Harry Potter and the Blood of Servants

by Babagarnu

AU 6th Year fiction, Harry discovers new powers and deals with his destiny. Includes Animagus training, a little romance, a little Dark Magic, and a powerful hero.

HARRY

POTTER

And the Blood of Servants

This is a Power Harry Fiction inspired by a single event in JKR's series which I feel has never truly been explained, namely the 'glint of triumph' in Dumbledore's eye when Harry tells him that his own blood was used in the resurrection of Voldemort. While my Fiction does not relate or revolve around that event it is what started me thinking about blood alchemy and different kinds of blood magic.

It is also a fiction written to incorporate more of everyone's favorite character in the series; Dobby. He is a truly marvelous character in my opinion that doesn't get as nearly enough screen time as he should.

I should also point out that I am not a great fan of Ron, and while I try to refrain from Ron bashing or writing evil Ron Fictions I do despise the Ron/Hermione ship with a passion. I admit Hermione is my favorite character in the series and for the life of me I cannot fathom her gaining anything from a relationship with him without some major character assassination going on. That said, each to his own, I do promise to portray Ron as closely to cannon as I am able, so please don't believe just because I don't like the Ron/Hermione ship that Ron will be shown in a harsh light; he won't.

I am also a fan of Confused or Clueless Dumbledore Fictions especially in a Power Harry Fiction, while not being a fan of Manipulative Dumbledore; I have tried to portray him in more of a concerned but trusting fashion, while Harry does keep secrets from him, Dumbledore is portrayed in more of a mentor light.

I must also admit that I do have a tendency in my Power Harry Fictions to cast Harry in a lady killer light, while he of course remains completely oblivious to the obvious female attention in true Cannon Harry fashion.

- CHAPTER ONE -

Summer Resolutions

This summer like the one before was hot, sweltering in fact. The gardens of the normally tidy houses of Private Drive lay barren and brown, scorched by the sun. The cars, usually kept spotless, were left dusty and encrusted with filth, a side-effect of water restrictions and the hose-pipe ban. The streets too were abandoned, with only a few brave youngsters venturing forth into the heat of the day to play in the neighborhood park while all others sought refuge within air-conditioned homes.

Within the garage of one such home a young man lay panting on a heavy blue mat, sweat from his morning work-out trailing down his scarred forehead and glistening on his bare chest. For Harry Potter the start of this summer had been very different from ones previous. True the Dursleys could still barely stand to be in the same room as him, but the threats made by the Order at the end of last term had done their work so far. All the open hostility usually displayed towards the boy had vanished, only to be replaced with a stony silence neither Harry nor the Dursleys sought to break.

On the first day home Harry had been given a list of chores he was to complete each day while in residence at number four, he was also told that he would become a sparring partner for his over-weight cousin Dudley who had won yet another boxing tournament much to his parents' obvious delight. Harry supposed that the Dursleys had devised both of these tasks before they had picked him up at the station and even with the threat of the Order saw no reason to change them. He surmised early on after his first such sparring session that his Uncle Vernon had hoped that his son Dudley might beat the 'freakishness' out of him.

As Harry lay in the garage that had been converted into a pseudo gym for Dudley's use trying to catch his breath he thought back on the last few days. Sure his body was sore from the training with Dudley and the extra work he was required to do but he truly didn't mind the extra work. The extra toll on his body kept his mind occupied allowing him to block that part of himself that seemed to want to dwell on the events of the past year.

That's not to say he had not thought about it at all, in fact, lying in his bed over the last two nights since returning to Private Drive he had spent hours starring at the blank ceiling and it seemed he could think of little else. Already thoughts of distancing himself from his friends had passed through his mind; surely they would be safer without being so close to him?

If Voldemort were to discover as he had done with Sirius how much they meant to him then wouldn't he target them in much the same way?

It was at this moment that Harry had reflected on the conversation he had had in Dumbledore's office at the end of the last year, he remembered distinctly how Dumbledore had tried to distance himself in order to protect Harry and how that had made him feel. He was also completely aware of how that plan had failed spectacularly and he was not about to repeat the mistakes of his mentor.

Lying in the garage he could not find the rage within himself he had once felt towards the Professor, it was only with a deep sense of empathy that he now commiserated with Dumbledore's position. He himself was now in a similar situation, he had yet to tell his friends Hermione and Ron about the Prophesy, after all it was his burden to bare, or was it because, not unlike the Headmaster, he cared about them too much?

He at first thought that maybe by distancing himself and keeping the Prophesy a secret they could go on like the rest of the students and have normal lives, that in separating himself from them he could protect them, they were not marked after all; but that was not completely true.

He knew as a muggle-born Hermione was targeted regardless, as she was for merely being his friend, not to mention she herself had taken part in the Ministry affair, and helped to thwart Voldemort's plans numerous times. Hermione would remain a target and there was nothing he could do about it at this point as much as he wanted to. Besides, she would never let him distance himself anyway.

Ron was not much better off, he was pure-blooded sure, but as Mrs. Black's portrait had said he was a blood-traitor and with the majority of his family in the Order of the Phoenix he would be target as well. He also knew that even should he distance himself from Ron his best friend would continue to fight the good fight; he had even admitted to Harry that if his mother would ever allow it he would gladly join the Order himself.

The murder of Harry's godfather Sirius was another thing that plagued his mind during those quiet nights, and he still felt a deep sense of guilt whenever he thought about the part he had played in it. He knew that a lot of people shared the blame for that night's events, including Dumbledore, Snape, and Kreacher. However even though the lion's share of the guilt lay with Bellatrix and Voldemort he knew some of the blame lay in the poor decisions he had made throughout the year and resolved to make amends in any way he could, if only he had listened to Hermione all of this could have been avoided, she was always right and had never led him astray before after all.

