A/N: Hi, everybody! Welcome back! Chapter two awaits just a scroll down away.
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Chapter Two: The Weight of Prophecy
Harry wasn't sure which was worse – the stinking cloud of alcoholic vapor that poured out of his skin or the violent bout of nausea that had him bent over the kitchen sink for several minutes, valiantly trying to puke up not just the contents of his stomach but the organ itself – with all its neighbors by the feel of it.
Finally he stopped trying to vomit himself inside out, and Remus, once again normal colored, was immediately beside him, a wonderfully cool, wet cloth for his face, a strong arm to help him to a chair.
"Sorry about that pup. That's an Auror spell used for emergencies, when there's no time for sleeping off a bender."
As he spoke, Remus finished wiping Harry's sweaty face, and Dobby produced a cup of steaming tea.
"Drink it," Shack added, sitting down beside the teen, "you'll feel fine afterwards. While there's an excellent hangover potion available, we needed you sober now, not late tomorrow morning."
Hermione sat opposite Harry, and gave a snort of laughter. "Can you imagine the look on Mrs. Weasley's face if she arrived tonight to find you passed out drunk? We'd never hear the end of it!"
Harry, sipping his tea, choked then coughed madly, Kingsley helpfully smacking him on the back. "Merlin, what a thought!" He gasped, flinching away from the Senior Auror's remarkably heavy hand.
"Is she...ahhh...very motherly?" Dan asked delicately, holding out a chair for his wife before seating himself.
The others all traded glances, then burst out laughing.
"You could say that," Remus agreed.
"So motherly, in fact, her two oldest sons moved to Egypt and Romania, the next one sold his soul to the Ministry, while the Twins relocated to their joke shop in Diagon Alley," Shack added, nodding his thanks to Winky who had just set out tea, cakes and other edibles for everybody.
"She really does mean well," Hermione explained to her parents, as she poured Harry another cup of tea. "She loves them all so much, and worries incessantly about them. She lost her twin brothers in the first war with V...Voldemort, so she's terrified she'll lose her children this time."
"The first war?" Emma asked, a slice of cream-filled sponge half way to her mouth.
"Yeah... back in the seventies and eighties when he killed my parents," Harry said quietly.
Remus glanced at his nephew's downcast face, and turned to the Grangers. "I gather Hermione has shared some things with you, but she wouldn't know much about that time, so let me explain."
He then proceeded to give a succinct and through run-through of Voldemort's first rise to power, the political situation at the time, the major players - including the Potters and Sirius, Dumbledore, various Death Eaters and Pettigrew, followed by the pivotal events in Godric's Hollow and a synopsis of more current events, Harry and Hermione adding details here and there.
"So now he's back, in a body that's basically a magical construct, most likely consolidating his power base, inducting and marking more Death Eaters, gathering information and acquiring supplies and funds," he said finally, a slump to his shoulders.
"So what's the government doing? That Minister of Magic you mentioned?" Emma asked, glancing over at the teens who'd both made sounds of disgust.
"Fudge?" Shack asked, putting his cup down and resting his elbows on the table. "Not a damn thing. He's denying anything is wrong, refuses to believe He Who Must Not Be Named is back, refuses to increase Auror funding, refuses to increase security anywhere, including Azkaban itself, refuses to do any bloody thing at all!" Remus patted Shack's arm, then gripped it as the big Auror took a deep breath and fought for calmness.
Dan shook his head, bewildered. "Didn't you say this Fudge bloke saw Voldemort?"
"He did," Harry said, "but I had told him about Voldemort's rebirth at the end of the Tri-Wizard Tournament too! He's been in denial since then. He even arranged for Barty Crouch Jr to be kissed by a Dementor...I think to stop him talking."
"What if the Dementors were already working for Voldemort then?" Interjected Hermione. "Those foul things were awfully focused on you long before Sirius made it to Hogwarts."
"Hmmm...that's true. It was the perfect way to make sure he couldn't be questioned by Aurors or in front of the Wizengamot." Harry agreed, his brow furrowed in thought.
Dan raised his hand, like a kid in a classroom. "Kissed?" He asked. "Doesn't sound too bad!" He looked at Emma as he spoke, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Remus sighed, setting his tea cup down with a clink. "Not that kind of kiss, I'm sorry to say," he said sadly. "A Dementor is a foul, loathsome, possibly demonic creature, born of hatred, despair and and cruelty! They feed on memories and emotions, their mere presence forcing all people near them to relive their worst memories over and over."
"That's revolting!" Emma said, clearly disgusted.
"Oh, it gets worse," Kingsley said, as he slid one arm around his lover's shoulders, and gripped Harry's forearm with his free hand. "Besides the forced negative memory recall, a Dementor's mere presence sucks out all positive, happy memories. The longer, and closer, the contact, the more good, decent, joyful memories are lost... permanently."
"And that's not the worst either," Hermione added. "In the wizarding world, the existence of the soul isn't theoretical, or a matter of faith. We know the human soul exists and that it's vital for life and continued existence – because a Dementor can suck it out. That's what the Kiss is, Dad. It's a demonic creature sucking out your soul, leaving nothing but an empty shell."
"A shell that breathes, lives for a while, but the person is gone," Remus added. "The body finally dies or, more commonly, is given mercy, if the family want that."
