AN: Hail all, it's been nearly a month since the last chapter and I apologise I would blame the lack of internet for three weeks but it's an awful excuse and I know it. Thank you very, very much for the ludicrous numbers of reviews I got last chapter (~82!) and special thanks to SerpentKing for pointing out naming conventions for necrourgy. Soo many good reviews, I can't mention them all.
You may/may not have noticed I now have a beta in the lovely form of Ceridwen Kalamack who has graciously gone back over the previous chapters and made them easier on the eyes (or mind, never quite sure which bad grammar aggravates). This is a thanks to her :D
Warnings: Some not-quite-smut and long chapter of long (16k words).
10. Paper Cuts
3rd September, Great Hall
The raucous on the other side of the great hall's oaken doors hushed as Harry stumbled through them. It seemed that nearly everyone was looking at him, down at the latest edition of the Prophet, to Dumbledore and then back to him again. The old man himself was looking... old. Or hungover. Harry wasn't quite sure which was more disturbing.
Rubbing his eyes with one hand, his other cast a ward behind his back; had he known he was going to be dealing with another of the paper's messes he would have gone to bed instead of working on that poison. "Okay, what have I supposedly done this time?" He asked with an irritated sigh. Hermione smiled at him from the table, and empty space between her and Neville beckoned to him. "Become a Dark Lord, taken over the school, unleashed a plague of deadly Flibberwots upon the world?" Luna giggled as the four tables burst out in hushed whispers and people blushed and looked away. Huh. Where was the standard denunciation, suspicious looks, glares and general 'let's hate evil Potter' attitude?
"Harry, my boy. We need to talk." Dumbledore said sternly as the crowd quietened. "Someone has been spreading lies about the two of us. Now, if we go up to my office after the feast I'm sure..."
"No." Harry stated absently. "One; I don't trust you. Two; It's Lord Black. Three..." He contemplated for a second. "Three: The professors I trust to stop you from ignoring everything I say and putting charms on me have lessons after this." He gazed at the food on the head table. "So no, I will not be going up to your office. Anything you can say to me, you can say in front of everyone else here."
"It's true then..." Someone muttered from the Ravenclaw table. "Dumbledore really did all those things?"
"Possibly," Harry sighed, "I haven't read the damn thing, but it is the Prophet so I'd be surprised if it was entirely accurate... Merlin knows they've never been before."
Dumbledore stood, demanding everyone's attention. "Enough, I'm sure this is all just false information put out by Voldemort to discredit me." He was praying (though to what, he wasn't sure) that for once in his life Harry would do the Right Thing without him there to guide his hand.
Then some blasted little Ravenclaw girl handed him a copy of the paper. Why, oh why, did the school still have a house that took the written word as gospel? He really did not want to deal with this now, Merlin knows that Gellert would have suggested invoking a sympathetic rite of destruction or some other arcane and completely useless solution to this problem. The very thought was amusing: destroying all the papers? Bah, it would just paint him in a worse light.
Wait... Was that shock on the young Potter's face? That couldn't be, could it? The Weasley's would never have talked; he was... well, reasonably certain of that and no one else had been there other than those in the room. Perhaps Granger? Too timid, same with Longbottom. Harry captured the hall's attention as he started chuckling.
"Wonders will never cease, the Sunday Prophet has printed an accurate article for a change. Though that might be because it wasn't written by Skeeter, she wouldn't use a pseudonym." He carried on reading, folding the paper over. "It misses the bit were Dumbeldore is still considered by the goblins to owe me ten thousand galleons..." He muttered, pretending to be oblivious of the reactions he was causing throughout the room.
"Then you weren't responsible for this?" Albus asked him politely as he sat down in his throne at the head table.
"I had no idea this was going to happen." The lad answered, the Dumbledore Gift finding no lie in his statement or what followed. "And I didn't do this, as much as I'd have liked too. Maybe you should look to the Weasley's or Malfoy? They were there as well, this world doesn't revolve around my actions, even if some people would like to think otherwise." He shot a glare at Snape but the Potion's Master was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice - his own copy of the paper on it's way to the Dark Lord.