He also discovered during the night that the somewhat bizarre discussion he had shared with Luna Lovegood before the leaving feast helped to sooth him more than he had originally thought, he made the decision to believe like her that the voices from behind the veil were indeed the voices of the deceased and that where ever he was now at least Harry would one day have the chance to see Sirius again.

Most of his time however was spent thinking about the Prophesy that dictated his future and what it meant to him. During his first night at Private Drive he had entertained the self-pitying thoughts of the unfairness of his life, and for a moment had even wished that Voldemort had chosen Neville to be the one to complete the Prophesy. As soon as the thought had come it was gone however as Harry realized that no matter how unfair it was he would never wish his fate upon another, especially his dorm-mate who had already suffered so much. He also admitted quietly to himself that he was glad that out of the two the fate of the wizarding world and hence his own fate did not rest in Neville's hands.

It was these thoughts more than anything that had helped him come to terms with his fate, he had reasoned that in a twisted way he was still the master of his destiny, indeed had the Prophesy been made about anyone else then his fate would be in their hands, and while the thought that his and everyone else's lives rested on his shoulders was not comforting exactly, it did return to him some sense of control to his seemingly pre-determined life, or death as it were.

Sighing deeply Harry picked himself up off the mat and made his way into the house towards the upstairs shower, he had made a decision only yesterday to start getting up early in order to make use of the expensive weights and exercise machines Dudley had been gifted.

Harry supposed that as long as he was to be used as Dudley's personal punching bag through the day he might as well learn something from it, he did not of course delude himself into believing that Voldemort could be killed by Muggle means but if his destiny was to fight then it couldn't hurt to be in shape.

He also knew from his time spent at the Burrow that Fred and Gorge had used an old set of weights in their father's shed out back to stay in shape for Quidditch season. Harry had been assured by McGonagall when she returned his Firebolt by owl the first day of the holidays that with the departure of Umbridge his life-time ban would most definitely be lifted if she had anything to do with it, and even though he had hardly thought about the prospect of playing Quidditch in favor of dealing with his grief he knew that deep down he missed the game terribly and couldn't wait to take to the air again for Gryffindor.

After a quick shower and changing into a pair of Dudley's old cast-offs he headed back down to start breakfast before the Dursleys awakened; preparing all meals was one of the many chores on Petunia's list. At least he reasoned with himself as he withdrew the necessary items from the ice-box, this way he was always sure that he could eat his fill unlike past summers where he was almost always starved.

As Harry began to prepare the meal he mentally went over all the things he had decided he needed to get done before another inevitable encounter with Voldemort or his Death Eaters.

While Voldemort had apparently closed his mind to Harry completely after the events at the Ministry where he was forced out by 'the power he knows not' thus leaving his dreams vision free and his scar completely painless he knew he would not feel safe within his own mind until he himself had a mastery of Occlumency, he definitely didn't want to chance being influenced by him in the future. Voldemort had used the link safely for some time and Harry felt it was only a matter of time before he recovered enough from the encounter to try again. He just hoped that Professor Dumbledore would consent to train him personally, especially after the events of last year.

He also had the somewhat startling revelation that Voldemort had been affecting him in other ways through the link. Throughout the year he had felt an odd prickling in his scar at various times that he had disregarded passing them off as normal now that Voldemort had returned to his own body. Now that those feelings had ceased and the overriding guilt associated with Sirius' death had abated somewhat he realized that the boiling temper he had tried to keep in check just under the surface all year long had also vanished.

He supposed it made sense; he could feel Voldemort's emotions through the link so surely the evil man's overriding hatred and almost constant rage would affect Harry's own feelings in some way. Now that the intrusion had ceased, he found himself returning to the more even temperament he had enjoyed only a year ago, and promised himself that he would apologize to his friends as he knew how that temper had inadvertently been released upon them more than once.

He had also decided that he needed to train; specifically he needed to learn how to duel effectively. While he was not sure what the 'power he knows not' is exactly, and he had deduced that Professor Dumbledore thought it to be love, he had yet to come up with anyway that could possibly be used as a weapon against Voldemort nor indeed made him different from anyone else. Regardless no amount of love on Harry's part was going to help him protect himself should he and his friends be attacked by Death Eaters in the future, for that he needed some serious training.

After finishing his own breakfast and laying out the meal he had prepared for the Dursleys he quickly made his way upstairs as he heard the tell tale signs of his Uncle awake and moving about overhead. Retreating to his room so that he would not have to deal with them just yet he moved to his desk and withdrew some parchment and a quill, crossed off a day on his calendar marking his third day of captivity, and set to work on the first of his letters to the Order detailing his treatment by his surrogate family.

- CHAPTER TWO -

Troubled Heart

Hermione Granger sat near the bay window of her bedroom within the two storey brick home she shared with her parents, a copy of Animagus Transformations; Beast Within open in her lap; while she would never contemplate performing the transformation illegally, she had resolved that she would learn the ability as soon as she was legally able, she had been interested in doing so since third year after all. With the lack of summer homework assigned this year because no-one knew what classes they would select until they received their OWLs, she had decided on using the extra time to continue her independent study; she knew it never hurt to read ahead.

This morning however she just stared blankly at the book before her, she just couldn't concentrate like she usually did when it came to her studies. The reason for her distraction lay in the parchment on the nearby desk, she had a serious problem that could be summarized in two words; Ronald Weasley. It wasn't that Ron was a problem in himself though he could be very trying at times; it was what was written in his letter that was her cause for concern.

Earlier this morning she had risen to the sound of Ron's diminutive owl Pigwidgeon rocketing around her bedroom having apparently gained entrance through the open window. After finally capturing the bird, and becoming increasingly frustrated while doing so, she sat down at her desk to read the correspondence from her friend.