The Grangers were clinging to each other, white and sickened. "M...mercy?" Emma whispered.
"Euthanasia, Mum," Hermione explained sadly. "The Healers at St. Mungo's have a specific spell for it. A deep sleep, so deep the body stops breathing. Painless and peaceful. Once a person's been Kissed, there's no hope for recovery."
"You know abou... never mind," Remus said, frowning at the young witch.
"Wh...what about the souls? Do they...erm...'go on'? Pass over?" Dan asked, clearly horrified.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Kingsley asked back.
The Grangers exchanged a look, then both nodded firmly.
The big man shrugged. "Okay. As far as we know the Dementor that Kisses a person keeps their soul and...well...feeds off it is the best description."
Emma was shaking, her face slightly green. "That's monstrous!" She hissed. "Evil! Vile! What kind of people are you to...to...use these demons to do that to other humans?"
"You need to remember ours is not a Christian, or any any other kind of religious, society," Remus said firmly. "We have no clergy, no churches, no prayers. The view of the soul is more of it being the simple animating spark of life, there's nothing sacred or mystical about it. If asked, most wizards believe there's nothing after death. Only a few, like Professor Dumbledore, speak of 'The Next Great Adventure.' For the most part the Kiss is simply seen as a way of causing death, like being shot or hanged. No more, no less."
Clearly Dan and Emma weren't accepting that. Hermione got up and went to them, hugging and being hugged by them both. "It took me a long time to understand it too," she said, her voice muffled by her mother's hair. "I do not agree with it – I think it an abomination – but I understand that wizarding society, at least here in Britain, sees it the way Remus describes."
"Oddly enough, it's only in Britain you can find Dementors," Remus added. "They and Lethifolds are both driven away by a Patronus, and a Lethifold can actually be destroyed by a strong one. Lethifolds are found worldwide, with minor differences depending on region. However, no Dementor has ever been seen outside of the United Kingdom. There are a few in Ireland, but the vast majority are found here in Scotland, England and Wales. There's also no record of a Dementor ever being destroyed by anything."
"We know they can breed, Dementors," Kingsley said, "but only under specific conditions and only the strongest ones. There's currently 327 known Dementors, all stationed at Azkaban, the wizarding prison."
Emma, clinging to her husband and daughter, stared at the big Auror. "So... you're saying not only are criminals in your world sent to some isolated prison, while there, they are endlessly tortured, lose their lives' worth of memories and may even lose their souls?"
"Yes," Kingsley said bluntly. "The presence of the Dementors prevents the prisoners from using their magic, rendering them helpless, otherwise we'd have few options as far as controlling them goes."
Dan sighed, running his fingers through his graying hair. "All of this makes me realize just how different our worlds are," he said. "If this, and your world, became common knowledge you'd be wiped out in a heartbeat. Evil done in the name of good is still evil. I can't begin to put into words how utterly revolted I am about what you've told us. Before, I was bewildered, a bit lost, a bit frightened of your world, worried about losing my little girl into it, into somewhere her mother and I couldn't follow her."
He looked up at Hermione, then gently cupped her face in his hands. "Now," he almost whispered, "now, I detest your world. I think it an evil, frightening place, filled with corruption both temporal and spiritual. I consider your leaders, their morals and ethics, beyond questionable. And, if they are considered the good, then this Voldemort of yours must be horrifying indeed."
He smiled sadly at his daughter. "If I could Hermione, I'd take you and Emma as far from here as possible. Part of me is willing to leave this midden of a society to drown in it's own degradation and filth...but I can't. You are a witch, and a beautiful, moral and honorable person, and I know young Harry here, and Remus and Kingsley, are too. I have to believe there are others worth helping, others who find these abominations as foul as I or your mother do, even if not for quite the same reason."
"There are, Dan," Harry spoke up, his face sad, his eyes haunted. "Every time I'm near a Dementor, I hear my mum pleading with Voldemort not to kill me, and then him murdering her. I've seen what twelve years in Azkaban did to my Godfather. I think the Dementors will join Voldemort because he'll happily give them what they want."
He stood up abruptly, clutching the back of his chair so tightly his knuckles gleamed white. "When I fight him, I'll also be fighting them...and other evil things he'll have with him...and I have no idea how I'm supposed to do that."
All the others stared at him, various degrees of shock on their faces.
"What do you mean when you fight him?" Hermione asked at last. "That sounds like you think you're the only one who can kill him or something, and that's just silly. You're still at school. You're only just turning sixt..."
Her voice died as she looked at her friend's anguished face, at the tears in his emerald eyes.
"What the fuck is going on?" Remus growled. "Was it that letter you got?"
Harry slowly turned to look at his mentor and friend. "No! The letter was from Sirius. Read it. He said to show it to you. You all need to read it. I thought I had to do all of it alone, I was told I had to...but I can't. Just read it then come to the library. I need... I need a few minutes."
With that, Harry strode out of the kitchen. Both Remus and Hermione went to follow but were stopped by Kingsley and Emma.
"Respect his wishes," Dan said, his eyes on the kitchen door. "Remus, you read the letter out, then we'll all go talk to Harry."