Dumbledore sighed, turned and headed to his office for a day of damage control. Harry had gone and upset the applecart again... If it wasn't for that prophecy... Well, no point in crying over spilt tears. He unfolded his own copy of the paper and arranged notes, preparing argument and counter argument to fight his own way in the press, his office and the Wizengamot. If Tom wanted a war of prestige as well as his little insurgency... Dumbledore smiled as he started to read.
3 knuts The Sunday Prophet 3rd September 1996
Dark Lord Dumbledore?
An exposure of the 'Leader of the Light's latest crimes. By Sue de Nym.
We all remember the universal pardon granted to Dumbledore a couple of months ago, after it was revealed that You-Know-Who had returned to the living but none of us sought to ask what crimes he used this pardon for. Well, this intrepid reporter did. You see the Ministry may not be the smartest, nor the most effective of institutions, but it adores paperwork and, should you request the criminal record of Albus I'm-A-Light-Lord,-Honest Dumbeldore you will find the results to be... disturbing. I am publishing this today as the legal institutions for clearing or sealing the record cannot be pursued until late afternoon tomorrow.
What follows is a selection from the full list and can be verified by asking for a copy of the record from ministerial clerks:
-Kidnapping of the Heir of An Ancient and Most Noble House
-Theft from an Ancient and Most Noble House
-Attempted Line Theft
-False Sealing of Wills
-Falsely Claiming Guardianship
-Theft of Artefacts, Knowledge and Lore from an Ancient and Most Noble House
-Accessory to Child Abuse, Molestation & Bullying
This is the real man we entrust our children to at Hogwarts, the man who has presided over the greatest decline in education standards ever recorded. An alchemist who has not once considered teaching that fabled art to others, a disturbed old man who has claimed a pardon not for speaking out against the ministry or acting against You-Know-Who but solely to cover up his abuse of the last members of House Black and Potter.
If you don't believe me, ask the goblins.
Unfortunately the Boy-Who-Lived, our saviour and the new Lord Black was not available for comment. Unsurprising considering that one of Dumbledore's crimes involves the interference with the mail of a Lord. Yes, fellow wizards and witches, we finally have the reason why our letters to our saviour were never graced with a reply. Why our gifts were not greeted with so much as a thank you. Why our daughters that go to school with Him have never heard so much as a comment on the marriage contracts. Dumbledore has ensured that he never received them. In fact, judging by tales of his first year, he never even knew of our world until he arrived at the gates of Hogwarts.
It makes me wonder how we can expect the Lord Potter-Black to hold his estates and seats on the Wizengamot without the training in politics and estate management others will have. Or whether Dumbledore intends for the Lord Potter-Black to live at all. All we have heard is rumours but a couple of students who wished to remain anonymous have confirmed several interesting facts about Harry's life:
1. For the first year of Hogwarts he wore clothes befitting of a beggar, often flinching when people came into physical contact with him. A sign of systematic abuse.
2. Over his first five years at Hogwarts he has faced the following in mortal combat: A troll (first year), Slytherin's Basilisk (second year), dementors (placed by the ministry to 'protect' him but nearly devoured his soul on three occasions that we know about), a dragon, acromantula, blast ended screwt, a sphinx and several other creatures in the Tri-Wizard tournament, Inner Circle Death Eaters (on several occasions).
3. He claims to have encountered and defeated He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named four times in those five years.
As nearest as we can tell, these claims are all true. Even the last, which nobody who witnessed him in the ministry earlier this year will doubt.
How did we not realise that what we thought was an arrogant spoiled child who had grown up ignoring us with a vast fortune at his back was actually an abused child with no notion of who he is or what he represents. Thinking back on how, we, at this very paper, have treated him it would not surprise me to learn he had left the magical world for good now he has completed his OWLs (with record scores, I might add). I used to scorn those who unfavourably compared him to a Muggleborn but now it seems that he might as well have been one.