Hermione was not considered one of the smartest witches to pass through Hogwarts without reason, and she like everyone else was not oblivious to the growing attention she had begun to receive from Ron. She could trace her own awareness of the fact back to his obvious jealousy of Victor during the Yule Ball in fourth year and the heated argument that followed. She had further evidenced it by the gift of perfume she had awkwardly accepted the following Christmas and his continued jealousy of Victor when he had discovered she was still writing to him. Add that to the numerous awkward conversations they had shared while performing their prefect duties together, and she was fairly certain his crush had gotten worse over the last year if anything. Ruefully she remembered that she had even knowingly used it against him to distract him from the Slytherin taunts before his first Quidditch match.

Even if she had been oblivious, she quickly would have been informed of the situation considering she did share a room with Lavender and Pavarti; two of the biggest gossips in the whole castle. While Hermione was not one to involve herself in that sort of thing she did listen in more than once, she couldn't very well ignore them chatting away, and it was important to know what the school populace thought after all. Pavarti had told her quite enthusiastically how her sister Padma had been completely ignored by Ron during the ball in favor of staring jealously at her and Victor, while Pavarti's own date spent the night in a similar fashion pining over Cho Chang until both girls had decided that they could have more fun dancing with the boys from Beauxbatons. It was flattering to have a boy think of her that way she supposed, that was precisely the reason she had originally said yes to Victor's invitation after all.

Sighing deeply Hermione closed her book; resigning herself to the fact that she wouldn't be able to distract herself by studying like she had hoped. Taking a deep breath she moved back to her desk, set down her book, and retrieved the letter.

Dear Hermione,

I'm writing this letter because I have something very important to tell you, and Bill suggested putting this in a letter so that I could explain it to you without getting embarrassed by doing it in person, apparently that's how he used to do this when he was in school.

The truth is I like you Hermione, as more than a friend. Ginny tells me that it is completely obvious and that most of the girls in Gryffindor at least already know. Is that true? If it is then this shouldn't come as a surprise. I want to ask you out. What I mean is I want you to be my girlfriend, I think we could be really good together.

We, the family and I, will be going on a holiday in July after we get our OWLs to visit Charlie in Romania and staying there until the week before school heads back. Percy, the git, has decided to apologize to us all and will be coming with us. Mum says it will give the family a chance to heal. If you like I would really like for you to come with us, I don't know if you have been to Romania before but the Dragon Reserve is a lot of fun. We can even ride brooms over the Reserve with Charlie in order to see them better.

From Ron

P.S. Mum has already asked and apparently Dumbledore says that Harry has to stay at his relative's place all summer as it is safest there and no-one can use Snuffles place since he died and we don't know who it belongs to any more, Dumbledore thinks it might belong to Mrs. Malfoy now, did you know she was his cousin? I haven't written any owls to Harry yet, but I think it would be best if we just left him alone for now.

Reading it over she could not help but become slightly annoyed at the boy who had written it. Was he so oblivious to everything that went on around him?

Closing her eyes she could just picture it now; she would apparently cling to Ron's arm placating his major inferiority complex by doting upon him while he prattled on about Wonky Feints and lost his temper at any Slytherin that came within several feet of them. Then he would berate S.P.E.W in a hypocritical acceptance of slavery before stuffing his face in a disgusting display while trying to convince her to go flying over a dragon reserve!

Sighing deeply she supposed she had to cut him some slack as he was male and obviousness did seem to be a common trait at least as far as she could tell. It wasn't that she didn't like Ron by any means; after all he was one of her best friends. She just didn't believe they were suited to anything more.

They spent most of their time together arguing, and he never took anything she was interested in seriously, in fact, he spent most of his time openly ridiculing her. How he had come to the conclusion that they would be 'good together' completely eluded her. He infuriated her, and she wasn't blind even if he was, if it wasn't for Harry's timely interventions, more like refereeing she thought morosely, she was sure they would most likely argue to the point that they wouldn't be friends at all. The time she had spent going between the boys in fourth year had proven to her that she couldn't get along with Ron without Harry's constant support, even if it was only in the form of his calming presence.

It was no wonder Harry had become so fed up with them, she couldn't really blame him for yelling at them like he had. His problems were so much more important than the childish quarrelling of his best friends'; she just couldn't seem to stop herself from arguing with Ron, even if only for Harry's sake.

Throughout the year she had steadfastly ignored Ron's advances towards her, along with his jealousy, and tried to subtly drop hints that she did not return his feelings hoping that he might, like Ginny had with Harry, realize that she was not interested in him and move on.

She even went as far as to let him labor under the false belief that she was continuing a long distance relationship with Victor, as opposed to the platonic pen-pal relationship they had agreed upon, in the hopes that this would curb his feelings toward her. That was another thing that annoyed her somewhat, as far as he knew, she was still in a relationship with Victor; so what was he thinking in asking her out? He hadn't even inquired into the status of her relationship with him.

Perhaps she should discuss the holiday with her mother, as the only other person who knew how she felt about both boys she took great comfort in the fact that she could talk about anything with her, together they would come up with something to do about Ron. After all there were many more important things to be thinking about right now, like her approaching OWL scores, and the state of her other best friend who would apparently be stuck with his horrid relatives all summer long when she had promised him that they would get him out as soon as possible.

Leaving her room with the letter in hand she took the stairs two at a time landing in the entranceway lightly before moving towards the kitchen where she knew her parents would be sharing breakfast.

As expected they were seated on either side of the large island countertop that separated the kitchen and dining area, her father reading over her copy of the Daily Prophet that must have arrived earlier in the morning, while her mother was in the process of pouring coffee for them both as she distractedly looked over the files of the patients she had appointments with later in the day.

Taking a seat on the stool beside her mother Hermione reached for an apple in the bowl of fruit situated in the center of the countertop and held the letter out towards her in a silent question.

Moving the folder containing her patients' files aside her mother took the letter and read it over with a pensive expression on her face as she sipped her coffee. After finishing the letter she handed it over to her husband's outstretched hand with a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As he set aside the paper and adjusted his glasses to read it Hermione turned back to her mother impatiently.

"Well…?"

"Well what?" Her mother replied innocently.

