backtalk and a detention if you don't take out your parchment and quill immediately!"

Harry had neither of those, having seen no need to bring them when he had plenty of pens and paper. Unfortunately, he suspected that Snape would not care about that.

He was right.

He spent the rest of the potions class in a foul mood. Perhaps it was time to research some alternatives to attending this class? Snape was clearly determined to pick on him for some reason, so the educational benefits of learning under him were dubious at best.

And the week had been going so well too.

Chapter Text

Hogwarts staff room, November 2nd.

It was the first of several routine meetings between the Hogwarts professors and several things had already been discussed. The troubles of the upper years, the poor quality of the school brooms, the Quidditch cup, the latest shenanigans of the Weasley twins and so forth.

Things were drawing to a close now and all the other professors had already left, leaving just Dumbledore and the four heads of house.

"And what of our first years?" The Headmaster opened, mostly wanting to hear about Harry Potter .

"Among my lions, young Mr. Weasley is proving to be troublesome." McGonnagal said with a frown. "He is continually late in turning in his assignments and they are invariably of poor quality. If this keeps up, I am going to need to write home to his parents."

All of the staff winced, not wanting there to be another reason for Molly Weasley's strident voice to thunder from the inevitable Howler that the woman would send her youngest son upon hearing of his poor academic performance.

"On the other hand, Ms. Granger is proving to be an exceptional student." She went on.

Snape gave a small sneer at the mention of the girl. He found her eagerness to please incredibly annoying, particularly her habit of turning in essays that were nearly twice as long as required. Anyone could regurgitate facts from a book and he didn't appreciate the extra work she was giving him by doing it.

"My badgers have settled in without any issue." Sprout took over the narrative. "But Minerva, I simply must comment on Mr. Longbottom. That boy has an amazing green thumb for Herbology."

"He has an even more amazing explosive thumb for Potions." Snape added condescendingly. "Not a single class goes by without something exploding in his general vicinity."

"What of your snakes, Severus?" Dumbledore interjected before the Herbology professor could launch into a rant against the Potions Master.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." Snape said shortly. Unlike the others, he was not inclined to talk about his Slytherins.

"I see." Dumbledore said the same as he did every year when Severus gave the same curt answer. "What of the Ravenclaws, Filius?"

"The only one that truly stands out is Mr. Potter." Flitwick admitted. He knew perfectly well that he'd been kept for last exactly because he had the Boy-Who-Lived in his house. "Though he does not have Ms. Granger's precision for theory, his practical work is simply extraordinary, even better than that of his mother. So far he has always been the first to master a new spell."

"The same for Transfiguration." McGonnagal added. "Not even his father had this kind of talent for it."

"His talents are apparently restricted to wand waving, as his ability with potions is mediocre at best." Snape sneered.

"Loathe as I am to agree with Severus, he is right." Sprout said, still a bit steamed from the earlier comment against her favorite first year. "He seems entirely disinterested in Herbology."

"There is one other thing." Flitwick said uncomfortably, knowing that what he had to say next would not be well received.

"Yes, Filius?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Mr. Potter has asked me if it would be possible for him to stop attending DADA, History of Magic and Potions and study the subject matter on his own."

There was a moment of shock before Snape ended it.

"So the arrogant brat is already looking for special treatment?" He asked bitingly.

"Severus." Dumbledore said warningly before turning back to the Charms professor. "Did he say why?"

"He did." Flitwick confirmed. "He frankly admitted to me that Quirinus' stutter makes the class too slow for him."

McGonnagal and Sprout sighed, fully understanding the situation. Talking to Quirell was a chore when it took him forever to finish a sentence. Trying to listen to him lecture would be even worse.

Miraculously, Snape kept his opinion to himself.

"History of Magic.....well, you know Binns." Flitwick continued, shrugging in an embarrassed manner. "As for Potions, he has come to me with a complaint about Severus vanishing his supplies and constantly singling him out during class."

"Perhaps I would not have vanished his supplies had he brought proper ones." Snape retorted.

"Yes, Mr. Potter told me of his preferrence for muggle stationery and I won't dispute your right to demand that all students use a quill and parchment in your class, but did it truly warrant you destroying his supplies? And I note that you didn't respond to the accusation of singling him out." Flitwick said back with narrowed eyes.

"Someone has to curb his ego." Snape sneered.

"What ego, Severus?" Flitwick demanded. "The boy spends all his time either in the library, in class or in his room. Occasionally he explores the school, but that's all. He hasn't made any friends yet and seems to have no intention of doing so."

Despite not showing it, Snape was a bit startled by that. Potter not having any friends? He hadn't really looked into it, but now that Flitwick mentioned it, he did recall that the boy didn't engage in much conversation while eating in the Great Hall.

"And yet he thinks that he can drop three classes and do them on his own." He shot back, mostly to cover up his surprise. He had a reputation to uphold.

"It is a moot point either way I'm afraid." Dumbledore interjected. "Though I admire young Harry's desire to learn, if we allowed him to skip certain classes, then everyone would want the same privilege and most of those would not have the same drive to learn that he does."

There was also the fact Dumbledore didn't want the boy to isolate himself any further.

Though Flitwick could appreciate the headmaster's point, he had a feeling that it would just cause Harry to ignore the lecturing of Quirell and Binns and do his own thing. Snape would not be so easily ignored and the diminutive Charms professor could only hope that Severus would apply some restraint. Harry's fame would make the entire situation unpleasant for all involved if things continued to escalate.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After that staff meeting was over, Snape paid closer attention to Potter.

He had been surprised to see the boy go to Ravenclaw instead of Gryffindor, seeing as both his parents had gone to that house. He'd also been expecting him to be running about the school with a gang of like-minded hooligans by now, breaking rules and causing trouble everywhere.

But Flitwick was indeed correct. The boy was quiet, introverted and studious. Nothing at all like his father and only slightly more like his mother. In fact, Snape was reminded rather jarringly of himself as a first year. A himself who didn't have Lily as a friend.

His face still looked too much like that of James Potter and Snape felt the old anger come back every time he saw it, but he decided to lower the verbal abuse to the level he aimed at everyone. He would reserve judgement for the moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Ha!" Harry yelled unnecessarily, thrusting out his hands and focusing all his will into making a mighty fireball blast forth from them.

The most pathetic fireball that the world had ever seen was his result.

Harry slumped, feeling kind of ridiculous to have made such a dramatic buildup, only to produce that little flicker. He wasn't going to be casting any firestorms soon, that was for sure.

He'd long ago figured out that the magic was linked to his emotions. The more powerful the emotion he was feeling, the more powerful the results of his accidental magic had always been. Unfortunately, summoning up emotions on demand was simply not that easy. He'd been practicing with his magic for years and had managed to get some results even when he wasn't feeling incredibly distressed, but it was slow going.

With his wand though......

He took out the holly wand and slashed it through the air, sending a band of fire scything through the air. It wasn't much and would singe some eyebrows at best, but he'd gathered that it was impressive for a firstie that had only been at Hogwarts for a month and a bit.

He'd also noted that he didn't really need all the ridiculous swishing and flicking that everyone else was using. Nor did he really need to say the words of the spells. It seemed obvious to him that the power was neither in the wand motions nor in the words, but in the intent of the caster. He had no idea why they were being taught in this kind of backwards manner.

Well, whatever. He wasn't going to argue about it and bring attention to himself, so he just pretended to swish and flick like everyone else. There was too much attention on him as it was, thanks to that stupid Boy-Who-Lived crap.

It got a bit lonely sometimes, but not so much that he would be willing to attempt getting closer to his yearmates.

The only one that he had any regular contact with was Su Li, and that was only because she happened to be his potions partner. As luck would have it, Su was herself a quiet girl focused on her studies and didn't really try to engage him in conversation.

Padma Patil had tried to talk to him once, looking horribly embarrassed about it. As it turned out, she'd been nagged into it by her Griffyndor twin sister Parvati, who wanted to know about the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry managed not to be too annoyed with Padma for that, though her sister was another matter entirely.

The rest of his yearmates had gotten used to his prickly personality by now and kept a polite distance.

Outside of Ravenclaw, the only people he truly registered among the students were Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Hermione Granger.

The puffed up blond idiot occasionally threw out a snide remark that he probably though was clever, but did little else than that when Harry failed to react to his taunts.

Pansy he'd only noticed because she apparently belonged to the family that had taken over the Potter family business. He'd considered talking to her about it, but the pug nosed girl was distinctly unpleasant to be around and a hanger on for Draco. He might have to do it one day, but he'd been putting it off so far. It wasn't as if he could actually do anything about it yet.

As for Hermione....well, that girl seemed to be taking his seemingly easy grasp of practical spellcraft as a personal challenge and sometimes even gave him a smug look when she answered the theoretical questions correctly, when they shared classes at any rate. She seemed to be under the misconception that they were rivals or something. For such a smart girl, she was a right idiot.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry was sitting in a quiet corner of the Hogwarts library, reading. Away from his foster parents and their army of hair stylists, his hair had reverted to its natural Potterness and become hopelessly messy. It was probably taking revenge for the years of neatness imposed on it.

Harry was actually considering growing it long, mostly because a lot of fantasy spellcasters seemed to have long hair and thought it would be cool, but also because he knew it would piss off Robert and Katherine. Probably not a good idea just yet, but he promised himself to look up information on hair growing spells or potions.

He wasn't reading a book on spells at the moment however, but rather a history book. Binns was indisputably an authority on the Goblin Wars – an exceptionally boring one – but he had thus far been useless for anything else.

He was doing this because he wanted to know about the history of wands. Where had they come from? Why were they so widespread? What had been used before them? Had any kind of foci been used before them?

He had managed to learn that it was the Romans who had first discovered the secrets of wandlore and spread their use so far and wide, though it had still been centuries before every single magical had a wand. Originally, they had been reserved for the elite only. There were a great many flowery descriptions about the Roman war wizards and how their wands had allowed them to sweep away the primitive sorceries of the cultures conquered by Rome. There were no mentions of what those primitive sorceries actually were though.

No matter which history text he looked up, he could find nothing about the magics used before the advent of wands. The best he got was some mentions of the Viking runecrafters, some of whose arts were still in use today and which he would be learning in the Ancient Runes class that became available in third year. That was a rather fascinating subject and something that he had already started reading up on.

Now, Harry was willing to believe that a lot of knowledge had been lost since those times – It was about two millenia ago after all – but for nothing to be known? That had the feel of deliberate historical editing.

Combined with his suspicion that wands were somehow used as a method of control by the Ministry of Magic and the many restrictive laws on magic use that he'd found, it felt like a cover-up. Whatever the Ministry was hiding, Harry wanted it.

He took a longing glance towards the roped off Restricted Section. All of the really good stuff was undoubtedly in there. He knew that Hogwarts predated the Ministry of Magic by over five hundred years and therefore had a considerable amount of autonomy. It was highly likely that there were numerous texts in the Restricted Section that the Ministry would prefer were destroyed or locked away somewhere. He especially wanted to see if there were any books on ritual magic in there. The Ministry categorized all ritual magic as Dark and banned it wholesale, which really stuck in his craw. He'd been looking forward to performing some self-improvement rituals, if there were any.

Unfortunately, Harry had not yet figured out a way to get in there without attracting all the wrong kinds of attention.

But he would. He was going to get in there and learn whatever super secret magic was being hidden. Then he would make himself a proper tower and call it something properly dramatic like.....the High Tower of Sorcery or something. And he would cackle and throw lightning at the Ministry fools who would attack it in an attempt to steal his power!

Harry coughed and aimed a rueful grin at the history book in front of him, which just so happened to be opened on a page detailing the exploits of Yngvar the Insane, a Swedish Dark Lord from the 7th century, so called for his use of an unknown(or deliberately forgotten) spell that called a storm of lightning from the heavens. He was considered insane because lightning storms were a bit random and couldn't be aimed, which eventually spelled the end of Yngvar when it fried him instead of his enemies. What he'd actually been trying to achieve with this Thor impersonation, the book didn't say.

In fact, Harry had noticed a recurring theme of unclear motivations for quite a few past Dark Lords. Europe as a whole averaged at least one Dark Lord or Lady per century, often a bit more. The 14th had been particularly eventful, producing one every twenty-five years with clockwork precision. The two most recent ones, Voldemort and Grindelwald, had the most clearly defined motives and unquestioningly deserved to be called Dark Lords.

About the others, Harry was less sure. The books all seemed to agree about how evil and powerful they had been, but none of them said anything about their goals aside from going against the established authority. Before the Ministry of Magic, there had been a High Wizard's Council – of which the Wizengamot was a remnant – and before that, there hadn't been enough magicals to truly separate themselves from the non-magical kingdoms of the time. The only thing common to every single Dark Lord or Lady was the fact that they'd been giving the people in charge the middle finger.

It was giving Harry the distinct impression that the bureaucratic overlords simply did not like powerful wizards or witches. Which, in retrospect, was so blindingly obvious that he really should have guessed at it without need for three days of being buried in history books. Mediocre wizards in positions of authority would naturally be wary of the very powerful ones, either as rivals or simply as people who could ignore the politicking and do as they pleased.

Probably a good thing that I'm planning to take a little trip once I finish Hogwarts. He thought to himself, recalling his intentions to study magic that the Ministry deemed illegal. That would get him branded a Dark Wizard at best, possibly even a Dark Lord if he ended up being powerful enough.

Dark magic? What a laugh that was. They'd just learned the levitation charm a day ago and Harry could think of at least three ways to kill someone with it off the top of his head. How was that any better than the painless Killing Curse? Dead was dead and he wasn't going to let some government lackey tell him otherwise.

Granted, Dumbledore was an example of an extremely powerful wizard and he seemed to have avoided the Dark Lord appelation, but Harry wasn't sure he counted since the man apparently held the top position in both the British Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards, essentially making him the man that decided whether someone was a Dark Lord or not. The fact that every mention of such powerful wizards that weren't Dark Lords were invariably high up in the government only confirmed his theory.

"Harry?"

The boy in question yelped and nearly sent the books crashing to the floor, something that was sure to earn him the eternal enmity of the supremely cranky librarian.

He turned to look at his ambusher and saw the fifth year prefect, Penelope Clearwater. The girl had – for some reason – taken it upon herself to talk to him every once in a while.

"What?" He asked, a touch more rudely than he intended.

"The Halloween feast is about to start, I figured you'd lose track of time again and came to get you." Penelope said, her eyebrows drawn into a tiny frown at his tone. Harry was frequently irritated when someone intruded on his reading and had swiftly claimed the title of 'most anti-social Ravenclaw'. It was a prefect's job to look after the younger years and Penelope was determined to live up to that, but Harry Potter sometimes made it difficult to talk to him without getting annoyed.

"I don't celebrate Halloween." He said tersely. He wasn't a particularly celebratory person at the best of times, but Halloween was especially disliked ever since he'd learned how and when his parents had died. He didn't remember them and had come to terms with the fact that they were gone a long time ago, but they had died to protect him and he wouldn't celebrate their deaths. Not to mention that he'd come to loathe pumpkins since coming to Hogwarts and the Great Hall was sure to be hopelessly spammed with the hated plant right now.

"You must be hungry though." Penelope insisted softly, picking up on his increased dislike and being considerate enough to guess at the cause.

"I'm not." Harry insisted back.

Which was of course the exact moment that his stomach betrayed him with a loud rumble.

"Alright, so maybe I am hungry." He conceded. "But I'm not going to eat in the Great Hall. I've got some snacks in my room."

Penelope sighed at his stubborness. "Come with me, I can at least show you where to find the kitchens."

That caught his attention? Students could go eat in the kitchen? He could avoid the Great Hall altogether!

Unaware that she had just unintentionally facilitated further anti-social behavior from the boy that she was hoping would eventually open up a bit, Penelope led him to the lair of the Hogwarts house elves.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Harry did find the excitable house elves to be a bit much, he was also very interested in learning about a magical race. The Goblins were the only other one he'd met so far and they hadn't looked like the type to tolerate the questions of an eleven year old. He could respect that, since he wouldn't be too keen on indulging someone's curiousity either.

The house elves were more than happy to tell him anything he wanted though, and he even managed to talk to them about the kind of food and drink he preferred, so it was all good. Their extreme friendliness was a bit off putting to someone like him, but the excitable creatures apparently had a supernaturally good sense for when someone didn't want them around and toned it down as soon as Harry started feeling discomfited by the attention.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Because he was not a Griffyndor, Harry was not around when Ron Weasley tossed a careless and hurtful remark at Hermione Granger out of frustration. He didn't not know that she'd run away in tears.

Because he wasn't at the feast, he didn't hear Quirell announce that there was a troll in the dungeons.

When Penelope burst into the kitchens with a crazy tale about a troll being loose in the castle, Harry merely looked at her oddly, muttered something about a random encounter and followed her to the Ravenclaw common room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Unlike Harry, Ron was acutely aware of the fact that his housemate was missing. For a critical minute, he waffled over the decision of whether he should tell a teacher or not, wanting to escape blame for the situation. Quirell had said that the troll was in the dungeons hadn't he? Hermione wasn't down there, so she should be safe, right?

His sense of guilt and responsibility – unused though it was – eventually won out over his desire to hide from the situation and he went to McGonnagal, confessing everything.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

McGonnagal and Snape charged into the bathrrom just in time to see the troll raising its bloodied club from the misshapen ruin of Hermione Granger's body.

A full grown mountain troll was a hideously strong creature with a highly magic resistant hide, but that didn't protect it from the angry spellwork of the enraged Transfiguration Mistress and the cooler but equally deadly Potions Master.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Great Hall was both full and silent, something that was highly unusual.

In front of the staff table stood Dumbledore, wearing dour black robes and a remorseful expression.

"It is my sad duty today to inform you of the death of a Hogwarts student. Last night, Hermione Granger was attacked and killed by the troll that professor Quirell warned us about. She was an exceptionally bright witch, with a bright future ahead of her. There will be no classes this week as the Ministry's Aurors investigate and take statements, please allow them to do their jobs without interruption and cooperate with their requests. Thank you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Aurors came and went, taking statements and investigating the situation. Less than two weeks after Hermione's death, things went back to relatively normal.

Harry was baffled.

A student had died, so why was everyone acting as if it was no big deal? He knew that Hogwarts was largely autonomous, but this was ridiculous. Had a student died from something as easily preventable as a wild animal roaming in through the front doors in a muggle school, the Headmaster and staff would have been in serious hot water, private school or not.

A look at the Daily Prophet article provided some clarification.

Though the article had been scathing in tone towards Dumbledore in particular and the Hogwarts professors in general, two things stood out.

The first was the fact that the article itself was on the third page instead of on the first. You'd think that a student death at school would be big news.

The second thing was the title of the article.

Muggleborn student dies in tragic incident!

Tragic incident? That was one way of calling it.

The fact that it mentioned Hermione's blood status at all brought another thing into sharp focus. The Wizarding World lagged behind its mundane counterpart in more than just technology. Long lives made for slow social changes and discrimination based on self-entitlement was much more prominent in magical society than it was in the muggle one.

Harry wasn't blind to the attitude that some purebloods had towards the muggleborn. There wasn't much of that in Ravenclaw, but it was hard to miss the way that certain purebloods refused to sit next to the muggleborns. It was hard not to hear Draco Malfoy's bigoted commentary.

He hadn't been in any way close to Hermione, so he couldn't honestly say that her death upset him, but it had gotten him to realize something. The girl had been so competitive with him because she'd probably been looking for someone to share her academic interests in. He'd thought her stupid then, thinking that she just wanted to be the best, but now he was the one that felt stupid. She'd probably been hoping to make a friend in the only way she knew how.

He promised himself that he wouldn't be so quick to judge in the future.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Christmas holidays rolled around and Harry found himself in a much emptier Hogwarts.

He could have gone back to the Shaws, but that would inevitably mean attending some kind of high society event with them. An empty castle would have been more fun than that even if it didn't have a huge library.

Besides, he had something that he wanted to talk to the Ancient Runes professor about and the holidays were the best possible time for it.

Actually finding professor Babbling's room in the castle had turned out to be surprisingly difficult and it wasn't until he'd thought to ask one of the house elves that he succeeded.

"Mr. Potter?" The professor confusedly asked once she'd opened the door to his knocking. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"I had some questions about runes that I was hoping I could ask you." Harry answered.

"You were studying Ancient Runes on your own?" She asked happily, always pleased to hear that a student was interested in her specialty.

"Yes." Harry nodded. "So, do you have time to talk?"

"Yes of course, please come in." Babbling invited and opened the door to let him in.

Harry looked around the room curiously, having never seen a teacher's quarters before. It was bigger than his own room in the Ravenclaw tower by quite a bit, which was only to be expected, but other than that it was fairly similar. It also had a small sitting area that his room didn't have. The most notable feature of the room was the large desk covered in parchment that he presumed contained various school work assignments on runes and such.

"Have a seat." Bathsheda said, gesturing to the couch and taking a seat next to him. "Now, what was it you wanted to know?"

"I looked over the theory, but I have some trouble understanding how symbols could have any kind of magical power." Harry admitted. "It doesn't make any sense to me that just inscribing a symbol and charging it with magic would confer a certain property to the item being inscribed."

"Ah, this is a question that I am asked frequently, though not usually by first years." The professor said wrily. "Tell me Mr. Potter, have you also wondered why wand motions are neccessary?"

"Err..." Harry stalled a bit, but figured that there was no point in playing dumb. "I'd just assumed that they were used as a method of tricking people into focusing properly on a spell, the same as incantations."

Bathsheda's eyebrows climbed into her hairline in surprise, realizing that the boy in front of her must already be capable of casting silently and motionlessly to have come to that conclusion.

"You are only partially correct, Mr. Potter. The incantations are indeed just a trick to focus the mind of beginners on the effects of a spell, but the wand motions serve an actual purpose. You see, when you wave your wand, it pulls on your magic in specific ways and shapes it into the desired spell effect. The field of Arthmancy concerns itself with which wand motions are best suited to a certain spell effect. It is possible to cast without motions, but it requires a much greater focus on the part of the caster." She explained.

"I see." Harry said pensively.

"I must admit to being impressed that you have the mental focus required to cast both motionlessly and silently at your age. These are things you would have usually learned in your sixth year, so it is very rare to find a child your age capable of it." The professor praised.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment at the praise. After struggling for years to manage anything at all with wandless magic, it was practically child's play to use a wand.

"So the runes.....they don't have any actual meaning, but are just shaped in a way that directs the magic to a certain effect?" He asked, getting back to the point of his visit.

"Once again, you are only partially correct." Bathsheda told him. "Many of the runes in use today were created with the help of Arithmancy, which is a fairly modern field of study in comparison to things like Charms, Potions and Transfiguration. These runes are indeed shaped with a singular purpose in mind and it is perhaps a misnomer to call them 'ancient', as they are not that old in the grand scheme of things. There are however, older runes also in use that truly are ancient. These runes represent concepts and ideas and can have multiple meanings. They are typically more powerful than arithmantically developed runes but also less precise as their effects may vary based on the understanding and intent of the one who charges them with magic."

"Wouldn't it be possible to use a completely made up rune in that case, as long as you assigned it meaning?" Harry asked, confused.

"Theoretically yes, but you would be aware that the runes were made up and therefore subconsciously make them meaningless." Babbling explained with a small grin, enjoying the conversation. Mr. Potter had clearly done quite a bit of research on the subject and she was looking forward to having him in her class in a few years. "There is also an unproven theory in the academic circles that the older runes have been in use for so long that their meanings have become imprinted on the wild magic of the Earth, which is why they are more powerful."

"That's an interesting theory." Harry commented a bit absently. "I had just one more question."

"By all means."

"The books all seemed to agree that writing runes on yourself either wouldn't work or was downright dangerous, but they didn't explain why."

"Ah, that." Bathsheda said with a bit of a grumble. "I have long thought that every book on runes should contain more thorough warnings about such practices and I make sure to mention it during my classes."

"So it can be done?" Harry pressed.

"Yes Mr. Potter, it can, though it is most unwise." She admitted. "Merely using a quill to write runes on your skin and charging it with magic would achieve nothing, as the magic would be superficial and resisted by your body. Tattooing them into your skin would confer some effects, but likely not ones that you would wish. There would be a conflict between the intentions of the tattoo artist and yourself, leading to a wide variety of unpredictable complications. Furthermore, the runes would be attempting to make changes to your body and magic and would not have the necessary power to do so, once again causing nothing but complications. Even worse, wizards differ from muggles in that their magic eventually wears away the ink in a tattoo, so even if you had managed to impart some kind of positive effect to yourself through a rune tattoo, it would eventually disperse and quite likely harm you in the process."

"I see." Harry said again, looking thoughtful. "Thank you, this was very informative. Could I come talk to you again if I had any more questions?"

"Of course." Bathsheda agreed, wanting to encourage his obvious interest in runes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

On Christmas morning, Harry found himself puzzled upon seeing a present with his name on it at the foot of his bed.

He knew it wasn't from the Shaws, as those two treated every holiday as an opportunity to suck up to someone at one social event or another. The only present he'd ever gotten from them was clothing that they expected him to wear to one of said social events. It had rather ruined the point of Christmas to him.

Upon opening it, he saw that it held a shimmering silvery cloak. He could practically feel the tingle of magic under his fingers as he touched it. A little experimentation led to the awed realization that it was an actual invisibility cloak. Who in the world could have possibly given him this?

A look at the attached card provided only some bafflement.

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A Very Merry Christmas to you.

There was no signature to the note written in loopy handwriting, but a little guesswork allowed him to figure out who it was.

He didn't really know anyone in the Wizarding world aside from the people in Hogwarts. It wasn't likely to be the students, as he wasn't exactly that close to any of them and he strongly doubted that they would have given him such an obviously valuable artefact.

Most of the teachers were also excluded, on grounds of him being familiar with their handwriting already. The only one that it might have been was professor Babbling, but he'd only talked to her once so she wasn't likely to have given him such a thing.

Having excluded all of his aquaintances, he tentatively assumed that it was sent by the headmaster. He seemed like the type to hoard magical items. Reading over the note again, he came to another realization.

He gifted me with something that technically belongs to me in the first place? Or failing that, re-gifted me with something that my father gave him? And he admitted it as if it was no big deal? Wow, that's just...wow.

Harry had to be impressed by the sheer gall of the man, though he was too happy with the invisibility cloak to take much umbrage.

After all, the headmaster had just given him exactly what he needed to pay a clandestine visit to the Restricted Section. But first, there was a present to send out. He'd gotten the idea for it months ago, but hadn't been planning to actually go through with it, as it had the potential to backfire on him quite spectacularly. The invisibility cloak had put him in a gift-giving mood though.

"Could I talk to a house elf, please?" He said to the empty room, not sure if it would work.

"You's needing Blinky?" Apparently, it did work.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Severus Snape started in surprise as a Christmas present appeared on his desk. He had already received the usual bottle of firewhiskey from Minerva that would last him a year, as well as the bag of muggle candies from the headmaster that he had summarily disposed of as usual.

Nobody else ever gave him presents. Ever.

After casting every detection spell he knew on the small parcel, he was forced to conclude that it was not a trap and that someone had indeed done so.

Warily unwrapping it, he stared in slowly rising anger at the muggle notebook and pen, exactly like the ones he'd forbidden Potter from using in his classroom.

The cheeky brat was mocking him! Just like his useless, arrogant father! James bloody Potter would....would....would not have done this. No, James Potter would have played some juvenile prank in the halls or during dinner, and he would have done it a lot sooner too.

This was the kind of passive aggressive response that Lily would have given him after she came down from the initial hot tempered rage.

I thought you might appreaciate the convenience of being able to take notes for your potions in one place without the hassle of inkpots or ink splotches.

The equally passive aggressive note wasn't signed, further reinforcing Snape's sense of nostalgia as he stared at the neat handwriting.

The boy had obviously never heard of self-inking and ever-neat quills before, nor of the enchanted notebooks that never ran out of pages. Lily had been dubious about wizarding stationery at first too.

Without the face of a miniature James Potter making him angry and no people around for which to keep up appearances, Snape spent his Christmas morning in nostalgic reminiscence of the only friend he'd ever had.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

December 26th

It was very late and the Hogwarts library was dark, silent and empty.

Empty, except for the invisible Harry Potter strolling through the Restricted Section, hungrily looking at the books. There were so many things he wanted to look up that it was hard to decide what to pick first.

Obscure spells had a strong draw to the mindset of an eleven year old, but Harry pulled his attention away from those, knowing that he didn't have the power to cast them yet and having enough caution not to try it anyway.

Eventually, he came across something that he had wanted to know ever since he'd learned about the Wizarding World.

The Theory of Rituals: The Magick of Sacrifice.

Harry swallowed nervously, wondering if this was a book detailing the proper way to sacrifice a virgin, which he had no intention of doing.

On the other hand, the book was using Ye Olde English in the title, which was always a good sign.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albus Dumbledore was feeling a mite frustrated.

He knew that Voldemort would return and he knew that Harry Potter was prophesized to vanquish him.

The problem was that Harry Potter did not seem very heroically inclined. He had been curious about the parcel that Hagrid had retrieved from Gringott's, but not enough to look into it any further. He hadn't been inquisitive enough to take a peek behind the forbidden door in the third floor corridor. Albus wasn't even sure if he was aware of the break in at Gringott's. Not that Dumbledore really wanted him to try getting passed the defenses, but he had hoped that Harry would be curious. A powerful sense of curiousity was essential for a hero and Harry Potter simply didn't have it.

The boy was actually alarmingly disconnected from the Wizarding World. Aside from his obvious desire to learn magic and the tenuous link to his dead parents, Harry Potter had literally no ties to Wizarding Britain.

Not for the first time, Albus lamented the boy's placement in Ravenclaw. Even Slytherin might have been better, though it would have undoubtedly been difficult on him. At the very least, it would have forced him to interact with his peers, whereas Ravenclaw had a well known reputation for fostering introversion.

This wasn't usually something that Dumbledore would interfere with, but Harry Potter had a destiny ahead of him and that destiny would not be fulfilled by studying magic in seclusion.

He was well aware of the boy's recent excursions into the Restricted Section, but did not bother to stop him. What difference did it make anyway? The boy would have to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated once and for all, so his dabbling in illegal magics was of no concern. The knowledge might even come in handy at some point. The primer on ritual magic that he'd read the other night was hardly alarming anyway. Despite the ominous title and what the Ministry had to say about it, it was little more than a theoretical discourse on the nature of magic, with a focus on rituals. Dumbledore had removed the worst of the reading material in there during Tom Riddle's seventh year. He still regretted not doing it sooner.

He had no real fear of Harry joining up with Voldemort. The Dark Lord would never suffer a rival to his power and being destroyed by a year old baby would be an unforgivable insult to him. Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort would be enemies no matter what, but Harry might just decide to leave Britain instead of fighting if he had nothing tying him here.

If only he had been sorted into Gryffindor! Albus was sure that he would have become fast friends with Hermione Granger. They had been similar enough.

The girl's death had shaken the old headmaster far more than he let on. Minerva had often told him that keeping the Philosopher's Stone in Hogwarts was a terrible idea, but he had been sure that it was for the best. He had been sure that he would be able to handle the shade of Voldemort without there being any danger to the students. He wasn't sure any longer.

For all the pretty words that he had spun for the Aurors about the troll wandering in through a hitherto undiscovered secret passage, Dumbledore knew that it was his fault.

Regardless of his shaken confidence, he desperately needed to get a better handle on Harry Potter. Wizarding Britain and the Light would need a champion in the dark times that were approaching and Dumbledore knew that he was too old to fill that role himself. He had already been too old in the last war. A successor had to be moulded, even if he would die at the end of the conflict. Perhaps another miracle would allow Harry Potter to survive, as it had when he was a baby. An old man could hope, even if it was a fool's hope.

In the meanwhile, the Mirror of Erised would hopefully reveal if the boy had any desires that could be useful. A discreet compulsion charm would make sure that he found it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had no idea how exactly he'd ended up in this abandoned classroom with the weird looking mirror. He'd just felt an insatiable desire to wander about Hogwarts and basically stumbled upon it.

That was a bit odd for him, as he had no desire to interact with Filch, the miserable bastard. The man apparently couldn't grasp the fact that there was a slightly different set of rules in play during the holidays and had tried to get him in trouble for imagined infractions several times already.

Honestly, what did he even do at Hogwarts? His post as caretaker seemed to be completely made up just so that the bitter man would have an excuse to stay at the castle.

But for some reason, he felt the need to wander tonight and how here he was, staring at a tall mirror with a gold frame and clawed feet.

It was an interesting looking mirror, but the image it showed was the true puzzle. Instead of reflecting his proper image, it showed Harry the way that he hoped he would look as an adult. Tall and broad shouldered, long haired and roguishly handsome, with an aura of power draped over his shoulders like an invisible mantle. He was also wearing a rather badass looking set of robes that looked a great deal more practical than the nightgown-esque apparel that wizards actually tended to wear, more like a sort of half-robe or something.

Even more puzzling than the skewed reflection of himself, it also showed someone standing next to him. This person was utterly indistinct. He couldn't tell the color of the hair or eyes, couldn't put his finger on height or body shape. He thought it might be a woman, but the more he looked, the less certain he was of that. It was as if his mind was simply unable to focus on the figure aside from determining that there was a figure.

There was an inscription on the top, spelling out 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi', which told him nothing. He couldn't even begin to guess what language that was in.

There was something compelling about the image, but Harry could not for the life of him determine what it was. The vision of his adult self seemed obvious enough, a representation of his hopes perhaps, but what about the other figure?

Harry hated riddles. In fact, the bloody door knocker that asked you a riddle every time you wanted to enter Ravenclaw tower was the thing that he found the most irritating about his house. He'd had to wait for someone else to answer the damn thing quite a few times already, though he was getting the hang of answering correctly by sheer force of repetition.

Usually when confronted with a particularly irritatind riddle that he couldn't solve, he would abandon it for a time and maybe come back later, but not this time. There was something about this image that made him want to understand it.

"Captivating, is it not?" An old voice asked from behind an indeterminate amount of time later, startling him quite badly.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

Dumbledore chuckled in amusement. "I could ask you the same thing."

Harry flushed in embarrassment, realizing how his blurted out question must have sounded. "Sorry, sir."

"It is quite alright, my boy." The old wizard said kindly. A little rudeness was the least he could tolerate from Harry in exchange for the compulsion he'd cast on him, even if the boy didn't know it.

"So, err, what does this mirror do?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"The clue is in the inscription, but you must remember that it is a mirror." Dumbledore hinted.

Harry frowned in confusion and looked at the inscription again. With the rather large hint he'd been given, it didn't take long to guess that he had to read it backwards.

"I show not your face, but your heart's desire?" He wondered.

"Indeed, the Mirror of Erised does not reflect ourselves, but the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts." Dumbledore clarified. "Men have wasted away before it, yearning for what it shows them, even if they know it to be impossible. Perhaps especially if they know it to be impossible."

"What do you see, sir?" Harry ventured carefully, knowing that it was a personal question.

Dumbledore looked at the mirror, seeing his family once more unbroken and whole around him and feeling the familiar ache in his heart that always accompanied the image. His parents standing together happily, Ariana alive and well, Aberforth reconciled with him. His old friend and lover Gellert next to him, not a Dark Lord but a good man. It was an impossible dream, and all the more painful for it.

"I see myself getting a pair of thick wooly socks for Christmas." He finally answered. "People always get me books for Christmas, you see."

Harry didn't believe that for a moment. Socks were simply not something that you could have a desperate desire for unless you were stuck barefoot in the cold. He wasn't going to say anything though, as his question had been quite personal.

"Orphans often see their parents returned to them, would I be correct in guessing that this is what it shows you?" Dumbledore asked, fibbing at little. The Mirror of Erised had not been exposed to orphans as far as he could remember, but it seemed a reasonable guess.

"No sir, it doesn't." Harry answered with a small frown.

Perhaps if the Shaws had not adopted him, that is what it would have showed him. He knew better now than to wish for his parents to be returned to him. He had no doubt that they had loved him and it would be good to see them, but things could not go back to what they could have been. They would have tried to set limits on him that he had already outgrown. They would do it out of love and concern, but it would have infuriated him all the same. He didn't fit into the role of 'eleven year old son' anymore.

"Truly?" Dumbledore queried with an eyebrow raised in surprise. "May I ask what you see?"

Unlike the old wizard, Harry did not consider the image to be anything massively private and he very much wanted to understand it.

Dumbledore listened attentively as Harry described what he saw, using a light touch of Legilimency to see the image for himself.

"I may know what it represents, but let me ask you one more question to make certain." He said when Harry was done talking, waiting for the boy to nod his permission. "Are you happy with your foster parents?"

"Not really, no." Harry answered reluctantly. "It isn't a bad place to live, but putting up with them is a bit of a chore sometimes."

Having used Legilimency just then to see if he was being told the truth, Dumbledore knew that Harry considered any interaction with Robert and Katherine Shaw to be a chore. He held back a sigh. No wonder that the mirror did not show him his parents. Getting adopted only to have his hopes of a loving family crushed by reality had no doubt been a heavy blow to a young child.

"In that case, I believe that the mirror is showing you the image that you associate with freedom and independence, yourself as a powerful adult." He said, not letting his thoughts show.

"And the other figure?" Harry asked.

"I presume that it symbolizes your well hidden desire for companionship." Dumbledore answered. "Believe me when I tell you this, young Harry; all the power and riches in the world will not make you happy if you have no one to share them with. This is a truth that the powerful often do not realize until it is too late, if they do at all."

Headmaster and student both left the room after that, both of them thoughtful.

Dumbledore pondered how this new information could be used to inspire a sense of loyalty and responsibility towards Wizarding Britain in Harry Potter.

As for Harry, he reassesed his life goals. He remembered that virtually none of his books featured a solitary protagonist, something he had never considered before but it seemed obvious now. The antagonist was always alone, surrounded by minions at best, while the protagonist had friends. He didn't have any worries about suddenly developing the urge to rule the world, but he had to admit that he did feel a bit lonely. Perhaps making a friend wouldn't be such a bad idea?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry quickly discovered that making a friend was a great deal harder than simply deciding that he would try it. He had not the foggiest idea about how to make friends with someone after he'd spent months isolating himself. None of his yearmates approached him anymore and he couldn't quite bring himself to approach them either.

The status quo continued as the months slipped away and Harry eventually gave it up as a bad job, deciding to try again next year.

Instead, he continued to spend his time studying and practicing magic, sneaking into the Restricted Section as time allowed. He also made a few more visits to Bathsheda Babbling to talk about runes and to Septima Vector for Arithmancy. Both teachers were glad to discuss their subjects with him, unaware of the idea that slowly took shape in his mind.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albus Dumbledore noticed the continued isolation of Harry Potter and sympathized with the boy, having plucked the reason for it out of his mind. Trying again next year did indeed seem to be a reasonable course of action.

He knew that Ginny Weasley would be coming to Hogwarts next year, so perhaps he could arrange something there? The Weasleys were a staunchly Light family and would no doubt quickly accept Harry into their midst. She would be a Gryffindor of course, but that wouldn't be too difficult a hurdle to get past.

He was still a bit disappointed by Harry's lack of interest in the mystery of the third floor corridor, but he wasn't willing to manipulate the boy into investigating it. Having already lost one student to the club of a troll, he had no desire to lose another to the fangs of a cerberus. Especially not when he was sure that Harry would play a crucial role in the coming war.

There was a bit of a minor emergency in April, when Hagrid nearly burned his hut down with a dragon of all things. Fortunately, Albus had become aware of it just in time and contacted Charlie Weasley, who was able to help sneak the little bundle of teeth and rage away from the school before the half-giant found himself serving time in Azkaban for illegally hatching a dragon.

Upon learning how exactly Hagrid had come by a dragon egg, Dumbledore knew that Voldemort was on the move. With that, the incidents of killed unicorns also suddenly made sense.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Quirell and an increasingly impatient Voldemort found themselves stumped by the final hurdle on their quest to get the Philosopher's Stone. All the other defenses had been pathetic(except the cerberus, that one had actually been dangerous), but this final one was proving incredibly problematic.

And then Dumbledore showed up.

"Hello Tom."

"Shite."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Harry asked as he stepped into the headmaster's office.

"Indeed I did, my boy." Dumbledore replied jovially, gesturing to a chair. "Please have a seat."

Harry did so, looking around the office curiously. There were all sorts of odd devices scattered around, as well as a rather ostentatious gold perch that was currently empty.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, breaking Harry from his inspection of the office.

"No thank you." Harry declined politely. "Professor Flitwick said that you had something you needed to discuss with me?"

Dumbledore noticed with some dismay that Harry refused to make eye contact with him now. The boy had apparently found a book on the Mind Arts in the Restricted Section and was now practicing the most basic form of defense against mental probing. Namely, not letting it take place to begin with. Wise of him, but so very inconvenient for Dumbledore.

"Indeed I do Harry. It concerns your summer accomodations."

"What about them?" Harry asked, confused.

"You may not know this, but it was I who placed you with the Dursleys ten years ago." Dumbledore admitted.

"Why?" Harry asked with an edge to his voice, his eyes narrowing a fraction. He had no good memories of that place.

"Even though Voldemort was gone, many of his followers were still free and would have killed you if given the chance. The nature of your mother's death confered unto you a powerful protection, a protection I was able to extend to encompass the entirety of your aunt's house for as long you lived in the same home as her. I never expected that they would treat you so poorly and for that you have my most sincere apologies."

"Alright, but how is that important now?" Harry asked a bit tersely, wanting to move away from the subject of the Dursleys.

"Have you been at all curious as to why I declared the third floor corridor off limits this year?"

"I was." Harry admitted. "But I decided not to check if you were joking about the 'painful death' part after the incident with the troll."

Dumbledore's eyes dimmed as he remembered the girl who had died because of his blunder. Now that he knew that Quirell had been possessed, he could also guess that the troll had been set loose deliberately. Contrary to popular belief, the school wards did not give him omniscient knowledge of all that went on in Hogwarts' walls.

"Behind that door was a series of traps that led to a great prize, a prize designed to lure Voldemort into the open." He explained.

"Isn't he supposed to be dead?" Harry interrupted.

"He is supposed to be, but I have long suspected otherwise. Just the other day, my suspicion was confirmed."

Harry sank deeper into his chair, recalling all the incidents that simply screamed 'plot relevant event' that he'd dismissed so far.

"Please don't tell me that I'm destined to fight him or something." He nearly begged. He was way too young to be fighting Dark Lords. Adventures were supposed to start with killing giant rats in someone's cellar! This was bullshit.

Dumbledore jerked violently in his chair and stared in pure shock, his composure failing him as the boy rather correctly guessed at the truth.

"Oh my God, I am destined to fight him, aren't I?" Harry asked in disbelief, staring at the old wizard's almost guilty expression.

Under his desk, Dumbledore fingered his wand. He'd just inadvertantly let Harry know something that he hadn't been intending to reveal for quite a few more years, but a simple Obliviate could fix the screw up.

.....On the other hand, this could be used to gauge how the boy would react to the prophecy. He could always obliviate him later.

"Well, you see Harry, there was a prophecy made before you were born..." He said reluctantly, still not sure if this was wise.

Harry groaned. No matter where they popped up, be it books or games, prophecies were always more trouble than they were worth.

"What does it say?"

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...." Dumbledore recited from memory, carefully watching Harry for a reaction.

Harry listened attentively and then sighed.

"At least this one is fairly straightforward and doesn't say anything about my father being the Lord of Murder."

Dumbledore blinked. This one? Lord of Murder?

"I am going to have to ask you to explain that, my boy." He said carefully, wondering if there was a second prophecy in play. That could change everything.

"It's from an old computer game I played last year, nothing to be worried about." Harry waved off.

Dumbledore wasn't entirely sure how games could be played on those muggle contraptions or how there could be prophecies in a game, but he was willing to take Harry's word for it since he felt that the boy was telling the truth. He felt no small amount of relief about it too, as a prophecy about a Lord of Murder sounded quite dire.

"So I'm assuming that this scar on my forehead is the mark that Voldemort supposedly gave me?" Harry asked, tracing a finger over the mark in question.

"It is." Dumbledore confirmed.

"What about this 'power he knows not'?" Harry pressed. "Any ideas on what that's supposed to be?"

"I believe it to be love. You see, Voldemort has never known love and does not understand it. It was your mother's love that allowed you to survive his killing curse ten years ago."

Harry looked at the old headmaster oddly for several long moments, wondering if he was serious. He certainly looked serious, but the words he'd just uttered made no sense.

"You'll excuse me if I don't try to combat a ruthless Dark Lord that can apparently cheat death with love. Hell, with the vague way it's worded, the 'power he knows not' could be referring to my ability to lick my elbows." He said slowly. "Speaking of which, are you sure that this prophecy is genuine?"

Dumbledore decided not to comment on the first sentence. Even though he was sure that he was correct about the secret power being love, he also recognized the value of not putting all your eggs in one basket, which was a bit ironic since that was exactly what he ended up needing to do with Harry.

He was also quite impressed that Harry could apparently lick his elbows. He hadn't thought that was possible.

"It is genuine, but I'm afraid that it would not matter even if it was not. You see, Voldemort knows the first part of the prophecy as well and he believes it, which makes it genuine."

"Right, self-fulfilling prophecy. The worst kind." Harry sighed.

"I must say that you are taking this remarkably well, my boy." Dumbledore commented. Had he been making too big of a deal about telling Harry the prophecy?

"Would freaking out make it not true?" Harry asked with rarely used sarcasm.

"No." Dumbledore admitted. Though it would tell me that obliviation is the way to go.

"So...now what?" Harry asked after a short silence had passed.

"I doubt you will need to worry about Voldemort for quite some time." Dumbledore reassured. "He is less than a ghost at the moment and will find it difficult to return to physical form. It is possible that he may be prevented from doing so entirely, but he has always been crafty, so I would not place my hopes on that possibility."

"That's something at least." Harry grumbled, only mildly reassured that he wouldn't need to fight a full fledged Dark Lord in the immediate future. "Why is he still floating around anyway?"

"I am not sure." Dumbledore fibbed. He had no intention of telling Harry about the fact that he was a horcrux. "Now, I believe that we have wandered greatly off topic. We were discussing your summer accomodations."

"Yes, why were we doing that?"

"I will be blunt with you Harry, your home with the Shaws is not safe. The Dursley household was protected by powerful blood wards, which was why I placed you there to begin with. Anyone could attack you at your current residence, so I am offering to let you stay at Hogwarts over the summers." Dumbledore offered, fairly sure that the boy would accept

"That's very generous of you headmaster, but I'm afraid that I can't accept. I have some things I want to do over the summer that I simply can't do at Hogwarts." Harry declined politely. There were quite a few things that he wanted to do over the summer holidays for which he did not want any of the Hogwarts professors present. Things that now had a sense of urgency after learning about that bloody prophecy.

"I must urge you to reconsider, Harry." Dumbledore insisted. "If any wizards with ill intent were to find you there, you would be virtually defenseless."

"Does anyone in the Wizarding World aside from you and professor McGonagall even know where I live?" Harry asked with a frown.

"No..." Dumbledore admitted reluctantly.

"Then I will stay where I am for the moment. I will reconsider it if things start getting more dangerous."

"Are you certain?" Dumbledore tried one last time. "You could do magic in Hogwarts."

"I'm sure." Harry replied, knowing that he was going to be doing a lot of magic over the summer, some of it probably illegal even outside of the underage restriction.

"Very well." Dumbledore sighed. He could have tried forcing the issue but that would likely cause Harry to resent him, which would be disastrous in the future. "Please take this then. Keep it close and and say 'lemon drop' if you find yourself in danger."

"How is a sock going to help me?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Dumbledore smiled and explained the concept of portkeys.

Chapter Text

Harry spent no more than three days at 74 Cromwell Road before he went back to Diagon Alley to take care of some business. Robert and Katherine had not been too happy about his newly developed sense of independence and tried to protest, in response to which he may or may not have implied that they would have their memories wiped if he didn't do this.

Losing access to him ten months out of a year was putting quite a crimp in their plans to parade him around as their perfect son, which he knew was likely to become a problem soon. They might be terrified of the idea of some wizard messing about in their heads, but that wouldn't last forever. Hopefully the situation wouldn't implode before he was ready to be shot of them.

The reason for his visit to Diagon Alley was an appointment with the solicitor to whom he'd sent a letter before the school year had ended. He'd been a bit surprised at the speed with which the appointment had been arranged. Either the Wizarding World had less legal business, or his fame was being useful for a change and speeding things up.

That was still a while off however, as he'd come to Diagon Alley early with the express intent of looking around without a Hogwarts professor trying to direct his shopping.

All in all, he didn't find too much of interest that he hadn't seen on his first trip through, but there was one thing he found that made the entire trip worth it even if everything else turned out to be a bust.

"A Bag of Holding?" Harry asked admiringly, his eyes fixated greedily on the unassuming little bag. "How much?"

"Lad, this here's a Mokeskin Pouch." The shopkeeper said chidingly. "And I don't think a muggleborn could afford it, they're rare and expensive."

While Harry was glad to see that the simple disguise of normal clothes and a cap worked to disguise his identity just as well as the first time, he was more than a little annoyed by the condescending attitude. The shopkeeper wasn't trying to be condescending and his tone was actually rather friendly, but the casual assumption that muggleborns wouldn't have enough money to buy the good stuff was still grating.

Granted, Harry was not exactly a muggleborn, but he was honestly wondering about the lack of muggleborn Dark Lords if this was the kind of shit they had to put up with all the time.

And the shopkeeper was also wrong. That thing was a Bag of Holding, end of discussion. What the hell was a moke anyway?

"How much is it?" Harry repeated himself.

The shopkeeper sighed in exasperation at the persistent boy. "Two hundred galleons."

"That is pretty expensive." Harry agreed.

"I told you-"

"I'll have to come back with the money later, could you reserve it for me?" He kept on talking, not letting the shopkeeper finish the 'I told you so'.

"You mean you can afford it?" The shopkeeper asked in surprise.

"Yes." Harry answered tersely.

Friggin' Diagon Alley shopkeepers should be replaced with NPC's. They'd be less annoying that way.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"So Mr. Potter, what can we do for you today?" The solicitor said eagerly. Representing the Boy-Who-Lived would be a huge coup for him.

"I would like to take legal action against Enid Pennifold, the author of the Harry Potter book series, for using my name without permission." Harry answered simply.

"I see." The solicitor said thoughtfully. "If she has truly been using your name without permission then you certainly have legal grounds to do so, but I must warn you that removing the books themselves from circulation will likely prove impossible at this point."

"I thought as much." Harry admitted. "I'm actually more interested in profiting from it."

"You don't care what she wrote about you?" The solicitor asked with raised eyebrows.

"As you said yourself, removing the books from circulation will be impossible, so the damage is already done. A percentage of past and future profits made from these books will have to do. If at all possible I would like this settled quietly and without media interference."

"That we can certainly do." The solicitor agreed. "I will send you an owl once the preliminary negotiations are finished."

Harry thanked the man and shook his hand, surprised but pleased that things had been so simple.

Now it was time to go to Gringotts and withdraw the money for the Bag of Holding.

And for another talk with Gorefist after that. He had a feeling that he would not be the goblins favorite person after this talk, so it was better to withdraw the money first.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Mr. Potter, to what do I owe the pleasure this year?" Gorefist asked, his tone making it clear that it was not a pleasure of any kind.

"I just came to warn you that I will be receiving a substantial deposit of money to my vault sometime in the near future." Harry said evenly.

"I am afraid there is a 200 galleon fee attached for every two thousand galleons deposited." Gorefist grinned nastily.

"Not this time there isn't." Harry disagreed calmly, having expected something of the sort. "In fact, you will also be lowering the fee on our previous arrangement down to 5%."

"Why would I do that?" The goblin asked, his grin becoming decidedly uglier.

"Because if you don't, I will simply stop using the services of your bank."

Gorefist's grin faltered. If the Potter heir pulled all his gold out of Gringotts, he would be left the manager of an empty vault. He would be a laughing stock. Even if there was a high likelihood of the Potter fortune getting stolen outside of Gringotts, that wouldn't help him.

"You cannot use any other bank!" He snarled. "Our treaty with the Ministry of Magic forbids it."

Ah yes, the Goblin-Wizard Treaty of 1726, which explicitly states that no ICW member nation would use any bank other than Gringotts. The goblins had been able to force that concession from wizardkind after a two decade long war.

Unfortunately for them, they had not looked at the small print, which said that in return for this they agreed to be bound by the laws of the ICW and the local Ministries of Magic forevermore, essentially turning the goblins into a vassal nation. The full treaty was a great deal more verbose of course, but that was the gist of it. This being a magical contract, it was still in effect.

Except in America. The American wizards had helped their muggle counterparts throw off the control of Britain during the American Revolution, but instead of fighting British wizards, they'd elected to slaughter the goblins.

North America was still technically part of the ICW, but their relations with Europe were colder than one of Snape's smiles.

The goblins had rebelled several times against wizards after that. In fact, every time that the Ministry breached the treaty in the slightest way, the situation had erupted into violence. That was why the goblins stuck so scrupulously to the letter of any agreements these days, it was easier to find loopholes that way.

Humans and goblins had been enemies since time immemorial, always warring against each other for one reason or another, but mostly for the simple fact that both seemed to be intolerant dicks with a superiority complex. When wizards had discovered the secrets of wandlore, the balance had begun tipping in favor of humanity. Goblins had been trying to figure out a way to make wands for themselves ever since, with no success. After the 1726 Treaty, they were banned from using them, alongside every other non-human.

The goblins had never forgiven that bit of treachery, even though they would have done the exact same thing if given half a chance.

Harry had a long time to consider how to prevent himself from getting swindled in the future after his first meeting with Gorefist, so he'd researched the history of the goblins and their conflict against wizards in particular and humans in general with a dedication that would have made Binns proud.

He'd discovered that greed was an integral part of the goblin psyche. Greed drove the short but vicious creatures more than any other impulse.

"I never said anything about using another bank." Harry replied evenly.

"Where will you keep your gold then, wizard?" Gorefist demanded, twisting the last word into an insult.

"That is no concern of yours, goblin." Harry emulated, though he suspected that he hadn't managed to put as much venom into it as his account manager.

Truthfully, he had nothing personal against the goblins, but he wasn't going to let himself get robbed just because they were nursing an old grudge against wizards.

Gorefist snarled again, slamming his hand angrily against his desk.

Harry had to fight hard not to jump. They might be midgets, but goblins were still pretty scary.

"You cannot withdraw from the main Potter vault until you are of age." Gorefist reminded him angrily.

"I know, I am intending to use that time to improve my ability to guard my gold." Harry replied, still keeping his voice calm and even.

"A hundred galleons for every two thousand and 15% for the transfers out of your trust vault." Gorefist growled out, seeing that the boy was dead serious.

"seventy five galleons for every six thousand and 5% for the transfers."

"One hundred galleons for every three thousand and 13% for the transfers."

"Seventy for every five thousand and 4% for the transfers."

"That is not how you negotiate, wizard!" Gorefist snapped in outrage. "Eighty for every four thousand and 10% for the transfers."

"You didn't seem bothered about charging unfairly exorbitant fees to me last year, I'm not going to be bothered about negotiation protocol now." Harry replied with a mocking smirk. "Fifty for every five thousand and 3% for the transfers."

Gorefist roared in outrage and gripped his desk hard enough that his claws gouged the wood.

"Fine! We are agreed, NOW GET OUT!"

Harry simply nodded and left the office, leaving behind a fuming goblin that spent the next twenty minutes inventively cursing his ancestry in Gobbledegook.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry spent those same twenty minutes walking off his adrenaline rush. He'd been preparing for that confrontation for months, but it had been a lot more intense than he'd expected.

So very satisfying though.

Now he just needed to figure out where he was going to put all that gold in the event that he actually needed to take it out of Gringotts. He somehow doubted that the Bag of Holding that he was even now going to buy would hold all of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few days later.

Harry blinked at the sight of the house elf in his room, baffled as to why one of the excitable creatures would be here.

The house elf gave a bow so low that his long nose touched the floor.

"Hello?" Harry greeted, bemused.

"Harry Potter." The house elf exclaimed loudly enough to make Harry glad that his room was fairly far out of the way. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir. Such an honor it is."

Harry winced preemptively, knowing that his next words were likely to elicit a dramatic reaction. Unfortunately, the alternative was to treat the house elf like a lesser creature and he just couldn't do that. Judging by the stained pillowcase that Dobby was wearing, he got enough of that already.

"Would you like to sit down?"

"S-sit down?!" Dobby wailed predictably. "Never...never ever..." There was a moment of incomprehensible blubbering before Dobby made sense again. "Never has Dobby been asked to sit down by a wizard! Like an equal."

"Not a Hogwarts elf then?" Harry asked, having enough experience with house elves to know that trying to comfort one was liable to just set off another round of hysteria. He felt bad for the little creatures, especially this one since he seemed to be bonded to a less than pleasant master, but attracting the attention of his foster parents wouldn't help anyone.

"No, sir." Dobby answered, much more calmly now. "But Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter! Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts!"

"Why not?"

"There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make terrible things happen at Hogwatts. Dobby tried to stop Harry Potter from getting mail from his friends at Hogwarts to make him not want to go back, but Harry Potter was not getting any mail from his friends!"

Harry's lips twitched in humor. He probably should be upset about a house elf trying to screen his mail, but the thought of Dobby attempting it, only to discover that he wasn't getting any letters was just too funny.

"I'm afraid I haven't made any friends the past year." Harry explained.

"No friends? The great Harry Potter has no friends?" Dobby asked, blinking in apparent bafflement.

"Better no friends than bad friends." Harry shrugged, not really wanting to explain his entire situation. The two people who had first attempted to befriend him, Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy, would definitely fit into the 'bad friend' category at least.

"Harry Potter is wise." Dobby stated, nodding compulsively as if he'd just heard something profound. "So Harry Potter will understand that he must not return to Hogwarts."

"Can you tell me what this terrible plot is?" Harry asked.

"Dobby cannot, sir."

Of course, that would be a much more direct betrayal than merely coming to warn him.

"It has something to do with Voldemort, doesn't it?" Harry sighed in resignation. This was practically a textbook example of foreshadowing and given the prophecy that Dumbledore had told him at the end of first year......

"Say not the name!" Dobby screeched, clapping his hands over his floppy ears.

"Right, so does it have anything to do with him?" Harry asked again, this time with an eyeroll.

"No sir, not with He-Who-Must-Not-be-named." The house elf answered.

"It doesn't?" Harry said in surprise. "Who does it have to do with then?"

For a moment, Dobby looked as if he was going to answer, but then he started smashing his head against the nearest hard surface.

"Alright, alright! I get it! You can't answer." Harry cried quickly, now wanting the excitable but friendly house elf hurting himself.

"Dobby is sorry, Harry Potter sir!" Dobby wailed. "Dobby cannot betray the masters."

"It's alright, I understand." Harry tried to reassure. "I'm guessing you don't like serving your current masters?"

"Dobby does not." The house elf confirmed, wringing his ears wretchedly. "Dobby wants to be free."

Harry grimaced. For a house elf to say that they wanted to be free, whoever Dobby was bonded to had to be really bad.

"I might have an idea about how to get you free, would you like to hear it?" He asked.

Dobby nodded frantically.

Harry leaned close to the house elf in a conspiratorial fashion. "Alright, here's what you do...."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

That same day, Dobby returned to Malfox Manor and did not immediately begin punishing himself for going to warn Harry Potter of the impending danger at Hogwarts. Soon, there would be no more need to punish himself, so Dobby felt that he could get away with a little rebellion.

The next morning, before any of the Malfoys woke up, Dobby did not start making breakfast as he usually did. Instead he went to the closest forest and looked for the slimiest, most disgusting creature he could find. This turned out to be a regular slug, but it was more than suitable for the purpose.

He put this slug into one of Lucius' socks and prepared it for the man as he always did in the mornings. This was the plan that the great Harry Potter had suggested and Dobby was sure that it would work. It was a very clever plan.

Unfortunately, things do not always go according to plan.

When Lucius slid his foot into the sock, he quickly discovered the slimy surprise and pulled it off, staring at his soiled foot in disgust.

"Elf! What is the meaning of this? What have you done" The blond man demanded harshly.

Dobby had been standing nearby, waiting with bated breath for the moment when his master would throw the sock away in disgust and he could swoop in to grab it out of the air, thereby freeing himself.

But Lucious had not thrown the sock away in disgust, holding it away from him instead.

Compelled by the bond, Dobby confessed to attempting to engineer his own freedom, though the question was vague enough that he was able to leave out any mention of Harry Potter or his unauthorized trip.

Lucius, infuriated at the mere notion that his house elf thought it could trick him like this and worse, nearly succeeding, pulled out his wand and angrily fired off a killing curse. He momentarily regretted killing his servant, but quickly rationalized that it was better than having a house elf around that thought it was clever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry hadn't been too concerned when Dobby hadn't come back the next day. When the second day passed however, he did get concerned. By the time that the third day rolled around, he had accepted the fact that his plan had failed and hoped that the consequences for Dobby hadn't been too dire. He feared that they had been, given what little he knew of the house elf's masters.

It was also on this day that he received his solicitor's owl.

Mr Potter,

I have spoken to Ms. Pennifold and explained to her your displeasure at how she used your name to sell her books.

She was quite mortified to hear of this. Apparently, she wrote the first one in a fit of inspiration after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and never intended to publish it, but was persuaded into doing so by a friend and things simply snowballed from there.

She agreed to pay you a sum of thirty thousand galleons as compensation, 40% of any future sales, as well as agreeing to add a disclaimer to the effect of the books being entirely fictional. Overall it is considerably more generous than what I had expected to get out of this for so little effort. Ms. Pennifold has also asked if you would be willing to participate in a book signing to endorse future sales some time in the future.

Harry put down the letter and rubbed his face tiredly. Great. Now he was not just worried about what had happened to Dobby, but he was also feeling like a jerk for siccing a lawyer on a woman that had no malicious intent with her books, even if they were bloody ridiculous. As for the book signing idea....yeah, he had absolutely no desire to do that right now, maybe not ever.

This day was already shaping up to be simply spectacular and it wasn't even noon. Now all he needed was...

"Harry? Remember that we're having important visitors over in the evening. Come down so that we can go over the itinerary again." Katherine Shaw's voice came from the intercom that they had felt the need to install in his room for some reason.

Harry groaned miserably. He'd forgotten all about that stupid dinner party. The day officially sucked.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry approached the doors of Potter Manor with some trepidation. All of these old manor houses were said to be heavily warded and he was taking a bit of a gamble in assuming that the wards would recognize him as a Potter himself. They should, but he wasn't 100% sure that they would.

It was a pretty impressive place and he was sure that the Shaws would want to move in if they knew about it. At the very least, they would probably want to take all the antique furniture that was undoubtedly in there.

Deciding to just get on with it, he grabbed the doorknob and tried to turn it. It didn't budge, but it did prick his palm to taste his blood. With a brief shimmer, the doors swung open.

Smiling with mixed relief and eagerness, Harry wandered into the manor, turning his head in every direction in an attempt to take in the foyer. It was a bit on the ostentatious side for his taste, but it was his.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" He called. He knew there wouldn't be any people, but there might be portraits or house elves.

A tiny blur barreling into his legs nearly caused him to lash out with an instinctive burst of wandless magic, restrained at the last moment.

"Master Potter sir!" The house elf wailed in an unpleasantly high female pitch. "You's finally came! Teeny was waiting for so long!"

Harry smiled awkwardly and patted her head as the little house elf continued to blubber against his leg. What do you say to calm down a hysterical house elf?"

"Umm, sorry?" He ventured.

Teeny's horrified gasp let him know that it may not have been the right thing to say.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fortunately, calming Teeny down didn't take too much effort once the initial hysteria was out of the way. The small house elf had all but demanded to be bonded to him immediately after that. Harry was still a bit iffy on the subject of having a thinking creature bound to him in lifelong servitude, but Teeny's wobbling lower lip and watering eyes every time he stalled eventually wore down his resistance and he gave in.

She'd gone into a cooking frenzy after that, determined to feed him the best meal he'd ever had and Harry didn't have the heart to tell her that he'd already eaten.

While Teeny cooked, Harry decided to explore the manor, wondering if he might find portraits of any relatives. He knew that they were just imprints of people, but it would still be nice to talk to them.

As it turned out, he found them.

"Hello?" He called to the sleeping portraits of a man and woman in what he guessed were their late middle ages, though it was hard to be sure with wizards and witches.

They woke up, looking momentarily confused but quickly focused on him.

"Hello, are you our grandson?" The dignified looking woman asked hopefully.

"I'm Harry." He replied simply.

"James and Lily's boy." The older man with typically messy Potter hair and glasses said, delight in his tone. "You are our grandson. We're Charlus and Dorea Potter, your father's parents."

"Can you tell me about them?" Harry asked. He hadn't been willing to ask this of the Hogwarts professors, but faced with the portraits of his grandparents, he could finally do so.

"Oh, I suppose that means that they weren't able to hide from Voldemort then." Dorea said sorrowfully. "I knew that they shouldn't have trusted Dumbledore."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked warily. He had thought that the old headmaster was a bit strange but trustworthy enough.

"My wife has never had a very high opinion of Dumbledore." Charlus answered.

"Don't sugarcoat it, Charlus." Dorea scoffed. "I wouldn't trust that old manipulator as far as I could throw him."

"Yes well, though my own opinion of the man isn't as bad as my wife's, I would urge you to keep in mind that Dumbledore didn't get to where he is now without being more than a bit ruthless." Charlus added.

Harry nodded slowly. The headmaster had a disarming personality and projected the image of a kindly, wise old wizard well, but Charlus had a point. Dumbledore couldn't have become the most powerful wizard and most prominent politician in all of Europe just by being nice. He would have to keep that in mind in the future.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, the meal Teeny had prepared was eaten and the conversation with the portraits of his grandparents had tapered off. Harry hadn't seen much of the manor by that point and decided to explore it further.

It was nothing spectacular for the most part, just a lot of bedrooms, bathrooms and miscellaneous other things that held no interest for him, but a few things did stand out.

The first was the library. It wasn't as massive as the one in Hogwarts and he spotted a lot of the same texts, but there were a few that looked to be unique to the Potter family.

The second was deep in the basement. It seemed like nothing more than a bare stone room, if not for a few things. The location and thick walls would be enough to mark it as a room used for rituals, but what truly clinched it was the box containing an ornate knife in front of it.

It was a pretty thing with a slightly curved silver blade and a gold enameled hilt. A good sized ruby was set at the end of the hilt, glinting in the low light.

Harry was exceptionally pleased to have found such a knife. Rituals could technically be done with any kind of blade, but specialized ritual blades were known to have superior results.

He was eager to get started on this. He had been secretly planning out a ritual ever since he'd started learning about them after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ever since that first conversation with professor Babbling, Harry had been thinking of ways to apply runes to himself as a means of bolstering his physical and magical power.

After getting told that tattoos wouldn't work, he had begun considering more...extreme...measures.

The discussions with professor Vector had helped him calculate what would work and what wouldn't.

Wizard raised children came into Hogwarts with a lot of advantages, but if there was one thing that a muggle upbringing had going for it, it was the years spent in primary school.

Arithmancy wasn't the same as mathemathics, but it was close enough that there was quite a bit of overlap.

A lot of the things he'd wanted to figure out were beyond Harry, even if he'd been working on Arithmancy in his free time, but he had found a workaround for that too.

The internet was full of mathemathicians that would solve any interesting looking problem on a lark. All Harry had needed to do was post his problem on a forum and wait for a reply. As long as he changed the names of some of the variables and took out the bits that would make no sense without magic being involved, he was almost guaranteed to receive an answer that would work for him. It took some effort to dance around the issue of magic, but it could be done.

This kind of cheating workaround had told him that merely using any old knife to carve runes into his flesh wouldn't have enough power behind it. He would either need a specially made ritual knife that was designed to channel magic, or he would need to literally brand the runes into his skin with a red hot branding iron. That was the only sacrifice he could think of that was great enough to make the runes work in the way he wanted them to without a proper knife.

Harry was naturally relieved to have found the ritual knife. He felt enough trepidation at the thought of carving the runes into his skin with a knife that he was not at all certain that he would be able to go through with a branding.

He'd already told Teeny that she was not to come into the ritual chamber for any reason – no matter what she felt or heard – until he called her. Rituals were delicate things and having any extra thinking minds present was always a bad idea.

Now all that was left to do was to actually step into the circle and start the ritual, which was proving to be much harder than he expected.

It was all well and good to plan this thing out, but now that he'd come to the point where he would have seven runes carved into his back by a magically floating knife, he was discovering that much of his courage had deserted him.

He'd expected that this might be the case, which was why the ritual was set up in such a way that it could not be stopped once it was started. Ironically, this made it even harder to make the first step.

It had to be this way though. He couldn't afford to chicken out midway. The rune set was made to work together and carving only part of it would likely be disastrous for him.

He just had to step into the circle and get started.

Any day now.

Yep.

Harry let out a gusty sigh, closed his eyes and stepped into it with a sense of determined resignation. If he hadn't heard of that bloody prophecy, he might have put this off until he was older. He might even have decided that the price wasn't worth the payout.

But now he knew that he had a not-quite-dead Dark Lord after his hide and he strongly doubted that the tosser would be considerate enough to wait until Harry was ready for him. He wanted to live and he was sure that he could endure a little pain now if it helped him survive later. Standing naked in a cold stone room and staring aprehensively at the inert ritual knife wouldn't do him any good.

Besides, this particular ritual would have more to work with if it was done before puberty kicked in properly.

With another sigh to calm down his nerves, he knelt into the center of the ritual circle, naked as the day he was born.

"Raido." He said, focusing on the rune even as he felt the petrification effect worked into the ritual kick in.

Ritual. Journey. Freedom from imprisonment. Self-mastery.

The rune would mark the start of his ritual, as well as symbolize that the runes would continue to influence him as he grew, making him more than he would have been without them. It symbolized that he was willfully changing his body in ways that people normally can't release him from the constraints of normal growth.

The knife started carving the blocky 'R' shaped rune into the base of his neck and the only thing that stopped Harry from screaming was the petrification. He did his absolute best to stay focused on the meaning of the rune and hoped it would work as intended.

When it was over, Harry took a few minutes to get his breath back and blink the tears out of his eyes. It had been worse than he'd expected and he was doubly glad that he had a proper ritual knife. If getting cut was this bad, then a branding would have been unbearable.

He could feel it working though. He could feel his magic flowing into the rune, exploring the new channel and almost eagerly waiting for the next one, as if it knew that it wasn't over yet.

When he felt ready, he spoke the next one.

"Gebo."

Trade. Sacrifice. Balance. Exchanged powers. Magical exchange.

A rune to symbolize the sacrifice he was making in exchange for the benefits he wanted. Blood, pain and the permanent scarring of his flesh in exchange for the power of the runes. It looked like an 'X' and it was carved under Raido, along his spine.

"Inguz."

Internal growth. Personal development. Gestation process. Male sexuality.

This rune was basically focused on speeding his maturation. He wanted to grow faster, both because adulthood meant freedom and because he did not want to be a child when Voldemort eventually clawed his way back to life. It was represented by a tilted square.

"Uruz."

Life force, Physical health. Healing. Vital formative force. Stamina. Vitality. Virility. Vigor. Endurance. Raw primal power.

A rune meant to increase the potency of his body, granting greater physical strength and endurance as well as speeding up natural healing. It was a simple looking rune, merely two lines connected by a third at the top, with the second one being shorter to make the whole rune a bit slanted.

"Thurisaz."

Giant. Active defensive force. Regenerative catalyst. Reactive and directed force.

Another rune to increase his endurance and durability, channel magic to his muscles and bones, make him more resistant to injury, and to further speed the healing properties of Uruz. It looked like an angular 'P', but with the protruding part written in the middle instead of on top.

"Hagalaz."

Disruption. Change according to ideals. Power beyond human ability to harness. Perfect pattern.

A rune that signified that what he wanted was a body stronger than should be naturally his. A rune that was intended to direct the other runes into the purpose of improving him. It looked very much like an 'H', except for the middle line having a downward slant.

"Wunjo."

Harmony of like forces. Bonding. Shared aims. Optimism. Prosperity.

The final rune in the set, made to bind them all together into a unified beneficial purpose instead of having each of them working independently. It looked like an angular 'P'.

The ritual complete, Harry collapsed forward and gulped down deep breaths of air as he waited for the burning pain across the length of his spine to subside. He could feel his magic moving towards the newly carved runes, leaving him even more drained than the pain had already done.

And then he suddenly became aware of just how incredibly hungry he was.

"Teeny." He croaked.

The house elf appeared and immediately cried in dismay at seeing his bloodied back.

"Teeny, I need food. A lot of it." Harry went on, ignoring her panic. He could barely think about anything save for the emptiness of his stomach right now.

Glad to have a direction, Teeny apparated him into the kitchen, set a bowl of fruit in front of him and started cooking up a storm.

Harry ate four apples, six bananas, two oranges and still felt hungry. The runes on his back continued to siphon away his strength without pause, slowly transforming from open wounds into scars.

Teeny noticed that he'd run out of food and put a bowl of salad in front of him. It was meant to come after the soup, but she couldn't bear to make him wait when he was obviously starving.

It was good to be needed again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry's appetite eventually calmed down and he asked Teeny to apparate him back to his foster parents. He'd been gone for the whole day this time and he didn't want them to be anymore pissy than strictly necessary.

"Harry, is that you?" Katherine's voice came from a bathroom while he was on the way to his room.

"Yes, it's me." He called back without stopping, wanting to do nothing more than fall asleep.

"Robert and I got an invitation to the opera while you were gone, so you'll have the house to yourself."

Harry thanked whichever deity had decided to be merciful today. The opera was one of those things that they left him behind for, probably thinking that it would make them look bad to drag a kid along for something like that.

"Great, have fun." He said back, managing to actually sound sincere. Whoever had invited them must be relatively important if she wasn't even bothering to ask where he'd been all day.

Katherine chose that moment to step out of the bathroom.

"How do I look?" She asked, making little turns so that he could see more of her.

She did this sometimes, fishing for compliments from a child like the self-obsessed bint that she was. Harry had always given her the expected empty compliment that he didn't really mean.

She did genuinely look good though. At thirty two years old, she was still pretty young and her healthy diet and frequent exercise kept her looking beautiful. Combined with the hours she'd no doubt spent in front of a mirror and the tight black dress she was wearing, she was nothing short of stunning.

As Harry noticed this, he felt the blood rush between his legs and a strange squirming sensation started up in his lower abdomen. His body heated up and he felt his eyes getting pulled to her legs and breasts. The runes on his back prickled. His hands twitched with the sudden desire to feel if her arse was as tight as it looked.

A wave of horror made his face go white as he realized what he was thinking.

"You look great." He managed to force out. "Excuse me, I have something I need to do."

He fled to his room before she could do more than look confused by his strange behavior.

As soon as he was in his room and safely away from a woman three times his age that he suddenly found inexplicably sexy, he buried his head into a pillow and screamed in frustration at his own stupidity.

He was a moron. A bloody colossal moron the likes of which the world had never seen.

The runes had more meanings than the ones he'd focused on during the ritual. Professor Babbling had warned him that these types of runes could have unexpected effects.

Uruz also meant uncontrolled rage, misdirected force and brutality. Thurisaz also meant aggressive male sexuality and male sexual prowess.

And those were just two runes. He knew that the others meant a whole host of other things that were no doubt contributing to his suddenly inflammed hormones, though those two were definitely the worst. He'd wanted to speed up his maturation and that's what he was getting, but he was also having all the effects of puberty supercharged to completely stupid levels.

This was not good. In fact, he would go so far as to call it bad.

There was no way he'd be able to function like a normal human being in Hogwarts if this started happening every time he saw a pretty girl. And what if something made him angry? Would he even be able to control himself?

Maybe, just maybe, the Ministry restrictions weren't all because they were a bunch of weak willed weenies too scared of magic to use it to the fullest.

Another realization interrupted his cursing streak. He had to hide the runes or he'd be in deep shit if someone saw them. He was nowhere near ready to openly challenge the Ministry on this.

The only way that he knew how to hide them in any kind of practical manner was with another ritual.

"Shite."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"We warned you that it wasn't a good idea." Charlus was saying, sounding far too smug for a painting.

"It'll be fine as long as I can control it." Harry defended. Despite the unexpected side effects, he still thought that the ritual was an overall success.

"Can you control it?" Dorea asked pointedly.

"....maybe." Harry said after a long moment. "I've already prepared another ritual that should work to improve my memory and willpower, as well as hiding my mind and runes."

"Harry, your first rune set was focused strictly on your body. Do you really think it's wise to use runes that affect your mind?" Charlus asked with some exasperation.