This is not the only time the great wizarding public have been victims of Dumbledore's obsessive need for information control. It is an established fact that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is, in fact, Thomas Marvello Riddle. An Heir of Slytherin, yes, as his mother was a Gaunt, the last known Slytherin line but his father was, as far as we can tell from birth certificates and the school records of the 1940's, a muggle.
Yes. Just like Dumbledore and Harry Potter, You-Know-Who is in fact a half-blood (at best – his mother Mereope Gaunt never attended a magical school on record with the ministry). An unpleasant reality for those who follow him in the name of magical superiority based on purity of blood.
All of this though, seems to merely scratch the surface of the atrocities the self-proclaimed Lord of Light has performed against our society and what other secrets and lies he has manipulated for 'The Greater Good'.
Suffice to say, after pointing out the flaws of the two most powerful wizards of this generation, I am unwilling to put my real name in print. Or even which paper I work for.
Until next time,
The-One-Who-Will-Not-Be-Named (For Their Own Good)
Crimes & Fines Column
The internal audit of Gringotts accounts appears to be continuing with no signs of slowing down or stopping. The original 'anomaly' with Hogwarts accounts, whilst probably linked to the Headmaster's crimes against the goblin nation (see front page) has resulted in an ongoing and at some points violent audit of every account connected to the institution. The list of movers and shakers who have been named as criminals this week, along with their crimes and fines is longer than last weeks:
Murloc Escott (Bribery, Fraud: 1,000 Galleon Fine)
Cornelius Fudge (Bribery, Corruption, Fraud: 5,000 Galleon Fine)
As explained last week, the ministry is still trying to negotiate with the goblins for the seized money and we do not foresee criminal charges being pressed against these upstanding members of our society in the immediate future.
OoooOoooO
The Library, Harry's Domain
They were the last to enter their personal library at the end of dinner, people sat with piles of books and notepaper, thoroughly enjoying the marvels they were finding within those pages. Hermione left to do her own thing as he walked quietly towards Daphne, making her jump as he hugged her from behind.
"What was that for?" She asked, pouting at him as she twisted round in her chair. "You know I don't like people sneaking up on me."
"That was for the article." Harry said in her ear. "I have no idea how you got them to print it, and I probably don't want to, but that was really risky. We don't have the power to take on Dumbledore, Riddle and everyone else at the same time, or even one at a time."
"But..." She stopped as he tightened the hug.
"No buts, Daphne, work on setting us up with more allies inside and out of here, sort out who in Slytherin we can trust, but remember the school's motto 'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'. Dumbledore could very easily have picked up on my misdirection out there. He can tell when we're lying." Daphne's eyebrows crept up in surprise. "It's his family gift."
"Damn." She muttered, hands reaching for a couple of sheets and her pen.
Harry sighed as he reached to stop her, holding her hands tenderly. "Daphne, we have until the end of the year before we need to worry about sorting all of this out, there is no need to make a bunch of plans right now. Why don't you go out and enjoy yourself, learn something new? Relax a little." He held her closer, burrowing his nose into her hair. "We won't have the time to later, Hermione's going to draft study schedules tomorrow."
"I... guess." She said eventually. "But I can't stop. Not with 'Stori and Tracey stuck down there. Malfoy's nearly the only thing keeping them in check anymore. He's a bastard, yes, but he has some intelligence. I just... want to get them and us out of there. Soon."
Harry frowned, staring off into thin air as he weighed his options and choices. "As long as they can keep our secrets, we'll be fine." He rubbed his forehead. "I made the girl's dorms larger than the boys for a good reason but I can't afford to add more rooms and bathrooms, not unless we can tap more power from somewhere." He looked wryly at his spymaster. "We also need Blaise to work out the House changing charm as soon as possible."