"Well what should I do?"

"Are you going to go out with him?" Her father answered peering over the top of his reading glasses and the folded edge of the letter in his hand, a smile evident in his voice.

Hermione took a vicious bite from her apple and contented herself with glaring at the man who was fully aware as to how she felt about Ron until he laid down the letter and returned to his paper, she then turned expectantly back to her mother; the slight grin on the woman's face didn't bode well.

"You could always tell him you're going out with Harry…"

"Mum!"

Her father burst into light chuckles at her mother's response, burying himself behind the paper while her mother grinned outright at her daughter's obvious discomfort.

"I'm glad you find my life so amusing" Hermione sulked as she buried her face in her hands. Looking up she continued defiantly "Besides I already told you last year, I'm over Harry…he's not interested in me anyway…" the declaration finished somewhat lamely.

- CHAPTER THREE -

House Elf Intervention

Looking into the bathroom mirror Harry gingerly touched the tender flesh surrounding his heavily bruised eye, his training session had been hard that day, apparently the successful and all but silent way in which Harry had completed his chores before lunch had left nothing for Vernon to complain about and subsequently infuriated him all the more, he had decided to release his frustrations by coaching his son to all new levels of brutality.

The reason for the ease in which Harry had completed his chores was currently cleaning his room, repairing old toys and sorting through the piles of things Dudley had discarded over the years. It had been almost three days since Dobby's unexpected arrival and despite the bruises from Dudley's sparring sessions Harry could say that this summer had definitely been his best to date within number four.

As Harry reentered his room and settled at his desk where an open copy of The Auror Training Manual; Grade One lay in preparation for his days study, he took a moment to look over Dobby's progress. Apparently he had decided that all things electrical were useless as he tossed a Gameboy over his shoulder and into the growing pile of items to be disposed of; truth be known, given how Dudley treated his things, he was most likely correct.

As he watched the house elf work Harry took a moment to marvel at his good fortune to have at least one friend with both the desire and the means to visit him within his prison at Private Drive.

The constant and high pitched beep of Harry's alarm clock sounded throughout the room. Why had he decided only yesterday to get up at this hour again? Stretching slightly he contemplated staying in bed until absolutely necessary and skipping the extra training he had promised himself. Feeling a presence in the room he slowly cracked open one eye to be confronted by two bulbous green eyes starring back at him from only inches away.

Turning over Harry pulled the covers closer around him. "I know… I know… I'm late."

After the fact that he was late for weight training and not Transfiguration pierced his sleep fogged mind, Harry spun around to face the small creature that now stood at the end of his bed throwing his blankets aside in the process.

"Dobby…?" Harry whispered disbelievingly.

"Good Morning Harry Potter Sir!"

As Harry continued to stare incredulously at the house elf that was jovially bouncing slightly on the worn mattress he suddenly started to look nervous and began twisting his hands together concernedly before speaking at break neck speed.

"Dobby was concerned Harry Potter Sir… Dobby had not seen Harry Potter before he left from School… Dobby had heard about the Ministry Sir…"

Pausing only long enough to allow Harry time to nod he continued rapidly.

"It is Dobby's day off Sir… Dobby thought he might visit Harry Potter Sir… He does not mean to intrude."

Silence returned to the room quickly but reigned for only a moment. "Good Morning Harry Potter Sir!"

"Morning Dobby…" Harry groaned throwing himself back down upon the bed.

He stayed there for only a moment to catch his breath and process what he had just heard. Hauling himself from the mattress he then proceeded to gather the clothes he would need for the day. While rummaging through the wardrobe he decided that forgoing his morning training for the day would be prudent in favor of a quick shower and cloistering himself in his room for the morning to speak with Dobby and hence keep the manic elf out of trouble.

Turning from the wardrobe to inform Dobby that he would return shortly he was only slightly surprised to see Dobby standing attentively on his now perfectly made bed.

With a slight shake of his head Harry informed him "I'll be right back Dobby."

He then proceeded out of the room and closed the door softly behind him. He could only hope Dobby would remain away from the Dursleys and refrain from using magic. The last thing he needed was another notice for underage magic from the Ministry.

Upon re-entering the room Harry stalled in the doorway to find the small bedroom looking a lot larger than it previously had. Looking around the room Harry realized that it had merely been cleaned with an efficiency and speed that could only be achieved by the house elf that was currently hovering all of the books Dudley had ever received as presents into stacks against the far wall for lack of a bookshelf. After Harry had recovered from the slight panic at the thought of another misunderstanding with the Ministry, especially one this early in the summer, he had settled down at his cleared desk to hear a long overdue confession from his energetic friend.

It turned out what Harry had originally assumed was incompetence from the Improper Use of Magic Office was in fact a tricky bit of magic on Dobby's part allowing him to mask his own presence leaving the hover charm to be attributed to the only other magical being in close proximity, effectively fooling the Ministry. Intrigued by the idea of masking his magic use from the Ministry Harry had immediately inquired if the same could be done for him.

His only reply had been a raised finger and a slight pricking feeling that penetrated his skin and quickly melted away leaving him feeling only slightly heavier than before.

After verifying the effectiveness of Dobby's masking charm Harry had immediately decided that with a few cushioning charms on the far wall he would easily be able to train, even within the confines of his small room. What he needed however was help keeping the Dursleys off his back and more free time. He had also been told by Dobby that the masking charm would have to be replaced daily as it tended to ware off after periods of extended magic use.

With all this in mind he had asked Dobby if he would mind staying in his employ, completing Aunt Petunia's chores without being seen, while replacing the charm when necessary to allow Harry to continue training in secret and generally keeping him company for the remainder of the summer.

Dobby had been ecstatic at the prospect of working for the great wizard Harry Potter and tended his resignation to Hogwarts within the hour. Apparently he had left a rather vague note on the Headmaster's desk and disappeared without a trace, upon reflection Harry supposed that that was best as he wasn't too sure about the laws regarding house elves living in a purely Muggle neighborhood.