-I- - -
When they all entered the library they found Harry standing by the tapestry. He pointed to it. "I first saw that Sirius' name was back, with a connecting line to me as Harry James Potter-Black, but look, Andromeda Tonks is repaired too, so Sirius must have done something about her being kicked out for marrying that Muggleborn."
"It seems he's also adopted you," Remus said quietly. "I knew he wanted to. That's most likely the reason he was so emphatic about you going to Gringott's, to complete the adoption. If the Malfoys, or even Dumbledore, got wind of this before it's finalized, they'd do everything possible to try and stop it."
"The Malfoys?" Dan asked, glancing at his wife. "Wasn't it a Malfoy you slapped once sweetie?" He added, looking at Hermione, who had her arms around Harry's waist, his head resting on his shoulder.
"Yes Dad, Draco Malfoy, a foul mouthed, evil little cockroach who thinks he's God's gift to the world, and calls me Mudblood because I'm a first generation witch, while his family has been marrying their cousins for twenty generations." Harry gave a muffled snort of amusement at her description, making Hermione smile.
"His father Lucius is a dangerous piece of work," Kingsley said. "He's the epitome of wizarding aristocracy, very wealthy, very smooth. He's a Death Eater who managed to avoid prosecution in the first war by claiming he'd been Imperioed. However, he was caught at the Ministry at the time Sirius died. In the past, he's managed to wriggle out of everything because of the bribes he's paid. Fudge thinks the sun shines out his inbred arse."
"His wife Narcissa was a Black. She and her sisters, Andromeda and Bellatrix," Remus spat out the last name, "were Sirius' cousins. Andi married for love, a very fine Muggleborn wizard named Ted Tonks – and was promptly disinherited. Bella married Rudolphus Lestrange, a sadistic bastard with a mile long pedigree but little money, who has followed Voldemort for years. Cissy wed Lucius in the society do of its day. She's a cold, cold woman, always walks around with an expression of distaste on her face, like she smelled something nasty."
"Bellatrix is a sadistic killer," Kingsley took up the description as Remus paused for breath. "She spent years in Azkaban after the first war for torturing two Aurors into insanity. They were young Neville Longbottom's parents. She was liberated, along with her husband and several others some time ago, and turned up at the Ministry with Lucius. While Malfoy, her husband and nine others were captured there, thanks in part to Harry and your daughter, she escaped. She is He Who Must Not Be Named's torturer of choice, she gets off on causing pain and has no remorse or mercy in her."
"Andi, on the other hand," Remus said, smiling at his partner, "is a lovely, kind woman, cultured, well bred and charming. Ted is a good bloke and their daughter is an Auror."
"What a bizarre family!" Emma said, frowning. 'So how is it the Malfoys could interfere with Sirius' Will?"
"The Blacks are patrilineal," Remus explained. "Sirius' brother died without issue as did Sirius...except he adopted Harry. I'm betting he's made arrangements for a blood adoption ceremony, meaning Harry will take in some of his blood, making him Sirius' heir by law, blood and magic. If Harry doesn't complete the ceremony, Narcissa has grounds to contest on behalf of her son – the next nearest male heir."
"I gather the Black estate is substantial?" Dan asked shrewdly.
"Very," Remus agreed.
"I don't want his money," Harry snarled, pulling away from Hermione. "I don't want anything from his death!"
"If you don't take what Sirius wants to give you, it all goes to Draco," Remus said bluntly, "and Narcissa will give it all to Voldemort."
That hung in the air and Harry scowled, until finally his shoulders hunched and tears sprang up in his eyes. "I don't want it," he whispered, and all the others gathered around him holding him between them as he cried.
Finally he calmed and in a dead voice told them how Dumbledore had locked him in his office after he'd seen Sirius die, how he'd smashed up the room, how Dumbledore had then told him the prophecy and laid the weight of being a murderer on his shoulders, along with the fate of the entire wizarding world.
He then continued on, describing how he'd been told to keep it to himself, that his special power was supposedly love, and that it had been Snape who had overheard the first half of the prophecy, told his master and set the whole awful chain of events in motion. As his voice cracked and wavered, he told them the prophesy, how he had been tortured by Umbridge, ignored by Dumbledore, mind-raped by Snape and tricked by Voldemort.
Finally, he told them how he'd seen the attack by Nagini on Mr. Weasley, Dumbledore's fears that Voldemort could possess him and thus spy on Albus and the Order, and finally the horror of Voldemort actually possessing him briefly in the Department of Mysteries.
Emma and Hermione were both sobbing, Dan looked furious, Kingsley was pale and stunned while the normally stoic Remus was boiling mad.
"I'm going to kill him!" He snarled, his eyes a feral yellow, his wolf so close to the surface the others could smell it. "I'm going to gut him and strangle him with his own intestines! Then, I'm going to skin Snape alive!"
"No Remus, you're not,' Dan snapped, "as that would only see you put down like some rabid dog. Harry needs all of us clear-headed and functional, not rampaging all over the place like bloodthirsty idiots!"
The two men locked eyes, but it was the werewolf who dropped his gaze first. "You're right Dan, you're right," he sighed, pulling a clean hankie from a pocket and handing it to Hermione, who ignored her own wet cheeks in favor of wiping Harry's.