The tension left Daphne's body, relaxing into his. They made a good fit before Harry tensed up beside her. "Thank you." She murmured, enjoying herself a little.
Harry gave her another quick squeeze and stepped back, fidgeting slightly. "Erm, all you had to do was ask. I'm just going to go and tell Padma that her sister has the same offer... If she's willing to learn Occlumency and keep her mouth shut." He looked down at the floor for a little bit, Daphne smirked as he tried to subtly adjust his trousers. "We always have each other."
"Thanks Harry." She yelled after him as he strode off.
"Thank me after you've talked to me later, you might want to hex me after that." He shot back and she turned back to her notes and half-formed plans, crossing through most of them. Even though she loved 'Stori she should never have risked them to produce an article that demonised Riddle and Dumbledore and promoted Harry. It practically gave the game away and they were just a bunch of students.
Then again... Oh hell. Now that she wasn't so uneasy she was almost vibrating from the sense of awe and wonder that her coven sisters were embracing. Daphne figured that plans could wait, she'd see what sort of things she could find instead. This library did have entire section on mind the arts...
OoooOoooO
Peeves picked his jaw off the floor and reattached it to his mouth. He was in the presence of a gleeful, sadistic, master of the art! The bludger slammed back into Goyle, ricocheted into Crabbe and back towards him. Peeves flexed his will and the bat swung. Malfoy got a bludger to the arse, sending him flying straight into Goyle, looking like a clingy Parkinson who'd had her rear smacked. The poltergeist snickered.
"That has to be ten points!" Peeves cried gleefully, expecting a camera flash. The wasn't one. His hairy little, definitely-not-a-house-elf, friend wasn't there. His stomach sunk slowly through his waist.
"PEEVES!" Snape bellowed behind him. Where there was Snape, there was the Baron. And he had a sword. Deciding that discretion was indeed the better part of valour, he blew the teacher a raspberry and fled through the floor to their pre-arranged meeting point.
"Sorry I is not warning you about Dungeon Bat, but I was having to get into elf tunnels." Dobby said with a sad smile as his conspirator-in-arms floated through the wall.
"Not a problem, not a problem at all..." The ghost grinned maniacally. "So... who do you think is next? Hufflepuff? Gryffindor perhaps? Maybe we can go for the old man himself!" Peeves flew round in circles his eyes glinting like malicious gems. "So many ideas, so little time..."
"You remember our agreement, don't you?" The House Elf asked suspiciously.
Peeves waved him off. "Of course, of course. We do have the rest of the school to prank, you know. It's a dire shame we can't make it into the dungeons. Oh the revelry that would ensue. Now, I was thinking..." Both of their eyes sparkled in the torch light as identical grins split across their faces.
OoooOoooO
"Severus, why do three of our youngest Initiates look like they have been in a fist-fight with a bunch of mudbloods?" Lord Voldemort demanded of his favourite minion.
"The ghost Peeves, my Lord, he somehow managed to retrieve bludgers from the Quidditch pitch and set them on them. I claimed that I would treat them in my quarters to give them an alibi for your summons." Severus tried desperately to keep the nervousness out of his voice as he struggled to keep his Occlumency walls focused and upright.
The Dark Lord's eyes narrowed and his voice was harsh as he spoke. "I see, and you have cast the ward I gave you over the Slytherin dorms?"
Severes nodded. "I attempted to, my Lord. I am unfamiliar with the spell and principles involved though, so I cannot be certain if it is acting as it is supposed to." The Dark Lord nodded.
"I have faith in you Severus, who else among my followers can cast a Patronus? The one piece of Spirit magic and Necrourgy that Dumbledore permits in his school." The Dark Lord sighed. "It requires a certain level of connection to your magical essence, much like the true Dark Arts do. That is the reason we must recruit the young, so that they can reach their full power with their Majority." He paused and frowned, the subject drawing too close to the matter at hand. "But I digress. Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy." The Dark Lord repeated, turning his attention to the prostate purebloods beneath him. How great the founder's blood must have been to put them beneath him, as dilute as it ran in his veins. A bastard, disowned line of Hufflepuff's ran in Dumbledore, which was what made him such a threat. Potter, heir of an old family of wanderers bred thin with muggles, was simply deluding himself by believing he was a valid player in their game.