Looking through the books he owned he had soon realized that he would need more texts if he was serious about getting any extensive training done. After contemplating a clandestine visit to Diagon Alley and voicing his concerns to Dobby however he had learnt that given the proper authorization, that Harry could easily arrange with Gringotts by letter, Dobby would be able to make any purchases he required through an extensive network of servants' entrances specifically designed to cater to house elves located throughout both Diagon and Knockturn Alley.

Having written the required note to the Goblins allowing Dobby access to his vault, he had then given him instructions to acquire any book Dobby thought he would require advancing his immediate training. Smirking slightly at the house elf's back and shifting through the books Dobby had gotten him; Harry could not help but wonder if Dobby had visited the stores in Knockturn Alley that he must have frequented in the employ of the Malfoys. Several of the tomes he knew to be Illegal, while others were definitely of a dubious origin.

Focusing back on the task at hand Harry began sorting through the numerous books the house elf had bought for him the previous day. Shifting the more credible books like The Standard Book of Spells; Grade 6, and Dueling Against Dark Wizards into a pile at one side of his desk he was in a quandary as to what he should do with the ones he knew to be illegal, especially once he returned to Hogwarts.

It wouldn't be wise to be caught with a full set of Auror training manuals and the numerous field guides that accompanied them; they were controlled by the Ministry after all. What was worse, a few of the other tomes such as Dark Curses for Darker Wizards were defiantly Dark Arts related, and more akin to the sinister books Harry had only previously seen in the restricted section. After searching through his Auror manuals he had discovered that possession of each book could get him up to eighteen months in Azkaban prison, something he defiantly wanted to avoid.

Shifting through the sinister black volumes Harry wondered if he should just burn them all before anyone found out about them, it wasn't like he wanted to learn about the Dark Arts anyway. Harry knew Dobby wouldn't really understand the consequences of what he had done in buying the books, Harry could only hope that none of the purchases could be traced; all he needed was for the Daily Prophet to report that The-Boy-Who-Lived was studying to become the next Dark Lord.

"The Path to Power…Dark Rituals…" Harry mumbled looking over a particularly ancient looking tome.

Casually flipping through its contents Harry immediately recognized that he had seen something similar to the rituals described in this book before. Unconsciously rubbing the small scar on the interior of his arm he scanned over some of the more gruesome rituals, his face twisted in disgust.

He recognized a few ancient runes buried throughout the text, apparently the more extensive rituals called for the use of seals. Hermione had once explained the use of ancient runes in casting enchantments, though he hadn't been paying too much attention at the time. A seal as far as he could tell was a type of enchantment that acted much like a ward; which was a charm, but they were vastly more powerful. Harry hadn't even heard of them being used anywhere outside of Gringotts or places like St. Mungos and the Ministry. Whatever these rituals contained, it was obvious even to Harry that the magic within this book was vastly powerful and most likely incredibly dangerous.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Harry decided that he might as well look over the tome before he got rid of it. At least it could give him some idea of what he was up against, besides, it was interesting; in a war journal kind of way. Moving towards his bed he decided that he could stand to loose a few hours pursuing the book for interests sake before getting back to work, he wouldn't ever be able to look over such a tome again once he got rid of it after all.

- CHAPTER FOUR -

Dabbling in the Dark Arts

It had been almost a week since Dobby's arrival, and so far Harry had organized his time as best he could. He spent the early hours training in the garage each morning, followed by some study while Dobby took care of the cleaning required on Aunt Petunia's list. After the Dursleys had awakened and eaten the breakfast provided for them he would be forced to spar with Dudley till lunch and finally in the afternoon he would spend a few hours in the garden before retiring back to his room to study and practice until he fell asleep.

Harry could hardly believe the Dursleys could be so dense as to not notice Dobby's presence within the home. He had been told on numerous occasions that Muggles did tend to explain away magic for themselves instead of admitting it's influence in their lives, if the Dursleys wanted to explain away the odd happenings in their home or the way in which Harry was supposedly carrying out his chores unseen and live in denial then he wasn't about stop them.

While he had been making some progress with The Standard Book of Spells; Grade 6 and he had read through the first few chapters of Dueling Against Dark Wizards his training had not been proceeding as well as he would have liked. He had even spent some time reading Dark Curses for Darker Wizards it was a lot more interesting than the Ups and Downs of Dodging after all, though a lot more gruesome; he was sure those spots on the inside cover were dried blood of some description.

Sighing deeply he once again picked up the tome that was the cause for most of his distraction, The Path to Power; Dark Rituals, so far he had read through the book twice and each time he had little to no concept of the time spent doing so until his reading was complete or interrupted.

The truth was that without an instructor or Hermione's help like he had had organizing and learning spells for the DA, he was unsure if he could make any real progress. He persevered however, reading and practicing late into the night under the cover of Dobby's masking charm. The Prophesy was still hanging over his head and the threat to his friends was greater than ever, he knew he had to do something, and he couldn't wait around all summer until his return to Hogwarts to do it. He wasn't quite sure where this feeling of urgency came from but he knew he couldn't sit back and do nothing; after all, everyone's lives depended on him.

With this in mind he turned back to the book on ritual magic Dobby had bought for him, it was true they did seem horribly complicated, and some of the repercussions of failure were truly horrendous, but the more he thought about it the more it seemed like his only option. If performed correctly he knew that many of the rituals within the old tome could provide the rapid and powerful results he required; even if he only performed a few of the simpler ones he would have a major advantage by the time he returned to school.

Tonight was the night he had decided to perform his first ever ritual. It was fairly simple in comparison to some of the others he had briefly looked over and the consequences of failure were not quite as severe, even so the thought of failure wasn't really an option. The specific ritual he had selected was a complete restorative, a healing spell of sorts he supposed.