Harry swallowed. No, he did not think it was wise, but he didn't have much choice. He couldn't allow his mind to remain an open book for a skilled enough legilimancer. He couldn't allow his runes to stay visible. He couldn't allow the new impulses of his body to have this much power over him.

The first rune set remained a constant drain on his magic and continued to give him a voracious appetite, which he knew would be the case until he stopped growing. Fortunately, the drain was not so severe that it would kill him, but a portion of his magic would be constantly shunted towards improving his growth and thus be unusable for spells.

"It'll be fine. I'm using less volatile runes this time and only three of them instead of seven." He said with more confidence than he honestly felt.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After coming home for the summer, Harry had reserached how much correlation there was between muggle and wizarding knowledge of Norse runes.

To his surprise, it was identical.

This had emboldened him with the idea to use symbols that were completely foreign to the knowledge of British wizards.

He had always intended to hide his mind with a rune, and his original idea had been to use the Japanese kanji for Void to do it.

After what had happened with his first rune set, he'd decided that something else would probably be better. He was just a bit nervous about the possibility of turning himself into a mindless vegetable if he carved Void into his forehead.

In the end he had decided to use a completely fictional set of runes. Professor Babbling had warned him about making up random squiggles and assigning them meaning himself, but he wasn't making these up himself.

Just because these runes happened to belong to the Avariel, a fictional race of winged elves from the Forgotten Realms, it didn't make them meaningless.

Theoretically.

"Da'Roir."

Remembrance. Memory. The Strength of Stones.

A rune that looked like a par of stylized mirrored J's with a another stylized bar connecting them just beneath the top. It would improve his memory and bolster his willpower to be as immovable as rock.

The ritual knife carved the rune into the back of his head, scraping across his skull as it cut through hair and flesh.

When it was finished and his magic flowed into the new rune, he felt a burst of memory.

A thin and pale abomination of a man with red eyes. His mother begging for his life, offering hers in exchange. The specifics written in her own blood and hidden under the carpet. Her life for his, willingly given. The greatest sacrifice.The green flash of a killing curse. Voldemort destroyed in the backlash as he tried to violate the blood contract that he had unknowingly agreed to when he killed his mother.

Harry gasped for air as the short but intense memory played out. Tears gathered in his eyes that had nothing to do with the pain throbbing in the back of his head. He could remember his mother, he knew her voice and face. Knew that she had given everything to protect him.

A few more hazy memories came from the fog of infancy.

His father, a messy haired man with glasses. More carefree than his mother but with the same faintly grim air about him.

Another, more playful man with a barking laugh that sometimes transformed into a big black dog the way that McGonagall could transform into a cat and let him ride on his back. Sirius.

A very short man with grubby skin and watery eyes. Peter.

Sirius finding him in the wreckage, giving him to Hagrid. The half-giant delivering him to Dumbledore and Dumbledore in turn dropping him off on the Dursleys doorstep. Petunia's attempts to treat him like family but her demeanor steadily souring as he continued to display accidental magic.

It took him nearly an hour to calm his emotions enough to continue the ritual.

"Arhain."

Stealth. Secrets. Shadows. The Dark of Night.

A stylized cross, with the horizontal line curling in opposing directions at both ends. Carved just under his right collarbone.

A rune to hide his other runes, showing others only the unmarked flesh they expected to see, lightning bolt scar not included. The same effect as an exceptionally powerful Notice-Me-Not charm that could not be dispelled or pierced without his permission.

"Aul'El."

That Which Cannot be Known or Comprehended.

It looked like a stylized letter 'A', but with the connecting line looping back on the left side. The last rune in the set of three, carved into the middle of his forehead.

It would not build barriers around his mind in the way of Occlumency. Rather, it would make it utterly impossible for anyone but him to understand his thoughts and memories. Any legilimancer that tried to invade his mind would gain nothing but confusion.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry settled into his seat on the Hogwarts Express and pulled a book from his Bag of Holding.

He expected that his second year at Hogwarts would be more eventful than his first. There was the unknown plot that Dobby had warned him off, as well as his continued study of magic.

Perhaps the most difficult thing would be his attempts to make a friend. He honestly had no idea how to go about doing that. Initiating social contact was most definitely not one of his strengths. Perhaps his housemates will have forgotten some of his admittedly rude responses to their initial attempts to talk to him and try again? One could only hope.

After a lot of thinking, he could admit to himself that he may have...overreacted a bit to their fixation on his fame. Most of them had no doubt been brought up hearing ridiculous stories about the Boy-Who-Lived. It wasn't their fault that their parents had no sense of objectivity and kept filling their heads with nonsense. He would have to try not to be so snappish this year if it happened again.

He wondered how his runes would affect his temper. He hadn't had the opportunity to find out just yet.

The powerful surges of desire every time he saw a pretty woman still occured, but he'd learned to control the effects to some extent, or at least conceal them.

He never tought he'd be glad for the silly tailoring of the Hogwarts robes, but he was. They did a far better job of hiding erections than just pants. If not for the robes, he was quite sure that he would have died of embarrassment in his Astronomy classes. Professor Sinistra would have inevitably noticed his persistent little issue, as she often had to get quite close to students to help adjust their telescopes and she was a beautiful woman.

Still, for all the grief that his rune enhanced hormones promised to give him, he was happy with the results. He'd already heard some comments about how he was growing like a weed and it had been barely over a month since the ritual. For a boy who had always been on the short side, that was well worth the discomfort.

He'd wanted to do some more rituals, but he had to bow to the wisdom of his grandparents(or that of their portraits at any rate) and the mothering of Teeny. Overdoing it was probably not a good idea. For all his initial aprehension about going through with it, he now found himself almost eager to do another. Yes, it was painful. Very painful even. But the pain soon faded into memory and the runes stayed forever.

Well, there would be plenty of downtime from rituals while he was at Hogwarts. He somehow doubted that the staff would look the other way if they learned that a student was practicing ritualistic self-scarrification. Too many eyes at the school to risk it.

No matter though, there were plenty of other things to learn.

Unfortunately, he was almost sure that DADA would continue to be a disappointment. He'd been initially excited to hear that a hero of sorts had taken the post, but that excitement had guttered out when he'd skimmed over the books that the man had assigned.

For one thing, every single one of them read like a novel rather than an instructional text. Even worse, they were filled with nonsense and completely pointless information. The man claimed to have briefly fought a werewolf barehanded in one of those books for example.

Now, Harry didn't know too much about what a real werewolf was like, but if they bore the slightest resemblance to the werewolves of muggle fiction, then trying to fight them up close and unarmed for any length of time was a great way to die messily. You'd need to be a real mountain of a man in thick armor and a nice big sword to survive a melee fight with the beasts. Judging by the picture he'd seen of Gilderoy Lockhart, he was....not.

He could be wrong of course, because he as previously noted didn't know much about what real werewolves were like. They could be pushovers for all he knew.

He rather doubted it though.

The door to the cabin opened, revealing a blonde girl with big blue eyes.

"Hello." She said dreamily, stepped inside and took a seat.

"Hello." Harry replied, too bemused by the bold entrance to be annoyed. Well, she hadn't stopped to gawk at his scar, so he would call it a win.

"I'm Luna Lovegood." She introduced herself in the same dreamy tone.

"Harry Potter." He returned, feeling absurdly pleased when she didn't really react to the name.

"Are we going to be friends? Daddy told me I would make friends."

That was easy. Harry thought to himself in muted shock. He'd spent half the summer debating with himself if trying to make friends with someone was worth the initial awkwardness, only for this rather spacey looking girl to just go ahead and ask him like it was nothing.

"Errr, sure?" He answered uncertainly. There was definitely something a bit off about this girl.

"Are you okay?" Luna asked with a suddenly concerned tone. "You sound like you have wrackspurts."

"What's a wrackspurt?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

"They're invisible creatures that float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy." She informed him with authority.

"But if they're invisible, then how can you see them?" Harry asked sceptically.

"You don't see them silly, that's what invisible means." Luna chided, making Harry blink at her logic.

"Then how do you know that they're there?"

"You have to feel them." She explained.

"And what do they feel like?" He pressed, now determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Like fuzzy brains and jumbled thoughts."

Harry opened his mouth to ask another question and then closed it as a sudden realization hit him.

"These wrackspurts.....they wouldn't happen to cause confusion would they?"

"They very well might." Luna agreed.

"So you were basically just asking me if I was confused earlier?"

"No, I was wondering if you had wrackspurts."

Harry gaped at her for a moment, wondering if he was being mocked. That dreamy expression of hers made for a surprisingly good poker face.

"Oh, the wrackspurts are back!"

He couldn't help cracking a smile at that. Well, he'd avoided contact with the normal people, so he supposed it was only natural that he'd end up making friends with the oddball.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The two continued to chat until the train started moving. Harry discovered that Luna was surprisingly easy to talk despite the occasional off color comment she made. He already liked her more than anyone he'd met in the Wizarding World so far.

Their interesting and sometimes strange conversation was interrupted by the cabin door opening again, this time revealing a redheaded girl with freckles that had a distinctly Weasley look to her.

"H-hi." She said shyly, her pale face steadily moving to match her hair in color. "Can I, um, sit here?"

"Hello Ginny." Luna said in the same vaguely dreamy tone that seemed to be her normal speaking voice.

"You two know each other?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.

"We used to be friends." Luna elaborated, causing Ginny to shuffle in place guiltily.

"Come in then, I guess." Harry said, not sure if it was a good idea but also not wanting to tell her to go away since Luna didn't seem to mind.

Ginny quickly did so, sitting in a corner and looking as if she was trying to mimic the powers of a chameleon.

"I'm Harry Potter." Harry introduced himself.

"I know!" Ginny blurted out and immediately flushed scarlet. "I mean, I'm Ginny. Ginny Weasley."

Harry tried not to get too annoyed by her behavior and returned to his conversation with Luna. Ginny was mostly silent and just did a lot of glancing and blushing.

She was also very jealous of her former friend for the easy conversation she had with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Her mother had told her that Harry Potter hadn't made any friends at Hogwarts the previous year and that it would be nice of her if she could become one for the obviously lonely boy.

Her mother's words had been like a dream come true for Ginny, who had grown up on stories of the Boy-Who-Lived. Becoming his friend would be amazing.

And now here she was, in the same cabin with him as they rode to Hogwarts, and she was barely able to get a few words out. She wanted to talk to him too, but she'd already embarrassed herself so much and didn't want to make it any worse.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Hanging around with Weasleys again, Potter? The girl might at least be useful as breeding stock, I suppose." Malfoy sneered as he opened the door about an hour later.

Harry felt a surge of potent anger the like of which he hadn't felt in years. The runes on his back prickled, Uruz in particular.

Without really thinking too much, he stood up and shoved the mouthy blond with as much force as he could muster.

Malfoy went sprawling into a painful heap with his two juvenile guard trolls, shouting something about his father hearing of this.

Harry wasn't listening though. It was with monumental effort that he managed to resist the urge to launch a kick or two at the trio of downed idiots. He slammed the cabin door shut instead, drew his wand and put a locking charm on it.

"T-thanks." Ginny said quietly, a shy but dazzling smile on her face. The Boy-Who-Lived had protected her honor, just like in the stories!

Harry simply nodded and sat down. He hadn't done it for her. He didn't know her well enough to really be outraged on her behalf aside from the reaction that any decent person would have to unwarranted insults.

Now that he'd cooled down a bit, he could think about what had happened logically and knew that he'd overreacted. He somehow doubted that Malfoy even properly understood what he'd said. In a society without internet access, twelve year olds generally did not learn enough about the birds and the bees to understand the concept of 'breeding stock'. It was possible that the boy's parents had taught him about it, but more than likely he was simply repeating what his father or mother had said and assuming that it was an insult.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry stared in fascination at the skeletal winged horses harnessed to the carriages that would take them to the castle. He didn't recall seeing those the previous year, though he had admittedly not paid much attention in this direction either.

"Do you know what those horses are?" He asked of a passing Su Li, hoping that the girl knew something he didn't. He wished Luna was here. Strange creatures seemed to be a specialty of hers.

"What horses?" She questioned back, puzzled.

"They're called thestrals, you can only see them if you've seen someone die." A passing upper year Hufflepuff told them, giving Harry a look of sympathy as he did so.

Harry might have been a bit irritated by that look if his memory didn't flash back to the death of his mother at the words. Perhaps unlocking that old memory was allowing him to see them now?

What a strangely specific form of invisibility.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Weasley, Ginevra!"

Ginny hurried over to the stool with the Sorting Hat and put on the ancient magical headwear, eager to get sorted. She could already see Luna and Harry sitting together at the Ravenclaw table and desperately wanted to join them.

Ravenclaw eh? You are much better suited to Gryffindor. The hat said.

But I want to be with Harry. Ginny thought back stubbornly. Her mother had asked her to become his friend and that would be much easier if she was in the same house. She may not have said much to him yet, but she liked what she'd seen of him so far and he had defended her from that prat Malfoy and his insults.

The hat tried to dissuade her a few more times, but Ginny was stubborn and insisted on going to Ravenclaw.

A little known thing about the Sorting Hat was that it didn't so much sort as it helped to guide the children to the house that fit them best. Most children had little opinion on where they wanted to go, but some of them did and went against the recommendations it gave.

Hermione Granger should have gone to Ravenclaw, but her idolization of Dumbledore had her insisting on Gryffindor despite the advice of the Sorting hat.

In an ironic twist, Ginny did the opposite.

"RAVENCLAW!"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Over at the Gryffindor table, four Weasleys stared with slack jaws as their little sister went to the table of blue and bronze. They knew that their firecracker of a sister was not nearly bookish enough to go to Ravenclaw. If there had ever been a Gryffindor Weasley, it was Ginny, so it took no effort to assume that Harry Potter was somehow the cause of the strange sorting given that she immediately sat down next to him.

It didn't mean much to Percy, who merely sniffed at the break in the Weasley tradition of being sorted into Gryffindor.

Fred and George hadn't really paid much attention to Harry Potter so far, but his association with their favorite little sister merited a stern talk about his intentions with ickle Gin-Gin. And a great deal of teasing. And possibly pranks, but that was par for the course.

Ron was the most confused of the lot, as this event did not at all compute with his view of the world. Weasleys went to Gryffindor, that was simply the way of things. How could Ginny be a Ravenclaw?

The time since Halloween and Hermione's death had been hard on Ron. He knew that he shared at least partial responsibility for the death of his housemate.

In truth, he had barely scraped through first year. His usual lack of academic ability coupled with the guilt he'd been feeling causing his normally poor grades to plummet to terrible. It took the help of all three of his older brothers to get his grades to the point where he didn't need to repeat his first year.

His mother had not been happy, but had also tried not to be too harsh with him, knowing the cause of his poor performance. Some of it at least.

He'd mostly managed to put Hermione's death behind him, but he was much more careful with his words now.

He would go talk to Ginny later.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Albus Dumbledore had merely blinked at the unexpected sorting. A Weasley in Ravenclaw? How novel.

Then he saw Harry Potter sitting next to young Ginny and Luna Lovegood and actually talking to someone his age!

He smiled. It may not be exactly what he'd planned when he'd spoken to Molly earlier in the summer, but plans could sometimes go awry in good ways too.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry did his best to ignore the discomfort caused by the odd looks he was getting from the other Ravenclaws. No doubt they were wondering about his abnormal friendliness with Luna.

Well, Ginny was here too he supposed.

He would honestly have preferred if she had gone to Gryffindor like her brothers. The constant blushing and shy glances she'd been giving him the entire train ride had made for a rather awkward experience.

Only the memory of his resolution not to judge as quickly as he had with Hermione stopped him from alienating her right off the bat. The obvious crush she had on him was more than a little annoying and was not returned in the slightest. He had enough problems keeping his eyes off the prettier upper year girls without having to deal with this too.

Luna was a godsend in that regard, her quirky conversation style keeping him well distracted from wondering about the kind of bodies those unflattering robes were hiding. Mostly.

Well, he'd give Ginny a chance to grow out of this rather than pushing her away immediately. Who knows, she might actually find that she didn't like the real him too much.

Chapter Text

The Weasley twins made a beeline for the Ravenclaw table, where they could see Harry and Luna eating breakfast. Apparently, getting sorted into the house of ravens had not made Ginny a morning person.

"Greetings."

"Salutations."

"Good morning."

"Hello."

"I don't believe we've been introduced."

"I'm Fred-"

"-handsome fellow isn't he? And I'm George."

"Together we are the amazing,"

"the stupendous,"

"the incadescent-"

"-since when do you know that word, my brother?"

"Since yesterday, and now you've ruined the flow."

"Oh no!"

"Anyway, we are.....The Weasley Twins!"

Harry looked at them blandly over the mountain of food piled on his plate, not entirely sure what to make of this introduction.

"Hi." He said and went back to stuffing his face. He always woke up with a monster appetite these days.

"I say, I don't think even ickle Ronniekins can eat that much."

"And he can eat a lot indeed."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day." Harry justified, despite having been one of those people who didn't eat much in the mornings before the runes. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Indeed you can."

"You see Harry, we are fairly certain that Ginny only went to Ravenclaw because of you."

"In light of this, we would like to know-"

"-what your intentions are towards our little sister." They twins finished in unison, grinning down at him evilly.

"Intentions?" Harry echoed. He understood their meaning perfectly well, but he was friggin' twelve and Ginny was eleven. Sure, he had apparently done a number on his puberty with that ritual, but they didn't know that. Moreover, his hormones seemed to be targeting the more developed girls exclusively, for which he was thankful. It meant that he would only have trouble keeping his eyes from wandering during mealtimes, free periods and such and not during classes, with the notable exception of professor Sinistra.

Luna, who had thus far contented herself with silently making the perfect jam spread on her bread, decided to enlighten her friend.

"They want to know if you're going to put your penis in Ginny's vagina." She said serenely, bringing her bread to eye level to make sure that the jam was perfect.

Harry spat out the half-masticated morsel of food currently in his mouth, coughing violently as his body protested him nearly sending solids into his lungs.

Though shocked as badly as Harry by Luna's words, the Weasley twins had the advantage of not eating at the time and were able to recover faster.

"Aren't you a bit young to know about that?" Fred asked, somewhat hypocritically it must be said. Although they hadn't truthfully expected Harry to catch on to their insinuation and were just going to tease him.

"I watched daddy put his penis in mummy's vagina, and in her mouth, and her bum. It looked fun and I asked if I could play too, but mummy explained that it was a grown-up game and that I would know when I was old enough to play. I wanted to be good at it, so I started reading mummy's books and peeping on them when they played." Luna explained with a dreamy smile, taking a rapturous bite of her perfectly prepared slice of bread.

The three males present exchanged akward looks as the silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive with only the sound of Luna's chewing to break it. Well, that and the general noise of people having breakfast in the Great Hall. The twins were in fourth year now and old enough to understand how utterly strange Luna's statement was, while Harry's internet exposure took care of any ignorance on his part. In fact, the only one who seemed oblivious to the reality of the situation was Luna herself.

"We've got a, uh..."

"....a prank!"

"Yes! A prank to plan."

"Talk to you later Harrykins."

"Yes, much later."

"It sure was nice of the twins to come and introduce themselves to you like that." Luna commented.

"Uh...yeah." Harry replied weakly, having the dual problem of feeling incredibly awkward and pointlessly aroused by the imagery that Luna's words had brought to mind. He recalled thinking yesterday that Luna was a great distraction from his out of control hormones, but now he was wondering if she wasn't going to make it worse.

His meal was once again interrupted when he saw a smaller-than-average first year Gryffindor coming at him with a big smile and a very antique looking camera.

"Hi Harry! I'm-I'm Colin Creevey." The boy said breathlessly, edging closer tentatively. "I'm in Gryffindor. Would you...would it be alright if I....can I take a picture?" He finally managed, raising the camera hopefully.

"No, It wouldn't be alright." Harry replied irritably, feeling his runes prickling.

"Please." Colin begged. "It's to prove that I've met you. I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" He stared unabashedly at Harry's scar when he said this. "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move!" Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and continued on. "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you." He looked imploringly at Harry. "Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

Harry's blood pressure had steadily been rising as the younger boy continued his unsolicited word vomit. Intellectually, he knew that Colin was just excited about magic and probably had a thing for photography. He was in all likelihood just out to get a picture of the famous Harry Potter that he'd read about so that he could brag to his parents.

Harry was far too busy trying to control the suddenl swell of disproportionate rage that the pushy and inconsiderate brat had inspired in him to think of that though. Where did the annoying little shit get off asking for photos?! And to sign them too?! Even worse, Colin had raised his voice in his desperate plea to get Harry to reconsider and attracted a lot of attention, which he had never been comfortable with and was now serving to make him even more angry.

When Colin was done talking he looked back at Harry's eyes and blanched at the furious glare being directed at him. He was about to stutter out an apology and vacate the area when a third party decided to make it worse.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?" Malfoy asked scathingly, being deliberately loud enough for the entire Great Hall to hear. "Everyone line up! Harry Potter is giving out signed photos!"

Colin was by this point wishing that he'd never approached his hero, or at least that he'd done it somewhere more private. He knew that this situation was his fault, so he tried to help.

"You're just jealous."

Eleven year olds did not generally make good problem solvers, alas.

"Jealous?" Malfoy sneered. "Why would I be jealous of an ugly scar across my-AAAH!"

Malfoy's scathing retort turned into a scream as Harry's self-control snapped and he hurled a heavy golden goblet at the blond's face, nearly breaking his nose.

The scream snapped Harry out of the angry fog, but he knew that it wasn't gone yet. He pushed away from the table and shouldered past a stunned Colin, barely noticing as he nearly knocked the smaller boy to the ground.

"Harry!" an deeper, adult voice called loudly in what was probably supposed to be a friendly tone, a hand clamping down on his shoulder.

The plates of food trembled, some of them having their contents inexplicably explode.

"You can't just-AAAAH!"

Whatever advice Gilderoy Lockhart had been about to impart would forever remain unheard as the action renewed Harry's fury and caused him to stab a fork into the man's hand. He hadn't even registered that he was still clutching a fork.

The entire Great Hall watched in stunned silence as the Boy-Who-Lived stomped out, rage written in every movement.

"Oh dear, he blew up my jam." Luna pouted, wiping a bit of the raspberry mess from her face and leaving the table. If there was no more jam to be had, then she might as well go help her friend calm down.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry hadn't gone very far, only to the first empty hallway.

He was leaning on the wall and taking deep breaths, trying to ignore the incessant prickling of his runes, when Luna found him.

The sight of her with raspberry jam splattered all over her face put a crack in his anger and he couldn't help laughing at her pout.

"You blew it all over my face Harry." She chided. "It was supposed to go in my mouth."

Harry continued to laugh breathlessly as his anger drained away, wondering if Luna was deliberately using innuendo or if she was honestly clueless.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry had no illusions that he would be getting away with what he'd done scot free, so the summons by Dumbledore came as no surprise.

"I hope you realize that your actions in the Great Hall today were unacceptable, Harry." The headmaster said gravely, staring into the boy's green eyes.

He attempted a brief touch of legilimency, but received only a confusing kaleidoscope of impressions that made no sense to him. It was remarkably similar to what a person experienced if they ever found themselves in a fidelius protected location without knowing the secret. What had happened to the boy over the summer to change his mind in this way? How did he even function?

Harry felt Aul'El prickle on his forehead and saw the flicker of confusion on Dumbledore's face. He had to quickly clamp down on the surge of anger it made him feel. He'd already suspected that the headmaster made a habit of reading minds when he could get away with it. It made the advice of his grandparents all the more relevant. Dumbledore was not to be trusted.

"Yes sir." He answered.

He was finding it hard to regret what he'd done to Malfoy and Lockhart, but he knew that he couldn't keep throwing goblets or stabbing with forks every time he got angry. He had to find a way to control himself. Da'Roir would obviously only do so much to help him in that regard. In fact, it was doing less than he had hoped. His memory was much improved, but his emotions were far from under control.

Occlumency was supposed to help with controlling one's emotions, so maybe it was time to start learning that? He'd neglected to try it so far because the book said that it took a long time and using a rune seemed so much easier.

"Good," Dumbledore said with a nod, deciding not to mention the multitude of points that Ravenclaw had lost over this incident since he knew that the boy didn't care about the house cup. "then you will not object to having detention with Filch for a week or to making a public apology to Mr. Malfoy and professor Lockhart."

Harry's face twisted in anger. The detention he'd expected and wasn't going to object to even if it would cut into his personal time, but publically apologizing to those two blowhards?

"Are they going to apologize to me?" He asked back.

Dumbledore blinked at the cold tone, wondering where all this anger was coming from. Harry hadn't been nearly this difficult the previous year.

"Whatever for, Harry? You were the one who assaulted them."

"I didn't do it for fun." Harry retorted sarcastically. "Malfoy was deliberately provoking me and Lockhart grabbed me."

"Surely you realize that you cannot attack fellow students over schoolyard teasing, or attack a professor simply for placing his hand on your shoulder?" Dumbledore asked pointedly.

Harry did know that, but that didn't mean that he was going to apologize for it. "I'm not going to apologize for attacking them if they don't apologize for what they did."

"Harry, I thought you were more mature than this." Dumbledore rebuked, his entire manner radiating disappointment.

"It's hard to be mature when you're dealing with idiots." Harry retorted, not caring one whit about the old man's disappointment at this point. "Either everyone apologizes, or nobody does."

Harry knew – in a distant sort of way – that he was being more than a bit unreasonable here. Though Draco was undeniably a tragic waste of air, he hadn't done anything worse than countless other children who thought that getting someone else in trouble was fun. Certainly nothing to deserve getting a metal goblet to the face. Lockhart was a similar case, except that in his case it was a fork stabbing. He could only thank his lucky stars that it hadn't been Snape or McGonagall. Lockhart was quickly shaping out to be comic relief and was therefore inconsequential.

Unfortunately, he was having to deal with his rune enhanced temper and digging his heels in seemed like a perfectly fine thing to do.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

While Harry did briefly attain legendary status among the Gryffindors for managing to toss a goblet at Malfoy, stab a professor and get a lengthy detention on his first day back in Hogwarts, that was no comfort to him when he had to spend several hours every day doing manual labor with Filch.

He could vaguely recall needing to do age inappropriate chores at the Dursleys, but it had been a long time since he'd done any kind of mind numbingly repetitive physical labor. The whole experience was made worse because Filch kept pontificating on the kind of punishments he'd like to use on students.

Seriously, how did a man that wanted to use a cat o' nine tails with barbed metal tips on children work in a school?

The issue of the public apology had stalled since nobody actually wanted to do it and Harry was quite sure that whatever forbearance Snape had found for him last year had now evaporated. The Potions master had spent a large portion of the previous year looking at him as if he was a puzzle, but now he'd reverted to back to his full nastiness.

Harry suspected that he had given some pointers to Filch on how to make detention more unpleasant. At least it was the last day. The only reason his temper wasn't getting away from him again was because he'd expected it to happen and resigned himself to it. He definitely needed to get a handle on that problem though, and fast.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Uh, Harry?" Ginny started uncertainly.

"Yes?" The boy in question asked, not looking up from his book.

"Weren't you supposed to be in detention?"

"Why would I be in detention?"

"Because you called professor Lockhart a...." Ginny paused for a moment, blushing. "...a bucket of warm piss and stomped out of his classroom?"

"I did not." Harry protested, his own face going red. This new temper of his was starting to become a serious problem. "I said that he's about as qualified to teach as a bucket of warm piss."

"Okay, but shouldn't you be in detention for that?"

"According to Lockhart, yes, but I'm not going to waste my time helping that idiot answer his fan mail."

"Do you, um, want to go for a w-walk around the lake then?" Ginny stuttered out, her previous blush returning with a vengeance.

"I have homework to do." Harry replied, going back to his book.

"O-oh, maybe some other time then!" She said in a rush and ran off, hiding her crestfallen expression.

Harry released an aggravated sigh. Why oh why couldn't she tell that he was simply not interested?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Come ...come to me...Let me rip you...Let me tear you...Let me kill you...."

Harry paused on his way back to the Ravenclaw tower from one of his late night excursions to the Restricted Section, a chill going down his spine at the malicious voice.

"Hello?" He asked softly.

There was no answer and it was a much disturbed Harry Potter that returned to his room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure you weren't just hearing things?" Ginny asked sceptically the next day, after being told about the voice.

Harry paused for a moment to consider that. It was not entirely impossible that he might have been sleepy and imagined it, but he was getting that feeling of foreshadowing for plot related information over this. It was certainly ominous enough.

"No, I'm sure it was another voice and I definitely wasn't imagining it."

"Don't worry about it Harry, I hear voices all the time." Luna added reassuringly. "If your voice comes back, we could introduce it to my voices and they could be friends."

"It didn't sound like the type of voice that would have friends." Harry replied, amused.

Luna looked genuinely upset by this. "Oh. Maybe it's just lonely?"

"Luna, this is serious!" Ginny said with a scowl. She hadn't been sleeping well lately and wasn't in the mood for Luna's games.

"I know." Luna agreed wholeheartedly. "Loneliness is a terrible thing."

Ginny looked like she wanted to hit something.

"I'll be sure to try befriending the voice if I hear it again." Harry interjected, still amused. "If it still wants to kill people after that, I can point it at Malfoy and Lockhart."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hogwarts staff room, September 30th.

A new year had arrived, meaning another start-of-year meeting between the headmaster and the four heads of house.

Most of the relevant topics ranging from school brooms to the new first years had already been discussed, leaving only things of special importance.

"Albus, you really must do something about Lockhart. The man is a menace." McGonagall said in exasperation.

"I would like nothing more, Minerva." Dumbledore replied with a sigh. "Unfortunately, I am out of options. There is literally nobody to replace him with."

"There is something of a minor revolt brewing among my house because of him." Flitwick added, a touch amused. "Apparently, Mr. Potter's dramatic exit and refusal to attend any more of the man's classes has planted the idea in many of their heads that they would be better off not attending the class at all. Ms. Lovegood and Weasley have already stopped and are using Mr. Potter's notes from last year to learn the material."

Snape made a derisive snort. His opinion on Harry Potter had taken a sharp dive since the start of the year when the boy had thrown his temper tantrum. Oh, the boy was certainly nothing like his father, but he was still a brat.

"Were you not going to convince him to attend the DADA lessons again?" Dumbledore asked.

"I tried, but he told me that he may not be able to stop himself from another stabbing if he had to answer one more question about Lockhart's favorite color." Flitwick answered. "Sadly, I cannot blame him."

This time it was Sprout and McGonagall who snorted. They couldn't blame him either. There was a reason why the boy had gotten off so lightly, mostly because all the professors had been silently gleeful at seeing Lockhart dance around with a fork sticking out of his hand. Even Poppy had been rougher than strictly necessary when she removed it.

"Have any of you noticed that Harry seems to be rather...angry this year?" Dumbledore asked, deciding not to pursue the issue of DADA attendance. Lockhart would serve as a placeholder professor just as well whether he had any students to teach or not, which was really the only thing that had ever been expected of him.

"Yes, it's the strangest thing really." Sprout said. "I remember him as being very even tempered last year, but I've seen him visibly clamp down on his anger several times in the past month."

Flitwick and McGonagall offered their own observations, which were just more of the same. Harry was occasionaly exhibiting anger management issues.

Snape let the other three heads of house debate the matter for a few minutes with the headmaster before he simply couldn't tolerate their blindness anymore.

"Has it perhaps escaped your attention that there is more going on with the boy than merely a few angry outbursts?" He asked cuttingly.

What do you mean, Severus?" Dumbledore asked.

"He has been ogling the older girls when he thinks that nobody is looking."

"Surely not.....he's only twelve!" McGonagall said.

"An early bloomer then?" Dumbledore opined with a smile. "He has been having a bit of a growth spurt recently."

Severus' observation came as no small comfort for the old wizard. He had feared that this was a result of learning the prophecy, so the possibility of it being merely growing pains was a great relief. Powerful wizards often made for volatile teenagers. Dumbledore could well remember his own explosive temper when he had been growing up. He had not truly calmed down until Ariana's death had shown him the danger of rash actions done in anger.

"It seems a bit extreme to be merely puberty." Sprout said dubiously. Her Hufflepuffs were a generally calm sort.

"You wouldn't be saying that if James Potter had been in your house." McGonagall countered, vividly recalling the truly ridiculous amount of trouble that James and Sirius had been once puberty hit them.

"Or Lily." Flitwick chuckled. While the redhead had not shown overt interest in boys through her Hogwarts years, her temper had been a fearsome thing.

Dumbledore twinkled.

Snape sneered at the mention of his childhood nemesis and brooded at the mention of his lost love.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was Halloween and Harry was once again shunning the feast in the Great Hall by eating in the kitchens, but this time he had company.

"I wonder if the heliopaths in the Ministry celebrate Halloween." Luna mused, gorging herself on pudding.

"Maybe." Harry replied idly as he continued to eat. He was pretty sure that heliopaths didn't exist, but why argue about it? Better to just change the subject. "What was up with Ginny today? She seemed kind of worn out."

"Oh, she was just upset that you wouldn't go to the feast with her." Luna told him airily. The redhead kept on trying to get Harry romantically interested in her no matter how many times Luna told her that Ginny's larval bizzwhizzlers simply weren't catching the attention of Harry's creeping lickbiggles.

Harry grumbled a bit at that. The redhead's ongoing crush had transformed from silent blushing to the occasional stuttering invitation to do this or that thing that he had no interest in. She was alright most of the time, but he had to struggle not to snap at her whenever she got it into her head to make another attempt at asking him out.

"...rip....tear...kill...."

Harry's head snapped as the familiar malicious hiss reached his ears.

"I can hear that voice again!" He said.

"Let's go find it and make it it our friend!" Luna proclaimed, grabbing some more pudding for the road.

The two Ravenclaws tore out of the kitchen, following what vague directions Harry could give.

"....so hungry....for so long..."

"It's moving up!" He said.

"What is it saying?" Luna asked.

"Something about being hungry."

"Do you think it likes pudding?"

Harry snorted. It didn't seem very likely, given how homicidal the voice sounded.

He suddenly stopped at that thought, abruptly realizing that chasing after a murderous disembodied voice may not be the wisest course of action.

"Why are you stopping, Harry? Our new friend is getting away!" Luna called, running ahead.

"....kill...time to kill...."

"Luna!" Harry yelled and started running again, though this time it was with the intent of stopping her from potentially getting herself killed.

They sprinted right past the ground floor and further up, onto the second floor.

"....blood....I SMELL BLOOD!"

"Oh, I guess Mrs. Norris found the voice before we did." Luna said plainly, staring at the petrified form of the much disliked cat that was currently hanging from a torch bracket by her tail.

On the wall, a message was daubed in foot high letters in something that looked suspiciously like blood.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED, ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE.

"Luna, I think we might want to get out of here." Harry said nervously, realizing how suspicious this would look to any passerby.

Naturally, The Halloween feast just happened to have ended a short while earlier, flooding the corridor with students. Harry and Luna quickly found themselves surrounded and subjected to a lot of pointing and whispering.

"Enemies of the Heir beware! You'll be next mudbloods!" The distinct voice of Draco Malfoy broke through, they blond Slytherin himself having pushed his way to the front.

Filch was the next arrival, his mood quickly turning murderous upon seeing his beloved cat petrified. He was just about to attempt strangling Harry when Dumbledore showed up.

"Hello headmaster." Luna greeted cheerfully. "Did you hear the voices too?"

"Voices?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Harry heard a voice and we chased it up here." Luna explained, not seeing Harry's frantic signaling to stop.

"I think both of you had better come with me." The old wizard said after a moment.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Now Harry, would you care to tell me what your friend meant by 'voices'?" Dumbledore asked once they were all settled in his office.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to talk about it. Unfortunately, Luna had not really left him with the option of keeping things to himself.

"I heard a voice moving through the school, talking about how hungry it was and about killing something." He admitted.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever heard this voice before?"

"Once, late at night." Harry replied, not mentioning the location since he'd been breaking curfew at the time.

"From your bed in the Ravenclaw tower?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

Harry nodded jerkily, fairly sure that the old wizard didn't believe him but unwilling to just outright admit it.

"Very well, could you describe this voice to me."

"It was...." Harry paused, not sure how to describe a voice. "cold, I guess. And it had a hiss to it."

Dumbledore's brows furrowed in thought, a suspicion growing in his mind.

"Would you like to help me test something, Harry?" He asked.

"Sure, I guess." Harry agreed cautiously.

Dumbledore nodded and took out his wand, pointing it at his desk.

"Serpentsortia."

Harry jumped at bit as a snake materialized on the desk, staring wide eyed at the reptile.

"Try talking to it." The headmaster prompted, noticing that young Ms. Lovegood was starting to bounce in her seat excitedly. She clearly knew what was being implied.

Harry gave him an odd look, but did so.

"Hello."

The snake perked up and looked directly at him. "Grettings Speaker."

"It talked back." Harry said in amazement.

"You're a Parselmouth!" Luna proclaimed, just as amazed.

"A what?"

"A wizard who can speak to serpents." Dumbledore explained, vanishing the conjured snake. "It is a rare gift that tends to pass through bloodlines."

"Did one of my parents have it too then?" Harry asked in interest.

"No Harry, they didn't, but Voldemort did. It is possible that some of his power was transfered to you that night." Dumbledore said, avoiding the issue of the Horcrux that was lodged in the boy's scar.

Normally, he would not be telling this to anyone besides Harry, but he was hoping that the shared secret would make their friendship tighter. Giving Harry extra reasons to feel obligated to fight Voldemort was always good.

Harry frowned at that. It sounded a bit farfetched, but who could really say what kind of price his mother's blood contract had exacted from the Dark Lord when he attempted to violate it? It could very well have torn away a piece of his magic when it failed to kill him completely.

Voldemort's not-quite-death still bugged him. The only thing he knew of that would allow an unscrupulous magic user to survive the destruction of their body was a phylactery, but Voldemort had still been a living wizard and not an undead Lich. Then again, he had no idea how magic of that sort worked in the real world, or if it was even possible to make a soul jar. He hoped it was something else. If Voldemort had made a phylactery and was at all smart, he'd hidden it in some remote corner of the world that nobody would ever think to look. It would make killing him for good hellishly problematic.

"Does that mean that I was hearing a snake of some kind?" He finally asked, focusing back on the topic at hand.

"It is possible." Dumbledore admitted with some reluctance, not wanting the two children getting mixed up in this any further. "You had best get back to the Ravenclaw Tower and get some rest. Also, I would urge to keep your Parseltongue ability a secret. Voldemort has given it a bad reputation in Britain and the other students may not look kindly upon you for having it."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When the two children left his office, Dumbledore began pacing in worry.

When the Chamber had first been opened half a century ago, they had never fully resolved the mystery. Hagrid had been blamed for it, but Dumbledore knew that the groundskeeper had not been the culprit.

Tom Riddle had always been his primary suspect, but there had been no proof.

He had done a great deal of research on the subject of permanent petrification, trying to figure out how it had been done.

There were potions that could do it, but forcibly administering a potion to unwilling students or a cat would be quite a feat. Especially in the positions they had been found in.

Dark magic was also a possibility. There were spells that would petrify people permanently. That had in fact been the assumption that Dumbledore had been working from. Tom Riddle had been an exceptional student and might have been capable of it, though he had desperately hoped it wasn't him.

There were some creatures that could petrify people, but most of them were automatically ruled out as being unable to survive since the time of Salazar Slytherin or because they would have left obvious markings on the bodies.

None were snakes.

He had not considered that the creature in question might have a Killing Gaze. He had thought that Myrtle had been an aberration in the pattern, not that the others had merely been hideously lucky.

A quick use of his pensieve confirmed what he had already feared would be the case. All the other petrified students from fifty years ago could have conceivably seen only a reflection. Mrs. Norris was a cat and would have likely kept her eyes on the ground and Dumbledore recalled that the hallways had been flooded slightly. The water would have reflected the eyes.

There was only one serpent that could have lived for a thousand years beneath the school. It was also the only serpent with a Killing Gaze.

A basilisk. The oldest one in known history. One so old that its gaze had become powerful enough to affect people even through indirect eye contact, something that had never been seen before. It must be gigantic by now.

In retrospect it was terribly obvious that Salazar Slytherin might have bred such a beast, an observation that made Dumbledore feel foolish for overlooking it.

But who was commanding the beast? Despite being a parseltongue himself, Harry had an alibi that the house elves could easily verify. Not to mention that the boy had apparently been unaware of his gift until now and Dumbledore didn't believe that he had any reason to be loosing the basilisk on the school to begin with.

They were obviously clever enough to freeze the portraits and take various other precautions that would make finding them difficult. They had even killed Hagrid's roosters, another indication of what the beast was. Roosters were not difficult to find, but the basilisk unfortunately was.

He hoped that he could find the Heir before he or she struck again. He hoped that nobody would die. He hoped that it was not Voldemort's doing. He hoped that Harry would not be targeted if it was. The boy was not ready to face his nemesis yet.

Dumbledore kept pacing in his office under the watchful gazes of past headmasters, too many hopes and too many worries weighing on his shoulders to let him sleep. It was only when Fawkes returned with his soothing phoenix song from wherever he went on these trips of his that the old wizard was able to relax enough to get some rest.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry and Luna found themselves on the receiving end of a lot of pointing and whispering for the next few days after that incident. Thanks to Luna's comment about hearing voices, there was a general concensus that they were both a bit loony.

Well, more loony. Harry had never quite fit in – in no small part due to his own actions the previous year and because he was more interested in magic than people– and Luna was....Luna.

This kind of reputation might have attracted bullies in most situations, but they managed to avoid that scenario.

Harry was well known to be exceptionally talented with practical magic, making him an unappealing target for people his own age and the upper years had better things to do than pick on a second year. Not to mention that his spectacular blow up in the Great Hall at the start of term made people just a bit wary of his temper.

Luna would have been an appealing target for bullies on her own, but several factors prevented that from happening. Her friendship with Harry was one of those, but only to a point since he had little to no interaction with the current first years aside from Ginny and Luna.

It was actually Ginny that was the main reason for the lack of people trying to pick on Luna. The spacey blonde was not a particularly forceful person and wouldn't have retaliated against bullies, but Ginny had grown up with six older brothers and had no problem asserting herself. Those very same older brothers were another reason why they were generally left alone. Nobody wanted the Weasley twins targeting them specifically.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The school year plodded along. Classes were had, Quidditch was played, magic was learned.

Harry focused most of his efforts on learning Occlumency, desperately wanting to regain full control of himself. It was slow going without a teacher, but there was nothing else for it. He'd nearly lost his temper several times since the start of term and if the smirk that one sixth year girl had given him, his newfound appreciation for the female form had not gone unnoticed.

He'd also gotten some comments on his height, which was fast approaching the territory of being abnormally tall for a twelve year old. On a personal level, Harry was highly pleased by this. He knew that it was going to get him some very pointed questions when he didn't stop growing, but he would just have to deal with that as it came.

Lockhart occasionally made a nuisance of himself, but was otherwise a non-factor. His class attendance continued to drop steadily, with a large portion of those who stayed being starstruck girls.

The matter of the Chamber of Secrets remained a popular topic of gossip, with increasingly outlandish theories being bandied about as a form of entertainment. Nobody had liked Mrs. Norris, so nobody was overly concerned about the whole thing despite Draco Malfoy's best efforts to frighten the muggleborn students with his sneering.

Right up to the point when Colin Creevey was found petrified and things suddenly became serious.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Poor Colin, I knew him well." Luna said mournfully.

"Did you just quote Shakespeare?" Harry asked incredulously. Since when did wizards know anything about muggle literature?

"No, I actually knew Colin well. He came to ask me if I could get you to take a photo with him at least once a week." Luna answered in a confused tone. "Who's Shakespeare?"

"Where did they find him?" Ginny interjected, her face pale and frightened.

"Fourth floor, probably looking for the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. The creepy little stalker." Harry grumbled. Colin's persistent hero worship had been so annoying that he couldn't even bring himself to feel ashamed of his relief at the boy's petrification. Maybe it would be different if he'd been killed, but as the annoying Gryffindor would only be playing statue for a few months, Harry was able to take joy in another's misfortune with zero guilt.

"Do you think it'll happen again?" Ginny asked meekly, desperately hoping to hear a denial. She still vividly remembered the blackout she'd had during Halloween and the blood she'd found on her fingers when she came to. She would never hurt Colin or even Mrs. Norris, but that was a pretty suspicious situation by any stretch.

"Probably. I doubt that this 'Heir of Slytherin' character would start something like this only to stop before any real harm was done." Harry answered. There was also Dobby's warning to consider, which he was now certain had pertained to current events. If only he could figure out who Dobby's master was, then he could make a reasonable guess at the perpetrator. He'd already asked the Hogwarts house elves and they hadn't been able to tell him anything.

He'd briefly entertained the idea that Draco Malfoy might be the culprit, but dismissed it quickly. Not even Draco would be stupid enough to keep running his mouth about the Heir 'purging' the school of mudbloods if he was responsible for this. Not to mention that it apparently needed to be a Parselmouth, which Draco wasn't as far as anyone knew.

And people would know. The blond Slytherin would have bragged about it far and wide the moment he learned that he was one.

Ginny gnawed at her lip in intense worry.

"Don't worry Ginny, I'm sure that Harry will be able to make friends with the basilisk as soon as we find it." Luna tried to comfort, only making the redhead girl pale further at the mention of the Serpent King.

It hadn't taken an exhaustive amount of research to figure out that bit of information after the talk with Dumbledore. There really weren't that many snakes that fit the criteria.

"I really don't think that the basilisk is looking for friends, Luna." Harry said in exasperation, knowing that his argument would likely fall on deaf ears. Again.

While Luna went into a lecture on the horrors loneliness as it pertained to millenia old snakes that contained only trace amounts of logic, Ginny continued to gnaw at her lip.

She wasn't a Parselmouth, so she shouldn't be capable of commanding the basilisk that was presumably lurking in the Chamber of Secrets, but she couldn't help worrying. She'd blacked out earlier today as well, the same as she had on Halloween.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The duelling club debacle passed with little incident save to further demonstrate Lockhart's incompetence. Harry had been interested but done a 180 as soon as he saw who was hosting it, unknowingly circumventing a large amount of pointless drama.

He had decided against staying at Hogwarts for Christmas this year. He had some things he wanted to do and he couldn't do them at the castle.

Luna was also leaving, which subsequently meant that Ginny was as well since she didn't want to stay in the castle all by herself.

The only oddity about Harry's decision to go back to his foster parents for Christmas was the fact that he had no intention of actually seeing his foster parents. Or even informing them that he wasn't at Hogwarts for that matter.

Instead of getting into an expensive car and driving back to 74 Cromwell Road from King's Cross, Harry wandered into London in search of a library, internet café or something else with public internet access.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Harry logged in to his account on the website where he posted his arithmancy problems, eager to see what answers he'd gotten.

The answers were there as he had hoped, but he also had a surprising private message from another user. Why would anyone want to talk to him privately?

We need to talk. Contact me as soon as you receive this message.

The near demand sent a frisson of worry up Harry's spine. He was starting to get the feeling that his idea about posting arithmancy problems on the internet was not as clever as he'd thought it was.

I'm here. He sent simply, getting back a set of instructions not three minutes later.

Swallowing nervously, Harry followed the instructions that led him to a public chat room. One of those that were frequently used as examples of where innocent young boys and girls might encounter pedophiles in fact.

Coincidentally, this did not make Harry feel any better about the situation. Still, he was far too worried about what this might have to do with his arithmancy to be turned away. Besides, he reasoned that as long as he didn't give out his name or address, it would be fine.

He received a request for a private channel almost as soon as he entered the chat room, from someone with the almost ridiculously stereotypical username of 'xXPussyDestroyer33Xx'.

I bet you thought you were being clever by posting arithmancy problems on the internet. The presumed man on the other end began without preamble. You probably thought you were one-upping the wizard-raised by using technology to solve problems beyond your own ability. Only a European wizard could be so sheltered and judging by your vernacular I'd guess British.

Why European? Harry wrote back, not wanting to admit that his caustic interlocutor was right.

Well I suppose you could also have been American, but I doubt it. The other avoided.

Why not Chinese? Harry asked, picking a country at random.

There are no more magical enclaves in China, Mao made sure of it. Came the reply, the words somehow seeming heavier than mere text should allow.

Harry frowned. He'd never heard of anyone named Mao before. Who is Mao?

There was a long pause and Harry got the distinct feeling that he had surprised his conversation partner.

You must be very young to not know about Mao Zedong. To summarize, he was once a leader of China and is also responsible for the deaths of some 45-78 million people during his reign, among them the majority of China's magical population.

But why? Harry asked in shock.

Dictators do not like sharing power and the Chinese sorcerers were very powerful. They had perhaps the oldest magical civilization on the planet and were very proud of it. As they were Chinese, Mao considered them to be beholden to him. They were outraged and mocked the man for his stupidity, jeering as they turned him away, secure in their superiority and their millenia of gathered magical expertise. They learned too late that traitors, guns and strength of numbers was more than a match for their magics.

Why would wizards turn on their own? Harry wrote back, not really knowing what else to say. He remembered his housemate Su Li and wondered if her parents or grandparents had been one of those who'd escaped. Or had they been the traitors?

Why else? Because they had been scorned and derided by their own for whatever reason. Mao's offers would have sounded very appealing to them. It didn't take long before they were betrayed in turn.

My history books don't say anything about this.

Of course they don't. The European magicals like to ignore things they find inconvenient. You won't hear about the same thing happening in Russia with Stalin either. The Frost Sorcerer Cabal protected the country for centuries, sending the Great Winter to break the back of any army that threatened the motherland, but that was not good enough for Stalin. He wanted to control everything and destroyed what he couldn't.

What about Japan? Harry asked next, hoping to hear that Cho Chang, the pretty Ravenclaw one year above him, was at least a regular immigrant.

Bad luck and arrogance. Most of them were in Hiroshima and didn't believe that the warnings the Americans gave applied to them. The nuclear fire wasn't even slowed down by their wards.

So there aren't any wizards left in Asia at all?

There are. India was spared any similar madness, though the caste system of magical India is far more oppressive than the mundane one and therefore not somewhere you'd want to live unless you were born at the top.

Harry decided to look into this 'caste' system that the other had mentioned. He also wondered if Padma and Parvati's parents had been born 'at the bottom' and fled the country because of it.

There are a number of Japanese magical families in sworn service to their Emperor. These generally live in the capital and avoided the bombs. Russia and China both still have some magicals, but these are mostly focused on keeping the mundane governments from finding the newbloods and turning them into weapons.

I won't tell you any horror stories about the Middle East. I'm sure you've heard about Europe's witch trials and Islam is no more tolerant of magic than Christianity or Judaism. Even less these days.

Why don't they tell us this? Harry demanded, suddenly angry that Binns just kept droning on about the Goblin Rebellions when this kind of crap was happening elsewhere in the world.

Like I told you, European magicals like to ignore things they find incconvenient. They don't like to think about how much the world has changed since the Statute of Secrecy was put into place. They have no idea that their precious secrecy has more holes in it than Swiss cheese.

What do you mean?

Memory wipes worked fine until the internet was invented. Your Obliviators can wipe all the memories they want, but that video of an idiot wizard wearing a dress and waving a wand around is going to stay on Youtube. The poster's lack of memory is just going to make the whole thing even more suspicios. If the mundane governments weren't running their own damage control for their own reasons, the secret would have been blown wide open years ago.

I see. Harry replied, feeling a bit shaky.

Anyway, you should stop posting questions that have obviously magical origins to anyone in the know. Big Brother has eyes everywhere these days. Get a good computer and learn how to do arithmantic calculations with it yourself, but keep it off the net.

Alright, I will. Harry agreed. After what he'd just learned, he was not at all eager to draw any kind of attention to himself.

A final bit of advice for you, my young friend. Don't trust politicians; not magical ones and definitely not mundane ones. They will smile and make promises when they need something from you, but their hearts will turn to stone if you ever need their help.

Merry Christmas, bratan.

The connection was broken and Harry took a deep breath to take in what he'd just learned. The world suddenly seemed like a much darker place. He wondered who the man he'd just talked to really was and if he'd ever speak to him again.

A quick search on what 'bratan' actually meant only told him that he was probably Russian. Probably a wizard too, given how knowledgeable he was on the subject of Asia's magicals. Harry regretted not asking him about the situation in the rest of the world. If he had the correct feeling for the man's paranoia, then he probably wouldn't be able to contact him again in the same way. Maybe Charlus and Dorea would know something.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As it turned out, Charlus and Dorea didn't know anything.

"I never imagined that the situation in Asia was so bad." Charlus was saying. "I do remember that there was a sudden upswing in immigrants from those parts after the second World War, but I just thought it was better here than over there."

"What about America?" Harry asked, disappointed but not too surprised.

"America has always been something of a touchy subject for Britain." Dorea said with a grimace. "Magical America was a colony of ours the same as muggle America was for muggle Britain. Most of the nobility stayed here, but there were a few families that went searching for their fortunes over the Atlantic, the majority were half-bloods and muggleborns however. All of those families were killed alongside the goblins when America made its bid for independence. Losing control of all that territory to half-bloods and muggleborns would have been offensive enough for the British purebloods of the time, but it's the fact that the Gryffindor line was also snuffed out there that people are really unable to get over."

"I'll bet it is." Harry snorted. He'd already seen how fixated people could be on their bloodlines. Having the Gryffindor family wiped out by rebellious commoners would have the purebloods baying for blood now, much less a couple of hundred years ago when their sense of entitlement was probably even worse.

"Don't expect a warm welcome if you ever decide to visit there." Charlus warned. "I expect that there is no shortage of American wizards that would make themselves your enemies simply for being British, nevermind the fact that you're the heir of a Noble House."

"I'll keep it in mind." Harry agreed, having actually been considering a trip across the sea. "How about Australia then? Can I expect a warm welcome there?"

Dorea's lip twitched at her grandson's dry sarcasm as her husband answered.

"Hard to say. The magical community there is actually the youngest in the world, having only formed properly just before the turn of the twentieth century. The old families thought that the muggles had a grand idea about using Australia as a penal colony, only in our case it was seen as a dumping ground for squibs and the occasional problematic-but-not-criminal wizard. All that dormant magical blood eventually began producing wizards and witches that established their own community." Charlus explained.

"So they're probably resentful but not as hostile as America." Harry concluded.

"I also suspect that the Wizengamot is very quietly terrified of them." Dorea added.

"Why?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"A lot of families have died out since the practice of exiling squibs was put into place, Harry." She explained. "There are likely quite a few wizards and witches in Australia that are now able to claim Lordships of those families. If they decided to do so, they could wield considerable influence in the Wizengamot."

"And the Wizengamot couldn't stop them because the seats are hereditary." He finished, unable to keep from snickering as he realized the full extent of the quandary the purebloods had created for themselves. Australia was filled with an unknown number of potential Wizengamot Lords, none of which were purebloods by their definition or even British.

The Australians could, theoretically, claim all of those lordships and paralyze the legislative body of Wizarding Britain out of sheer spite.

"This is going to be your problem too one day." Dorea told him pointedly. "Yo do, after all, have a seat of your own on the Wizengamot."

"Fuck the Wizengamot." Harry replied succintly. He had no intention whatsoever of playing the politician. There was so much to see in the world that sitting in a stuffy room and arguing with the inbred social elite of magical Britain held no appeal.

"Harry, language." Dorea scolded.

Harry snickered some more at the absurdity of being scolded by his furniture. It had stung to realize that the portraits of his grandparets were still just portraits at the end of the day, not real people. They were an incredible bit of spellwork to be sure, but anyone that spent enough time talking to a magical portrait eventually realized that they had a limited range of personality and couldn't really adapt to change.

"Leave the lad be, Dorea." Charlus told his wife, grinning openly. "It's not like I haven't thought the same thing every time I had to attend a meeting."

"It's unseemly for the heir of a Noble House to be so crass." Dorea sniffed.

Harry rolled his eyes. He suspected that he would end up doing a lot of things that were unseemly for the heir of a Noble House. He had built up quite a bit of disdain for 'proper' behavior after having to deal with Robert and Katherine since he was seven.

"Anyway, I wanted to get your thoughts on my next ritual...."

He explained to them the runes he intended to use and the effect he was going for. It was one that he was particularly excited to try, as it would work to increase the size of his magical core and make him more powerful over time in the same way that his first set made accelerated his maturity.

Unfortunately, he quickly hit a snag.

"Harry, you can't do this ritual." Charlus said, exasperation coloring his tone.

"Why not?" Harry near demanded. It was perfect! He knew it was.

"Because there is no such thing as a 'magical core'." Charlus explained.

"But my research..." Harry started.

"Yes, I know you've come across the term in your research." The portrait cut him off. "The term 'magical core' is frequently used to describe a wizard's unused, latent magic, but it is terribly misleading. It gives the impression that wizards and witches are born with a different sized pools of magic inside their bodies, but that simply isn't the case. Exceptional people make for exceptional magic users, but I guarantee you that any shopkeeper in Diagon Alley has the same magical potential as Dumbledore."

"How does that make any sense?" Harry asked, baffled.

"The exact mechanics of it aren't known to anyone except maybe the Unspeakables, but the gist of it is that people with high willpower, intelligence and a number of other personality traits will also have more powerful magic, whereas simpletons and cowards will invariably be weak. That's why people under great emotional duress can sometimes perform feats of magic far above their usual ability and why there is no such thing as a power enhancing ritual."

Harry rubbed the back of his head, feeling the outline of Da'Roir, the rune that was meant to enhance his willpower. If what Charlus was saying was correct, then it would certainly explain why his memory was noticeably improved with the rune, but the willpower enhancement had always been something he hadn't been sure if it had even worked.

"Why does everyone seem to think that power levels are inborn then?" He asked.

"I suspect it makes them feel better to think that the powerful have an inborn advantage." Charlus shrugged.

Harry snorted. That sounded about right.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

With his plans to do a power enhancing ritual foiled, Harry tried to put together a different one, having wanted to carve a new set of runes into his flesh over the holidays.

Unfortunately, with the internet denied to him as a resource, he simply wasn't good enough with arithmancy to put together a ritual. Not yet. Charlus had taken the subject when he'd been going to Hogwarts, but it had decades since the last time he'd made use of that knowledge and he was more than a little rusty. Neither he nor Harry were willing to chance something going wrong due to impatience.

Though disgruntled by the need to put off any further rituals, Harry relented. He did however make a resolution to buy himself a high end laptop for that kind of thing. It probably wouldn't work under the wards of the manor, not to mention the lack of electricity or Wi-Fi, but he could always camp out somewhere in London if he needed to.

He would have completely forgotten about Christmas if Teeny, Charlus and Dorea hadn't reminded him.

Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, but he had actual friends now. Friends for which he had no idea what kind of presents to buy.

After a good bit of headscratching, he decided to keep it simple. He had no better ideas and he didn't want to encourage Ginny's crush.

Seeing as both of them were completely wizard-raised, he figured that getting them something non-magical might count as a novelty.

Luna got a book, more specifically Alice in Wonderland. Talking to her frequently made him question which rabbit hole he'd dropped into and he was also curious what she'd make of the book.

Ginny was a lot more problematic to buy something for, to the extent that he started wondering if sending her a small bag of galleons would be considered rude.

Christmas was so much less complicated when you didn't have friends.

Eventually he gave up on finding something that seemed like a good idea and got her a flower themed hairband that the sales lady had assured him would go well with red hair. He really hoped that she wouldn't take it as a declaration of romantic interest.

He also got both of them a large bag of potato chips, mostly as a silent protest to the lack of salty junk food in the Wizarding World.

He spent most of Christmas day wondering what they would get him and felt more stung than he'd expected to be when no owls showed up. Charlus, Dorea and even Teeny did their best to keep his mind off the fact that his supposed friends had apparently decided not to bother sending him any presents for Christmas, but he still ended up being a bit more surly than normal.

By the time the holidays were over, he'd mostly cooled off, but he was still determined to give both Luna and Ginny a hard time over it.

Chapter Text

"Hello Harry." Luna greeted as she opened the compartment door.

"Hi." The boy said back, a bit more subdued as he once again recalled the lack of presents on Christmas. It wasn't really so much about the presents as it was about the gesture of it.

He didn't have long to mope about it though, as Luna got right in his face and peered at him in a most unnerving fashion.

"What are you doing?" He asked, leaning back into the seat in an attempt to avoid the scrutiny.

"I'm trying to see what you did to yourself to give my owl such a terrible wrackspurt infestation." Luna replied absently.

"Your owl has...wrackspurts?" He asked, recalling that this was Luna-speak for confusion.

"Oh yes, I've never seen anything like it and neither has daddy. I tried to send you your Christmas present, but the poor thing just flew in circles for a while and then came back." She explained.

"Really?" Harry asked in surprise. That would certainly explain why he hadn't gotten any presents, but it opened up an entirely new set of questions.

It could have been Dobby making a reappearance, but he didn't think so. The house elf had said that he'd tried to intercept his letters, not confuse the owls.

Another – and in his mind far more likely – reason for the strange behavior of the owls was that something about him was baffling them, something that prevented them from using whatever method they used to find him.

Harry was sure that it was all in his head, but he keenly felt the presence of Arhain on his chest. The rune of secrecy could have conceivably done more than merely hide his scars. It wouldn't be the first time that there had been unexpected side-effects from his runes, but he had hoped that the Avariel runes would be less temperamental. He dreaded to think what he might discover about the hidden side-effects of Aul'El. He hadn't found any so far, but he was suddenly worried about it.

If he was right about this, then this was both good and bad. On one hand, it would make him much harder to find, but on the other, it would make owl correspondence quite problematic.

"Mhm." Luna hummed and continued her examination of him. "I had to send it to Hogwarts so that I could give it to you when we got back.

"So, how did you like the book I gave you?" Harry asked, scooting away from the blonde girl.

"I really liked it." Luna said happily, sitting down and momentarily abandoning her investigation. "It was a fascinating treatise on many strange magical creatures and events."

"A treatise...?" Harry started with incredulity and then trailed off. "Luna, you do know that Alice in Wonderland is just a story, right?"

"Just because it's imaginary doesn't make it untrue." Luna agued.

"If you say so." Harry capitulated, bemused. Luna made no sense sometimes, but it was impossible to be annoyed by her. She was just too nice.

About ten minutes after that, Ginny showed up, nearly missing the train as was apparently the Weasley family tradition.

She looked much better than the last time he'd seen her. After the petrification of Mrs. Norris, Ginny had started becoming more and more sickly looking and had developed bags under her eyes. It looked like some time away from the castle and its basilisk controlling Heir of Slytherin had done her a world of good.

"Hi." She greeted quietly, self- consciously reaching up to touch the hairband that Harry had given her.

"Hello Ginny, did your owl have wrackspurts too?" Luna greeted and asked.

Ginny replied while giving the blonde a baffled expression. "What?"

"Apparently, owls can't find me for some reason." Harry translated.

"Really?" Ginny asked in surprise. "We just thought that Errol was so old that he forgot how to fly to places he'd never been to before, so we sent your presents to Hogwarts."

XXXXX

Once they got settled back into Ravenclaw tower, they discovered that one other person aside from Luna and Ginny had apparently decided to send Harry a Christmas present.

It was a small package, and mysteriously unsigned.

Harry had the irrational hope that the Headmaster or some other benefactor had decided to give him another priceless magical artefact, despite how unlikely that was.

"Open mine first!" Luna insisted, apparently excited to see his reaction to her gift.

He did so, removing the bright wrapping paper.

"Is that....a necklace of butterbeer corks?" Ginny asked in bafflement, staring at the item in question.

"Yes." Luna confirmed sagely. "It keeps away the nargles."

"Thanks." Harry said with what he hoped was a convincing smile rather than a confused one. He did recall Luna saying something about nargles being thieves, so he figured that her heart was in the right place. Besides, it was the thought that counted when gift giving during Christmas wasn't it? Which kind of made Luna's odd gift better than the randomly chosen hairband he'd gotten for Ginny.

"Daddy was going to give you a free lifetime subscription to the Quibbler as well, but that wouldn't make much sense if owls can't find you." Luna added with a frown.

"That's alright Luna, I can just borrow your copy." Harry told her, secretly relieved. From what he'd seen, the Quibbler was almost like a magical parody of a tabloid. Occasionally funny, but not something he'd want a lifetime subscription to.

"Mine now." Ginny piped up, pushing the gift into his hands.

Harry started unwrapping it, but the redhead was apparently too nervous to stay quiet about it.

"I wasn't sure what to get you, especially after you got me this beautiful hairband." She babbled, making Harry stop and stare at her.

"Ginny..."He started slowly, finally getting an inkling as to why she kept fingering the item. "That hairband is nothing special, I got it for you because I didn't know what to get you either. It's a bit nicer than average, but muggles pretty much mass produce them."

It hadn't quite dawned on him at the time he was buying it that there was no such thing as an assembly line in the Wizarding World. He wasn't sure about the food, but all of their clothes and jewelry were handmade. To someone who'd never had contact with the non-magical world, a machine produced accessory would probably look a lot more expensive than it actually was.

"Oh." Ginny blinked. "You mean there are more hairbands like this in the Muggle World?"

"Thousands, probably more." He confirmed.

Ginny felt a strange mixture of disappointed and relieved by that. On one hand, it meant that her gift wasn't going to look subpar in comparison. But on the other, it also meant that the boy she had a crush on hadn't been making a show of affection.

"The Charmingly Charmed Book of Charms Theory?" Harry read the title of the book he'd just unwrapped, staring in bemusement at the animated stick figures dancing energetically across the back cover. Sometimes, wizards really didn't know when to stop spelling, enchanting, jinxing, hexing or otherwise magically altering stuff.

"I know you like to read and you're really good at Charms, so I thought you'd like it."

"Thanks."

"Err....my mother also got you a present." Ginny continued reluctantly, handing him a lumpy package with even more reluctance.

Blinking, Harry took it and opened it, revealing a thick, emerald green sweater with a big golden 'H' sown into the middle.

"She made me a sweater?" He asked, baffled. That was usually the domain of grandmothers with the annoying habit of pinching cheeks from what he knew, though he had fortunately avoided that particular childhood experience.

He had to admit that it was a nice sweater though. It would no doubt be very warm, if one could ignore the embarrassment of having a giant initial plastered across the front of it.

"It's a Weasley sweater, she makes one for each of us every year. I guess she decided to make one for you this year too." Ginny explained, flushing with embarrassment at the antics of her mother.

What she didn't mention was that her mother had made Ginny one that was very similar and was obviously meant to be part of a set. She might have a crush on Harry, but her mother's unsubtle insinuation was far too embarrassing to ever see the light of day. Her matching emerald green sweater with a big gold 'G' on the front was going to stay at the bottom of her trunk until the end of time.

"That's awfully nice of her. You're lucky to have a mother that loves you so much, Ginny." Luna said with a dreamy smile.

An awkward silence followed, both Ginny and Harry being well aware that Luna's mother had died in a botched magical experiment a couple of years ago. The blonde girl was not particularly skittish about the subject, but she always became even more spaced out than usual whenever she thought back to it.

"Alright, lets see what this last one is then." Harry said with a bit of forced cheer in his voice.

Both girls were equally curious about the mystery present and leaned in closer as Harry opened it.

Ginny flushed bright red as the mystery was solved.

"Oh my, she has a very nice pair of boobies." Luna ascertained scientifically, peering at the moving magical photo with rare intensity.

Harry nodded in agreement, staring at the image of a seventh year Ravenclaw doing a little dance in a sexy nightie that was a least a size too small. A distant part of his mind noted that she'd probably bought the item in a muggle lingerie store. Either that, or the Wizarding World took the 'secret' part of Victoria's Secret literally. Most of his attention was captured by the flesh being displayed by the curvy seventeen year old with brown hair and blue eyes however, rather than where'd she'd gotten the see-through garment. His runes prickled even as the blood rushed southwards.

"Who is she?" Ginny asked, her tone accusatory and jealous despite her best efforts.

"I don't know her name." Harry answered truthfully. He did know however, that she was one of the girls that had caught him staring and had raised her eyebrows at him pointedly. He'd been glad to escape being glared at at the time.

The thought that she would send him a sexy picture had never even crossed his mind as a possibility. Sometimes, life was good.

"You need to get rid of it." Ginny stated.

"That would be very rude." Luna countered before Harry could object to the redhead's declaration. "She obviously wanted Harry to have it. What if he threw away your gift? How would that make you feel?"

"It's not the same thing!" The redhead insisted, her voice rising in pitch in her desire to combat Luna's logic.

"Why not?" Luna asked cluelessly.

"Because...because it just isn't!"

"Well that's not much of an argument, is it?" Luna frowned.

"Hey look, there's a note!" Harry interjected, wanting to end the brewing argument. He was inclined to agree with Luna though. A lot of that agreement originated in the fact that her reasoning would end up with him keeping an animated photo of a sexy girl, but still.

"'Have fun polishing your wand.'" Luna read out. "How did she know that your wand needs polishing?"

Both Harry and Ginny flushed bright red, quickly understanding the euphemism.

"Did she find you polishing it during one of your free periods, Harry?" Luna continued.

"NO!" Harry exclaimed in a near panic with his face burning, forgetting for a moment that Luna had meant that literally. "I mean, no. I'm sure she just assumed that it...errr...needs polishing." He finished awkwardly.

How in the six hundred and sixty-six pits of the Abyss was Luna not making the connection between the sexy girl, wand polishing and masturbation, he had no idea, but he'd be damned if he was going to explain it to her.

"I could help you if you don't know the proper technique." The blonde offered innocently.

Amazingly, Harry felt the erection he'd gotten from the moving photo withering from the sheer volume of blood rushing to his face.

"That's alright, Luna. I'm sure I can do it myself." He answered painfully. A quick look at Ginny let him know that the redhead had long since lost the power of speech and would be of no help in ending this conversation.

"Are you sure? Daddy showed me how he polishes his before I left for Hogwarts you know."

Harry's face shifted from bright red to a sickly green. He knew, he knew that Luna hadn't meant it that way, but there was no blocking out the mental imagery.

"I think I'm going to go lie down for a bit." He said, forcibly derailing the conversation.

"You are looking a bit peaky." Luna agreed.

XXXXX

The next morning found Harry in his room, reading the book that Ginny had given him and munching on a pre-breakfast sandwich that Blinky had brought him. The house elves were all well aware of his appetite by now and seemed to be extra fond of him for the additional work it gave them.

The book itself was actually surprisingly good in a 'Charms theory for dummies' kind of way. Granted, it was meant for children ranging from eleven to fifteen in age, but Harry found it a bit simplistic after slogging through the tomes in the Restricted Section. It did provide a bit of insight into things that the more advanced tomes assumed the reader already knew however, such as a few focusing exercises for casting magic properly.

He shut the book with determination and held up a pen, focusing on his desire for the pen to levitate.

After the amount of practice he put into it, the writing implement did so easily. Then, as per the suggestion of the book, he sent it on a slow, looping glide across the room. It wasn't something he'd thought of doing before, but it was surprisingly difficult to keep it focused in a single direction instead of having it flail every which way. It was a jerky and uneven flight as he struggled to keep his focus on the multiple elements required for a smooth one, but it got easier the more he practiced.

Technically, the book said to do this with a wand, but Harry was as determined as ever to avoid looking ridiculous by waving that silly stick about. It would undoubtedly have been worlds easier, but he was rather leery of the idea of being deprived of magic by something as simple as having his wand taken away.

Also, he still hadn't been able to stop thinking of his wand as some kind of magical penis ever since last night. The act of doing magic with a wand felt kind of like giving his magic a good wanking at the moment. A minor issue really and one that would be easily ignored during classes, but it did give him a little extra incentive to master wandless magic.

A knock on the door sent his pen clattering to the floor.

"Come in." He called as he picked it up.

Ginny stuck her head inside, giving him a smile that might be classified as 'overly bright'.

"Morning." She greeted cheerily. "Want to get....breakfast? Harry, why do you have a sandwich in your room?"

"I like to have a little snack before breakfast." He defended.

"A little?" Ginny asked disbelievingly, walking up to what looked to be the remains of a considerably sized sandwich.

"I'm a growing boy." Harry simultaneously lied and told the truth.

"O...kay." Ginny conceded, having heard that one from more than one of her brothers over the years. "So, want to get breakfast?"

"I'm waiting for Luna to get up. Speaking of which, why are you up already? You usually sleep in."

"I just felt like getting up early today." The redhead said a bit defensively.

"Alright." Harry shrugged and dropped the subject. It was none of his business if she wanted to change her sleeping habits.

"So, um, what did you do with...you know...it?" Ginny asked awkwardly, blushing madly.

Harry knew what she was talking about instantly. He was also reminded of a very interesting 'wand polishing' session during which the sexily animated girl in the magical picture had done a striptease for him.

Magic was so awesome. And perhaps his fame had some upsides to it too.

"That's none of your business." He said quckly with a heavy blush on his face, wanting to cringe as soon as he'd said it. He might as well have told her exactly what he'd been doing with that picture last night.

"Harry, you have to get rid of it." The redhead said, disapproval permeating her tone.

"Why?" He asked back, his own tone stiffening. "Luna had a point last night, the girl obviously wanted me to have it."

"It isn't right." She insisted. She'd woken up so early exactly because she didn't want Luna around to argue with her about it.

"Why?" He challenged again. No way was he giving up that picture. There was a criminal dearth of erotic material in the Wizarding World as it was. Not that he'd really looked for any, but he hadn't caught so much as a hint of it so far.

"It just isn't!" She yelled in frustration. "You shouldn't be looking at pictures of some tramp that you don't even know!"

Harry just stared at her, trying to contain the urge to yell back at her. Fortunately, he succeeded. He'd spent practically every night since the beginning of term working on his Occlumency for at least a couple of hours before he went to bed and his temper was finally becoming manageable.

He was still pretty pissed off though. He'd thought that Ginny was getting better about the stupid crush she had on him, but apparently not. He most certainly did not owe her anything and wasn't going to pander to her jealousy.

"I'll look at whatever the hell I want." He snapped.

"Fine then!" She snapped back tearfully. "Keep your thrashy picture if it's so important to you!"

With that, she stomped out, slamming the door for good measure.

"It's not about the damn picture anymore." Harry muttered to himself with a long sigh.

He hadn't been too enthused about Ginny at first, but she'd grown on him after a while. He wasn't so fond of her that he would be willing to give in to her jealous tantrums though.

XXXXX

Ginny grumbled in her sleep as a weight settled itself on her midsection.

Then she batted her hands at whatever was poking her in the cheek.

"Psst! Ginny. Wake up."

The combination of irritating pokes and the voice brought the redhead out of slumber, causing her eyes to slowly open.

And see the form of Luna sitting on her stomach, smiling at her. The gloom, combined with Ginny's sleep addled mind, made her look very creepy.

Naturally, Ginny screamed.

"Hello." Luna chirped, apparently unperturbed.

"Luna?" Ginny hissed, voice heavy with incredulity. "What are you doing here?!"

"I seem to be sitting on your stomach." The blonde answered in all seriousness.

"Why?!"

"I needed to talk to you and you've been avoiding me and Harry all day."

"And why do you need to talk to me so badly." The redhead grumbled sourly, reminded of the blow-up she'd had with Harry in the morning. His obvious determination to keep hold of that slutty photo had put a serious hole in her image of the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Because you've been avoiding me and Harry all day. I want to know why so that I can fix it and we can all be friends again."

Ginny sighed in resignation and slumped back into the bed. "Could you get off me now?"

"I could." Despite saying that, Luna made no move to actually do so.

"Luna, get off."

"Okay."

The blonde clambered off the redhead and settled herself on the mattress. An awkward silence ensued for a while as Luna waited for Ginny to say something, while Ginny didn't know what to say.

"It's about that naughty picture isn't it?" Luna asked shrewdly after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes!" Ginny cried out. "I just don't understand why he wants to keep it so badly."

"She has very nice boobies." Luna reasoned.

"But he's the Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Yes, and boys like boobies."

Ginny spluttered incomprehensibly for a moment, flustered by the utter certainty of Luna's replies.

"But he's a hero! He should find his true love, not...not....stare at a dirty picture that some tramp sent him!"

Luna peered at her closely for a few seconds before replying. "Didn't your parents tell you that boys are more interested in boobies than true love? Daddy told me that the day before I left for Hogwarts."

Ginny flushed in embarrassment. No, they hadn't told her that, but she had heard more than one outraged rant from her mother when she'd found a dirty magazine in Fred and George's room. They must have somehow gotten it from the Muggle World if their mother's rants about the indecency of muggle women was anything to go by.

"But he's not just any boy." She protested weakly.

"But he is a boy, so he must like boobies." Luna insisted. "We can ask him tomorrow if you want to make sure."

"No!" Ginny blurted out, blushing again.