"Yes, my Lord?" The quivering brat brought Voldemort's attention back to him.
"How goes your progress in acquiring the mudblood whore?" He asked sharply, Nagini tasting the rich scent of the boys fear.
"We believe we can get her out of the castle using Snape's floo, but separating her from her friends is proving to be difficult. She hasn't been seen anywhere without Potter by her side." Draco all but spat out the last few words. There it was again, the idea that Potter was anything other than a pawn that favoured him, Lord Voldemort. He snorted at the idiocy of the idea as the brat continued. "I believe that, should we delay our plan until the day before the mudblood's majority we could... pretend that the modifications you will make to her are a result of that; then the Light side won't question them or our sudden 'change' of heart."
"My, my..." The Dark Lord said softly as he stood from his throne in Malfoy Manor, "It appears you have had quite the plan, Draco. Being enamoured with the whore seems to have brought out the best in you." The boy spluttered and protested but he ignored him. "It almost excuses your failure to inform me that Potter and Dumbledore are at each others throats!" He snarled, throwing the paper in front of the boys face. "You were at that trial, heard what was going to happen and you leave me to find out from a paper!" Voldemort started pacing. "Whoever planted this article covered their tracks far too well. No one in the Prophet has any memory of writing it or casting the powerful confundus that caused them to print it. Need I tell you how much of a risk this is to us? We cannot afford an unknown opponent right now."
"I... I'm sorry my Lord, I... I didn't realise..." The teen blabbered as his anger roared to the surface, slashing at his control. It was the peril of being a warlock, to feelmore and faster than any other mortal man. Like the peril of the necrourge and shaman was to disconnect from reality, and the peril of the wizard was to over think everything and anything until they sat on a tower and did nothing.
"You failed me Draco. You know what I do to people who fail me." The boy blustered some more, but Voldemort could not have cared less. "Crucio." It was sweet, sweet ecstasy. Each jab of pain the scum suffered was a loving tingle of pleasure across his body that scratched that lovely dark itch he had.
Voldemort was an addict and he lovedit. It made him stronger than everyone else, because they were addicted to something and most of them had no idea what it was they obsessed over so much.
Take Dumbledore, for instance. He was constantly hoarding information, knowledge and vital spells. The old fool had yet to realise that just as knowledge was the main source of his power, it was also his vice. A vice that he too shared. He knew precisely who had written the article in that paper – the one faction who had power and knowledge enough to pursue this agenda but couldn't actively work against him.
The Department of Mysteries.
What, he wondered, were his old colleagues getting up to this time?
OoooOoooO
Hannah was sitting at the end of one of the tables, making notes from a book Harry couldn't look at directly. Her mousy blond hair was sprinkled with tufts, though her uniform seemed as pristine as ever. Pulling a chair out from the table beside her, he sat down. She had bags under her eyes, and her skin held a palid, waifish look to it.
"Sleeping okay?" She snapped out of her studies, shook her head, blinked and looked at him.
"As well as to be expected." She said with a weak smile. "Susan's still has the occasional nightmare, so I try and share them with her, to make it easier."
"Good, she's always welcome to stay up here if living behind wards makes her feel better." Harry smiled back at her. "But it doesn't explain why you haven't been eating much."
"How did you..." She blushed. "I guess I look bad then?"
"Just a little thin." Harry said with a chuckle, and Hannah peaked through her fringe towards him. "You need to take better care of yourself you know. The addiction's not bothering you any more?" She shook her head.
"It's really faint now. I still get emotional at times but it's like there's a buffer there now. Besides, as long as everyone else is near, I'm fine." She shrugged.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "We thought the same about the Dark Arts and look what happened then. I don't believe having a Necromancer is worth you suffering whatever casting these spells might do to you."