"Come on everyone. Let's sit down and discuss this calmly," Dan added, suiting action to words by steering Emma into a chair. The others followed, Harry flopping onto the rug in front of the fire, Hermione choosing to sit beside him. Remus and Kingsley sat together on the couch, the werewolf resting his head on his lover's broad shoulder as he calmed down.
Emma lent forward and placed Sirius' letter on the table in the center. "How accurate is prophecy?" She asked at last. "How much faith can we place in it?"
Remus sighed. 'Normally, I'd have my doubts, but in a way what we think doesn't really matter. Clearly, both Dumbledore and Voldemort believe it and both have acted accordingly."
"Well Voldemort sure marked me!" Harry said, touching his scar. "According to Dumbledore, it could have been either Nev or me, but Voldemort chose me."
"Then if the prophecy is to be believed, you're Voldemort's equal right now," Dan said, "maybe not in experience, but in power."
"His coming after you so often has certainly forced you to develop more rapidly than your peers," Remus said thoughtfully.
"Huh," Harry grunted. "I'm nothing special, my O.W.L's were average, I'm nowhere near as smart as Hermione."
"Actually Harry, that's not entirely true," Hermione said pensively.
"I agree," Remus added, "your corporeal Patronus at age thirteen being a case in point.'
Harry shook his head. "That took me ages to learn," he said, "and the only reason it worked down by the lake was because I'd seen my other time-turned self so I knew I could do it."
Remus turned to his lover. "Shack, how many Aurors can do a corporeal Patronus?"
The big man thought for a moment. "A third of us, maybe a bit more," he said at last, "and that's way ahead of the general magical population."
"Your parents couldn't do one until after they had turned twenty. All of us in the Order are taught how to do them but not all of us can," Remus said.
"Mum and Dad had Patroni?" Harry asked eagerly and Remus smiled.
"Indeed they did – a beautiful pair of Griffins, a female for James and a male for Lily, but they had failed to make more than vapor in seventh year, when the spell is normally taught at Hogwarts."
"But I taught most of the D.A to produce Patroni!" Harry exclaimed. "It can't be that hard!"
"What?" Remus was taken aback.
"Huh?" Shack added, equally amazed.
"Here, I'll show you," Hermione grinned, drawing her wand. Within moments her svelte silver otter was nosing about in the Library, before disappearing in a cloud of sparkles.
"I'm... I'm... totally amazed!" Remus spluttered, Shack simply nodding.
"Cho Chang has a swan, Susan Bones a terrier, Neville a bear and Luna a snorkack," Harry explained.
"A what?" Remus asked, bemused.
"A crumple-horned snorkack,' Hermione said, smiling. "I'm not convinced they really exist but her Patronus is one."
"Most of the rest of the D. A can create large vapor shields," Harry said. "We worked on them for weeks."
"How remarkable," Remus mused. "You must be a truly excellent teacher!"
"He is," Hermione said proudly, "and that's part of the reason I think he's much stronger and better at magic than me."
"Don't be silly Hermione! You know at least ten times the number of spells I do," Harry protested.
"I think that's because you hide your light under a bushel," the young witch explained.
"Huh?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You just don't try. Ron could always distract you into goofing off. During the Tri-Wizard, you showed excellent research skills, a rapid acquisition of new spells, several of which were quite advanced, and your memory was just fine. If you'd only taken Arithmancy and Runes with me instead of that useless Divination."
"I... I... did all those things?"
"The Patronus you cast at those Slytherins during the Quidditch match in third year was amazing," Remus said "as was your summoning of your broom during the Tri-Wizard from almost a mile away."
"He did what?" Shack demanded, and the other two explained.
The big Auror turned a piercing stare upon Harry. "I've never heard of anyone being able to do that," he said quietly. "Summoning something that big that far is supposedly impossible."
"Hermione taught me," Harry said defensively. "She can do it too."
"Ummm...actually Harry, I can't. I tried doing an equivalent after the tournament was over, but the furthest I could do was a couple hundred yards – as long as it was line of sight."
Harry stared at her. "Really?"
She nodded. "Really. I knew from first year you were special, I just didn't know why."
"Might I ask a personal question?" Dan interjected.
"I guess," Harry agreed, a trifle ungraciously.
Dan smiled. "Not too personal, I promise. When you were with your cousins, did they encourage you to read, to do well in school?"
Harry shook his head. "Any time my marks were better than Dudley's, I was punished," he said, bitterness coloring his voice. "One time in fourth grade, I aced a math test. The teacher thought I'd somehow cheated and when my aunt and uncle found out, I was locked in my cupboard without food for a week."
"Therein lies the problem," Dan said. "You learned not to learn. Your parents, I gather, were both brilliant, gifted and powerful." He looked at Remus for confirmation and the werewolf nodded. "Well then, you clearly have the inborn genetic ability, you just need the confidence to try," Dan continued calmly.
"That kind of negative early conditioning is tough to overcome," Emma added, "but with help, and with you keeping an open mind, you can overcome it."
Before Harry could say anything in response, Hermione gasped, one hand going to her mouth. "Oh no!" She said sharply. "He wouldn't have! He couldn't have!"
"He who?" Harry asked, confused.
"What is it Hermione?" Remus demanded.