Another few minutes passed in silence, a more comfortable one this time.

"Do you think he'd like my boobies?" The redhead asked eventually, her voice barely audible.

"You don't have any boobies." The blonde trespasser informed her bluntly.

Ginny slumped into herself.

"But don't worry, Harry doesn't seem to be picky about what kind of boobies he likes. He spends a large part of his mealtimes looking at all the ones he can see, so I'm sure that he'll like ours once they grow."

That wasn't really what Ginny wanted to hear. Being just another pair of breasts for Harry Potter's viewing pleasure was a far cry from her dreams of a happily ever after with the Boy-Who-Lived.

XXXXX

A few weeks passed mostly uneventfully. Ginny became progressively more withdrawn, but Harry didn't press her on it, figuring that it was just a consequence of their argument. Luna did try, but was fended off by assurances that she was just tired.

Then the routine was interrupted by another attack, but there was no petrification this time. This time, Terry Boot was found dead in the hallways.

XXXXX

"The Ministry arrested Hagrid?" Harry asked incredulously.

They were in his room, as it had become a sort of unspoken private spot for them. They couldn't use one of the girls' rooms because they had an alarm attached to them if a boy tried to enter them. The reverse did not apply for some reason.

"Yes, he was the one to get blamed when the Chamber of Secrets was opened the last time, fifty years ago." Luna confirmed sadly. She liked Hagrid.

"That doesn't even make sense!" Harry said in exasperation. "If they're running on the assumption that Slytherin's Heir hates muggleborns, Hagrid is hardly likely to be the culprit."

"The Ministry doesn't often make sense."

Harry snorted. That sounded about right.

"There's even talk about Dumbledore being relieved of his post as Hogwarts Headmaster and closing down the school." Luna continued. "It's almost exactly like it happened fifty years ago."

"It was me!" Ginny suddenly cried out, her face deathly pale.

"What was you?" Harry asked slowly, staring at the near frantic redhead. She'd been trembling pretty much since Boot was found dead.

"I was the one who opened the Chamber!" She blurted out. "I mean...I think it was me. I blacked out again and then Terry was dead and now Hagrid got arrested..."

"Ginny, slow down!" Harry cut off her babbling, more than a little alarmed. "I think you'd better start from the beginning."

So she did. She laid out pretty much everything from the mysteriously appearing diary of one T. M. Riddle and how it would talk back to her and even show her its memories, to her blackouts and how they always happened during an attack.

"A Tom Riddle was credited as 'exposing' Hagrid the first time." Luna said contemplatively. She had looked into it with her father during the holidays.

"Ginny, could you show us this diary?" Harry requested, getting a terrible suspicion about the item. Simple spellwork wouldn't be enough to make a diary interactive to that degree.

Ginny agreed and shuffled off to her own room to get her bag, coming back a minute later.

As soon as she handed it to him, he felt the insane urge to write something into it despite what Ginny had just told him. He was more than wary enough of it to immediately think of a compulsion charm though, so he resisted. If the diary was a phylactery as he suspected, then writing into it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Now the only thing left to do was decide what to do with it. Something obviously had to be done, but none of them had any idea how it would affect Ginny if it was either destroyed or left intact.

As much as he didn't trust the old man anymore, Harry reluctantly concluded that he would have to talk to Dumbledore about this.

XXXXX

"Professor Flitwick has informed me that you had an urgent matter you needed to discuss with me?" Dumbledore prompted.

Harry nodded, still unsure of the wisdom in going to Dumbledore with this.

Looking around the room, it was obvious that the rumors of the old wizard getting sacked were true. He had been in the middle of packing his possessions and there was an air of sorrow about him. Even Fawkes was looking a bit dispirited.

"I think I might know what's been going on with this whole Chamber of Secrets thing." He admitted at last, seeing no alternative but to rely on the Headmaster for help in dealing with the problem.

Dumbledore sat up, suddenly looking far more intense than before.

"Then by all means, tell me."

It was presented like a gentle prompt, but the sudden pressure of Dumbledore's magic made it an order.

Harry swallowed, this was the first time that he'd felt another wizard's magic pressing against his own. It gave the old man an aura of power and authority that no amount of grandfatherly twinkling could hope to hide.

"I'd like to ask you something first." He ventured, continuing when the Headmaster gave him a nod to go ahead. "Is it possible for a wizard to make a phylactery?"

Dumbledore frowned, puzzled. The term was unfamiliar to him, but the level of nervousness he could see the boy across him exuding at the question gave it an ominous weight.

"What is a phylactery?"

"An item in which an evil magic user might hide their soul in to achieve a form of immortality, a soul jar in other words."

Dumbledore could feel his insides going cold at the explanation. How was it possible for the twelve year old boy to know of such dark magics? He was certain that he had purged the Hogwarts Library of any mention of Horcruxes.

"Where did you learn of such things?" He demanded, forgetting his grandfatherly persona for a moment. Harry simply couldn't be allowed to turn evil. The Wizarding World would never survive a struggle between Voldemort and another rising Dark Lord, especially one as powerful as Harry was looking to become.

Harry sank deeper into his chair as Dumbledore's presence swelled further. He tried to apply his nascent knowledge of Occlumency to control his fear, but it was hard. The old wizard was so much stronger than him.

"It's a common theme in muggle fantasy fiction." He explained with far too much squeak in his voice for his taste. "An evil wizard sacrificing his humanity in exchange for power and immortality."

Dumbledore blinked and slowly settled down, aided by a calming song from Fawkes that was probably meant for both wizards.

Muggles had conceived the idea of Horcruxes, all the while believing that magic didn't exist? Or had some whispers of the foul creations survived among them from the times before the Statute of Secrecy? It didn't matter he supposed, what mattered was that Harry had seen fit to come to him to ask about it. While the fact that he even knew that it was possible to make a Horcrux was not at all a good thing, it was heartening that the boy had come to him with this. Dark wizards did not in general come to him for advice on how to perform evil magic.

"Am I to take it then that you believe such a object to be behind this year's troubles?" He asked, his mind already making connections. The last Heir of Slytherin had been Voldemort and a Horcrux of the man would certainly be capable of possessing a student and repeating what had happened fifty years ago.

Harry nodded and drew a thin book out of the Mokeskin Pouch that Dumbledore had noticed he always kept at his waist.

The book was placed on the desk, helpfully signed 'T. M. Riddle' as if to confirm his suspicions.

Just to be sure, Dumbledore cast a few diagnostic charms over the diary even though he already knew what they would tell him. Indeed, the thin book was a cesspit of corrupt magic.

"You have done a great thing to bring this to me, Harry." He said eventually.

He meant it too. Now he finally had confirmation that Voldemort had indeed created Horcruxes. He had only been able to speculate before this. Though the Dark Lord's soul was no doubt a shattered and mangled thing from the abuse he'd put it through with his evil acts, a piece of it would not simply fly off and attach itself to Harry's forehead unless there was something more going on.

The diary must have been created while Tom Riddle was still in school and knowing him as Dumbledore did, he doubted that Voldemort would have been satisfied with just a single Horcrux despite the consequences of creating them.

"How did you come to posses this?"

Harry did his best not to squirm. This was the part that he had really been hoping to avoid, but knew he couldn't. He didn't want to land Ginny in hot water, but he had little doubt that the Ministry wouldn't care about her being possessed if they could imprison Hagrid on evidence so flimsy that it was practically non-existent.

"A student had it." He evaded.

"Ms. Lovegood or Ms. Weasley? Ah, Ms. Weasley." Dumbledore said, taking his cues from Harry's expression and body language.

"She didn't even know it was her." Harry hastened to explain. "She just kept blacking out and guessed that it might be. There's also a compulsion on the diary that was manipulating her to do it and keep quiet."

"I know, Harry." Dumbledore interjected, making a calming motion with his hand. "This is a cursed object left behind by Voldemort and an eleven year old can hardly be expected to perceive it for what it is. No blame shall fall on young Ms. Weasley."

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe the Ministry will be that reasonable." Harry replied cynically.

Dumbledore gave a short sigh at the unfortunate truth of that. Cornelius had not listened to his protestations of Hagrid's innocence, wanting to be seen 'doing something', so it was quite likely that he'd jump on poor Ginny as if she were Voldemort himself. A helpless, eleven year old Voldemort of course. Cornelius had regrettably never been brave enough to actually do something as dangerous as act against a real threat.

"You needn't worry Harry, I will handle the Ministry."

They had no time to deal with that right now however, as the current situation had to be resolved quickly before the Ministry did anything else unutterably stupid, such as offering Lockhart the position of Hogwarts Headmaster. Triumphing over Slytherin's basilisk and revealing that it was a cursed object at work would be enough to restore his reputation and reclaim his position.

Not that he had any intention of actually fighting the basilisk. The ancient serpent's hide would be obscenely magic resistant by now, not to mention its powerful Killing Gaze. A quick apparition to grab a rooster would be the most he planned to exert himself.

That just left the problem of gaining access to the Chamber of Secrets. He'd found it some time ago after learning that he was dealing with a basilisk, but had been unable to open the path. The barrier in Myrtle's bathroom was linked to the wards, but not even the Headmaster could open them. No doubt it would take a Parselmouth.

"I realize that you have done much already Harry, but I find myself in a position where I am forced to ask you to do a little more."

"For example?" Harry asked warily.

"I have discovered where the Chamber of Secrets is, but it takes a Parselmouth to open it." Dumbledore explained and continued before Harry could say anything. "Know that you will be in minimal danger and that I have no intention of engaging the basilisk in battle."

"Couldn't we just leave it alone?" Harry questioned. "I mean, we have the diary. If we destroy it, then there won't be anyone left to open it."

"I left the mystery alone fifty years ago and it has resulted in the current situation." Dumbledore said sorrowfully. "I would rather not risk history repeating itself a third time."

He would also probably not regain his position as Headmaster without some significant achievement. The glory of Grindelwald's defeat that had carried him through the last time was much more distant now, nor had he been Headmaster the last time.

XXXXX

"You know, I'm not sure we could make a less epic start to the slaying of a powerful monster if we tried." Harry grumbled as he walked into the girl's bathroom behind Dumbledore, a live rooster in his hands.

"How so, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, amused in spite of the dire situation.

"You're wearing bright yellow robes, I'm carrying a chicken, and we're going into a girl's bathroom." The boy replied dryly.

"Rooster." The much older wizard corrected.

"It sounds like the start of a dirty joke." Harry continued, ignoring the correction. "'A boy walks into a girl's bathroom holding an old man's cock.'"

Dumbledore stopped and looked at his student strangely before finally speaking. "I presume that this is Ms. Lovegood's influence?"

"It would be something she'd say, isn't it?" Harry admitted with a slight blush.

Luna would probably be entirely clueless about the sexual connotations though. Or at least she'd be pretending to be clueless. Harry wasn't sure yet whether his blonde friend was really as oblivious as she acted.

"Indeed. Her father was, and I presume still is, the same."

"Why are we in a girl's bathroom anyway?"

"I have been able to deduce that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in here, by the sinks."

"Salazar Slytherin put the entrance to his Chamber of Secrets in a girl's bathroom?" Harry asked incredulously.

"It would appear so."

"He was either very cunning or a pedophile."

"The truth is a wonderful and terrible thing and probably best left unknown in this case." Dumbledore said, gesturing towards the sink with the snake carving. "Command it to open in Parseltongue if you would, Harry."

Harry focused on the image of a snake in his mind just like he'd practiced and spoke. "Open!"

The circular array of sinks separated and revealed a long tunnel into the dark.

Harry peered into the depths, a question forming in his mind.

"If you knew the entrance was here, why didn't you simply blast it open?"

"Alas, magic is rarely so straightforward." Dumbledore explained. "Had I done so, all I would have to show for it is a ruined bathroom and no secret entrance."

The only reason he hadn't asked Harry for help sooner was a desire to not involve the boy in such a dangerous matter. Unfortunately, his caution had availed him nothing save to place the death of another student on his conscience.

"I will ask you to go no further Harry, but there may be other Parseltongue locked doors in the Chamber." He said, looking down at the boy.

"Let's just get this over with." Harry sighed, staring down into the dark hole.

Moaning Myrtle chose this moment to pop out of her preferred cubicle.

"If you die down there, you can share my toilet." She offered.

"Thank you Myrtle, that is most generous of you." Dumbledore said and jumped into the hole.

Given the choice between a creepily giggling ghost and a dark hole leading to one of the most dangerous monsters in the magical world, Harry swiftly followed.

XXXXX

Harry slid out of the tunnel after a fairly exhilirating ride, shoes crunching on the bones of countless small animals.

"Well this isn't creepy at all." He muttered sarcastically.

"Quite," Dumbledore agreed, quickly casting a few cleaning charms to remove the filth they'd picked up during their slide. "Come Harry, but be cautious. If you see or hear anything, shut your eyes."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Harry agreed and followed the old wizard deeper into the chamber.

It didn't take them long to come across a massive discarded snake skin.

"It is even larger than I thought." Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

"Do all basilisks get this big?" Harry asked, staring at the skin with wide eyes. He hugged the rooster a bit more tightly, knowing that it was the key to this mad venture.

"There has never been a record of a basilisk living this long." Dumbledore explained. "I suspect that they never stop growing."

They moved on and reached another Parseltongue sealed door, beyond which lay the Chamber proper.

"This guy really had a thing for snakes." Harry observed, noting the many serpent statues lining the walkway.

"Indeed." Dumbledore agreed and gestured for Harry to give him the rooster. "The basilisk must be very close now, would you be so kind as to give me back my cock now?"

Harry gave a nervous chuckle as he did so, recognizing the humour for what it was, an attempt to relieve some tension.

They stalked forward slowly, Dumbledore keeping his wand trained on the rooster held in his other hand, ready to compell it to crow at a moment's notice.

"Professor, I just had a thought." Harry said quietly.

"Yes, Harry?"

"The crow of a rooster seems like an awfully specific vulnerability, not really something likely to occur naturally."

"You would not be the first to wonder about that. Despite logic indicating otherwise, that particular weakness is not bred into the creatures deliberately. Rather, it is a result of the nature of its hatching. Something about the process makes a rooster's crow resonate fatally with the basilisk's own magic." Dumbledore lectured.

"So there's no chance of it being immune then?" Harry asked, much relieved.

"No Harry, you can rest assured that my cock is stronger than Slytherin's snake." The old wizard assured, beard twitching with his smile.

Harry snorted in amusement. He might be wary of Dumbledore and the manipulative streak that his grandparents had warned him of, but at least he had a sense of humour.

"Intruders in the nest? Not the master. Food? So hungry. Smells good."

The hiss resonated across the chamber, too low for human hearing but perfectly audible to a Parselmouth.

And also to the rooster, which squawked in reply.

The hissing stopped for a moment before returning with a vengeance.

"BIRD BIRD BIRD! SERPENT KILLER. NO NO NO NO, WON'T DIE. CAN'T RUN. NOWHERE TO RUN. MUST KILL!"

"Get ready!" Harry called urgently, alarmed by the half-mad rambling of the basilisk. "It's coming right at us!"

Dumbledore nodded, hearing the rapid movement of the enourmous snake through the tunnels built into the sides of the Chamber. He waited only a moment longer before casting a compulsion on the rooster and forcing it to crow.

The basilisk let out a hissing roar as the crowing echoed through the Chamber before smashing heavily into the ground off to the side, also making a large splash in the shallow water.

Harry and Dumbledore waited tensely for any sign that the basilisk was still alive. A full minute passed before they relaxed and started moving warily towards the place where they'd heard the crash.

"Do not look it in the eyes, they may still have some power even in death." Dumbledore warned.

"Got it." Harry acknowledged.

They found the massive carcass quickly enough, looking more like a dark grey rock formation than a snake.

"I guess that's it then." Harry said, still jittery with nerves from the oddly anti-climatic finish.

"Almost, there is one more thing to do." Dumbledore said as he handed the rooster back to Harry and drew out the diary.

"What are you going to do with that?" Harry asked.

"Aside from being incredibly potent, basilisk venom is also known to have a corrosive effect on magic. If my guess is correct, it should have the ability to destroy Voldemort's diary." Dumbledore explained.

It would also save him a great deal of questions from the Ministry about unauthorized uses of Fiendfyre.

Harry said nothing and simply watched as the much older wizard approached the basilisk's mouth, taking care not to look at the eyes. With a wave of his wand, he forced open the massive jaw, revealing a mouth full of fangs instead of the usual toothless mouth of a snake. With a quick Accio, one of the fangs was pulled out and driven through the diary. The wail released by the booklet was confirmation that the Horcrux was destroyed.

"What about the basilisk?" Harry asked once it was done.

"What of it?" Dumbledore blinked.

"Could we sell it?"

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. He'd been so focused on killing the beast and regaining his position as Headmaster that he hadn't thought of it, but the boy definitely had a point. For a basilisk of this size and age, half the Potion Masters and magical leatherworkers in Europe would beggar themselves before it was completely harvested and sold, which was a process likely to take several years. The eyes alone would net an astronomical sum.

Hogwarts could certainly use the funding, not to mention the Order of the Phoenix in the event that Voldemort's return proved impossible to prevent. It would make it easier to regain his Headmaster position if he came bearing gifts.

"An excellent point, Harry." He said.

"You said that the hide is magic resistant?" Harry asked speculatively, eyeballing the craggy dark grey scales. He rather liked the color.

"Extremely so." Dumbledore confirmed.

"I've heard about dragonhide robes, would it be possible to make them out of basilisk hide?"

"It would. They would not be as impact resistant as dragonhide, but they would be much more magic resistant."

"I'll claim enough of its hide to make a few adult sized sets then and samples of any useful ingredients harvested if I ever decide to make use of them, such as the venom. The rest of it we can sell. I'm assuming that my share can easily be delivered to my Gringotts vault?"

"Your share?" Dumbledore echoed, surprised by the mercenary statement.

"Of course, 50%. You found the Chamber, but I opened it and neither one of us can really claim to have done the lion's share of the work since we killed the bloody thing with a rooster. You get to take whatever you want from the carcass before we sell it of course, what with both of us having equal claim to the body." Harry continued happily.

"There is more to life than galleons, Harry." The old wizard sighed, disappointed by the decidedly unheroic greed that the boy was displaying right now.

"And all those other things in life are made easier with galleons." Harry countered. After getting ripped off by the goblins that first time, he was no longer willing to let easy profit slip through his fingers. "You didn't think I was going to hold your cock for free, did you?"

"I...very well." Dumbledore capitulated and shook his head with a weak smile at the joke. He couldn't afford to alienate the boy over something so trivial, especially when he was entitled by law to claim a share due to his aid in slaying the beast.

XXXXX

"If I may have your attention, please." Dumbledore said just before the evening meal that very same day.

The Great Hall quieted and turned its attention to him curiously.

"I know that the year has been difficult, filled with fear and sorrow, but now it is over. Earlier in the day, Harry Potter and myself have at last unraveled the mystery behind the Chamber of Secrets."

The student body burst into excited murmurs for a moment before settling down again to listen to the old Headmaster.

"The mythical monster said to be hidden in the Chamber was a basilisk, whose lair was most cleverly hidden. Mr. Potter and myself found it and ventured into the Chamber this very morning, slaying the beast in its lair."

"But who was the Heir?" Someone yelled out.

"Voldemort." He replied, resisting the urge to sigh as practically everyone in the Great Hall flinched, yelped, screamed or otherwise displayed an unseemly level of fear over a name. "A cursed object he had left behind had possessed a student and forced them to open the Chamber. The name of the student in question will remain secret unless they wish to inform you themselves."

Another bout of murmuring spread through the students, this time speculation on the identity of the possessed party.

"Additionally, for the next few days Hogwarts will be hosting several wizards and witches specializing in the harvesting of large magical animals. I request that you do not get in their way. That will be all from me right now, thank you."

That should do the trick. The legend of the Boy-Who-Lived would grow, as would the enmity between him and Voldemort. His own involvement and connection to Harry would ensure that he would be able to retain his position as Headmaster without any overt difficulty.

Lucius Malfoy would no doubt try to protest, but Dumbledore knew how to handle Lucius.

It truly was unfortunate that the re-opening of the Chamber had resulted in another death, but he had not dared to close the school. The then-unknown Heir of Slytherin would have been set loose on the world in that case. Terry Boot's death was unfortunate, but it was better than the many other deaths that a resurrected sixteen year old Voldemort would have caused.

XXXXX

Harry, Luna and Ginny had almost made it up the first flight of stairs towards Ravenclaw tower before they were halted.

"Potter!"

Harry's face twitched with irritation at the sound of Draco Malfoy's outraged yell. Of course the blond idiot would take offense to having the attacks on muggleborns ended. Why had he even entertained the idea that Malfoy might be clever enough to be less obvious about his prejudices?

Turning around, the three of them saw the huffing and puffing second year stomping up the stairs, no doubt intending to get in Harry's face about his part in putting an end to the whole debacle.

Harry had no desire to deal with the idiot, so he focused his will and launched a weak, wandless banishing spell at Malfoy's leg.

The leg was thrown back, completely destroying the blond's footing and sending him crashing face first into the stairs. He managed to catch himself with his hands before he actually got hurt, unfortunately.

"Maybe you should learn to walk on even ground before trying to tackle stairs, Malfoy." Harry mocked, taking an inordinate amount of glee in the blond's humiliation. He'd been insufferable ever since Halloween. More insufferable than normal at any rate.

"You tripped me!" Malfoy accused angrily.

"With what?" Harry asked sarcastically, raising his hands to show that they were empty. "My mastery of wandless magic?"

There were some giggles from a few students who'd seen the whole thing, causing Draco to flush in angry humiliation.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Harry restarted his speedy retreat to his room. He had no doubt that everyone and their mother would want to know the whole story and he wasn't sure that his reputation for being unapproachable was going to be a sufficient shield.

XXXXX

Harry closed the door to his room with a feeling of relief.

What in the bloody fucking hell had Dumbledore been thinking, announcing that to the entire school? He'd felt like a germ under a microscope with the way that people had stared at him all the way through dinner. Luna and Ginny's stares had been the worst, silently willing him to explain.

Was this supposed to be some kind of payback for the 30% share of the profits on the sale of the carcass he'd claimed?

His stewing was interrupted by an insistent knocking on his door.

Harry sighed, knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Resigned he opened the door and was placed into bewilderment as a tiny redhead grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Thank you." She mumbled.

"You're, uh, welcome." Harry replied with an akward pat on the back. Ginny had been a bit twitchy ever since he'd taken the diary away from her, so he could guess that its destruction had helped her somehow, but he still had no idea how to deal with this.

"Did you really have to kill that poor, lonely basilisk, Harry?" Luna asked sadly.

"It was going to eat us." He said dryly, recalling the creature's mutterings before it had detected the rooster.

"Oh poo, and I so wanted a basilisk friend."

Ginny finally let go at that point, looking up at him curiously despite her blush. "How did you even kill it?"

"Dumbledore got a rooster from somewhere. It wasn't as dangerous as he made it sound."

"Could I have an interview, Harry?" Luna asked excitedly, her previous dismay over the serpent's death forgotten. "Daddy is sure to want to write an article about how you and Headmaster Dumbledore used your cock to slay Slytherin's ancient snake."

Harry turned his eyes skyward with a sigh, somehow not even surprised that Luna had once again managed to be so innocently crass. He'd been expecting it really.

XXXXX

February 14th

Harry had barely left his room for the whole day, rightly fearing the level of attention he would get on this day.

Ginny had been acting extra weird for the past few days. No doubt she'd be upset about his refusal to even show his face on what was supposedly the most romantic day of the year, but that was her own problem. Her crush had somehow managed to become both better and worse after the diary situation was resolved.

Better, because she was less obvious about it most of the time and worse because it had apparently solidified into some kind of emotional jawbreaker. He rather thought that the girl needed counseling to deal with the fact that her body had been used to kill someone, but the Wizarding World had apparently never heard of psychiatry. Instead, Ginny seemed to have convinced herself that everything would be fine as long as he was there. Seeing as his paricipation in destroying the phylactery had been minimal, this belief seemed a tad unjustified to Harry.

Ginny was just going to have to learn how to deal with the disappointment, because he simply had no romantic interest in her and didn't see that changing. Her bouts of sullen jealousy were even starting to put a strain on their friendship despite Luna's best efforts at playing the intermediary.

The cause of much of this jealousy was his continued interest in the older girls, especially the one who had sent him that picture.

He didn't even know her name, but he had trouble looking her in the eye. Ever since Dumbledore's announcement, she'd been prone to winking at him whenever she caught him looking at her. She clearly had no trouble with her self-confidence, but Harry had no idea how to deal with it, so he tended to just blush in embarrassment.

His rune enhanced libido made him want to talk to her and see what happened, but he was still twelve. Talking to a seventeen year old girl that had given him a naughty picture was way outside of his comfort zone.

Either way, he had dreaded Valentine's day and decided to avoid any embarrassing situations by keeping himself locked up in his room.

He'd spent most of the day eating the steady stream of snacks provided by the house elves and meditating.

According to the book he'd found there were two ways to learn Occlumency. The quick way and the slow way.

The quick way involved getting a skilled Legilimancer to brutally and repeatedly violate your mind until you developed an instinctive defensive reaction and threw the invader out of your mind.

Aside from Aul'El preventing this approach, Harry had not been overly keen on the idea even if he could have found someone to do this to him. It sounded incredibly unpleasant and wouldn't even help to achieve his goals. He didn't need to train his subconscious into a viciously territorial attack dog, he needed to tame it.

The slow way involved a lot of sitting still and trying to clear your thoughts.

Harry had been at it for months and would have long since given up if he didn't know that there was a point to it.

The meditation had helped to control his angry outbursts to some degree, but so far he hadn't managed to sink into the trance-like state that the book had described.

Until now that was.

After hours of struggling with the concept of 'letting go', Harry had just been so tired of it all.

His irritation with Ginny's crush, the embarrassment having gotten caught staring at several of the older girls, the frustrated lust of a pubescent boy that was exceedingly unlikely to get fulfilled anytime soon, the distant worry of being number one on Voldemort's hit list, the restless desire to explore magic away from the restrictions of Hogwarts and the Ministry, the impatience at his slow progress with wandless magic, the yearning to perform another ritual and countless other things.

In his frustration with all the messy complications of life, his mind had wandered. He'd started thinking about how ultimately pointless it all was. Humanity was just one species, on one ball of rock, orbiting one star, in one galaxy. They could all get wiped out tomorrow and the Universe wouldn't even notice.

Somewhere during his ruminations, he'd left his worldly concerns behind and begun drifting lazily through a comfortable emptiness. It was like a mental safe place where nothing could reach him.

A good twenty minutes later, Harry came out of the trance and smiled even as the ache in his lower back and the hunger in his stomach ruined the sense of peace he'd felt.

He had managed the first – and arguably the hardest – part of Occlumency.

XXXXX

June 2nd

Potions class had become almost pleasant for a while after the basilisk was killed, mostly because Snape was in an ebulient mood over getting to experiment with fresh basilisk parts that Dumbledore had given him access to. Even more so when the headmaster also gave him access to phoenix tears to neutralize the venom's magic destroying properties and see what could be done with it.

It hadn't lasted long of course, as this was Snape we were talking about. The dour man's relatively good cheer dissipated in about a month, returning him back to his default factory setting.

Still, Harry couldn't really complain too much about Potions. Yes, Snape was kind of a bastard and unnecessarily harsh with students, but he was still better than Binns or Lockhart. Even a bastard with no idea how to teach properly could impart some of his knowledge, whereas Binns was basically a sleeping spell given form and Lockhart would have been better served giving fashion tips in a Witch Weekly column.

The usual tense atmosphere that Snape imparted to a classroom was shattered by a disgustingly cheerful knocking.

Snape had only a moment to glare at the door and wonder which idiot thought it a good idea to interrupt his lesson before the idiot in question simply barged in.

"Good day, Professor Snape." Gilderoy Lockhart said jauntily, oblivious to the mood. "Please excuse the interruption, but I'm sure you'll understand once I've told you what this is about."

"I quiver with anticipation." Snape drawled coldly, displeasure dripping from every syllable.

It flew straight over Lockhart's head. "I've arranged for myself and Mr. Potter to have an interview with a reporter from The Daily Prophet regarding the events of the year, so I'm sure you'll see fit to excuse him from his lesson."

Snape turned his menacing black eyes on the boy in question, a string of insults and mockery already on his tongue.

"You arranged for me to have an interview without even asking my permission?" Harry demanded with his face flushed angrily, beating Snape to the punch. "Were you born this stupid, or did it take specialized training?"

Lockhart seemed taken aback by the hostility, clearly unable to understand how anyone could be upset about being able to talk to reporters.

Snape was mildly impressed by the venom and disdain that Potter had managed to put into his retort, not that he was ever going to admit it.

"Go with him and handle this, Potter." He said instead. "I'll thank you not to let your fame intrude on my lessons in the future."

Snape observed the boy's thunderous expression with interest. This level of provocation would have resulted in an explosion earlier in the year. Albus was clearly correct. Potter was practicing Occlumency.

XXXXX

".... Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has been receiving private tutoring from famed author and monster hunter, Gilderoy Lockhart...."

Harry fumed as he read the article that the baboon of a DADA teacher had contrived to put into the Daily Prophet.

After getting sent out of class by Snape, he'd summarily ditched Lockhart and gone to the library, leaving the fop to deal with the press himself.

Clearly, the man was so desperate to leech off his fame that he was willing to risk outright lying. Well, two could play that game.

XXXXX

Ministry of Magic,

Depatment of Magical Law Enforcement

To whom it may concern,

I have recently become worried about certain goings on in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and felt that they should be brought to your attention. I have reason to suspect that the current Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, one Gilderoy Lockhart, is abusing his position of authority in order to extort sexual favors from the sixth and seventh year female students.

He has proven himself an inept teacher over the course of the year and many students across all seven years have stopped attending his classes. Those who remain are mostly girls, which seems suspicious to me.

It may be that the troubles experienced by Hogwarts earlier in the year are making me see foul deeds where there are none, but I implore you to investigate nonetheless.

Signed,

A concerned student.

Harry finished writing the letter with a sense of vindictive satisfaction. A similar letter going out to the Daily Prophet would make sure that it would be investigated even if the DMLE was initially inclined to dismiss the letter.

The reporters would tear strips out of the Ministry if such a claim wasn't investigated and they would tear strips out of Lockhart regardless simply because they were reporters.

The charges were entirely fabricated of course, but that made little difference. The media shitstorm would almost certainly cost Lockhart his job and reputation even if the man was squeaky clean(which Harry strongly doubted was the case).

That would show that pompous windbag to try using him to boost his own fame. He'd been trying to get Harry alone ever since the year started, but had redoubled his efforts since the fiasco with the basilisk. The surprise interview he'd attempted to spring had simply been the last straw.

XXXXX

"Following a brief but thorough investigation by the DMLE, Gilderoy Lockhart has been charged with numerous illegal uses of the memory charm, as well as abuse of his position as a Hogwarts Professor." Dumbledore was saying to the Great Hall.

The students launched into a flurry of murmuring, whispering and general speculation, stopping only when the Headmaster cleared his throat to once again get everyone's attention.

"As he will be spending the next sixty odd years in Azkaban, the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor is now vacant. Seeing as the school year is nearly over, there is little point in replacing him, but I am sure that you will be able to manage the remainder of your studies on your own."

There were several loud snorts at this, not all of them from the students. Anyone who had gotten anything DADA related done this year had done it on their own.

"As a final note, the Ministry would like to thank the concerned student who alerted them of this and are offering a reward if they come forth and are able to prove their identity. That is all, tuck in."

While the rest of the Great Hall once again erupted into furious conversation, Harry merely looked stunned.

The 'fabricated' charges he'd leveled at Lockhart had actually been true?

"Blimey."

XXXXX

Last night before the students leave.

The door to Harry Potter's room opened quietly and then closed with equal silence.

The late night intruder who had done the opening and closing padded over to the bed on silence charmed feet. There was s short rustle of cloth and then the intruder grabbed the edge of the quilt and very slowly lifted it away from the sleeping boy.

Harry had never had any reason to be a particularly light sleeper and so remained firmly unconscious.

He continued sleeping even as the bed dipped under the extra weight of another body and the quilt was pulled back over both of them.

It was only as a mildly cold hand was dragged over his ticklish abdomen that he began waking.

His thoughts were decidedly foggy for a few seconds, having stayed up fairly late because of his Occlumency practice and only slipping into a deep sleep a short while ago as a consequence, but he did eventually cotton on to the fact that his bed was rather more crowded than normal.

"Hello Harry." Said the witch who had shown such concern about the polish of his wand with her Christmas present.

"Hi." Harry replied in the cracked voice of emerging manhood. He most definitely did not squeak and anyone who said otherwise was spreading slander.

"I've seen you looking at me, Harry." She whispered into his ear hotly, rubbing one of her bare legs across his.

"Uhm, sorry?" Harry managed, any sense of eloquence lost. From what he could feel, she was wearing the very same nightie that had been the fuel of so many wand polishing sessions this year.

"Well aren't you precious?" She chuckled, running her hand over his chest. "Were you this shy when you faced Slytherin's basilisk?"

"That was different." He rallied, not liking being called shy in typical teenaged fashion even if he wasn't one quite yet according to his age. "I had a cock with me."

The innuendo only dawned on him once it was too late.

Her hand slipped into the boxers that served as his sleepwear and wrapped around the one part of him that was fully at attention. "Feels like you have one with you right now."

Harry went as rigid as if he'd been hit with a pretrification spell.

"You might be wondering why I'm here." She went on with a smile that was barely visible in the dark, gently fondling what she'd grabbed earlier.

That had been a distant question in his mind. As far as the rest of him was concerned, the unannounced visit of a pretty girl in his bed was not to be questioned, especially after she'd stuck her hand in his underwear.

He wasn't really up to speech anymore, but he did manage a nod.

She pressed herself closer up against him and her fondling became more vigorous. "Well, I just thought that you deserved a proper reward. Do you want it?"

Nod nod.

"I want to hear you say it." She insisted huskily. "Tell me that you want it."

He swallowed thickly, embarrassment at an all time high. "I want it."

"Louder Harry, say it like you mean it."

"I want it!"

"Good, good. Now just relax and let me take care of you."

He did as he was told and very quickly made a mess in his boxers.

Harry drew in deep breaths as she continued to squeeze her fist every other second, making his discharge run over her fingers.

"You wouldn't happen to have had anything to do with Lockhart getting arrested, did you?" She asked after a few minutes.

"I was the one that sent the letter to the DMLE." He admitted instantly.

"How did you know that he was fooling around with the upper year girls?" She asked curiously.

"I didn't, I just wanted to get him in trouble." He once again admitted instantly.

She let out a giggle. "And here I thought you were protecting our virtue."

Harry flushed at her teasing tone. "I would've sent the letter sooner if I'd known."

"Don't worry about it, Harry. Those bimboes have no one but themselves to blame for buying into his lies."

All this talk about a teacher sleeping with his students brought Harry's mind around to the fact that he was twelve and that what had just happened was almost certainly illegal.

"Er, you won't get in trouble for, um, this, will you?" He asked nervously.

"Were you going to tell on me, Harry?" She teased.

"No." He was quick to assure.

"Such a gentleman." She teased some more, though Harry wasn't sure if he could really be called a gentleman in this case. "But no, there won't be any legal trouble even if someone does find out. The magical world has a much looser interpretation of the age of consent than the muggle one and it's also assumed that strapping young wizards like yourself wouldn't refuse the attentions of an older witch in any case."

Well, that explained the lack of gender wards on the doors of the boys rooms. Lockhart must have gotten in trouble for it because he was a teacher then.

"That's good to hear." Harry said for lack of anything better. He was keenly aware that she had not yet removed her hand from his member.

"I'd best get going." She said about half a minute later, removing her hand from his underwear, reaching for her wand and using a quick scourgify to remove the mess on it.

Harry stared openly as she bent over to pick up her robes, giving him a very nice view of her rear end in the process.

Being famous definitely had its upsides.

"I don't even know your name." He said once she was dressed.

"Probably better that way." She replied instead of answering the implied question. Then she leaned over him and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"I hope you enjoyed the wand polishing lesson, Harry." She teased, smirking at his stunned look. "I hope the 'supplies' I gave you for Christmas help you keep it in top shape."

She left after that, leaving the shocked Harry to stare after her for quite some time before he snapped out of it.

Maybe it was because he'd just woken up, or the fact that he hadn't had any control of the situation, but the kiss had somehow had more impact than the handjob.

Based on the concealing robes, Harry had figured that the Wizarding World was full of prudes. While he had never been more glad to be wrong, this definitely bore further investigation.

XXXXX

"What are you smiling about?" Ginny asked on the train ride back to King's Cross.

"Just a pleasant memory." Harry answered, his smile not fading.

"It must have been quite relaxing." Luna observed. "You're not usually this mellow. "

"You could say that." He agreed after a moment, inordinately proud of himself for not blushing.

"What was it?" Ginny asked curiously.

"Something magical." He joked.

"Fine then, keep your secrets." Ginny huffed.

That was exactly what Harry intended to do, even if telling the redhead that he'd gotten a midnight handjob would probably put her off the silly crush she was still nursing. It was equally likely that it would make her all indignant and outraged, or worse, determined to invade his bed in the middle of the night as well.

XXXXX

"There's my daddy." Luna said happily, pointing at a tall and thin man with shoulder length hair that was completely white and who somehow managed to dress even more eccentrically than Dumbledore.

"And there's my parents." Ginny chimed in, pointing at two redheads. Not that it was necessary, seeing as another four Weasleys were making their way over to them.

"Come on, Harry. I want to introduce you." Luna chirped, dragging her friend over to her father.

"Okay." Harry agreed bemusedly. Luna wasn't usually so forceful, so he figured that she must really want this.

"Daddy." She squealed once she was close enough to hug her father, letting go of Harry's arm in the process.

"Hello again, turnip." The man replied, returning the hug gladly.

Harry watched the whole thing a bit awkwardly, but still smiled. The two were obviously close, which was not something he could really relate to, but he was happy for his friend.

"This is my friend, Harry Potter. And you already know Ginny." Luna said after a few moments, gesturing to them.

"Wonderful! I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, call me Xeno. Would you like to go snorkack hunting with us over the summer?"

"Errr...." Harry stammered, completely taken aback by the sudden invitation. At least it wasn't the usual Boy-Who-lived reaction that he'd grown to dislike so much. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm afraid I can't. I've got a lot to do over the summer."

"Same here." Ginny quickly added.

"Some other time then." Xeno said cheerfully. "It was nice meeting you, Harry."

"Likewise, Mr. Lovegood." Harry replied.

"Xeno." The man corrected.

"Xeno." Harry repeated agreeably, finding himself liking the strange man's manner.

Luna and her father made their goodbyes after that and left.

"Right, let's go meet my parents then." Ginny said after a moment.

Harry simply nodded, not at all looking forward to that. Molly Weasley's semi-frequent howlers hadn't given him a particularly grand impression of the woman. It would be rude to avoid it though.

They didn't even make it to the gathering of redheads before the twins started in on their routine.

"Well look who it is!"

"The Ravenclaw Weasley-"

"-Come to mingle with us simpleminded Gryffindors."

"We are honored by your intellectual presence, m'lady!"

"Shut up!" Ginny yelled at them, embarrassed by the teasing.

"Fred, George, lay off." The plump matron warned

"But of course, Mother." They chorused and continued on regardless.

"We wouldn't dare embarrass ickle Gin-Gin-"

"-in front of the Harry Potter."

Harry aimed an annoyed look at them. The twins might be good for a few laughs, but sometimes they really didn't know when to stop.

"Then you are....?" The father of the bunch breathed, further annoying Harry with his awed reaction.

"Yes, Harry Potter." Harry interjected. "It's been a pleasure meeting you Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, but I'm going to have to run. My ride is probably getting impatient."

Molly looked like she was about to say something more, but apparently decided against it, allowing Harry to escape the family of redheads without any further fuss. He could still hear Ginny voicing her displeasure at the twins even as he stepped through the portal to the muggle side of the station.

Ginny had already asked him if he wanted to spend part of the summer at the Burrow, and he was more glad than ever to have refused. He was sure that the Weasleys were good people, if a bit too pushy at times, but living in the same house as them would have quickly driven him spare. If the lack of privacy didn't get him, it would be the lack of quiet.

Besides, if he hung around with them, how was he supposed to get anything technically illegal done?

Chapter Text

Harry walked through the door of his foster home with a faint sense of resignation. He would have much rather skipped the hollow reunion routine that Robert and Katherine were no doubt going to be intent on going through even though there was nobody to see it.

"I'm home." He announced without enthusiasm.

He heard them coming a second later.

"Welcome....back?" Robert said, trailing off in confusion as he took in the changes in his adopted son.

"What are they feeding you at that school of yours?" Katherine asked, sounding genuinely amazed. "You're huge!"

Harry shifted awkwardly. The Weasleys hadn't commented on his size, probably out of politeness and Xeno Lovegood may not even have registered anything strange, but he knew that he was too big for his age. He might be just shy of thirteen years old, but he looked closer to fifteen thanks to the runes. He'd even caught the first hints of facial hair growing on his chin a while ago. To the Shaws, who hadn't seen him for ten months, the difference in his appearance must be massive.

"Just a growth spurt I guess."

Katherine came closer, reaching out to touch the mess that was his hair. It too was growing faster than normal and now hung just above his shoulders. It was currently at that annoying midway length where it was long enough to be annoying, but not quite long enough to be put into a ponytail.

"And your hair is a complete mess again." She fussed. "We'll have to get it cut soon."

Harry leaned away from her, not even bothering to be annoyed anymore. Of course she'd be worried about appearances right away. He'd stopped hoping for a hug by the time he was nine. That, and her perfume was stirring up his libido, which was still creepy.

"I was actually thinking of growing it long." He told her, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in the appalled expressions it got him.

"No son of ours will be going around looking like some long-haired hooligan." Robert said firmly, his wife nodding in agreement.

Harry's expression brielfy twisted in irritation at their narrow-mindedness. Fortunately, he'd prepared some countermeasures ahead of time.

Not for the sake of his hair mind you, but it would be a good test.

Taking a deep breath, Harry used the months of Occlumency practice to suffuse his mind with a feeling of calm. Then he focused it and sent a pair of wandless calming spells at his foster parents.

"It's really not that big of a deal." He said in a conversational tone that hid his anxiety to see if it had worked. "We're not in the 1950s anymore, lots of men wear their hair long these days."

"I guess it won't be a problem if you style it properly." Katherine agreed with some reluctance.

Robert was still frowning however, clearly more resistant to either the idea or the effects of the spell. "I still think it would be better to keep it short."

Harry sent another calming spell at him, feeling incredibly pleased with the fact that it produced no flashy jets of light.

"Men frequently wear their hair long in the Wizarding World. It's tradition."

A tradition for Heirs and Lords of Noble Houses that had pretty much died out and which Harry didn't give two shits about, but he needed to test how much he could bend the wills of his nominal guardians. If he could use this to talk them into not objecting to him keeping his hair long, then he might also be able to use it to dodge any kind of responsibility for the whole summer.

Illegal? Mildly.

Immoral? Definitely.

"Alright." Robert capitulated, being a proponent of tradition. "But only if you get it styled into something elegant instead of the rat's nest it is now."

Convenient? Extremely.

XXXXX

Harry stared at the row of hair products in consternation, wondering if long hair was really worth it if he had to bother with all that crap. Maybe the Wizarding World had some kind of enchanted soap that simplified hair care? It probably did, he'd noticed a trend in the differences between the magical and non-magical. The magical world made small things incredibly convenient, but lacked wide scale sophistication, whereas the non-magical world excelled at large projects but contained numerous day to day inconveniances that couldn't simply be magicked away.

His introduction to the inconveniances of the non-magical female had been arranged by his foster mother. Calming spells might have worked to convince her that there was nothing wrong with a boy having long hair, but that was because she'd been upset about his refusal to comply and her personal dislike of the practice.

Convincing Katherine that it didn't need to be fastidiously taken care of would have taken an Imperious. She had seemingly decided that if he was going to keep the long hair, then they were going to make a day of it.

Harry had not been that bored in a long time and spent most of the day practicing his Occlumency. How women could find that enjoyable was beyond him. He had to admit that he had enjoyed having a pretty hairdresser massaging his scalp though, slightly embarrassing though the trip to the obviously female targeted business had been.

At least he'd managed to buy that high-powered laptop he'd been meaning to get in addition to learning entirely too much about hair care. Now if only he could figure out how get a charger running in Potter Manor. Enchanting an object into being some kind of self-propelling dynamo wouldn't be a problem for him at this point, but putting together a gizmo to take advantage of it would be.

XXXXX

Charlus and Dorea had been eager to hear how the Chamber of Secrets business had been concluded and were amazed that Harry had participated in the slaying of an ancient basilisk, even if it was with a rooster. They were also quite proud of him for making a profit out of instead of letting Dumbledore claim the entire carcass.

"Whoever slipped your friend that cursed diary must have been a Death Eater." Dorea theorized.

"And Dobby was probably their house elf." Charlus added.

"Probably." Harry agreed.

"I can only be thankful that their foolishness resulted in Voldemort's soul container being destroyed." Dorea said with a shudder. "It does not bear thinking of that he might have returned if such things function as you said, Harry."

"No mention of soul containers in the Black Library?" Charlus asked.

"There very well might be, my family would certainly not think twice about keeping knowledge of such foul magic alive." Dorea replied with a distasteful frown. "It was not something I had ever considered reading up on, nor did my Head of House at the time allow me free access to the library since I was not of the main line."

"I guess we should just be glad that Voldemort didn't get a chance to regain his body." Charlus said with a sigh.

"Would I be able to access the Black Library?" Harry asked thoughtfully. He knew that creating a phylactery himself more than likely carried a steeper price than he was willing to pay, but he still wanted to learn about it. Dumbledore was the only person who seemed to know anything about the subject and asking him didn't strike Harry as a smart thing to do.

Neither Charlus nor Dorea were too happy about the direction of Harry's interests right now, but they weren't really people. They were portraits, and family portraits are always made to help the still living members of the family. Since Harry was the last Potter, they were compelled to obey his orders and answer his questions regardless of their own opinions.

"No, you were never keyed into the wards. The war with Voldemort has not been kind to the House of Black; most of its members are dead and the rest in prison. I believe that Sirius is next in line to become Lord Black, but he is currently rotting in Azkaban." Dorea finished bitterly.

Harry had done some investigating into his parents and their friends after being told about them by his grandparents. That was why he knew that Pettigrew was dead, that Remus Lupin had seemingly vanished off the face of the Earth and that Sirius Black was in Azkaban for betraying his parents to Voldemort, as well as the murder of twelve muggles and Peter Pettigrew.

Sirius had been like a son to her and Charlus, they would have adopted him if it wasn't for inter-House politics. The idea that he would have betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort was ludicrous. The memories that Harry had unlocked after performing his second ritual had only reinforced that belief. After all, why would Sirius have just given Harry to Hagrid if he had really been in Voldemort's service?

No, whatever had happened that night, they were certain that Sirius was innocent of betraying the Potters. The charges of murdering Pettigrew and twelve muggles were harder to dismiss however, especially if Pettigrew was the real traitor. Sirius had always been a hothead and it was far from impossible that he might have thrown out a careless blasting curse in the throes of rage.

"You must have been quite the school hero for the rest of the year after that." Charlus said with forced amusement, trying to move away from the depressing topic.

"You could say that." Harry grumbled a bit, though a smile pulled at his lips. Most of the school might have been annoyingly curious, but his mysterious late night visitor had certainly made up for it with her particular show of gratitude.

"Did any girls get crushes on you?" Dorea teased.

Harry shrugged, though he couldn't quite keep a tinge of pink off his cheeks. Aside from Ginny, he wasn't aware of any crushes, but that wasn't what he was thinking about.

"I know that look." Charlus said with a grin. "James and Sirius always had the same shifty look on their faces when they'd just been having a discussion about witches and didn't want us to know about it. What happened, Harry? Did a pretty girl show you her gratitude with a kiss?"

"Yes." Harry admitted, electing not to mention what had happened before the kiss.

"Who was she?" Dorea asked curiously.

"I, er, don't know."

"How can you not know?" Charlus asked, baffled. "Surely she didn't just walk up to you, kiss you, and then leave without ever introducing herself?"

No, she just snuck into my room in the middle of the night, gave me a handjob, kissed me and left without introducing herself. Harry thought to himself with a mental snicker despite his embarrassment.

He could only give another shrug to Charlus though, having no idea what to tell the man without outright lying, which he was reluctant to do.

"Harry, how old was this girl?" Dorea questioned suspiciously.

"Errr, she was a seventh year." He admitted with a nervous fidget.

"Going after the older girls, eh Harry?" Charlus chuckled while Dorea muttered disapprovingly.

"She went after me." Harry corrected, lips being pulled into a grin. "Said that she wanted to show me how much she appreciated my efforts."

"Women do like poweful wizards." Charlus said, exchanging a sly look with his grandson.

"Men." Dorea huffed, hiding her own amusement.

XXXXX

Harry spent the next couple of weeks in intense study, desperately trying to bring his knowledge of mathemathics and arithmancy up to the point where he would be able to perform another ritual. Learning how to use a computer to help with that pursuit also took up some time, but all in all he felt that he was making good progress.

It was fortunate that unlike spells, rituals were fairly structured things and he could re-use a lot of the work from his previous two. The task of precisely defining the movements of the knife was time consuming and difficult with only a miniscule margin for error, but it did not contain any of the bizzare variables that magic introduced into spellcraft. It was essentially pure science, reliably predictable and math heavy, whereas crafting a new spell was oftentimes more of an art.

Robert and Katherine occasionally tried to drag him off to some social event or another and kept making plans for turning his birthday into one.

Judicious application of calming spells and what weak compulsions he could cast kept things under control for the most part. Any sense of guilt that Harry might have felt at magically messing with their heads was overshadowed by his relief at having a means to get them to bugger off.

He received no letters from either Luna or Ginny, which was to be expected given his little owl problem. He still had no idea how he was going to deal with that, if it even could be dealt with. The three of them had agreed not to bother with letters over the summer due to a combination of that issue and him not having an owl of his own, but there was another letter he was expecting that would probably turn out to be problematic when it couldn't be delivered.

Namely, his Hogwarts supply list for third year. In all likelihood, he would need to explain himself to an irate Deputy Headmistress come August when the school owls found themselves unable to deliver anything to him.

Filling his days with nothing but sleeping, eating and study quickly began to make Harry a dull boy however. He still kept at it in spite of that, which turned him from a dull boy into a frustrated one and then an angry one, at which point he became about ready to set his notes on fire if he had to look at one more symbol.

Seeing as this would be incredibly counter-productive, he decided to take a day off instead.

XXXXX

Standing in a bus on the way to the cinema, Harry debated whether he should praise or curse the capricious whims of the weather.

The July temperatures in London usually hung around 20°C, but 2013 was turning out to be an unusually hot year. Furthermore, July 22nd was turning out to be an unusually hot day in an already unusually hot year, with temperatures going over 30°C.

Harry had not yet mastered wandless cooling charms and was reduced to sweating it out like everyone else. At least the bus had air conditioning.

On the up side, he was standing next to the seat of a pretty girl that was perhaps sixteen or seventeen years old, who was wearing a pair of very short jean shorts and a black tank top that gave him a perfect view down her cleavage. The Wizarding World could boast about a lot of things, but sexy female clothing was not one of them. He hadn't even realized what he was missing until he saw the barely perceptible sheen of sweat on a pair of firm teenaged breasts. The compulsive power of rune enhanced puberty kept his eyes glued to the sight of them.

The girl looked up. She saw him staring.

"See something you like, Green-Eyes?" She asked, both as a warning and challenge.

Shite. I really need to stop getting caught doing that. Time to dip into the excuse box, Potter.

"I'm sorry," He began with an awkward smile. "I go to a boarding school with a very strict dress code and I don't get to see pretty girls in anything but stodgy uniforms for most of the year."

The girl snorted, either amused or unimpressed. Harry couldn't quite tell.

Harry bit his lip, an idea popping into his mind. He'd gotten used to having friendly company around, which was why he'd decided on going to the cinema instead of staying in his room and fooling around on the internet or gaming like he usually did, but it still wasn't the same as having Luna around(or even Ginny).

This girl was a complete stranger and might very well be mildly pissed at him for the staring, but they were already sort of talking and he could use the company. As a bonus, she was quite pretty, had almost certainly never heard of the Boy-Who-Lived(the chances of her being a witch or having a magical relative had to be insanely remote) and would probably assume that he was only slightly younger than her instead of the not-quite-thirteen year old that he actually was.

"Listen, I'm sorry about the staring. How about you let me take you to dinner and a movie as an apology?" He offered, employing his hard earned skill at Occlumency to keep any hints of nervous stutter out of his voice and the much resented etiquette lessons that Robert and Katherine had forced on him to sound smoother than he felt.

She looked up at him again, this time speculatively. She had a small metal stud in her nose and another one in her tongue if his eyes did not deceive him. Her eyes were a very dark brown and her hair was obviously dyed black. Aside from her jean shorts and tank top, all she had on her were a pair of scuffed trainers and a deliberately beaten up looking tan green bag that sported a plenthora of doodles depicting what he guessed were band signs.

His foster parents would have been horrified if they knew that he was associating with someone like her, which just made it better as far as he was concerned.

"Are you asking me on a date?" She asked.

"I guess I am." He replied evenly, doing his level best to keep the blood away from his face.

She stayed quiet for a while, deliberately prolonging his torment.

Most of her already mild irritation at his peeping had dissipated when he'd apologized, so she was not entirely opposed to his suggestion and it wasn't like she'd had any plans for the day in the first place. The black haired boy was more polite than what she was used to and a bit on the young side, but not at all bad looking, had the most gorgeous green eyes she'd ever seen and probably had money to spare if his mention of going to a boarding school was true. As far as random date requests went, this one was actually quite appealing.

"Alright, Green-Eyes, I'll go on a date with you."

"Harry." He introduced himself with a smile, offering her his hand.

"Zoe." She smiled back, taking the hand.

XXXXX

Harry had already learned with Luna that being around people that didn't expect anything from you could be fun. He learned with Zoe that just goofing off for a while was very liberating. He couldn't even recall the last time he'd felt so relaxed.

They went to an 'all you can eat' type restaurant first, where he decided to show off a bit by eating enough for three grown men, much to his date's disgusted awe and fascination.

After that they went to see a movie, where Harry learned that Zoe was one of those people that liked to point out plot holes, logic failures and inconsistencies rather than watch quietly. They didn't make any new friends there.

Harry mentioned reading somewhere that the Headmaster of his school enjoyed ten-pin bowling, which had Zoe suggesting that they go do that since neither of them had ever tried it. As it turned out, they both sucked at it.

Harry paid for everything without really giving it much thought. He'd grown up rich, but rarely spent anything until recently. He remembered what it was like to be poor all too well and had no desire to return to that through careless spending, no matter how unlikely it was. He hadn't expected to have this much fun on their date and the last thing he wanted to do was spoil it by being cheap.

The day had to end eventually though and the two of them set off toward home, though it was long after it had gotten dark.

"I can't believe that you're stuffing your face again." Zoe was saying in exasperation, staring at the subway sandwich Harry had picked up a short while ago.

"I'm a growing boy." He replied with the standard excuse.

"You'll be growing sideways if you don't watch it, you plonker." She threw back with a wide grin.

"You're just jealous." He retorted smugly.

"Damn right I'm jealous!" The girl exclaimed loudly, scowling playfully. "You've been shoving food down your gob the whole bloody day like it's nothing. If it tried that, I'd be the size of a bus in a month."

"A double decker." Harry agreed with a laugh.

"Prat."

They lapsed into silence for a while, just waiting for their respective buses to arrive to take them home while Harry finished off his latest meal.

"Harry, listen....." Zoe started, suddenly nervous. "I had a really great time today..."

"So did I." He replied, wondering what she was trying to say.

"....But I don't think we should be doing this again."

Harry blinked at the sudden serious turn the evening had taken.

"I didn't really expect us to." He admitted after a moment. "I don't get much free time. Today was an exception because I was overworked, but I'm going to be busy for the rest of the summer and then I'll be off in my school for ten months. I like you, but I never expected this to be more than a one time thing."

And that wasn't even mentionning that he had to keep magic a secret from her. He had no idea what the protocol was for bringing someone new in on it, but he suspected that it was pretty draconian. Not that he had an abundance of respect for the Ministry's laws, but he did have respect for the consequences of those laws.

"Yeah...I kind of have a boyfriend already anyway." She admitted, scratching awkwardly at the back of her head.

Harry blinked again and stared at her for a long few seconds.

"Won't he be upset that you went on a date with me?"

"We're having a bit of a break right now, so it's cool."

"Huh...okay then."

They lapsed into silence again, a significantly more uncomfortable one this time.

"So....this school of yours gives you homework to do over the summer?" Zoe asked after a minute.

"Yep, quite a lot of it actually." None of which he'd even looked at yet. The preparations for the next ritual had consumed all of his attention.

"Barbaric."

"Absolutely."

"We can still stay in touch though, right?" She asked brightly. "You can never have too many friends."

Harry winced. Staying in touch while he was at Hogwarts would be quite the feat. Owls and the Floo Network were the only ways for students to communicate with the outside world and neither would work for talking to someone that didn't know about magic.

"That might be a problem." He said after a few seconds. "The school I go to is seriously isolated. I'd be shocked if there's so much as a phone anywhere within fifty kilometers of it."

In fact, he knew that there wasn't one.

Zoe's face fell into a sad expression.

"You don't have to lie, Harry. If you're mad at me for not mentioning my boyfriend, then just tell me."

"I'm not lying." Harry insisted. "There really isn't any phone or internet access at my school."

"Where the hell do you go to school, the middle of the Atlantic?" She asked sarcastically, not at all convinced.

"Some Scottish Highland in the ass end of nowhere actually." He admitted ruefully.

"You're serious?!" She asked incredulously.

"Afraid so."

"What could they possibly be teaching you up there without any technology, the best way to shag a sheep?"

Harry snickered, having a bizzare mental image of McGonagall transfiguring a desk into the aforementioned animal and tutoring them in the proper technique to shag it in true Scottish fashion. It certainly gave him a new perspective on the possible alternative uses of transfiguration.

"It's a very...traditional...sort of place." He evaded, rapidly developing an appreciation for how much bullshit the non-magical family members of wizards and witches had to shovel to keep magic a secret.

"Keep telling yourself that, sheep shagger."

"I'll have you know that everyone there is very right and proper, they would've been scandalized by your pierced tongue and poor manners." Harry retorted lightly, knowing that he was probably right. The wizard-raised would be both baffled and horrified at the idea of having a metal stud in one's tongue.

"So it's a bunch of snobbish sheep shaggers?" She asked.

Harry gave it a moment's thought before giving a slow nod. He could easily imagine Draco Malfoy with his nose up in the air even while shagging a sheep. He wished he hadn't imagined it, but it was too late for that now.

"A lot of them are snobby."

"I'm actually kind of surprised that you aren't." She admitted.

"Why? Because my foster parents are snobby twats?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Foster parents? I thought they were your real parents."

"Nah, my real parents were murdered by a psychotic neo-nazi when I was a year old." That was as good a description for Voldemort as any.

Zoe recoiled in shock despite his casual tone and stared at him in horror.

"Don't worry about it, it was a long time ago. I've gotten over it." Harry assured her.

Well, I've mostly gotten over it.

"I guess that explains why you're not a snobby rich kid, haha." She said, giving a nervous (and quite fake) laugh.

"Sorry, probably shouldn't have just blurted it out like that."

"It was a bit of a surprise." She admitted and they went silent again.

"I think that's your bus." Harry said about a minute later, seeing the vehicle in question approaching.

Zoe bit her lip at that, suddenly looking a bit indecisive for a moment before her face firmed in resolve. The next thing Harry knew, she was mashing her lips up against his.

Eyes going wide in shock, Harry responded on a clumsy autopilot, feeling the now familiar shiver of magic pulse from his runes as his arousal rose. He was barely aware of his hands going around her to grab her rear end as he began to respond more enthusiastically.

"My mum isn't coming home until tomorrow." She whispered into his ear when they separated, the invitation clear.

Later on, Harry would have liked to say that he had considered this offer carefully and thought about various factors such as his brief acquaintance with Zoe, her uncertain relationship status, his youth and several other things.

In reality, most of his higher reasoning had migrated south along with his blood. Indeed, his most complex thought was something along the lines of 'I'm getting laid!'.

Inexperienced with this kind of situation and unsure of how to accept, he merely gave her butt a squeeze and leaned in for another kiss.

XXXXX

They got on the bus together and spent an impatient ten minutes touching in a way that didn't really help with the waiting.

Then they made a B line towards the apartment building where Zoe lived with her mother, her father not being around for reasons that Harry had felt it unwise to press her on. An interesting session of heavy elevator snogging and a short walk down the hallway later, they were through the door of the flat.

Harry had only a few seconds to take in the small-ish living space as Zoe led him to her room. It was fairly tidy, but the pile of towels on the couch, a few dirty dishes in the sink and traces of dust in places betrayed the fact that the people living here were not as obsessive about neatness as he was used to. Teeny would have a nervous breakdown at the thought of a mess being left anywhere in a place that people lived and Robert and Katherine would turn their noses up so high that they'd be able to collect rainwater with their nostrils.

The thought of his foster parents penetrated the lust currently fogging his brain and he recalled that he had to do something.

"Hang on a second." He said, pulling out his phone. "I need to call Katherine and tell her that I'm not coming home today."

"They don't like you slipping the leash?" Zoe smirked, toying with the waistband of her shorts.

"You could say that." Harry grumbled. "I wouldn't put it past her to call the police and make a huge scene."

And not out of worry that he'd been kidnapped or something either, since it would hardly be the first time that he'd slept over in Potter Manor. No, she'd do it for the publicity. Then she would spend the next month or so milking the 'I was so scared' card before it got old. She probably wouldn't do it since it might also make her look neurotic, but it was best to not give her an excuse.

Sometimes, Harry got the distinct feeling that Robert and Katherine were actually hoping that someone would kidnap him, just so that they'd have a legitimate reason to plaster themselves all over the news.

"Go ahead then." Zoe said, still smirking and starting to take off her clothes.

Harry had some trouble finding the name of his foster mother with the impromptu striptease going on in front of him. To be fair, the mismatched pair of black bra and blue thong was a lot more interesting. He did manage to call her eventually though.

"Hello?" Katherine answered with her usual overdone sense of poise.

"Katherine, hi. I'm not going to be coming home today." Harry said without preamble, the majority of his attention fixed on Zoe.

"Sleeping over in the magical house your parents left you again?" Katherine asked rhetorically, a fair bit of bite in her words. "Robert and I would really like to see it one day, you know."

Harry did know, the two of them hadn't stopped wheedling about it since they'd learned that he actually owned something. Call him paranoid, but Harry wasn't keen to let them anywhere near Potter Manor. He feared for the antique furniture at the very least, even if two non-magicals didn't really have any right to them according to wizard law. Both Robert and Katherine had a sense of entitlement to rival any wizard and were sure to attempt getting their mitts on anything they could. He didn't even want to think about their reaction to the vaults full of gold he had in Gringotts.

"You know it's not that easy." He said back, a trace of irritation seeping into his own tone.

Zoe looked at him curiously and suddenly developed a mischievous grin.

"Yes, so you said. These wards of yours that are supposed to repel non-magical people." Katherine replied, dubiously. Not that she doubted their existence, merely their ability to affect her. She was just about arrogant enough to think herself too strong willed for that."But it's your house. Couldn't you disable them or something?"

While Katherine had been talking, Zoe had taken the opportunity to yank his shorts down to his ankles, leaving him suddenly and unceremoniously exposed.

Harry gaped at Zoe in shock at the unexpected move. She winked back up at him from her kneeling position and pushed him to sit on the bed.

"Harry, are you still there?"

"Wh- yeah, I'm still here." He said, sounding much more flustered than before.

"What happened? You sound strange."

Inwardly cursing nosy foster mothers who couldn't just end the fucking call already, Harry made up a quick excuse.

"Um, the carpet grabbed my leg."

Zoe slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from bursting into giggles at what probably sounded like an outrageous lie to her.

"Animated carpets. Honestly, I will never understand why anyone would use magic for something like that."

Neither would Harry to be perfectly honest, but he was for once glad that wizards and witches were generally insane enough for pretty much anything to sound plausible.

"Me neithER!"

"What was it this time?"

"Stubbed my toe." Harry answered with strain in his voice.

He hadn't of course, since he was quite stationery. The real reason was that Zoe had apparently gotten impatient and decided to start him off with a blowjob, though the amused gleam in her dark eyes suggested that she was also doing it to add some extra difficulty to his phone call.

"Figures that you'd be clumsy with how fast you're growing. I read that people that grow quickly tend to be less aware of their body." Katherine commented, oblivious to the fact that her audience couldn't care less if he tried.

"That's great." Harry replied, not sure if he was saying it to his foster mother or the girl currently demonstrating the uses of a tongue stud during oral sex.

"You must have hit your toe really hard, you sound like you're in a lot of pain."

"Yes, pain." Harry agreed, clenching his teeth tightly as Zoe suddenly hollowed out her cheeks and began sucking on him earnestly. "Listen Katherine, I really need to do something about this."

What he really needed to do was warn Zoe that he was about to blow and he could hardly do that with his foster mother still on the line. He'd already tried to tug on her hair but she didn't seem to be getting the message.

"Alright, but do look into lowering those wards later."

Unable to hold back any more, Harry resigned himself to getting yelled at for unloading in a girl's mouth without warning her.

"Harry?" Katherine asked, no doubt hearing his heavy breathing through the nose as Zoe kept on sucking through his orgasm, apparently unbothered by the lack of warning.

"Yeah, I got it. Talk to you later, Katherine." Harry said and ended the call, trying not to sound too relieved when Zoe popped his oversensitive cock out of her mouth.

While Harry took a moment to catch his breath, Zoe took a tissue and a bottle of water from her bag, spat the semen she'd so industriously extracted from him into it and then gulped down a few mouthfuls of water.

"Sorry." He apologized with a wince.

"Don't be, you taste a lot better than Jeff ever did. Man eats too much cheese." Zoe replied with a shrug.

Not exactly the response he'd been expecting, but Harry made a note to investigate the effects of food on the taste of his sperm.

"I meant for not warning you." He clarified.

"Oh Harry, you really think I couldn't tell?" Zoe chuckled, stepping closer until panty clad crotch was practically rubbing against his nose. There was a small spot of wetness on the blue fabric that made her own arousal clear. "It was obvious, even if you did cum as quick as a virgin."

"I am a virgin." Harry admitted, resisting the surprisingly strong temptation to bury his nose in her crotch. The runes had settled down a bit after his orgasm, but the faint smell of her arousal was quickly bringing his own back and the magic with it.

"Really?" There was a hint of incredulity in Zoe's voice that baffled Harry. He looked fifteen at most and she couldn't possibly be more than seventeen, though she was probably sixteen. What was so strange about being a virgin at that age?

"Really." He confirmed, looking at her a bit oddly.

"We'll have to do something about that." She said with a smirk, pulling his shirt off, unclipping her bra and sliding her thong down her legs to expose her recently shaved crotch. "But first, how about getting me ready?"

It was quite obvious what she wanted and Harry wasn't opposed to it in the slightest. The smell was certainly enticing.

He leaned in closer and hesitantly dragged his tongue across her slit, unsure what to expect. To his mild surprise, there wasn't much of a taste to her sex aside from the salty tang of her sweat from the hot day and a very faint musk that corresponded to the smell of her.

Zoe's hands went into his hair as he continued his slow exploration of her lower lips, getting bolder every time she made a sound of pleasure. He kept it up for a minute or two before becoming dissatisfied with the position. With him sitting down and her standing in front of him, he had fairly limited access and he wanted to change it.

Zoe made a small sound of disappointment when he nudged her to get on the bed, but she did it anyway, settling herself on it and spreading her legs for him. She looked like she was about to say something, but stopped herself when he once again went for her crotch with his face.

"You're doing pretty well for a virgin." She said with a pleased sigh, running her fingers through his hair. "Most boys don't like licking a girl, they just stick it in and started hammering away."

Buried as he was in muff, Harry couldn't respond, but he couldn't for the life of him understand why anyone would dislike this. Sure, he was almost painfully hard, but there was nowhere he'd rather be right now. Besides, she'd sucked him off and it seemed only right to return the favor.

"Higher." She directed, tugging on his hair.

Harry obliged and moved upward, leaving her vaginal opening alone for now.

"Just a little bit higher."

Puzzled as to why, he nonetheless did as he was told and moved his tongue a little bit higher. He figured that his tongue had nearly completely left her nether lips when she suddenly bucked with a quickly indrawn breath.

Intrigued by the powerful reaction, he dragged his tongue over the same area again.

"Yes! Right there." Zoe gasped, her hand clenching in his hair almost painfully.

That was exactly what he'd been about to do either way, so Harry was more than happy to follow her directions again. Several more long licks over the area revealed a little nub of some sort that appeared to elicit an especially intense reaction, so he began to focus on it exclusively.

This quickly had Zoe panting her way to an orgasm, squeezing her legs around Harry's head to stop him from abusing her overstimulated clitoris any further.

"Wow...not bad." She breathed. "You were a bit clueless at the start and a bit too rough at the end, but not bad at all. I give you a six out of ten in licking pussy."

Wiping the spit and other fluids off his jaw, Harry shot her an amused look. "You have a scale?"

"Oh yes." She confirmed with a giggle. "'one' is 'painful and not at all pleasant' and 'ten' is 'explosive squirting'."

Harry didn't really know how to respond to that, so he just ran his hand across her still spread legs and shuffled closer, lining himself up with her opening.

"Wait." Zoe stopped him, reaching over to a small nightstand and pulling out a condom. "Put that on. I'm on the pill, but we wouldn't want to have any accidents, would we?"

This ended up being Harry's introduction to the frustration of dealing with condom packaging.

"Give it here." Zoe said in exasperation after seeing him fumble with the prophylactic for a full fifteen seconds without success. With easy motions that betrayed a lot of practice, she quickly ripped the packaging and wrapped the latex tube around his shaft.

"Come on in." She beckonked once that was done, spreading her legs lewdly in invitation.

Feeling a mix of eagerness and nervous anticipaton, Harry moved forward and placed his hands on the enticing pair of breasts that had started this whole sequence of events, sinking into her wet warmth at the same time.

Once he was completely inside her, she suddenly pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her legs around his waist and grabbing the back of his head to whisper in his ear.

"Your virginity is mine now, Harry, and you're never getting it back."

He looked at her incredulously and she burst out laughing, apparently unable to keep a straight face.

"Sorry, I've always wanted to say that." She explained with a giggle. "Now get to the shagging, and try not to blow your load in thirty seconds again."

XXXXX

Ever since he'd completed his first ritual and discovered the unexpected side-effects, Harry had occasionally pondered what a rune like Uruz would mean for his sexual stamina. He hadn't noticed any particular difference during his many wand polishing sessions, nor had he lasted long during the surprise handjob at the end of his second year, but he hadn't wanted to dismiss the possibility.

He finally had a definite answer.

"Why are you hard again? How are you hard again." Zoe asked plaintively, exhaustion evident in her tone.

"Must be magic." Harry quipped, snickering at his private joke.

He may not have lasted very long the first couple of times, but his recovery period was turning out to be inhumanly fast. He'd also built enough stamina that he was lasting a much more respectable length of time by round six, which was now.

"Well you and your magical cock are going to have to calm down because I'm running out of condoms. I can't use them all on you, in one night no less."

"I'll buy you as many as you want tomorrow." He offered, flicking his tongue over one of her nipples.

"You're damn right you will, but I'm tired." Zoe continued in the same plaintive voice as before. "And sore. And sweaty. I just want to take a shower and go to sleep."

"Want me to wash your back?" Truth be told, he was pretty tired himself and wouldn't mind a shower and sleep either, but teasing the girl he'd exhausted was making his ego skyrocket.

She snorted. "Nice try, but our shower isn't even close to big enough for that."

"Aww."

"Tell you what, Harry. I'll give you another blowjob in the bathroom if you stop poking me in the arse with that thing." Zoe offered tiredly.

"Okay." Harry quickly agreed.

He might be tired, but a blowjob was a blowjob.

XXXXX

The next morning, Harry left Zoe's apartment block with a skip in his step after leaving behind a twenty pound note to pay for the amount of condoms he'd used, feeling subtly different than when he'd gone in. For all the effort he'd put into learning Occlumency, his hormones had still been all over the place ever since his first rune set. They were still all over the place and would continue to be until his accelerated puberty was over, but the sex seemed to have made it a bit better. The magic in the in his runes felt a bit less chaotic.

Or it could just be that he was in a good mood and was imagining things.

XXXXX

Harry got back to work on his ritual after that, finding it much easier now that he was no longer wound tighter than a steel cable.

He resisted the urge to do more with Zoe than send an occasional text, regardless of the understandable urge to focus on the pretty girl instead of the preparations to carve a set of symbols into his skin with a knife. All the reasons for why getting too close to her was a bad idea were very valid and he'd checked the Ministry guidelines for introducing an uninformed and unrelated muggle to magic. It was exactly as draconian as he'd suspected it would be.

Basically, if they weren't immediate family such as a sibling, spouse, parent or child, then it was illegal to tell them. Meaning that unless he married her(which he obviously wasn't intending to do, considering his actual age and their brief acquintance), he'd have to keep Zoe in the dark or else be charged with violating the Statute of Secrecy if he got discovered. Naturally, they'd wipe her memories as well, including her memories of him. Harry wasn't so confident in his ability to fool the Ministry that he'd be willing to risk it and that wasn't even taking into account how Zoe herself might react to the notion of magic.

On the home front, his foster parents continued their attempts to use his birthday as an excuse to organize something, only to run afoul a constant stream of calming charms and mild compulsion spells from him until it was too late. Harry could only breathe a sigh of relief at getting through his birthday without any fuss for a change.

As expected, he received no owls, not from Luna or Ginny for his birthday and not from McGonagall for his school supplies.

He wasn't surprised when she showed up personally the next day.

XXXXX

"Would you care to explain why the Hogwarts owls seem unable to locate you, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked once they were settled in the sitting room.

"I couldn't say, Professor." Harry said evenly, being well prepared for this conversation. "All I know is that it's been going on since Christmas. Luna and Ginny weren't able to send me their presents either."

"And you did not think to inform anyone of this?" The old witch asked in a displeased tone.

"I didn't think it was that big of a deal." Harry shrugged.

"Having an Owl Ward set up around you without your knowledge or your magical guardian's permission is indeed a 'big deal'." McGonagall huffed and pulled out her wand.

Harry sat still while she waved it over him and muttered to herself. This was the most nerve wracking part of the experience, where he could do nothing but trust that Arhain would be able to frustrate her efforts at determining the truth. He would have very much liked to tell her that he didn't want anyone casting diagnostic spells on him, but he knew that it would only serve to make them suspicious. Dumbledore, being his magical guardian in loco parentis, would probably force the issue and Harry would be legally forced to comply.

Even the more progressive laws of the mundane world didn't really consider thirteen year olds as people in the legal sense. Rather, it considered them as something very close to the property of their guardians, similar to pets really. Sure, it was to protect them from making any hugely stupid decisions due to their youth, but it still rankled.

"That's strange." McGonagall said, looking perplexed. "I can't find any trace of an Owl Ward."

Harry resisted the urge to say something dismissive. Being cheeky about it was not the way to deflect suspicion.

"What is it then?" He asked instead, politely.

"I don't know." She answered with a frown, making another few swishes over him with her wand. "I'm not detecting anything out of the ordinary."

Harry held back a relieved sigh. Arhain was working.

"We will need to have the Headmaster and perhaps Poppy examine you further when you return to Hogwarts."

And there was the downside. Unexplained mysteries made people curious and nosy.

XXXXX

A few days after McGonagall's visit, Harry happened to be passing through the living room where his foster parents were watching TV when he caught sight of a very interesting article on the news.

"Mass murderer Sirius Black has escaped from prison and is considered armed and extremely dangerous. If you see him, contact the police immediately. Do NOT approach him."

The article was accompanied by a picture of the man looking quite deranged, with an elbow length tangle of hair, pasty white skin, sunken eyes and rotten teeth. He was much changed from the few memories of him that Harry had, but it was undoubtedly his godfather.

There was no information on which prison he'd escaped from, which gave Robert something to complain about, but Harry knew which one it was. He would keep a wary eye out for any unusually large black dogs this year. Even if he was almost positive that Sirius had nothing to do with the deaths of his parents, there was still a good chance of him actually being guilty for the other crimes he'd been imprisoned for and there was no telling what state the dementors had left him in over the past twelve years.