"You don't have to worry about me Harry." Hannah replied weakly. "I'll tell you if it gets too much, or if I want to stop - at the moment it's fine. Worry about Padma, she's been getting it really hard from a lot of people."
"I know, I've already talked to her and she's going to be staying in here for the foreseeable future. I wish it wasn't necessary but... we just don't have any alternatives right now. If Daphne and Blaise living here wouldn't paint a giant target on their backs I'd order them to sleep up here as well. This castle isn't the safest place in the world for any of us." Hannah's hand reached out to touch his. It was nice gesture and he smiled back at her, holding her slightly cold palm against his own.
"We'll survive, we always do." She said softly.
"Yeah, I know. Enough morbidity, how is the necromancy going?" Hannah snorted and he grinned.
"That was bad Harry, really bad. Besides, it's not necromancy, technically. In these tomes, necromancy is the art of summoning the dead to tell you about the past or glimpses of the future." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about it Harry." She said quickly. "I could call them for a minute or two, maybe. But the dead want to stay dead. They're in a better place." She shivered. "And I will never try and bring them back all the way; Ghouls, wraiths... souls trapped beyond their time, they're not... them any more, if you see what I mean. I don't know if it's really them to start with."
"Really, then what about ghosts?" He asked and she looked away, she hadn't seen the Friar since last time but being observed was troubling.
"Ghosts never really left, but even then they're not really here either." She started sketching a diagram, a blob and a vaguely humanoid shape. "Look, this is the soul. It's the part of you that can directly channel magic, your essence. Kind of. Because life itself also generates magic, or something. I have no idea how emotions fit into this, but they must do somewhere. Possibly relating to planes or the places magical creatures get their abilities from... or something." Harry blinked.
"So what you're trying to say is that our souls are what make us. Us, for want of a better word, and they act as the central foci for magic of all forms."
"Yes, but they don't hold things like memories. Or... feelings, really. The House ghosts ask the same questions again and again. Discuss the same problems with Peeves again, and again never really caring that they've done it before. It's why in necrourgy, what most non-magicals would call necromancy now, the vessel or body you anchor the spirit or energy to is so important. If it can't store a memory, the spirit can't either. Destroy the anchor and the spirit drifts on, forgetting why it's here in the first place. Ghosts get around that by using ectoplasm powered by magic they suck from around them."
"So Riddle has made soul anchors..." Hannah shrugged.
"Not necessarily," She looked at Harry with a wry smile. "Practising emotional or spiritual magic... changes you a little every time you cast it. Use enough death magic and your body might not notice it's stopped working." She shrugged. "At least, I think that's how it might work. I have no idea what's going to happen to you though."
"Me?" Harry asked with a bit of surprise.
"Patroni are necromantic invocations of protection, calling upon the soul of one of the deceased... I don't know how happiness or love fits into it, or why they drive off dementors because that bit of the formula goes right over my head but the origin of the spell is clear." She looked down. "With no practice with soul magic, in third year, when your core and soul hadn't yet matured you created a patronus powerful enough to drive off a hundred dementors. If you die, I really doubt there's going to be anything normal about it, assuming you stay dead in the first place."
"Ah." They both fell silent for a moment before Harry shook himself out of it. "Well, there are worse things that could happen."
"I guess." Hannah continued, staring back down at her diagram. "Right, erm, yes, soul. This is the body, while it is linked to the soul there's an exchange of power from one to the other. Just as the soul links emotions and provides... substance to the body, the body provides memories, intellect and other powers. You can't permanently alter one without permanently altering the other as well." Their eyes met across the table.
"So the ritual you want me to do." Harry said slowly. "It's going to cause physical changes as well?"
"I hadn't thought of it like that, but I guess it might?" Hannah looked a little sheepish. "I can't see it being more than the veela ones."