The young witch was pale and looked close to tears. "Remus, can you or Shack check Harry for bindings or blocks on his magic?"
Remus stared at her for a long moment then turned to Harry. "May I?" he asked, gesturing with his wand.
"Yeah... I guess so," Harry agreed.
Several minutes of complex wand waving later, Remus sat back down with a snarl of anger, his blue eyes tinged with yellow, his tired, scarred face drawn. "How did you know?" He demanded, staring at Hermione. Shack got up and moved behind him, placing his hands on Remus' shoulders. firmly massaging them until the tense werewolf sighed and slumped in his seat.
"I didn't," Hermione whispered, "not for sure. It was Mum saying Harry needed to keep an open mind. The thought just popped in – what if his magic was being forced to be less? What if his access to his magic, to learning in general, was blocked? What if the reason he had those sudden intensely powerful outbursts was because only extreme situations allowed him to truly touch his magic?"
The young witch paused, her brilliant mind processing what they were saying, making connections, linking various events, pieces of information, observations.
Harry watched, fascinated. He never got tired of this – of seeing Hermione do her 'thing'. It was a sight to behold.
Dan and Emma watched their daughter, knowing she was at the edge of something important, just not what, their love and pride obvious.
Remus and Kingsley waited silently, trading glances as Hermione chewed her lip in thought. When she finally focused on Remus' face, she had tears in her eyes.
"What if," she whispered, "his ability to defend his mind had been circumvented, preventing him learning occlumency, no matter how hard he tried? What if he was set up for repeated mind-rape with no hope of ever stopping it?"
Remus sighed again and stared at the now crying witch before turning to Harry who was only just registering what his friend had said.
Dan again raised his hand and everyone looked at him. "Ummm...occluwhat?"
"Occlumency, Dan, is the art of mental defense, of shielding one's thoughts and memories so a Legimens can't read them or probe for information. It's also a way of ordering one's mind to facilitate learning, retention of information, and dealing with one's past experiences," Remus explained. "Dumbledore said Harry had to learn it, and as the lessons might have allowed Voldemort to see through Harry into his teacher's mind, Albus said he couldn't risk being that teacher, as he had all the Order stuff in his head. He gave the job to Snape."
"Isn't he the one who hates Harry?" Emma asked. "I'm sure Hermione has told us about his abusive behavior."
"That's him," Harry said bitterly. "The lessons were a joke. I just wish I had a pensive so I could show you what he did, as well as all the stuff with Dumbledore about the prophecy."
"I do," Kingsley said softly. "I'll be right back."
With that, the big Auror strode to the fireplace, tossed in some floo powder and was gone in a swirl of emerald fire.
Only a few minutes later, he stepped out again, a large, highly polished stone bowl in his hands. "Had it checked out of Resources to review some testimony in a case I'm handling," he explained, setting his burden down on top of Sirius' letter. "It's a projecting model so everyone will be able to see the memories without having to enter them."
The next couple of hours were unpleasant. Harry, with some encouragement, shared many of his memories – the Dursleys, Quirrellmort, the basilisk, the Dementors at the lake, the graveyard at Little Hangleton, the events with Barty Crouch Jr, Umbridge and the blood quill, Snape's so-called lessons, both potions and Occlumency, the vision of Nagini attacking Arthur Weasley, the battle in the Department of Mysteries, Sirius' death, his pursuit of Bellatrix, his possession by Voldemort, and, finally, the scene in Dumbledore's office as he was told the prophesy.
Remus added his memories of the face-off with Pettigrew in the Shrieking Shack, several conversations he'd had with Sirius about Harry, and finally, Dumbledore making him promise to stay away from infant Harry at the Dursley's.
When the memory show was over, the Grangers wordlessly embraced Harry who was shaking violently. All three of them held him, rocked him, Dan rubbed his back while Emma gently ran her fingers through his wild black hair, his head resting on Hermione's shoulder.
Harry slowly calmed in the warmth, with the touches, the unmistakable love cocooning him. It was heaven to give up the endless appearance of strength, to just let someone else take the burden, even for only a brief while. He reveled in the trust and support, relaxing into their embrace until he was almost boneless and purring, not unlike Crookshanks with Hermione.
It was bliss – but it couldn't last.
Finally, he pulled away and they let him go, all three studying him carefully.
"You certainly seem to be getting the hang of hugging," Hermione commented.
"Finally!" A smiling Remus chipped in.
Harry mock-glared at his uncle then grabbed him in a bear hug, that squeezed a loud "Oof!" out of the startled werewolf. "I'm just making up for lost time," Harry said cheekily.
Shacklebolt studied the slender teen in front of him and shook his head. "You've seen as much, if not more, than any Senior Auror," he said, "and I for one, am amazed by you. Killing that thing with a bloody sword? At twelve? Driving off more than a hundred Dementors? Shit! I just about wet myself with one!"
He got up and began walking around the group of chairs, his expression forbidding. He stopped behind Dan, directly opposite Harry. "That ritual in the graveyard was some of the darkest necromancy I've ever seen, heard of or read about. He Who Must Not Be Named is now little more than a homunculus, and they, in all their forms, have been declared Anathema by every wizarding government in the I.W.C. To have, or make, one is an immediate death sentence, no ifs, buts or maybes. The spells, rituals and ingredients are beyond awful. Whatever was in that cauldron, it wasn't water, even if it looked like it. How many innocents died to make it, I hate to think."