XXXXX

Mid August

Harry pushed away from his desk and thrust both his arms into the air victoriously, a feeling of deep satisfaction filling him.

He lowered them after a few seconds and slumped into a lazy, relieved slouch.

It was finally done. The symbols were chosen, the arithmancy checked out, everything had been triple checked both by himself and the computer. The ritual was ready.

Seven words, this time in kanji. He'd not quite realized how much trouble that particular alphabet would give him when he'd chosen it, but he hadn't wanted to back out of using it simply because it would be difficult.

Unlike the Norse or Avariel runes, kanji characters were far more complex in appearance and often had multiple characters per word, making them take more cuts to carve as a result, but they were not as ambiguous in meaning and thus far more predictable. He would be glad to have them carved and get it over with.

Tomorrow. Right now it was time for a nap so that his brain stopped hurting.

XXXXX

Sorcery

Poison

Cleanse

Lungs

Kidneys

Liver

Intestine

Harry kept these seven words firmly in mind as he stepped into the ritual circle and felt the built in petrification spell take hold.

The purpose of this rune set was simple. To increase the speed at which poisons and foreign magic was purged from him. The downside of it was as obvious as it was simple. It would also work against beneficial magic and medicines, as healing spells were still foreign to his body and medicines were really nothing more than targeted poisons. He deemed it a fair exchange.

"Majutsu."

The knife rose and began carving the two character word into his right shoulder. It took longer than any of his previous runes because of the complexity, but that was how it was. Harry ignored the pain as best he could and sank into an Occlumency trance, focusing on the meaning and purpose of his newest rune.

When it was done, he felt his magic move into the freshly carved wound and settle into a tense wait. It wasn't a latent bit of magic anymore, but something that had been given a purpose that needed to be fulfilled. Harry smiled. The same had happened with Raido, so he knew that it was working as it should.

"Doku."

A single character word this time, carved into his left shoulder. His magic settled into it just as easily, but the sense of anticipation grew.

"Kiyomemasu."

A four character word, carved into his upper breastbone. This time, the magic already held in the previous two runes joined the latent magic flowing into the new one, taking further direction from it.

Now to tell it where to go.

"Haizō."

This one was a bit different than the three before it. He had two lungs, so two sets of the two character rune were carved into his chest, where the organs in question were.

As soon as it was done, he felt the previously prepared magic rushing into his lungs.

Harry gasped in wonder, getting a true feel for his lungs for the first time in his life. A shiver of sensation ran through his first set of runes and he could feel their magic joining that of the ones he'd just carved, instinctively knowing that their healing effects were being put to work to undo what little damage his lungs had accrued over his short life.

"Jinzō."

The knife moved to his back and began carving another two set of two character kanji over his kidneys. His magic filled them the same as it had his lungs, repairing any damage to them and enhancing their natural purpose of purifying the blood.

Another important bit of information came back to the forefront of Harry's mind as this happened.

The lungs did not have pain receptors.

The kidneys did however, as Harry learned when he felt a dull burn flare up in them as they were magically enhanced beyond normal capacity.

Knowing that there was no choice but to keep going and hope that it would pass quickly, he hurried on with the last two parts of the ritual.

"Kimo."

The knife made quick work of the single character word and the burn spread to his liver as well.

"Chō."

The last word was also just one character, which the knife carved into the soft tissue of his petrified, unmuscled stomach. Predictably, his entire intestinal tract began burning painfully.

The ritual dropped him unceremoniously into the small pool of blood that had run down his legs, leaving him groaning pitifully as the burn continued to slowly worsen.

He hadn't anticipated that little wrinkle, for which he knew that Charlus and Dorea were going to give him knowingly pointed looks and Teeny would confine him to bed for the next few days, all the while wringing her hands nervously at her inability to make the pain stop and making him feel guilty for worrying her.

Good thing he'd told Robert and Katherine that he'd be spending a few days with a friend from school. The last thing he wanted was to deal with them while feeling as if his organs were being microwaved.

XXXXX

Harry spent the next couple of days experiencing the joys of his body suddenly having much more effective filtration system, complete with such wonderful features as a burning pain when taking a piss. It fortunately settled down after the initial change, for which Harry was grateful. He had been briefly worried that he'd made a huge mistake and had a lifetime of constant pain to look forward to, but it turned out that all was well as soon his body was brought down to a lower toxin threshhold than it had been at before.

He still felt that the end result was worth it, but he wouldn't soon forget that applying magical changes directly to one's organs hurt.

Once that unpleasant experience was over with, Harry suddenly found himself with some free time on his hands before the summer ended. Sure, he still had to do the homework that Hogwarts had assigned him, but that was a day's work at the most. Two if he was slow about it.

Zoe had sent him a few texts that were a clear invitation for another date and later a repeat of their last encounter, but he had reluctantly begged off due to his desire to finish the ritual. There wasn't anything like that holding him back now though.

Mind made up, he took out his phone and started writing the text. Sure, Zoe was technically in a relationship with someone already, but that was honestly between her and this 'Jeff' character that he presumed was her on-again off-again boyfriend. Zoe could tell him to back off at any time, but until then he was going to treat her as if she was single.

XXXXX

Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express early, as had been his habit for the past two years. He wanted to stake a claim on an empty compartment, rather than end up in a situation where he had to sit with strangers.

He'd gotten to meet up with Zoe an additional two times, both of which had ended with sex at her place. Apparently her mother often spent the night with her own current boyfriend, which left Zoe plenty of alone time for her own activities.

It had quickly become obvious to Harry that he was being used for his money as much as for his company, as Zoe had picked out a list of activities that were well out of the sensible budget of a normal teenager on both days and never mentioned the fact that he always left behind more money than a few condoms warranted.

He didn't really mind, truth be told. The expenditure for him was far from huge and it ended in sex. Zoe didn't seem any more interested in making something more of their arrangement than him, for which he was thankful, as it would be simply impractical for him to get involved with a muggle girl at this point. He hadn't expected his spur of the moment date request back in July to formulate into having a summer fuck buddy, but he was certainly not complaining.

At the very least, it had reduced the amount of incidents where he was seized by the sudden urge to bend his foster mother over a table. That had never stopped being weird, even if he'd gotten kind of used to it.

Luna walked in some time after him, followed by Ginny who barely boarded before the train started moving. Luna had some amusing stories to tell about her snorkack hunting adventure, but Harry was far more interested in what Ginny had to say for a change.

"There are animated skeletons in the Egyptian tombs?" He asked with surprised interest.

"Yeah, but some of them were really weird. My brothers said that one of them had two heads because of some curse or other that was in there." The redhead explained enthusiastically.

"You didn't see them yourself?" He wondered.

"No." She scowled. "Mum didn't let me see, said that it was 'no place for a young lady'. Pah!"

Harry's lips twitched into a smile at her irritability. He'd have been angry too in her position.

"So she didn't let you go into any of the tombs?"

"Only the ones that the curse breakers have already cleared, and even then only if Bill went with us."

"Your oldest brother? The one that works for Gringotts?" Harry asked, inwardly wondering why anyone would want to work for the little bastards.

"That's him." Ginny confirmed.

"What kind of claim do the goblins have on the tombs of humans?" He asked further, perplexed.

"Errr..." Ginny stammered, stumped by the question.

"It's part of the treaty they have with the ICW." Luna offered dreamily.

"The ICW gave them free access to the resting places of long dead Egyptian wizards?" Harry asked sceptically.

"The Egyptian tombs hadn't been discovered yet when the treaty was signed. That specific clause of the treaty gives them ownership of any place where the magical dead were interred as long as it is over two thousand years old. Rather short-sighted of them in retrospect, but that's what you get when you don't protect yourself from buzzing grox pixies." The blonde girl explained.

"Why do you even know that?" Ginny wondered, ignoring the mention of yet another potentially imaginary creture with the ease of practice.

"Oh, I've known about the dangers of grox pixies for years." Luna explained.

"Not that! Why do you know so much about some treaty between the goblins and the ICW from hundreds of years ago?"

"Daddy and I were doing research on Egypt to see if we might find any crumple-horned snorkacks there, but it seems that our original thinking was correct instead. They prefer colder climes, which must mean that they have fur."

Harry was a bit confused as to how Luna and her father intended to find a crumple-horned snorkack if they were still guessing about the creature's appearance.

"Luna, how can you even be sure that snorkacks have crumpled horns?" He asked just for the sake of his curiousity.

"Oh, we aren't, but it makes sense." Luna answered cheerfully. "After all, if they didn't have crumpled horns, then they wouldn't be crumple-horned snorkacks."

Harry exchanged a glance with Ginny, both of them silently agreeing that the circular logic was as childish as it was unassailable and decided to drop the subject.

"Sooo, what else did you see in Egypt?" He asked, shifting the conversation back to his main interest.

Ginny was more than happy to talk about her holiday, her crush on the black haired boy still not fully gone, especially since he seemed to be going in the 'tall, dark and handsome' direction.

As he listened to the redhead describing the magical side of Egypt, Harry became ever more determined to see it for himself one day.

Unlike the Weasleys however, he wasn't inclined to only see the goblin approved areas. How hard could it be to slip past the ornery midgets?

XXXXX

The three of them continued to have a sporadic conversation for another few hours, intersped with some reading when Ginny brought up something she'd been skirting around ever since she got on the train.

"Did you hear about Sirius Black escaping Azkaban?"

"No, but I did read about it." Luna replied, looking up from her upside down copy of the Quibbler.

"What about it?" Harry asked, deciding not to respond to Luna's little witticism.

"Aren't you worried?" Ginny asked nervously. "I mean...he was You-Know-Who's right hand man and responsible for....you know."

"The death of my parents?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, inwardly scoffing at the notion.

"Yeah." Ginny said quietly.

"Not really." Harry shrugged. "If he's smart, then he's already left the country."

He didn't really believe that though. The picture that Charlus and Dorea had painted of Sirius Black was of a man that thought with his heart rather than his head and that was assuming that he was still sane, which was far from guaranteed. The only mystery were the man's goals.

The train slowed and jerked to a stop at that point, halting the conversation in the process.

"Why are we stopping?" Ginny asked, knowing that they couldn't possibly be at their destination yet. The Express arrived at Hogwarts in the evening and it was still afternoon. A dark and stormy afternoon, but afternoon nonetheless.

Harry knew this just as well as her and went to look out the window in an attempt to divine the cause of their stop.

"It's getting cold." Luna said quietly, her breath misting.

Harry had noticed that too, but he was far more worried about something else. His constant practice with wandless magic had given him a sensitivity towards ambient magic that he was quite sure most people didn't have. Whatever was causing the temperature to plummet was definitely not natural, but it didn't feel like any magic he'd ever sensed either.

He had scoffed at the notion of magic being divided between Dark and Light ever since the first time he'd heard that there was a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts. It seemed far too much like some idiot's justification for villifying magic they didn't like rather than anything that had a basis in reality. The only way he could describe how this unnatural cold felt however, was capital-D Dark.

"There's something moving out there." He said, noticing the dark shapes flitting through the sky, apparently unbothered by the rain and the wind.

"It's the dementors." Luna said faintly, now hugging her legs to her chest.

"But the dementors aren't supposed to leave Azkaban." Ginny protested.

"Nobody is supposed to escape Azkaban either." Luna argued, a note of distress in her tone that her voice didn't usually carry.

"They've boarded the train." Harry interjected grimly, reaching for his wand. He wasn't sure what good it would do in this situation, but it was better than cowering helplessly in a corner.

"How can you tell?" Ginny asked fearfully.

That was a good question that Harry didn't really have an answer for. He hadn't seen them do it, but the sense of Dark felt much closer now and had split off into several distinct blobs.

He was not liking this whatsoever. The cold was more than just a drop of temperature, it felt as if the very warmth of the world was being leeched away, bringing with it a powerful but unnatural fear and depression. His grip tightened around his wand. He'd never much cared for it as anything other than a crutch until he could easily use magic without it, but right now the echo of a phoenix's magic within the feather it held was comforting.

The closest dementor finally reached their compartment, bringing with it the cold and the Dark. It was close enough now to begin affecting their minds much more strongly.

Luna and Ginny both had the misfortune of having some pretty bad memories, Ginny from last year and Luna from the day that she saw her mother die. Both of them had already retreat as far into the compartment as was physically possible and buried their heads into their knees in a vain attempt to block out the memories that came flooding back to the forefront of their minds, some of which they'd blocked out.

Harry had also backed up gainst the window, but was shakily aiming his wand towards the door, somehow knowing that the thing outside it wasn't intending to just pass by as it had all the other compartments.

He was proven right as it slowly pulled open the door and began to glide in.

Harry wasn't spared the misery and memory inducing effects of the dementor any more than the girls, but he did have the advantage of having come to terms with them already. Yes, the memory of his mother's murder was pretty terrible, but he'd seen it a year ago already and put it behind him. He would have liked to have parents, but he'd stopped pining for them a long time ago. Similarly, the memories of his life with the Dursleys and in the orpahange were far from pleasant, but not debilitatingly horrible even with the dementor augmenting them.

He was no keener to have the soul sucking creature coming any closer to him than any other sane person though and sent a powerful gout of flame at it.

The fire guttered out before it could hit the dementor, the draining effect of its aura snuffing out the magic behind it harmlessly.

Starting to get a little desperate to stop the thing from advancing, Harry sent a cutting curse at it. He saw it hit, but there was no effect. It was like his spell had simply vanished, its cutting edge without meaning.

The dementor was well into the compartment by now and Harry was starting to panic. He didn't know any spells that were guaranteed to be useful and he probably couldn't muster the focus necessary even if he did, so he resorted to desperate measures. That being that when in doubt, explosions were usually a solution.

He cast the most powerful blasting curse that he could manage, knowing it was a terrible idea even as he did it. The few feet of distance between him and the dementor was not even close to the recommended minimum for casting any kind of explosive spell. If it worked, it was entirely likely to kill everything in the compartment except the dementor itself.

The spell rocketed out of his wand, the magic frayed and barely formed due to his lack of focus, but powerful all the same.

The dementor was struck center mass, but there was no explosion. The only thing Harry felt was his magic vanishing into the depthless sense of Dark exuded by the creature in the same way as his previous spells, as well as the warmth of the world and the happiness in peoples minds.

Then it was on top of him, its cadaverous fingers griping his head and turning it upwards into the shadows of the hood.

Harry once again heard the screaming of his mother, but it seemed to come from a great distance. His magic felt as if it was freezing, however little sense that made. The runes scattered across his body, where magic was infused into flesh, became so cold that the skin turned blue in seconds. The four organs that he'd runically enhanced over the summer were similarly affected, though much more severely.

But none of that mattered when the Dark was so close.

XXXXX

Albus Dumbledore looked on as Poppy finished working on his most important student, feeling deeply concerned.

It hadn't escaped his notice that Harry was incongruously large for his age. A growth spurt was nothing odd, but the one that Harry was having stretched credulity. Neither James nor Lily had been exceptonally tall people after all, so their son's current size was quite unusual.

He'd been hoping for an excuse to give Harry a thorough medical examination for a while, but this wasn't what he'd had in mind. The strange situation with the owls would have sufficed. Harry nearly losing his soul to a dementor was something he'd have preferred to avoid, convenient though it was as far as excuses went. He had barely been able to keep the information from reaching the ears of the Ministry. The last thing anyone needed right now was for Cornelius to come blustering in and making a bigger mess of things. It was a good thing that Remus had been nearby to drive the dementor away.

"How is he doing, Poppy?" He asked when the Hogwarts matron approached him.

"Still unconscious but stable." She said with a tired sigh. "It's almost like the dementor was trying to freeze him solid. If his lungs, liver, kidneys and intestines had gotten any colder, they would have formed ice crystals and killed him. It was a near thing as it was, my spells didn't work as well as they should, but his body fortunately seemed to recover on its own. I've never seen the like of it, but I've never heard of anyone coming so close to losing their soul and surviving either."

"Will there be any permanent consequences to young Harry?"

"I couldn't say." Poppy replied with a frown. "The organs I mentioned are still saturated with his magic and operating at a much higher level than normal. He also has a similar but less pronounced effect across the rest of his body."

"Thank you, Poppy." The old wizard said with a smile. "When do you think he will wake up? I need to speak to him."

"He needs rest, Headmaster." Poppy said with disapproval.

"It will not take long." Dumbledore assured her.

XXXXX

Harry was mildly surprised when he opened his eyes. Given what his last few memories were, he should be dead. Oddly enough, there was absolutely no emotion attached to his near death experience. He felt the same as if he'd just realized that water was wet.

This must be the Hogwarts Infirmary. He'd never been here before, but only a place of healing could be so obnoxiously white. He'd never understood the reasoning behind that. I don't think I like it much.

"Good evening, Harry." Came the voice of Dumbledore from nearby.

"Is it?" Harry wondered.

"I suppose it could have been better." The old wizard conceded. "Dementors do tend to ruin one's day."

"There was so much Dark." Harry murmured, mostly to himself.

"I am sorry that you had to go through that, Harry." Dumbledore sighed regretfully.

Harry wasn't really upset about it. He wasn't sure if that was because of the strangely trance-like state he was currently in, or because he'd actually found the Dark strangely comforting in his last moments of consciousness. When the biting cold and grotesque appearance of the dementor had ceased to matter, it had been beautiful in its own way. He had been ready to sink into it and let it have him forever.

"Minister Fudge insisted on a dementor presence despite my objections." The old man went on, oblivious to Harry's thoughts.

"To search for Sirius Black." The much younger wizard said with certainty.

"Yes."

"They won't find him." If he'd slipped past them in Azkaban, then he would certainly have little trouble doing it in the open.

"I agree, but the Ministry unfortunately does not."

"Of course it doesn't, it wouldn't be the government if it wasn't both stupid and incompetent." Harry said, finally starting to shake off the strange lethargy.

"That is a very cynical viewpoint for someone so young." Dumbledore commented.

"I've found that I prefer to be cynical and occasionally wrong than idealistic and constantly disappointed." Harry retorted, sitting up on the bed and grabbing his wand from the nearby table. "What happened after I passed out?"

"Professor Lupin arrived just in time to drive off the dementor."

"Lupin?" Harry asked sharply, recognizing the name of one of his parents supposed friends.

"Am I to take it that you know of him already?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

"I've heard of him." Harry said with a shrug, inwardly cursing his own reaction. There was no need to inform the old meddler what he knew and what he didn't.

"The dementor affected you most severely, my boy. I don't suppose you know why?" Dumbledore asked, changing the subject when he saw that Harry had no intention of talking about it. He didn't want to come off as overly pushy and alienate him.

Harry remembered the way that his runes had burned with cold fire in the dementor's presence. As far as he understood it, a wizard's magic was not physically part of their body, so it was no doubt having magic bound to so closely his body that had caused the effect.

Not that he was going to volunteer that information.

"I don't know." He lied. "Frankly, I'm more interested in why it attacked me specifically."

Dumbledore wasn't entirely convinced that he wasn't being lied to. The strange way that the boy's magic was infused into his body and some of his organs did not look like anything he'd ever seen before, nor did it look natural. A wizard's magic simply did not work that way normally.

More to the point, Harry's body appeared to be....too old. It was something of a sketchy assessment since there were no spells that determined the age of a person, but Madam Pomfrey's examination as well as the one he'd performed before the boy had woken up pointed to a level of maturity of someone in their mid teens.

There was an off chance that it had somehow occured naturally, but it was far more likely to be the result of something that Harry had done to himself.

He was terribly curious about it, but once again decided not to push. He needed Harry to trust him, and he'd learned a long time ago that asking uncomfortable questions did not inspire trust.-

"I see. Should you should ever discover the cause, I would appreciate it if you would indulge an old man's curiosity. It is not often that I encounter something new."

That would hopefully let Harry know that he did not intend to judge and could possibly even help. If the boy was half as smart as he suspected, then he would catch the implication. It was crucial that the boy see him as a mentor, and for that to happen, Dumbledore had to act like one.

"Of course, sir." Harry lied with a smile, swinging his legs out of the bed. It hadn't escaped his notice that Dumbledore had neglected to answer his implied question about why the dementor had attacked him.

"Madam Pomfrey will be most upset if you leave the infirmary without her permission." The old wizard said, seeing that the boy was intent on leaving.

"That's too bad, but I feel fine and I'm not staying in bed just to make her feel better."

"It is unfortunate that I still need to speak to Poppy about something." Dumbledore said, also getting on his feet, completely unphased by the boy's surly attitude. He didn't much like being a patient either. "I hope that you will not use this opportunity to sneak to Ravenclaw tower while her attention is elsewhere."

Harry raised an eyebrow as the elderly wizard walked off towards the healer's office and then shrugged. If Dumbledore wanted to give him a distraction while he escaped, then that was fine with him.

XXXXX

"Harry!"

The shout greeted him almost as soon as he entered the Ravenclaw common room, attracting the attention of several of the upper years as well.

Ginny all but smashed into him in her eagerness to give him a hug, which Harry returned awkwardly for a moment before gently pushing her away.

"Hello Harry." Luna greeted much more calmly, though it was obvious to anyone who knew her that she was relieved to see him.

"Hi."

"What happened to you?" Ginny all but demanded. "The dementors were pretty hard on me and Luna, but you looked like you'd frozen to death! They had to portkey you to the infirmary."

Harry's eyebrows went up at that. He hadn't known that bit.

"Nearly having your soul sucked out is apparently bad for your health." He joked.

"No doubt." Luna agreed. "Would you be willing to speak about your near-soulless experience in an interview with the Quibbler?"

"That's not funny." Ginny scolded, glaring at them both.

"Err...sure, Luna. We can do it tomorrow." Harry offered, quirking a smile at Ginny's even more pronounced scowl.

He couldn't help but find the whole thing a bit ridiculous. Both Luna and Ginny were a bit on the petite side, which meant that he now towered over them by a considerable margin. Even if he was only a year older than them, it was sometimes hard not to feel like he was hanging around kids that were three or four years younger than him, especially in light of the things he'd been up to during the summer.

"Alright there, Harry?"

The question was accompanied by a hand on his shoulder and he turned to look at the year's Head Girl, Penelope Clearwater. He noted with some shock that the girl who had occasionally come to talk to him back in first year was now actually a shade shorter than him. Granted, Penelope was not prodigiously tall by any stretch, but it was still a bit of a surprise to find himself looking down at someone that had been nearly two feet taller than him only a couple of years ago.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He replied after a moment, giving the girl a smile. It was much easier to be confident around people when you weren't looking up at them.

"Good." Penelope said with a nod, returning his smile. "Try to stay away from the dementors in the future, yeah?"

"I'll try, I'd certainly prefer to kiss girls than dementors." Harry joked.

The Head Girl gave a short laugh, accompanied by a small blush at what could be taken as flirting if you squinted.

"Even I'd rather get kissed by a girl than a dementor." She joked back, inwardly very pleased at how different he was from the anti-social boy that he'd been in his first year. She'd always felt that Harry was trying too hard to isolate himself back then and it was gratifying to see that he'd loosened up a bit. She had no idea what had caused him to be so prickly with people when he'd started Hogwarts and she wasn't going to ask, but she did like to think that she'd helped him move past it.

"I can kiss you if you want." Luna offered out of the blue.

The joking mood screeched to a halt at Luna's words, everyone trying to figure out if she was serious or not.

"Is she joking or not? I can't tell." Penelope eventually asked, giving up on figuring it out.

"No idea, I can never tell either." Harry shrugged, being less affected due to experience.

"I'm as serious as a crumple-horned snorkack." Luna said firmly.

Which tells us nothing. Harry thought wryly, giving Penelope another shrug when she looked to him for clarification.

"Right." The Head Girl said after a moment, deciding to just ignore the small blonde's strangeness. "You three had better head off to bed, it's past your usual curfew already."

XXXXX

Penny had felt the assessing gazes of several other girls on her ever since Harry's appearance in the common room. It wasn't the first time that this had happened. Curious students had seen her talking to him before and had wanted to know what he was like since the boy tended to avoid social contact.

It felt a bit different this time though.

"So, Penny….." Opened up Bryanna Torres, a dark haired, blue eyed seventh year whose slightly olive skin tone betrayed a hint of medditeranean ancestry a few generations back. "….We saw you talking to Potter."

"Yeah, so?" Penny returned cautiously.

She and Bryanna had never really gotten along too well, the other girl possessing a cunning and ambition that should have by all rights landed her in Slytherin, as well as a beauty that drew many a boy's attention, whereas Penny was fairly plain and straightforward. Not that they were enemies or anything like that, but they hadn't really interacted since third year, when Bryanna had started moving in completely different social circles.

"He's looking pretty good." The other girl noted, too casually to be real.

And with that sentence Penny realized what Bryanna was aiming at.

It wouldn't be the first time that an ambitious girl from a Common House like Bryanna had targeted the younger Heir of a Noble House in an attempt to increase her own status.

It could theoretically happen the other way around as well, but it was much less likely. Witches, even those not of main Noble lines, were guarded far more carefully against that sort of thing. That had taken a while for Penny to wrap her mind around, being a muggleborn as she was. The Wizarding World's only definition for rape was a violent and/or magically compelled man-on-woman assault, which seemed especially strange to her with an equalizer like magic being present. Anyone proposing the idea of statutory rape to magicals received only baffled looks, as if the mere concept was lunacy. Even slipping someone love or lust potions was a legal grey area.

It was frankly astonishing that it happened as little as it did, though Penny knew that might simply be her ignorance on the subject.

The reason for Bryanna's sudden interest in Harry was unlikely to be his looks, but rather his money and status. His youth would only make him a more tempting target because it would leave him vulnerable. Heirs of Noble Houses weren't normally subjected to this kind of thing because they had parents who could easily ruin a girl's family and future in the Wizarding World for attempting to install herself as the future Lady of a Noble House in such a manner.

Harry had no parents to protect him however.

"He's only thirteen, Bryanna." She said disapprovingly in an attempt to get the other girl to back off.

"Funny, he doesn't look thirteen." Bryanna countered with a smirk, abandoning subtlety since it was obvious that her intentions had been guessed.

Penny had noticed that, it was in all honesty hard not to, but it didn't change the fact that Harry Potter was thirteen and thus entirely too young to be dealing with the advances of a girl four years his senior.

The problem was that she couldn't even go to anyone about this.

Professor Flitwick was a great teacher, but he was part goblin and had certain goblin sensibilities. A refusal to meddle in other people's issues being one of them.

Headmaster Dumbledore would just wave it off like he waved off everything. For all the respect that Penny had for the aged wizard, he tended to be extremely hands off. Snape was a good example.

McGonagall would simply refer her to Dumbledore.

Even if she could have gone to anyone about it, it would make her a lot of enemies in Ravenclaw that could make her life very difficult for the rest of the year.

What a mess. She'd just have to warn Harry and hope for the best, which Bryanna was probably expecting her to do anyway. Hopefully her ambitious fellow Ravenclaw was overestimating her own appeal.

Bryanna and her groupies spent another twenty minutes attempting to get information on Harry out of her, but Penny was for once glad to be fairly clueless. The green-eyed boy was not exactly liberal with information on himself, so they had little to go on. It wouldn't stop them of course, but it wasn't going to be as easy as they'd hoped.

Chapter Text

Among the myriad of Dark Creatures in the world, none are as foul as the dementor. Their origins are unknown, though it is speculated that they form in places of great suffering, though it is equally likely that it is the other way around and that it is their presence that makes a place miserable. There are records of their presence in other locales around Europe, but Azkaban is the only place that one may reliably find a dementor in recent times.

Several Dark Lords have been able to rally them to their cause over the centuries. Many a Dark Wizard has also lost their soul in the attempt, making any attempted alliance with them a dangerous undertaking.

Classified as a Non-Being, the dementor is not truly alive and thus cannot truly die. The Patronus Charm is the only spell known to have any effect on them and it is also by means of this spell that the British Ministry of Magic keeps control of the creatures. Though even the strongest Patroni will not destroy a dementor, it appears to cause them enough discomfort or even what passes for pain that they can be threatened with it.

The exact level of intelligence possesed by dementors is unknown, but is presumed to be fairly close to sapience, as they are able to understand speech and recognize certain individuals.

Harry closed the book and stared at it thoughtfully. It had contained far less information on dementors than he'd hoped, but the mention of the Patronus Charm was certainly useful. He would make it his business to learn that particular spell as soon as possible.

Being helpless as the soul sucking abomination advanced on him was not an experience he cared to repeat.

Unfortunately, the book offered no hints as to why it had targeted him in particular. There was a chance that he, Ginny and Luna simply had more traumatic pasts that the other students, but there was no way to verify that short of interrogating all of Hogwarts and there was no guarantee that it was even the reason for the dementor's keen interest in him.

The entire incident had also raised several other questions in his mind that he would now very much like to have answered.

What was a soul? How was it connected to his magic? Why had the dementor's presence frozen his magic? What was the Dark?

Unsettling as the near death experience had been, it had also posed so many fascinating questions about magic and revealed truths that he had previously scoffed at. He now knew with absolute certainty that there was indeed something Dark about magic, which likely meant that there was also Light. He still strongly doubted the popular interpretation of it, but he could no longer discount the entire concept.

His own experiences with the capricious nature of his runes made him equally wary of both. For all that people liked to equate good with Light and Dark with evil, Harry suspected that neither was particularly benign when meddled with.

XXXXX

Harry observed Lupin carefully as the man lectured the class on the subject of boggarts, wondering what to make of him.

According to Charlus and Dorea, Lupin had been a dear friend of his parents, but a few things simply did not add up.

He had no memories of him ever being over for a visit before Voldemort had attacked the Potter home, unlike Sirius and Pettigrew. Furthermore, unlike those two, Lupin had been neither imprisoned nor dead, and yet he had never come to check on the son of his dead friends.

Even assuming that he hadn't known where Harry was, it had been two years now since his return to the Wizarding World. Surely the man could have dropped by? Stranger still, he hadn't even attempted to approach Harry since the school year had begun. The whole dementor thing would have been a perfect excuse, but Lupin seemed content to pretend that Harry was just another student to him.

All around strange behavior for someone that was supposed to have been a very close friend of his parents.

"Who wants to go first?"

The question knocked Harry out of his thoughts as the class formed a line in a sort of ordered chaos.

Most of his classmates had understandable fears, that being all sorts of monsters. There was one Hufflepuff girl whose name Harry couldn't recall that had a giant carnivorous tomato for some bizzare reason though.

Everyone was generally able to turn their fear into something funny and laugh at the transformed boggart, which got Harry to thinking again.

He'd come across the boggart while researching dementors a few days ago and had been puzzled. It was a Non-Being just like the soul sucking monsters currently haunting every entrance into Hogwarts, but a decidedly more benign one. Little more than a pest really, as the only conceivable way for a boggart to actually hurt someone was through shock induced heart attack or maybe scaring someone off a ledge.

Yet for all of that, Harry could still feel a little piece of Dark from the shape shifter. It was tiny in comparison to the dementor on the train, but it was definitely there. Fascinating.

He knew what he would see once his turn came up. Aside from a few memorable occasions of nearly traumatising himself with a horror themed video game back when he'd been nine, there was only one thing that came to mind when he thought of his fears.

The boggart transformed into a perfect copy of the dementor from the train, but it was not nearly as frightening. It could change its form all it wanted, but it could not replicate the same sense of Dark. He wasn't afraid of the dementor's outer sppearance so much as he was of what it represented, which was not something that could be faked.

He was shocked however, when he began to feel a familiar misery seep into his mind, ignoring Aul'El and his Occlumency like they were nothing just like the dementor had done. Similarly, he felt a weak chill in his runes and a more intangible chill in his magic. It wasn't even close to being as powerful, but the mere fact that it could replicate even a tiny speck of a true dementor's power implied all sorts of interesting things.

Lupin jumped in front of him then, perhaps mistaking his surprised staring at the boggart for paralyzing fear.

The boggart instantly transformed into the silvery sphere of a full moon, which Lupin quickly turned into a balloon and sent fluttering away.

What a strange thing to be afraid of.

XXXXX

Remus sighed heavily once the third year Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff class left the room, taking with it the son of his friends.

He had no idea what to do about Harry.

He had never seen the boy as a baby, they had already started pushing him away by then, suspecting him of being a spy for Voldemort.

He understood their reasoning. He was a werewolf and werewolves had been Voldemort's allies during the war. The Ministry and its oppressive werewolf legislation made sure of that, though Fenrir Greyback would have undoubtedly allied with him either way. It didn't make the experience any less bitter for Remus though, who would have died for his friends in a heartbeat.

James, Sirius, Peter and later Lily had been the closest thing to pack that non-werewolves could be, and they had cast him out. For all that Remus tried his hardest to suppress and deny the beast within, he could not do it completely. From that place inside his soul where the wolf resided most of the time, it had howled its grief and fury at being so betrayed.

When Harry was born, Remus had been in Germany, ostensibly speaking to the werewolves there about a possible alliance with the Order of the Phoenix or at least staying neutral. In retrospect it had been to get him away from Britain and any possible information that he could have passed on to Voldemort.

When James and Lily had been killed a year later, he'd still been in Germany, though he had long since stopped talking to the werewolves there. He'd grown rather bitter and resentful of the suspicion everyone had of him and decided to simply not go back to Britain if that's how they were going to be. Their deaths, Peter's death and Sirius' betrayal had hit him hard despite the gulf that had grown between them and he'd never mustered the will to go back.

Then came Dumbledore's letter, asking him to teach DADA in Hogwarts. It was a job that he'd never dreamed he'd be able to have with his condition, but he had still been hesitant to return to Britain. The werewolf laws in Germany were better than in Britain. Not by much, but enough that he had been able to keep a job. Not a great or enjoyable job, but a job that allowed him to eat and have a roof over his head.

But he owed Dumbledore a lot and he had always wanted to teach, so he had come back despite his misgivings and now he was faced with Lily's eyes looking out from James' face, both of them too old to belong on a thirteen year old.

Dumbledore had been stingy on the details of Harry's life when questioned, which Remus figured was a ploy to make him actually talk to the boy himself.

But it was so hard. What was he supposed to say to the son of the people who had been like family to him? Family that had cast him out, but who he had still loved.

XXXXX

Dinner time in the Great Hall.

"Hey, Potter! I heard you nearly wet yourself in front of a boggart yesterday."

Harry sighed at the continued idiocy of one Draco Malfoy. The blond Slytherin hadn't stopped trying to mock him over the dementor incident on the train since the start of term and had apparently gotten a second wind upon hearing that his boggart was also a dementor.

"I'd like to see what you'd be like in front of a dementor, Malfoy!" Ginny retorted angrily, face beginning to flush with the well known temper of redheads everywhere. "From what Fred and George told me, you ran into their compartment and all but begged them to protect you from it on the train."

"Shut your mouth, Weaslette!" Malfoy shouted at her, his own pale face developing a few blotches of red.

"Excellent comeback, Malfoy. That sure proved her wrong." Harry said dryly, finding the blond idiot's taunts tiresome at best. The whole experience had gotten so repetitive that not even his runes could be bothered to prickle. It was kind of like constantly being bothered by a yippy little dog.

Malfoy's anger swelled further at the dismissive tone. He loathed being brushed off and that was exactly what Potter had been doing ever since first year, treating him like he didn't even matter. Aside from that one incident at the start of second year when he'd thrown a goblet at his face that was.

"It's too bad the dementor didn't Kiss all three of you and remove some of the filth from the world." He snarled furiously.

There was a series of gasps from the Ravenclaws around them, shocked that he would say something like that.

Harry was unphased though, having been exposed to the internet for years and having many an angry twelve year old threaten to fuck his mother or worse. The fact that he had been ten at the time only served to make him feel more mature than his age warranted.

"I could say the same about you and your pet apes, but I won't. But I could."

Draco managed to look even more constipated at Harry's lack of reaction and opened his mouth to say something else when he was beaten to the punch.

During this entire time, Luna had been focusing on her food to the exclusion of all else, but now that her mashed potatoes were shaped like a castle with a little gravy moat, the conversation going on around her finally penetrated her focus.

"Draco? When did you get here?"

Her polite question had the Malfoy scion spluttering in pure rage, believing that he was being mocked by the crazy second year, who was clearly acting like he was so unimportant as to be beneath her notice.

An understandable assumption, but completely wrong. Luna had simply been putting a lot of effort into her potato castle.

The perceived insult had him reaching for his wand, though he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with it yet.

"Malfoy!" A different female voice cut into the action. "Ten points from Slytherin and detention for drawing your wand on another student."

"How dare you?!" Draco yelled at her at the top of his lungs, outraged well past the point of reason. The nerve of the mudblood to give him a detention!

"I quite agree with Ms. Clearwater, Mr. Malfoy." Flitwick chimed in from where he'd approached behind the Slytherin. "Drawing a wand on another student outside of a classroom and without the supervision of a professor is a serious offense."

"When my father hears about this….." Draco seethed, putting his wand away and stomping off.

Harry shook his head in disbelief at the antics of the blond idiot. If there was anything that proved that the Sorting Hat could be convinced to sort according to a student's wishes, it was Malfoy's placement in Slytherin. The boy was clearly a Gryffindor.

He raised his goblet of water towards Penny in a mocking sort of toast for helping to get rid of the pest, exchanging amused smiles with her. No doubt the muggleborn Head Girl had taken her own measure of enjoyment in smacking down the uppity pureblood.

His eyes went further up the table towards the seventh year girl that she had warned him about, seeing her already looking at him. Deciding to be a bit adventurous, he winked at her.

Bryanna's eyebrows shot up in surprise before a smirk stretched across her face. This might be easier than she'd thought.

"Did you just wink at that seventh year?" Ginny demanded in a harsh whisper.

"So what if I did?" He asked back, not liking her tone. If Bryanna was going to do what he suspected she was going to do, then he fully intended to take advantage of the situation and shag her silly. If Ginny couldn't deal with that, then they were going to have a problem.

Taken aback by the confrontational response, Ginny quickly backpedaled. "Uh, nothing…I just, uh, wanted to know why."

That had to be the worst lie that Harry had ever heard, but he didn't call her out on it. He wasn't interested in dealing with Ginny's crush on him and felt more certain that he would never feel the same with every day. She just felt too much like a kid to him for that, even if he was only a year older than her. His accelerated growth was making a mess of his personal relationships, making him too old in physical maturity to fit in with his peers but too young in years to fit in with those older than him. He was doing his best to ignore that bit of discomfort since he knew that there was nothing he could do about it, but he was poignantly aware of it. The last time that he'd felt truly comfortable around another person had been with Zoe, which said a lot about the situation considering their arrangement.

"I just felt like it." He told her, his tone making it clear that the subject was closed.

The redhead went into a sulky silence and started pushing around the food on her plate, appetite gone at being shut down like that.

Luna stared at Harry and started blinking furously.

"Luna, what are you doing?" He asked, looking at her strangely.

"I'm winking at you because I feel like it." She replied, still blinking furiously.

"That's blinking, not winking." He informed her.

"No Harry, it's definitely winking." She insisted.

"Winking is only done with one eye." He reasoned.

"This is double winking."

A laugh burbled up Harry's throat at the ridiculosuness of it all, leaving him chuckling into his goblet for quite a while, made worse by the fact that Luna was still double winking at him like she had something to prove.

"Don't ever change, Luna. Don't ever change." He told her, still chuckling. Whether she had done it on purpose or not, the slightly irritable mood that Ginny had put him in was gone now.

XXXXX

There were two spells that Harry felt he needed to learn as soon as possible.

The first was the standard contraceptive charm that prevented pregnancy, because of the high chance of getting laid. It had once seen some fairly widespread use, but had since been phased out in favor of a potion that needed to be taken once a month.

Both had to be applied to the woman, which presented something of a problem for Harry. He would have honestly preferred a spell or potion that would simply make him infertile for a while, but it apparently didn't exist. Not that he would trust a potion to work on him with his most recent set of runes, but it was the principle of the thing.

He was incredibly grateful for the fact that Zoe had insisted on a condom despite being on the pill. The possibility of getting a girl pregnant at his age made him queasy just thinking about it. He was nowhere near ready to be a father.

He was probably just overthinking it, as both the spell and potion were highly reliable, but he still would have liked to have the extra security.

The second was the Patronus, the reason for which was obvious. The dementors floating around the castle made him nervous.

It was a rather interesting spell with the way it needed to be charged with a happy emotion and there was an extra tidbit of knowledge on the dementors in the description as well.

Apparently, the reason why the Patronus was effective against them was because it was a purely positive force that couldn't feel despair. It was anathema to them. The book didn't explain how a Patronus avoided falling prey to the dementor's ability to nullify other spells, but Harry figured that there was something about the emotion charged into it that blocked that ability.

It was also a very difficult spell because it took some seriously powerful happy thoughts to form it properly. This was a problem, because Harry couldn't think of anything like that off the top of his head. His life was comfortable and pleasant aside from a few irritants like Malfoy, Snape and his foster parents, but it had no outstanding moments of happiness either.

The happiest thing he could think of on short notice was the time he'd spent with Zoe, but he somehow doubted that the memory of a fun day and the physical pleasure that followed would cut it. Still worth a try, but Harry wasn't holding his breath on it.

"That's some pretty advanced magic you're studying."

Harry jumped slightly at the unexpected voice, having been so deeply absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed anyone coming up behind him.

"Sorry if I scared you, I just couldn't help noticing that you were studying the Patronus Charm." Bryanna said with a smile, taking a seat next to him. "Dementors making you nervous?"

"You could say that." Harry replied, wondering what her angle was. Coming up to him and starting up a conversation like this was more than a bit odd considering their lack of previous interaction, but he was willing to play along with it for now.

"Me too, I can't believe that Fudge thinks posting those monsters around a school is a good idea." Bryanna commented.

"He must be pretty worried about Black." Harry responded noncommittally. Everything he'd heard about the current Minister of Magic made him out to be something of a buffoon, but he wasn't going to share that opinion just yet.

"I'm surprised that you aren't."

"I've got a feeling that I'm in a lot more danger from the dementors than from Black." He said wryly.

"You're probably right about that." Bryanna agreed. "Any luck learning the Patronus?"

"I haven't gotten around to attempting it yet." Harry told her honestly.

"Want to give it a try together?" She asked with a smile. "Hogwarts doesn't teach that spell and I'd like to know it just in case."

Harry looked at her speculatively for a few seconds, wondering if she was seriously intending to act like this conversation had happened by mere chance. Eventually he just shrugged and agreed to her suggestion. She seemed smart and her desire to learn the Patronus was probably genuine even if she was using it as a pretense to get close to him, so having her along might help with learning the spell at least with the aid of a wand.

XXXXX

"Expecto Patronum!"

The problem, Harry decided, was definitely mustering together enough happiness on demand to cast the spell.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Not to mention that the book had not been particularly heavy on the details. Was the type of happiness important? Could a sadist conjure a Patronus by thinking of all the people he'd tortured?

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

It seemed unlikely that such a twisted form of happiness would work. This consequently meant that the source of that happiness had to be an important component. Following that train of logic, there surely had to be one or more specific types of happy memories that would work better than others.

"You know, learning the spell might work better if you actually tried to cast it." Bryanna said peevishly.

"I like to think about what I'm doing before waving my wand around." Harry said back, not really sparing the older Ravenclaw too much attention, making her huff.

A properly cast Patronus called a spectral guardian into existence, so it was probable that thoughts of safety would work best.

"Expecto Patronum!"

But safety wasn't in and of itself a happy thought. Perhaps thoughts of protection? A strong guardian standing between the caster and the world, someone held close, loved and respected.

"Expecto Patronum!"

That could be a problem if it was the case. Harry couldn't think of a single adult, or indeed anyone at all, that he would trust to protect him.

"It's not working." Bryanna said in a not-quite whine, clearly frustrated.

Well of course it wasn't. Judging by the frequency of her attempts, she was probably cycling through her memories and hoping to pick the right one by accident, or perhaps she was trying to somehow force the spell into working through sheer repetition. That kind of approach was the province of meatheaded warriors swinging around giant shafts of sharpened steel, not mages. Her frustration at the lack of success had turned into the reason for the lack of success.

Weren't Ravenclaws supposed to be thoughtful intellectuals that considered things carefully before acting? I guess you can't rely on stereotypes all the time.

Deciding to finally give the spell a try, Harry stopped pacing the room and drew his wand.

With a deep breath he focused on the most memorable event in his life where he'd felt like an adult could protect him. Ironically, it was a memory that the dementors seemed to enjoy bringing to mind when in his presence, that being the death of his mother at the hands of Voldemort.

Not a particularly cheerful thought, but learning of the lengths that his mother had gone to in order to protect him did bring him a measure of happiness. Deliberately setting yourself up as a sacrifice to protect someone else was the most powerful demonstration of love there was.

A silvery mist left his wand, hovering in the air for a moment before dissipating.

Bryanna stared at him in disbelief.

"How in Merlin's name did you do that? You've spent the past hour just pacing around the room and then you manage to get some results on the first try without even saying the incantation."

"Calm down, take your time and think of a memory where you feel safe and protected, then concentrate on channeling that feeling into the spell." Harry advised.

Bryanna looked dubious, but did as she was told nonetheless.

"Expecto Patronum!"

A familiar silvery mist left her wand.

"I did it!" She exclaimed happily, jumping to give him a hug.

Harry noticed that she had rather strategically shoved his face into her breasts. They were very nice breasts, a little bigger than Zoe's if he wasn't mistaken. He felt his body respond and his runes tingle, but controlled it tightly.

"Congratulations." He told her once she let go, idly wondering how much of her current behavior was an act designed to sucker a naïve thirteen year old into developing a crush on her. She was acting somewhat differently than how Penny had described her.

"Thanks, now why don't you try it again, this time with the incantation."

"No."

"Why not?" She almost demanded. "If you were able to get a mist out without one, then you're bound to have more success if you try casting it properly."

"I'd rather put in a little extra effort to learn it silently than shout gibberish into the air." He replied dryly.

"I don't understand you at all, it's like you enjoy making things harder on yourself." She said in exasperation.

Harry wondered what she'd think of the fact that he wouldn't even be bothering with a wand if she wasn't here. She might not understand why he wanted to do things the hard way, but he didn't understand why everyone else wanted to cripple themselves by relying on their wands so much.

"Maybe I just like the challenge?" He offered with a small grin.

Bryanna looked at him oddly for a moment and then let out an amused chuckle.

"We've been here for a while, you want to get something to eat?" She asked with a brilliant smile.

Harry's stomach gurgled in agreement with the idea. It had been nearly two hours since the last time he'd eaten.

XXXXX

"….and that's when I learned that combining Arithmancy and Divination doesn't really let you accurately predict the future, especially if Divination is taught by a drunken fraud like Trelawney." Bryanna finished.

Harry hummed in agreement around a particularly a mouthful of particularly juicy carrot.

Ginny glared sullenly at the older girl, resenting her presence with the fiery wrath of an insecure preteen who was sure that the pretty seventh year was trying to catch Harry's interest and doing a far better job than she ever had.

"Are you going to put your penis in her vagina, Harry?" Luna asked dreamily.

Harry spat out the half-masticated carrot in surprise.

"What?" He croaked out.

"That's what Ginny's nargles are screaming at me."

"Well, Harry? Answer the girl, are you going to put your penis in my va~gi~na?" Bryanna sing-songed with a salacious smirk, having recovered from her surprise the fastest. The little blonde friend of Harry's was quite the character.

Though caught off guard by the bold question, Harry gamely ignored the heat creeping up his neck and looked her in the eye.

"Anything is possible."

"Truer words have never been spoken." Luna agreed, thinking of all the snorkacks that were just waiting to be discovered.

Ginny rose to her feet in a single violent motion and stomped off.

"What's her problem?" Bryanna asked, knowing perfectly well what the redhead's problem was.

"She might still be upset about not having any boobies for Harry to look at." Luna hazarded a guess.

Harry let out a weak chuckle. He had a feeling that this was going to be the event that ended the friendship between him and Ginny. He'd found the redhead annoying at times, but she had become a friend. He wasn't going to change his behavior to appease her though. It wasn't like he owed her anything and this stupid crush of hers was really the thing that bothered him the most about her. She could either get over it or sulk about it, but it would be entirely on her.

XXXXX

Harry sighed despondently in his Ancient Runes class. It was just so boring. He'd already learned all of this on his own back in first year.

An unfair thought perhaps, since the class was no doubt pretty challenging to everyone who didn't have a two year head start, but that didn't chage the fact that he was just wasting his time here. He'd had the same problem in Artihmancy, except worse since he'd needed to study that one even more in depth for his rituals.

"Mr. Potter, stay behind please." Professor Babbling said when the class was over.

Malfoy threw him a mocking look on his way out, which Harry ignored. The blond ponce currently had his arm bandaged as if he'd been grievously injured by that hippogriff in his Care of Magical Creatures class, but everyone knew that he was faking it. Well, Parkinson seemed to be buying it and Malfoy's two pet goons probably didn't have enough brain cells between them to see it, but everyone with any sense knew that he was faking it.

According to Luna, who had heard it from Ginny, who had heard it from Ron, he was playing up the injury to make the hippogriff in question, Buckbeak, look more like a vicious monster than it actually was and get it executed. The ponce had apparently ignored Hagrid's instructions and provoked it and was now looking to get it killed in a spectacular example of pettiness. Malfoy truly did live up to the spoiled rich brat stereotype.

"I've noticed that you don't seem to be paying attention during class." Babbling commented once they were alone.

"I'm sorry, Professor. It's just that….." Harry started, not sure how to word it.

"You already know the subject matter." She finished for him.

"Yeah." He said with a nod.

"I thought this might happen." She said, rubbing her forehead in consternation. "Professor Vector tells me that it's the same with her?"

Harry simply nodded in confirmation.

This presented a problem for both Bathsheda and Septima. Both of them were rather fond of Harry, who they had gotten to know from his occasional visits over the past two years. Both of them had also been looking forward to having him in their class, but it served nobody if his time was being wasted going over things that he already knew. It wasn't often that a student came around who wanted to study ahead and they didn't want him to start resenting the time he spent in their class simply because he was too far ahead to benefit from it.

"If the opportunity were made available to you, would you want to stop attending Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and replace it with private tutoring from myself and Professor Vector?" She asked.

Harry's eyes widened at the offer. Private tutoring would allow him to accomplish more in less time, work at his preferred pace instead of the one set for a class of wildly different ability and actually make progress instead of waiting for everyone else to catch up to him.

"That would be perfect."

It was kind of funny actually. He'd never been this studious before coming to Hogwarts. But then again, he hadn't been learning magic back then either.

"I will need to speak to the Headmaster about this arrangement, but I don't foresee any problems." Bathsheda said, feeling that she'd made the right decision by making him this offer.

It would give both her and Septima some extra work, but they felt that it was worth it. Neither of their classes often got a student that seemed to have a genuine passion for their respective subjects and they were terribly reluctant to slow him down to the pace of the others.

XXXXX

"Harry, could I talk to you in private for a moment?" Ginny asked awkwardly.

Harry was somewhat surprised that the redhead had actually approached him. She'd been avoiding contact with him for a couple of weeks now, ever since that one time that Bryanna had joined them for lunch.

He knew that Luna had tried to play mediator and get Ginny out of whatever funk she'd worked herself into, but there hadn't been any apparent success.

"Alright." He said with a shrug and followed her to an out of the way room that looked like it hadn't been used in forever.

"I've been talking to some people…." Ginny started, her voice full of conviction. "Harry, that seventh year is just trying to get her hands on your money or take advantage of your fame."

Harry stared at her incredulously for a few moments and then started laughing.

"She is!" Ginny near yelled. "Just think about it. Why would a girl that old suddenly start spending time with you?"

"Ginny, I know." He said, still chuckling.

"You know?!" She blurted out incredulously. "Then why are you still hanging around her?"

"I'm waiting to see how far she's willing to go." He told her honestly.

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a while before it dawned on her what he meant.

"You're just going along with it because you want to see her naked?!"

"Oh, I'm hoping she goes a lot further than that." Harry replied, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Ginny stared at him some more, then started to look almost heartbroken.

"What happened to you, Harry?" She asked sadly. "You didn't used to be like this."

"I believe the technical term is 'puberty'." Harry grumbled sarcastically. Why were people in the Wizarding World so surprised that he wasn't some kind of saint? Oh right, because of those fucking Harry Potter books. Even after knowing him for a year now, Ginny still occasionally made assumptions about his personality based on those. The fact that he was making money off them now was their only redeeming quality.

"Look, I know that you have a crush on me." He started, ignoring the way her face flushed at having it openly stated like that. He'd ignored it the previous year in the hope that she'd get over it herself, but enough was enough. "But nothing is ever going to come of it. I don't like you that way and I never will."

"Why not?" Ginny demanded, looking simultaneously angry and upset. "Is it because my boobs aren't big enough for the great Harry Potter?"

"Essentially, yes." He said bluntly, deciding to ignore her almost Malfoy-esque insult. "You're just a kid."

"I'm only a year younger than you!" She screeched in outrage, reminding Harry poignantly of the time that her mother had sent a howler to Fred and George.

"I like older women." He retorted.

This gained him another outraged scream, though this time it was wordless and accompanied by an angry exit, complete with door slam.

Harry sighed in the empty room, wondering how this was going to play out. At least that silly crush was probably dead and buried now, Mystra be praised.

XXXXX

"So, how goes Project Potter?"

Bryanna looked back at the Slytherin seventh year who had asked the question, seeing the same curiousity in the eyes of the other two as well.

Aside from her, the group consisted of Slytherin Tiana Day, Gryffindor Jade Dawson and fellow Ravenclaw Isabel Morris.

Aside from the two Ravenclaws, they had only become friendly with each other the previous year when they began contemplating the future and finding it lacking. Inter-house rivalries had suddenly started looking petty when faced with the fact that school was coming to a close and the uncertain future that lay beyond it.

None of them had liked the conclusions they'd come to about their likely futures, from which their current plan, jokingly called 'Project Potter', had come together.

"Honestly, not as well as I'd hoped." Bryanna admitted with a sigh. "He's not the bumbling boy I expected him to be, not even close. He's still young, but he must have some prior experience with women. He's too self assured around me not to."

The other girls looked both thoughtful and disgruntled by that, no doubt thinking who that experience could have been with.

"So you're saying that someone already got to him last year?" Tiana asked with a frown.

"I don't know, maybe. Either way, I don't think I'll be able to sucker him into falling for me."

"We could slip him some Amortentia." Jade suggested.

"Don't be ridiculous." The Slytherin girl snapped, continuing with a sneer that was aimed more at the situation than at the Gryffindor girl. "If it gets out that a bunch of 'commoners' dosed the Heir of a Noble House with a love potion they'll feed us to the dementors."

Left unsaid was the fact that if it happened the other way around, it would have merited a slap on the wrist at best.

"It's too bad that Clearwater wouldn't help us with this, she's been friendly with Potter since his first year." Isabel sighed.

"Clearwater's a muggleborn." Bryanna said dismissively.

"True."

They all had a muggleborn or second generation parent and had nothing against muggleborns, nor did they buy into the 'purity of magical blood' claptrap. The problem with muggleborns was that they didn't really grasp the situation in Wizarding Britain until after they left Hogwarts, by which time it was often too late. They had themselves heard it from their parents, but it hadn't truly sunk in until last year.

The old Noble Houses controlled pretty much everything; the government, the law, the money and the media. The Wizengamot was hereditary, which meant that the judicial branch of the government was also hereditary. It was in theory possible to climb the ranks in the Ministry regardless of blood status, but in practice you didn't get very far if you weren't 'the right sort' according to the purebloods that ran it or at least had a powerful patron. Not all of those Noble Houses were bigots, but there were enough of them to cause a lot of problems.

The real problem though, was money. The old Houses had it and everyone else…..didn't. Pureblood, halfblood or muggleborn, all of it was subordinate to the almighty galleon.

The Common Houses consisted of families that had been around for a few generations already, but couldn't really rise in status because the old traditionalists were doing their absolute best to keep the Wizarding World static, usually by maintaining a market monopoly and preventing any uppity Common Houses from getting as rich as them. The only simple way to actually manage a class jump was to marry into a Noble House and there weren't many Heirs that would look twice at a non-pureblood. Lily Evans had probably never quite understood what a lucky break in terms of personal status she'd caught with James Potter, though she hadn't lived long enough for it to really matter.

"Shag him." Tiana suddenly stated.

"What?" The rest of them blurted out in surprise. They were aware that it would likely progress to that point eventually, but this was a bit sudden.

"Shag him." The other girl repeated, keeping her eyes fixed on Bryanna. "If you can't manipulate your way into becoming the next Lady Potter then shagging him is the next best thing."

"I don't know, Tiana. That's a pretty extreme escalation and there's no guarantee that anything would come of it." Isabel said uncertainly.

"It's our last year here and he's the only one we can mess with safely. The only other Heirs we could try to cozy up to that wouldn't backfire on us are Longbotton and Bones. One is a nervous wreck and none of us have a cock to use on the other, not to mention that both Augusta Longbottom and Amelia Bones would destroy us if we moved on them. I'd do it myself, but I can't slip into his room at night since I'm not in Ravenclaw."

"Do you think it would work?" Bryanna asked thoughtfully.

"You can't seriously be thinking of doing this." Jade said incredulously.

"Tiana has a point, this is our last year and it is the best chance we'll ever have." Bryanna replied pensively.

"I think it's worth a try." Tiana interjected before any more protests to the idea could be offered. "If we wait for him to get out of Hogwarts, he'll have women throwing themselves at him left and right just because he's rich and famous, which means that we'd be just another couple of sluts looking to shag the Boy-Who-Lived. If this is going to work, we have to do it before that happens."

"That sounds a lot like whoring ourselves out." Isabel said distastefully.

"You wouldn't be the one doing it!" Tiana snapped peevishly. "You've already got a boyfriend and Jade still thinks she can get Wood to mount her without transfiguring herself into a broom-"

"Hey!" Jade protested indignantly.

"-, however unlikely that is, so she's not going to do it either. That leaves me and Bry and I'll tell you right now that I would much rather shag that boy in every single broom cupboard in this damned castle than end up like my mother, working as a low level clerk for a pureblood boss that keeps taking credit for everything she does but can barely even wipe her own arse without a house elf to help her."

Tiana took a deep breath to calm down after her rant and continued in a much calmer tone. "The fact is that wastes of space like Flint and that little shit Malfoy are going to have everything handed to them simply because inbreeding is popular in this pisshole of a country. Screwing Potter wouldn't be whoring so much as it would be….an investment into the future. Either me or Bry, or hell, even both of us if we can find somewhere out of Ravenclaw tower to do it, shag him nice and lazy, talk him into investing into our little business venture while he's still blissed out and promise him a small stake in our future profits. Everybody wins and all it takes is getting a little sticky with what is actually a pretty handsome thirteen year old. If we're lucky he might even get us off."

While Isabel and Jade flushed in embarrassment like the virgins they were, Bryanna stared back at her Slytherin friend, carefully considering her arguments.

"I'll introduce you to him during the first Hogsmeade weekend."

"Both of us then?"

"Might as well. Better safe than sorry."

"And we can finish each other off if he turns out to be a disappointment?"

"There is also that, yes."

"I'll wait for you in the Three Broomsticks."

"Good, now we just have to find a room with a bed."

"I'll ask the house elves if they know any."

XXXXX

Halloween.

"I can't believe he's going to Hogsmeade with that tramp." Ginny muttered resentfully.

"She has-" Luna started, only to get cut off by the irate redhead.

"Nice boobies. Yes, I know."

She'd kept her distance from Harry ever since their argument. She simply found it impossible to get around the fact that he was stringing the seventh year girl along on the off chance that she'd jump into bed with him.

Not that Bryanna was spared her anger, since the older Ravenclaw was actually the instigator of the situation.

It just didn't make any sense to her. Harry was supposed to be a hero! Alright, fine, Ginny was willing to admit that the mental picture of him she'd had before meeting him wasn't entirely accurate, but he still hadn't been like this last year!

He'd defended her on the train when Malfoy had insulted her. He had tutored her and Luna when it became obvious that Lockhart didn't have the first clue about Defense Against the Dark Arts. He had quickly figured out the problem with the diary and helped Dumbledore deal with the basilisk. He might not have been the same Harry Potter as in the books, but there had been no doubt in Ginny's mind that he was a hero.

Now he was suddenly looking to get into a girl's knickers and getting mad at her for bringing it up. She had grudgingly accepted the fact that Luna might have a point about boys, but that had been just looking. The fact that he was actively working towards the goal of having meaningless sex with a girl he didn't even know was beyond her ability to accept.

The fact that he'd called her a kid and that he liked older women was another point of contention, especially in light of the fact that she could barely think about sex without blushing while he treated it so cavalierly.

So she'd distanced herself from Harry and waited for him to come apologize. Her brothers had always apologized to her when she got upset. They might drag their feet sometimes, but they always did it in the end.

But Harry wasn't her brother. Furthermore, he seemed to have no intention of trying to fix their friendship and now he was going to Hogsmeade on what could technically be called a date with a seventh year with no sign of being bothered by the situation.

Now she was starting to worry that there wouldn't be any apologies or making up. Indeed, it was looking as if there wouldn't even be a friendship anymore.

This wasn't how things were supposed to be and she had no idea what to do about it. Confused and upset by the way things were going, she reluctantly decided to write to her mother. She'd held off on it so far, not wanting to go running back to her mother to solve her problems, but she needed advice that wasn't a flat statement about boobies.

Luna was actually very smart beneath her absent demeanor, but she just didn't get it.

XXXXX

Luna watched as Ginny pinned her letter to one of the school owls and sighed.

She could understand the redhead's position, she really could, but it was just silly of her to be upset at Harry for being himself. If he wanted to play with Bryanna's boobies and she let him do it, then Luna could only smile at them and hope they had fun. The fact that Ginny was upset by it baffled her.

But Ginny was also being herself with her attempts to get Harry to stop being himself, so she didn't say anything. Hopefully, her failure would teach Ginny that you couldn't transfigure a person into a different person and they could all be friends again.

No matter how detailed you made a potato castle, it was still just a bunch of mashed potatoes . People could learn a lot from potatoes.

Ginny should have spent more time making and contemplating potato castles.

XXXXX

Harry wasn't quite as enthused about Hogsmeade as the other third years, owing both to his aversion for large crowds and the way that some people stared at him. On the other hand, he had a pretty girl on his arm and was able to feel shamelessly smug about the jealous looks he'd caught amidst the staring. The Hogwarts rumor mill had of course been hard at work spreading speculation about the status of their relationship based on limited information, which was now 'confirmed' by the two of them going to Hogsmeade together. This had seemingly elevated him into some kind of pseudo-legendary figure among the boys in his year and possibly even those in the year above him.

As for Hogsmeade itself, he thought that the little wizarding settlement was very…quaint. It was the only purely magical settlement in all of Great Britain according to Bryanna, which said quite a bit about how tiny the magical population had to be.

She had taken him on a short tour of the village and then suggested they go to the Three Broomsticks for a pint of butterbeer to warm up.

Morbidly curious if butterbeer was actually made of beer and melted butter and having no better ideas, he'd agreed.

Now he found himself sandwiched between Bryanna and a friend of hers that went by Tiana.

Bryanna and Tiana. If Tiana wasn't a pale, curly haired brunette with hazel eyes, they could've been twins with names like that.

Her convenient presence in the Three Broomsticks was unlikely to be a coincidence given that they were friends. The Slytherin crest and green trim on her robes also hinted at the fact that she might be an ambitious schemer.

"So Bry tells me that you've been helping her learn the Patronus." Tiana commented, casually letting her hand fall to his thigh.

"We've been helping each other." Harry replied, trying not to fidget as the familiar prickle of magic passed through the runes on his back, followed by the equally familiar lust.

"Don't be shy now, Harry." Bryanna teased, her own hand dropping to his other thigh. "I wouldn't be half as far in learning it if it wasn't for your insight."

Harry took a deep breath in a vain attempt to calm the dull fire going through his loins. It had been over two months now since his last rendezvous with Zoe and he was discovering that solo sessions of wand polishing were simply not having the same effect anymore. Bryanna's light teasing and seemingly innocent touches since the start of term certainly hadn't helped.

Now he had two very pretty girls giving him some very damned blatant signals and it was a struggle not to grab them by the hair, kiss them and then drag them to the first empty room he could find. He knew that this had to be because of whatever ambition they were hoping to use him for, but it didn't really make the situation easier.

The proprietor of the establishment decided to approach them at that point, and just so happened to be a curvaceous MILF in the first set of cleavage baring robes Harry had seen thus far. It was hard to say how old she was with the way that magic slowed down aging, but she was definitely rocking the mature older woman look.

"Well isn't this a familiar sight?" Madam Rosmerta drawled in an amused fashion.

"Excuse me?" Harry questioned after quickly clearing his throat to prevent any embarrassing breaks in his voice. He was just glad that Bryanna and Tiana had surreptitiously removed their hands from his thighs. That would've made it really hard to pay attention to any conversation.

"I was just reminded of your father and…his friends."

Harry noted the slight pause and correctly guessed that she had been about to mention Sirius.

"They liked to come in here too, often with girls on their arms. Shameless flirts they were."

Definitely been about to mention Sirius. Lupin did not come across as a very flirty individual and Pettigrew had been….unattractive, to put it lightly.

"I can certainly see why they would flirt with you." Harry replied, the words slipping from his tongue before he could even think to stop them.

Fortunately, Rosmerta only burst into laughter instead of taking offense.

"You really are your father's son, aren't you? Except that you're starting even younger. I'm Rosmerta, but you can call me Rosie." She said merrily. "You girls need to be careful around this one."

"I'm sure we can handle him." Tiana smirked, hand snaking out to give Harry's thigh quick squeeze.

"I'm sure." Rosmerta said with an answering smirk and adopted a more professional demeanour. "What can I get you?"

"Three butterbeers please." Bryanna ordered.

"Coming right up."

Harry took the opportunity to check out the proprietor's swaying rear end and found it to be just as appealing as the rest of her. Truly, magic was wonderful for preserving a woman's sex appeal well past the age when a non-magical female would have probably lost it already.

A quick look around the tavern let him know that the other patrons were mostly minding their own business, though Ginny's brother Ron seemed to be staring at him with an angry sort of jealousy from where he was sitting with his Gryffindor friends for some reason. That was pretty random, but it wasn't as if Ron was actually important.

"You know what, Bry? I think we aren't trying hard enough if Mr. Smooth here has time to flirt with Rosmerta." Tiana commented, sliding her hand a bit further up his thigh.

"I have to agree." Bryanna said, mirroring the action.

Harry held back a groan. It was going to be a long day, but like hell was he going to let himself be teased like this without retaliation.

"And what are you going to do about it?" He asked, boldly reaching out to return the teasing with a thigh squeeze of his own. Only to Bryanna though, as he hadn't known Tiana long enough to be quite that bold.

"Harry!" The way she breathed out his name, with a mix of surprise and pleasure, had to be just about the sexiest thing he'd ever heard.

"Tsk tsk, Potter. It's bad form to pay attention to just one of us and ignore the other." Tiana commented from his other side.

Knowing an invitation when he heard one, Harry reached out with his unoccupied hand to give her leg a squeeze too.

"That's better." The Slytherin girl said huskily.

"You three might want to cool off a bit." Rosmerta said as she deposited their butterbeers on the table, making the teens jump in surprise because they hadn't noticed her approach. "You're making me all hot and bothered just looking at you."

"Sorry." Harry said sheepishly, embarrassed by the gentle reprimand. Things really had been going a bit out of hand for a public space.

"I know how it is." She replied wistfully. "I used to be a teenager too once, a long time ago."

"Nonsense, you can't possibly be a day over thirty." Harry responded instantly in a knee jerk reaction that had actually been trained into him by Katherine for when she wanted some older woman to feel flattered by her 'charming son'. Inanely enough, it had been among her more effective schemes.

Apparently it worked on pub owning witches just as well as it did on snobby muggle women, as it sent Rosmerta into a peal of delighted laughter.

"You're quite the sweet talker, aren't you Harry?" She asked with a teasing lilt to her tone.

"I try." He responded with a shrug, not wanting to admit that that last one hadn't been entirely intentional. The flirtatious compliment had been sincere for a change though. Rosmerta might not look as young as thirty anymore, but she still looked damned good, which was more than could be said for almost every other woman he'd said that to before.

"You're succeeding." Rosmerta returned with a flirtatious smile and turned to leave. "Wave me over if you need a refill."

"Should we leave you alone so that you can focus you attention on Rosmerta?" Bryanna asked, amused.

"I was just being friendly." Harry defended, semi-truthfully. He knew that barmaids would often flirt as a matter of course because it kept people coming back, but he did find her undeniably attractive. It didn't help that the two girls on either side of him had gotten him seriously randy and predisposed towards flirting.

"Suuure you were." Tiana drawled out, clearly not believing him.

XXXXX

Sirius had intended to make an attempt to infiltrate Hogwarts on Halloween, but there was one thing that he wanted to do first just in case he failed and ended up being dementor chow.

He had to see Harry, had to see if his godson was alright. He hadn't been able to find him before, but he had to see him. The rage he felt for the cowardly rat hadn't abated in the slightest, but his previous failure had instilled enough caution in him to acknowledge the admittedly high chance that he was going to die in the attempt to extract revenge for James and Lily's murder.

In hindsight, rushing off half-cocked after Wormtail had betrayed them to Voldemort had been a bad idea, but he hadn't been in a particularly rational mood at the time. He still wasn't truth be told, though at this point it was because of twelve years of dementor exposure rather than homicidal rage.

But getting back to the point, he had to see Harry first. He knew that there was always a Hogsmeade weekend before Halloween, which was by far the safest avenue for him to get a glimpse of his godson.

He stayed in his animagus form and stuck to the woods around the village, keeping his doggy nose up in the air, hoping to get a whiff of his godson's scent. It would undoubtedly be different after twelve years, but he hoped that he could still recognize it.

Hours later, he had all but lost hope and started thinking that maybe Harry hadn't been able to leave the castle for some reason. When the barely familiar scent wafted into his nose, Padfoot accidentally planted his face into the dirt in his eagerness to get a look.

Stalking stealthily through the outskirts of the forest, Sirius caught sight of his quarry as they moved towards the Shrieking Shack and did an almost cartoonish rendition of a canine jaw drop.

Harry was….tall. Too tall for his age. Tall enough that Sirius seriously wondered for a moment whether he'd spent more than just twelve years in Azkaban. He looked so much like James that it hurt to look at him, though he kept his hair at a length more reminiscent of Sirius himself, nor did he wear glasses. Sirius couldn't see color in his animagus form, but he was sure that the boy's eyes were still Lily's beautiful emerald green.

The fact that his godson had not one but two witches that looked to be seventh years keeping him company nearly overrode his self control and had him running towards the boy to lick his face in a display of pure pride.

Once the initial reaction passed though, Sirius felt a stab of pain in his chest, remembering better times with his best friend. For all that James had been chasing Lily rather obsessively since third year, he hadn't shied away from the occasional date with other witches. He and Sirius would often bring whichever girl they were goofing around with at the time to the Three Broomsticks for a pint of butterbeer and an amusing bit of flirting with the ever delightful proprietor. Their dates would invariably get jealous of the attention they were giving to the older woman, giving the two of them an opportunity to make it up to them later, sometimes in very pleasurable ways. Quite a few broom closets and abandoned classrooms held fond memories for him.

Lost in his grief and memories, Padfoot unintentionally whined loudly.

XXXXX

It turned out that butterbeer was not as disgusting as its name implied. It was in fact rather delicious and had some kind of magic in it that spread warmth over the whole body when drunk.

To Harry's minor annoyance, his runes made quick work of that due to it being a foreign magic. He hadn't considered that when carving them. It wouldn't have stopped him as it really was a minor thing, but the oversight displeased him. It was good to have confirmation that it worked at least.

They had stayed in the Three Broomsticks for a while, having a conversation intersped with flirting and teasing touches. Not as intense as it had been at first since they hadn't wanted to get another warning from Rosmerta, but still enough that Harry felt the magic in his runes prickling in an almost annoyed fashion at the time it was taking to get to the main event.

He had no idea what kind of plan Bryanna and Tiana had cooked up, but he could hardly wait to get to the part where they tried to take advantage of him.

After leaving the tavern, the girls had suggested taking a look at the Shrieking Shack, which was supposed to be the most haunted place in Britain, though nobody seemed able to say why exactly that was.

That was about the time when they all heard a loud, canine whine and turned to look at the source.

A very big black dog was staring at them from between the trees, it's eyes lightly shining.

The three students froze in surprise. The dog froze in surprise.

"Is that….a grim?" Tiana asked slowly, as if afraid that the sound would provoke it to attack.

Harry knew exactly what that dog was and it wasn't a grim. It looked a lot more ragged than he remembered, but it was undoubtedly Sirius' animagus form, Padfoot.

"I don't think so." Bryanna replied uncertainly, squeezing Harry's arm as if to reassure herself that she wasn't alone. "Grims are supposed to be spectral and this one looks solid."

Harry knew that he had to do something and fast. There was an opportunity here, but he could already see Sirius getting ready to bolt. He still had a few questions about the night that his parents had died and Sirius was possibly the only person who could give him the answers he sought.

"It's Padfoot." He said, making things up as he went. "He's my dog, but I have no idea what he's doing all the way up here."

"Your dog?" Bryanna and Tiana exclaimed in surprise, echoed by another whine from an equally surprised Padfoot.

Sirius had no idea how to react. He'd known that it would have been too much to hope for that Harry would remember him, but it seemed that his godson did indeed remember. He couldn't have known the name of his animagus form otherwise.

"He wouldn't hurt anyone, would you, Padfoot?" Harry asked pointedly, staring at the dog animagus. If Sirius had a wand and the intent to use it, then Harry didn't fool himself into thinking that he could take him on in a straight fight, but he'd shown zero aggression so far.

He'd long since deduced that the dementors hovering around the school were supposedly for his protection in case Black went after him, which was in his opinion a completely asinine security measure. If the Ministry was right, then this was the best chance that Black was ever going to get to kill him.

Padfoot let his tongue hang out of his mouth and panted happily, trotting over to the three of them and giving Harry's hand a lick.

"See? He's harmless." Harry said, wiping his drool stained hand on his robes.

"I guess." Tiana said dubiously, still staring at the hulking canine warily.

Now what? Asking them to give me a moment alone with a dog would be suspicious and I can hardly talk to Sirius with them around.

It was a strange situation that compelled a teenager to ditch two pretty girls that seemed intent on having their way with him, but that was what Harry found himself doing. Lust simply had to take a backseat this time.

"Excuse me for a few minutes girls, I need to get Padfoot back home." He said to Bryanna and Tiana, making up his mind on a course of action.

"Okay." They agreed, still a bit uncertain about the whole situation but much more composed than they had been before.

"Teeny." Harry said softly.

The small house elf popped in, looking happy at being called.

"You's called for Teeny, master Harry Potter sir?" She asked earnestly, already looking around for things to do.

"I did." He confirmed. "Could you please transport me and Padfoot here back to the manor?"

"Teeny can be doing it!" She proclaimed, not even questioning why he suddenly had a dog.

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Harry assured the girls and vanished with the quiet pop of a house elf apparition.

Bryanna and Tiana exchanged glances

"Didn't he tell you that he lives with muggles?" Tiana asked.

"Wondering about the house elf?"

"Yup."

XXXXX

The three of them appeared in the sitting room of Potter Manor with the same quiet pop that they had disappeared with.

"Is you and the doggy wanting something to eat, master Harry?" Teeny asked a second later, knowing what Harry's appetite was like.

"Not right now, thank you." Harry refused politely, once more wishing that he could have gotten the little house elf to stop calling him 'master'. Unfortunately, her lower lip started wobbling tremulously whenever he tried to bring the subject up and he ended up backing down. She was an expert in emotional blackmail.

Once Teeny had made herself scarce, Sirius transformed back into human form, making Harry tense warily even though he'd been expecting it.

"Harry." The bedraggled man in Azkaban prison robes said, spreading his arms and taking a step forward as if to give him a hug.

"Hold it right there." Harry said firmly, taking a step back and raising his arms defensively. "I'm fairly sure that you didn't betray my parents and that you don't mean me any harm, but that doesn't mean I trust you."

"It was Pettigrew!" Sirius said loudly, looking a little wild eyed now. "He was the traitor!"

"What about the twelve muggles that you supposedly killed?" Harry pressed.

"Also him. He shouted something about me betraying James and Lily when I cornered him and then fired off a blasting curse."

"Alright, I believe you." Harry nodded after a moment's consideration, having already known that the situation was fishy and seeing no particular reason for Sirius to be lying to him. "But I'm still not hugging you, you stink."

Sirius stared at him in shock for a second and then burst into near hysterical laughter.

Harry frowned slightly in consternation. It hadn't been that funny.