He had read in the preface of the tome that mid-night was the best time to perform any ritual and it was with bated breath that he waited, he knew it wouldn't do to start questioning himself now. Flipping through the book he turned to the required page, above an extensive and complicated set of instructions laid a brief description of the ritual along with a list of side-effects and consequences if it was not carried out correctly or interrupted in anyway.

Dark Ritual; Body Restorative

Runic Symbolism; Purge the Suffering

Brief; One of the simpler Dark Rituals this process is designed as a full body restorative and is used by the shrewd practitioner as a means to prepare the body for the rigors of practicing the art. While not able to increase the health of the practitioner to beyond normal wizarding limits or heal the mentally disabled the recipient will be returned to perfect physical health even after extended periods of malnutrition, torture, or exposure. Once complete the practitioner should be able to enjoy perfect health regardless of any adverse effects previously experienced.

Side-Effects; Severe Migraines, Temporary Dementia, Physical Discomfort, Nausea

Consequences of Failure; Severe Pain, Physical Discomfort, Disfigurement, Permanent Paralysis, Dementia

Preparing everything he needed for the ritual had been an arduous task, involving several trips by Dobby to Diagon Alley and elsewhere to find the required materials. In truth Harry was not sure if he wanted to know where some of the more illicit items had been procured from, but he was thankful that Dobby had managed to gather them without to much difficulty.

It had seemed that Harry would have to give up on the plan entirely however when he realized just how complicated and delicate each of the potions required truly were. He knew without a doubt that with his meager potion making abilities he would never be able to create them. He also knew that the number of repetitions and direction a potion was stirred in did serve to imbue the potion with magical energy from the potions creator. As such it was thought that only witches and wizards had any chance of creating magical potions, and there was no-one Harry could ask to create them for him.

It wasn't until Harry recalled having once seen a self-stirring cauldron in Diagon Alley that his problem was solved. After Dobby had retrieved the small silver cauldron and Harry had followed the detailed instructions on how to imbue the item with his own magical energy it became a simple task to allow the house elf to take over the entire operation of ingredients preparation and brewing.

Dobby had proceeded to follow the instructions Harry had copied from the tome with a precision that even Hermione wouldn't be able to fault. He was confident that they had all turned out perfectly, after all Dobby had years of experience following complex cooking recipes, this couldn't be so much different.

The room itself had also been prepared earlier in the day. Dobby had cleared the room completely, silently placing everything in the garage where it wouldn't be noticed by the Dursleys until after the ritual was complete and it could all be returned to the room. In the barren room he had then carved the required Ritual Circle into the wooden floor boards with the utmost care.

Harry placed the seven light blue candles with unicorn hair wicks he had requested at precise intervals around the circle taking a moment to light each one filling the room with sweet clear incense. He then placed the two potions that would be required, one a light-blue similar to the candles containing both phoenix tears and powdered unicorn horn that needed to be drunk, and the second a murky black that smoked slightly containing both dragon and unicorn blood that needed to be spread over the circle beneath him, inside the circle alongside the single black candle, light-blue silk rope and his own wand that would also all be required at various stages throughout the night.

Turning to face Dobby who until now had remained silent standing in the corner of the room with an apprehensive look upon his face, he removed his shirt and placing it aside indicated towards small silver knife lying on the floor between them. It had taken Harry the better part of a day to convince Dobby to help him with this part of the preparations, and only after explaining the dire consequences should he fail did he agree to help, or in this case harm his friend.

Harry closed his eyes as Dobby slowly levitated the silver knife into position hovering point first just before the bare skin of his chest. The book had said that this was the part of the ritual preparation that caused the trouble for most, as pain and poor perspective could make the carving of runes into the body an arduous task, in fact it was responsible for most failures second only to the complicated potions used.

Harry was not sure if having Dobby magically carve the runes would alter the ritual any, but knew regardless of any pain he had suffered though before carving them by his own hand would be next to impossible. The tome didn't make mention of any particular method that needed to be followed in carving the runes apart from the fact that a silver knife had to be used. In the end he had made the decision that ensuring the precision of the cuts seemed paramount.

With a quick and stinging pain not unlike that he had received from the blood-letting quill used in detention the year before the knife flashed along his exposed skin carving the fifteen necessary ancient runes.

Opening his eyes Harry could see the regret and remorse for the injuries he had caused shinning brightly in the watery green eyes of his friend, thankfully however Dobby remained silent as the blade was lowered back to the floor. Taking a look at his chest and abdomen Harry could see that the almost surgical quality of the knife along with the blinding speed in which Dobby had carved the runes he was shown the night before had ensured that even his own flinch of pain had done nothing to disturb the precision of the slightly weeping wounds that now covered his body.

The preparations now complete Harry returned to the circle, took his prescribed kneeling position within, and raised the first of the potions to his lips. After draining the goblet of the slightly sweet tasting liquid he raised his wand to speak the first incantation, the one that would seal his fate, he would complete the ritual during the night, or suffer the consequences.

Harry winced slightly at the brightness of the sun spilling from his window and across the bed. Sitting up slowly with his eyes closed he held his head in an effort to quell the pounding headache he had awoken with. Each pulse of blood in his veins resounded like a drum threatening to spilt open his skull, and he dully wondered when he had gotten drunk enough to wake up with such a hangover.

The sudden rush of bile to the back of his throat bought him quickly to the edge of the mattress as he spilled the contents of his stomach onto the floor. It was then, hanging over the side of his bed, that he noticed the stained carving of the Ritual Circle he had used in the body restorative ritual.

With a suddenly clarity he remembered the events of what he assumed was the night before as he had no way of telling how long he had been unconscious. Turning to place his feet on the floor, being careful to keep clear of the mess he had just made, he could now remember lucidly the dark black smoke that had billowed in a seemingly never ending stream from the runes on his chest to join with that rising from the spilt potion beneath him as he completed the ritual. Eleven years of neglect at the hands of the Dursleys accompanied with all the damage he had done to himself at school apparently took a lot of purging, he remembered having wondered if the stream would ever end. It must have been sometime after this that he had fallen unconscious, and looking around the room he could only assume it was Dobby that had restored the furniture and put him to bed.