Everyone watched in silence as the big man paced about some more, clearly gathering his thoughts. He dropped to his haunches in front of Harry so they were eye to eye. 'I've been an Auror for over twenty years, first in South Africa, then here when I moved to Britain with my sister. I've seen the most terrible, frightening things in Africa, things Wizards here can't begin to imagine. I've also seen many different kinds of evil here that have often left me sickened. What you've been through, from such a young age, should have destroyed you, Harry, yet it hasn't. I will never again make the mistake of thinking you a child. I will never again withhold aid or information from you due to your physical age. You are a warrior, an adult, and I pledge myself to follow and support you."
As he spoke, a brilliant spark of golden light shot from the center of his chest to strike Harry right over the heart, jolting him.
Harry was gobsmacked. He stared into Shack's dark face, his intense black eyes, and knew he was deadly serious. A rustle of fabric drew his attention to Remus, who knelt beside his lover, his thin, handsome face set and determined, his blue eyes blazing.
"Shack's right Harry. You are, without a doubt, a man. You may still have some emotional growing to do, but as far as life experiences go, you're clearly an adult. I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of you, how proud your parents and Sirius would be. I too pledge myself to follow you, to support you in anyway I can."
A second pulse of gold light shot from werewolf to teen, making both of them jump.
To one side, the Grangers were communing silently with each other as only close family can do. As Remus finished his speech, they rose in a group and all knelt to Shack's left, Hermione in front. "We totally agree with them," she said, her warm brown eyes full of the intelligence and strength that defined her. Harry stared at her face, the familiar curves, her untamed hair, the loveliness that was his friend – his sister of choice.
"I also pledge myself to you, Harry. You are my brother in all the ways that matter. I love you and trust you. I will never willingly leave you. I will do everything I can to help you defeat Voldemort...and survive," she said fiercely, the now familiar golden spark jumping from her to Harry.
"We're not magical," Dan added, "but Emma and I consider you as much our child as Hermione. And for what it's worth, we too pledge ourselves to supporting you. Whatever role we can play in this upcoming war, we will, willingly. We want you to live son, and be happy. To achieve that, Voldemort clearly has to go."
"Absolutely!" Emma said forcefully. "We can never replace James and Lily, but like Dan said, you are a son to us, and parents fight for their children. No way are you going into this without us!"
As the words left her lips, two sparks leaped from the Grangers to Harry, slightly smaller and less bright, but nevertheless there.
"Did you see that?" Hermione squeaked, her eyes wide as Remus and Shack grinned at her.
"Well, I certainly felt it!" Harry grouched, rubbing his chest, a smile lighting his emerald eyes.
Emma was as amazed as he daughter. "What was that? How did Dan and I do that? What does it mean?"
Harry poked Hermione in the ribs. "I think I see where you get you get the ability to ask a string of questions without needing to breathe," he said, and the young witch huffed at him, a matching smile on her face.
"That was a magically binding pledge," Remus explained, clapping Dan on the back, "but as Muggles, I have no idea how the two of you did it. As to what it means..."
"It is meaning yous are all liege men of Harry Potter sir," Dobby's squeaky voice cut in. "And yous is all now bound by magic to help Harry Potter sir defeat the Evil One."
Everyone spun around to see Dobby and Winky standing together just inside the library door, holding hands and looking unusually determined.
"What do you mean by liege men, Dobby?" Dan asked, before anyone else could.
"Dobby is saying yous have all taken oath to Harry Potter sir as Lord Potter, Patriarch of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter," the Elf explained, his huge eyes almost popping from his head. "Harry Potter sir is turning sixteen today, and that was the age of being grown, not seventeen, and that is why the oath has power."
"Sirs and Misses have bound yourselves," Winky added, her squeaky voice higher pitched than usual. "Winky and Dobby is feeling the magic, we is, even in the attic."
"Liege men, like in the Middle Ages, with knights and kings and lords and stuff?" Harry asked, suddenly horrified by the thought his family, the people he loved and was determined to keep safe, were now magically bound to throw themselves at Voldemort to protect him instead.
"Yes Harry Potter sir," Dobby agreed. "They is now serving House Potter and must be using their skills to help you win."
"But... but... NO!"
Harry leaped out of his chair, ashen faced. "No! No, I won't let you! I won't have you all die for me. I can't! I WON'T!" The last was screamed and a wave of raw magical energy poured out of him, literally knocking everyone off their feet, blasting out the library windows and trashing all the furniture within a ten-foot range of the distraught teen.
With amazing agility, Winky caught the flying Pensieve, while Dobby flung out his hands towards his beloved master...and clicked his fingers.
Immediately Harry found himself floating in mid-air encased in a blue bubble of magic, his own out of control magic washing back on him from the barrier, very painfully.
"You is needing to control your power Harry Potter sir,' Dobby squeaked, 'or you is going to hurt yourself."
"Please Harry," Remus yelled, "the house's protection can only hide so much. If you don't calm down, the Ministry will record the outburst and it could negate the Fidelius!'