"I bet you'd prefer a hug from those two girls of yours, eh Harry?" Sirius ribbed once his chuckles had subsided.

"Obviously." Harry said drolly. "Speaking of which, we'll need to postpone the rest of this meeting for another time. I need to get back before anyone gets suspicious. Stay here and keep out of sight until we figure out a way to get your name cleared, I'm sure that Teeny will be glad to have someone to take care of."

"Wormtail!" Sirius suddenly shouted. "He's in the castle, I have to get him!"

"Wormtail?" Harry questioned, the name(nickname?) being unfamiliar to him.

"Pettigrew!" Sirius spat impatiently. "He's a rat animagus, been hiding out as the Weasley's pet rat ever since he framed me."

"Scabbers?" Harry wondered, having heard quite a few complaints about Ron's pet rat from Ginny as well as occasionally seeing it at meals. That ugly thing was an animagus? He'd never seen Pettigrew transform in his memories and hadn't honestly thought that such a weak looking wizard was capable of it.

"Whatever he calls himself!" The escaped convict growled, throwing his hands up into the air angrily. "I have to get back there and kill him for what he did."

"I'll catch him." Harry stated. It shouldn't be too hard since the rat wouldn't expect him. Getting him away from Weasley without anyone noticing would be the bigger issue. Moreover, a living Peter Pettigrew would be exactly the kind of evidence they'd need to prove that Sirius was innocent.

"NO!" Sirius screamed, suddenly lunging to grab Harry by his robes. "He's mine!"

Alarmed and angered by the sudden attack, Harry pried the man's hands off and roughly shoved him to the floor. Not a feat of strength that a normal thirteen year old would be capable off, but he was physically older than his age, had a minor strength boost from his runes and Sirius was so far from being in good shape that it wasn't even funny.

"Don't be an idiot!" Harry spat angrily. "Everyone is on the lookout for you. You'll never succeed without alerting him and then he can just make a run for it. We'd never find him again if he escapes."

"I'm sorry, James." Sirius said contritely from the floor, sounding close to tears. "You're right, we'll do it your way."

Harry ignored the fact that he'd just been called by his father's name. The dementors had obviously not done Sirius' state of mind any favors.

"Stay in the manor and keep out of sight, nobody is going to look for you here. I'll get Pettigrew and then we can figure out how to solve this mess." He instructed, taking a deep breath to dispel the last of his short burst of anger. "I really have to get back, but Charlus and Dorea have portraits up on the first floor if you want to talk to them."

Too bad that wards can't be used to keep someone inside them, he's far too unstable for my liking. Harry thought, holding back a grimace.

That was a strange quirk of wards. They could do a lot of things, including block apparition and portkeys, but keeping someone from just walking past them was something that was impossible to do. It could be set up to trigger effects for anyone doing so, even lethal ones, but that only worked from the outside coming in. Azkaban would have been truly inescapable if it were otherwise. Line style exclusion spells such as the Age Line were the only exception, but they weren't really wards and couldn't be anchored to anything, which meant that they needed to be frequently reinforced.

And on that note, he was going to need to tell Teeny to keep the man from leaving. He wasn't likely to get more than one opportunity to make a grab for Pettigrew and Sirius did not strike him as the subtle type.

Sirius blanched at the thought even as he got to his feet. Talk to James' parents? The people who had shown him nothing but kindness and whose son and daughter-in-law he'd killed with his stupidity? A horde of dementors sounded less scary, even if they were just portraits.

XXXXX

"Got your dog sorted?" Bryanna asked once Teeny had popped Harry back to Hogsmeade.

"Yeah." Harry nodded. "Crazy mutt was all set to make another trip up here and took some convincing to get him to stay put."

"I don't think we have time to visit the Shrieking Shack anymore." Tiana said with a small frown. "It's nearly time to go back to Hogwarts."

"Alright, lets go then." He said, his mind already chewing over the problem of Pettigrew.

"Oh Haaary~." Bryanna sing-songed. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

Harry turned to stare at her, seeing both girls holding their hands out for him to take.

Oh, right. That was still happening. Maybe the Pettigrew problem could wait for another day.

Chapter Text

Living back in Potter Manor after Azkaban had been an emotional experience for Sirius.

He'd nearly cried when Teeny had told him that she'd drawn him a bath and laid out a clean set of robes for him. He had cried when he took his first bite of food in twelve years that didn't taste like it had been scraped off a troll's arse or fished out of the garbage. It had taken him a good ten minutes to convince Teeny that there was nothing wrong with her cooking after that. The Potter house elf had always been an insecure little thing.

It was then that he had decided that there had been enough blubbering. Sirius Black was not some emotionally fragile preteen girl that kept bursting into tears at the slightest provocation. He was a manly man and would act like it.

That resolve had lasted exactly one hour, which was the time it took him to build up the nerve to go talk to Charlus and Dorea's portraits. He'd started bawling again as soon as they told him that they didn't blame him for James and Lily's deaths.

Sirius still felt responsible, but didn't argue. He'd never had it in him to argue with Charlus and Dorea.

XXXXX

Remus spent the majority of the Halloween feast staring at the son of his friends, still wallowing indecisively over how or even if to approach him.

Dumbledore had told him that the boy seemed to somehow know about him already. It would be so much simpler if Harry deigned to make the first move, but he couldn't put that all on Harry without being a hypocrite.

James and Sirius had always been the ones who made things happen in the Marauders. Charismatic James Potter and bold Sirius Black, getting in and out of trouble as easy as breathing. Remus had participated in their antics eagerly, happy to have friends at all with his condition, but he hadn't been a driving force like James or Sirius. Peter had been even more of a follower than him and couldn't even boast the same kind of intelligence and skill that would have made him their equal the same as it did for Remus.

Harry wasn't really much like James in temperament. Not nearly as social or boisterous and too studious by half.

But sometimes he reminded him so much of James that it was hard to keep from calling him the wrong name. Times like now, when Remus had heard that he'd gone to Hogsmeade with one seventh year witch and left it with two. Remus had once been terribly envious of his two friends' easy way with the opposite gender, something that he'd always had to avoid due to his lycanthropy even when the opportunity presented itself. Nowadays it was just another regret among many.

And speaking of regrets.....

One of the larger ones was sitting at the same table as him, occasionally shooting a glower at Harry.

Snape had been a favored target for James and Sirius, no doubt a result of James' near obssesive infatuation with Lily and Sirius being the supportive best friend by backing him up. Severus' friendship with her had riled them like nothing else. Remus and Peter hadn't participated in picking on the dour Slytherin often, but they hadn't protested either.

It had felt too good to have someone that he, a werewolf, could feel pity for to do that and Peter had likely had a similar reason, minus the lycanthropy. A shameful realization about himself that had come far too late to be helpful. It was one of the main reasons that he didn't try to retaliate or defend himself from Snape's veiled barbs these days. He deserved them.

Not that Severus had been a helpless victim. He'd given almost as good as he'd gotten in many cases, which was particularly impressive since he had always been outnumbered. In truth, Remus had always strongly suspected that Severus was a more powerful wizard than any single one of the Marauders.

However much he enjoyed teaching, he found himself wishing that he hadn't accepted Dumbledore's offer. There were too many regrets and memories in this place, staring out at him either from the black eyes of a man too bitter, proud and resentful to accept his apologies or from the bright green of a teenager who looked at him with indifferent curiousity at best.

He couldn't wait for the feast to be over. The cheerful armosphere did not suit his mood.

XXXXX

A little further down the table, Snape glowered so darkly that not even Dumbledore attempted to bother him with his infuriatingly inane chatter.

Halloween always put him in a foul mood. Lily had died on this day and the innumerable twits infesting the world celebrating it grated on him. The fact that Potter had deigned to grace the Great Hall with his presence on this day for the first time since coming to Hogwarts made it worse.

Rumor had already reached him of the brat's neophyte forays into the philandering ways of his father and it curdled his opinion of the boy more than anything else could have, along with his mood.

He couldn't wait for the feast to be over. The last of the firewhiskey that Minerva had gotten him the previous Christmas sounded particularly appealing right now.

XXXXX

Oblivious to the regard of the two professors, Harry continued eating as he absently reached into the pocket of his robes to give the note it held a squeeze. The message it held made his blood boil even as it sent a nervous flutter to his stomach.

Come to the seventh floor after the feast, the opposite side of the corridor from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. We'll be waiting.

Bryanna had slipped him the note before she'd left, with Tiana following shortly afterwards. He felt almost as nervous as the first time with Zoe. How did threesomes even work?

But he also couldn't wait for the feast to be over. It would be fun learning how they worked.

XXXXX

One the feast was over Harry slipped away from prying eyes and made his way up to the seventh floor. It was less expansive than most of the castle, being as high up as it was, so there shouldn't be any trouble finding the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

Granted, he had no idea what it looked like, but he figured that someone that wizards titled 'the Barmy' would be doing something pretty fucking crazy.

Trying to teach trolls how to do ballet defnitely fit the bill. Why would anyone want to do that anyway?

But the ambitions of insane wizards were really of no importance to Harry right now. What was important was the door on the opposite side of the corridor. Harry cautiously opened the door and froze as soon as he stepped inside.

He hadn't been sure what to expect of this room, but what he got was not it. It was rather large, with several dozen floating candles giving it a warm orange glow. It was somewhat bare of furniture except for the exccessively large bed. Harry absently noticed the deep crimson bedding, but most of his attention was on the two women currently occupying the bed.

Bryanna and Tiana were laying on their sides, facing each other with their legs entangled, echanging languid kisses.

Harry had assumed that the Wizarding World would be as intolerant of homosexuality as it was about a lot of other things, but he was very glad to be wrong for a change. When thinking of it later on, he would eventually conclude that the contempt that magicals had for monotheistic religion was likely the main reason for this surprising tolerance, but he was entirely too distracted to be thinking about that right now.

The girls noticed him at that point and separated from each other.

"Looks like it's time for the main event." Bryanna said huskily, giving Harry a smouldering look.

"Finally." Tiana muttered under her breath.

The two of them had decided to get each other ready just in case Harry was one of those guys that liked to just get to the main event and fall asleep right after, like their first times had been. If he did end up being like that, then they'd at least be plenty wet enough for it to only be disappointing instead of unpleasant.

The only problem had been restraining themselves to just kissing and some light petting and not getting started without him. That would have run counter to the whole point. They weren't really lesbians or even bisexual, but there was nothing wrong with getting a bit of relief with a friend. Especially when the pickings among the male population were so slim.

Harry watched in entranced fascination as they got off the bed and walked towards him. Both of them were wearing sheer nighties that simply had to be enchanted. They looked as though they might have originally come out of a muggle lingerie store, but no regular fabric could shimmer so enticingly as it moved. It looked as though they were made of impossibly fine metal, with Bryanna's being bronze and Tiana's silver. They had nothing but bright blue and green panties under those, an amusing nod to the color of their Hogwarts houses.

He'd just taken in that interesting little detail when they reached him, one after the other giving him a deep kiss without preamble.

"You're overdressed, Harry." Bryanna whispered into his ear as two sets of hands started undoing his robes. "Lets fix that, shall we?"

Busy as he was kissing Tiana and running his hands over her thinly covered body, Harry couldn't respond, but he definitely wasn't going to object.

There was one thing that absolutely had to be done before things went any further though.

"One moment." He said breathlessly after separating his lips from those of the Slytherin girl.

Then he drew his wand and quickly cast two contraception charms.

"Protection, Harry?" Tiana smirked. "That's very responsible of you, but we're already on the potion."

"Better safe than sorry." He shrugged and eagerly leaned back to kiss her before she could respond.

They left a trail of discarded clothing on the floor as they stumbled towards the bed, by which time Harry had nothing but his underwear left on him.

Harry grabbed Tiana's legs when they reached the edge of the bed and lifted her onto it, covering her body with his own immediately after.

Guess I get to be first. She thought humorlessly when she felt him hooking his thumbs into her panties and pull them off.

Instead of having a male member of underwhelming size shoved into her, he had her gasping in surprise as he dived for her crotch mouth first, with every indication that he'd been dying to do just that.

Harry had in fact been dying to do just that, having developed something of an oral fixation with Zoe. Maybe it had been his desire to reach the coveted ten out of ten on the cunnilingus scale, or maybe it was the ego boost that hearing a woman panting in pleasure while he ate her out gave him. Either way, he wasn't going to miss out on a chance to do it.

Seeing her friend making sounds of pleasure that didn't sound faked, Bryanna made a facial expression somewhere between a smirk and a pout. Smirking, because it looked like Tiana's plan to fake their orgasms wouldn't be needed and pouting because she wasn't getting any attention.

Then her expression changed all the way into a smirk as she got an idea. First, she pulled off her own nightie and panties, then she tugged down Harry's underwear to get him completely naked.

With a critical look that she would've kept off her face if he could see it, Bryanna examined Harry's package and nodded to herself. It wasn't really anything to write home about, but it was impressive for a thirteen year old. At the very least it would do more than tickle when he put it in.

Running her hands gently over the exposed genitals, she leaned over to him and spoke in her most throaty voice.

"I'll be expecting the same treatment, so don't exhaust yourself too quickly."

Harry groaned his agreement into Tiana's crotch, incidentally making the Slytherin groan as well. His jaw was not going to thank him for it, but he fully intended to do just that.

XXXXX

One hour later.

Bryanna grunted as Harry sheathed himself into her from behind, the entrance being very easy due to her previous orgasm leaving her well lubricated.

Tiana was sprawled on her back next to them, the trickle of semen leaking from her attesting to Harry's own recent ograsm.

An orgasm that he seemed to have already recovered from.

Harry looked down at the witch he was thrusting into, feeling the familiar thrill of power that this position gave him. It was even more pronounced than it had been with Zoe. Unlike his muggle friend, Bryanna had a tangible power within her that he could feel when he was this close. A power that felt submissive to him when he took her like this.

Lost in the moment, he decided to see if he couldn't push things a bit further.

Bryanna leaned her head back eagerly when she felt a hand grabbing her hair. The combination of being taken from behind and having her hair grabbed felt good.

She didn't think much of it when he pulled her head a bit to the side and thrust into her hard enough to nudge her forward.

She did notice however when he started pushing her head towards Tiana's soiled crotch.

"Lick her." Harry ordered with a grunt as he pushed himself all the way into her and stopped moving. "We wouldn't want her falling asleep now, would we?"

Bryanna wanted to protest, but something about the situation made her inner walls clench with anticipation around his shaft. She wanted him to start moving again and damn if his commanding behavior wasn't hot.

So she gave in and set to work on getting her friend off again, ignoring both the taste of Harry's seed and the protesting mewl that Tiana made to the stimulation.

Seeing a witch four years his senior give in to his desire sent Harry hurtling over the edge of his second orgasm entirely too fast, but he didn't fight it and released into her with a drawn out groan.

Drawing in big gulps of air, he watched her arse sticking into the air and a drop of sperm trickle from her opening. He could already feel his arousal returning at the sight. He was going to be hard again in a minute.

He had something else that he wanted to do though.

Not bothering with a wand since neither of the two girls could see him, Harry focused on what he wanted and sent a cleaning charm at Bryanna's crotch.

The Ravenclaw girl jumped slightly as the spell removed not only his own leavings, but also the wetness generated by her arousal.

"Harry!" She gasped, sounding a mixture of scandalized and aroused. "Did you just cast a spell at my fanny?!"

"Get back to licking." He told her with a grin and planted his face in the aforementioned fanny. After all, he'd made her dry again and that just wouldn't do.

Bryanna groaned at having his tongue applied to her again. The spell had been like a jolt of cold power right to her privates, so his hot tongue was feeling particularly good right now. The position was also new and exciting to her. She'd never gotten licked from behind before.

And speaking of licking, she went back to flicking her tongue over the tired Slytherin's clitoris.

Harry had a point. Tiana had no business falling asleep already. Shagging the overly virile third year had been her idea and by Merlin she was going to help tire him out.

XXXXX

Two hours later.

Tiana opened her eyes blearily as she heard Harry groan and spurt out what couldn't be more than a few drops of sperm into her abused snatch.

She was currently lying on her stomach and mostly just happy to let the boy do whatever he wanted until he tired himself out.

Bryanna was already passed out next to her, having thrown her under the metaphorical bus earlier and told Harry to leave her alone and use the Slytherin to satisfy himself. The bitch.

Neither one of them had expected Harry to have that much damned stamina. Oh sure, he technically cheated by giving himself breaks and resorting to the use of his tongue , but at the end of the day, he was still the one that had exhausted them instead of the other way around. The after sex business proposition they'd planned was just going to have to wait until morning.

She felt the bed dip as a new weight shimmied between her and Bryanna. She hadn't even noticed him getting off the bed in the first place.

To her great relief, he merely pulled both of them close and settled down to sleep. If he'd tried going anywhere near her groin again, she might have just slapped him. If she could be bothered to lift her arms that was.

Instead she just settled into his side and took a deep breath, taking in the smell of food.

Wait...food?

He'd gotten himself a snack before getting back to bed?

The absurdity of his appetite made Tiana giggle sleepily as she fell back into slumber.

Harry raised an eyebrow a the weird giggle/snore hybrid that the Slytherin girl had just made, wondering what the hell she was dreaming about.

Eh, no matter. He was way too exhausted to really care. He'd almost been too exhausted to eat, but the gurgling emptiness of his stomach would never have let him sleep.

XXXXX

The morning after was greeted with parched throats, full bladders, terrible morning breath and sore nethers.

Fortunately, there was a bathrrom attached to the room, the house elves were always happy to provide assistance with anything food related and minor healing spells could soothe the soreness.

Once all of that had been taken care of, they went back to snuggling on the bed.

"Where did you girls find this amazing room?" Harry asked with a sigh, sinking into the deliciously soft pillows.

"The elves call it the Come And Go room, or the Room of Requirement. Apparently you just have to pace across the hallway three times and think about what you want."

"And the castle just reads your mind and makes the room?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Looks like it." Bryanna shrugged.

"Huh, that's interesting."

Very interesting. In fact, Harry was quite sure that he'd just found a new favorite room in the castle.

"So....Harry, what did you think of what we were wearing?" Tiana asked casually, dragging a finger along his chest.

"Those sexy nighties?" He asked with a grin. "I loved them. Where did you find those anyway? It doesn't look like something that you could buy in Diagon Alley and I could feel the magic in them."

"We made them." Bryanna said proudly. "Well, us and two other friends."

"That's quite a talent you've got there." He complimented.

"Thank you." Tiana accepted graciously. "We've been thinking of opening a clothing store that caters to more...modern tastes than Madam Malkin's, but it's hard to start up a business in the Wizarding World."

Harry smiled wryly, the realization dawning on him.

"So you hatched a plan to seduce an orphaned heir to a Noble House and get him to foot the bill." He said dryly.

Bryanna and Tiana exchanged glances and shrugged, giving up the pretense of casual conversation. This had been supposed to happen while he was still mellow from the sex and sleepy. They hadn't counted on him being able to wear them out, but they had to deal with the situation as it was.

"Yes." The Ravenclaw girl said with as much dignity as could be mustered in the situation. "So, will you do it? You said that you liked our work and we have plenty of other ideas for things, not just night clothes and underwear."

"Explain the whole situation to me and I'll think about it." He said, not keen to agree to anything just yet.

"It's fairly simple really." Bryanna began with a shrug. "All four of us are of the opinion that the Wizarding World could do with a fashion update and want to open a clothing store. The problem is that getting the start up capital is damn near impossible and the pureblood pricks running the Ministry start bleating protests every time someone tries to do something different."

Tiana took up the narrative from there. "You might have noticed that it looks like we just took some muggle clothing and enchanted it, which is fairly close to the mark. We haven't figured much of the sewing spells that are used in creating clothes because those tend to be professional secrets, but buying stuff made by muggles, enchanting it and reselling is simple enough if you've got the skill."

"The problem is that some pureblood could easily decide that he didn't like what we were doing, throw some money around and get it classified under 'Misuse of Muggle Artefacts' to make the whole thing illegal. So we were hoping that you would give us the start up gold and let us use the Potter name." Bryanna finished.

"How would using my name help?" Harry asked curiously.

"Lords of Noble Houses get all kinds of exemptions to the law, including the one about misusing muggle artefacts. If they made it illegal for you, then they'd be making it illegal for themselves too." She answered and continued with a mutter. "As if a bra was an artefact."

The two girls went quiet and Harry mulled over their words. He'd never much cared for the ungainly robes that wizards liked so much and was definitely in favor of having alternatives, but he had noticed how tradition obsessed the culture was. They weren't likely to turn a profit for years. In fact, the entire venture could quite easily just end up being a huge money sink.

That being said, it could also turn out to be spectacularly successful. The muggleborns would almost definitely like it, just as certainly as the purebloods would hate it. The halfbloods were a toss up. An important toss up as they made up anywhere between 60 and 80% of the population.

"How much would you need?" He asked after a few minutes.

"A few thousand galleons at least." Bryanna said with wince, knowing that it wasn't a small amount of money, but also knowing better than to sugarcoat it. They'd need that money to buy the space, build up stock and advertise, not to mention living expenses since they'd essentially be unemployed during that time. If he refused them, then their only other avenue would be to take a loan from Gringotts and only idiots borrowed money from the goblins. Their interest rates were ruinous.

Harry wasn't too bothered by the number. The basilisk carcass had sold for truly ridiculous sums, enough that he had no worries about running out of funds by the time he reached adulthood even if he became quite an extravagant spender. It wasn't as much as he had in his main vault, but it would probably be comparable to the fortune of a very minor Noble family.

"I'll give you ten thousand." He said, lips quirking at how their eyes widened. "BUT, I want majority owndership. 60%."

"Then you'd be the one owning it, not us." Tiana grumbled. She wanted to be her own boss, not an employee in someone else's business.

"I'm the one taking the risk here, not you." Harry pointed out. "If this idea of yours sinks, I'll be the one taking the hits."

"I don't suppose we could convince you to lower that percentage down to 49?" Bryanna asked coyly, hand reaching to fondle him between the legs.

"I have a better idea." He said with a grin.

"Really?" Tiana asked, clearly sceptical.

"I give you the money and keep the 60%, you wait for me to claim lordship before opening your store and focus on building up stock in the meantime, I keep your business afloat for as long as it takes to start turning a profit. Once it does start turning a profit you start paying back my investment, for which I won't charge any interest by the way. When however much debt you've accumulated to me is paid off, I turn over 20% to each of you."

The girls exchanged contemplative looks. It was, all told, a fairly good deal. They would have needed to wait for him to claim lordship in any case to protect them from any possible legal fiction concoted by the uptight purebloods. The part about not charging interest for the investment and turning ownership over to them once it was repaid was particularly generous and not something they could expect to get from anywhere else.

"There are four of us though." Bryanna reminded him, taking note of the fact that she and Tiana would have majority ownership with this arrangement. Not an entirely displeasing idea, truth be told.

"Well I'm not seeing the other two here, so I'm not inclined to give them larger shares." He returned. "Speaking of which....how would you two feel about keeping me company for the rest of the year?"

The girls exchanged another glance at that, knowing exactly what kind of company he wanted. They hadn't really planned for any future trysts, but they didn't want anything jeopardizing their future either and were far too cynical to assume that Harry was a decent enough bloke to not take it personally if they refused, Boy-Who-Lived or not.

"I'm sure that something could be arranged."

Besides, even if Harry wasn't the most amazing lover ever, he was enthusiastic, had stamina and wasn't shy about putting his tongue to work to get a girl off. That mostly made up for his somewhat limited experience. Who knows, he might even learn a thing or two about properly using that cock of his eventually.

XXXXX

Molly read over the letter that her daughter had sent her again and frowned, still unsure how to reply to it.

Ginny had been so excited to have made friends with the Boy-Who-Lived last year and now this had happened.

Molly was well aware of how the heirs of Noble Houses tended to act during the later years of their Hogwarts education. She'd always been fiercely disapproving, but had kept it mostly to herself since it didn't concern her. Aside from that one fool incident with a love potion that Arthur had later forgiven her for, she'd held herself to a higher standard than both the witches throwing themselves at noble heirs and those selfsame heirs taking advantage of their status to bed them.

Now Ginny was asking for advice on how to regain her friendship with one of those types and if she was reading between the lines correctly, also how to catch his interest.

Ron had been rather uncomplimentary of him at the start of his first year, calling him rude and arrogant in his letters, but that had tapered off after that poor muggleborn girl had been killed by the troll. Her youngest son had never been quite the same after that, feeling partially responsible for her death as he did.

Harry had seemed like a nice enough boy when they'd met him at the train station at the end of the previous school year, if a bit terse and oddly tall for his age, so she figured that they'd merely had a rocky first meeting. She'd wanted to invite him to spend part of the summer at the Burrow, but had held off when he seemed to be in such a hurry.

Molly could admit to herself that she was also slightly disappointed to learn that Harry Potter would act like any other entitled lordling. She'd expected better from the boy who had defeated Voldemort. Dumbledore had told her before the start of Ginny's first year that Harry needed a friend, so she'd thought that he'd be a bit on the shy side. Apparently, that had not been exactly the case.

What was she supposed to tell Ginny? That Harry was likely to keep bedding a stream of witches that were no doubt hoping to become the next Lady Potter? That he was probably going to start receiving marriage offers at the first sign of acceptance? That it was entirely possible that quite a few of those witches would settle for being his mistresses?

That was another not spoken of practice among the Noble Houses that had always grated on Molly's more conservative sensibilities. Marriages in pureblood society were often based on social status or business deals rather than any kind of affection, which naturally led to both the Lord and Lady of a House having one or more lovers on the side. They'd produce the agreed upon number of children, attend social functions together and pretend to be a functional family, but ignore each other the rest of the time in favor of their respective dalliances.

She didn't want that kind of future for her daughter. She would always be grateful to Harry for recognizing the cursed diary for what it was, but she didn't find her daughter's crush on the Boy-Who-Lived cute anymore. She also handily ignored the fact that she had subtly encouraged said crush.

A dark corner of her mind whispered about the Potter wealth and how nice it would be to have access to it through Ginny, but she ignored that. There were more important things in the world than money, her daughter's happiness being one of those things.

XXXXX

Prongslet,

We didn't really get a chance to talk, so I decided to write you a letter. Not really sure what to say to be perfectly honest, the last time I saw you, you were turning James' hair green because he tried to make you eat broccoli and now you're practically grown up.

I should have been there for you. I should have taken care of you instead of going after Wormtail that night. Charlus and Dorea told me a bit about your life and the people you live with now. You could come live with me once this thing with Wormtail and my fugitive status is settled.

I say 'come live with me', but what I really mean is that I could take guardianship of you. The Black family home isn't any more cheery than Azkaban, so I wouldn't subject you to living there.

That was an interesting offer, but Harry wasn't sure if he would be taking the man up on it. Yes, Robert and Katherine were annoying, but they were familiar. He'd learned how to handle them a long time ago and his recent dabbling into compulsion charms made it almost trivial to keep them out of his hair. Not to mention that switching guardianship would likely involve quite a bit of legal wrangling that he was keen to avoid.

On the other end of the spectrum was his godfather. A wizard would certainly make for a more convenient guardian in many ways, but only as long as he didn't actually try to act like a parent. Harry had no more use for a parent, especially one that fancied himself as being responsible. Responsible guardians would not let their charges perform rituals of blood sacrifice or give them unlimited access to the more questionable reading material of the Black Library.

Harry had no real interest in becoming a Dark Wizard in the traditional sense, but he very much wanted to get at those books. The Potter family library was nice, but suffered a crippling dearth of anything that smacked of dark magic. The Black family was both several centuries older and far less hampered by morals.

Charlus and Dorea had obviously not said a word about his rituals, which was good. He hadn't had time to order them to keep quiet about those and it was nice to know that they knew better than to blurt out that kind of dangerous secret even if they thought it was for his own good.

On the whole, he was leaning towards rejecting Sirius' offer. He would have to think about it some more, but so far it looked like a lot of hassle for little gain. Sirius didn't have to be his legal guardian to open the Black Library after all.

I know that we don't really know each other and a letter isn't a very good way to change that, but needs must, so I'll just go and properly introduce myself.

I am Sirius Orion Black, also known as the white sheep of the Inbred and Most Pompous House of Black, and your dogfather....

After that mocking introduction, the letter delved into Sirius' first meeting and instant friendship with James Potter on the Hogwarts Express, as well as their meeting with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew and some of their adventures.

The words were full of nostalgia and more than a small amount of hatred whenever Pettigew, and surprisingly Snape, came up. At least it explained where Snape's animosity for him was coming from, petty though it was.

....I'd like to hear about your own Hogwarts adventure, the friends you've made, the girls you've charmed.

Yours truly,

Padfoot.

P.S. Don't underestimate Pettigrew. He might not look like much, but he's as slippery as his animagus form and can be dangerous when cornered. I know that your plan makes sense, but I'm still not comfortable with you going after him alone. Remus would help you if you asked him. Hells, even Dumbledore would probably help you.

Harry snorted. Like hell was he going to ask either a virtual stranger or a manipulative old man for help. He didn't know Lupin well enough to predict his reaction and giving Dumbledore any more information to work with was the absolute last thing he was going to do.

Sirius had spoken about Lupin at length, even talking about his werewolf status as though Harry already knew about it. That was somewhat careless of the man, but Harry did have to admit that the clues had been there.

He was still not going to approach the man, despite Sirius' waxing eloquent about what a loyal friend he was. Lupin meant nothing to him and wasn't someone he trusted, so he would be doing this by himself.

The rat would have no blatantly obvious reason to suspect himself hunted now that Sirius was safely in Potter Manor, which would make taking him relatively easy.

He couldn't take him too soon though, as he would then run into the problem of getting out of Hogwarts with the rat. House elves were exempt from the Hogwarts wards and could apparate through them freely, but they couldn't take passengers through them.

The Christmas holidays would provide the perfect exit, he just needed to grab Pettigrew a short while before then.

Harry supposed that he could have told the teachers about this, but he simply didn't trust them not to bungle it all up. He especially didn't trust Dumbledore. The old wizard should have had more than just an inkling of Sirius' innocence, so his inaction on the matter came either from incompetence or some darker agenda.

No, better to handle it himself and keep it quiet until it was too late for anyone to meddle. If word got out about this, he knew that the Ministry would react in the usual fashion of politicians everywhere. Namely, they would do everything in their power to save face and sweeping the whole thing under the proverbial rug was the simplest way of doing that. Innocent or guilty, Sirius Black represented a problem and an embarrassment for the Ministry.

Before he made any plans for Pettigrew however, it would behoove him to reply to the letter. If nothing else, he needed to get to know Sirius before he could decide on the matter of guardianship.

XXXXX

Somewhat contrary to Harry's thoughts about him, Dumbledore did not have any sinister agendas involving Sirius Black, nor was he even particularly incompetent in this case.

He had not been told that the Potters had switched their Secret Keeper. Hagrid, however big his heart was, did not have the brains to match. When the half-giant had taken Harry from Sirius, he had assumed that the man had given the baby up out of a desire to avoid fighting him right after losing his dark master and had reported that to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had believed him. It would be pretty hard to fight while holding a baby after all. Furthermore, Black had not known the prophecy. Had probably not known about the measures taken by Voldemort to avoid death.

Dumbledore wanted to believe that Sirius was not so far gone as to murder a baby even if he had fallen into the ways of his family and betrayed his friends to the Dark Lord, so he did. It made him feel better to think that there was still a spark of good even in otherwise evil people.

Assumptions made by people with below average intelligence were dangerous. Assumptions made by optimists were equally dangerous. The entire scenario would have made markedly less sense without one or both of these things.

That was why he had not protested too much when Barty Crouch had told him that Black had confessed and been thrown into Azkaban without a trial. There had been so much work to do then that it was far from the only procedural shortcut taken in the wake of Voldemort's death. If Sirius had in the end seen the error of his ways and confessed to his crimes, then there was no need to make a big procession of it.

Had Harry come to him for help with capturing Pettigrew, Dumbledore would have been ecstatic. Not only would he get to help an innocent man, but he would also get to show Harry that he could be relied on and trusted.

As it was, it never even crossed Harry's mind to tell Dumbledore anything and the old wizard himself spent his nights pondering other problems.

Like how to get Fudge to call off those blasted Dementors and how much truth there was to Harry's supposed 'relationship' with a seventh year girl. Possibly two seventh year girls.

He actually had a fairly good idea of what the truth really was. The broad strokes of it at least.

He could have tried to put an end to it, but frankly, it played into his own plans quite well. Harry getting suckered into a marriage to an ambitious young lady would perhaps be emotionally damaging to the young man, but it would give him the strong tie to Britain that Dumbledore had wanted to establish for some time now.

It might even allow the Potter family to produce a successor before Harry's inevitable clash with destiny, remote though the possibility was. It would be a shame for another old family to die out, so he was quietly wishing the ambitious Ms. Torres and her friends the best of luck.

"Things are progressing rather well, wouldn't you say, Fawkes?" He asked in a murmur.

The phoenix trilled sharply.

"I am trying, my friend. I am certain that I will be able to convince the Minister to recall the dementors before long." The old wizard soothed. He knew that the presence of the soul sucking horrors had not agreed with his feathery friend. Phoenixes and dementors didn't get along. At all.

XXXXX

"Were you planning to be a ward specialist or enchanter, Harry?" Professor Vector asked curiously as she examined his work.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

"Because you are quite advanced in the type of arithmancy required for that kind of work, much further than in the fields that deal with spell creation." She explained.

Ah, that would explain her assumption. Harry had needed to figure out the more rigid equations used in rituals and those had quite a bit of overlap with warding and enchanting, but had comparatively little interest in deciphering wand movements.

"I hadn't really thought about it." He answered semi-truthfully. "That type of arithmancy just comes easier to me."

"Hmm, we'll have to give spellcasting theory some more attention. It tends to pop up in the OWL tests more frequently than static magic."

Harry's lips curled brielfy in distaste. He didn't particularly care about a test score on a very stupidly named test. Knowing why this wand movement worked better than that one was of little interest to him. Wandless magic worked on a completely different principle that he was only beginning to understand for all that he had managed to get a few spells to work with it, but he knew enough to know that no arithmantic knowledge of it existed.

"I'd prefer to keep working on general theory and static magic." He said instead of voicing his distaste. "It's much more interesting and I'm sure I'll be able to pass the OWLs either way."

Vector looked uncertain for a moment but then nodded her assent. She'd offered him private tutoring exactly because Harry had been bored stiff in her normal class. He might not get a perfect O in his OWLs by neglecting spellcasting theory, but what he wanted to study featured more prominently at the NEWT level. Nobody cared about your OWL scores if you had a NEWT in the same subject, for better or for worse.

XXXXX

Ginny was dawdling and she knew it.

She'd gotten a response from her mother over a week ago, but had still not done anything about the ever widening gulf between her and Harry.

She'd been hoping that her mother would be able to tell her how to get Harry to go back to normal. A vain hope in retrospect, but one born of seeing her father usually abiding by the wishes of his wife.

Instead, the letter had essentially advised her not to get mixed up in whatever Harry was doing, with embarrassing extra emphasis on not trying to prove to Harry how grown up she was by trying to sleep with him. It didn't say that she shouldn't be friends with him, just that she should let go of any feelings she might have developed for him.

Not exactly what Ginny had wanted to hear, nor particularly useful as far as ways to get close to Harry again were concerned. She'd been angry after their last talk, but she still wasn't entirely willing to give up on him.

That was why she'd been procrastinating enough to put Ron to shame. She'd been stubbornly hoping that the situation would somehow resolve itself.

Surprisingly even to her, it seemed to have done so.

Harry wasn't spending so much time around that seventh year tramp anymore. They still seemed to be on friendly terms, but their interaction was noticeably less frequent.

If Harry was distancing himself from the older girl, then maybe he was seeing the error of his ways? Or maybe he'd simply gotten tired of humoring the gold digging slut. Either way, Ginny felt that this was the perfect time to go talk to him.

As she usually did when she wanted to talk to him privately, she woke up early and made her way to his room, knowing that he too had a propensity for waking up early. Their different schedules and his habit of disappearing at random meant that it was by far the best time to catch him alone.

Just as she was about to knock on the door, it opened.

And revealed the very gold digging slut that she'd thought that Harry had stopped associating with, still in the process of fixing her mussed up hair and crumpled robes.

The two stared at each other in surprise for several long moments before Bryanna carefully shut the door behind her.

"What were you doing in Harry's room?" Ginny demanded, anger leaking into her tone at the discovery that the truth was not as palatable as she'd thought.

Bryanna looked at the redhead incredulously, knowing that it was perfectly obvious what she'd been doing in his room.

Then she smirked, grabbed the younger girl's chin and leaned in close. "I was tutoring him, tutoring him all night long."

Not really. She'd fallen asleep after he'd worn her out, only to wake up with his face between her legs again. His strange fascination with licking pussy was going a long way towards making their arrangement pleasant rather than demeaning. Men who enjoyed doing that were just so rare. And he was getting better at it too.

The redhead slapped her hand away, obviously fuming. That just made Bryanna laugh as she walked away. The Weasley girl had been acting kind of bratty since the start, so riling her up like this was terribly amusing.

Face burning with anger and humiliation, Ginny fled back to her own room. Before now, Harry's words had only been an abstract sort of thing. Seeing a girl coming out of his room early in the morning and all but admitting to having sex with him really made it hit home.

XXXXX



Pacing alone in the Room of Requirement, Harry pondered his Patronus.

He still hadn't managed to get more than mist out of it. Without a wand, he hadn't managed anything at all.

Perhaps casting such a difficult spell wandlessly was being overly ambitious at this stage. The only spells he had managed to get working without a wand so far were very simple in purpose. Spells to give light, levitation charms, minor compulsions, that kind of thing. Any spell that had more than a solitary component was exponentially more difficult to cast without a wand. He still hadn't managed more than the most minute changes with wandless transfiguation.

There was a certain structure to spells that made it enormously difficult to form them without the aid of a wand. The magic simply fell apart if he tried to shape the spell with nothing but his will.

But it could be done. His limited success proved it. And if it could be done, then he was damn well going to do it. He would unravel whatever mystery there was behind magic, and then he could do away with the use of a wand. The magical focus made him feel more like a cripple every day. How everyone else could be so attached to their wands escaped his understanding.

But getting back to the Patronus, he simply couldn't cast it. No memory that he could dredge up was powerful enough to call forth the guardian. Experimentation showed that he was correct in his original assessment; thoughts of protection and safety worked best. After all, you couldn't be happy if you weren't safe.

He strongly suspected that the popular formula of using the happiest thought you could muster was a direct result of the misery inducing aura of a dementor. A simplistic line of thinking that was in tune with the usually simplistic view that wizards had of magic.

Sometimes, he despaired over how mundane they managed to make magic. The only person in the Wizarding World who had so far kept magic actually magical was Luna. That was probably why he liked her so much.

In any case, he clearly needed to rethink his approach to the Patronus. The memory of his mother's sacrifice was tainted by grief and loss and ultimately unsuited for the purpose. But nobody else came to mind when thinking of protection, he'd always needed to look to himself if he wanted protection without any strings attached.

Himself....there was an idea.

It can't be that simple...can it?

Having nothing to lose by trying it, Harry decided to focus inward instead of outward when trying to call the guardian.

Sinking into the Occlumency trance that he had begun to use pretty much every time that something needed deep contemplation, he focused on the image of what he had seen in the Mirror of Erised during his first year.

He was sure that the mirror would show him something subtly different if he were to look at it again. He hadn't been able to determine the features of his companion then, but now he was certain that it would be a woman.

Luna would be there too of course. He'd gotten so used to the eccentric blonde and her spit-take inducing statements that it was hard to imagine life without her.

Ginny....ehhh, he wasn't sure about her. He'd been willing to let bygones be bygones if she could drop that stupid crush and start acting normally, but she hadn't. She still tended to either avoid contact or look at him as if he'd done something wrong, which he knew he hadn't. At this point, he'd be perfectly happy if she decided that their friendship was over.

No, Ginny would probably not be making appearances in the Mirror of Erised if he looked at it again.

Then there was himself. He'd be wearing something made of basilisk hide, Harry knew. He'd been eagerly waiting for the day when he stopped growing so that he could get some of that stored hide tailored into an article of clothing.

His appearance was secondary however. What really mattered was that he would have all the things that he wanted in life. The freedom to do as he pleased, the company of people he could trust not to attempt using him in their schemes and the power to protect it all, to keep it from being taken from him.

Yes, he would be powerful enough to keep the world at bay, but that was for the future. For now, he would be strong enough to hold off the Dark. He wasn't going to be a snack for the dementors. He still had so much that he wanted to do. They weren't going to take his future from him.

Harry focused on that determination, that desire to protect himself and the things he held dear and pushed it into the spell.

A luminescent raven flew forth from his wand, making a circuit around the room before alighting weightlessly on his shoulder.

He smiled widely at his success, all the while thinking of how very appropriate the animal was. He had always been fond of ravens.

XXXXX

With the Christmas holidays approaching, Harry decided that it was time to make a move on the rat.

He had pondered how to go about this for some time and eventually decided that keeping things simple was for the best.

"You said you wanted to talk to me?" Ron Weasley asked catiously as he entered the empty room.

He'd received a surprising message from Potter with a request to speak to him privately.

He was wary and suspicious of this, as the Ravenclaw third year had never showed any inclination to speak to him since their first meeting on the train years ago.

Ron didn't trust Potter. Ravenclaws were a weird lot and that seventh year Slytherin girl he was sometimes seen with made him even less trustworthy.

Ron was also terribly jealous of the taller boy, though he didn't admit this even to himself. Potter had wealth, fame and most recently he also had a lot of good looking female company.

He'd encouraged his sister to break off ties with him. Ginny should never have been a Ravenclaw to begin with, she belonged with her family in Gryffindor. There was nothing to be done about her wrong sorting, but they could still get her some proper friends.

"I did." Harry confirmed, looking down at his redheaded yearmate. The quicker this ended the better. Weasley was a loud and opinionated little idiot at the best of times, so actually interacting with him more than necessary was a chore. He was essentially Malfoy-lite; slightly dumber, lazier and a less blatant waste of air, but just as prejudiced in many ways. "I want to buy your rat."

"Scabbers?" Ron blurted out in shock. "You want to buy Scabbers?"

His incredulity was entirely justified. Why would anyone want to buy a mangy old rat?

"I do. Ten galleons."

Ron gaped some more. That was a completely stupid amount of money for a mere rat. You could buy a whole swarm of them for that much.

"Why?" He asked, getting some of his surprise under control.

"I've heard it's a very long lived rat. I'm curious." Harry evaded.

"I'm not going to sell Scabbers to you so that you can....dissect him or something!" Ron retorted hotly.

Harry sighed in exasperation. "I'm not going to dissect him. The worst I'll do is cast some diagnostic spells, but you can rest assured that I won't harm him." The dementors can do that for me.

"He's been with our family for twelve years." Ron said uncertainly, his greed warring with his loyalty to his pet.

"I know, that's why I'm interested. Look I'll give you fifteen galleons for a rat that probably isn't going to live much longer. It's a bargain any way you look at it."

Ron hesitated. "I don't know...." He was still reluctant to part with his faithful rat, but that was a lot of money.

Harry struggled to keep the irritation off his face. Deciding to help the redhead make a decision, he wiggled his fingers and tossed a few compulsions his way.

It's just an old rat, he'll probably die soon anyway.

That's a lot of money.

I want that money. I NEED it.

Ron still looked to be harboring doubts, to Harry's considerable surprise. The annoying little idiot must be more attached to the rat than he thought if he was able to resist that kind of temptation.

"That's more than twice what a new wand costs." He commented idly. "I've noticed that yours was looking a bit worn out. It seems pretty dangerous to me to be using a damaged and poorly suited wand. Probably makes your spells a lot weaker too."

Ron's resistance finally started crumbling at that. He'd always wanted to stand out and the sudden power boost of a new wand would certainly help him with that. He'd even have enough leftover money to buy a few other things as well.

"I'll...I'll go get him for you."

"Thank you." Harry said, waiting for the boy to turn his back. When he did, he pulled out his wand and sent a much more powerful compulsion at the redhead.

I better not tell anyone about this. I'll just tell everyone that Scabbers got lost somewhere.

XXXXX

Ten minutes later, Harry had stuffed Wormtail into a pre-prepared cage that was enchanted to be unbreakable, ignoring Ron's protests about Scabbers being house trained and not needing to be caged. If he tried to transform, it would kill him, which would not be as good as having him alive, but the corpse of Peter Pettigrew would still be useful as evidence and Harry was not inclined to be so charitable to the betrayer of his parents as to be overly concerned whether he was handed over to the Ministry alive or dead.

XXXXX

Remus looked on as the students boarded the Hogwarts Express, going home for the Christmas holidays.

Harry was leaving too. Remus had hoped that the boy would stay so that they could finally talk, but it looked like it wasn't going to happen that way.

Not that he was oblivious to the fact that he could have approached the son of his friends at any time in the past few months, but had kept putting it off instead. It was entirely possible that he would have done the same even if Harry had stayed.

Remus was actually quite ashamed of himself. He was waiting for a boy of thirteen to make the first move instead of plucking up the courage to do it himself. It was getting harder too. The longer he waited, the more awkward the whole thing became. By now he was actually starting to think that it might be best to just leave well enough alone.

"I take it that you still have not spoken to young Harry?" Dumbledore asked from beside him.

Remus heard the gentle admonishment in the Headmaster's words, but could only shrug helplessly in response. He'd meant to so many times, but lost the courage every time he saw Lily's eyes in James' face.

"I do not believe that he will reject you, Remus." The old wizard said softly.

"I just doesn't seem like he needs me." The werewolf replied.

"Harry is remarkably mature young man." Dumbledore agreed.

That was what worried him so much actually. Despite having made friends in recent years, Harry still gave off the feeling of being aloof and separate from the people around him. It would not do for the Chosen One to be indifferent to the fate of the people he was supposed to be saving. He needed to be invested in the fate of Magical Britain by the time of Voldemort's return.

Which was why Remus' procrastinating was starting to exhaust Dumbledore's patience enough that he was seeing fit to prod the man along.

"But one can never have too many friends or family."

"After the holidays. I'll talk to him after the holidays." Remus determined.

XXXXX

As he had done the previous year, Harry took the Hogwarts Express to King's Cross, but called Teeny for transportation to Potter Manor as soon as he was somewhere private.

"Sirius, you're looking better." Harry greeted when the man came into view.

Sirius really did look better. Not as gaunt or as pale, his previously matted hair cut to hang down to his shoulders and his beard styled into a neat goatee. Even his teeth had been repaired from their previously rotten state.

"Amazing what some good food and time away from the dementors will do for a man." Sirius replied jokingly, taking the opportunity to get a better look at his godson. "Have you gotten taller again?"

"I hear that happens a lot with teenagers." Harry replied with dry sarcasm.

"But you're almost as tall as I am!" Sirius protested.

Not that Sirius was hugely tall. He'd been the shortest of the Marauders after Wormtail, something that had always privately annoyed him. James had been a couple of inches bigger than him and Remus had been a veritable giant in comparison. They'd caught up eventually, but Remus had remained the tallest at six feet and two inches.

"Yes, I know." Harry replied with a smirk, rather pleased by that. He had no doubt that his growth would slow down soon, but for now he was going to enjoy the height discrepancy.

Sirius looked briefly torn between irritation and amusement before his expression turned grim.

"Do you have him?"

"He's in my trunk, safely locked in an unbreakable cage." Harry said with a nod.

"I need to talk to him before we turn him over to the DMLE. I need to hear what he has to say for himself." The escaped convict growled, everything in his manner speaking of murderous rage.

Harry knew it was probably a bad idea, but he wanted to hear it too. He might have gotten over the deaths of his parents, but he too harbored a deep well of anger for the one who had betrayed them.

XXXXX

They had Teeny strip one of the unused rooms bare to remove any possible hiding spaces. Then they sealed every exit to prevent any escape attempts.

Only once that was done did Harry take the cage out of his trunk, curling his nose in disgust the whole time.

He had not been overly diligent in either feeding the rat or cleaning up after him for the week that he had had him, so Wormtail was in a sorry state by now. He'd given him enough food and water to survive, but he'd taken quite a bit of vindictive pleasure in leaving him to wallow in his own filth.

Wormtail had been living in a state of terror ever since Ron had handed him over to Harry in exchange for a fat sack of galleons. The whole thing had come so out of the blue that there had been no time to think, no time to make decision. He'd been stuffed into a cage before he'd even properly registered the situation and hadn't been let out since.

Worse, he knew that Harry knew the truth. The boy hadn't really spoken to him, but the anger burning in his green eyes was a clear enough indication.

Now he was being unceremoniously dumped out of the cage, but there was no relief to be found in finally being released from his filthy prison. Not with his old friend Sirius in the room with him and looking fit to tear him to ribbons with his bare hands.

"I need a wand to force him back into human form." Sirius said, staring coldly at the cowering animagus that apparently had no intention of transforming himself.

Wordlessly, Harry handed over his own.

A minute of Wormtail doing his level best to dodge Sirius' spells and Pettigrew was once again in human form for the first time in twelve years.

He was a sorry sight, and not just because spending so much time in his animagus form had left him looking permanently ratlike. Short, fat, balding, ugly, shifty eyed. It was like someone had designed a human being for the express purpose of looking untrustworthy. His parents must have been really good at not judging by apperances, because Harry himself wouldn't have trusted someone like this to guard a chamber pot. Someone elses's chamber pot at that.

"Sirius, Harry." Pettigrew simpered, as if greeting long lost friends.

"Why, Peter?" Sirius demanded angrily. "Why did you betray James and Lily?"

"I didn't mean to!" Pettigrew whined pitieously. "But the Dark Lord.... You have no idea of the powers he possesses. Just ask yourself what you would have done in my place."

"I WOULD HAVE DIED FOR THEM! LIKE YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED FOR THEM!" Sirius roared, completely enraged by the insinuation that Wormtail had just made.

Pettigrew flinched back violently, knowing that he'd blundered by saying that. He still had the Dark Lord's wand on him as well as his own, but he dared not use either. Not with Sirius already pointing one at him. He'd never get a single spell out. He tried a different tactic instead.

"Harry, please! Your father wouldn't have wanted me dead. James would have shown mercy." He didn't really believe that, but he was desperate to survive.

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY!" Sirius yelled again, interrupting any response from Harry himself.

"Don't let him kill me, please!" Wormtail begged, scrabling towards Harry nearly on all fours.

"Get away from me!" Harry snapped in disgust and backed away. Pettigrew was by far the most revolting person he'd ever encountered, both literally and figuratively. The way that the rat was begging for his life was making him so angry that his Occlumency was threatening to be overwhelmed for the first time in quite a while.

Unlike pretty much every other Occlumancer, Harry had almost completely ignored the part designed for defending the mind from external intrusion. Instead, he had focused on enhancing his ability to control his emotions and to improve his memory.

This was generally a terrible idea, as it actually made it easier for a Legilimancer to rifle through a mind that was well organized but undefended.

Normally, an Occlumancer would first learn to clear their minds into blankness on demand. Once sufficient skill in that was reached, it was possible to create a wall of non-thought to keep Legilimancers out. Of course, a Legilimancer could force their victim to make mental associations by projecting their own thoughts and follow that thread of thought into their memories, leaving it up to the individual skill of the practicioner to decide the winner of the mental struggle. Those who were particularly skilled could even section off their minds to present a false front, duping the Legilimancer into thinking that what they saw was the whole of someone's mind and not just another front. That particular skill was pretty much a requirement for a wizard spy.

Only once that was mastered was it advisable for the Occlumancer to begin putting the chaos of one's mind to order. This had great benefits for emotional control and memory, but it wasn't a skill that could ever be mastered. Much like the actual defensive parts of Occlumency, it was an ability that had no real upper limit and needed to be practiced often lest it degrade.

Harry practiced his Occlumency almost religiously, knowing that he was much more at risk of losing control of his emotions than most people.

"Harry! Please!" Wormtail howled as Sirius cast what was essentially an upgraded version of a stinging hex at him, the only difference being that this one felt rather more like a hot stove than a hard slap.

The problem with trying to control your emotions was that the cause of said emotions was often still present and making things harder. In this case, that would be Pettigrew's incessant begging for mercy.

Sirius was quite clearly not getting any calmer either if his progressively crueler spell selection was any indication.

"Shut up." Harry ground out, wanting both of them to just stop until he could shift the fury he was currently feeling to the back of his mind where it could be dealt with later.

But they didn't stop. Sirius had a mad glint in his eye that didn't indicate self-control and was getting disturbingly close to the Cruciatus, heedless of the fact that Harry's wand would carry that spell history.

"I'm sorry!" Pettigrew sobbed.

"Shut up!" Harry repeated, louder and angrier this time. His runes felt like a thousand angry ants crawling over his body.

He was ignored again. Sirius kept on screaming a stream of vitriol at the cowering rat animagus, intersped with moderate-to-severe torture curses. And of course, Pettigrew was in no state to consider the fact that his begging was only making things worse.

"Make him stop!" He wailed, somehow managing to sound even more pathetic than before. "Lily wouldn't have wanted this! Please make him stop! Do it for your mother, Harry."

Sirius looked about fit to explode with rage at that, pushed completely beyond rational thought at having the traitor invoke the name of the woman he'd betrayed to draw some mercy out of her son.

Harry wasn't much better off than his godfather. He'd been exerting monumental effort to not give in to his rage and join in, but everyone had limits and Pettigrew had just exceeded them.

"SHUT UP!" He roared, thrusting his hand out at the rat and willing him to stop his infuriating begging with his whole being.

Harry had long since noted that powerful emotions made it easier to use magic without a wand. He had also noted that they tended to twist the spells into something different. The more powerful and chaotic the emotion, the more the spell deviated from the purpose intended by its caster.

Harry had only wanted Wormtail to stop talking, but that last sentence had pushed him beyond the limits of his control. His spell came out powered by the full force of his rage and rage was not a precise emotion by any means. Whereas a normal silencing spell might be a scalpel, his rage turned it into a broadsword. This was further compounded by the fact that Harry didn't actually know how to cast a wandless silencing spell, so he had just brutally pushed his magic outward, furiously demanding that it do his will.

The problem was that Harry kind of wanted to hurt Wormtail too.

The spell roared out of his hand, tinted the fiery orange of a blasting curse. It streaked towards the traitor's mouth just as Harry had intended. It also silenced Wormtail just like Harry had intended.

Unlike what Harry had intended, it did so by blowing his head and a good portion of his chest into gory pulp.

The two still living wizards stumbled back from the explosion of gore that painted the whole room in bloodsplatter, expressions of shock on both of their faces.

Sirius looked to his godson and worked his jaw in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. Wormtail's sudden death had snapped him out of the mad haze he'd been in, but now he was simply so shocked that words seemed wholly insufficient.

Harry was in an even worse state. The rage had gone out of him with the spell and the shock of the fact that he'd just killed someone left him reeling. The disgusting sight of a man's open chest cavity spilling pulped internal organs across the room didn't help. He quickly added to the mess by voiding his stomach on the floor.

I killed a man.

I murdered a man.

Harry felt something crack inside him at the realization and not in an entirely figurative sense at that. He could feel the change in his magic.

There was no way to describe it with words, no analogy that would suffice. The closest thing he could think of was a pane of glass or a mirror that had been hit hard enough to crack but not enough to break. He could practically feel the newly made cracks in his soul and magic spreading through him as the psychological impact of the murder sank in.

He was distantly aware that Sirius was stammering something but it was all just so much noise. Teeny had showed up at some point too and seemed to be panicking about something. Probably the mess.

The absurd thought made him want to giggle. Judging by the worried looks he got, he might have actually giggled.

Then things somehow managed to get worse.

As the cracks kept spreading, another sensation became known to him. Arhain suddenly began to radiate cold. He barely noticed at first, but then it began to spread. First to Aul'El and Da'Roir, which were part of the same set, then to the other two sets with whom it shared weaker connections, fingers of cold creeping through the anchors of his magic.

And with the cold came the Dark. It seeped through the newly made cracks in his soul, grasping at him and his magic just like the dementor on the train had done.

Harry gasped at the feel of it and damn near panicked when he saw his breath misting as it exited his chilled lungs.

He ignored Sirius and stumbled out of the room at a sprint, wanting nothing more than to get outside. He needed to think and a room that reeked of blood, death, vomit and most recently, shit, wasn't helping with that.

He made it out the front door in record time, falling to his hands and knees as soon as he reached the outside. It was December and the Hogwarts Express had taken a long time to get to London, so the sky was already dark.

"Alright, don't panic. Think." He said to himself, staunchly ignoring the slow creep of Dark through his damaged soul and the chill of his breath that had nothing to do with the season.

It took a little while to force his mind away from the murder he'd just committed and focus on his more pressing problem.

He didn't for a moment believe that this was a normal reaction to a kill, not even to a murder. That meant that it had to be something to do with him and the only thing it was likely to be was his runes.

My runes, what did I do with my runes that would cause this? Does it have something to do with the dementor? No, it has to be earlier than that. Nobody else can sense the Dark like I can. They feel the effects of the dementors but not the Dark that makes them what they are.

There was only one rune he could think of that would be responsible for this.

Arhain.

Stealth. Secrets. Shadows. The Dark of Night.

He'd only used it for its association with secrets and stealth. He'd thought its association with darkness to be irrelevant. He'd thought of it of course, it was impossible not to, but he'd considered it to be just a pointless bit of fluff. It came out of a game after all. There was nothing scary about the night.

Now Harry looked up into the night sky and wondered how many stupid wizards had made the same mistake, accidentally dabbling with forces beyond all mortal comprehension.

Because now that his soul had cracked open, the Dark had found a way inside. It must have lingered around his magic ever since he'd carved Arhain into himself while thinking of the infinite void of space, just waiting for the day when something happened to put a crack into his soul. It could very well be the reason why the dementors had been drawn to him.

He could feel the Dark clearer now than he ever had and the sheer vastness of it threatened to undo him. It was everywhere, stretching across the whole of the Universe, it's hungry cold presence held back only by the raging fire of the stars. He realized with painful clarity that this must be the reason why magicals constantly kept braying about the dangers of Dark Magic. They had long since forgotten what the real Dark was, but the warning itself had survived.

He knew what he had to do now. Another ritual, this one invoking the Sun and stars, the Light. He'd already been preparing one, so much of the groundwork was already done. It would have to be modified, but not by much. He hadn't thought that the Sun had any noteworthy magic in it when he'd chosen it, now he had to wonder if it hadn't been some magical instinct that had made him decide to use the Avariel runes again, this time invoking an entity in direct opposition to the Dark.

Harry let out a half hysterical laugh. Every book on rituals that he'd ever read about had warned against invoking unknown or disparate forces, now he was deliberately going to do the latter as a counter to his accidental use of the former. It was an incredibly reckless course of action that had a good chance of killing him in a truly spectacular fashion.

But there was no choice. If he didn't do it, the Dark would consume him from within and leave him hollow.

Chapter Text

Sirius stared at his fleeing godson's back, feeling as if the world had just taken a sharp left turn without warning anyone.

Pettigrew was dead.

The thought was as satisfying as it was horrible.

He hadn't meant for things to go that far, but once Peter had started talking and begging for his miserable life, still making excuses even now, the familiar red haze from twelve years ago had come down. Sirius was actually surprised that he'd limited himself to non-lethal spells, but that was probably more to do with the fact that his mind had been on causing pain and he hadn't been in any state to shift mental gears.

He'd picked up quite a few nasty spells from his family even if he hadn't wanted to and Azkaban had given him a long time to fantasize about using them.

The fact that it would now be much harder to prove his innocence was a distant secondary concern to the fact that Harry had killed someone. Thirteen was way too young to have that hanging over you.

Then was the fact that Harry had cast a lethal spell without his wand. The most wandless magic that Sirius had ever seen had come from Dumbledore, but even that had been just parlor tricks and not really anything too impressive aside from the fact that it was wandless.

But his godson's astonishing achievement wasn't important right now. He needed to go see if Harry was alright.

He found him outside, kneeling in the snow and staring at the night sky with a look that was hard to decipher. It looked like something between shock, awe and a sort of horrified realization.

Harry picked himself up before Sirius could make his way over, his face now hardened into an expression of driven purpose that he'd last seen on Lily's.

"Harry..." He started, not really sure what to say to make this situation better.

"Not now, Sirius." Harry snapped, brushing past him roughly.

Sirius shrank back, incorrectly assuming that his godson was angry at him for losing it with Wormtail.

Not wanting to let things stew, he ran to catch up to the stomping thirteen year old and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Harry, I'm so-"

He made it no further than that. Harry spun around and grabbed him by his robes, actually lifting him off the ground, much to his incredulity.

"What part of 'not now' do you not understand?!" Harry hissed furiously, tossing him aside and sending him stumbling into a couch. "Whatever you have to say, say it later. I have somethig that I have to do. Until then, don't bother me."

And Sirius obeyed, cowed into submission by a boy twenty years younger than him. He obeyed because Harry seemed so much more than just a thirteen-year old wizard in that moment. Too tall and too strong and too powerful. Age didn't mean much when he could feel the unmistakable pressure of a powerful wizard's magic pressing threateningly into his own, daring him to rise up in challenge.

Worse than any of that though, was the sense of something inhuman staring out from Harry's eyes.

XXXXX

Harry regretted blowing up at Sirius like that, but he was still grateful that it kept the man off his back. He'd apologize later. He had no time to talk about the giant fuck up they had to deal with now. He had no time to deal with the fact that he'd killed a man. He had no time to explain to his godfather about the wandless magic and the runes, which he knew that he was now going to have to do.

The only thing he had time for was to finish preparing for the next ritual and he didn't even have as much time for that as he'd have liked.

His soul had stopped cracking and the spread of Dark had slowed, but it was still spreading nonetheless. He expected that it would always be there even if his next ritual managed to balance it out enough to save him.

What the Void took, the Void kept. Of this he was certain. He had made a sacrifice to that entity, giving it a place in his magic in exchange for power. He had done it ignorantly, unknowingly, but he had done it all the same. It would not leave.

So many questions and theories crowded his thoughts, but he had to focus. He had to hurry before the Dark did more than merely ooze through the cracks in his soul, before it started taking things that could never be regained. Because he was afraid that it would do worse than just kill him. If it wanted that, it only needed to wait. Everyone and everything went to the Void in the end. Harry wasn't sure how he knew that, but he knew it.

What he was truly afraid of here wasn't dying, it was the grim certainty that dementors weren't really Non-Beings at all, but the empty shells of wizards who had dabbled with the Void without taking the necessary precautions. Now nothing more than hollow carriers of Dark, their magic turned into a conduit for the Void, existing to take things from a world that was otherwise protected by the Sun.

XXXXX

A day later, the final preparations were complete and the ritual was set to begin.

Harry could feel that the Dark inside him had grown stronger, but not yet so strong that he was too late. It had been getting harder to focus, harder to feel afraid of what was happening to him. The world now seemed just a touch surreal, as if he was looking at it through a dirty pane of glass. As the Dark grew in strength, his sense of self waned.

Harry wasn't oblivious to the rather disturbing similarities that his situation had with the Dark Souls game franchise. He'd tried to play it years ago and gave up in a huff when it proved too difficult for his nine year old self, but he had come to appreciate its surprisingly deep and subtle plot later on, even if he had never personally finished the game.

The fact that he was now intending to link himself to the Sun in order to stave off the Dark amused him and terrified him in equal measure. He remembered all too clearly what happened to the Chosen Undead if he decided to link the fires in the Kiln of the First Flame.

He really hoped that he wasn't going to set himself on fire doing this. It was going to be his last ritual one way or another, because if this worked then he didn't want to risk upsetting the balance with any further additions.

He had originally been intending to perform this ritual in the Potter ritual chamber like all the others, but it just didn't feel right to do this one beneath the ground.

That was why he was now making his way away from the manor in the pre-dawn darkness, moving towards the east. The light covering of snow crunched under his shoes as he walked and the night was cold and black, seeming even colder and darker because the skies were clear. The moon and stars did nothing to counter that feeling when he could feel the Void pressing in around him.

He turned his mind away from that, knowing instinctively that focusing on it would only make things worse. He focused on making a suitable platform for the ritual instead, using the wand he'd retaken from Sirius on his way out to transfigure a flat stone surface and then inscribing the instructions on it that would allow the knife to act independently.

This time, there was no hesitation as he took off his shirt and began the ritual.

"Ca'Daith."

Grace. Power. Music of the Stars.

A rune to to call on the Light magic that he was now certain was inherent to the stars and also to make sure that he did not rely completely on the Sun. It would be the height of irony to find out that this final rune set only worked during the day. He decided to have it carved just under his left collarbone. It seemed appropriate to have it mirror Arhain.

"Yen'Lui."

Balance. Harmony. Chaos.

This rune's sole purpose was to ensure that the clash of Light and Dark inside him didn't have explosive results. He feared that the Sun would burn him out if he did not use this rune. There was an uncomfortably high chance of it happening anyway. This one was carved on the lower end of his breastbone, equidistant from both Arhain and Ca'Daith.

"Sol."

The Sun. The Ever Seeing Eye. Consciousness.

This rune was doubled and carved into his temples. He'd been planning to use it to enhance his eyes and give himself the ability to see magic as well as expand his capacity to feel it. That had now become its secondary purpose, but Harry was still pleased that he was able to sneak in one final enhancement.

Once the carving was done, Harry took a deep breath and waited tensely, knowing that the ritual was not over yet. Of the three runes, only Yen'Lui felt active, which was as he had expected. The other two would become active once they were hit by sunlight, which should be any second now if the brightening sky was any indication.

He grunted in surprised pain as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon and washed over him. He hadn't expected that magic born in the violence of the Solar Core would be gentle, but its fierceness still surprised him. How had wizards ever gotten the idea into their heads that Light was gentle?

Ca'Daith and Sol burned. Yen'Lui prickled madly as it attempted to temper the violent reaction between Light and Dark.

Harry shut his eyes tighly as Sol executed its purpose. They stung terribly and he felt them bleed from the sudden change. He'd expected that, so it didn't worry him.

At the same time, he felt his perception expand as the rune's power touched his mind. The sensations were jumbled, unfamiliar as they were to him, but what was happening inside him was clear.

Dark gave way before Light as was its nature, but with the understanding that it would still be there, that it could never be pushed out. His other runes broke open and bled as Light burned through them. Where Dark was cold and slow, Light was fire and voraciously consumed all it touched.

Once it had pushed the Dark out of all the runes except Arhain, where a shard of Dark was connected to the infinite Void and could not be burned away, it surged into the cracks in his soul. It didn't hurt in the physical sense, but Harry knew instantly that he had preferred the gentle creep of Dark. Given the slightest opportunity, Light would burn him to nothing.

It was a decidedly uncomfortable experience to feel the Dark slowly relinquishing its grip on the edges of his damaged soul as Light advanced, but there was nothing to do except endure it as Yen'Lui worked to keep things from spiralling out of control.

But there was one chunk of his soul that the Dark had grasped tightly and seemed intent on taking. It had nearly pulled it away from the whole.

No, not my soul. Harry realized, now seeing that the piece did not match the rest of him. It had a dormant quality to it, but it was unquestionably foreign. That isn't mine, it doesn't belong there. How did a piece of someone else's soul attach itself to me?

It must have been with him for a long time, to have gone undetected until he'd cracked his soul enough to expose it. Unlike the rest, this one piece felt as if it been rather haphazardly attached to him and had come loose once his soul was no longer whole.

Voldemort, it has to be. Something of him must have been left inside me when he tried to kill me.

Not really sure what he was doing, but knowing that he definitely did not want that madman's soul latched on to his own, Harry pushed. He focused on that foreign soul shard and began forcing it out. He had been afraid of what would happen if the Dark took any of his soul, but it was more than welcome to the piece of Voldemort.

Its already tenuos grip on him broke once he rejected it so completely and the Dark took it instantly, as it did all unanchored souls.

With that done, the Dark put up no more struggle and allowed Light free reign.

Squinting with painfully stinging eyes, Harry shuffled back towards the manor.

XXXXX

Sirius hadn't been quite sure what to do with himself for the past day. Neither Teeny nor Charlus and Dorea would tell him what Harry was up to, but he was sure that it was something big.

His godson had locked himself in the study and hadn't left it since. His wand was still in Sirius' possession, apparently being considered unimportant, which was an attitude that Sirius had never expected to see from any witch or wizard. Then again, he hadn't expected to see this level of wandless magic either.

In the absence of anything else to do, he had put Wormtail's gruesome remains into stasis and stuffed them into an unused trunk. He was quite unrecognizable, but there were magical ways to determine a dead wizard's identity by his blood as long as they had his magical signature on file, which the Ministry should have. The corpse could still be useful.

Finally, after he had nearly paced a hole into the floor in fruitless worry, Harry had come out of the study.

Unfortunately, all he had done was grab his wand from Sirius possession with a terse warning to stay inside. He'd tried to get some answers out of Charlus and Dorea again, but they merely looked uncomfortable and still refused to speak. The only thing they would say was that it was Harry's secret to tell and that he should leave him alone to do what he was going to do.

Finally, Harry came back, but Sirius couldn't feel anything besides stunned horror at the sight of him.

His godson was only wearing a pair of pants and streaked with blood from head to toe. Even more disturbing were the twin trails of bloody tears coming from his eyes, eyes that were so bloodshot that the sclera had effectively turned completely red and whose green color now gleamed visibly with magic.

"Harry?" Sirius asked cautiously.

"Not yet, Sirius." Harry replied with weary clam. "Let me get cleaned up first, then we'll talk.

Sirius looked worried, but nodded all the same. His godson had been up to something obviously dangerous and quite probably illegal, but it seemed like the worst was over. He could wait a little longer to get answers.

XXXXX



XXXXX

"....and here we are." Harry finished, slouched in an armchair.

Sirius looked at his godson, looking less like some kind of eldritch abomination and more like a human being now that the blood had been cleaned off, his sclera had gone back to white and he was dressed in a comfortable bathrobe. He could almost convince himself that nothing had changed, if only it wasn't for the rune that he could plainly see carved into his godson's forehead now that he'd been told it was there and the shimmer of magic in his eyes that made them a touch brighter than they'd been before.

It had been quite a tale and Sirius wasn't sure whether to be impressed or horrified.

"Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but what the hell is wrong with you?" He asked in a deadpan tone of voice. "What kind of eleven year old is introduced to magic and thinks 'I think I'll ritualistically mutilate myself'?"

"The kind that grew up thinking of all the cool enhancement rituals he could do?" Harry asked rhetorically.

Sirius went on as if he hadn't said anything. "And then, when you figured out that your first set was giving you the urge to shag your foster mother, you didn't think that it might have been a good idea to rethink things?"

Harry didn't know it yet, but this was mildly hypocritical of Sirius. It wouldn't have stopped him either. Well, it would have if it had made him lust after his own mother, who had been a hag in every sense of the word except the literal one, but being attracted to a fine piece of ass like Katherine Shaw would not have bothered him in the slightest, no matter his relation to her.

"It seemed like a fair trade." Harry shrugged. "An overactive libido and a bad temper in exchange for a stronger body and faster maturation? I regret nothing."

"And your second set, the one that nearly turned you into a dementor just now?" Sirius demanded. That had been an unwelcome revelation and he wasn't sure if he believed his godson's claim of dementors being the leftovers of wizards who'd carelessly dabbled with Dark. It was just too creepy for words.

"That one I might have done differently if I knew what was going to happen." Harry admitted.

"Might have?!"

"Despite the close shave, I'm actually pretty happy with the way things turned out. You have no idea about all the things I see and know now." He could see the magic in the manor and in Sirius and he could feel the Sun in the sky. There were so many things that he had been blind to before.

"And Wormtail?" Sirius challenged, becoming frustrated with his godson's recklesness. He'd thought that Harry was a lot like Remus; quiet, studious, thoughtful and he was, but when it came to magic he was a hundred times as reckless as all the Marauders put together.

Harry sobered instantly. He'd been trying not to think of that.

"We might still be able to use him to clear your name, we'll just have to be creative about the cause of his death."

"That's not what I meant, Harry." Sirius said gently.

"I know."

"You don't have to feel guilty. I probably would have killed him myself if you hadn't done it."

"Sirius, I killed a man because I lost my temper. Don't patronize me." And he couldn't even feel too sorry about it for any reason but for the fact that it would make proving Sirius' innocence harder. Yes, he wished that he hadn't done it, but he was not as broken up about it as he felt that he should be.

The worst part was that he didn't know if that was yet another side-effect of his runes or if it was something about him. Were the runes or his exposure to Light and Dark meddling with his sense of morality, or was he simply somewhat lacking in that department to begin with? Either way it was a disturbing thought.

He could feel the potential to cast the Killing Curse within him now. It was such a terribly simple spell, as simple as Lumos. Nothing but raw killing intent given power through magic. No shield could block it because it was so pure in its intent that only something equally pure could block it. Something like a mother's willing sacrifice for her child. It wasn't an Unforgivable because the spell was Dark or evil, it was an Unforgivable because you had to be a killer already to cast it.

XXXXX

That evening found Harry on the highest balcony of the manor, looking to the west.

He and Sirius hadn't managed to work out a viable solution to his fugitive status just yet. They had tentative plans, but nothing that they were in a hurry to implement at this point for fear of it backfiring spectacularly. Wormtail's death made things complicated. They'd have to spin it in a way that didn't make it look like murder.

Now Harry was waiting for the sunset, running his hands over his invisibility cloak and wondering at the piece of Dark he could see and sense in it now. Such a strange thing that he'd carried it around for years and never known it.

He'd read that invisibility cloaks tended to degrade into uselessness after a few years, but this one had by all accounts been around for decades at the least. Harry knew that this was due to it being infused with Dark. It had to be one of a kind, as he doubted that the secrets to this kind of craft had been shared beyond the original maker. Maybe Sirius would know about any legendary invisibility cloaks or similar artefacts.

When the Sun began to set, Harry observed it with a rapturous smile. He'd never paid much attention to sunsets before, but now he found them impossible to ignore.

How could he, when he could feel the Sun's blinding presence recede to make way for the Dark and the stars? The Sun was too close and too powerful. It blotted out so much. Now that it had set, he could see and feel the distant Light of uncountable billions of stars against the backdrop of Dark. He'd never thought that something so beautiful could exist. Even more, it was echoed inside his own soul. The Light inside him waned with the Sun, making way for Dark, speckled with the Light of the distant stars.

If given the choice to redo things with the knowledge he now had, he wouldn't change this. The risk of death and hollowing had been worth it to be able to see magic as he saw it now. He would have done it in a more controlled manner, but he would have done it anyway.

"For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been and there you will long to return." He murmured to himself, recalling the old quote from Da Vinci that he'd come across years ago. It fit the situation perfectly.

Now that he'd seen past the tiny perspective of wizards, he could never again confine himself to that world. Wizards who learned spells but did not know them, who used magic but did not know it, who's best explanation boiled down to 'it just was'. It would drive him mad as surely as having to pretend that he was a toddler again.

XXXXX

"Legendary invisibility cloaks?" Sirius said in surprise. "Why would you want to know about that?"

"There's something special about this one." Harry answered, holding up his father's cloak but not elaborating further.

"I don't really know the story behind it." Sirius said with a shrug. "I know that it's a Potter family heirloom, but that's all."

"And that doesn't strike you as strange?" Harry asked pointedly. "Invisibility cloaks aren't supposed to last that long."

"A lot of old magical artefacts are pretty extraordinary by today's standards. To quote a muggle, 'they don't make 'em like they used to'."

"I'm surprised that you can actually quote a muggle." Harry snorted.

"I'll have you know that I'm actually very knowledgeable about muggles." Sirius protested indignantly. "My family hated them, so I made sure to be as muggle as possible. I even got myself a motorcycle, though I did enchant it to fly. That's actually where I heard that particular saying."

"Riiiight." Harry drawled laconically, deciding not to ask whether Sirius had a license. "But back to the point, legendary invisibility cloaks?"

"Nothing really comes to mind." Sirius admitted. "The only thing I can think off is the tale of the Deathly Hallows, but that's just a children's story."

"Tell it to me."

"Aren't you a bit old for bedtime stories?" The dog animagus teased.

Harry just rolled his eyes and waved at him, silently telling him to get on with it.

"I'll tell it to you if you tell me how your night with those two lovely ladies of yours went." Sirius bargained. He and James had always swapped details about these things, but Harry was proving to be a more secretive fellow. James hadn't become like that until he'd gotten together with Lily.

Harry rolled his eyes again. "What's there to tell? We met up somewhere private, we got naked, we had sex, we fell asleep."

"You can't cheapen your first sexual experience like that, especially since it was a threesome!" Sirius protested.

"I lost my virginity back in July." Harry replied blandly.