Looking towards his clock he knew that the Dursleys would still be sleeping, which meant that Dobby would most likely be busy cleaning the house. As another rush of bile entered his throat he left the room as quickly as he could still holding his head against the relentless pounding and made his way to the bathroom, after evacuating his stomach once more, into the toilet this time, he moved to the sink to wash his face and the taste out of his mouth.

"Severe Migraines and Nausea…" He mumbled to himself, remembering a few of the potential side-effects listed along with the ritual.

Looking blearily into the mirror before him it took him a moment to recognize the face starring back at him. Ruefully it was his scarred forehead that allowed recognition to set in. With a slight start of surprise, the movement accompanied by another painful throbbing of his head, he realized that he could clearly see his reflection without the aid of the glasses that he had neglected to put on as he had hurriedly left the room.

Taking a step back to get a better look at himself, he immediately noticed that he had miraculously grown several inches overnight. He was pushing almost six feet he supposed and had filled out quite considerably as well. What was once a scrawny boy of wry muscle toned only by Quidditch was now a young man, his body considerably larger and adorned with a musculature more along the lines of a professional athlete.

That was not the only difference however, it seemed that apart from his infamous lightning bolt, all other scars on his body had been healed; everything from the cut on his arm gained during Voldemort's resurrection to the circular blemish that had marked where a basilisk fang once punctured his skin had vanished.

Looking closer he could see that all blemishes had vanished, even marks caused by sun damage, or scars he had had since childhood were gone. Turning slightly to get a look at his back he could only compare his skin to that of a small child, completely smooth and untouched by the ravages of time.

"Oh Merlin…" He groaned.

"How am I ever going to explain this…?"

- CHAPTER FIVE -

Blood Brothers

Harry awoke with a feeling similar to that of a damp blanket covering his mind, if such a thing were possible. He felt incredibly sluggish and slow witted; only the slow repetitive whine of his alarm was able to pierce his otherwise befuddled senses. After a few staggering steps away from his bed he collapsed to the floor in a heap unable to determine the direction in which the door to his bedroom was located, and the bathroom he had half a mind to get to.

"Harry Potter Sir…?"

The slow speech of his current room-mate Dobby could be heard from somewhere nearby. The feeling of something clamped onto his arm seemed to bring some sense of himself back as his mind slowly began to speed up. Looking to his side he saw that Dobby had a firm grasp on his upper arm and was shaking him slightly.

"You do not look well Harry Potter Sir… Dobby should not be letting you do this!"

"I'll be fine Dobby…" Harry croaked in return, his voice horse and throat painfully raw.

"How long was I out this time?"

"Hours and hours Harry Potter Sir… it is the day of your letter writing… the fat boy tried to get in but Dobby did not allow it… Master Harry should be resting his magic is not healed yet."

"Atrophy…?" Harry peered crookedly at Dobby's small form before lying back on the cool wooden floor and sighing with relief at the sensation such an act provided.

Taking a moment to recover from his sudden attack of vertigo Harry sat back up and turning from Dobby's concerned gaze took a moment to survey his room. Realizing that Dobby must have replaced all the furniture to its proper place while he was unconscious he sent him a grateful smile before hauling himself back to his feet.

The ritual he had performed on the summer solstice, the 21st of June, two nights ago, if Dobby was be trusted; which he was, had taken a lot more out of him than he had originally thought it would. Focusing his eyes on the far wall he starred blankly at the seal that had been set by the runes carved there.

Turning in place he could see all the seals that had been cast, the runes carved into various places on all four walls, add that to the heavily stained and slightly burnt pattern that marked where the Ritual Circle was partially hidden by his bed and he couldn't help but chuckle lightly at the thought of all this magic taking place in the Dursley's home.

As soon as the thought past through his mind he couldn't help but laugh outright at the following thought of his Aunt screaming about his devil worshipping ways if she could only see his room now. The appearance of the runes on the walls and candle snubs on his desk did truly lend itself to a very clichéd view of witchcraft and wizardry.

"Are the Dursleys here Dobby?"

"No Sir the Dursleys have gone for the day." He replied still peering concernedly at his friend "Is Master Harry well Sir…Dobby was worried about Mr. Dumbledore's Order Sir…That they might come with no letter."

"I'm fine Dobby, I feel a lot better than the last time…I think I might have a shower though."

Giving a reassuring smile to the elf Harry made his way down the hall to the bathroom, quickly stripped off the clothes he had been wearing for the last two days, and stepped into the shower. As the warm water drowned out his senses and forced his sore body to relax Harry wondered if the ritual had been a success, he wasn't dead, so at least that was a good sign.

It had been some time since the fiasco of Harry appearing before the Dursleys as a new man, his uncle had been furious with him when he arrived at Dudley's morning training session that day in considerably better shape than either of them. Only after telling his Uncle that the Order had sent him a magic potion for his health and that if he didn't take it they most likely would have shown up to make him had Vernon calmed down enough to tell him to get out of his sight.

Since then however he had settled back into the same routine as before. The Dursleys obviously under the impression that if they ignored his physical changes then they could at least pretend that they hadn't happened. Harry was beginning to wonder if living in such a state of denial was really all that healthy for them.

Harry's training was still not going as well as he had hoped, sure perfect health was nice, but he wasn't any more skilled or powerful than before and it was with this thought that his mind had once again settled on the tome of ritual magic. In a futile effort to derail that line of thinking Harry had spent a lot of time watching Dobby go about his duties.