"Great." Harry muttered to himself. "As if reintroducing magical races of snake weren't enough, I'll be making new species of magical human as well." His eyes swept across the other girls speculatively, focusing for a moment on Daphne and Hermione as they went over a page of notes. Why did it have to be those two first? It was callous of him, he knew that but he couldn't help wishing one of the others would be first. Hermione looked up, caught his stare and blushed to her roots.
"Hey." Hannah nudged him in the side. "Did you want me to explain the rest of this, or not." Harry looked back down at her notes and gestured for her to continue.
Hermione looked down at the floor as Daphne nudged her in the ribs. "He was looking at us, he knows..."
"Well, if you hadn't decided to be very specific, we'd have finished by now." Daphne muttered as she counted the number of pages. "Look, it's going to be easier for me to just rewrite this from scratch."
"It's not my fault this sort of thing isn't easy to research." Hermione whined without looking up. "You can't just walk into a library and ask for this kind of thing."
Daphne rolled her eyes. "But you can walk down Knockturn Alley for it, it's not like it's dark magic just... not socially acceptable. Are you really sure you want to do this?" Daphne asked with a sly look down the table. "If you can't even talk to him about it, how do you plan on coping if he wants you to wear a collar, or other people find out about it and start looking down on you because of it?"
"I..." Hermione blushed, shuffling in her seat. "I... don't know." She fingered her neck nervously. "I'll just... cope with it. I guess." Her hand clenched empty air aside as she lowered her hand. "All I know is that I need him and he needs me."
"So if I said that the price for my help and advice was to put another name down next to Harry's would you agree with me?" Daphne asked hesitantly.
Hermione looked away. "Depends on who it was. There aren't many people that I trust this much." She bit the bottom of her lip nervously. "It's not just about trust either, I care about him. I need to help him and... and..." Hermione jumped as Daphne's hand encircled her wrist. Their eyes met as a spark of apprehension was exchanged for a splattering of nervous fear.
"Do you care about me that much?" The blond asked. Hermione's heart did little somersault as her mind worked out what she was asking. The bond dragged Daphne's emotions with it before happiness trickled down and settled their nerves. "I guess that answers that question."
"But why?" Hermione asked softly. "I thought... I mean I'm not a lesbian. I don't fantasize about being with girls or well, I didn't." She blushed again as Daphne chuckled.
"I read a psychology book about what non-magicals call Pavlovian conditioning. The more doing something makes you feel good you more likely you are to repeat it and me touching you does that because of the coven bond. Besides, both me and Harry are dominants and we're going to want a submissive in bed at some point. Now, do we have a deal?" Daphne asked, leaning in to the other girls personal space.
"Yes." Hermione said, cheeks aflame as she remembered the train. Daphne raised an eyebrow and waited. "Mistress." Hermione finished quietly.
There was a crack and they jumped apart. "Winky is remindings you that you hasn't eaten yet and that the lesson be in an hour." She put a plate down in front of both of them as a bit of elf magic pushed the papers away. "Books will still be here when you get back. So eat."
House elves were very good at looking after their Master and his family, even if they had to glare at them to do it. Winky had to have been a very naughty elf for former-master-Crouch to get rid of her. She wasn't going to mess this up by letting new Master's living possessions starve themselves either. Not when she'd failed so badly last time with former-master's son.
OoooOoooO
The Great Hall
The sixth years slowly filtered down to the Great Hall, taking the presented seating near the front as the other large tables had seemingly vanished for this lecture. Ron Weasley stopped in the doorway, how dare they take his table? Even if they'd dropped the loony and the snake, Hufflepuffs and 'Claws should stick to their own blasted tables, no one needed know-it-alls in Gryffindor, look how Hermione turned out until him and Harry had taken pity on the ungrateful bookworm.
"If you take a seat Mr. Weasley we can get this started." Professor McGonagall snapped from behind him. "We're already late due to your tardiness."