"Damn!" Sirius cursed.

"What?"

"That means you were twelve at the time."

"So?"

"That means you ditched your virginity two years sooner than me."

"So?"

"How am I supposed to be a rolemodel if you outperform me in everything?"

"You can stick around and provide a morale boost by showing me how great I am in comparison."

"That's harsh, Harry."

"So is life, now get to the bedtime story."

Sirius grinned at the banter, fondly remembering similar verbal spars with James. His best friend might be gone, but something of him had survived in his son.

"Alright, fine. It goes like this....."

XXXXX

House elves were weird.

That was Harry's conclusion as he watched Teeny use some magic with his new magesight, as he'd requested. The small house elf's magic looked like nothing he'd ever seen. He had admittedly not seen much since he'd only just acquired the ability to see magic, but it just looked....weird, almost like human magic, but so warped.

He'd tried to enlist her help in figuring out wandless magic soon after he'd first come to the manor, but that had been a dead end. House elves had no idea how they used magic, they just did. That had been quite frustrating to hear at the time. How can you use something if you didn't know how you used it? His persistent questioning had nearly driven Teeny to tears when she had been unable to answer him, so he'd let it go.

House elves also couldn't use spells in the same fashion as wizards. In fact, they couldn't cast spells at all. The closest aproximation they could make was a blast of force that could pass for a banishing or bludgening spell. Pretty much everything else they could do revolved around their duties as servants, which made sense in light of the fact that house elves would literally die if they weren't bonded to a master or a powerful magical location for an extended period.

Which of course made not a lick of sense if you took it out of the Wizarding World sandbox and looked at it from a broader perspective. There was simply no conceivable situation in which an entire sapient species would evolve to be slaves to another, no matter how special witches and wizards thought they were.

Conclusion? House elves weren't natural.

Admittedly it was a conclusion based mostly on conjecture, but it made more sense to him than the alternative, especially when the feel of their magic was taken into account.

"Teeny, do house elves eat?" He asked.

"Sir?" She asked, confused.

"Do you need food the way that I do?"

"No sir, house elves only be needing a master's magic." She answered with a shake of her head, sending her big ears flopping everywhere.

Definitely unnatural. Harry was betting on some kind of sophisticated homunculi that had over time developed sapience. He certainly wouldn't put it past some wizard to have gotten the idea to create a servant race because he couldn't be bothered to fluff his own pillows.

Probably best to keep that bit of conjecture to himself. He couldn't think of a single positive outcome if he started spread that around. At least not right now.

XXXXX

"You know that this is illegal, right?" Sirius asked wryly.

"Sirius, you are a fugitive from the law and I am harboring you, not to mention the mangled carcass we have stashed in a trunk. I hardly think that the legalities of you teaching me to apparate four years ahead of schedule are noteworthy."

"Alright, just checking." He'd tried. If Harry didn't want to be a responsible citizen, then far be it from Sirius to try and make him one.

With a noisy crack, Sirius apparated about three feet to the left.

"Huh, that's interesting." Harry commented.

"What is?" The past few days with his godson had shown Sirius that Harry sometimes noticed things about magic that most people missed. Lily had that quality too, though not quite the same. Maybe it was due to them having a muggle upbringing.

"I wonder how it works?" Harry mused, apparently to himself.

"The way it was explained to me is that you have to keep the three D's in mind. Destination, Determination and Deliberation. You need to keep the destination fixed firmly in your mind, you have to be utterly determined to reach it, and you have to be very deliberate but unhurried about it. Once you've got all that, you just kind of...will yourself to wherever you want to go."

"Yes, that's how you do it, but how does it work?"

Sirius blinked. "What?"

Harry sighed. Honestly.

Sirius frowned. Lily had sighed exactly like that whenever someone said something especially stupid to her. James had gotten sighed at like that a lot.

"Do it again."

Sirius shrugged to himself and apparated again.

"Again."

Crack.

"Again."

Crack.

"Again."

"Harry, why am I apparating back and forth like this?"

"Because I'm trying to figure out how exactly you're using your magic to create a pathway through space without killing yourself."

"Such a bloody Ravenclaw." Sirius complained. "Just try it already. I'm pretty sure that I can fix you if you end up splinching yourself."

"I'd rather not test that belief, now do it again."

"Fine." Crack.

"Again."

Crack.

"Again."

Sigh. Crack.

"What does it feel like to apparate?"

"Kind of like being squeezed through a tube actually. Pretty unpleasant until you get used to it."

"Hmm, do it again."

An even more dramatic sigh. Crack.

"What's with the crack?"

"No idea, but it happens every time someone apparates?"

"Probably just violently displaced air then, but better safe than sorry. Do it again."

Sigh with eyeroll. Crack.

"Ah, I see."

"What are you seeing, oh wise one?" Sirius asked dryly.

"You're forming a narrow pathway through space and then forcing yourself through it. The interesting part is that the 'exit' side of this little magical wormhole has to be anchored in some way to the planet for it to be safe. That must be why rushing it leads to splinching, you don't anchor yourself properly and come out wrong. How you're managing to do it subconsciously escapes me though, probably lucky chance. Maybe......hmm....Apparating into the air doesn't work, does it? "

"No. In fact, apparating onto anything at all that isn't solid ground is a good way to get splinched, sometimes even killed and there's even stories of people vanishing altogether, never to be seen again." Sirius said, a bit confused as to how Harry had guessed that. And what the hell was a wormhole anyway?

"A quirk of thought then. You automatically associate solid ground with the planet and that's apparently enough to keep you safe. Rather amusing how close to messy death you are every time you apparate."

"There you go, scaring me with all these theories like a typical Ravenclaw." Sirius said. "I really need to teach you a few Gryffindor qualities."

"Blockheaded stupidity isn't a quality, Sirius."

"Your mother said that a lot, but I never gave in to her peer pressure."

"Obviously."

"Well then smarty pants, why don't you show me how it's done?"

Harry honestly thought apparition to be a rather insane mode of travel, but instantaneus teleportation was entirely too useful a skill to not learn simply because it was crazy. Occlumency helped him fix the image of his destination in his mind and then he simply willed himself to pass through the intervening space in a wormhole made of his own magic, making sure that the exit was latched on to the planet to prevent any mishaps. Earth wasn't a stationery object in space after all and he had a feeling that those people who had disappeared had ended up drifting through vacuum.

Crack.

Sirius hadn't been kidding, that really was unpleasant.

"Showoff."

Harry smirked at his godfather, openly gloating at one upping him.

"So, is there any other illegal bit of magic that you'd like to learn today?" Sirius asked sarcastically.

Harry considered it for a moment and then nodded. He could practice apparating later.

"The animagus transformation."

Sirius was surprised for a moment and then chuckled gleefully.

"Ah, a new Marauder in the making!"

"Hate to break it to you, Sirius, but I'm not much of a prankster." Harry pointed out.

"I'm sure we can turn you into one." Sirius said with authority and then affected a pensive look. "But I think we might want to wait until the summer to start teaching you that. It's not something that you can do in a few days."

For one thing, the animagus transformation could be dangerous and Harry had demonstrated a disturbingly large amount of recklessness with dangerous magic. For another, if he tried to finish it on his own and screwed up, he'd have to go to McGonagall to fix it and that would expose the secret. Being an animagus was way more fun if nobody knew it.

XXXXX

In the end, Sirius and Harry decided to deal with the Pettigrew situation over the summer. Neither one of them had any faith in the fairness of the government, one from bitter experience and the other from a deliberately cultivated sense of cynicism, so making hasty decision was a no-no. They would communicate through letters for the rest of the school year and hammer out a plan to be executed during the summer. Harry would have the free time to deal with it then and this was something that his fame would actually be useful for. Besides getting laid that was.

Harry sighed in his train compartment, alone for now. Hogwarts was starting to become a nuisance. He still loved to learn about magic, but other things were starting to pile up and he couldn't keep putting them off until the summer all the time. Not to mention that he was outpacing the curriculum and starting to become quite bored in a number of classes.

"Hello again, Harry." A dreamy voice greeted as the door slid open.

Of course, there were upsides to Hogwarts, Harry conceded with a smile.

"Hey Luna."

"How was your Christmas?" She asked as she sat down.

"It was interesting." He replied, barely managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"I suppose it must have been." Luna agreed, peering at his eyes.

Harry knew that they were too bright. His green eyes had always been vibrant, but now they verged on the point of glowing. No doubt a side effect of the Sol runes constantly keeping a bit of Light in them.

Mercifully, Luna apparently decided not to ask questions. "I had a visit from Ginny."

"Oh?" Harry questioned, more out of a desire to move past the topic of his eyes than any real curiousity. Luna's 'go with the flow' attitude was something that he'd always liked.

"Yes, she wanted to wish me a merry Christmas and speculate about how many girls you're sleeping with."

"Really?" Ginny had drifted off into acquaintance status this year, apparently unable to deal with the fact that he was nothing at all like she'd imagined. She clearly wasn't above gossiping though.

"Ginny thinks there's only Bryanna, but I'm pretty sure that you've also got one in Slytherin."

Harry was normally very reticent with information of any kind, he hadn't even told Luna about his invisibility cloak, but right at that moment he felt like being honest. Maybe keeping quiet about this just didn't seem important anymore after what had happened recently, or maybe Sirius was a bad influence on him.

"I actually have three. There's also this muggle girl that I meet up with during the summer."

Luna clapped her hands excitedly at the news. "Oh, that's wonderful! It makes my Christmas present even more appropriate!"

"How so?" Harry asked, bemused.

Instead of answering, Luna went for her trunk and dug out a book.

"'The Lovegood Guide on how to Love Very Good'?" Harry read the title, even more bemused.

"My great-great-grandmother was making a study of sex magic and preparing to publish that book before the European Ministries unanimously classed sex magic as a Dark Art in 1870. She wasn't able to publish it after that, but she still finished it." Luna explained without being prompted.

"How in the world could sex magic be classed as a Dark Art?" Harry demanded irritably. Of all the stupid things to classify as a Dark Art.....

"It was first used by the Succubi and the Ministry deemed that anything used by them had to be a Dark Art."

"Succubi are real?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Not any more. The last of them was killed in 1637." Luna answered mournfully.

"Let me guess, they weren't the soul sucking demons of myth but just a misunderstood race of gorgerous women?" Harry ventured. He wouldn't put it past wizards, or in this case more likely witches, to wipe out another species out of some misplaced sense of righteousness.

"Its never been proven that they sucked out souls." Luna chirped, causing Harry to blink at the implications of the statement. "There's a short exposition on Succubi at the beginning of the book if you're interested."

Harry was indeed interested and would be reading the book cover to cover as soon as he got the chance, but first he had his own gift to give.

"I've got something for you as well." He told Luna and went for his own trunk.

"He's so cute!" Luna squeed, looking at the hamster that Harry had just handed her.

"He's more than just cute," Harry said sternly, putting herculean effort into keeping a grin off his face. "this is Boo and he's a miniature giant space hamster."

"Really?" Luna asked in awe.

"Really." Harry confirmed. "He will smite evil and gouge out its eyeballs whenever he sees it."

Perhaps playing on Luna's eccentricies was a bit mean, but he hadn't been able to resist. The mental imagery had simply been too hilarious and the girl certainly seemed to be happy with her new pet. Hamsters and rangers everywhere were surely rejoicing.

XXXXX

The return to Hogwarts was a bit distracting to Harry. The thestrals were touched by Dark. He hadn't expected that, though perhaps he should have. The realization distracted him thorougly and made him poor company on the ride back as he considered the implications.

Was that state natural or had some overly curious wizard wanted to see what would happen if he infused a winged horse with Dark? He was going to need to investigate that eventually.

So preoccupied was he that he barely noticed the speculative looks several people gave his eyes, wondering if their memory was playing tricks on them or if they had always been that bright.

His thoughts were still on the thestrals when he felt yet another presence of Dark, this time as Dumbledore rose from the staff table to make a speech.

"I have at long last been able to prevail upon Minister Fudge to recall the dementors back to Azkaban, as it seems clear that Sirius Black has no intention of coming to Hogwarts." The old wizard was saying.

Harry registered the words, but only barely. He'd noted the absence of dementors on their approach to the school, so that answered that little mystery, but most of his focus was on the wand he could sense in Dumbledore's sleeve.

It radiated Dark, just like his invisibility cloak. It was the only wand in the Great Hall that did so. The phoenix feather wands were like a tiny spark of sunlight to his senses, well suited to explosive bursts of magic. The unicorn hair wands felt like a gentle stream of moonlight and were probably better off used for calmer magics. The dragon heartstring ones strangely did not give off a feeling of fire as he had expected, but of a more robust and enduring strength.

Dumbledore's wand though....it could only be the Elder Wand. Sirius had been disparaging of the tale of the brothers Peverell, and Harry had to agree that them meeting an anthropomorphic manifestation of Death and getting it to give them super powerful magical doodads for no easily explicable reason was unlikely, but he had been willing to give the story the benefit of the doubt in some measure. He may not be prepared to believe that Death was a person, but he was more than ready to believe that the three brothers had dabbled with Dark and learned how to use it to enchant certain items.

Now that he'd lain eyes on the wand, that belief was all but confirmed. He had to wonder where the Resurrection Stone was.

XXXXX

As soon as he was alone in his room, Harry cracked open the book Luna had given him and started reading.

Sex magic is something that has long been thought of as the domain of certain non-human magical beings. Given the recent thrust by the Veela Covenant to be recognized as equals under wizard law, I decided to research it myself and publish my findings so that we may better understand the Veela and their magics.

The decision of the European Ministries of Magic to classify all sex magic as a Dark Art the previous year and prohibit its use has put an end to this intention, but I will still finish this book if only for my own purposes.

The first mention of sex magic dates back to Ancient Sumeria and the sorceress that would later become most widely known as Lilith, the Queen of the Succubi.

Little is known of Lilith's origins, but it is known that she was born human. Her transformation into a Succubus has long been an unanswered mystery and will likely remain so. The other thing that is known of Lilith is her mastery of sex magic.

After her transformation, Lilith spent a millenium ensnaring the minds of wizards and witches alike and consuming their magic to sustain her life and power. For this reason, she eventually became revered as a fertility goddess and feared as a voracious demon.

This was a time long before wands and magic schools, meaning that trained magic users were few and far between and none of them very powerful. Lilith's Succubus transformation had among other things granted her immense control over fire and her ability to enthrall the minds of near any magical being made her unassailable by magical means. She was eventually slain by the hand of the muggle Hero-King Gilgamesh, who was immune to Lilith's enthrallment ability due to his lack of magic.

But Lilith had spawned a legion of Succubi daughters during her long life and they continued to prey on wizardkind, learning from the death of their mother and adopting a more subtle approach by targeting mostly those who were young, untrained, easily seduced or otherwise vulnerable.

Though popular muggle folklore portrays the Succubi as horned and bat winged demons, they were in fact indistinguishable from human women, save for their beauty, allure, intrinsic control of fire and the ability to partially transform into a hybrid bird creature at need. This made it easy for them to hide amongst human populations if they were careful and fed on the unwary or ignorant.

Their fortunes turned with the establishment of Hogwarts and similar magic schools later on. With fewer and fewer victims going untrained and unguarded, they were forced to go after more risky prey. The increased danger and lack of sustenance took a great toll on their numbers.

Unlike their mother, Lilith's daughters were unable to breed more Succubi and the last was eventually killed in 1637.

One among their number, the Succubus Velana, did however learn to spawn more children that were not Succubi. These came to be called Veela. They are possessed of similar powers as the Succubi, but much weaker. However, Veela also do not need to prey on magicals for survival and have been able able to endure despite the stigma of their origins.

After centuries of being hunted, Veela have now successfully won their acceptance in the majority of Europe, though their innate ability to use sex magic has been classified as a Dark Art in a rather transparent attempt to limit their influence.

Harry kept on reading long after he would have usually gone to bed, completely absorbed in the book. Much of the writing done by Luna's ancestor was theory and speculation, in no small part due to the fact that sex magic could not be done with a wand.

Which was exactly why Harry found it so fascinating in the first place, even beyond the subject matter.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning when something occured to him.

"How the hells did Luna know that I wouldn't give a shit about the Ministry prohibition, or that I would like the wandless aspect?" He wondered, baffled. "Did she know, or was it just a coincidence?"

He pondered the vagaries of his friend for another half hour before metaphorically tossing his hands into the air in frustration and going to bed.

XXXXX

Harry sighed in his Charms class.

They were currently going over the Freezing spell, which Harry had known for some time. Even if he hadn't known it, he could have gotten the hang of it within minutes. Even watching the energy flow with his newly acquired magesight had gotten old already.

Flitwick was a good teacher, but Harry was bored out of his skull in his classes these days. Now that he could see magic as well as feel it, it seemed like he had an easier time mastering wandlessly what his classmates struggled to master with a wand.

XXXXX

Transfiguration was an interesting subject that was quickly becoming as dull as Charms.

While doing it wandlessly had always been a problem, doing it with a wand was simple enough, even if a dragon heartstring wand would have been better suited for the task.

Now that he could observe the process happenning, he was starting to figure out the nuances that would let him do it without a wand.

This had the unfortunate side-effect of making the class itself mostly superfluous. He spent almost the entire time ignoring McGonagall and doing his own thing.

XXXXX

"Potter, stop staring at your cauldron and start brewing!" Snape shouted.

Harry jerked in surprise, having gotten caught up in watching the magic of the ingredients interacting in his cauldron.

"Sorry, sir." He apologized and went to complete the potion.

Half an hour later, he was once again staring at his unfinished potion in fascination, wondering at the strange swirls and eddies that his stirring was making in it. He had no idea what any of it meant, but it was mesmerizing. All that 'stir clockwise six times and counter clockwise four times' crap was finally making some sense.

"POTTER!"

XXXXX

"Harry, please stay after class."

Harry raised an eyebrow. Looks like Lupin was finally done waffling. His indecisive shuffling had been getting beyond obvious in the lead up to the Christmas holidays.

When they were alone, Harry decided to ask the obvious question.

"Was there something you wanted, Professor?"

"Harry, the Headmaster tells me that you are aware of my relationship with your parents." Lupin stated after taking a bracingly deep breath.

"Yes."

Cue uncomfortable silence.

"I'm going to be late for Herbology." Not that he cared too much about that particular class, but standing here and waiting for the werewolf to get to the point was pretty tedious.

"I was wondering if you'd like to hear a few stories about them sometime." Lupin offered hopefully.

"Not really, I think I've got a general idea of the kind of people they were." It wasn't likely that he had anything new to add to what he'd already learned from Sirius, Charlus and Dorea.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Lupin suddenly said.

"What for?" Harry asked, puzzled.

"For never checking up on you, for not getting in touch when you started Hogwarts."

"Whatever your relationship with my parents, you don't and didn't owe me anything." Harry pointed out.

Remus winced at the even response. Perhaps he hadn't owed James, Lily or Harry anything, but it was a poor friend that didn't check up on the orphaned son of his friends.

"I still should have checked up on you. I couldn't take you in because of a medical condition I have, but I should have checked up on you."

"I did well enough without you." Harry replied, not deigning to inquire about the oblique reference to lycanthropy.

Remus winced again. That was another way of saying that he'd do well enough without him from here on out as well. Harry was being decidedly lukewarm about getting to know him, and Remus couldn't blame him. He wasn't upset about the absence, but he wasn't eager to get to know him either. It would've been easier if Harry was angry at him. That at least would have been clear.

"I'm going to need a note for Professor Sprout." Harry prompted.

Remus wrote him a note and spent the next twenty minutes brooding over past regrets. He'd really dropped the quaffle with Harry and there wasn't much he could do about it now.

XXXXX

Aside from Potions, the only class that had actually become more interesting since his little Christmas adventure was Astronomy.

He still thought that the telescopes could do with replacing. The enchantments on them made them substantially more powerful than they should be, but that just meant that the newer models would be even better.

That being said, it was hard not to develop an appreciation for the night sky when he could practically feel the stars singing in his magic.

"Have you got it, Harry?" Professor Sinistra asked, nudging him over so that she could take a look herself.

"Almost." He replied and let her do it, taking a private enjoyment at the feel of her breasts brushing against his back when she leaned over him.

And that was the other reason why he liked Astronomy. He was terribly tempted to flirt with the beautiful dark skinned Professor sometimes. He didn't, because that could turn out very problematic, but he was seriously tempted.

How ironic. Ginny had asked him earlier in the year whether he liked older women and he'd said yes mostly to get her off his back, but now it was turning out to be true. Women thirty-plus years in age did more for him than girls in their teens.

Sinistra was thirty-three. Vector was forty. Both of them were hot. He couldn't show even a hint of his attraction without making things very, very awkward. He didn't even know if they were in a relationship. Sometimes, life was just plain unfair.

Harry vowed to himself that he would try to sleep with at least one of them before he left Hogwarts.

XXXXX

Back at Potter Manor.

Sirius put down the glass of firewhiskey that he'd been about to drink and put a hand to his chest, wondering about the fierce burst of pride he'd just felt for his godson.

XXXXX

Harry returned to his room in a state of mild sexual frustration, which was pretty much normal for these late night Astronomy classes.

To the sight of Bryanna lounging on his bed, wearing what appeared to be a set of chocolate underwear, obviously enchanted to behave as it if were fabric.

"Hey lover."

Life might be unfair sometimes, but it could also be very good at other times. He'd been wanting to give some of the stuff he'd read in Luna's book a try for a while now, but he had needed a partner to do so. Luna's great-great grandmother had postulated a lot of theories, but only practice would determine whether they held any weight.

"I thought you could use a snack before bed."

Lots and lots of practice.

"I am feeling rather peckish." Harry admitted, quickly divesting himself of his clothes and firing a contraceptive charm at his midnight visitor.

Bryanna rolled her eyes t his paranoia. He still didn't trust the potion to do the job.

Harry paid her exasperation no mind as he climbed on the bed, zeroing in on her chocolate covered nipples.

Harry had no real idea how to implement the techniques described in the book, but he figured that he couldn't go far wrong if he started out by licking the chocolate off her breasts. He had magesight now, so enough experimentation was sure to yield results.

XXXXX

Bryanna let out a shuddering gasp as she rode Harry to her third orgasm, coincidentally triggering his fourth. She had no idea what he was doing, but his member felt even better in her than that vibration spell that Tiana had taught her at the end of last year.

Harry smirked to himself as Bryanna collapsed on top of him and nuzzled his neck, taking deep breaths all the while. Being able to see her magic reacting to his efforts was proving inordinately useful in figuring out how to please her. The book was written from the perspective of a woman, but it hadn't been too hard to adapt the knowledge.

"Mmm, what have you been doing over the holidays?" Bryanna nearly purred out, feeling deliciously satisfied. Harry had definitely been improving.

"Oh, this and that." He replied mysteriously, rubbing circles on her lower back and seeing if he could magically stimulate the nerves that were supposed to be there.

"Well keep at it." She instructed, mashing her chest into his and already feeling a slow heat returning to her groin despite her recent orgasm. The fact that she still had him sheathed inside her and was leaking a slow trickle of sperm from her opening was only making it better.

"Yes ma'am." Harry chuckled, slowly refining his technique based on the feedback feel he was getting from her own magic.

They stayed that way for a while, content to take a short break and let the desire build before they jumped back into the sex.

"What do you think about having a meeting with all four of us girls soon?" Bryanna asked out of the blue, raising her head to look him in the eye.

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You mean...." He finished by pressing her down more firmly on his once again erect member.

Bryanna laughed lightly, realizing what she'd just implied. "You wish, Potter. No, that's not what I meant."

"Pity." He grinned. He could already imagine how jealous Sirius would be.

"Isabel drafted up a contract and we'd like you to take a look at it." She elaborated

"Sure." He agreed, starting to press kisses to her neck. "But I'm not interested in contracts right now."

"What are you interested then?" She asked huskily.

His hands went to cup her rear end and then he quickly spun them around so that he was the one on top.

"Oh, I could think of a thing or two." He said and kissed her, thrusting his hips forward in the same movement and delighting in her grunt of pleasure.

XXXXX

Harry wasn't sure if he liked Isabel and Jade.

They weren't rude or anything of the sort, but he was getting the distinct impression that they held a mild resentment for him because he was sleeping with their friends.

Harry could appreciate what the situation looked like from an outside perspective, but he was also quite sure that Bryanna and Tiana didn't find keeping him company at night to be distasteful. Tiana's unsubtle complaint earlier that he was neglecting her was a good indicator of that, as was Bryanna's shameless abuse of their shared House status to get more solo nights with him.

Either they were enjoying the situation as much as him or else they should abandon the clothes store idea and go to Hollywood.

Isabel came off as being rather starchy in addition to the slight social awkwardness that seemed normal for Ravenclaws. She'd presented him with the contract with the kind of stiff backed poise he'd expect from McGonagall. She obviously wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

The Gryffindor of the group was a somewhat different matter. She looked like she was just waiting for an excuse to get mad at him.

Harry couldn't be 100% sure, but he thought that they were both magically weaker than Bryanna and Tiana. He had no hard evidence to support this as his magesight and magic sensing only told him whether something was magical or not and didn't quantify it, but a gut feeling told him that Isabel and Jade were simply weaker people.

This same gut feeling had been giving him impressions of the people around him ever since his return to Hogwarts.

It told him that Luna was a generally flighty person who drifted through life without much concern, but there was something broken in her that paradoxically made her stronger than she seemed.

Ginny; an insecure little girl wrapped up in a mixture of sulky resentment and longing. That's what she felt like around him at any rate. He didn't know if there was more to her or not.

Malfoy; a front of arrogance shoring up a brittle core, not nearly as strong as he liked to portray himself as. He felt as if he would shatter if the illusion of superiority was taken from him.

Lupin; the inner wildness of his wolf wrapped in walls of fear and self-loathing. There was steel in him, but it seemed to be turned inward, as if he was most afraid of himself.

Snape; bitter and hateful with a core of guilt and self-loathing even stronger than Lupin. There was a fatalistic sense of determination too, as if he was dead set on finishing something and cared little for the aftermath.

These were all just vague impressions that only got marginally clearer the more time he spent around the people in question. It was also clearer with some people than others. Harry suspected that it was clearer with the more powerful wizards and witches.

Dumbledore was for example a pillar of calm over a deep well of grief and regret. There was an unshakable determination in him to accomplish something, at any cost. It made feel very dangerous.

By contrast, people like Isabel Morris and Jade Dawson were much less noticeable. Their souls did not shine as bright and would have faded into the background if there were more people present. As it was, Bryanna and Tiana nearly eclipsed them. His pretty bedwarmers were far more self-assured than their friends, more driven and just....more.

Harry couldn't quite help himself from labeling people like them as NPCs.

But he wasn't here to woolgather, he was here to inspect the contract.

"I'm sorry, but I can't sign this." He finally said, not needing to watch to know that all four girls had tensed.

"You said you would!" Jade snapped peevishly.

Tiana kicked her in the shin, muttering something about Gryffindors all the while.

"Is there something wrong with it?" She asked lightly.

"Yes." He responded bluntly. "Its way too simplistic."

"It covers the terms that we agreed on." Bryanna pointed out.

And hadn't that been a bitch to explain to Isabel and Jade. They hadn't been too pleased at the fact that they would be minority owners in the future no matter what, as the original plan had been for equal shares. They were especially displeased that Harry had decided this based on the fact that they hadn't participated in the seduction plan.

Bryanna and Tiana were secretly pleased about reaping greater rewards for the gamble they took, not to mention that Harry had become very enjoyable night time company lately.

"Which was talked over a period of about five to ten minutes." Harry pointed out. "This contract works well enough if you aren't planning to turn a profit. The use of the Potter family name will protect your business from being shut down by a made up reason by some uppity pureblood, but it does nothing to protect you from anyone that might want to muscle in on it for themselves later on. At the very least I want a clause included that forbids any of you from selling your share to anyone except me."

"What business is it of yours who we would sell it to?" Jade demanded, earning herself another kick from Tiana.

"I suspect that the Potter family lost its vineyards and pottery business to the Parkinsons exactly because of something like this." Harry retorted. "Trusted managers given emergency authorization because the owner was unreachable or dead, then in comes Lord Parkinson making veiled threats of what might happen to those same managers and their families if they don't sell. I still need to investigate if that's what really happened, but after what I've learned from Bryanna and Tiana and my own research it seems like a likely scenario. The point being that if you can't sell to anyone except me, then that means that you can't be threatened, bribed or blackmailed into it either."

Jade and Isabel paled at that, obviously having never considered it. Even Bryanna and Tiana were a bit perturbed.

"Wouldn't that make you a target then?" Isabel ventured.

"I'd be Lord Potter by then." Harry replied with a self-deprecating grin. "I checked the laws. I can legally kill people for stuff like that, among other things."

"And we can't." Tiana stated with a small sneer, getting another clue as to how exactly it was possible for the purebloods to keep a deathgrip on the economy. She'd missed that nugget of information in her earlier research.

"Nope, only Lords can issue honor duels." Harry confirmed wryly. Not that it was done much anymore as that was a rather extreme course of action, but there were non-violent alternatives. That was no doubt the main reason that the Noble Houses generally stayed out of each other's business.

"Alright, we definitely need to add that." Bryanna stated firmly.

"We probably need to add a lot of other things." He said. "I'm not a lawyer and there's probably a thousand other loopholes that I'm not seeing. I'd suggest that we meet over the summer and get a professional opinion on this, both muggle and magical."

"Why muggle?" Tiana asked curiously. "We're not really planning to have too much contact with the Muggle World. As soon as we get good enough at making our own clothes, we might cut contact with them entirely aside from buying some materials."

"Because my dear, while the muggle side of business might not have any of this Noble garbage involved – or perhaps because of it –, it is ten times as cutthroat. "

XXXXX

Harry grinned as he tossed a compact fireball at the target that the Room of Requirement provided for him.

Moving on to the next thing, he carefully began crafting a blasting curse between his hands, infusing the raw magical energy with his intent, all the while keeping it controlled. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled it at another target, demolishing that one as well.

He moved on to other spells after that. Stunners, disarming hexes, various transfigurations and more.

Now that he could clearly see and sense what was going on, wandless magic was no longer such an impenetrable mystery. It was slow, far too slow for combat purposes at this point, but also far more controlled than anything he could do with a wand and no less powerful.

Wands allowed a wizard to skip the difficult process of learning to manipulate magic with their minds alone. Some wands were better suited to certain things than others, but they could all be used for more or less everything. The interaction between core, wood and whatever else a wandcrafter did made sure of this.

Truly, whoever had figured out modern wands had been a genius with few equals, but in allowing magic users to skip the journey, so much had been lost.

For example, Modern wizards and witches used the Tempus charm to find out what time it was, but they never once considered what was involved with such a spell.

If Harry wanted to cast that particular spell wandlessly, he had to take into account the position of the Sun in the sky, the Earth's axial tilt, the form that he wanted the information to take and several other things. It took him half an hour to craft the spell and his results were very far from accurate.

With a wand, you just had to give it a little wave and something in the stick and the movements allowed you to bypass all the nuances and skip right ahead to the results. It was rather disturbing how sophisticated wands actually were, but he supposed that they would be after two thousand years of refinement.

The problem was that they had made wizardkind lazy. Obscenely so. Wands had sucked all the wonder and mystery out of magic by reducing it to a bunch of swishing and flicking. It was no wonder that modern day wizards were so unimpressive when they didn't really have to exert any kind of real thought to cast spells. Oh sure, you needed a certain level of focus to use magic with a wand(though even that was drastically reduced through the use of wand motions), but it was not even close to the mental dexterity required to weave a spell with only one's mind and will.

Harry moved on to the Patronus. It took him fifteen minutes to shape the spell and work his desire to protect into it, but he could change the size of his raven at will, increase its power to blinding luminance or reduce it to formless mist.

So what if it took an age to cast right now? With enough practice, the mental process would eventually become so familiar that he would be able to do it in an instant.

A quick check of the time told him that he was going to be late for his Charms class. Again.

With an aggravated sigh, Harry restarted the process of forming his Patronus. Charms class was a waste of time anyway.

XXXXX

"Has anyone noticed anything....strange about Mr. Potter's behavior lately?" Minerva asked.

"He's sometimes taken to staring at his cauldron like a confounded troll ever since Christmas." Snape replied with dry derision.

"Severus!" She said sharply, but the Potions Master was undaunted by her warning.

"While I wouldn't phrase it in the way that Severus did, he has been acting a bit erratic." Flitwick added. "His practical work is as good as ever, but his written work of late has been subpar to say the least. His homework has the feel of being rushed to completion without care for the quality."

"It is the same with me." The Transfiguration teacher said with her brow furrowed in thought.

"Me too." Remus added quietly.

"He actually turns in passable essays to me." Snape admitted grudgingly. The quality of Potter's potions had also been steadily increasing, but he wasn't going to admit that unless he absolutely had to.

"He is diligent enough with me as well, though obviously not interested." Sprout chimed in.

"Still, this is a worrying trend." Minerva continued. "And the sudden drop in his work quality isn't even the worst of it, he actually skipped one of my classes the other day and then refused to come to the detention I assigned him!"

"Err, Minerva." Flitwick said with an embarrassed cough. "He's skipped three of mine already."

"And you just let him do it?" She asked, mildly scandalized. No wonder he'd refused to come to detention if his Head of House was letting him get away with it.

"I talked to him about it and he admitted to being bored stiff in my classroom." The half-goblin Professor admitted. "He was easily able to demonstrate mastery of what we covered in those classes, to a degree that made it obvious that he'd known the spells for some time already. The curriculum is simply moving too slowly for him. I suspect that might also be the reason for his poorly done homework, he probably doesn't want to waste time on things that he already knows."

That had the deputy Headmistress looking thoughtful. She still didn't appreciate the boy outright ignoring the punishment she'd set for him, but this shed some light on his behavior.

"Surely you cannot be thinking of allowing the brat to skip a year or, Merlin forbid, allowing him free reign to decide which classes to attend?" Snape questioned, his opinion on the matter clear.

"Well there is hardly any point in forcing him to attend lessons that he has no use for." She retorted huffily.

"What do you think, Albus? You've been awfully quiet." Flitwick asked.

Dumbledore had indeed been quiet, listening to the conversation and turning things over in his mind.

"Professors Vector and Babbling tell me that they believe that Harry may be able to take his OWLs for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes over the summer if he continues to progress at the current pace." He said.

"That's quite impressive, I had no idea he was so far along." Flitwick said, ignoring the soft snort from Snape.

"Indeed, Septima and Bathsheda have nothing but praise for the boy." Dumbledore chuckled. "I think that they enjoy having a student take such interest in their subjects, which are often considered to be quite onerous."

"So what is to be done about Potter?" Minerva pressed.

"I will talk to him first and then determine what to do." Dumbledore decided.

XXXXX

Ever since his last ritual, Harry found that he could no longer sleep through sunrise or sunset. The change in his magic as the sun rose and set would always wake him.

Because of this, he often made his way to the top of the Astronomy Tower to watch as it happened. At the very least on the days when it wasn't cloudy.

These trips had also been an opportunity to spend some time just thinking, mostly about the fact that he had killed someone. He'd turned the event over in his mind countless times, but he simply could not bring himself to feel particularly bad about the killing itself. Wormtail had been a loathsome human being, a coward, traitor, murderer and who knows what else. His death would go unmourned by those who knew the truth and only the fact that it made things more difficult for Sirius made it regrettable.

Eventually he'd simply gotten fed up of attempting to dredge up some kind guilt or horror at the act. He just didn't feel it and apparently wouldn't no matter that society didn't approve of killers.

Remarkably, the cracks in his soul seemed to heal a bit once he stopped wrestling with himself over it.

"Back again, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as he walked up to stand beside the tall but young teenager.

He hadn't been able to divine the reason for Harry's quick growth, but he was by now certain that it wasn't natural. It didn't seem to be affecting him aside from that though, so he let it go despite his curiousity. The answer may yet come to him later.

"It's a nice morning." Harry replied noncommittally, having sensed the old wizard's approach. "It'll be a beautiful sunrise."

"You have been coming up here frequently of late." Dumbledore commented. "May I ask what prompted this sudden fascination with the Sun?"

Harry's lips twitched into a small smile. Anyone would be fascinated by the Sun if they knew what he knew and owed their continued existence to the ball of fiery gas.

"There is something special about seeing the world bathed in Light." He said instead, leaving out the fact that if forced to choose, he would have to say that he preferred the Dark and the stars.

"There is indeed," Dumbledore agreed. "but I had not thought that a boy your age would be able to appreciate it."

"You might be surprised by the things I can appreciate." Harry retorted, mildly irritated by the mention of his age. He'd once felt thirteen despite the size of his body, but he didn't anymore. Too much had happened for him to stay a child.

"Such as the lovely female company you keep?" Dumbledore chuckled.

"Hm, I guess it was too much to hope for that the rumor mill wouldn't catch wind of that." Harry grumbled.

"Alas, the Hogwarts rumor mill rarely fails to spread about uncomfortable secrets."

They lapsed into silence as dawn approached, an unspoken agreement passing between them to watch the sunrise in silence.

They had a surprise late arrival in the form of the Headmaster's phoenix, who arrived on Dumbledore's shoulder in a burst of flame just a minute before the event.

"Have you come to watch the sunrise as well, Fawkes?" Dumbledore asked with a smile, reaching up to ruffle the firebird's chest feathers.

Fawkes trilled in agreement, shooting a look towards Harry that he would swear was distrustful.

Harry felt a shiver of discomfort go through him, but ignored it. The phoenix was a creature of Light, so it was only natural for its song to be mildly unpleasant to him now that he was full of Dark.

The small discomfort passed as the Sun rose over the eastern mountains and pushed back the Dark. Harry was always slightly sad to see it happen. The Sun's overpowering presence was simply not as beautiful as the multitude of distant stars.

Fawkes trilled curiously, hopping from Dumbledore's shoulder over to Harry's and poking his beak in the younger wizard's temple. Right into the hidden Sol rune in fact.

"Oi, cut that out." Harry protested, gently pushing the firebird's head away.

"He seems to like you." Dumbledore chuckled. "Or perhaps is confused by you."

Harry figured that the phoenix must have sensed it as the magic present in his soul shifted from Dark to Light. Being strongly aligned with Light, the phoenix was probably naturally sensitive to things like that in ways that wizards generally weren't.

Fawkes continued to make a pest of himself for the next few minutes, much to Dumbledore's amusement. He'd never seen his phoenix act like this around anyone before, but he took heart in it. Phoenixes were generally attracted to good people when they deigned to interact with them at all, so this boded well for the future.

"What do you want?" Harry finally asked in exasperation.

Fawkes trilled a beautiful song that resonated in his magic wonderfully, but was was ultimately unhelpful in figuring out what the ostentatious feather duster wanted.

"What, do you want to praise the Sun in jolly cooperation?" Harry asked sarcastically, starting to get annoyed by Dumbledore's chortling.

Fawkes trilled happily.

"Was that a yes?" Harry asked with some incredulity.

Fawkes repeated the same trill.

"O...kay." Harry said dubiously, feeling entirely ridiculous but willing to try it if it would get the feathered menace to stop poking its beak into his head.

I can't believe that I'm doing this. He thought to himself. And with an audience no less.

Staunchly ignoring the embarrassed blush creeping up his face at what he was doing, Harry put his feet together, extended his arms as far as they would go and raised them into the air, as if to embrace the sunlight.

This robbed Fawkes of his shoulder perch of course, but the phoenix solved that problem by jumping on his head and raising his wings in a mimicry of Harry's arms, releasing a song full of nostalgic joy as he did so.

"Happy now?" Harry asked, unable to quite muster any irritation because of the sheer feeling that the phoenix had pakced into the song.

Fawkes trilled in the manner that Harry was starting to associate with agreement and flamed away.

"What was that?" Dumbledore asked, intensely curious. "I have never seen Fawkes act so strangely before."

"I think.....I think that he might have missed the days when the Sun was worshipped as a deity." Harry said slowly, mostly guessing but it felt right. Obviously, the rituals from those days weren't likely to bear much resemblance to something that he'd taken out of a video game, but the core purpose was the same and that was all that Fawkes seemed to have cared about.

"I suppose that is possible." Dumbledore mused. "The phoenix was revered as a representative of the Sun in many ancient cultures."

"Anyway, did you have some reason for coming up here this early in the morning on a weekend, sir?" Harry asked, wanting to move past this little situation before the old wizard stopped asking 'what?' and started on'why?'.

"Ah yes, I had nearly forgotten in all the excitement. I was supposed to discuss your education."

"What about my education?" Harry asked warily.

"It has come to our, that being the Professors, attention that you are not feeling sufficiently challenged in some of your classes."

"I was always good at Charms and Transfiguration." Harry said with a nonchalant shrug.

"And the others?" Dumbledore prompted.

"We're mostly doing creatures in defense, so I do still learn new things there, but I would probably be quite far ahead if we were doing spells. I'm not really interested in Herbology, so I'm just slogging through that."

Dumbledore blinked in slight surprise. "How refreshingly honest of you to say so, Harry."

"I've recently discovered a newfound interest in Potions, but I'm no further ahead than anyone else." Nor was it likely to happen any time soon. The kind of experimenting he wanted to try with potions wasn't really something that he could do right now, as it would be very time consuming.

"It's much the same with Astronomy and you already know that I'm taking private lessons in Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Yes, I have heard from Professors Vector and Babbling that you are doing quite well in your electives. So well in fact that they feel you would be able to take your OWLs in those subjects during the summer if you continue to apply yourself as you have."

"Couldn't I take Charms, Transfiguration and maybe Defense too while I'm at it?" Harry asked. He'd already spoken to Vector and Babbling about the possibility.

"I am afraid that the Ministry does not offer early OWLs for core classes." Dumbledore answered.

"Why not?"

"As you may know, getting an OWL in one's core classes represents the minimum required education as decreed by the Ministry of Magic. They ceased offering early OWLs for those classes after an incident some three hundred years ago when a magical prodigy managed to get all of the required OWLs in the summer after her second year and decided to leave Hogwarts to advance her studies further on her own."

"Why was that a problem?"

"Normally it wouldn't be, but you must recall that this was a thirteen-year old girl. She was not the most cautious of people and caused a severe breach in the Statue of Secrecy after an altercation with a belligerent muggle teenager. Incidentally, that was also how the Reasonable Restriction on Underage Sorcery came about."

"Lovely." Harry said dryly. "Was that all?"

"Ah, no. Forgive an old man's digressing, but I actually came to talk to you in order to assess if it would prudent to offer you the opportunity to audit higher year Charms and Transfiguration classes at your own discretion."

Dumbledore would have once hesitated to offer the boy such a thing, but it was obvious by now that Harry was not going to be making friends in his own year. He was cordial with most of them, but not in any way close. Better to use the opportunity to build goodwill with the boy than to hold him back in the vain hope that he would somehow befriend people that he had not for the past two and a half years.

"I'm assuming that this is being offered since you mentioned it?"

"Indeed. If you choose to accept, then Professors Flitwick and McGonagall will periodically test you to make sure that you are keeping up with your studies, but you will otherwise be left alone to study the material on your own."

"I'd like that." Harry said.

"Very well then, I wish you the best of luck." Dumbledore nodded. "But one final bit of advice if I may. Do not get so consumed in your studies that you forget to have fun."

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that." Harry replied with a small smirk.

"I am glad to hear it." Dumbledore said with an amused smile of his own and left the Astronomy Tower.

Harry stared after the old wizard, wondering what exactly he was playing at. Either there was no actual plot or it was a seriously subtle one.

XXXXX

Harry winked at Bryanna and Tiana, taking vast amounts of amusement at their wide-eyed stares.

"Mr. Potter, I know that the Headmaster has given you leave to audit any Transfiguration class you wish, but do you not think that a seventh year class is a bit too advanced for you?" McGonagall asked disapprovingly. In truth, she was thinking that he had picked this particular class for the sole purpose of dropping in on his......girlfriends, or whatever they were.

"I'm just trying to get a feel for where exactly I am in terms of ability, Professor." Harry answered calmly.

"Very well." McGonagall conceded grudgingly. "But I do not want you attempting to cast the spells you will see here. Human transfiguration can be dangerous if done improperly and is not something that should be attempted lightly."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Professor." Harry semi-lied. He certainly wouldn't attempt it lightly, but he would eventually attempt it if he felt that he could do it.

McGonagall was somewhat reassured about his seriousness when he did not attempt to communicate with Ms. Torres or Ms. Day in any fashion, but instead kept his eyes fixed firmly on her and listened attentively. His focus was almost unnerving in its intensity in fact, but better that than to have him treating one of the most difficult branches of Transfiguration carelessly.

Harry spent the entire lesson studying how the energy flowed as the other students transfigured each other into various things. He could see why it was considered difficult, as the caster also had to take the magic of his target into account in addition to their own.

This would probably be useful when he and Sirius got started on the animagus transformation.

XXXXX

The rest of the school year proceeded without any overt excitement from then on. Harry kept up a sporadic attendance of Charms and Transfiguration classes, in an order that nobody could really make sense of, but Flitwick and McGonagall couldn't deny that he was well ahead of where he should be so they couldn't protest much.

Lupin kept up a strange balance between wanting to approach him again and staying away, drowning in self-pity all the while. Harry was honestly not seeing much of the clever werewolf that Sirius sometimes talked about in his letters. Professor Lupin had more in common with an old man waiting to die. It might have helped him to know that Sirius was not a traitor, but blurting out that kind of dangerous secret to make someone feel better was just stupid.

Snape continued to be as unpleasant as possible because of what he saw as the Potter spawn getting special treatment, but his odium had become something of an unremarkable backdrop to Potions by now and failed to really get much of a reaction out of Harry. He took points constantly, he made rants occasionally and he glared ceaselessly, but Harry simply didn't care enough about Snape's personal opinion of him to take it to heart. He had what he wanted and the Potion Master's hissy fits meant exactly bugger-all.

Unbeknownst to Harry, this passive disregard and failure to rise up to the provocation was wearing Snape out. He couldn't really escalate any further in a school setting and there was only so long that you could rail at someone who didn't care before you ran out of steam.

On the more friendly teacher front, Vector and Babbling had decided to double the number of lessons per week they had with him, apparently determined to have him pass the Arithmancy and Ancient Runes OWLs over the summer with a solid O.

Harry could only be thankful that Bryanna and Tiana seemed more than happy to help him out with the tension that the increased amount of time spent with the beautiful Arithmancy teacher was causing him, even if it did nothing for the numerous detention fantasies he was accumulating.

XXXXX

Last weekend before the end of the school year.

"You know, I think I'm actually going to miss these little get-togethers of ours." Tiana said musingly, stretching out in the decadently luxurious bathtub that the Room of Requirement had provided.

"Not as much as me." Harry said mournfully from beside her. "Who's going to keep me company at night when you two graduate?"

"I'm sure you'll find some other girl to seduce." Bryanna snorted from his other side. "Maybe you can even invite Rosmerta or Professor Vector into your bed."

"I should never have told you that I have a thing for older women." Harry sighed with a smile.

"I'm still offended by that by the way." Tiana chimed in teasingly. "You have two sexy teens in bed with you and you fantasize about old women."

"They're not old, just older." Harry protested. "And do you want me to kiss it and make it better again?"

"Merlin's balls, no." She groaned. "I think my clitoris might revolt if you went anywhere near it again."

Harry said nothing in response, merely smirked with supreme smugness. Nothing like bringing a girl to several screaming orgasms with magically enhanced cunnilingus to boost one's ego. That book of Luna's might be just about the most awesome gift he'd ever received.

"Would you look at that smug look on his face?" Bryanna commented. "He learns how to properly lick pussy and suddenly he thinks he's the king of the world."

Harry reached over and gave her nipple a pinch, enjoying her squeak.

"So, when are we going to meet up during the summer?" Tiana asked a few minutes later.

"I'll contact you when I know." Harry replied. "I'm going to have a lot to do during the summer and setting up meetings with a couple of lawyers is the least of it."

"What else will you be doing?" Bryanna asked curiously.

"I've got to take my Arithmancy and Ancient Runes OWLs at the Ministry, track down the old managers of my family's business and talk to them about why exactly that business now belongs to the Parkinsons and a few other things."

Things like getting Sirius to teach him how to become an animagus and getting him acquitted.

"What about yout muggle girlfriend?" Bryanna teased. He'd told them about Zoe one day when they asked who'd popped his cherry, because it obviously hadn't been them.

"She's not my girlfriend, she's a friend with benefits." Harry said with dignity. "A lot like you two actually."

"You really should get a muggle girlfriend." Tiana suggested with a smirk. "I can already see the outraged headlines in the Prophet, 'Boy-Who-Lived dates a muggle! How far has our saviour fallen?'."

"Amusing as that would be, I'm not going to get a muggle girlfriend just to spite Wizarding Britain's elite." Harry snorted. "Besides, I doubt they'd be that obvious about their prejudice. The headline would probably be something like 'Boy-Who-Lived dates a muggle! Are Britain's witches not good enough for him?'."

"They just need to set you up with a nice middle aged witch and that'll be that." Bryanna teased.

Harry groaned. He really shouldn't have told them about that.

"How about Molly Weasley?" The Ravenclaw girl continued.

"Don't even joke about that!" Harry retorted sharply, shuddering theatrically. "There's a very big difference between a sexy mature woman and an overbearing broodmother."

He knew that he was probably being overly harsh, especially as he'd personally met the woman for a grand total of thirty seconds, but he'd learned enough from second hand sources to steer well clear of her. Ginny's commentary and the occasional howler she sent had painted a picture of a woman who meant well, but who was also very opinionated and had not the slightest clue when to ease up. That wasn't even mentionning that she wasn't the slightest bit attractive as far as Harry was concerned.

"Well enough about Harry's fetishes." Tiana declared, ignoring his exasperated eyeroll. "Since this is our last night together, I've prepared a little something."

The other two looked at her curiously as she grabbed her wand and gave it a wave, causing three goblets and a bottle of wine to float towards them.

"Goblets for drinking wine? Really?" Harry questioned wryly as she poured him some. "This makes me feel more like Conan the Barbarian than a wizard."

"Who?" The girls asked blankly.

"Right, I forgot that you wizard-raised savages don't know anything about the classics." Harry sighed.

"At least we aren't some muggle-raised bumpkin who thinks that goblets aren't appropriate for drinking wine." Tiana retorted.

"What are we drinking to?" Bryanna asked before the conversation could devolve into a string of playful insults on the differences between a muggle or magical upbringing.

"To profitable partnerships." Tiana suggested, raising her goblet.

"To future successes." Bryanna added, bumping her own goblet against her friend's.

"And fringe benefits." Harry finished with a grin, mirroring their move.

"Cheeky little cunt." Bryanna smirked.

"That is not language fit for a Lady." Harry told her snobbily.

"Ah, but as a mere commoner, I can be as vulgar as I please. If that bothers my Lord, then he should have let himself be duped into a marriage." She retorted coquettishly, batting her eyelashes in an overdone manner.

"I can ruin my life with a serious relationship anytime, but I'm only going to be young once." He countered, grinning. He had been somewhat upset about their plan when he'd first heard of it, but they'd become friends since then and he couldn't fault their ambition or even their reasoning. Prospects for them really weren't great in Britain.

"I'll drink to that." The girls said in unison. They hadn't been enthused about the idea of marriage before hitting twenty either, seeing it only as a means to an end, so this turn of events was actually preferrable to them.

The three of them brought the goblets to their lips and took a large gulp of the wine.

"You know, judging by how fond people are of alcohol, I expected it to taste better." Harry commented, smacking his lips with a distasteful grimace.

"Maybe it's a bad vintage?" Tiana asked weakly, having not been too fond of the flavor either. "I don't know a thing about wine, so I just picked one at random."

"It's not that bad." Bryanna commented, taking another sip.

Harry exchanged a look with Tiana and shrugged. They didn't see what was so 'not bad' about it, but to each their own.

XXXXX

Harry and Luna had a compartment to themselves on the train ride back to King's Cross. Luna had tried to invite Ginny along, but the redhead wasn't as insensitive to social awkwardness as the blonde, so she had declined and gone to sit with her brothers.

Harry was thankful for that. He didn't hate Ginny, but he'd rather not be in prolonged close contact with her anymore. That constant gloom she gave off about the way he lived his life was more than a little off putting.

So the two of them had spent their time discussing what they would be doing over the summer, though Harry had to lie about quite a bit of it.

Luna had been happy to tell him all about the trip to Germany's Black Forest that she had planned with her father. Apparently there was a magical section of it that still remained hidden from muggles to this day. She'd even invited him to come along, but he had had to decline despite his interest in seeing the place. He simply had too much going on this summer to accept.

Of course, the experience wouldn't be quite complete without Draco Malfoy stopping by to visit.

"I'm surprised you don't have those two halfblood whores in here with you, Potter." The poncy Slytherin sneered.

Harry scowled at the interloper, irritated by the insult to Bryanna and Tiana more than anything else. "Get lost, Malfoy."

"What's wrong Potter? Don't like hearing what they are?" Malfoy continued, sneer firmly in place. His omnipresent goons chuckled sycophantically.

It was at this point that Harry noticed that the little shit was using the doorframe for support since the train was currently passing a fairly bumpy area of the tracks.

Carefully hiding a smirk, Harry grabbed hold of the door with his magic and slammed it closed over Malfoy's fingers.

The Slytherin howled in pain and collapsed to the ground, clutching at his smashed-but-luckily-not-broken fingers.

"You alright there, Malfoy?" Harry asked, no longer bothering to his his amusement. "That looked like it hurt."

"When my father hears about this..." Draco tried to threaten, but it come out as more of a pained sob.

"He'll do what? Have the door executed?" Harry asked sarcastically, making a reference to the hippogriff that had been killed by the Ministry at the end of the school year on Malfoy senior's initiative. Even Harry had noticed how mopey Hagrid had been after that and he didn't even have any real contact with the half-giant.

"I know you did this, Potter!" Draco screeched.

"Sure I did, Malfoy." Harry replied with a practiced deadpan. "Just like I made you trip into that suit of armor a few weeks ago, right? And without a wand in both cases too."

To be fair, that was exactly what he'd done.

Angry, frustrated and in a great deal of pain, Malfoy sulked off. He was sure that Potter was somehow the cause of all these weird accidents that kept happening to him, but the fact that the scarheaded Ravenclaw never had his wand in hand when it happened left him stumped as to how.

The whole thing was made worse by the fact that nobody believed him when he tried to explain that he sometimes felt a spell push him off balance. They just assumed that he was clumsy and trying to cover it up.

He had the same reputation for clumsyness as Longbottom now. Longbottom!

"That wasn't very nice of you, Harry." Luna commented without recrimination.

"It's not my fault that the door slid closed over his fingers." Harry defended.

"Really?" Luna asked in honest puzzlement, lifting up her hamster pet to her face. "But Boo seems so certain that it was."

"Does he now?" Harry murmured, looking at the hamster suspiciously and wondering for just a moment if he hadn't somehow stumbled across something other than a normal rodent. Or maybe extended magical exposure had altered it. "What else does he say?"

"Not much actually, but he is excited to go hunting for snorkacks."

Ah, nevermind. All was well as long as Luna was going on about snorkacks.

XXXXX

Deep in the forests of Albania, the disembodied spirit of a much feared and now thought dead Dark Lord was reduced to possessing animals, mostly snakes out of personal preference.

Had Peter Pettigrew managed to escape from his former friend and the son of those he'd betrayed, he would have eventually followed the clues he was able to glean from the rats with whom he shared a form, seeking protection from the enemies he'd made. Had this happened, Voldemort would have had a servant to help him make a play for a return to physical form.

Alas for the broken Dark Lord, Pettigrew was dead and his other followers had deserted him, even those few who had an inkling that he was not quite dead, finding that they liked it better when they didn't have to grovel before the massively powerful wizard. Political games and economic ploys might be slower and less satisfying than an eradication of mudbloods by force, but it was much safer.

Because of this notable lack of servant, the mildly brain damaged Bertha Jorkins was able to make her way out of Albania without issue and Voldemort never learned that one of his most faithful, Barty Crouch Jr., was kept imprisoned by his father's Imperious instead of in Azkaban.

Instead of that, he continued to stew in his hatred and plot ways that he might use to return.

Chapter Text

As he made his way up to the door of his foster parents' home, Harry wondered what their reaction to his current appearance was going to be.

At an even six feet now, he was impossibly tall for a not-quite-fourteen-year old. Well, impossible unless you were Dutch, which he wasn't. His growth had slowed down recently, so he figured that he might manage a few more inches at best before it stopped. He was still a bit on the gangly side of teenagerhood, but was hopeful that he would start filling out soon.

His black hair rested between his shoulder blades in a neat ponytail, even the Potter wildness defeated by gravity. Only the ends still tried to stick every which way, but for the most part ceded defeat with only mild use of cosmetic spellwork to keep it straight

Harry took a deep breath as he pushed open the door. He didn't keep too many things here anymore, having gradually moved them over to Potter Manor, so it didn't take him long to 'unpack' so to speak. After that was done, he made his way to the living room, where he figured that Robert and Katherine were currently watching the evening news. He mostly intended to just say hello and goodbye before he went back to the manor, and even that only because they expected to see him once the school year was over.

"Hey." He greeted as he entered the room.

"Welcome back." Robert said in a rather perfunctionary, even cold, manner. Harry figured that his constant absences must have started to become terribly inconvenient for them. The disapproval made his heart bleed. Not.

Katherine didn't say anything, merely walking up to him and looking him over intently. "If I didn't know better I'd say that you were at least seventeen if not older." She sounded a bit surprised.

That was about the physical age that Harry figured himself to be as well. "I must be an early bloomer." He said with a shrug.

"Is that actual stubble on your face? You're shaving already?" Katherine continued, now sounding quite a bit more incredulous. Height was one thing, but a beard was something else entirely.

Harry's lips twitched in amusement. He did indeed develop a patchy beard if he didn't shave often. He'd deliberately let himself grow some stubble to see how his foster parents would react.

"Yes, I am." He said simply. "Anyway, I just came to say 'hi' before going back. I've got a lot to do over the summer, so I'm not going to be around much, if at all."

"You'll need to be here on the seventh, we're meeting with the Burtons then." Katherine said.

"I can't, I have too much to do." Harry repeated, keeping the grimace he wanted to make off his face. The Burtons were as bad as his own foster parents from what he remembered.

"You can take a day off." Robert declared, as if that was the last word on the matter. "People have been asking questions about where you are and you need to make a few appearances."

"Their daughter has turned out quite well. I'm sure you'll like her." Katherine added, thinking to appeal to his hormones.

In this she failed spectacularly. Elizabeth Burton had indeed been a very pretty girl even a few years back and would by now probably be a very beautiful teen, but she was utterly vapid. Her personality would be more interesting if she was unconscious and Harry's libido was not nearly deprived enough of female companionship to willingly endure that kind of torture.

"My magical studies are more important." He said, simultaneously weaving a compulsion spell around Katherine. He firmly ignored the insidious thought of what else he could compel her to do. It wasn't the first time that he'd had thoughts of abusing his power like this.

"I suppose....." Katherine conceded reluctantly, the compulsion making her accept his words as truth.

"Now wait just a minute!" Robert protested at seeing his wife give in. "You have responsibilities to this family and you've been ignoring them for long enough already."

"You can handle the Burtons just fine without me." Harry told him, weaving another compulsion around the man. "The long term investment of my magic is much more important than having me go with you."

Robert subsided at that, his mind full of the possibilities that magic would open. Possibilities that Harry had neglected to inform him were illegal and which he would not carry out even if they weren't.

It was easy to leave after that, but something niggled at his mind despite the ease with which he had bent the wills of his foster parents and escaped their blasted socializing. Something had been wrong in that encounter and he wasn't talking about the questionable legality of it.

He couldn't pinpoint the feeling, but something had simply not felt right.

XXXXX

The mystery feeling didn't remain a mystery for very long, as it cleared up almost as soon as he made it back to the manor.

The situation had felt wrong because the gut feeling about people that he'd gotten used to had been absent. With no magic in them, Robert and Katherine were blank spots to this new sense he seemed to have developed. It had been a background sensation for so long that he'd only properly noticed it once it had vanished and returned.

It had been uncomfortable not to have that extra sense aorund people.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Sirius asked in exasperation.

"I was thinking." Harry replied, mildly irritated at having his train of thought interrupted.

"How about you rethink this plan of yours then?" The dog animagus prompted.

"It's a good plan." Harry insisted.

Perhaps more complicated than he would have liked but solid all the same. The Ministry could not be trusted to do the right thing, so a situation had to be created where too many people knew the truth for things to be swept under the rug.

That meant the media and that meant reporters. Harry disliked reporters on general principle and disliked magical reporters as a matter of caution. The Wizarding World seemed to have much looser laws in regards to slander than its muggle counterpart. The Daily Prophet had come across as valuing sensationalism and shock value over facts more than once.

But in this case that could be used. Nothing pleased the vultures more than a shocking and sensational truth.

"What if it fails?" Sirius asked.

That was a legitimite worry. It was possible that the reporter would squeal to the Ministry instead of printing the story, but Harry considered it a low probability. Reporters thrived on controversy like fungus thrived on moisture. "In that case we'll have to improvise."

"I still think we should bring Dumbledore in on this. He's got contacts everywhere. He could get this handled without the risk."

"No." Harry scowled. "I don't trust the old man. He was Chief Warlock back when you were first imprisoned, but he didn't even bother to visit you once, much less provide you with a trial. I'm not going to rely on him unless I absolutely have to."

Nothing good ever came of owing favors to powerful people, wizards least of all.

Sirius frowned but eventually gave a grudging nod. Yes, it was possible that Dumbledore had been as duped by the deception as anyone, but it was hard not to feel resentful for twelve years spent in Azkaban.

"I guess I was just hoping to keep you from doing all the work." He finally admitted with a resigned sigh. "You're way too young to be pulling my arse out of the fire like this."

"I'm not looking forward to it either, but we don't have a lot of options with Pettigrew being dead." Harry replied.

They had gone over a lot of possible plans, but using the media to cause a big scene and drag everything into the open was by far the most reliable. They could have directly contacted Amelia Bones, the current head of the DMLE, but Sirius had only her good reputation from over a decade ago to go on rather than any personal – or even recent – knowledge, so it was deemed too risky. They could have gone to Dumbledore, but Harry refused to consider it as anything besides a last resort. They could have even tried to contact one of the other European Ministries of Magic and asked for asylum for Sirius, but they couldn't predict how those Ministries would react or how corrupt they were.

Even Charlus and Dorea had admitted that using the papers as a platform to spread the truth before the Ministry could act and causing a public outcry had the most predictable consequences. Not necessarily the best, but the most predictable.

The Ministry would panic and demand that Harry and Sirius present themselves, but they would have to follow procedure unless they wanted a riot on their hands.

"Well, at least it'll make a good prank." Sirius replied, now smirking.

"I guess you could say that." Harry smirked back. "But enough about that, I think it's time we start getting serious about the animagus transformation."

"I'm always Sirius." Sirius stated with a stone face.

"Yeah, and no matter how much I shave, I'm always Harry." Harry riposted.

Sirius let out a barking laugh and grinned widely at his godson.

"Very well then, my brother in puns, let's make you an animagus."

XXXXX

Andy Smudgley was a reporter for the Daily Prophet, one of the less prominent ones. He didn't have Rita Skeeter's penchant for viciousness or her uncanny ability to ferret out sensitive information, so he mostly had to content himself with writing fairly mediocre articles.

Upon receiving a letter from the Boy-Who-Lived, offering him the chance for an interview, he had jumped at the chance without hesitation.

So here he was, standing outside the Leaky Cauldron and waiting for Harry Potter to arrive.

He wasn't particularly comfortable in the Muggle World, being a wizard-raised halfblood. The odd looks and amused smirks he was getting from the passing muggles were certainly something that he didn't appreciate.

"Mr. Smudgley?" A voice questioned, making the reporter look at who had adressed him.

A tall teenager, with very distinctive green eyes and a lightning bolt scar.

"Harry Potter?" Andy near-gasped, looking slightly up at the boy who had vanquished Voldemort. The legend of the Boy-Who-Lived was such that he didn't even question why a not-quite thirteen-year old boy was taller than him. It seemed only right for heroes to be tall.

"I thought I asked you not to draw attention to yourself?" Harry sighed, already embarrassed about having to stand near such an outlandishly dressed individual.

The reporter was wearing white, knee high socks and lime green crocs, a pair of tight beige shorts with suspenders and a blue V-neck T-shirt that was almost definitely made with women in mind. Completing the mismatched ensamble was one of the old-style cameras that wizards used and a rather girly looking purse that presumably held his wand.

He looked like a vaguely crossdressing hipster that had just come from Oktoberfest or something equally baffling, but at least he wasn't wearing a skirt.

"Isn't this how muggles dress?" Andy asked nervously, afraid that his lack of knowledge on muggle fashion would cost him the story.

"The weird ones perhaps," Harry answered with a smirk. "but nevermind that now, we should go."

Andy nodded eagerly. He was determined to make the most of this opportunity and not dissapoint the Boy-Who-Lived, who must have been impressed by one or more of his articles to have chosen him over the other reporters at the Daily Prophet.

Contrary to his thinking, he had not been chosen for any kind of ability. Sirius had merely liked the fact that he'd made a pun with his name when reporting on the animagus' Azkaban breakout.

"Where are we going?" The reporter asked after a few minutes of walking through the city.

"Somewhere a bit more private." Was the only answer that Harry would give him in regards to that.

They spent the next ten minutes walking in silence, one of them wondering where they were going and the other wondering how wizards could possibly screw up getting dressed as an inconspicuous muggle when they had so many examples. It was like they got all of their source material from crazy events like the previously mentioned Oktoberfest, or maybe those fashion shows with the really screwed up 'clothes'.

"Alright, here we are." Harry said once they arrived.

"But.......there's nothing here." Smudgley pointed out uncertainly, looking around the out of the way alley they had entered.

"Don't worry about that, this isn't our final destination, just a stopgap. Now, I'm going to need you to stay calm and not panic."

"Alright." Smudgley agreed easily enough.

"Teeny, transport us pelase."

"Yes, Harry Potter sir!" The little house elf said enthusiastically as she appeared and apparated them into a completely featureless room in Potter Manor. It was best not to let people know that he was back in residence.

Despite agreeing not to panic, Andy froze in panic at the sight of Sirius Black lounging on a chair.

But then a hand was laid on his shoulder and a feeling of calm spread through him.

"You've got nothing to be worried about, Sirius is only here to give you an interview." Harry said soothingly.

Once Andy got past the fear of being murdered, he quickly realized the journalistic value of this opportunity.

XXXXX

"Harry?"

"Yes, Luna?"

"You appear to have Sirius Black squatting in your home."

"Well spotted." Unlike the Daily Prophet reporter, Luna could be trusted not to reveal that Potter Manor was back in use, or that it contained Sirius Black.

"Hey, I am not squatting!"

"Squatting aside, Luna, would you like to interview Sirius for the Quibbler?"

"Not. Squatting."

"It would delay our trip to Germany by a few days, but I think daddy will understand. So Mr. Black, did you see any crumple-horned snorkacks during your stay in Azkaban?"

"Crumple what now?"

"Answer the question Mr. Black, or I will hold you in contempt."

"I don't think that reporters can hold people in contempt, Luna."

"Don't be silly, Harry, anyone can hold anyone in contempt. People do it to me all the time, and you do it to others all the time."

"I....can't refute that statement."

"Not to break up your moment of philosophy, but could we get to the part where I tell my harrowing story of betrayal and false imprisonment?"

"False imprisonment? Are you saying that you weren't in Azkaban these past twelve years, Mr. Black?"

"What? Of course I was in Azkaban!"

"Then how was your imprisonment false?"

Sirius worked his jaw as he tried to figure out the little blonde girl's logic, noticing that his godson was looking terribly amused by the whole thing.

"Stop smirking, Harry."

XXXXX

"That friend of yours is really something else." Sirius said after Luna had left.

"That she is." Harry agreed.

"What the hell is a crumple-horned snorkack anyway?"

"No idea, but I admire Luna's determination to find one."

XXXXX

Albus Dumbledore didn't like summers all that much. Oh, the weather was nice enough, but Hogwarts just felt so empty with the students and even several of the teachers gone. He couldn't even say that he had less paperwork to deal with since he had two other jobs, and DADA was an eternal thorn in his side.

At least he'd learned to expect his DADA teachers to become somehow unable to continue teaching for more than a year and had a replacement all lined up. He wasn't angry at Severus for outing Remus as a werewolf. He knew that there was bad blood between them, though he had hoped that the Potions Master would learn to leave it in the past.

He could only hope that Alastor would restrain himself a bit in the classroom and remember that the students were not Auror trainees. Still, having him around for the Tri-Wizard Tournament would be invaluable from a security standpoint.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament. How Ludo Bagman had come upon the idea of reviving that old competition and then convincing the necessary people to get it done, Dumbledore had no idea. He had to admit that he liked the thought of fostering international cooperation, particularly in light of the fact that he knew that Voldemort would almost certainly rise again someday, but he had been unwilling to agree to resurrect the tournament in its original form. He would not condone entering children into a deadly competition, no matter how skilled with magic they might be.

That at least had been agreed upon without issue by all involved. If only the rest of it were so simple. It was still being argued as to which school would have the honor of hosting the event. Karkaroff and Madam Maxime naturally wanted it to be at their schools, just as Dumbledore wanted it to be at Hogwarts. This was not merely a matter of prestige, but also of practicality. It would be quite inconvenient to be away from his school for that long after all.

Fortunately, tradition favored Hogwarts, as Durmstrang had hosted it the last time and Beauxbatons the time before that. Wizards and witches do like their traditions, and even the centuries that had passed since the last tournament weren't likely to sway people away from that.

These were the thoughts of Albus Dumbledore as he reached for his morning paper, idly wondering if Ms. Skeeter had printed any more of her vitriol today. Such a shame that a witch of her potential would spend her time spreading malicious rumors or gossip, but then, she had been like that for a long time now. Slytherin had not been kind to her during her school years, Dumbledore suspected.

It's a Sirius shock! Azkaban escapee Sirius Black tells his side of the story!

Safely alone in his quarters, Albus Dumbledore gaped unbecomingly at the headline on his copy of the Daily Prophet.

Yesterday, this reporter received an owl from Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, with an offer for an interview. We met outside the Leaky Cauldron and walked some distance away to a secluded alley, where Mr. Potter called for a house elf to transport us to an undisclosed location.

Imagine my shock when I found myself face to face with Sirius Black himself!

But the supposed mass murderer was not at all hostile. He was in fact rather friendly, though the shadow of Azkaban was still visible on his face.

Mr. Potter explained to me that the interview he had promised was not to be with him, but with Black.

The article then went on to reveal the tale of the switch between Secret Keepers, Pettigrew's betrayal, Sirius' wrongful imprisonment and subsequent escape, Harry meeting his godfather and offering him shelter from the Aurors and dementors and finally ending with the interview that he was now reading.

Dumbledore noted that it said nothing about the means by which Sirius had escaped, nor did it offer up any real details on the fate of Peter Pettigrew.

Mr. Potter is well aware that the DMLE will wish to speak to him and intends to present himself this very afternoon.

That particular line revealed the gist of Harry and Sirius' plan. The Ministry could not, after all, be seen to act rashly now that the truth was revealed to the masses, especially with Harry involved as he was. His status as the Boy-Who-Lived and Heir to the Potter family would shield him from the usual legal repercussions of harboring a wanted criminal.

Clever though this plan was, Dumbledore couldn't help but wish that they had come to him for help. He could have made things so much smoother. Things would now have to play out in the way that Harry and Sirius had set, but he still intended to be there.

He had clearly failed Sirius grievously once already by not taking the time to properly investigate the situation, so he would offer what help he could now. Not only was it a matter of doing the right thing, but also of keeping contact with Harry once Sirius took over his guardianship.

XXXXX

In the office of the Minister of Magic, there was much less certainty.

"This is a disaster!" Cornelius Fudge moaned. "What am I going to do, Lucius?"

Lucius Malfoy considered the situation carefully. Fudge was a simple creature to manipulate, but even a simpleton like him had limits to how far he could be bent with either words or 'donations'. Not many limits, but getting him to commit political suicide was one of them.

The exoneration of Sirius Black would reflect poorly on Fudge even if it had been Barty Crouch and the previous Minister, Bagnold, who had imprisoned him. The Minister was the face of the Ministry and it would be the Ministry as a whole who would end up with eggs on their face over this debacle. The statements he had made about hunting the fugitive down would not help either.

But that did not mean that simply doing away with Sirius Black would be possible, not after the truth was plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet. Too many questions would be asked if he mysteriously disappeared.

Lucius himself had long suspected that Black was innocent. As part of Voldemort's inner circle, he was aware of the identities of most every one of the Dark Lord's followers. That such a high profile member would slip past his notice was unlikely. Possible, but unlikely.

He had congratulated himself heartily over the windfall that the Malfoy family had gotten under his leadership. With Bellatrix imprisoned and barren(courtesy of a special, untraceable poison Lucius himself had added to her evening drink one day), Andromeda disowned, Regulus killed on some unspecified task for the Dark Lord and Sirius rotting in Azkaban, his own son was next in line to inherit the Black family and thus absorb it into the Malfoy line since his wife, Narcissa, was a Black by birth.

But now that was all in danger of being undone. Sirius was Heir to the House and had never been properly banished from the family despite his rebellion against everything that House Black stood for. If he was declared innocent, then Lucius could wave his dreams of absorbing House Black into Malfoy goodbye.

Unless of course another bout of misfortune happened to befall Sirius Black. But for that, information was required.

"Regardless of the...distressing nature of this article, Potter and Black have offered little proof of their words." He finally said. "Potter says that he will present himself to the DMLE this afternoon and I think that it would proper for the Minister of Magic to be present at such an important occasion, in order to judge for himself the veracity of these claims."

"Yes, yes of course. Black could be manipulating the boy after all, maybe even keeping him under the Imperious!" Fudge said, getting some of his composure back. "You'll be there too, won't you, Lucious?"

"If you wish for my advice, then who am I to refuse?" Lucius said, keeping the irony out of his voice with the ease of long experience. Weaning Fudge away from his reliance on Dumbledore and making him rely on Malfoy gold and advice instead had been almost too easy.

XXXXX

Harry made his way towards the visitors entrance of the Ministry of Magic, once again contemplating the dilapidated nature of this part of the city. He'd come here a few days ago to make sure that he could find it and had now apparated himself to a nearby alley.

He could sense several powerful aversion wards affecting the area, no doubt aimed at those without magic. It probably made this part of London unpalatable for muggles, leaving it to slowly decay.

He had to wonder if there was some kind of symbolism in having the magical government housed underground, covered by the filth of the surrounding muggles. Or perhaps it was the other way around, the presence of wizarding politics fouling the area.

A line of thought that was most unflattering to wizardkind either way.

Shaking the thought off, he stepped into the red phone booth that served as the entrance to the Ministry, amused at how completely it failed to be inconspicuous. If not for the aversion wards, this pristine looking but long since obsolete phone booth would probably attract a great deal of unwanted attention. In fact, that might be the reason for the wards in the first place.

Quickly entering 62442 to spell out 'magic', he waited for the operator that Charlus had told him would speak up.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business." A female voice droned. It reminded Harry of Binns, though marginally less monotone.

"Harry Potter, here to meet with Director Bones." He didn't know if he would actually be meeting with Amelia Bones herself, but it seemed like a fair assumption.

"Thank you. Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes." The instruction was accompanied by a rattling as the aformentioned badge was deposited into a receptacle.

It helpfully proclaimed 'Harry Potter, meeting with Director Bones'.

Harry did as the cool female voice had suggested and pinned the badge to his robes, a rather more ostentatious affair than he would've liked. He had been intending to show up dressed in quality, but eminently muggle clothing. Charlus and Dorea had insisted that he take one of the more formal robes that were hanging around in the manor however, arguing that snubbing the traditional wizard's apparel would not work in his favor. He understood their arguments and it had been part of the coaching they'd given him on how to comport himself around influential people, however much it grated on him due to the memory of similar lessons with Robert and Katherine.

Thus, robes. At least he'd managed to find a set that was a subdued black.

The floor of the fake phone booth began its slow descent after that and Harry took the time to get into the proper frame of mind for the events ahead. He knew that he would likely be stared at by a nerve wrackingly large amount of people, so he would need to keep his wits about him and project the image of imperturbable calm.

Fortunately, that was one of those things that Occlumency adepts frequently learned to do and Harry was advanced enough in the discipline to do it. No two Occlumancers went about it in precisely the same way as it was a personalized thing. Harry himself liked to wrap his thoughts in a peace so deep that it was like Dark. His thoughts were a river of Dark that swallowed all that entered it but remaining undisturbed. They were the vast silence between the stars that allowed no sound.