It was during this time that Harry had asked Dobby if it would be possible for him to teach Harry how to apparate. With a truly regretful expression on his face Dobby had informed him that he didn't know how, and that what Harry had mistook for apparition was merely Dobby 'shifting' himself much in the same way as he had 'shifted' the furniture to the garage or the elves at Hogwarts 'shifted' the food laden plates from the kitchens to the tables above. Indeed the only similarity Dobby knew of was the sound caused by the displacement of air, which if he so chose he could mask with a silencing charm allowing him to go about his duties in secrecy.

Harry of course had then inquired if it was possible for Dobby to teach him how to 'shift' or indeed any of the other things the small elf was capable of. Dobby had simply informed him that it was impossible as his magic 'moved' in a different way to Harry's and that only other elves could learn his brand of magic.

With this in mind Harry had taken up the tome again searching for a specific ritual that he recalled dealt with the transference of magical abilities, while he didn't know if the ritual could even be made to include the abilities of another species the mere thought of harnessing the vast magical power that Dobby seemed to possess was to enticing to pass up. Casting his mind back he could clearly envision the passage he had memorized over the last few weeks.

Dark Ritual; Power of Blood

Runic Symbolism;

Subject; My Blood, My Power, Yours

Practitioner; Your Blood, Your Power, Mine

Brief; A extensive Dark Ritual used to share the magical abilities of others this Ritual has only found limited use, depending on the subject used by the Practitioner any number of different magical abilities can be gained. In the past this Ritual has been used to transfer the abilities of a Metamorphmagus or Seer though the later with limited results. While this Ritual can be performed at any time the best results have been achieved upon the Summer Solstice.

Side-Effects; Magical Atrophy, Black-Outs, Severe Migraines, Temporary Physical Paralysis, Disfigurement, Nausea, Fever, Temporary Dementia, Recurring Pain and Physical Discomfort

Consequences of Failure; Death of Subjects, Magical Paralysis, Extensive Disfigurement, Dementia

Standing under the warm spray of the shower and recalling the warnings that had been associated with it Harry could hardly believe he had even attempted such a ritual, not to mention the fact that he had persuaded Dobby to help him. Not for the first time Harry wondered if there was some other force at work within the books binding.

Feeling his strength slowly return Harry finished his shower and made his way back to his room. Still disbelieving of what he had done Harry vowed to himself that he would leave the book alone. Not only had preparing for the ritual taken the better part of two weeks in which his room was filled with multiple cauldrons of potions in various stages of completion, but he had also had to deface his room with multiple seals that he was sure would be immediately recognizable as being used in the Dark Arts should anyone from the Order arrive at the Dursley residence. The truth was that after he had found the required ritual and thought through what he would hypothetically need if he were to perform it he had been unable to stop from proceeding with little thought to the consequences.

The real possibility that Harry might have killed not only himself but Dobby with him hadn't really registered in his mind while he was fixated on completing the ritual, now that it was complete and they had both survived, Harry felt completely sick with himself that he would have risked his friend's life in such a way.

Entering his bedroom Harry took a seat on the end of his bed and once again became aware of the heavy feeling on his mind. It was as if cotton wool had been wedged between his brain and skull leaving him feeling somewhat drowsy in his thought processes.

"You is a house elf…"

The awed voice of his elven friend broke thought his haze quickly and looking to where Dobby stood in the centre of the room Harry could clearly see the awe and disbelief in his eyes.

"Dobby…?"

"You is a house elf Master Harry…Dobby can feels your magic." He responded his awed expression quickly replaced with a combined expression of excitement and apprehension. "You has magic that is moving like Dobby's!"

"You can feel my magic?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"Master Harry can feel Dobby's magic too," He stated as if it should be obvious.

Dobby had already explained to Harry in simplistic terms how he 'felt' magic flow and move, and while Harry knew that Dobby was unable to explain the sensation anymore clearly he was still doubtful that he could 'feel' any magic at all let alone Dobby's, he didn't feel any different than he had several days ago before the ritual, he certainly didn't feel as if he had any extra magic that was moving differently within him.

In fact closing his eyes the only difference he could feel was the thick feeling permeating his body, concentrating on this feeling with annoyance he willed it away trying to focus his mind. After a few moments the feeling vanished quite suddenly leaving his mind completely clear and he realized with a start that he could still locate Dobby within the room even with his eyes closed, it was like he could, 'feel' him or something.

Snapping his eyes open Harry could feel the beginnings of a grin spread across his face at Dobby's rapturous expression and slightly watering eyes.

"Dobby can be teaching Master Harry…Dobby can teach him to shift and move…You can be learning to be quiet and keep your secrets…and Dobby can teach you to control …Master Harry is a house elf!" Dobby exclaimed ecstatically bouncing forwards and onto the bed.

"Keep my secrets?" Harry asked somewhat confusedly.

"Oh yes Master Harry" Dobby nodded enthusiastically "All good house elves keep their secrets…but first Dobby will teach you shifting…shifting is what house elves do best…but Master Harry must not remove his masking again or people will tell he is doing magic."

Dobby quickly followed up his statement with a raised finger and Harry was taken by surprise as he 'felt' a rush of power from the small creature expand towards him before settling over his mind like a heavy wet blanket.

"Now Master Harry must pay attention and feel Dobby's magic"

With that said Dobby disappeared from the end of the bed with a slight 'crack' and appeared on the other side of the room in a similar fashion. While Harry had seen him do this more times this summer than he could count what he was not prepared for was to actually 'sense' or 'feel' the rush of power that emanated from the small creature, followed by the 'feeling' of that power 'pushing' him across the room.

"Now repeat!" Dobby stated passionately.

"Repeat?" Harry asked dazedly, still in shock from actually having 'felt' magic at work.

"Yes, repeat… all house elves must learn by feeling and repeating…you must feel your magic repeat mine." Dobby explained patiently yet commandingly.

Apart from the shock of having Dobby having seemingly become an authority figure and instructor within the space of a few seconds Harry was sure he had no idea how to make his magic 'repeat' Dobby's. And the 'feeling' he now recognized as the masking charm was again making him feel somewhat drowsy.