Harry snarled, shouted and even tried to stomp, but the bubble didn't move and every bit of uncontrolled magic he released simply slammed back into him, getting progressively more painful.
Meanwhile, the elves helped everyone up, Remus and Shack healing the numerous scrapes, bruises and cuts that had been sustained.
With multiple Repairo's, Shack put the windows back while Dobby repaired the furniture. Winky put the precious Pensieve, all the memories still swirling inside, onto the once again whole table, then, like a tiny whirling dervish, removed any sign of the previous devastation.
When all was returned to normal, even Sirius' letter and Harry's precious photo album, everyone stopped to look up at the bubble, to see Harry curled up in a fetal ball, silent and unmoving. Dobby clicked his fingers again and the bubble vanished, Harry floating gently down to the floor,
Remus got to him first, dropping onto the carpet and gathering his unresisting form into his lap.
"What did Dobby do?" Emma asked, sotto voce to Shack, Dan and Hermione hovering nearby.
"It's an Elf spell, normally used to teach young children to control their magical outbursts," Shack explained. "It's a way of helping kids to develop self-discipline and to feel their magic. It's used mostly among Pureblood families."
"Like the Malfoys?" Hermione asked, and the Auror nodded.
"Exactly. They and other Pures use Elves almost exclusively to raise their children, as nannies and teachers. If the children misbehave, the parents have the Elves punish them, even beat them. It's one of the reasons many adult witches and wizards treat Elves so badly."
"Because of horrible childhood memories," Hermione gasped, incensed. "That's awful!"
Shack nodded and sighed. "Honey, its been that way for generations."
Hermione was all set for a full-on rant when Dan grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face Remus. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "Harry!" The Grangers moved as one to the seated werewolf to find him rocking a silently weeping Harry.
"Harry, none of us are going to do anything foolish," they heard Remus say. "We all want to help you. We know you have to be the one to actually end Voldemort, but we can help. We can teach you, research things, help with planning, fight beside you. Someone has to deal with the Death Eaters while you punch Voldemort's ticket. You can't do everything yourself!"
Harry said something inaudible to all but the werewolf, who jerked back in surprise. "What? You think you'll be a murderer? Harry! What a load of troll dung! Yes, you will have to kill Voldemort. Yes, you might well kill others of his followers, but so will we all. A murderer kills for pleasure, for selfish personal gain, for power, to cause, grief, pain and suffering. A murderer enjoys killing. You won't. Are all soldiers murderers? Are Shack and I? Yes Harry, we've both killed - in the first war, and Shack later in the line of duty. So did your parents, Sirius and Neville's parents too. So has Arthur Weasley. Are we all murderers?"
Harry violently shook his head.
"Has this been eating away at you, sweetie?" Emma asked softly, crouching down beside Remus.
Harry, his eyes full of pain and self-loathing looked at her and nodded. "That...and more of you dying for me, like Mum and Dad did, and Sirius, and poor bloody Cedric! I couldn't stand it, couldn't bear it, if any of you died!"
Emma sighed, stroking his hair. "None of us will do anything too stupid. I can't promise you I won't die, I might have a heart attack or something. We're all going to die one day, but none of us want it to be soon."
"The sad fact is people die during war, son," Dan cut in, "and this seems to certainly be a war that's coming. Would we sacrifice ourselves for you if needed? Yes, so you could destroy that monster. The cold bitter fact is we are dispensable – you aren't."
"We don't want to die Harry," Hermione said, "plus by pledging ourselves to you we need to live to be able to help you, so none of us are going to throw our lives away. You need to accept that."
Harry looked at her, at her parents, at Remus and Shack – and his heart trembled. How could he possibly bear it if any of them died because of him? How could he go on without them?
The same way you went on as an infant, a little voice whispered in his heart, as you did after Cedric and Sirius. Because you must.
Why must I? He cried silently. Why me? Why is it always me?
Why ever not you? The voice asked reasonably. Who else would you trust to do this properly? Who else would you trust to do everything, absolutely everything to protect those you love?
It was if a brilliant light went on in the depths of his soul. Who indeed? Who else would willingly go to the lengths he would to save both those he loved and other innocents, even total strangers?
Who. other than the young man who was the totality of all the experiences he'd had to date, the things that had shaped him, molded him, into the person he was?
Who else but Harry Potter could do what was needed?
No one, because no one else had lived his life, because no one else had experienced all that he had.
In that moment, Harry accepted his fate, he accepted the prophecy, the burden, the responsibility. He accepted the reason for his birth, and knew that it wasn't the whole of his life – only one stage. There was hope of a time after Voldemort, a time where he would be free. He would live and fight for his right to have that time – no matter what.
For a single shining instant it was as if Time, the Universe itself, held it's breath. Then there was a 'click', a subtle shift in everything, as if his decision had somehow moved the entirety of creation, just a fraction, onto a new path with a new set of potentialities.
It was immense, intense and gut-wrenching. Harry felt it in every fiber of his being and somehow knew it was right. That it had been necessary – and overdue.
Hermione shivered, looking around nervously, all the others equally uncomfortable. "What just happened?" She asked. "Something happened...I know it did."
"Harry Potter sir is accepting his task," Dobby said from behind them. "He is becoming what he must be. We is lucky, we is, to be sharing this."