He had practiced such things often since Christmas, so it did not take him long to get into the proper mindset. He was finished shortly before he arrived in the Ministry atrium.

It was essentially a very long and wide hallway line with fireplaces that constantly burned with the green flame of floo travel. To his mild surprise, the whole thing was decorated rather tastefully, though his assumption on wizardkind's lack of restraint was vindicated by the sight of a garish golden statue of a goblin, centaur and house elf looking adoringly up at a witch and wizard. He strongly doubted that anyone save possibly the house elf harbored any kind of positive feelings towards humans.

Sirius had never been here, but Charlus and Dorea had and had explained to him what he could expect. The atrium was usually the most busy during the morning and evening hours when people arrived for work or went home, but saw a fair amount of activity through the day as well. It being three in the afternoon, it should have been relatively empty, but of course the statement he'd left in the Prophet and Quibbler that he'd be showing up in the afternoon had attracted gawkers.

The atrium was therefore full of overly curious busybodies trying to pretend that they weren't waiting for his arrival, as well as several Aurors, Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic himself, who quite obviously were waiting for him if the way they were watching the fireplaces was any indication. Apparently they'd expected him to use one of those.

Dumbledore spotted him first and swiftly strode over, the Aurors following a moment later and the Minister lagging behind like a nervous but eager puppy.

"Harry." Dumbledore greeted genially.

"Professor." Harry returned calmly, dismissing the audience as unimportant.

"You gave everyone quite the shock yesterday, my boy." The old wizard commented, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It was not how he would've dealt with the situation, but he had to admit that Harry and Sirius had come up with an effective, if loud, scheme. Sirius was likely having a good laugh at the prank they had pulled on the Wizarding World and he had to admit that Harry was handling his part much better than he had expected him to.

"That was the point." Harry stated noncommittally and Dumbledore nodded in understanding.

"May I present Aurors Shacklebolt and Dawlish, they will escort you to Amelia bones, which I see you have already surmised." Dumbledore introduced, gesturing to the two Aurors.

Shacklebolt was a tall man with dark skin and a rather jovial face, whereas Dawlish was pale and dour looking. Of the two, Shacklebolt felt considerably stronger. Both men gave him a nod and a short greeting, to which he replied in kind.

"And of course, last but not least, Conerlius Fudge, the Minister of Magic." Dumbledore finished, gesturing to the shortest man there.

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter." The Minister positively gushed and eagerly held out a hand for him to shake.

"Likewise, Minister." Harry replied, but didn't really mean it. Despite Dumbledore's words, it was quite obvious that Cornelius Fudge was indeed the least person here, both in magic and in stature. Charlus and Dorea had met him once and been unimpressed. Harry wasn't impressed either. A politician more than a wizard and corrupt besides, nothing to him but an empty title.

But he could definitely be useful. His presence had been expected but not guaranteed. His gradnparents had advised him to imply that he would support Fudge in exchange for help with the current situation, but Harry intended to go a step further than that.

As he shook the pudgy man's hand, he sent a mild compulsion through the point of contact, urging him to help Harry as much as possible. It was slightly harder than casting such spells on Robert and Katherine, but not by much. The Minister of Magic was the weakest adult wizard he'd ever encountered, weaker even than many Hogwarts students. Harry almost felt as if the Dark inside him could swallow the man whole.

Fudge laughed nervously and fidgeted with his lime green bowler hat when he took his hand back. He hadn't expected a boy barely into his teens to be this imposing, but staring up (how was he so damned tall anyway?) at those gleaming green eyes, he could easily believe that this was the one who had vanquished Voldemort as a baby.

He was even more glad now that he had asked Lucius to join them on this meeting. His good friend and advisor would surely help him make sure that this was handled properly.

"Shall we then?" He asked after nervously clearing his throat.

"Lead on." Harry prompted, his amusement at how easily bidden the Minister was a disconnected thing that didn't show on his face or in his voice.

Fudge nodded in a slightly jittery fashion and started walking at Harry's left side while Dumbledore took the right and the Aurors took up spots behind them.

Harry and Dumbledore were comfortable with their thoughts, but Fudge was apparently not.

"So...Harry, may I call you Harry?" He asked.

"If I may call you Cornelius." Harry replied unhurriedly. He felt nothing but disdain for the pudgy little man that was many decades his senior but undoubtedly a lesser wizard in spite of the age disparity. Nothing in his manner betrayed his true opinion though. He wouldn't be the first person to have been brought down by those who were less than him because he had overreached himself. A day would come when gnats like Fudge that hid their weakness behind politics would no longer concern him, but that day was quite a ways off into the future. For now, the idiot had his uses.

"Of course, of course." Fudge hastened to affirm, eager to forge close ties to someone as prominent as the Boy-Who-Lived.

On Harry's other side, Dumbledore withheld an amused smile. He wondered if Cornelius realized that he had just allowed a barely teenage boy with no tangible legal or political power to establish an equal relationship to the Minister of Magic. He wondered if Harry had done it on purpose and who had taught him if so. He wondered if Harry would even need his help to resolve this issue satisfactorily, as the lad truly was handling himself with remarkable poise. He wondered at how advanced Harry's Occlumency was to be capable of controlling himself like this already.

Dumbledore noticed that he spent a lot of time wondering where Harry was concerned.

"Anyway, I was wondering where Black was. The article in the Daily Prophet didn't mention that." Fudge continued.

"I'm not going to tell you that while you have a kill on sight order on him." Harry replied dryly.

"But I'm the Minister of Magic." Fudge protested, the first notes of an injured ego coloring his tone. The petulant whine of someone who thought he deserved respect.

"And as such you are required to uphold the law, are you not?" Harry asked archly. "It would reflect poorly on you for an innocent man to be killed due to a...bureaucratic mishap."

"Yes, yes of course!" Fudge was quick to affirm, nearly stumbling over the words in his haste to be seen as respectable. He didn't want the Boy-Who-Lived of all people to be his enemy! That would be a public relations disaster perhaps even worse than this business with Black.

The urge to roll his eyes popped into being in the Dark of Harry's mind and floated there aimlessly. How had someone this stupid and spineless ever made Minister?

"I believe that there is more to the story than what we learned from the Prophet." Dumbledore interjected mildly. "We should not make Harry repeat himself needlessly."

"Quite right." Fudge agreed as if that had been his idea from the start.

The lull in conversation did not last long, as they came upon a man waiting for them at the lifts.

Harry didn't even need Fudge's happy exclamation of 'Lucius!' to guess that this was Draco Malfoy's father. He'd been reminded of his annoying yearmate since he'd laid eyes on the blond man that was obviously trying entirely too hard to appear as aristocratic as possible, from his fancy robes and all the way down to that pretentious snake headed cane. In addition to that, Sirius, Charlus and Dorea had all described the man to him.

He and Sirius had gotten a good laugh at their description of the Malfoys being 'froggy bastards', due to their French heritage.

"Harry, this is my good friend Lucius Malfoy. I believe you are in the same Hogwarts year as his son, Draco." Fudge introduced enthusiastically, dreaming of having the support of both Lucius Malfoy and Harry Potter.

"A pleasure." Malfoy said neutrally.

"Yes." Harry said blandly.

Neither offered their hand, well aware that they would be unfriendly acquaintances at the most unrealistically optimistic best even if they had never met before. Lucius might have tried to get close to the Potter brat if he had not already heard from Draco about the antipathy between them. Attempting to be friendly would only serve to look suspicious.

Harry was merely trusting his gut when it told him that Malfoy senior was bad news.

"If I might ask, Cornelius, why have you invited Mr. Malfoy along for this." Dumbledore inquired in the uncomfortable silence that ensued.

Lucius' eyes tightened slightly at the subtle snub. Most referred to him as Lord Malfoy, but he was technically not a Lord. The Malfoy family had no seat on the Wizengamot due to being relatively new to Britain and were thus not a Noble House. They were very rich, and that money kept them high up in politics, but they were not one of those families that had a hereditary seat on the Wizengamot. That was another reason that he had been so eager for the Black family to be absorbed into his.

Truly, wooing Narcissa Black had been one of his better ideas. His father had been impressed with it too, for the little time that he'd lived after Lucius had arranged for him to get infected with Dragon Pox.

"He's one of my chief advisors." Fudge argued, unknowingly enlightening Harry as to the likely reason for his political success.

"Yes, but you will hardly need his advice in order to listen to Harry's explanation of the Prophet's article." Dumbledore countered in his best 'I'm everyone's wise and friendly grandfather' voice.

"I must say that I agree with the Headmaster." Harry added. "Your presence and that of the Aurors is expected of course and Professor Dumbledore is here both as Chief Warlock and as my current magical guardian, but as I understand it, Mr. Malfoy has no outstanding reason to be present for this."

He may not trust Dumbledore, but he wouldn't hesitate to use him as a shield if it was convenient.

"But-!" Fudge moved to protest.

Harry gave him no chance. Malfoy senior felt dangerous and he was not going to let him be present for this. The compulsion alone obviously wasn't enough for this.

"Minister." He said implacably, using his magic to press down on Fudge in a way that the basic five human senses could not perceive."This is a sensitive matter and it would not do for any more ears to hear than strictly necessary."

Cornelius looked into those powerful green eyes and felt the heavy regard of a much greater wizard, even if he didn't understand it.

"I'm sorry, Lucius, but he's right." He said meekly. He didn't want to send his friend away, but he couldn't gainsay the Boy-Who-Lived in this, especially with Dumbledore in on it too.

Dumbledore gave Harry a penetrating look. He had felt what the boy had done. Few wizards had the strength or knowledge to use their magic in such a fashion and they were generally of the old and powerful variety. He could do it, but even then perhaps not as subtly as Harry had just managed. How in the world had a boy of thirteen learned this skill? This bore investigating.

Lucius's lips thinned in displeasure as the group entered the lift. This, he reflected, was the problem with people like Fudge. Anyone with half a brain could yank them around and he could hardly offer the idiot a bribe in public.

Unnoticed by all, a beetle flew into the lift and hid in an unobtrusive corner

XXXXX

Harry found the Ministry lifts to be rather puzzling. The atrium was apparently on the 8th undreground floor, which meant that the visitor's entrance had taken him quite deep. Now they were going up again.

Wouldn't it have made more sense to have the atrium on the 1st floor if you were going to build underground? Wizards made no sense.

The short ride passed in silence, as Fudge seemed to be too off kilter after being made to leave Malfoy behind to chatter.

The walk through the DMLE was similarly short and uneventful, though Harry did find his attention captured once when they passed through Auror Headquarters, by a young woman in Auor robes . She was dressed properly for her job, but her spiky purple hair gave her the image of a punk rocker trying to infiltrate law enforcement.

She noticed him staring, her hair turned pink and she gave him a rather saucy wink, prompting Harry to return the gesture with a flirtatious smirk.

"Who was that?" He asked, quite sure that Dumbledore would know who he was referring to. The now pink haired Auror was very pretty and looked like loads of fun.

"Who was who?" Fudge asked in confusion, having missed the short byplay entirely.

"I believe that Harry was referring to Nymphadora Tonks." Dumbledore said, sounding amused. "A very capable young lady and a fine Auror." And Moody's last protégé, whom the grizzled old Auror had already recommended for recruitment into the Order of the Phoenix should it be reconvened.

There was an opportunity here.

"Why did her hair change like that?" Harry asked before Fudge could make an even bigger ass of himself.

"She is a metamorphagus, a natural shapeshifter." The old wizard explained.

"That sounds very useful." Harry mused. He knew that it was somewhat typically male of him, but his mind instantly jumped to the bedroom applications of such an ability.

"Indeed." Dumbledore agreed, sounding even more amused. He'd probably guessed what Harry had just thought about. "Further deliberation on the applications of shapeshifting will have to wait though, for we have arrived at Madam Bones' office."

Yes, Dumbledore had definitely guessed it.

XXXXX

Harry quickly deduced that Amelia Bones was a formidable witch, and not someone that could be pushed around like Fudge. Hers was the strongest presence he'd felt so far, bar Dumbledore himself.

The two Aurors left and then it was just her, him, Dumbledore and Fudge in the room. Something felt wrong about that number, but Harry couldn't for the life of him place what it was.

"Mr. Potter." Bones said by way of greeting, her displeasure ringing as clearly as a bell. "You've caused me and my department a great deal of trouble and embarrassment with those articles in the Prophet and the Quibbler."

Concern welled up in him at her tone, but was swallowed by the Dark in his mind and did not affect his composure.

"I apologize," He said calmly. "but I saw no better way to ensure my godfather's exoneration."

Amelia stared hard at the boy, noting with grudging respect that he remained unmoved by it. In fact, the only one who looked uncomfortable was Fudge. She wondered what had happened to Malfoy, whom she knew that the bumbling idiot had been planning to include on this meeting. Good riddance either way. She'd been tempted to cleave the bastard's head off more than once in the past twelve years.

"I'm sure that we can get this handled quickly, Amelia." The Minister fretted, worrying at his hat.

"We will handle it by the book, if that's alright with you Mr. Potter?" She stated more than asked in a tone that brooked no disagreement, a trace of sarcasm showing up at the end.

Harry felt a stirring of decidedly more personal interest in the woman. She was quite severe looking, but not at all unattractive, though that monocle was a bit odd. He wondered if she was this forceful all the time.

The thought was pushed aside. This was definitely not the time for that.

"Of course, Madam Bones."

"Good." She said with a firm nod. "Now, the first thing I want to know is when and how you came into contact with Black in the first place."

"During my very first Hogsmeade weekend. I recognized his animagus form and got him away from there before he did something stupid." He felt a spike of....something when he said that, but he once again failed to pin it down.

"Animagus form?" Bones asked, talking right over Fudge's surprised exclamation and noting Dumbledore's lack of surprise at the information.

"Yes, a big black dog. I remember him using it to play with me when I was a baby." Sorry Sirius, I know you wanted to keep that a secret, but Bryanna and Tiana were sure to have figured it out after this, if they haven't already. I might like them, but I'm not sure they'd keep it a secret and trying, and more importantly failing, to hide your animagus ability is the last thing you need.

"Your memory stretches that far back?" Dumbledore asked in some surprise.

"Yes." Harry answered simply.

"Do you remember what it was that caused Voldemort's downfall then?" The old wizard pressed.

Fudge yelped at the use of the Dark Lord's name, looking like he'd nearly lost control of his bladder.

Amelia merely twitched, the remnants of an old reflex.

"I do, but I'd rather not talk about it." Harry said. "It's not something that can really be used in anything other than a very specific set of circumstances."

Most people did not have months of forewarning that they were going to be murdered after all, nevermind the skill required to turn their own murder into a ritual sacrifice.

"Getting back to the matter at hand, what kind of stupid thing did you expect Black to do?" Bones asked, determined to stay on point despite her own interest.

"Sneak into the Gryffindor common room and murder Peter Pettigrew." Harry replied with a bland smile. That odd feeling from before manifested again, but remained elusive.

This time, even Dumbledore was surprised, though he quickly deduced the truth. He had assumed that the Weasley family rat had actually been several rats that Molly and Arthur had kept replacing in order to not upset their children, but it had apparently been just one animagus.

"Am I to understand that Peter Pettigrew is also an animagus and was hiding in Hogwarts all this time?" Bones asked, guessing at the truth.

"Close, he was a rat animagus and had been hiding with the Weasley family ever since his confrontation with Sirius."

"Was?" Bones asked sharply, picking up on the use of past tense.

Harry sighed heavily as he answered. "Yes, was. You see, I bought him from Ron Weasley just before the Christmas break. Sirius and I were intending to come forward with him and reveal the truth of what had happened after Voldemort's defeat."

"So why didn't you?"

"Sirius wanted to talk to him, he wanted to ask why Pettigrew had betrayed them and I admit that I wanted to hear it too. He was supposed to be their friend, but he sold them out to save his own skin. Sirius was always a brash sort and Azkaban hadn't improved his self-control any, so things got a little out of hand."

"Out of hand how?" Amelia's voice was considerably harder now.

"There was a lot of shouting and we stupidly hadn't thought to disarm the rat. Pettigrew reached for his wand and I panicked. I didn't even know what spell I was going to cast, I just knew that I couldn't let him do it first. Before I knew what had happened, I'd fired off a blasting curse." Harry did his best to put a tremor in his voice, though he wasn't sure how successful he was in that. He'd practiced doing it, but there really was no substitute for the real thing and he really couldn't muster much emotion over this months old issue anymore.

Fudge went a little pale and Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder supportively, though he was sure that there was a very uncomfortable conversation going to happen between them in the near future.

Amelia on the other hand, was clenching her jaw and looking deeply irritated.

"You mean to tell me, that you have killed a man and presumably had his body stashed somewhere since Christmas and have deigned to report it only now?" She demanded slowly, her expression thunderous.

Harry winced, but went on with his explanation. "Sirius and I were at a bit of a loss as to how we were going to explain this without him ending up lunch for the dementors. We argued about it for months until we finally decided that putting that article in the papers was probably the surest way of doing it."

That those months were also spent planning out how to get away with it went unsaid.

"Why didn't we receive any notifications about underage magic use?" Amelia asked suspiciously, seeing a slight discrepancy in the story.

"We were in an area warded against detection at the time."

"Harry, why didn't you come to me with this?" Dumbledore asked sadly. "I could have helped you."

"You were Chief Warlock when he was first thrown in prison, Professor." Harry pointed out. "You didn't ensure that he got a trial back then and we were only going to get one chance at this. There was no guarantee that he'd get one now."

Dumbledore looked even more saddened by that.

"Wait a second, Black was never tried?" Amelia interjected, momentarily surprised out of her anger at the way that Potter and Black had played fast and loose with the law.

"No. From what he told me, he chased down Pettigrew only for the rat to fire off the blasting curse that blew up the street and the muggles on it. The explosion had rattled him pretty badly and by the time he'd gotten his wits about him, he'd already been in Azkaban." Harry explained.

"Crouch is going to have a lot of explaining to do." Amelia growled.

"Indeed he will!" Fudge hurried to add, eager to be seen as the man that was correcting past injustices. He might actually benefit from this if he dumped all the blame on Bagnold and Crouch!

"And speaking of that, here is Pettigrew's wand." Harry said, pulling it out of on of his robe pockets. "It might still have the trace of that blasting curse on it, since I doubt that it's been used since then."

Amelia took it and cast Priori Incantatem on it, seeing that it did indeed register a blasting curse as the last spell to be cast.

"I also have one other wand for you." Harry went on once she did that, more slowly now. He reached into another pocket and drew out a wand with a ghastly white bone handle, which he was sure had been a later affectation instead of something that Ollivander had made for an eleven year old.

"I know that wand." Amelia said softly "How did you get it?"

"Pettigrew had it with him. I assume that he grabbed it from my room."

"I don't understand, whose wand is that?" Fudge demanded, obviously not recognizing it.

"Voldemort's, Cornelius." Dumbledore told him calmly, ignoring the way the Minister flinched.

"All this aside, that still leaves us with you Mr. Potter. You've harbored a known criminal, even though it seems that he was innocent, and you've hidden the fact that you've killed someone for months now, even if it was in self-defense."

"Come now, Amelia, surely you can't blame the lad for wanting to do right by his godfather? The man has clearly suffered enough already." Fudge interjected.

"Thank you, Cornelius, I appreciate your support." Harry said, aiming a smile at the Minister.

Amelia's face went stony for a moment as she saw the way that Potter had Fudge wrapped around his little finger already, not that it was exactly a difficult feat. That, combined with Dumbledore's obvious support would mean that Potter would be getting away with this whole debacle with barely a slap on the wrist, nevermind a full investigation. The most that she'd be able to do was put a black mark on his record, anything else would get waved off by Fudge in an effort to curry favor with the Boy-Who-Lived.

She hated it when politics got mixed up with the law. She hadn't been intending to throw Potter into Azkaban over this, he was only thirteen after all, but the obvious abuse of his reputation, Dumbledore's protection and Fudge's......Fudgeness, grated on her.

"I want Pettigrew's body, and I want to talk to Black. Immediately." She bit out.

"Right away, Madam Bones." Harry quickly agreed, seeing that the formidable witch was most definitely not happy with him.

"You're taking an Auror escort with you." She stated uncompromisingly.

"If I might suggest Nymphadora Tonks?" Dumbledore said, his eyes on maximum twinkle. "She is a cousin of Sirius' and might serve to put him more at ease than others."

Harry gave the Headmaster an incredulous look. Was the old man seriously helping him get hooked up with the pretty shapeshifter?

"An excellent idea!" Fudge contributed, oblivious as ever.

Amelia gave Potter and Dumbledore a scrutinizing look, wondering what they were up to that involved Auror Tonks.

"Why her in particular?" She demanded.

"She is a most impressive young lady." Dumbledore replied, sounding very amused.

Amelia knew that this was true. Tonks might be a rookie and bit of a klutz, but she was powerful and resourceful. She fully expected her to become one of the best in a few years, after she got some experience under her belt.

That didn't explain why Dumbledore had suggested her though. There didn't seem to be anything nefarious about it and it was the kind of assignment that a rookie would be given, but Black was pretty high profile and she didn't feel charitable enough to go along with whatever this was.

"I'm assigning Shacklebolt to be your escort."

Was that a flash of disappointment that had just crossed Potter's face?

XXXXX

As Madam Bones' office emptied, Rita Skeeter buzzed stealthily out of the Ministry of Magic in her beetle animagus form, nearly vibrating with excitement over all the material she'd just gathered. The Daily Prophet's next headline would be sensational!

XXXXX

Harry felt that things had gone rather well, all things considered. Fudge's presence had been unexpectedly useful, as the man was quite obviously a politician for hire, supporting whoever would benefit him the most. Of course, this might be a bit problematic in the future if he ever expected Harry's support, but no promises had been made.

Amelia Bones had been quite a bit more intense than he'd been expecting, but he supposed that not every pureblood could be a useless waste of air. He hoped that he hadn't made an enemy out of her, as a woman like that could cause him quite a bit of grief in the future if she put her mind to it.

Dumbledore had acted more or less as expected, aside from that very odd attempt to contrive an opportunity for Harry to talk to the interesting metamorphagus Auror. He really had to wonder what the old man had hoped to achieve with that.

The thing that really bothered him about that meeting was the strange feelings he'd been getting the whole time. It had felt almost like there was another person in the room, but the only thing he had to go on with this theory was his gut feeling and the strange spikes of emotion when he said something particularly surprising.

XXXXX

Sirius had been anxiously pacing through the foyer of Potter Manor ever since Harry had left for the Ministry, waiting for his turn. His godson had wanted to keep the use of the place secret, displaying Moody-like levels of paranoia about information but had eventually conceded that the DMLE at least would need to be informed now.

It was almost a relief when Harry returned with the tall Auror that he introduced as Shacklebolt and he was side-along apparated directly to the DMLE to avoid any lingering gawkers. Even if things went pear-shaped, at least the tense waiting was over.

It had been replaced by an entirely new kind of tension.

"Sirius Black." Amelia Bones said in a stony tone that betrayed a certain amount of irritation.

"In the flesh." Sirius replied with a winning smile. He noted with dismay that Madam Bones seemed immune to his charm.

"First, let me just assure you that you aren't going back to Azkaban anytime soon. Since Crouch didn't even bother to properly charge you with a crime before throwing you in there, the Ministry actually owes you quite the hefty apology, as well as compensation if we determine that you are indeed innocent." She went on, almost kindly.

"I appreciate that." Sirius said, feeling a certain amount of tension bleed out of him. It was good to know that Amelia was as fair as her reputation claimed.

"That being said, I am extremely annoyed by the stunt that you and your godson pulled." The kindness was now replaced with a growl as she glared at him. "Now you are going to tell me everything that happened from the moment that the Potters switched Secret Keepers to the moment that you set foot in my office and if I find out that the two of you are trying to pull another fast one on me, then I am going to bury you. I don't care if your godson has Fudge and Dumbledore on his side, I am going to find a way to do it. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sirius nodded, swallowing nervously. What a scary woman.

XXXXX

Harry had an uncomfortable conversation of his own to attend to and his wasn't even with an attractive older lady.

Dumbledore had somehow arranged for a private room for them and spent the next few minutes liberally applying privacy spells to make sure that it was actually private.

Once he was done with that, he turned to Harry and stared at him inscrutably, saying nothing.

Well, two could play that game. Harry stared back impassively, sinking further into the deep sense of peaceful Dark that had allowed him to keep himself composed during this entire nerve wracking experience.

"I see that your study of Occlumency is progressing well." Dumbledore finally said.

"Yes." Hary replied unhelpfully. The old wizard would have to broach the subject more directly than that.

"I could have helped you, my boy." Dumbledore said sadly, repeating himself from earlier when he saw Harry's reticence. "If you had come to me after meeting Sirius, I would have listened. We could have captured Pettigrew easily and all of this would never have needed to happen."

Harry heard the implication as clearly as the words. You would never have needed to be a killer. It would have been better if you trusted me to handle things for you. He still didn't understand why Dumbledore wanted his trust so badly.

"You have a history of poor decisions behind you. I couldn't risk having you make another. Not with this." He said evenly.

Dumbledore sighed in a greatly put upon manner. "I am not perfect, Harry. I can make mistakes the same as any man, especially when I don't have all the facts as was the case with Sirius."

"Leaving me with the Dursleys? Leaving the school open with a basilisk on the loose? You should have had enough information to prevent those."

"There were extenuating circumstances for those decisions." Dumbledore argued, but declined to elaborate. He was not used to explaining himself to people.

"Hmm." Harry replied, unconvinced. "It doesn't matter anymore and we've gotten off topic. This matter is settled, Sirius will get the acquittal he deserves and become my guardian as my parents wanted."

He was perfect for it too. Still as immature as a man less than half his age and not at all inclined to be responsible, especially when he seemed to be looking at Harry as a replacement for his murdered friend rather than as a child to be protected. A poor parent and one more suited to doing rather than thinking. Perfect for Harry's purposes, as he'd likely leave him to do all the thinking.

"Yes, he no doubt will." Dumbledore agreed. He wasn't going to try getting in the way of that, even though he had some misgivings about Sirius' ability in that area. "I am merely saddened that the process was so messy."

"Was that all?" Harry asked, getting tired of the conversation.

"Just one more thing." Dumbledore promised. "Minister Fudge and Lucius Malfoy may not be sensitive enough to notice what you did, but I am."

"And what did I do?" Harry asked noncommittally, inwardly very worried. He might have become a great deal stronger since the first time he'd felt the power of Dumbledore's magic back in second year, but he was under no illusions that he would be able to match him. Even if their magic were of equal potency(which it wasn't), Dumbledore was simply too experienced right now for him to fight in any way. If the old man decided to start being difficult, then he could be very difficult indeed.

"You wielded your magic as a tool of intimidation, forcing the Minister to comply with your wishes to send Malfoy away."

Ah, that. The ability to project your will on another by exerting a spiritual pressure on them. He hadn't expected that any wand-reliant wizard would be aware of themselves enough to realize that their magic was more than just a power source for their spells, but he supposed that had been foolish of him. It had been arrogant to assume that everyone but him was completely blind.

"I do not know how you are capable of such a thing at your age, but I do know that you have used some ritual to speed your growth."

Harry's face went completely blank at that, listening silently as Dumbledore went on.

"I do not know which, as my own research has unearthed no ritual that fits my observations, nor do I know what price you paid for it. Furthermore, I suspect that you did not perform only one such ritual, as your mind went from completely undefended to impenetrable too quickly to be the result of Occlumency training."

"Is there a point to this, Professor?" Harry asked, deciding to ignore Dumbledore's not-quite admission to casual use of Legilimency. He'd already known that the old man did it after all.

"Yes, there is." Dumbledore said softly. "I would caution you to temper your lust for power, Harry. I was much like you in my youth. I too desired power over all other things and resented anything that held me back from my ambitions. It was only when those same ambitions caused the death of my sister that I saw the ruin I was causing around me. I would not wish for you to go through the same thing."

"I'll keep it in mind." Harry said, but was mostly just annoyed by the little speech.

"I know that I must sound terribly patronizing to you right now." Dumbledore chuckled self-deprecatingly. "I imagine that my advice is unwanted and the implication that you would repeat my mistakes resented."

Harry didn't reply, not wanting to make an obvious lie by denying it but also unwilling to outright agree.

"Wizards and witches have a very strange relationship with power." Dumbledore went on, seemingly off topic. "They hate it and adore it, fear it and worship it. The powerful among us do not often get the luxury of keeping to ourselves as we grow in strength. Whether by our own actions or by that of others, we find ourselves thrust into the center of events."

"Is that why you're the Chief Warlock and Supreme Mugwump, despite not being from a Noble House?" Harry asked with a raised eyebrow, interested in spite of himself. He knew that neither of those posts required that the holder be from a Noble House, especially the Supreme Mugwump one as it was an international position, but they did usually require a lot of money to get elected, something that he was reasonably certain that Dumbledore did not have an abundance of.

"Ah, you've noticed that, have you?" The old wizard asked rhetorically. "Indeed, after my defeat of Grindelwald, there was no shortage of people eager to foist all responsibility for everything on me."

"And you expect that I will find myself in the same situation?" Harry guessed.

"You have had a reputation since the night Voldemort attacked you and have shown great potential in your schooling since then. There are those who will want to use you and what you represent to further their own agendas, or seek to remove you if they feel you will oppose them. This is especially true now that you have drawn attention to yourself." Dumbledore explained.

"So...what, am I supposed to cower and pretend to be less than I am?" Harry demanded. Pretend mediocrity to appease the masses unimaginative sheep? Unacceptable. He wanted to unravel the deepest mysteries of magic, not quibble over cauldron bottom thickness with a bunch of old greybeards who had more in common with mundane politicians than actual wizards. Even becoming a Dark Lord would be preferrable to that.

Dumbledore needed no Legilimency to guess at Harry's thoughts. He had felt the same way once. He imagined that most of those who stood above their peers felt that way at some point.

It was so easy to look down on those who were less powerful than yourself. So easy to become frustrated with society's limitations on magic use when you felt yourself capable of doing it, of mastering anything. Dumbledore still remembered the hunger for more and the bitter resentment at anything that stood in his way. He had been well on the path of a Dark Lord when Ariana's death had shocked some sense into him. Sometimes, as he paced in his office late at night, he still wondered if he could have swayed Gellert away from that path if he had been wiser and less bullheaded in his youth.

But all that hard earned wisdom would be meaningless to a lad of thirteen that didn't want to hear it. It had been meaningless to Tom Riddle as well.

"No, Harry, I do not expect you to do that. It is quite too late for that even if you wanted to. Instead, I would offer my help in navigating the treacherous waters you've just entered. I mean no disrespect to Sirius, but he is not a politician. You are still a few years away from your majority, regardless of the state of your body, but people like Minister Fudge will not be stopped by that in their attempts to use you. We may even be able to squeeze in a few lessons on magic."

Words may be meaningless, but an offer of help and a bribe of knowledge might work. He could try to steer the boy away from his current path during their meetings. Harry would eventually need to die in a confrontation with Voldemort anyway, but it would be much better if he did it as a champion of good rather than as a rival Dark Lord.

Harry was honestly tempted to accept just for the magic lessons. He might not trust Dumbledore, but the old man was indisputably an accomplished wizard. But the fact of the matter was that he didn't trust him and he remembered a saying he'd heard from somewhere, something about help when offered but not needed often being no help at all.

Besides, the only politics he intended to do was abusing the shit out of his noble status. Other than that, he was planning to do his own thing.

"I'll think about it." He said without really meaning it. Better to try navigating treacherous waters alone than with the help of a shark.

XXXXX

After that conversation, Harry made his way back to the DMLE. For one thing, he needed to wait for Sirius to finish talking to Director Bones.

For another, he wanted to talk to that cute Auror. This would actually be the first time that he was so blatantly making the first move with a girl since Zoe, and even then he'd been given an opening when she'd caught him staring at her boobs. Fortunately, Harry was finding the prospect of approaching a girl considerably less daunting ever since he'd killed Pettigrew. It was morbid as all hell, but killing a person had a way of changing your outlook on life and that wasn't even mentioning the ritual shenanigans that had happened immediately after.

It took a little effort to find her, as the area was divided into cubicles, but he knew her name and it was easy to ask which one was hers.

He found her in short order after that. She was doing paperwork and her previously vibrant hair had turned a dull brown. It wasn't even as spiky as it had been earlier.

"Good afternoon." He greeted, giving the wall of her cubicle a light knock.

She looked up and her mood visibly improved upon having something other than paperwork to do. Literally, as her hair perked up and turned a light purple.

"Wo- I mean, good afternoon Mr. Potter. What can I do for you?" Her hair turned an almost red sort of pink as she stumbled over the words.

Harry was deeply amused at seeing that her hair seemed to act like some kind of magical mood indicator. She'd obviously been going for a casual greeting before recalling that on-duty Aurors were supposed to be officious when talking to civilians, and was embarrassed by her near-blunder.

"Just Harry please. I've been called Mr.Potter too much today already." He said with his most charming smile.

"Well then, Harry, I suppose you can call me Tonks since you've saved me from having to do paperwork for a while." She smirked back, hair going a more playful pink.

"Not Nymphadora?" He inquired with an exagerrated wounded look.

"No." She growled, hair turning an indisputably angry red.

Okay, dangerous territory.

"Not fond of your name I take it?" He asked.

"You wouldn't be fond of your name either if my damn fool mother had been the one to pick one for you." Tonks grumbled.

"At least your name sounds special." Harry commiserated. "What kind of name is 'Harry' for a wizard anyway? I might as well go around calling myself Tim the Enchanter."

"Was that a Monty Python reference?" Tonks asked with a surprised laugh.

"You understood a Monty Python reference?" Harry asked back with equal surprise.

"My dad's a muggleborn and he loved those movies, insisted that we watch them. Mum and I didn't think they were as funny as he claimed, but we watched them anyway." Tonks explained.

"I'm just happy that I've finally met someone who understood one of my references." Harry replied with overdone relief. "You have no idea how much it sucks to make a Conan the Barbarian joke and only get blank looks in return."

"Who?" Tonks asked blankly.

"Yeah, that's the one." Harry sighed despondently, slumping his shoulders.

"Aw come one, you can't expect me to get every reference." She protested.

"I guess not, but you really got my hopes up with the Monty Python one." Harry complained.

"Well, excuuuse me." Tonks apologized sarcastically, smirking widely . Potter was turning out to be a lot more interesting than she'd expected him to be. And a great alternative to paperwork.

"How about you make it up to me by letting me take you on a date?" Harry proposed, once again smiling at her.

Tonks couldn't help it, she burst out into a loud peal of laughter that probably garnered some very odd looks from the Aurors in the surrounding cubicles.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." Harry said with dignity. He absolutely loved that hair of hers. It was keeping mostly to playfully bright pink colors that he was fairly sure indicated that she wasn't at all annoyed by his advances. She could probably control it if she wanted to, but as long as she wasn't bothering, he pretty much got free cues on how well he was doing.

"Smooth, Potter. Real smooth." She replied, still chuckling.

"I thought we agreed on 'Harry', and I'm still not hearing a 'no'."

"You're funny, but I usually prefer my men a bit...older."

"What a coincidence! I usually prefer my women a bit older, so we've already got something in common."

"What women?" Tonks snorted. "You might be able to pull off the late teens look, but everyone knows that you're only fourteen."

Harry decided to make no comment about not being fourteen yet.

"You'd be surprised." He said mysteriously. "If you want, I can tell you all about it on our date."

"You're serious? You really want want to take me on a date?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. She hadn't thought that he was actually serious about taking her on a date, but he apparently really was ballsy enough to ask out an Auror at his age and expect her to agree to it.

"No, Sirius is my godfather and he's currently getting grilled by your boss." Harry smirked.

"Merlin's hairy bollocks, that was horrible." Tonks groaned. "I remember Sirius making that stupid pun when I was a kid, but it didn't sound so bad back then and I didn't expect it from anyone else."

"You think that's bad? Just wait until I make one with my own name." Harry said back with a grin.

Tonks looked confused for a moment before it dawned on her what he was talking about.

"Don't you dare." She warned.

"I mean, I shaved before coming here, but I just can't stop being Harry!"

"You evil git, you're supposed to be a paragon of good, not some pun spewing monster."

"Don't believe everything you read, I'll keep throwing my darkest, dankest puns at you until you agree to go on a date with me and Sirius is probably going to be in there for hours, so I've got plenty of time."

"Fine, I'll go on a date with you! Just....stop."

XXXXX

When Sirius finally got to leave Director Bones' office, he was mentally exhausted. The woman was like a dog with a bone, and Sirius felt uniquely qualified to make that comparison.

It had taken forever before she was satisfied with his rendition of events and even then she'd still piled up a small mountain of conditions before allowing him to leave.

His animagus form would be registered now, which just plain sucked. He'd have to keep an amulet with a tracking charm on his person at all times that would vibrate if they wanted to speak to him again. He was to stay inside Potter Manor until a press release could be given that confirmed his innocence so as not to cause a panic. He was to stay available for further interviews at all times, until the DMLE was fully satisfied with their investigation. He was mildly surprised that she hadn't insisted on collaring Padfoot as well.

Sirius had the distinct feeling that he and Harry had deeply irritated Amelia Bones.

Now he just had to find his godson and go back home. He knew that Harry had received a similar set of orders, though slightly more lenient since he was a minor.

"All done?" Auror Shacklebolt asked as he closed the door behind him.

Sirius liked the dark skinned Auror. The man was polite and respectful and showed none of the hostility that he'd seen on the faces of some of the others. He'd been professional and even sympathetic for the entirety of their admittedly short acquiaintance.

"Yeah." He breathed. "That boss of yours is one tough cookie."

"You should've seen her this morning when the Prophet came in." Shacklebolt chuckled. "She looked about ready to breathe fire."

"I can believe that, it did feel remarkably like being locked in a room with an angry dragon." Sirius said with a theatrical shudder. "Now where is that godson of mine?"

Shacklebolt suddenly looked uncomfortable. "He's been talking to Auror Tonks while you've been in with the boss."

"Auror Tonks?" Sirius blinked. "Not Nymphadora Tonks? Andromeda's little girl?"

"That's her."

"And she's an Auror now?"

"That's right, Mad-Eye Moody's last trainee before he retired."

"That's great, I haven't seen her since she was six. Where is she?" He and Andromeda had never been hugely close, but she was his favorite cousin by far(admittedly not saying much when the other choices were a crazy sadist like Bellatrix and a spoiled snob like Narcissa, but Andromeda was a genuinely decent woman), so seeing her now grown up daughter again would be nice.

"Right this way." Shacklebolt sighed and led him through the maze of cubicles.

Sirius had to blink in surprise again when he laid eyes on his godson. Harry was apparently having a very good time flirting with Andromeda's daughter.

"So that's how it is?" Sirius demanded when he saw this, bidding Shacklebolt goodbye as the big Auror went back to work. "I'm getting interrogated and you're over here, flirting with my cousin the whole time?"

"Cut the crap, Sirius, you'd do the exact same thing." Harry retorted dryly without missing the beat.

"You're damn right I would. You make me so proud." Sirius grinned. He decided not to comment on the fact that Tonks and Harry were related. Dorea and Andromeda weren't that close on the family tree anyway, not nearly as close as the first cousin relationship of his own parents at any rate.

"Wotcher, Sirius. Long time no see." Tonks greeted with a wave.

"I'll say. The last time I saw you, you were just a little girl with rainbow colored hair that hated her first name." He agreed.

"She still does." Harry said with grin.

"Are you serious?" Sirius grinned back.

Tonks groaned, anticipating some bad puns.

"No, you're Sirius. I'm Harry."

"But I saw you shave today!"

"I know right? It's uncanny."

"Will you two idiots please stop with the puns? I already agreed to go on a date with Harry." Tonks groaned again.

"Harry, did you get yourself a date by using puns?" Sirius asked, very much impressed.

"Yep, you could say that I Blackmailed her into it."

"Hehehehe."

"You're monsters, both of you. You should be in Azkaban for having such a horrible sense of humor."

"That would be quite the punishment."

"This is why people hate their relatives."

XXXXX

Waiting on the muggle side of London, Tonks really had to wonder how she'd gotten roped into a date with a kid that didn't look quite as young as he should, nor act like it.

Ah yes, of course. He'd been funny, charming, very persistent and depressingly enough, more interesting than her usual brand of suitors. If she had to put up with one more idiot who thought he was being clever by asking what her 'true form' was, she might have seriously started considering the use of the Cruciatus as a corrective measure.The fact that she'd also found him rather attractive was best not considered. That way lay confusion.

Having a muggleborn father and a pureblood mother had been the cause of more than one culture clash during her upbringing, such as each parent having very different ideas on the age of consent. Her mother would not be at all bothered by this date, but it would be for the best if her father never heard of it.

It had been good to see Sirius again. She remembered liking him the few times that he had visited and being very upset when he suddenly stopped. She hadn't learned about his supposed murder spree until years later. It was gratifying to know that he was innocent, bad puns and all.

Speaking of Sirius, the man had wished them well on their date(complete with lewd remark of course) and gone back to Potter Manor. He was apparently planning to write to a friend of his and spend the evening catching up since he was effectively grounded until Madam Bones issued a press release declaring him innocent of all charges. Harry had gone with him to change out of his robes since they'd agreed that the date was going to take place on the muggle side.

Tonks was pretty sure that her boss had chewed out both Sirius and Harry for the way they'd sprung this whole thing on her. The entire department had tiptoed around her since morning, wary of attracting her obvious wrath. Even Scrimgeour, the humorless bastard, had looked a bit aprehensive.

She spotted her date approaching then, cutting through her train of thought. She had to admit that he cleaned up rather well in his black shirt and slacks, if a bit monochromatic.

"M'lady." He greeted with good natured mockery, looking over at her ripped blue jeans, black combat boots, pink tube tob, open black jacket, decorative black choker and of course, her usual spiky purple hair. "You look ravishing."

"And you look like like you wouldn't know casual if it bit you on the arse." She snarked back. They were going to look ridiculously mismatched.

"Ah, but not all of us can look as good as you in casual clothes and I felt that you deserved my best." He rejoinedered.

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you?" She asked dryly.

"Not at all." He grinned. "The punk rocker look definitely suits you."

"Not going to be embarrassed to be seen with me then?" She asked with exaggerated disappointment, falling into step with him as they started walking.

"Embarrassed to be seen with a such a beautiful woman? Impossible. Meeting with that Daily Prophet reporter, now that was embarrassing."

Tonks rolled her eyes at the continued flattery, but was inwardly pleased nonetheless. It was always nice to be complimented. "What was he wearing? Some of the more muggle savvy of us in the DMLE have a competition going on who can find the most ridiculously dressed witch or wizard."

"That sounds like an interesting competition." Harry commented before describing the Oktoberfest-esque outfit that Smugley had worn for their meeting.

Tonks shook her head in disbelief once he was done. "I swear, some of these people have to be doing it on purpose. Either that, or they're getting their source material from the most out of the ordinary places possible. A few months back, there was a witch brought to St. Mungo's that thought all muggles dressed like death metal bands. She'd put a layer of white paint on her face that was at least an inch thick and used magic to solidify it."

"You can't be serious." Harry asked incredulously.

"No, that's your godfather." Tonks snarked vengefully.

"I probably deserved that." He admitted.

"Yes, yes you did."

"So what happened with the death metal witch?"

"Nearly suffocated under the paint, probably would have if her sister hadn't been there to apparate them both to St. Mungo's. I heard that the healers had to use a paint stripping spell to get her face cleared.

Harry winced. "That must've hurt."

"Probably." Tonks agreed. "Where are we going anyway? You never did tell me what you had planned for this date."

They'd agreed to stick to muggle entertainment for several reasons. For one, the Wizarding World tended to close its doors earlier. For another, it simply didn't have quite as much to offer in the way of entertainment either since it was so much smaller.

That was actually the primary reason that Tonks was so well acquiainted with the Muggle World in the first place. The fun on this side was much more to her tastes.

"It's pretty late already, so our options are a bit limited. I was thinking dinner and a movie?"

"Works for me." She'd had the afternoon shift today and hadn't eaten anything substantial since leaving home.

"I hope you don't mind buffet's. Regular restaurants always give out too small portions for me."

XXXXX

"How are you not the size of Hagrid?" Tonks demanded, seeing Harry finish off his third plate of food.

"Magic." He answered mysteriously, trying to keep down a grin and not being entirely successful.

"Seriously, you must eat as much as him." Tonks insisted.

"Nah, not that much." Harry refuted, but wasn't entirely certain. The Hogwarts gamekeeper tended to eat more in one sitting than him, but Harry knew that he ate more often.

And that wasn't even mentioning the various supplements he took, such as vitamins, calcium, iron and magnesium. He'd gotten a bit worried about nutrition after finding his appetite increased to its current ridiculous level, and had researched what he might be lacking in his diet. He didn't want to assume that magic would handle everything and later discover that his bones had become brittle from growing too fast with too little calcium or something. It was odd to feel grateful for Katherine's obsessive nutrition phase that he was even aware of that potential problem.

Potter Manor now had a room dedicated to the storage of a rather large amount of dietary supplements that Teeny faithfully brought him every day. He really wanted to do something nice for the little elf, because her help had been truly indispensable, but she threatened to cry every time he tried and there was nothing quite so guilt inducing as a blubbering house elf.

"Besides, can't you regulate your own figure with your special ability?" He asked. They were in a fairly out of the way corner, so it was safe to talk about magic if they were discrete about it.

"Some." She admitted. "But I'd still get fat if I ate like you."

"What are the limits of your shapeshifting anyway?" He pressed, seizing the opportunity. He'd been burning with curiousity about the ability ever since he'd heard of it. That had only increased when he'd gotten a good feel for Tonks' magic. It was far more.....fluid or maybe mutable would be a better term, than what he felt in other magicals.

"I can't add or remove too much mass, but other than that I can do more or less anything."

"Even gender switching?" He asked, further, eyebrows climbing upwards in surprise.

"Why, you'd prefer to date a man?" She asked back with a smirk.

"I walked right into that one." He said ruefully.

"Yup." She agreed smugly. "But yes, I can switch gender if I want to."

"That's incredible." He muttered. "But how? Wouldn't that require you to focus on all the internal changes?"

"Not really." She shrugged. "I just focus on what I want and it sort of happens by itself. I guess my magic must know what to do even if i don't."

"Fascinating. I wonder if it actually accesses your DNA to get the relevant information, or does it just forcibly change it?" He mused to himself, garnering an odd look from his date. "I don't suppose you would be willing to submit to experimentation?"

Tonks rolled her eyes at both the question and his cheesy grin when he asked it. "The Department of Mysteries already asked that and I'm sure you can guess what my answer was."

"No?" He ventured.

"I wasn't quite that polite, but you're essentially correct."

"Ah, too bad." He sighed dramatically. "I was hoping to duplicate the ability."

He was still going to try.

"Of course you did, bloody Ravenclaw." Tonks snorted. "This is why Hufflepuff is the best, you nerds don't know when to stop studying and the less said about Gryffindor and Slytherin the better."

"Can I have just one more question on this topic?" Harry requested.

This time it was Tonks who sighed dramatically, reaching for her glass of water. "Fine."

"Are you using it to keep your boobs so perky, or is that natural?"

The Auror spluttered with surprised laughter at the impertinent question, spitting a bit of water over her empty plate.

"See? I can have fun." Harry said smugly while Tonks worked on clearing her esophagus.

"Touché, Potter, touché." Tonks conceded. "I'm afraid that your question is stupid though, oh great intellectual comedian. For me, it's more natural to use my metamorphagus abilities than not."

"Ah." Harry nodded sagely. "So your boobs are both naturally perky and saggy. It's a breast paradox."

"How dare you call my girls saggy!" Tonks said, perhaps a bit too loudly if the odd look from a passing employee was any indication. "I'll have you know that I barely even need bra's. They're that perky."

"That's definitely something worth bragging about in public." Harry commented dryly, making Tonks flush in embarrassment as she realized that their conversation had gotten just a wee bit too loud to still be called discrete.

She cleared her throat and decided to move away from this topic. "So, what movie are we going to watch?"

"Lets check." Harry said and pulled out his mostly neglected smartphone.

"Ooh, is that one of those smartphone thingies?" Tonks asked eagerly and siddled over to sit next to him so that she could look over his shoulder.

"Yes." He confirmed, trying very hard to ignore what her tube top covered breasts were doing to him as they pressed into his back. They really were very perky. "I don't get much use out of it with how much time I spend at Hogwarts, but it's useful during the summer at least."

"I thought about buying one just for the novelty, but the paperwork is really a pain in the ass when you technically don't exist in the Muggle World. Not to mention the hassle of keeping it away from magic." Tonks commented, smirking as she noticed that Harry was sitting a bit too stiffly to be natural. Poke fun at her breasts would he? See how he liked it when her breasts poked at him.

"I guess that would be a problem." He agreed, almost managing to sound like he wasn't distracted. Almost. "Let's see....We've got the usual choices between sappy romance and car chases and explosions, as well as...a....few....Tonks?"

"Yeees?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but do you have two wands in your jacket or are those your nipples poking me?"

"They might be, you said yourself that my breasts are perky."

"Well, it's just that....they feel awfully long to be nipples."

"They're very perky."

"You are an evil woman, Tonks." And Harry meant that with feeling. He'd known that the shapeshifting Auror would be loads of fun, but right now he was getting a serious urge to shag her on the spot. He had no idea how he was going to survive a whole movie feeling like this.

"I know." She breathed huskily into his ear and deliberately rubbed her now two inch nipples over his back, having entirely too much fun teasing him.

"So...um...which movie would you like to see?" He asked distractedly.

"You asked me out, so you should decide." She answered in the same husky tone. "Hurry, Harry! Before we puncture the Statute of Secrecy."

Harry groaned. "I thought you hated puns?"

"That's what I wanted you to think."

XXXXX

They left the restaurant shortly after that, with Tonks needing to take a quick side trip to the bathroom to magically repair her stretched out top, as it had not been made with two inch nipples in mind.

The movie was much less eventful than the dinner, with both of them taking a metaphorical step back.

Tonks had been a bit embarrassed at her own forwardness, having not intended to go anywhere near that far. Harry had been much better company than she'd expected him to be and she'd gotten a bit carried away because of it.

Harry had taken the reprieve from her teasing to get his libido under control with some emergency Occlumency. It was harder than he'd expected it to be, as both his body and magic seemed to have gotten used to regular intercourse as a means of dealing with that issue. He suspected that he was going to have a truly epic case of morning wood the next day.

Unless of course he managed to seduce Tonks all the way, but he was honestly not expecting that to happen. She wasn't the type to jump in the sack with him for his money or reputation and he didn't think that she was as easy as Zoe had been either.

Now the movie was over and it was approaching time to go their separate ways.

"I had a good time tonight, even if you did blackmail me into it." Tonks said, opening up the goodbye portion of the date.

"You know you liked my puns better than the paperwork." Harry retorted with a grin.

"That's not saying much, anything is better than paperwork." She shot back.

"Does that mean that you wouldn't be averse to doing this again?" He asked slyly, stepping a bit closer. "You know, just to get your mind off the paperwork."

"I might be open to it, if you agree to lay off the puns." She replied, not moving away despite his obvious intention to kiss her. He'd been a better than average date and certainly deserved it.

"I could do that." Harry agreed and closed in on her lips.

Tonks had assumed that it would be a simple peck on the lips, but Harry was apparently a rather greedy individual as he immediately went for a deep liplock. She might have protested his forwardness if it wasn't for the surge of warmth that suddenly exploded through her body and seemed to crawl slowly down to her groin. It got worse when his hands reached out to squeeze her butt.

Harry was doing more than just kissing her. He was pressing his magic against hers in a manner similar to what he'd done with Fudge, but for an entirely different purpose. Instead of making himself seem more imposing, he was mingling his own desire with that of the woman he was kissing. It was a technique that he'd actually learned from that sex magic guide that Luna had given him, a means of enhancing pleasure by forming a feedback loop between two people. He'd practiced it with Bryanna and Tiana frequently, though in that case it had been used during sex.

The kiss lasted a good deal longer than either intended as they lost themselves in the sensation, but lack of oxygen eventually prevailed and they broke apart.

"Wow." Tonks exhaled, breathing hard and staring at him with heavy lidded dark eyes. That hadn't been an inexperienced kiss. Not at all.

Harry smirked at her reaction, more accustomed to it. "Let's do this again. Soon."

"Yeah." Tonks nodded a bit shakily, trying to ignore the throb of arousal in her loins.

Harry waited for a few moments longer, still holding on to the slim hope that she would suggest that they continue this somewhere more comfortable.

Alas, no such luck. "Well...I'll see you later."

Tonks apparated away with that, her mind on finishing this date with an application of Mr. Purple, her favorite, heavily enchanted dildo. She'd put her Hogwarts education to good use after leaving its hallowed halls.

Harry stood there for a while, biting his lip and reflecting on the double edged nature of establishing an emotional feedback loop. His arm was going to be so sore.

Chapter Text

"I should go." Remus Lupin said awkwardly.

He'd been about to leave the country when he'd seen the Prophet article that claimed his old friend's innocence. Filled with guilt once again for his lack of faith, he'd decided to stay for a little bit longer to see how things would play out.

Then had come Sirius' letter, asking him to come to Potter Manor and keep an old dog company while he was grounded.

He hadn't been able to refuse.

That had been last night, much of which Sirius and he had spent reminiscing and repairing their friendship. He'd spent the night at his friend's insistence despite feeling like an intruder in Harry's home.

Now it was the morning after and the actual owner of the house was present, but saying nothing and resolutely ignoring the both of them as he ate his breakfast.

"You don't have to." Sirius protested, in a nearly canine sort of whine. "Harry's just being cranky over his failure to seduce my cousin."

Harry shot his godfather a look of contempt, a true teenager look that spoke volumes about how lame what he'd just said was. "Shut up, old man. You haven't been with a woman in over twelve years and you're a product of incest on top of it."

"I'm not old!" Sirius insisted, looking incredibly affronted. "And I'll break my dry spell as soon as I can go out, the birds will love the bad boy ex-con image I'll have going for me and I can't help it if my parents were stupid. You can't go using that argument every time you want to shut me down."

The good natured bickering reminded Remus of James and Sirius during their school days so much that it hurt.

"Hmpf." Was Harry's only reply.

"Is it the creepy pedo mustache that Remus has now that's making you so hostile?" Sirius asked in exasperation. "I'll admit that it bothered me too at first, but you get used to it."

"What?" Remus exclaimed, startled. Then he ran his fingers over his facial hair as if to reassure himself (or perhaps it) that it wasn't a pedo mustache.

"No, it has nothing to do with his pedo mustache." Harry said succintly. "I just don't see any reason why I should like him simply on account of his friendship with my parents." He'd given Sirius a chance and the man had jumped at it. Remus had had all the chances he could've asked for and had spent them feeling sorry for himself. "The only reason he's even here is because you wanted to rehash the good old days with someone."

Remus would have dearly liked to remove himself from this situation, clearly seeing that he was a point of contention between Sirius and Harry, even if it seemed like a mild one. Harry's obvious disapproval of his presence made him want to flee.

He wasn't sure if the fact that Harry didn't care about his werewolf status made that sting more or less.

He was just about to make his excuses and leave when the Potter house elf popped in and handed Harry the day's issue of the Daily Prophet.

"You's newspaper, master Harry sir!" Teeny announced.

"Thank you, Teeny." Harry acknowledged, getting a beaming smile from the small house elf before she popped away.

"What does it say?" Sirius asked curiously, seeing the odd expression on Harry's face.

Harry said nothing, merely continued to read for the next couple of minutes before wordlessly handing the newspaper to Sirius.

The Boy-Who-Killed? Harry Potter avenges the betrayal of his parents by killing their betrayer, Peter Pettigrew.

By Rita Skeeter, journalist.



The large headline was accompanied by an animated picture of Harry walking through the Ministry atrium in the company of Fudge, Dumbledore and the two Aurors. Accompanied by the headline, it could be misconstrued as him being arrested.

After yesterday's surprise article portraying a different version of the events that occurred in the final days of the war against You-Know-Who than what has been commonly accepted as truth until now, Harry Potter, aged 13, arrived in the Ministry of Magic to explain himself to the DMLE.

He spoke to Amelia Bones, the head of the DMLE, in the company of Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore, giving more detail to the events first hinted at in yesterday's article.

From then on the article went on to describe a mostly truthful series of facts regarding the altercation between Sirius and Pettigrew after Voldemort's downfall, as well as lambasting Barty Crouch for his overzealous imprisonment of Sirius as well as Pettigrew's twelve years spent as the Weasley's pet rat.

Then things veered somewhat away from the facts and went into sensationalist prose.

The Boy-Who-Lived seemed as if he was carved from stone as he emotionlessly recounted taking Pettigrew's life with a blasting curse, only his eyes burning with remembered fury. His choice of spell was perhaps a deliberate bit of irony, as it was with the use of such a spell that Pettigrew faked his death and framed Sirius Black for his crimes.

Madam Bones was obviously displeased by the way that the law had been taken into the hands of a private citizen, but Potter immediately followed up his confession with the wands of Peter Pettigrew and that of You-Know-Who himself. After presenting these tokens, his claims of self-defense were accepted and Potter was allowed to go without further issue.

"What the fuck?" Sirius exclaimed. "This can't be a DMLE sanctioned press release! It makes you out to be some kind of vigilante that only walked free because you gave them the Dark Tosser's wand as a bribe."

Remus briefly considered remonstrating Sirius for his use of foul language.

"I don't think it is." Harry agreed. "I've read some of Skeeter's articles before. The bitch is about as toxic as your average League of Legends player and seems to get off on putting the worst possible spin on everything she writes."

Remus realized that it would probably be a bad idea to complain about foul language.

"League of Legends?" Sirius echoed in confusion.

"Nevermind." Harry waved off, having an idle thought of getting his technologically impaired godfather to try video gaming. That would probably be funny to watch.

"You're strangely calm about this." Remus dared to venture.

Harry glanced at him with a frown but decided to answer anyway. "The people whose opinions I care about aren't going to change because of this." That wasn't to say that he was happy about it, but what anger he did feel was contained easily enough by his Occlumency.

"That's a very mature outlook." The werewolf complimented.

Harry's frown deepened, unaccountably irritated at being complimented by someone he disliked.

"But we can't just let this go!" Sirius protested. "We need to prank the hell out of her!"

Harry gave his godfather a flat look. "Pranking? Really? What are you, twelve?" He ignored the minor hypocrisy of his rebuke.

"What else if not pranking?" Sirius near demanded. He knew just as well as Harry that Skeeter wouldn't be facing any legal repercussions because of this. The laws about journalistic integrity in Wizarding Britain had more holes in them than Swiss cheese. The only reliable way of making reporters back off was to do it outside the law.

Harry looked at over at the other Marauder sitting at the table again and this time Remus understood that he had definitely overstayed his welcome. Harry clearly didn't want to talk about this any further in his presence.

"I've got to go." The werewolf said, getting up from the table.

"Remus?" Sirius asked, blinking in surprise at the sudden declaration.

"I'll see you around, Sirius." Remus said, not giving his friend a chance to protest as he left.

"Did you notice anything odd about this article?" Harry asked once the werewolf was gone.

Sirius frowned slightly at his godson, wishing that he wasn't so cold to Remus, but went ahead with the subject change anyway.

"You mean aside from how it insinuates that you're a stone cold killer?"

"Yes, aside from that."

Sirius thought about it and reread it, then it finally dawned on him.

"How could she have known what you were talking about in Bones' office? Fudge doesn't strike me as the type to keep a secret, but this reads as if she was in the room with you."

"I felt strange for that whole meeting." Harry admitted. "I kept getting the nagging feeling that there was another person in the room, but I couldn't pin it down and I had to focus on Bones anyway."

"Invisibility cloak?" Sirius hazarded.

Harry considered it for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't think so. She would've had a hard time not bumping into anyone and I'm pretty sure that my magesight could see a regular invisibility cloak just as well as it can my special one."

Sirius was briefly stumped by that before another idea came to mind, this one even closer to home than the invisibility cloak. "An Animagus form! You could've easily missed it if it was small enough."

They'd already determined that Harry's newly gained sensing ability had more trouble picking out details for Sirius in his dog form and the 'size' of his magic also 'shrunk' to match his body. If Skeeter was small enough in her Animagus form, then detecting her could be problematic even for Harry, especially with Amelia Bones commanding his full attention.

"It's a definite possibility."

"She must not be registered. If she was then she'd never have been able to sneak into the DMLE like that." Sirius said, a slow grin growing on his face.

"And failing to register as an Animagus gets you time in Azkaban." Which Harry's cynical mind identified as more proof of the Ministry's obsession with control. Animagi were notoriously difficult to keep track of in their animal forms. "But we can't be sure if she's really an Animagus."

"What else could it be?" Sirius asked with some exasperation.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not make assumptions only to end up being wrong later." Harry retorted snippily.

XXXXX

Over in the DMLE, Aurors scrambled for cover as their boss stormed through, her nostrils flaring like that of an angry bull.

The second day in a row that the Daily Prophet had posted an inflammatory article. First Potter and Black and then that bitch, Skeeter. Both times kicking dirt on her department as a side-effect.

Amelia Bones wasn't the type to curse out loud, but she was sorely tempted just then. Time and again she had proposed adjustments to the law that would hold reporters to a higher standard, but the decrepit old farts on the Wizengamot shot it down every time.

Well of course they did. It would be hard to use the Daily Prophet as a propaganda tool if they were actually required by law to print only the truth.

Unlike Sirius and Harry, Amelia had been dealing with Skeeter's bullshit for a very long time now and didn't even question how the spiteful reporter had gotten her information. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd conjured up some mixture of fact and fiction that had a vague resemblance to the truth and Fudge couldn't keep a secret to save his life anyway. Half the Ministry had been yammering on about rat Animagi and Voldemort's wand within an hour of him leaving the DMLE.

She had intended to release the full details of what she'd learned in a press release the next day, but now she needed to scramble to do damage control. She might not be overly fond of Potter right now, but she wasn't going to let him be painted as a vengeful killer by that sorry excuse for a reporter.

XXXXX

Several hours later, Skeeter's article changed to include important details that she'd previously left out, such as the fact that Pettigrew had tried to draw his wand first and that Harry didn't simply kill him as revenge for his parents, but the damage had already been done and the general public opinion of Harry Potter was no longer of some kind of messianic figure that could do no wrong.

Harry saw the change in the paper and knew that it wasn't going to fix the damage that the original article had done, but was not overly concerned with the consequences. Yes, he'd learned to make use of his reputation instead of being irritated by it and would have preferred for the knowledge of his killing Pettigrew to be kept as quiet as possible, but he hadn't honestly expected to stay on that same saintly pedestal after this anyway. The reputation of the Boy-Who-Lived had become so inflated that it would never have survived a meeting with reality, it was always going to be something of a one-shot. Granted, Skeeter's poisonous slant probably did more damage than would have happened otherwise, but probably not as much as she'd hoped for.

The DMLE dropped by twice more in the following days to talk to both him and Sirius again, then his godfather was declared a free man. It all seemed rather rushed, for which Harry figured he had Fudge to thank. They'd even dug Sirius' wand out of Azkaban's storage and returned it to him.

That took care of the biggest thing he had to do for the summer, which still left him with the two OWLs he had to pass, figuring out the legal details of the business he was helping Bryanna and Tiana start up, talking to the former managers of the Potter business interests that had since been taken over by the Parkinsons and most recently, another date with Tonks.

He was looking forward to the latter most of all. He hadn't expected to find himself liking the Metamorphagus Auror to this degree considering his general dislike of the Ministry, but he did. Her naturally cheerful disposition was a stark contrast to his more stoic leanings and he couldn't help but find himself interested. He'd had a similar experience with Zoe, but his muggle friend with benefits had made it clear that she wasn't looking for anything serious and her lack of magic honestly made anything more than their casual arrangement more problematic than he was willing to deal with.

Come to think of it, that might be why he'd gotten along with Sirius so easily too. His godfather somehow managed to be in a good mood most of the time despite his life being best described as 'a field of crap with a few flowers breaking through the shit'. He had to respect the man's determination to enjoy life in spite of everything and the fact that he treated Harry like an adult didn't hurt either.

Harry knew himself to be somewhat frustrating as a friend. He could talk to people yes, but he also liked his alone time and he loathed it when someone tried to tell him how he should live. His early childhood was characterized by the Dursleys hatred, bullying by other children and later having his social interactions scripted out by Robert and Katherine, leaving him with little patience for pushy people.

His short lived friendship with Ginny had fallen apart as much because of her silly crush as it had because she couldn't understand that. Unfair perhaps to expect that kind of thing from a preteen girl, especially when she didn't know the circumstances, but life wasn't fair.

Luna understood though, or maybe that was just how she was. Luna never complained about his penchant for keeping things to himself or his disappearances when he wanted to practice his magic in secrecy, never tried to make him talk about it, never tried to tell him that he should be anything other than himself. Harry considered himself fortunate to have a friend like her, as he strongly suspected that he'd have spent his entire time at Hogwarts alone without her and first year had taught him that he wasn't so anti-social that he could be happy living in constant solitude. Enough to push people away though.

The other students were nice enough, but he simply had trouble relating to them. Even Bryanna and Tiana had only stuck around primarily for the gold and later for the sex, once he'd gotten good enough at it. For all that they were on good terms, he had no doubt that they would have drifted away if their plans for the future didn't hinge on a continued association with him. Harry had gotten very good at keeping people at arm's length without even meaning to.

He found himself hoping that Tonks would be another person that he could manage to really connect with. He wouldn't be surprised if not, but he would be disappointed. She was the first witch aside from Luna that he was looking forward to actually getting to know and not just sleeping with.

XXXXX

"One of the hardest parts of becoming an Animagus is finding your animal form." Sirius was saying. "It will almost certainly be an animal that you share characteristics with, but finding out which ones is the problem. You don't have much of a choice in the matter either and some people don't like what it says about them."

"I imagine that Pettigrew wasn't too pleased with his form." Harry guessed.

"You'd be right about that." Sirius laughed harshly, his resentment of his former friend still clear. "It took him the longest out of all of us to first transform. Since you mentioned Wormtail, there's another thing you should know about becoming an Animagus. It will change you, not in a way that would be instantly obvious, but it will change you. A lot of people that could have become Animagi choose not to because of this, aside from the other dangers that is."

"How did it change you and the others?" Harry asked, very interested in that bit and less so in the dangers. He was sure that Sirius would get around to mentioning those soon enough.

"It's hard to say for sure, but some of the animal instinct carries over. For one thing, I think that both James and I became a bit more vigorous in our pursuit of the ladies after our first transformation."

Harry snorted at the diplomatic phrasing.

Sirius pretended he hadn't heard it. "James also became a good bit more territorial about your mother and went after Snape any time he approached her."

Harry frowned at that, vaguely recalling some information from his non-magical schooling about male deer forming harems instead of mating for life.

"How long did you and my dad go around seducing girls anyway?" He asked.

Sirius looked at him oddly but answered anyway. "James stopped towards the end of sixth year when he started getting a bit desperate to win your mother over. I never stopped."

Ah, so he'd subconsciously been trying to form a harem, but had shaken it off in order to get the one he really wanted. And dogs were of course polygamous, so Sirius' aversion to a dedicated relationship would have only been increased. That fit with a few other distinctly canine characteristics that Harry had noticed about his godfather.

"Alright, how do I find my inner animal?" Harry asked with a smile.

"It should be familiar to you from your Occlumency training and is really the only part of learning how to be an Animagus that is completely safe." Sirius explained. His own Occlumency was crap, only good enough to detect intrusions, but he could see the parallels. "Not the same though. You're not looking to clear your mind and stop thinking this time. You need to sort of sink into your magic and let it show you what your inner animal is. It'll be something that you're familiar with, but don't make any assumptions or you'll throw the whole thing off. Once you manage it, you might get a mental impression or even a vision of being that animal. You'll have to keep doing this until you're absolutely certain which one it is."

A few minutes of instruction later, Sirius left Harry alone to try it.

His Occlumency both helped and hindered him in this, but mostly helped. He was already familiar with meditation and more than aware enough of his own magic to do it, but he had some trouble not blanking out his mind on instinct.

A few hours later, he came back to himself with a gasp, a dazed smile on his face but his mind still on the waking vision he'd just had. Of looking down at the world from the sky and gliding through the air on black feathered wings.

Corvus corax. The common raven. He supposed that his Patronus should have been a hint since he had called the guardian from within himself. He'd already read up on them a bit thanks to that, but he was going to study the species in a lot more detail now.

XXXXX

"Blimey, you know your form already?" Sirius asked with considerable shock when he was told. "Are you sure that you know it? Absolutely sure?"

"Yes." Harry replied, a bit exasperated.

"Don't take that tone with me, young man." Sirius said sternly, but couldn't quite keep a proud grin off his face. "If you rush into this thinking that your animal form is something else than what it really is, you could drive yourself mad or even die. Wouldn't be the first wizard it happened to because they were impatient."

"Like the Marauders?"

"Exactly like us. In retrospect, it's a minor miracle that none of us died or lost our minds."

"I'm still on the fence about your sanity, but I get your point and I'll be careful. I really am sure of my form though."

"That must be some kind of record." Sirius commented, letting the jibe about his sanity go. It wasn't the first time that someone had cast aspersions on it. "It took us months just to get our first success and months more before we could be sure of our forms."

"None of you were Occlumancers." Harry pointed out, not mentioning how his rituals and wandless practice had left uniquely him aware of his own magic. "And you were younger than me when you started, not to mention less amazing. Did you know that ravens are among the most intelligent animals alive?"

"Ha bloody ha." Sirius deadpanned.

"So, what now?"

"You'll need to, for lack of a better term, turn yourself inside out."

"You mean like....become an animal with an inner wizard instead of a wizard with an inner animal?"

"That's it exactly. Your human mind is obviously a lot stronger than an animal's instinct, so you'll retain most of your rationality."

"Most?"

"You might get some odd urges on occassion."

"Sirius, does the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black have canine heirs wandering the world?"

"Piss off, Harry."

"I'm sorry." The younger wizard apologized, not sounding very sorry at all. "What else do I have to do?"

"In the old days, wizards would spend years or even decades observing the animal they were trying to turn into, to become as familiar with them as possible. You'll still need to do that, but thanks to the wonders of the modern age, you can get most of the needed information from a book."

"Who needs books when you have Wikipedia?"

"What's a Wikipedia?"

"I'll show you later." Harry was also wondering if watching YouTube videos of ravens counted as observation. He couldn't see any reasons why it wouldn't, but it might be best to find some wild ravens just to be on the safe side.

"Right." Sirius said with a nod, having no clue whatsoever what his godson was talking about. Probably some muggle thing. He'd considered himself quite knowledgeable on the Muggle World at one point, but he was waking up to the fact that it had become nigh on unrecognizable since the last time he'd ventured into it. The basics were still the same of course , but a lot of the things that Harry sometimes mentioned as if they were common knowledge flew right over his head.

XXXXX

With Sirius now being a free man, an opportunity presented itself to do something that Harry had wanted to do for some time.

"Do we really have to do this?" Sirius whined.

"Yes." Harry stated firmly.

"Couldn't we just burn it instead?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"No."

"But-!"

"Sirius, we are going into that house. If you hate it that much, we can sell it after we pilfer everything of worth from it."

"Not burn it?"

"If you want to set it on fire that much, then sell it to Malfoy first. Or Parkinson. Actually no, that's probably a bad idea even if we torch the place right after."

Sirius sighed the sigh of the resigned. "Alright, let's get this over with."

With heavy steps, the dog Animagus walked towards the front door of Nr. 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry looked around curiously as they entered. The large townhouse was smaller than Potter Manor and the hallways more narrow. In fact, the whole place gave off an oppresive feeling of gloom. According to Dorea, the Blacks had once had a manor house in the country as well, but for reasons unknown, one of the past Lords Black had torn it down and appropriated this place from its previous non-magical residents. And by appropriated, Dorea had meant stolen.

They didn't get far before they were accosted by a portrait of woman that looked as if she had spent her entire life sucking on lemons.

"Ah, so the prodigal son returns." She said, trying to look superior but only managing constipation in Harry's humble opinion. "And who is this you've brought with you? What family is he from?"

"What's with the friendly attitude, mum?" Sirius asked bluntly, packing a lot of scorn into the last word. "Last time I saw you, you were shrieking at my grandfather to cast me out of the family."

"I heard that you've learned the error of your ways since then, turning your back on that blood traitor Potter and his filthy mudblood wife and leading the Dark Lord to them." Sirius' mother answered, her demeanor darkening slightly at the disrespect.

"I hate to disappoint you," Sirius began sarcastically. "but I was framed. I've just been cleared of all charges and am once again known as a muggle loving blood traitor to the world at large."

Could paintings have aneurysms? Harry felt sure that Sirius mother had just had one.

"YOU FILTH! HOW DARE YOU RETURN TO SULLY THIS HOUSE! KREACHER! KREACHER!"

Ye gods, he'd thought that Sirius had been exaggerating when he'd described his mother. No such luck though. If anything, the man had somehow managed to understate it despite making her out to be the most horrid woman in the world.

"No wonder you wanted to burn the place down." Harry commented as the portrait of Walburga Black went on a shireking diatribe about......something. It wasn't very coherent, but it did involve a lot of screaming about blood traitors and mudbloods.

Sirius' potential reply was cut off when a decrepit looking house elf popped in, glaring at them with a viciousness that Harry had honestly not thought the little creatures capable of.

"Filthy blood traitor master has come back." Kreacher said scornfully, barely heard over the portrait's continued yelling. "Kreacher will throw you out."

"No, you won't" Sirius said flatly. "I own this house now."

"FILTH! SHAME TO THE FAMILY!"

Kreacher's face twisted with fury as the truth of the words sank in. The wards had already transferred to Sirius, so he would now have to obey the master that he hated.

"First, I want you to take that thing's portrait down and burn it." Sirius went on contemptously, much to the increased rage of his mother.

"Kreacher cannot." The house elf said gleefully. "Mistress is permanently stuck to wall."

"Then take down the wall." Sirius growled.

"GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!"

"If Kreacher did that, the house would collapse. Stupid master." Kreacher sneered.

Harry rolled his eyes in exasperation at the situation, starting to develop a headache from the portrait's screaming.

"Can you brick her up then?" He asked. He wasn't at all convinced that the Sticking Charm couldn't be dismantled, but it would be quite a feat to concentrate on doing that with the painted harpy's constant yelling

Kreacher's mouth snapped shut and he glared at Harry mutinously, refusing to answer.

"Answer him!" Sirius snapped.

"Yeeeees." Kreacher growled unwillingly through clenched teeth.

"Then do it." Sirius ordered, now grinning at having a solution to the problem.

"Kreacher has no bricks." The house elf said sullenly.

"Oh, don't worry. I'll get you all the bricks you'll need."

"DISHONOR! DISHONOR ON THE FAMILY!"

XXXXX

"Lovely woman, your mother." Harry commented as they walked towards the library.

"Isn't she just?" Sirius asked sarcastically. "I'd almost forgotten the pounding headache that her diatribes gave me."

"What's with the house elf though?"

"Kreacher? He's always been a spiteful little bastard, but I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He's never been allowed to leave Grimmauld Place and had nothing to listen to except my family's rants on blood purity."

"A bigoted house elf, now I've seen everything." Harry said with amusement as they entered the library.

"Speaking of seeing everything, are you sure you should be looking at some of these books?" Sirius asked nervously. He was not at all sanguine about his godson reading up on some of the stuff he knew was in there.

"You worry too much, Sirius." Harry waved off. "I've got no interest in sacrificing virgins or performing divination from someone's spilled intestines. I'm much more interested in the theory than the practical applications."

"You know, by all rights I should be forbidding you from coming anywhere near these books until I've had a chance to throw out the worst of them." Sirius commented wryly.

"But you won't because you're the best godfather ever."

"And you'd be pissy about it if I did."

"Knowledge is neither good nor evil, so yes, I would indeed be pissy if you discarded it."

"Fine." Sirius said, tossing his hands skyward. "I'll go find Kreacher some bricks, thanks for that idea by the way, and you can browse the books. Just avoid the cursed ones."

"Who curses their own books anyway?" Harry suddenly asked. "That sounds like a spectacularly bad idea."

"I told you that my family was nuts." Sirius shrugged.

Harry was left alone after that, Sirius trusting that Harry's magesight and caution would keep him from running afoul the cursed books. He simply browsed the titles for a while, waiting for something to catch his eye.

Not all of the tomes were filled with morally(and no doubt legally) dubious magic, quite a few of them he'd actually already encountered in either Hogwarts or Potter Manor. He wasn't interested in those though. He would never have a proper understanding of magic if he confined himself only to comfortable topics.