"You're right Dobby," Harry agreed, straightening up to lean against his uncle's chest. "I do accept what I have to do." He looked at all his loved ones, drawing strength from their support. "I need to do what Sirius said in his letter," he said with determination. "Dobby, Winky, please get tea ready for twenty people. Remus, please firecall Bill, and please get him, Charlie and the twins here. Shack, can you go get Tonks, her parents, Madam Bones and Mad-Eye if you can? Remus, once you've done the Weasleys, please contact Madam Longbottom, Neville, the Lovegoods and Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, and invite them here. Grangers, please get this room set up so everyone coming can see those memories. And Hermione, please copy Sirius' letter to be handed out. I need a shower and change of clothes."
With a hand up from Shack, Harry and Remus got up off the floor, the others following. Harry looked around at his Liege men. "As soon as we've completed the meeting, we're going directly to Gringott's to speak to Hackblade, just as Sirius said to. I want to go through the blood adoption today, on my birthday. I will not allow the Black fortune to go to the Malfoys and Voldemort."
Remus rested his hand on Harry's shoulder for a moment, studying his face, the new fire of determination in his eyes. "It's not much of a sixteenth birthday," he said.
Harry shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We can always have a party later, perhaps tonight after Mrs Weasley, Ron and Ginny arrive."
Remus nodded. "I agree," then he glanced at the others. "Right everyone, you heard him! Chop, chop!"
Everyone scattered. Shack disappeared through the floo so Remus could use it for the firecalls, the elves popped off to the kitchen while Hermione rallied her parents.
Harry, a warmth of conviction in his heart, a sense of lightness he hadn't felt since Sirius had died, a true sense of purpose and direction focusing his mind, raced off upstairs to change.
-I- - -
In the parlor of a featureless house on the fringe of a small, insignificant English village, a short, balding man with a silver hand groveled on the floor at the foot of a throne-like chair.
On the chair sat a nightmarish creature, skeletally thin, hairless, with slick, white flesh, glowing red slit-pupiled eyes, and extremely long, bony fingers that clutched the the arms of the throne. It? He? Wore black robes, glints of gold embroidery at the neck and hem, and numerous bejeweled rings adorning his emaciated hands.
He stared down at the pitiful slave before him and slowly smiled, a sight that made the groveling man whimper with terror. "Why have you not obeyed me, Wormtail?" He asked, his voice a deep, sibilant hiss. "Why do you not know where Potter's Mudblood whore and her parents are? Are you...defying me, Wormtail?"
"N...no... Master! N...never! Forgive me, I b...beg you! Their business is shut, their house abandoned, even the furnishings are gone. No one has seen them for weeks. Th... they must have g... gone into hiding, Master! Nothing is being said about them at Hog...Hogwarts, nothing is b...being said anywhere!"
Wormtail threw himself flat on the floor, his twitching fingers grasping the hem of the black robes before him, sweat beading his pasty, hagged face.
"It appears you have been thorough, yet still you do not have the information I require," the voice of his master declared, and he very nearly lost control of his bladder as a wand tip pressed into the back of his skull.
"Should I punish you, Wormtail? Or should Lord Voldemort be merc...What was that?"
Wormtail dared to glance up at his master, to see him sitting bolt-upright, an expression of mingled shock, confusion and even a touch of fear on his snake-like face. "M...Master?"
"Didn't you feel that, you fool?" Voldemort demanded with a snarl, his crimson eyes boring into the watery blue orbs of his servant.
"Feel wh...what, Master?"
"It was like everything stopped, for just a fraction of a moment, and then resettled, but not quite in the same place," Voldemort mused. "Something or someone, somewhere, of immense power just declared themselves. I must discover which, for they must serve me. Oh, and Wormtail? Crucio!"
-I- - -
In the Headmaster's office of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a phoenix was dozing on a perch, while Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump blah blah blah, sat at his desk, tending to the neverending pile of paperwork. On the walls, the painted images of his predecessors chatted among themselves, while up on it's shelf, the Sorting Hat hummed the song it was creating for the approaching start of the new school year. Numerous little silver devices, dotted here and there about the office, either sat silently, or spun, tinkled and chimed.
Sunlight poured in through the open windows, along with the sweet-scented air of summer. All was well...
Until one of the silent silver devices coughed into life, squirted out a huge cloud of purple smoke then melted into a pool of slag.
At the same moment, Fawkes gave a raucous squawk and nearly fell of his perch, and had to flap his wings frantically to maintain his balance and dignity, before he vanished in a burst of flame.
Albus Dumbledore felt his entire world stop, then shift subtly, all in the blink of an eye. It was a most disconcerting sensation.
He was startled by the phoenix's abrupt departure, but downright shaken by the self-destruction of the soul scanner he had linked to Harry Potter.
It seemed that his weapon, his carefully cultivated dupe, had just woken up...
-}- - -
A/N: So there! Did your world shift too? Is everything not as it seems? Could there be a change in Destiny? All these questions will be answered soon, and even sooner if you review.
And speaking of reviews: some people in the past have told us they feel Harry is too much of a wimp. If you feel this way at this point, please do not be discouraged, Harry is going to grow a back bone shortly.