Ten minutes of browsing later, he'd found a tome that detailed the process of using the ritualistic sacrifice of other wizards, witches or powerful magical creatures to power large scale spells, wards or other magics. It was grim and sometimes downright ghastly reading, but it was also very interesting.

XXXXX

"This is the best side of my mother that I've ever seen." Sirius said proudly, looking at the brand new brick wall sitting incongruously in the hallway. From behind it, only blessed silence could be heard, which was only natural since it was enchanted to block sound from going in either direction.

"You're a real son of a bitch, Sirius." Harry noted, book on morally reprehensible magic in hand.

"I know, I've even got the right initals. Sirius Orion Black, also known as Son Of a Bitch."

"Bad master insulting mistress." Kreacher complained, much subdued due to the moral quandary of being forced to brick up his beloved mistress.

"You think that's bad, just wait until we start looting the place." Harry replied blandly. He generally did his best to be polite to house elves, but Kreacher was quite simply a pain in the ass.

"NO! Kreacher will not let you!" The house elf shrieked, getting ready to fight in defense of House Black.

"Yes you will." Sirius countermanded, more than happy to allow his godson to ransack the family home if he wanted to. He was already intending to designate him the Heir to House Black, so it would all be his eventually anyway. "Now go away."

Kreacher stalked off as ordered, bemoaning the ill fortune that had befallen House Black now that it had a blood traitor as its Lord.

XXXXX

"Hello, what's this?" Harry said softly, staring at a heavy looking golden locket inlaid with emeralds in a serpentine pattern.

The locket felt very similar to how he remembered the soul shard in his head feeling, and there was a seductive whisper of a powerful and subtle compulsion reaching out from it as well.

This was, to put it bluntly, Bad. Capitalized. Not so much the item itself as the implications of it.

"Strange, I don't remember seeing that one before." Sirius said, also staring at the locket. The compulsion was trying to grab hold of him just as much as it tried for Harry, but Sirius knew perfectly well how dangerous it was to touch unknown objects in Grimmauld Place.

"I think it belonged to Voldemort." Harry said, grabbing his wand and transfiguring a nearby item into a long metal pole with a hook on one end.

Sirius started in surprise, staring at his godson. "You're sure?"

"Pretty sure. It has the same feel to it as the thing I pushed out during my last ritual." Harry confirmed and gave the pole to Sirius.

"What are you thinking, Harry?" Sirius asked warily.

"I'm thinking that if Voldie is going to be handing out pieces of his soul like candy, then who am I to refuse such a gift?" Harry said wryly.

"This isn't something you should be playing with." Sirius said sharply.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, I know that it's dangerous." Harry retorted. "But you're missing the point. That thing is some kind of phylactery, which means that the Dark Moron is still not fully dead. I thought that the thing inside me was some kind of fluke, but this is the third one I've come across and I'm starting to suspect that it isn't going to be the last."

"So how do we destroy it?" Sirius asked, eager to get rid of it.

"Basilisk venom did the trick last time and I do have some in stock, but we're not going to destroy it."

"What do you mean 'we're not going to destroy it'?" Sirius demanded. "What possible use could you have for a piece of Voldemort's soul?"

"At the moment? None. But I find it hard to believe that I won't be able to do anything at all with it, there is just no way that having a piece of your soul in enemy hands could be a good idea. Now use that pole I gave you and let's drop that thing into my Bag of Holding."

"I still don't understand why you insist on calling your Mokeskin Pouch by that silly name."

"And I still haven't learned what the bloody hell a moke is. At least 'Bag of Holding' is a descriptive name."

"Don't try to distract me with your logic, it doesn't work on wizards. I still say we should destroy it right away."

"Damnit, Sirius, I have no desire whatsoever to end up being a prophesized Chosen One destined to beat Voldemort because some cracked Seer made a prophecy fourteen years ago. I might be able to use this thing to track down any others before the Dark Moron manages to crawl his way back to life and starts causing problems again. He's going to be in one hell of a snit over having his world domination scheme threatened and then fouled up by a baby and I'd really rather not deal with that."

"Well, when you put it that way....."

By the time that Kreacher returned to Grimmauld Place, the locket that Regulus had entrusted him with was long since gone. There was much house elven wailing and gnashing of teeth as a result.

XXXXX

Staring at the locket that had so abruptly made his life an order of magnitude more complicated, Harry scowled.

He'd thought that Voldemort was dead and gone in second year when his diary was destroyed, because he'd asumed that it had been like a D&D phylactery and held the entire soul. Then he'd learned that a soul could break and found another piece of Voldemort inside of him, but he'd still thought that it must have been some kind of freak occurence as a result of his mother's sacrifice.

Now he had a third and was no longer willing to assume it was the last. That fucking prophecy was really trying to turn his life into some kind of big dramatic struggle against the forces of evil. He just wanted to learn magic and see what things were like outside of Europe, maybe with some particular female company along for the ride. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently so, because Dumbledore's interest in him and his subtly manipulative actions were finally making some sense in light of the fact that Voldemort was still out there somewhere. The old man was trying to play the Secretive-As-Fuck-But-Trust-Me-Because-I'm-The-Wise-Mentor angle to his Chosen Champion. He'd probably get himself dramatically killed halfway through it too, leaving the half-prepared protagonist, in this case Harry himself, to clean up his mess. That seemed to be the norm in these situations anyway.

Dumbledore was seriously trying to pull an Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Well bugger that. No way was Harry letting some old fart that thought he knew best dictate his life.

This locket might be the key to finding what other soul anchors Voldemort had and destroying them before he could come back. He certainly didn't want to deal with a fully restored and probably very pissed off Dark Lord.

Of course, the problem here was that Harry's knowledge about souls was very limited. Judging by his own experiences, souls became damaged by sufficiently traumatic events and healed over time. His rage driven murder of Pettigrew had damaged him and that damage had repaired itself to a degree as time passed, but never back to the unblemished state it had been in before.

How that translated to creating a phylactery, he had no idea. Harry suspected that he would need that knowledge before he achieved anything. He would still see what he could find out without it, but like the diary, the locket seemed to have some kind of sentience, which made it dangerous to be around. He was not interested in being possessed.

He wouldn't be getting anything more done today in any case. His much anticipated second date with Tonks was approaching and he wasn't going to reschedule it simply because he'd just found out that Voldemort was still not-dead. The locket could wait a little longer.

XXXXX

This time it was Harry who found himself arriving to the designated meeting spot early. He'd gotten impatient and apparated out of the manor almost half an hour too soon, much to Sirius' poorly concealed amusement.

There was no helping it though, he'd simply been too eager and too nervous. The first date that he'd badgered the shapeshifting Auror into had no real expectations attached to it, but he'd developed a genuine liking for Tonks that had nothing to do with her good looks and the potential sex games that her special talent would allow.

All of his forays into intimacy with females so far had involved very little in the way of an actual emotional connection(aside from lust), which made this nerve wracking in a whole new way. He was acutely aware of the age discrepancy between him and Tonks and didn't want her to back off because of it, which meant that he couldn't give her any reason to think that she should. The Wizarding World might have a strange 'if-I-don't-think-about-it-then-it's-not-a-problem' mentality in regards to quite a few things, including age, but that would only go so far. This was even more of an issue with Tonks because she was not only part of the DMLE's elite law enforcement corps and had a reputation to maintain, but also because her father was a muggleborn and likely had some pretty strong opinions about certain wizarding practices. He knew that she'd enjoyed their first date, but she would probably break it off if it gave her issues at work or in her family.

Harry was not really the sort to develop silly crushes for no reason and his early forays into sexuality had only made it more unlikely, but he was just as vulnerable to falling prey to his own interests as anyone else. Thus, he had plotted out a plan of attack for getting Tonks to return that interest as quickly and as surely as possible, all the while avoiding any pitfalls that might cause her to decide that he was more trouble than he was worth. This had all happened without him really intending to be so calculating about it.....it had just sort of happened while he was laying in bed.

A smile came to his face when Tonks eventually arrived. She was dressed similarly to the last time, the only notable differences being that this time she had a purple tank top and pink hair. And a bra. She hadn't worn one the last time. That probably meant that she wasn't going to poke him with her extendable nipples again. Too bad.

"Wotcher." She greeted with her usual good cheer. "Been waiting long?"

"Not at all, I just got here." Harry lied courteously. There was literally no benefit to telling her that he'd been standing here for half an hour already. "So, where are we going? You were pretty vague about that." It had been decided that she would pick the venue this time.

"You'll see." She said vaguely. "Just take my hand, grasshopper, and I'll show you."

"That was a horrible misquote." Harry complained, but took her hand anyway.

"Ah shut up, you haven't seen the movie it came from any more than I have." Tonks retorted.

"That's not the point. The point is that you mangled a perfectly good quote." Harry insisted.

Neither one was aware that the original quote was not actually from a movie.

Tonks didn't deign to respond and simply apparated them to the destination.

Harry stared in bemusement at what he presumed was their destination, the apparition having deposited them in a secluded spot some ways of. "An amusement park? We're going to an amusement park?"

"Yes." Tonks said firmly. "And if you do't like amusement parks, then tough, because we're still going."

"I have no strong feelings one way or the other in regards to amusement parks." Harry droned blandly. "I've never been to one."

"What do you mean you've never been to one?" She demanded, scandalized. "Didn't you say that your foster parents are muggle and rich? What kind of people are they that they wouldn't take you to an amusement park at least once?"

"I can already imagine their response to the idea." Harry replied wryly and then adopted a snobbish air. "Why would you want to go to one of these....things? Amusement parks are the pastime of the unwashed masses."

Tonks laughed at the impression, but inwardly felt a bit sorry for him. That sounded kind of similar to the stories that her mother had told her about growing up in the Black family, minus the rants on mudbloods and blood purity.

"Well then I guess it's up to me to show you the ropes." She said decisively, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the noisy and brightly lit area.

"I place myself in your capable hands." It wasn't something that he would have chosen to do by himself, nor did he think that he'd like the crowds and the noise, but the overall experience should be fun as long as she was there.

XXXXX

While Tonks was showing Harry the proper way to experience an amusement park, Sirius and Remus were having a more somber get-together in the Hog's Head. Sirius had wanted to go to the Three Broomsticks and maybe flirt with Rosmerta for old time's sake, but Remus had been reluctant to go there so quickly after having his werewolf status made known to the general public. Sirius had agreed after seeing the looks aimed not only at his friend but also at him. Apparently getting cleared by the DMLE wasn't enough to fully erase twelve years of everyone thinking that he was a notorious mass murderer.

"Don't worry about it, Remus, I'm sure Harry will warm up to you soon enough." The dog Animagus was saying.

Remus sighed at his friend's unwarranted optimism. "No, Sirius, I don't think he will. I don't blame him for it either. I certainly wouldn't be too fond of me if I was in his shoes."

"You're being too hard on yourself." Sirius chided. Remus had always been prone to brooding.

Remus withheld a grimace. If only that were true, but he knew that Harry was fully justified to dislike him. He'd acted like nothing more than a distant acquaintance of James and Lily and now he was being treated like one. No more than he deserved really, but Sirius was clearly having trouble understanding it, mired as he was in nostalgia.

"So what is Harry up to now?" He asked. He had no more hope of establishing a close relationship with the son of his dead friends, but he could still ask about him.

"He's on a date with Andromeda's girl." Sirius chuckled. "Precocious little scamp is better than James or I ever were at getting a girl to agree to a date. We were on Madam Bones' shit list but he goes right up to one of her Aurors and asks her out."

Remus didn't really know Andromeda Tonks, having only mer her once and rather briefly at that. She had been sympathetic to the Order during the war with Voldemort, but not a member. He did remember a cute Metamorphagus daughter that had scowled when she'd been introduced by her given name though.

"Isn't she in her twenties?" He inquired carefully. That meeting had been quite some time before Harry's birth.

"So?" Sirius shrugged.

Remus let it go. He didn't think it was very appropriate for a full grown woman to be going on dates with a boy Harry's age, but he knew that his opinion wouldn't be welcome. James and Sirius had gleefully taken advantage of the Wizarding World's laxity about age appropriate relationships.

"I was more interested in how his studies are going." He said instead.

"Good, great even. He's a smart kid and loves learning magic." Sirius made no mention of Harry's extra-curricular study. He felt that Remus could be trusted with the information, but Harry didn't and there was no denying that it would be bad if it got out that the Boy-Who-Lived was looking into dark magic. Sirius trusted Harry not to go off the deep end, but the rest of the sheep or the Ministry wouldn't be so reasonable.

His godson's cynicism was rubbing off on him.

They went into safer areas of conversation after that. Their friendship was still in some need of repair before it would be back to the state it had been in during their Hogwarts days.

XXXXX

"Heh, I never would have figured you for an adrenaline junkie." Tonks said with a wry grin.

Sitting next to her on a bench with one arm around her shoulders, Harry smirked back. "I may not like Quidditch, but I have always liked flying." He wondered if that had anything to do with his Animagus form. "Were you hoping that some of those rides would scare me?"

"Yes." Tonks pouted. "I wanted to hear high pitched screams of terror, but all I got was laughter."

"So sorry to have disappointed you, Dora." He replied with amusement.

"Dora?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"It seemed weird to be calling you by your last name all the time." Harry shrugged.

Tonks gave it some thought before nodding. She could deal with being called Dora. The first part of her name was much more objectionable. "Alright, you can call me Dora."

"You're so kind." He said faux demurely.

They lapsed into a short silence, which Harry spent slowly mingling his magic with hers. She was a powerful witch and an interesting person. He felt as if he could spend days just doing this without a word being spoken and still know her better at the end of it than any amount of conversation would allow.

She shifted a bit and pressed closer to him with a content exhale of air. Harry's lips twitched into a smile.

He'd only tried this with Bryanna and Tiana post coitus before, and with Luna in their quieter moments when they just sat together. It was a shame that magicals had either forgotten or never learned how to properly do this. As far as being comfortable with other people went, he doubted that there was anything that could beat it.

Of course, he doubted that it would work with anyone that you didn't already like, but there wasn't any reason to be doing this with someone you didn't like anyway.

The very comfortable atmosphere was broken by the text message alert on his phone, causing Harry to huff with some irritation at the interruption. Dora's presence had tensed slightly at the noise, but not enough to expel him.

"What was that?" She asked curiously.

"Probably either Robert or Katherine being annoying." He grumbled and awkwadrly pulled the phone out of his pocket, unwilling to let go of his date's shoulder.

As it turned out, the message was not from either of his foster parents, but from Zoe.

"Want 2 cum over?" Tonks read, amusement coloring her tone, but her magic snapping out of its relaxed state into something much sharper. The gentle empathic connection he'd created broke and even her hair darkened slightly towards red.

Harry winced. He hadn't contacted Zoe at all this summer, either because he'd been too busy or because he was more interested in his current date. Apparently she was feeling randy and had decided to take the initiative. Usually something he wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of, but it was damned inconvenient right now.

"Zoe is a muggle girl I met last summer." He started explaining. "We have a 'friends with benefits' sort of arrangement."

"I see." She said neutrally. "You going to take her up on it?"

"Of course not." Harry denied instantly. Zoe might be pretty, fun and a simple way of relieving tension over the summer, but that was all she was. She might have been more if the circumstances were different, but they weren't. "That's only if both of us are single."

He conveniently ignored that Zoe had technically not been single last year and probably wasn't this one either. That was her problem.

Tonks gave him a scrutinizing look for a few moments, thinking about it. She couldn't honestly be upset about something that had happened before they'd even met. Realistically speaking, she probably had little enough business getting upset even if he did decide to boff this 'friend with benefits' of his, seeing as this was barely their second date.

She was still feeling a bit territorial though. Yes, getting romantically involved with the Boy-Who-Lived would no doubt bring up quite a few problems from both her job and her parents(or her father at any rate), but damnit, she liked him. She hadn't had a decent boyfriend since that little adventure with Charlie Weasley in seventh year and that was just sad considering the fact that he would have probably liked her better if she had scales and breathed fire, literally.

Harry was young, very young. Far younger than she would have been willing to look for potential boyfriends under most circumstances. If he hadn't gone after her first, she would never have even considered it. Men tended to be immature enough even when they were older than her.

But he didn't look or act his age and the pickings were slim enough that she was willing to go along with it despite her misgivings. She'd been planning to just let things progress as they would and see what happened, but it looked like she was going to need to stake a claim. A twenty-one year old woman of her good looks, personality and talents should not be having such an abyssmal social life and she wasn't letting perfectly good boyfriend material get away simply because he was a bit on the young side. She might have been more hesitant if he'd been completely green, but that message and his explanation made it clear that he'd been sexually active for at least a year already. Though now that she thought about it, she probably should have guessed as much on their first date to begin with.

"Oh? Does that mean that you consider yourself spoken for?" She challenged, pretending that she hadn't just spent the past few seconds making him sweat with her stare.

"I did place myself into your hands." Harry reminded her, nervousness dissipating as he felt her magic settle down a bit.

"That's true." The Metamorphagus conceded. "I wonder what I should do now that I have you in my hands?"

"Please be gentle." He quipped.

She surprised him by pulling herself over until she was straddling his lap and leaning in to whisper into his ear. "But what if I don't want to be gentle?"

Harry shivered slightly, both at the feel of her breath tickling his ear and in arousal at having her so close. His hands reached out to grab her hips almost by themselves, just as his magic reached towards hers reflexively.

"I might have to lodge a complaint about Auror brutality." He countered, squeezing her hips and leaning forward to kiss her.

Tonks didn't bother to reply, instead just kissing him and groaning in pleasure as she felt the same heat spreading through her as she'd felt at their first kiss. She felt the bulge of his erection pressing up against her in short order and decided to grind her butt against it more firmly.

This time it was Harry who groaned. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea to torture himself with a magical feedback loop again?

Ah screw it.

With that resolution, he pressed his hand to the small of her back and pressed down, bringing her even closer and sending a stream of stimulating magic into her nerves. He felt her shudder at the invading magic, but instead of rejecting it, the intensity of her kiss only increased.

"You go, girl!" A drunken sound of female enthusiasm came, causing Tonks to jerk out of the kiss.

Both of them breathing heavily, they looked around for the source of the yell and quickly noticed a group of tipsy looking teenagers giving them a thumbs up.

Bemused and not sure what else to do, Harry returned the thumbs up despite being a bit annoyed by the interruption.

"Still want to lodge a complaint about Auror brutality?" Tonks asked when the giggly group of teens moved on.

"You can brutalize me anytime." Harry smirked, still gently rubbing his fingers into the small of her back.

"Now there's a tempting offer, but the paperwork would be horrible." She sighed and slid back into place next to him, much to Harry's disappointment.

"That bad?" He asked, going along with the subject change into cooler waters even though he wanted nothing more than to get her in bed right now.

"You have no idea." She groaned dramatically. "I thought being an Auror was going to be all about action and catching the bad guys, but I spend most of my days filing reports for inappropriate prank spells or illegal Portkeys or something."

"That's what you get for selling your soul to the Black Order of Bureaucracy." Harry said unsympathetically.

Tonks burst out laughing at his name for the Ministry, which she had to admit was appropriate at times. "Not going to get a Ministry job when you graduate then?"

"Not a chance." Harry snorted.

"What are you going to do then?" She asked curiously.

"I was thinking of travelling a bit and seeing the world." He admitted.

"That sounds nice."

There was a moment of silence and Harry was seized by the sudden urge to ask her to quit her job and come with him. He wasn't that impulsive though and abandoned the idea as being premature. He could always ask later, once they knew each other better, which was something that he had high hopes for.

"Aren't Aurors the DMLE's elite though?" He asked instead, backtracking a bit. "Shouldn't the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol be dealing with all that small stuff?"

"They do." Tonks grumbled. "Thing is, Bones doesn't get along too well with Fudge or his backers and our esteemed Minister is worried that she wants to replace him, so any time that the Ministry needs to make a budget cut, we're the ones who take the hit."

"And now the DMLE is so understaffed and underfunded that even Aurors have to deal with the small stuff." Harry finished.

"That's about the size of it." Tonks confirmed. "And speaking of work, I should probably go home. I've got the morning shift tomorrow."

"And I've got my Ancient Runes OWL." Harry added, easily hiding his diappointment that the date was over. On the upside, he had the sense that his relationship with the pretty Metamorphagus had now gone beyond that 'maybe/maybe not' stage where nobody could say whether they were together or not. "Want me to come visit while I'm there?"

"Might be better if you didn't." Tonks admitted. "Bones and Scrimgeour aren't too fond of personal visits during work hours."

"Alright." Harry consented easily. "But only if you agree to go on another date with me."

"So that's how it is? I go out with you or you'll get me in trouble with the boss?" Tonks asked teasingly, inwardly very relieved that he was being mature about the no visits thing while she was working. A couple of her past attempts at a relationship had gotten a bit shirty about that, though in that case it had still been training rather than working. Moody had been even less tolerant of 'emotional hogwash' getting in the way of CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

"Damn straight." Harry confirmed. "If you don't agree, you might find me paying the DMLE another visit and lurking over your shoulder while you try to do paperwork."

"I guess I've got no choice then." Tonks sighed theatrically. "With you twisting my arm like that, i'll just have to put up with you for a bit longer."

"You'll get used to me." Harry chuckled and leaned over to steal another kiss.

Though a bit surprised, she quickly started to respond and almost gave in to the urge to climb back into his lap by the time they broke apart.

"I should go." She said softly, biting her lower lip as she stared into his bright green eyes.

Harry nodded and escorted her to a secluded spot that she could apparate away from.

"I'll be in touch." He said once they arrived and gave in to the urge to give her lips another quick peck. "Goodnight, Dora."

"Goodnight, Harry."

Harry stared wistfully at the empty spot where she'd been standing just a moment ago.

"Nice going Potter, first you decide to avoid serious relationships and then barely a week later you get infatuated with an Auror that will probably be obligated to arrest you if she finds out about some of the things you're doing." He muttered to himself. "That's pure genius right there."

Sighing, he pulled out his phone again and stared at the message from Zoe. As had happened on the last date with the Metamorphagus, he was horny as hell. Unlike the last time, he had a girl that would be more than willing to help him with that.

Instead of accepting, he sent her a reply to let her know that he wasn't going to be available for any more fun in the foreseeable future. Getting into a relationship with Tonks was dangerous beyond doubt, but then again, he had developed a bad habit of doing dangerous things ever since he'd entered the Wizarding World.

XXXXX

Appearing inside her flat, Tonks let out a deep breath and began pulling off her clothes in preparation for a shower.

She'd very nearly invited Harry to come with her back there, seven years younger than her or not. It was sometimes hard to remember his age when he didn't look or react like a boy in his early teens. It didn't help that she felt so comfortable with him or that his kisses made her want to stick her hands down his pants.

She had seen the same desire in his face plain as day and if he kept being so damned attractive, she might just have to do exactly that. She'd never been particularly uncomfortable with her sexuality anyway, even if she didn't drop her knickers on the first date.

But for now, Mr. Purple would be pressed back into service.

Chapter Text

"So, how did your exam go?" Sirius asked once Harry got back from the Ministry.

"Easier than I expected. Professor Babbling must have really wanted me to get an Outstanding, because I was overprepared." Harry replied. Of course, thanks to Da'Roir and his constant Occlumency practice, his memory was damn near eidetic these days, so that had probably played a part too.

"Your parents would have been so proud." Sirius stated with a big grin. "Not only are you a suave ladies man, but you're also a bookworm."

"Somehow I get the feeling that my mother wouldn't have been too happy about a lot of the things that dad would have been."

Sirius snorted. "You got that right, but teenagers are supposed to be rebellious anyway."

Harry nodded and changed the subject. "I'm going back to Grimmauld Place tomorrow."

"Did you already finish that book you took?"

"Of course not, that thing is huge." Harry refuted. "I just figure that I might as well start relocating the library and any other interesting bits so that I won't have to keep going over there all the time."

Despite Sirius' hatred of Grimmauld Place and the jokes he'd made made on their first visit, he had no intention of either selling it or destroying it. He wouldn't live there and planned to empty it of everything that had some worth, but he would keep it around. If nothing else, it would make for a good hidey hole and fallback location if it was ever needed as such and Teeny would be happy with the extra work of of maintaining it. He still had trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that more work made house elves happy, but he supposed that he didn't have to understand it as long as it made the helpful little creature happy.

"Want me to come with you?" Sirius asked, as if they weren't dicussing what was essentially the robbery of the ancestral home of his family.

"If you want." Harry shrugged. "You might be able to identify some of the cursed objects, but it's not neccessary."

"Why do you want those anyway?"

"Practice."

"Practice?"

"Unraveling the spells on cursed or enchanted items is a great way of learning how to apply them."

"Errr, Harry, you do know that it's usually the job of Curse-Breakers with years of training to do that kind of stuff?"

"What's your point?"

"You're not a trained Curse-Breaker."

"So?"

"I really wish you'd get some safer hobbies, Harry."

"It's not like I'm going to blunder about blindly, I'm not a Gryffindor."

"That was low."

XXXXX

Sirius decided to come along for the looting expedition, having nothing better to do anyway.

With them was also Teeny, levitating three chests behind her; one for books, one for cursed objects and one for regular stuff.

They'd barely started cleaning out the library when Kreacher showed up, worked up into a proper house elven hissy fit.

"Where is it?!" The demented little elf screeched.

Sirius looked bewildered, but Harry instantly guessed what Kreacher meant.

"You wouldn't happen to be talking about a heavy golden locket with a piece of Voldemort's soul stuck in it, would you?" He asked.

Teeny gasped at the utterance of the Dark Lord's name. Kreacher snapped his mouth shut and glared.

"Kreacher, what do you know about that locket? How did it end up in this house?" Harry pressed.

The house elf stayed mulishly silent.

"Answer him!" Sirius snapped angrily.

And so Kreacher started talking, resentfully and unwillingly at first, but soon becoming overwhelmed with emotion as he began to describe the sacrifice that Regulus had made.

When the tale was done, Sirius had gone very pale. "I had no idea. I thought that Reggie tried to back out and got killed by the other Death Eaters."

"Master Regulus was brave and kind!" Kreacher asserted fiercely. "Kreacher wants the locket back! Kreacher promised to destroy it!"

"Kreacher, the locket isn't the only one of those items." Harry said carefully.

The house elf was visibly shocked by this. "Bu-but master Regulus said that if Kreacher destroyed it, the Dark Lord would be defeated."

"He made more than one. I've already destroyed two and we have no way of knowing how many were made." Harry told him.

"You know how to destroy them?" Kreacher asked with desperate hope, latching on to the part that was most important to him. "Kreacher tried and tried, but nothing he did would damage it. Kreacher couldn't fulfill master Regulus' last order."

Harry knew that the house elf desperately wanted to fulfill that order, but the locket was simply too valuable to destroy right now. "I can, but first I need to see if I can use it to locate any others. It won't do us any good to destroy one only for there to be more."

Fortunately, house elves were perfectly capable of seeing reason. "Kreacher understands." He said despondently.

Harry then kneeled on the floor so that he was more level with the small being and spoke in a softer tone. "Kreacher, did Regulus leave behind anything that might help us destroy all these things? Voldemort is still out there and it's only a matter of time before he comes back unless we find them all."

"Filthy halfblood won't steal it?" Kreacher asked dubiously, having no idea what to think of this wizard that had lowered himself to a house elf's level.

"Kreacher." Sirius interjected with a sigh at the house elf's seemingly reflexive bigotry. "Harry is going to inherit the Black family, so everything will belong to him anyway. I've certainly got no intention of fathering any heirs of my own."

Kreacher's ears drooped a bit, obviously upset by that. He'd served the Black family for decades and didn't want to see it go extinct, but he considered Regulus' last wishes to be more important.

"Kreacher will bring it."

The house elf popped away and returned a minute later, holding a book with a black and purple cover.

'Secrets of the Darkest Art' the title read, and Harry knew instantly that he would find what he was looking for in it.

"Master Regulus read this book and told Kreacher to hide it before going to the cave, so Kreacher hid it." The house elf explained.

"I've never seen that book before." Sirius commented, looking at it warily.

"Master Regulus stole it from the Lord's private study." Kreacher explained with a mutter.

Sirius blinked. "Huh, that was ballsy of Reg. Gramps wouldn't have been happy about that."

"Master Arcturus was not." Kreacher said flatly.

"Thank you, Kreacher, this is exactly what I needed." Harry interjected, having leafed through the book a bit and seen that it was full of some of the most despicable magics he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Filthy halfblood will destroy it?"

"As soon as I can determine how many of these things there are." Harry confirmed and then paused in thought for a moment. He had initially been dismissive of the belligerent house elf, but after what he'd just heard, he could see that there was more to him than the outward bitterness. Even his bigotry seemed more like something that he just did without really believing it. And there was that idea that he'd been considering....."Kreacher, would you like to come work for me?"

Both Kreacher and Sirius were visibly shocked by his question and Sirius wasted no time in giving voice to his shock.

"Harry, do you really want him working for you?" He asked incredulously.

"Why not?" Harry asked in turn. "He's been nothing but loyal to your brother and deserves better than to be left abandoned in an empty house."

Kreacher visibly swelled with pride at the words.

Sirius threw his hands up into the air in exasperation. "Fine then, you can have him if you want to deal with his muttering."

Harry simply nodded and turned back to the house elf. "What do you say, Kreacher? Would you like to come work for me?"

Kreacher was surprised at actually being asked what he wanted, but nodded all the same. "Kreacher will serve the filthy halfblood."

At that point Harry realized that he already had one house elf, who had been as silent as a mouse the entire time. "Errr, I hope you don't mind, Teeny?"

Despite being more used to kindness than the Black family elf, Teeny was also caught a bit off guard at being asked such a thing. "No, Teeny doesn't mind, as long as Kreacher stops calling master a filthy halfblood. Master Harry is best master!" The last was said quite fiercely.

"Actually, I kind of like it." Harry admitted.

"You like being called a filthy halfblood?" Sirius asked in disbelief.

"Not by everyone obviously, but coming from Kreacher it just sounds right, like Kreacher wouldn't be Kreacher if he wasn't calling me a filthy halfblood." The younger wizard explained.

"Kreacher will continue calling the filthy halfblood master a filthy halfblood." Kreacher nodded decisively.

"You're weird, Harry. Really weird."

XXXXX

The creation of a Horcrux is among the highest forms of sorcery, the manipulation of the soul.

First, the caster must cause a break in their soul. This can be achieved through various means, but they all circle back to the destruction of innocence. The simplest way of achieving this is through cold blooded murder of one who has done the caster no harm, the more harmless the better. Alternatively, killing a close friend would have even superior results.

Once the soul has become fragmented, a piece can be brought out and bound to an item. This is no simple matter, as only those with great souls are capable of listening to the echoes of magic within themselves and splitting apart a fragment.

The item used is also important. It can be no mundane thing, but something of great personal significance, else the soul fragment will not bond with it. Choose the item with care.

Once the Horcrux is created, the item used will become nearly impervious to damage as it takes on some of the indestructible properties of the soul. Be wary however, of methods that destroy magic, as they will sever the tie between the soul and the item.

Take heed that this sacrificial mutilation of one's soul may affect the flesh as it does the spirit and can never be undone.

The separated soul piece within the Horcrux will remain unchanged while the creator does not. Should you wish to return the fragment to the whole, you must do so quickly or it will become alien to you and resist.

The Horcrux should never be allowed in the presence of other witches or wizards, as it will attempt to regain a body through possession. Those with strong souls of their own may resist, but the weak will succumb and become vessels. Should this occur, the Horcrux will be far more vulnerable to destruction and may even become your enemy.

Harry shut the book with a frown and thought about what he'd just read.

There was nothing written there that was immediately helpful and the book obliquely implied that making more than one Horcrux was a bad idea. Voldemort had clearly disagreed.

Still, surely the separated soul fragment retained some link to the other parts of itself? That would be the sensible assumption, but there had been times in the past when magic and sense remained unrelated.

Either way, coming across this bit of knowledge had been less useful than he had hoped, and he didn't even have any guarantee that the author was entirely correct. He would still need to experiment on his own. For all that having a piece of someone else's soul to play with was a great opportunity, he couldn't help but feel anxious. He was not under any illusion of being ready for a wizard the likes of Voldemort and would have dearly liked to just drip a few drops of basilisk venom on the damn locket and be done with it, opportunity be damned.

XXXXX

"Any luck?" Sirius asked the next day.

"No." Harry grimaced. "Nothing I've tried so far has achieved a damn thing aside from giving me a headache from spending all that time resisting the compulsion to put it on."

"Maybe we should just destroy it?" Sirius suggested. "It's too damn dangerous to keep around if you're not getting anywhere."

"And then what? Hope that any other Horcruxes are just going to drop into our lap like this one did?" Harry grumbled.

"Harry, I know that you don't trust him, but Dumbledore knows Voldemort better than anyone, he might have some idea of where to find the others. If there even are any others."

"I'm not talking to him except as an absolute last resort. The old man is playing his own games, the full extent of which I can't see. He'd just pump us for information but give nothing in return."

Sirius would have liked to argue that point, but he couldn't. Dumbledore had indeed kept things very close to the chest for as long as anyone had known him.

"Besides, I didn't expect it to be easy." Harry went on. "Maybe I just need more knowledge on magic and souls before I try again."

Sirius rubbed a hand over his face tiredly, wondering at what strange twists life could take that would lead to his godson messing around with Voldemort's soul.

"At least take a break." He finally said. "You haven't done anything to relax since the summer started."

"Studying magic is relaxing." Harry replied mildly. "And I've gone on a date with Dora."

"Go on another one."

"I will, but not yet. I have business to tend to first."

"I still can't believe that you're working out business deals at your age."

"You should be doing it too." Harry pointed out. "The Black family is in an even worse situation than Potter."

"Meh." Sirius shrugged, obviously uncaring. "I'll just leave it all to you. That way, House Potter gets elevated to Noble and Most Ancient status and Black goes extinct. Everybody wins."

Harry shook his head with an exasperated smile. Sirius' resentment for his family was boundless. He was going to deliberately wipe out his family name just to spite the dead. Well far be it from him to protest the free windfall.

"In that case, you can try your hand at explaining to Kreacher how mounting his head on a wall isn't an honor while I'm off listening to lawyers." The old Black family elf was incredibly stubborn and set in his ways. Getting him to wear something more dignified than a dirty pillowcase had been easy enough, they'd just told him that it reflected poorly on them. Convincing him that the Black family tradition of mounting house elf heads on a wall wasn't something to be proud of was proving a lot harder.

"He's your elf now." Sirius pointed out cheekily. "He won't listen to me anymore."

XXXXX

Arranging a consultation with a wizarding lawyer wasn't too difficult thanks both to prior experience and Harry's personal status, but the muggle side was considerably more problematic, even without the need to skirt around the subject of magic. Nonetheless he had eventually managed it and taken his four prospective business partners to see both so that they could discuss the terms of their contract.

Those two meetings had taken up the the whole morning, leaving all five of them tired and hungry, so Harry had offered to treat them all to lunch.

Which was where they were now, the food had been eaten and the dishes taken away, leaving only the notes they'd taken from the two meetings on the table.

Quite a few of the things that had been discussed was stuff that they could easily agree on. Things like all five of them getting regular finance reports and being able to request a full accounting at any time and for any reason.

Of course, not everything was agreeable to all of them.

"I don't like this." Jade was saying with a scowl. "We've already talked about the Right of First Refusal so that we can't sell to anyone without your permission and I get why that would be a good idea, but there's a bunch of other things here that give you way too much power."

"Such as?" Harry asked mildly, seeing that the others agreed with her.

"I think that the one that bothers us the most is you having supermajority." Tiana said delicately. " It essentially gives you the last word on everything."

"Not everything." Harry said defensively.

"Riiight." Bryanna drawled. "We just can't sell or dissolve the business without your say so."

"That's pretty much just an extension to the Right of First Refusal." Harry countered.

"And this non-compete clause that makes it illegal for us to start up a similar business if we decide to leave?" Isabel asked.

"That's for your benefit as much as mine." Harry pointed out.

"What about this Capital Expenditure Approval thing then?" Tiana added. "We'd have to ask you for permission every time we want to spend some gold."

"Only for the larger scale expenses. That's my gold that you'd be working with and I don't want to hear that you spent a large chunk of it or even went into debt without my knowledge." He argued back.

"You'd lose that privilege once you lost majority ownership then?" Isabel asked stiffly.

"Not completely." He admitted. "I'd be willing to change the terms so that Bryanna and Tiana together could overrule me, but I'd still have to be consulted before it was done and I'd retain the right to buy back those shares at need."

"That would let you keep control even as a minority holder." She said with a scowl. "You could take back majority ownership at any time if you didn't like their decisions. The way it's worded, you could even force us to sell everything to you whether we wanted to or not."

"I wouldn't do that unless some circumstance forced me to." Harry insisted. "I'm not looking to swindle you out of anything here. Like it or not, but the more say I have in things, the less chance there is of some third party sticking their fingers into it. As long as it looks like you have no control, you'll be safe from any outside interference."

"And what assurance do we have that you won't just take everything for yourself once we start turning a profit?" Jade demanded.

"None." Harry retorted flatly, starting to get irritated. "What you do have is a near certainty that some snobby pureblood is going to think that a bunch of uppity mudbloods and halfbloods have no business being successful and working to shut you down. I want the final say on any major decisions for the same reason. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I'll be taken a lot more seriously than you."

Seeing Jade bristle in a way that signaled an impending loss of temper, Bryanna quickly intervened. She grabbed hold of Harry's hand to draw his attention and spoke in a much softer tone of voice.

"Harry, if we agreed to a contract like this, we'd be placing all of our ambitions in your hands. Can we trust you that much?" She asked.

Harry took a deep breath to calm down, reminding himself that Isabel and Jade didn't know him. It grated to have his motives questioned like this, but it wasn't surprising. He wouldn't be enthused about entrusting his future to a virtual stranger on nothing but faith either.

"Yes, you can trust me." He assured her. "I want to be kept involved and informed, but for the most part I'll be a silent partner in all but name unless something requires my input."

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to swear an Unbreakable Vow to that effect?" Jade interjected waspishly, still a bit steamed from the earlier near-argument.

Harry looked at her as if she was an idiot. "I wouldn't swear an Unbreakable Vow to not burn down an orphanage with the children still inside it. I'll never agree to turn my own magic into a chain around my neck, no matter how good or benign the reason seems, especially not for something this trivial."

People who swore careless oaths always seemed to end up tripping over them eventually.

Jade backed off, taken by surprise at his vehemence.

"His word is good enough for me." Tiana jumped in. "We can trust him."

Bryanna quickly backed her up and the other two backed down. They weren't happy about it, but they would go along with it.

"Alright, good. We'll put together a proper contract later and look it over again, and after that we'll go to Gringotts to open up a company vault."

"A company vault?" Bryanna repeated.

"Yes, a company vault." Harry confirmed. "One that all of us have equal access to and which will be used exclusively for business related expenses and the payout of salaries. Much easier to keep everyone honest that way."

This time they all agreed without issue, fortunately. Isabel and Jade left together after that, leaving only three people at the table.

"So, Harry.....What do you say we go seal the deal somewhere more private?" Bryanna asked coyly, placing a hand on his thigh. Tiana did the same on his other side.

Harry was getting some very pleasant flashbacks to his first Hogsmeade visit and what had happened afterwards, but it was with a sigh and a heavy heart that he grabbed hold of their hands and removed them.

"I'm sorry, girls, but I'm in a relationship now."

Both were visibly shocked and a bit disappointed, but soon sprouted conniving grins.

"And who is the lucky lady that caught your interest?" Bryanna asked.

"I don't really think you need to know that." Harry evaded.

"I bet she's older than us." Tiana declared. "Is she older than thirty?"

"I'm not telling you." He insisted.

"Not older than thirty then." The former Slytherin nodded, making Harry wonder how she had come to that conclusion. Granted, it was the right conclusion, but he had no idea what made her so certain. "She has to be somewhere between twenty and thirty then."

"Why does she have to be between twenty and thirty?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"So she is between twenty and thirty!" Bryanna exclaimed,

"What?"

"Did she go to Hogwarts with us?" Tiana continued to press.

Harry paused in thought for a fatal moment. Tonks had just graduated by the time he'd arrived, so she would have been three years above Bryanna and Tiana. It was highly likely that they had known of her since Tonks was not exactly inconspicuous.

"Aha! She did go to Hogwarts with us!" Bryanna crowed, seeing his small pause as a confirmation. "That puts her between the ages of.....twenty-four and twenty."

"Probably closer to the lower end of that." Tiana advised. "No matter how smooth Harry is, I doubt a woman ten years his senior would be willing to get into a serious relationship with him right now, even six would be pushing it. Of course, she could just be after his money, but we already know that Harry wouldn't be duped into something like that, don't we?"

"Good point." Bryanna conceded before turning to the baffled Harry, who could hardly believe the weird chain of logic that was leading them to quickly eliminate potential girlfriends with almost frightening accuracy. "Did you sleep with her yet?"

"That's none of your business." He said irritably, immediately regretting his impulsive answer.

"Ah, not one of the school sluts then, since you couldn't have been with her for long." Tiana nodded sagely.

"I think we can safely eliminate some of the more mousy ones too." Bryanna added.

"That's true. So, a woman in her early twenties that is neither a slut nor a mouse. Someone that wouldn't be interested only in his money and confident enough to attract attention." Tiana summarized and postulated.

"Is she a blonde?" Bryanna asked.

Harry answered with stony silence, refusing to give any more hints by speaking.

"Brunette?"

More silence.

"Redhead?"

Even more silence.

"Maybe it's that Metamorphagus?" Tiana said with a snicker, quite obviously joking.

Harry twitched. The girls noticed.

"No way...." Bryanna said slowly. "You're dating Nymphadora 'don't call me that' Tonks?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in resignation. "Yes, I'm dating Nymphadora Tonks."

"In retrospect, that should have been our first guess." Tiana said after a moment. "Just think about it. She's a twenty-one year old that can make herself look forty at will. He can have his cake and eat it too."

"That's not why I'm dating her." Harry grumbled.

"We know, Harry." Both girls said soothingly. "But you have thought about it."

"Of course I have." He said with an eyeroll. As if it was possible to avoid thinking about it. He wasn't a eunuch.

"Well we hope things work out for the two of you."

"Thanks, and I'd appreciate if you don't spread it around. The last thing I need is to have that bitch Skeeter making more disingenuous assertations in the Prophet."

"Don't worry, Harry, we won't say a word."

XXXXX

A few days later, Harry once again found himself in the Ministry for his Arithmancy OWL.

This one was almost entirely theory and was somewhat more difficult than the one for Ancient Runes, but he was confident in the results all the same.

The Governor of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, an ancient witch by the name of Griselda Marchbanks, approached him once he came out of the test chamber.

"Mr. Potter." She said neutrally, much to Harry's private relief. One or two of the examiners had been rather less than professional around him. "First I would like to laud your academic achievement. It has been many years since the last time that a student sat their OWLs early."

"Thank you." Harry replied with a nod.

"You will receive your results by owl at the end of July the same as everyone else." She went on.

"Ah, it may be better if I stopped by to pick them up myself." Harry interjected.

"Why is that?" She asked, puzzled.

"Owls have had trouble finding me for over a year now." He explained.

"What happened?" She pressed, even more puzzled.

"I don't honestly know." He lied. "The only thing of any real significance was a close encounter with a dementor, but I'm fairly certain that happened afterwards. Nothing really stands out other than that."

Marchbanks gave him a shrewd look, but he gave away nothing.

"Very well then, I will have your results in my office. You may come pick them up at any time after July 27th." She said, apparently deciding not to make an issue out of it.

Harry thanked the old woman again and left, inwardly grumbling about the amount of minor inconveniences his owl problem was causing him. It hadn't been an issue when his only bit of post had been from Luna or Ginny before they'd drifted apart, but given everything that he was getting involved with these days, it was becoming damned annoying.

He didn't appreciate having his time wasted on the minor minutia of the day. Maybe it was time to consider employing a steward or majordomo of sorts? A personal assistant of some sort at any rate. They wouldn't have a much to do just yet, but it looked like his business ventures were all set to start producing quite a bit of paperwork in the near future. Then there was his public image, regarding which he had recently woken up to the fact that it would probably need maintenance. The overblown legend of the Boy-Who-Lived was annoying and the hyphenated title stupid, but it could make for an excellent springboard to replace it with something....realistic and less volatile.He didn't really have anyone in mind for the job, but it was something to think about.

XXXXX

"Paintball? We're doing paintball?" Tonks asked, sounding surprised and more than a little excited.

"Yep." Harry nodded. "I was thinking of all the places I could take you, like fancy dinners or dancing or whatnot, but then I thought to myself 'would Dora really enjoy that, or would she prefer to shoot high speed balls of paint at my arse?'. The answer seemed obvious, so I went and booked the arena just for us."

Tonks let him know what she thought about that by grabbing his head and pulling him down into a kiss.

"I've wanted to go paintballing for ages, but never had anyone to go with." She explained once she pulled away.

"We'll see if you'll still be excited once I plaster you with paint." He said with a challenging smirk.

"You will, will you?" She retorted with narrowed eyes. "You're clearly forgetting which one of us is the Auror and which is still a student."

"That'll just make my victory sweeter."

"Oh you've done it now. I am going to own you so hard, Potter."

XXXXX

Harry crept around the arena, keeping out of sight in order to properly flank his unaware opponent.

She was dangerous and had a good eye for positioning, but he had something of an unfair advantage. With the two of them being the only people anywhere in the vicinity, he could sense her location clear as day. Thus, he always managed to avoid her line of fire.

And he also had the Cloak of True Invisibility in his Bag of Holding and the ability to use wandless silencing spells. Really, he was cheating his arse off. He justified it to himself with the fact that his girlfriend had combat training and he didn't and wasn't cheating a crucial part of any kind of combat anyway?

Once he was in position a ways behind the tensely crouched figure, he pulled off the Cloak and stuffed it back into the Bag of Holding. Then he raised the paintball gun, took careful aim and fired.

The little ball of paint splattered over the small of Dora's back, joining several of its brothers.

"Gah!" Tonks yelped loudly, turning around and loosing fussilade of paintballs in his general direction. Alas, she hit only the cover that he'd hidden behind.

"That is it!" She shouted. "You're going down!"

Harry's eyes widened in alarm as she stormed towards him, apparently disdaining caution in favor of getting a hit on him. Knowing that he didn't have much time, he made a run for it, firing at her blindly in the hope that she would duck for cover. Judging by the stinging impacts along his back, it hadn't worked.

He kept on running, ducking behind cover as much as possible. He needed to get out of sight so that he could vanish again.

Then he heard a familiar sound. The crack of Apparition. Tonks appeared to his left, shot him a few times with a gleeful cackle and apparated away again.

"What the hell, Dora? That's cheating!" He yelled out hypocritically, rubbing at the places where he'd been shot.

"You're cheating too!" She accused from her new position. "There's no way that you just happened to get behind me every sodding time!"

"Prove it!" He yelled back.

Her answer was a crescent slash of pink paint that he just barely dodged and which had quite obviously not come from a paintball gun.

"How's that for proof, you tosser?"

"Alright, if that's how it's going to be...." Harry mutterered and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak again.

Once more invisible and inaudible, he stalked over to where he was sensing his girlfriend. She looked mildly ridiculous in her paint covered camo overalls and mask, paintball gun in one hand and wand in the other.

Then he laid prone on the ground, poke the barrel of his paitnball gun out from the edge of the cloak and shot her square in the arse.

Tonks jumped into the air with a yelp and spun around with every intention of getting her revenge, only to blink in confusion at the empty space.

Suspiciously, she waved her wand and muttered something that he didn't catch. A wave of something passed over him and he abruptly felt exposed despite being invisible. Then she looked right at him and he knew what spell she'd cast. The Human Presence Revealing Spell. He hadn't been sure if that would work even on the Cloak of True Invisibility, but apparently it did.

"Accio Invisibility Cloak." She hissed.

Harry felt the spell come within the range of his magical aura and resisted it. There was a reason why wizards in duels didn't just summon their opponent's wands and be done with it. Some spells didn't work too well once they entered the immediate presence of other magic users, the basic summoning charm being one of them. It only worked when the caster was significantly more powerful than the target. While Harry wouldn't bet on himself in a duel against his girlfriend right now, she did not outclass him to such a degree that he couldn't disperse an Accio.

Tonks was visibly surprised at having her spell resisted though and Harry took the opportunity to fire a few more paintballs at her. In a display of impressive reaction speed, she apparated away before they could reach her.

Figuring that keeping the Cloak around now that she knew he had it was pointless, Harry stuffed it back into his Bag of Holding. No sense in letting it get splattered with paint.

"Alright, Dora, I've put away the Invisibility Cloak. Are you going to stop apparating?" He called out.

"No chance!"

Harry had just enough time to smile wryly when he sensed her apparating again and threw himself to the ground to avoid another crescent of pink paint. He quickly rolled onto his back and opened fire, fully expecting her to apparate away again. She surprised him by taking those hits in exchange for letting fly another slash of paint. There was no avoiding it this time, and he ended up having a line of pink bisect his torso. Then she apparated away.

"How'd you like that?" She gloated from her new position.

Harry decided that revealing one minor legal infraction to an Auror was well worth the price of one-upping her and apparated directly behind her.

This time, Tonks was far too surprised to react as he grabbed pulled her into an amateurish submission hold with his arms under hers and his hands interlaced on the back of her neck. She instinctively tried to break out of it, and he grunted in surprise at her strength. She was stronger than he would've given her credit for, but despite the age difference between them, he still had a good four inches of height on her, was male and had a minor magical strength enhancement going for him, so he was able to hold her.

She still had her wand though, which she awkwardly aimed at him and fired a silent Knockback Jinx.

One little known fact about magic was that casting spells in close proximity to other magic users could have some odd effects. The thoughts of the other magic user would intrude on the casting and warp the spell. The stronger the other, the more pronounced the effect.

So while Tonks had been intending for her spell to only knock back Harry, his desire to keep holding her meant that both of them were hit by the spell.

Harry oofed explosively as he was sandwiched between the unyielding ground and his girlfriend, leaving him short of breath and wheezing.

Tonks had no such impediment and immediately took advantage of his loosened hold to spin around and pull the transparent mask off his face before removing her own.

She was panting as she glared at him, face covered in a light sheen of sweat, but her hair was a happy pink and her dark eyes were anything but angry. Then her hair quickly started turning a flaming red.

Harry expected to be questioned on the matter of his skill with Apparition, for which he had long since prepared an explanation for, but she surprised him by mashing her lips against his demandingly.

Kissing was certainly better than explaining why he knew how to apparate, so Harry returned her affections enthusiastically. The impromptu make-out session soon included groping and began edging towards R-rated.

Deciding not to overthink it, He apparated them both to the master bedroom in Potter Manor.

Some time later, the owner of the paintball arena showed up, saw the inexplicable splashes of pink paint, the discarded masks and paintball guns, missing protective overalls and grumbled something uncomplimentary about long haired punks.

XXXXX

The two of them popped into existence on the carpeted floor and immediately resumed kissing.

Seeing that no slaps were incoming for his presumption, Harry immediately went to work on pulling the unflattering paint splattered overalls off his girlfriend. He growled in irritation as he discovered that overalls were not meant to be removed while horizontal.

The two of them somehow managed to clamber onto their feet while still kissing and groping each other, Dora's wand went flying carelessly into a corner of the room at this point as well. She tugged impatiently at the collar of his overalls and he pulled his arms out just as impatiently. Then they discovered that shoes generally need to be removed first and Tonks kneeled down to get rid of the offending footwear without hesitation.

Seeing her fire red hair bobbing at crotch level while she busied herself with that task had Harry gnawing on his lower lip in an effort to keep control of his lust. To his mixed relief and disappointment, she was done quickly and got back on her feet, though not without giving the bulge of his erection a cheeky kiss as she pulled off the overalls.

That made Harry groan in desire as he kissed her again and then pushed her towards the bed.

Her knees hit the edge and she fell on it with a small gasp. He ignored the urge to climb on top of her again for now and busied himself with pulling her own shoes off, followed by the stained overalls. Only once they were off did he go back to claiming her mouth and laying wet kisses over her sweat salted neck.

They were still wearing far too many clothes though and Harry was out of patience with the practice of removing it normally, so he simply grabbed the collar of her plain T-shirt and ripped it off.

"You animal, I liked that shirt." She gasped and complained in a tone so lusty that nobody could think she was actually displeased.

"I'll buy you all the shirts you want." He growled back and dove into the valley between her bra-clad breasts with his tongue.

He started moving his way further downward, paying special attention to the occasional bruise from their recent paintball match. Wizards and witches were fortunately quite a bit more sturdy than the norm, so the 'wounds' were likely to be more or less gone by tomorrow even without magical healing.

Tonks took his downward movement as an opportunity to divest him of his own shirt, leaving him topless.

Once he got to her shorts, he unbuttoned them impatiently, wishing that he could just rip them off like he'd done the shirt. He didn't bother going one at a time and removed her panties too while he was at it.

The scent of her womanhood drifted to his nose and it was all he could do to keep from instantly indulging his penchant for performing oral sex. The flaming red bush of pubic hair really deserved a comment though.

"So they do match." He quipped instead, smirking up at her.

Tonks stuck her tongue out at him and gained a brief look of concentraction. Her pubic hair receded into her skin, leaving behind a completely bald crotch.

"That's useful." He murmured and leaned in close to take a deep whiff of her scent. Her legs quivered with anticipation.

Then she growled in frustration when he only gave her thighs a kiss and retreated, but he was determined to give her the best night he possibly could and that meant no rushing things.

He stood up with the intent of rolling her over to remove the offending bra she was still wearing, but she sat up at the same moment and started working on removing his own shorts, so he did it while she was busy with that.

His member sprang free of its cloth prison and greeted her enthusiastically. He'd grown considerably in size over the past year and now hung at a respectable six and a half inches. Not any kind of monster cock by any stretch, but he still had a bit of growing to do and he wasn't so inept at pleasing a woman that he felt the need to have some forearm sized monster attached to his crotch anyway.

He closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure as he felt Dora run her hands over him and lean in with obvious intent. Then she gave the tip a kiss and leaned back with a laugh, hair going a bit pinker.

Harry blew air through his nose in an attempt to look angry, but ruined it with the grin he couldn't quite suppress. He moved towards her and she scooted back on the huge bed until they were both somewhere in the middle, where he claimed her lips for another kiss.

The sensations were so much better now that they were both completely naked. She spread her legs and wiggled her hips in an obvious effort to entice him to just enter her, but he resisted. He still wanted to taste her first.

He made another trip down her body, this time stopping to give her uncovered nipples some attention. Once he was back in position between her legs, he gave her slit a slow lick, making a sound of pleasure at the taste of her juices on hs tongue and the sound of her pleasured gasp in his ears.

He kept that up for a minute or so, avoiding her the nub of her clitoris for the moment. He had something special in mind for that.

Dora got impatient with the slow pace though and started trying to pull his head up to the approriate height. He decided to oblige and gave the little nub a flick with his tongue. Her loud gasp told him that he was definitely not the only one enjoying this.

Then he was struck by inspiration.

"Dora?"

"What?" She moaned impatiently, wanting him to put that tongue back to a better use than asking stupid questions.

"Can you make it bigger like you did your nipples?" he asked, starting up at her with shining green eyes.

Tonks was intrigued by the idea and focused for a moment.

Harry watched eagerly as the tiny nub of her clitoris gained enough length to poke out from under its protective hood.

"Perfect." He purred and placed his lips over the newly enlarged organ.

Tonks gave a shuddering gasp and fell back on the bed with her mouth open wide in surprise, vaguely thinking that this idea had either been great or terrible. Maybe both.

Harry took his time in fully establishing the empathy bond that he'd used to such effect on all of their dates so far and only then began to gently manipulate the dense bundle of nerves with lips, tongue and magic.

Tonks spent the next five minutes gasping for air and letting him do whatever the hell he wanted as long as it kept her feeling this good.

Haryy knew that he could have brought her to orgasm already, but he was deliberately prolonging her pleasure. It was only when he heard the first needy whimpers that he stopped teasing her.

"Don't you dare stop!" She threatened breathily when he removed his mouth, though she didn't sound very threatening.

Harry didn't answer her verbally, instead electing to kiss her again and settle himself between her legs. He sank into her slowly, with his magic as much as his member, far too slowly for her tastes if the way she wiggled under him the whole time was any indication.

He started thrusting then, just as slowly as before, being careful not to push her over the edge of climax. Whenever he sensed that she was approaching that crest, he slowed down further or even stopped, just long enough for the tension in her body to recede a little bit.

She groped at his back and pulled on his butt in an attempt to get him to speed up, but he deliberately kept up the torturously slow pace. He felt her vaginal tunnel become tighter and more narrow as her Metamorph ability tried to help her squeeze that extra bit of pleasure from his slow motions, but that just made him go even slower. He wanted them to climax together and she was just going to have to bear with it until that happened. Of course, the sounds of need and pleasure she was making did play a part in that too.

She ran her hands over his runes repeatedly and he knew that she could feel them. Bryanna, Tiana and Zoe had been able to feel them too. Fortunately, the obscuring properties of Arhain left them unable to really focus on that and the knowledge that he had scars all over his body slipped from their minds like a dream.

Harry kept her lingering on the frustrating edge of orgasm for nearly ten minutes before his own pleasure caught up with her. The sudden increase of in tempo caught her by surprise and disrupted the rhytm, but she was quickly pushed over the edge by the sudden increase in stimulation.

When her long denied orgasm was finally reached, she could do nothing but cling to him with her breath stolen from her by the strength of the release she felt. His grunting in her ear as she was flooded with his hot seed only made her own pleasure even greater.

When the pleasure subsided, all the strength seemed to leave her limbs and she collapsed into the bed with a content sigh.

"That was....wow." She sighed out, hair turning a lazy dark blue. "You've obviously had a lot of practice."

"As much as I could manage." He agreed, a hint of smugness in his tone. He was cheating by employing magic to enhance the pleasure, and he was damn proud of it too. All is fair in love and war and all that.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, during which Tonks kept running her hands over his back. An action that quickly led to a reaction.

"No way." She protested weakly, feeling him previously softened member going back to full size again. "You can't still be ready for more."

"Don't worry, Dora. We can go to sleep if you're too tired for another round." He said soothingly.

Dark eyes narrowed in response.

"You better wipe that smirk off your face and get back to the shagging." Like hell was she going to be that girl, the one that fell asleep while her man still wasn't satisfied.

"If you insist." He sighed theatrically.

XXXXX

Harry woke up at sunrise the next day, as he always did when the Sun roused his magic unless he'd already been awake.

The first thing he noticed was that he was spooning a soft body of the female persuasion and that his left arm was numb from being used as a pillow. The downsides of spooning.

Despite that bit of discomfort, he smiled at the memory of what had led to it. He and Dora had had a good time on their date, then they'd had a very good time after it and then they'd fallen asleep together in a state of utter relaxation and contentment with their magics mingling together.

She was still quite deeply asleep. He could feel it in her magic. The way that the air whistled cutely through her nose was also something of a clue.

Fanciful notions of staying in this emotionally soothing situation aside, Harry really needed to get up. His arm was sore, he was already getting hungry, he needed to make a trip to the loo and his morning wood was terribly distracting.

The last problem had the most pleasant solution, so he leaned forward and started nibbling on Dora's neck, watching in fascination as her natural brown hair developed streaks of color in response.

The Metamorphagus was apparently either a very deep sleeper or still exhausted from last night's activities, as she failed to be roused by his ministrations.

It took a bit of maneouvering to shift her over to her stomach, applying liberal amounts of spit as lubricant and gently slide back inside.

That did get the sleeping woman to make a noise of mixed confusion and pleasure, but he continued to slowly thrust into her without pausing.

"Harry, the hell are you doing?" She asked blearily, mind not quite catching up to what her body was telling her.

He answered with a slightly harder thrust that made his intentions unequivocally clear. "I was taking advantage of you."

She gave a little gasp at the intrusion and then turned her head to look back at him when he stopped moving. "Well? Who told you to stop?"

XXXXX

When Sirius made his way to breakfast that morning, he was treated to the sight of his godson and his second cousin sitting together in silk morning robes.

"I see that someone's had a good time." He said with a broad grin. "High five, Harry."

Harry raised his arm and gave his passing godfather a high five.

"Did you two seriously just high five each other over me?" Tonks demanded tersely.

"Sorry, Dora." Harry apologized. "It's easier to just give the sad old man what he wants than to see him pout."

"Hey!" Sirius pouted indignantly while the Metamorphagus snorted.

"He's had no luck with women since being freed you see, so he's resorted to living vicariously through me." Harry continued, making Tonks snicker in amusement.

"You're a horrible godson." Sirius huffed.

"That reminds me, I need to pick up a few batches of contraceptive potion." Tonks said with a frown.

"Ran out of stock?" Harry asked lightly, but felt a frisson of worry.

"Nah, I stopped taking it over a year ago." She replied with a wave of her hand. "It tastes gross and I wasn't getting laid anyway."

Harry felt cold sweat bead on his face at the admission. The one time that he neglected to use the contraceptive spell and it just happened to be with a woman who didn't use any protection. "Errr, Dora...."

"Don't worry, Harry, as long as I use it sometime in the next three days I won't be getting preggers wth your babies." She said with a snicker.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was way, way too young to have kids, accelerated development be damned.

"That was mean." Sirius observed. "I like it."

"You would." Harry shot at him.

The conversation lapsed into silence for a while as they focused on eating, during which time Harry started becoming bothered by something.

Namely, why was his girlfriend not commenting on his illegal use of Apparition yesterday? Eventually, he decided to just ask.

"Hey, Dora?"

"Yeah?"

"How come you aren't saying anything about the fact that I apparated us yesterday?"

"Oh Harry, you really think that you're the first minor to do that?" She sighed. "I could report you for it, but that would mean more paperwork for me and a pointless reprimand from the DMLE for you. The age restriction on the use of Apparition was put into place because only about 30% of Britain's adult magical population is capable of it and stupid kids were splinching themselves all over the place trying to get it right on their own. Just don't do it where people can see and try to pretend that you're having some trouble learning it in a few years."

"Huh." Harry said in response, pleasantly surprised by the pragmatism. Then he leaned in to give his girlfriend a peck on the lips. "You're one cool Auror, you know that?"

"I am pretty damned cool, aren't I?" She preened.

Sirius made exaggerated gagging noises.

"Is the stupid blood traitor choking on something?" Kreacher asked as he wandered into the room, carrying a stack of clothes.

"No, Kreacher, Sirius is just being childish." Harry explained.

Kreacher nodded in understanding and turned towards Harry, depositing his burden on the edge of the table. "Kreacher has cleaned and repaired filthy halfblood master's filthy halfblood whore's clothes."

"Oi!" Harry said sternly, genuinely angry this time. "You can call me and Sirius whatever you like, but you will be respectful to everyone else, especially to Dora."

"Kreacher apologizes." The house elf replied, not sounding especially sincere.

"What was up with that?" Tonks asked in bewilderment after he left.

"Sorry about that, Kreacher used to be the Black family elf, so he's got something of an attitude problem." Harry explained, rubbing his forehead. He really should have expected the crotchety old elf to be rude to guests as well as him.

"I can see that." Tonks said, somewhat amused now despite getting called a filthy halfblood whore. "Why do you let him get away with it though?"

"Because he finds it funny to get insulted by his house elf for some reason." Sirius snorted.

"You have to admit that being called a filthy halfblood all the time is more interesting than the near worship you get from most house elves." Harry argued.

"You're weird, Harry." Tonks said, reaching for the stack of clothes that Kreacher had deposited.

"That's what I said!" Sirius chimed in.

"Hmpf." Harry retorted disdainfully.

"He calls this repaired?" Tonks asked wryly, looking at her haphazardly stiched together T-shirt.

Harry sighed and made a mental note to talk to Kreacher about his passive aggressive tendencies towards guests. In fact, he probably needed to talk to him about appropriate conduct in front of and to guests in a very general sense as well."Don't worry about it, I'll replace that for you."

"Oh, that's right!" Tonks exclaimed, eyes shining with delight. "You promised to take me shopping."

Sirius looked at his godson in disbelief. What kind of stupid man says that to a woman?

"Errr, yes?" Harry said uncertainly, a bit unnerved by the look in his girlfriend's eye.

"It's a good thing that it's my day off today." She said, already plotting out a list of shops to visit. One of the often overlooked side benefits of being a Metamorphagus was the vastly increased ease of clothes shopping.

"Why would you need a whole day for shopping?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Sirius shook his head sadly. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way. He couldn't help his godson here.

XXXXX

While Harry occupied his time with his own affairs, the plotters and schemers of the Wizarding World brooded on things that were decidedly not their business.

XXXXX

In Hogwarts castle, its aged Headmaster paced in his office and considered the pieces on the chess board.

Voldemort was worryingly silent. There had been no real news of him for some time now. It was always a bad sign when you didn't know what your foe was up to.

The Dark Lord must assuredly be plotting a way to retun to life, but his movements remained elusive. His Horcruxes likewise remained elusive.

On the other side of the board, the Harry Potter situation was looking much better. He had managed to draw out from Remus Lupin a confirmation of a relationship with Nymphadora Tonks. This was good. Excellent even.

The young Auror would give Harry a firm tie to Wizarding Britain and a reason to defend it from the Dark Lord. Even better, she could be recruited into the Order of the Phoenix and bring Harry closer to Dumbledore's sphere of influence. Because of that relationship alone, he was considering reactivating the Order earlier than intended. He could even offer Harry membership despite his young age. Not yet though, the relationship had to mature a bit first and a solid reason for the move given. Harry was far too cagey to miss that kind of blatant manipulation and may be able to sway young Nymphadora to adopt the same distrust towards him as Harry had.

The boy worried him as much as he impressed him. His knowledge and understanding of magic was already frightfully deep for his youth and could only grow deeper with age, though he was blessedly lacking in the cruelty that Tom Riddle had displayed or even the same kind of hunger for power as Dumbledore himself had once had.

The problem was that whatever was driving the boy remained a mystery. Dumbledore did not feel comfortable with the lynchpin of this entire conflict being a mystery. He wanted to trust Harry, he truly did, but what was he supposed to think of a boy just shy of fourteen that felt the need to magically age himself and had already taken a life with no great remorse?

Harry had discarded his childhood and would soon have to deal with the realities of being a powerful wizard. Sirius was ill-equiped to shield him from it and Dumbledore was no longer able.

More than anything, it was the uncertainty of it all that he feared. He feared it, because he could see the makings of either a great hero or a terrible villain in Harry. He feared it, because he had no idea what he would do should things turn ill. He feared it, because he knew that a wizard who truly wanted to become powerful would become powerful no matter what he or the Ministry or anyone else tried to do to prevent it. Delay, yes. Prevent, no. Getting in his way would just make him even more secretive, sneaky and worst of all, resentful.

So he plotted to throw as many good influences and reasons to fight evil into Harry's path as possible and hoped that it would be enough. He hoped that Harry would stand against Voldemort. He hoped that he would die standing against him, because Dumbledore didn't think that he had the strength to kill the boy himself should it come to that.

XXXXX

In the office of the Minister of Magic, a far less intelligent and venerable man was also pacing. Though in his case it was less thoughtful and more fretful.

"I just don't know what to do, Dolores!" Fudge fretted to his Senior Undersecretary. "Surely there should have been some word from Black and Potter by now? Potter was in the Ministry twice since Black's name was cleared but he hasn't come speak to me. What does it mean?"

He had successfully blamed the entire debacle with Sirius Black's unjust imprisonment on former Minister Bagnold and Barty Crouch Sr. Bagnold was obviously not in a position to care, being dead as she was, but Crouch had found his popularity falling even lower than it had in the aftermath of his son being found a Death Eater and had since been shuffled off into some dead end Ministry department that most people didn't even know existed. He had expected that he would be able to meet privately with the Boy-Who-Lived and the new Lord Black, but no such meeting was forthcoming.

"Wasn't Sirius Black always a disgrace to his family?" Dolores Umbridge answered in her simpering voice. "If he were not the last of his family, he would never have been its Lord. Perhaps he doesn't know the basic courtesies expected of him. As for Potter....well, he is only a boy and he grew up with muggles."

Fudge looked askance at the pink clad woman. Potter was young yes, but a boy? The tall wizard with the too-bright eyes and a sense of power around him was no boy. He had been reminded far too much of Dumbledore when speaking to that 'boy', constantly feeling flustered and out of control.

It was not something that Fudge would admit to anyone, not even to himself, but he hated dealing with powerful wizards and witches. Hated dealing with Dumbledore, who could twist a conversation into twenty different directions and convince you that he always knew best and that you were being childish if you didn't listen. Hated dealing with Bones, whose hard edged personality, rigid inflexibility where the law was concerned and popularity in the Ministry made her a terror to deal with. Now he also hated dealing with Potter, whose legend, wealth, nobility and sheer presence made him a power to be courted, but one who did not seem keen to acknowledge when favors were owed.

Still.....Dolores might have a point. Potter was young, and had grown up with muggles. He may well simply not know how the game was played. He would have to be taught then, but how to go about it?

He wished that Lucius was here. Dolores had her uses, but she was not as clever as she thought she was. Certainly not as clever as Lucius Malfoy.

Speaking of Lucius, he still had to extend him an invitation for the Quidditch World Cup that was happening in a month. The Malfoy patriarch had helped him greatly over the years and it wouldn't do to let that friendship go fallow.

Inspiration struck him then. It would insult Lucius, but it would give him an opportunity to feel out Black and Potter. Surely his old friend would understand and accept his apologies if he invited Black and Potter to the Top Box instead?

Of course, there were other problems with the Quidditch World Cup. Namely the fact that Barty Crouch had been one of the lead organizers and was now suddenly no longer involved, nor was the man willing to help since he'd been transferred. Terribly petty of him actually.

"Dolores, do we have anyone to replace Crouch as Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation yet?"

"No, I haven't yet managed find anyone qualified that could be spared from another department." Umbridge answered with a sickly sweet smile.

Of course, when Umbridge said 'qualified', she meant 'of proper breeding'. There actually were a few people who could have taken over for Crouch, but they were halfbloods and had not even merited a glance from her. Bad enough that the Goblin Liason Office had recently been taken over by a mudblood, even if dealing with those disgusting little creatures was about what they deserved, but she would never tolerate having anyone but a pureblood in a post as prestigious as International Magical Cooperation.

Fudge took the words at face value, as he usually did. There was a reason why he hadn't been a Slytherin. This put him in something of a pickle. He needed that post filled soon. It had already been empty for a couple of weeks and the problems were starting to pile up. Because of this, he did something that he didn't really want to do.

"Dolores, would you mind terribly if I assigned you to temporarily take the job? Just until we can find someone else?" Fudge had his faults, his many, many faults, but he was aware of the fact that Dolores Umbridge was not a very likeable woman and would not do the British Ministry's reputation in the wider world any favors in that position. Unfortunately, he needed that post filled and how much harm could she do in the short time that she would hold it anyway?

"Of course, Cornelius, you can count on me." She replied in her typical saccharine tone. She preferred to be the Minister's Senior Undersecretary, but she would serve the Ministry to the best of her ability in whichever position she needed to. Besides, it would give her the chance to put that department to order. Crouch had been distressingly lax with who he had allowed to climb the ranks there.

XXXXX

Over in Malfoy Manor, Lucius Malfoy did not pace. Pacing was for unrefined commoners.

Instead, he brooded in a high backed chair with a bottle of expensive wine in hand.

Sirius Black was a problem. He hadn't been able to contrive a way to get rid of said problem quickly enough, which meant that by now Harry Potter had also likely become a problem already. The inheritance of a family was an entirely internal affair, meaning that Black was not obligated to inform anyone of his decisions regarding who his Heir was, but unless Black was a complete dimwit, he had already designated his godson as Heir.

The only silver lining was that he had not banished either Narcissa or Draco from the family, yet. That at least he would have to send word about. That would have been a disaster. It was still a potential disaster though, and it would remain as such for as long as Black and now Potter lived.

Oh, how he longed for the days when he could have donned the mask and robes of a Death Eater and solved such problems with a quick Avada Kedavra. It was truly unfortunate that those particular circumstances also brought along the inevitable need to bow and scrape before the Dark Lord. He was much happier with the current state of affairs, despite not being able to personally kill his enemies.

Lucius had been young and more hotheaded when he had joined the Death Eaters. He had wanted to bring back a world where blood meant something. He had learned too late that it would have been wiser to support the Dark Lord from the sidelines and leave the direct involvement to others.

He had heard enough whispers to guess that the Dark Lord was still alive in some fashion, but he would not seek him out. The Dark Lord was powerful, but he was a bungler. Despite his protestations about blood purity and the old ways, the Dark Lord had wiped out numerous distinguished families, both among his enemies and his allies.

Even the damned Potters had been respectable not that long ago. It was only with James Potter and his fixation on that mudblood of his that they'd fallen from grace.

The man's son was a curious thing. A disgusting halfblood, true, but one that promised to be dangerous in the future. Lucius was not so foolish as to dismiss those of lower breeding as being powerless or even useless. Dumbledore was a halfblood and nobody dismissed him. Even mudbloods could be dangerous, though Lucius could only point at James Potter's wife as an example. Subhuman and disgusting, but not powerless. A troll was disgusting too, but it could be dangerous in the right circumstances.

The Potter scion had not yet truly given any real indication of his views. Draco had described him as a reclusive sort, with his only friend being that bizarre Lovegood chit. Had things been different, he might have courted an alliance with him.

Unfortunately, Draco had bungled up his first meeting with him and made the Malfoys his enemies. It would have been so much easier to dispose of Potter had they been allies.

Now Lucius found himself in the unenviable position of having to kill off both Black and Potter without any real means of getting close to them.

On top of that was his concern that one of his more idiotic fellow Death Eaters would eventually catch on about the Dark Lord's continued existence and work to bring him back. Considering that he had gotten the diary destroyed in a failed plot to discredit Arthur Weasley, that could not possibly end well for Lucius. Worse still, he had a dire suspicion that the diary had been more important to the Dark Lord than he had originally thought it to be.

Of course, he couldn't just come out and tell that to the others. None of them could just come out and openly state that they didn't want to support Voldemort anymore. That would be stupidly Gryffindorish, though that was a bit of a tautology in and of itself.

What Lucius needed to do was hedge his bets on the off chance that some dimwit helped facilitate Voldemort's return. He needed to be seen as still championing the cause without actually doing anything himself. That was fortunately something that he was very good at.

The Quidditch World Cup was coming up in about a month. He was actually expecting Fudge to come by any day now with an invitation to join him in the Top Box for the event. He was sure that a few of his more gullible former compatriots could be persuaded into donning their old robes and causing a ruckus. He'd get credit of organizing it and none of the blame since he'd have a nice alibi.

As it happened, his recently purchased house elf brought a letter from the Minister just a few minutes later.

Lucius' eyebrows climbed elegantly up his forehead as he read the letter. Fudge was apologizing profusely for passing him over for the invitation, but he desperately needed to curry some favor with Black and Potter as recompense for the unjust imprisonment, so he was going to invite them instead.

This was......actually very convenient. Oh, he'd make Fudge sweat over the insult later, but this would place Black and Potter in a predictable place and in close proximity to his more gullible Death Eater comrades. Getting them to attack those two would be the height of simplicity. Of course, he'd have to account for the possibility that one or more of them would get captured and questioned, which meant that he would have to arrange things in such a way that none of them could solidly point a finger at him, but that could be done easily enough.

XXXXX

"Hey, Harry?" Sirius inquired with an odd look on his face.

"What?" Harry asked, not looking up from the little magical trinket he'd been staring at in an effort to see what made the magic work and if he could tease it apart.

"Were we expecting post from the Minister of Magic?" Sirius continued, still with an odd look on his face.

"Fudge?" Harry asked, finally looking at his godfather. "Why would that blithering idiot send us post?"

"Apparently we're being invited to attend the Quidditch World Cup as honored guests of the Minister of Magic." Sirius explained.

Harry groaned in irritation. He didn't give a shit about Quidditch and didn't want to deal with the Minister of Magic if it could be helped, but he had a feeling that this wasn't the kind of thing that he could just refuse. Not without some damned annoying consequences at any rate.

"I guess that means we're going?" Sirius asked in resignation. Though not the kind of Quidditch enthusiast that James had been, Sirius could enjoy watching a match, but this stank of politics all the way through.

"Yes, we're going." Harry sighed.

"Couldn't we just tell Fudge to bugger off?" Sirius was an optimist.

"We could, but I've got a feeling that it would cause us even more problems in the future." Harry was a cynic.

"I hate it when you're right." Sirius grumbled.

"Sometimes, so do I." Harry sighed again.