"Indeed, Ten points from Gryffindor for delaying the rest of the year unduly." Snape drawled from the front of the hall. "Still not moving Weasley?" The Slytherin students laughed. "Well, maybe I'd better make it-"
"But there's no space left on the table!" He yelled.
"Five points for interrupting a teacher." Snape said with no real haste. "And a further five points for stating the obvious, were you not here yesterday when Potter decided to illuminate us on the fallacy of seating arrangements? You would have thought he'd have better things to do, but then you all thought Lockhart was impressive at one point."
McGonagall's hand squeezed his shoulder and pushed him towards the open space on the Ravenclaw table. Mumbling darkly under his breath he chose a seat next to some girl who was staring at the Gryffindor table, petite hands formed into pale fists. He followed her gaze. They had the nerve to sit there, doing homework and... and sniggering! It's like Potter and his friends didn't know that they were destroying centuries of important tradition! "Arrogant twat." He spat.
"I could not agree more." The Ravenclaw at his side said softly as Professor McGonagall went to stand with the other heads of Houses and Madam Pomfrey at the front of the hall.
"Welcome back to what will be the most important year of your magical education." She announced without preamble, the hall fell silent. "I will be perfectly clear with you, this is only time in your magical education where we bring an entire year group together for a single class." She stared over the various houses, checking that their attention was fixed firmly on her. "For we have brought you all together for a short lecture on your coming of age in the magical world."
"Now, whilst I am certain that some of you," she nodded in the direction of Ravenclaw and Slytherin, "will already be aware of this, some of you will not. In the wizarding world coming of age is not something that can be taken lightly, for on that date your magic will finally mature into it's final form, unlocking latent abilities, bloodline powers and increasing your reservoir of mystical energy. Without this maturity you will find some of NEWT level work exceedingly challenging." Someone started sniggering. "Something like to share with the rest of us, Mister Malfoy?"
"Not really Professor." The blond Slytherin replied with a fiendish grin, glancing over to the Gryffindor table. "I was Just remembering the birthday of one our favorite celebrities and it's significance for this year." He drawled. Harry just sighed.
"Speak for yourself, I am more than certain that everyone here will succeed if they put in the required amount of work." Minerva stated firmly. "Back to the subject at hand, every student, on the day of their Majority, is excused from all classes, spellcasting, detentions and potion brewing. Performing or being affected by any magic during this period is exceedingly dangerous and using magic on someone during their Majority is also highly illegal due to the possible of such magic being integrated into the person's essence. I knew one girl in my year who used a simple shaving charm on her seventeenth birthday and has to wear a wig for the rest of her life. Remember that." She glared at the various Gryffindors spread across the tables.
"Now, a word on Bloodline gifts." She paused. "My apologies to the Muggleborn but your blood simply isn't strong enough for this to occur. As for the rest of you, many will find yourselves gaining an additional skill, ability or affinity from your Majority as the blood of your ancestors ignites in your veins. I strongly advise talking to you parents about the abilities you are likely to possess." She paused to let that sink in.
Ron tried to glare at Hermione, the ire in his eyes turning into a confused stare. The long held champion of muggleborn rights was not concerned, frothing at the mouth or complaining about the Professors assumptions. She just sat there, scribbling away at a parchment and ignoring the rest of the world. It was so out of character that Ron nearly turned and ran right then; that lazy smile she had across her face was like Crookshanks had had every time it looked at scabbers. She was like a pawn staring at the end of the board and thinking 'I'm going to be a Queen.' That was just wrong... pawns always got taken before that happened.
"Headmaster Dumbledore has asked me to tell you that his door is always open for anyone who wants to talk about or unsure of abilities they might have gotten from their Majority. He is also willing to act as a certifier for those who you who may find yourselves in possession of a gift neither of you parents have, granting your family the status of Ancient House." The Professor continued idly. Pomona and Filius exchanged a knowing glance.
"You should of course come to your Head of House before disturbing Dumbledore, he is a very busy man." Flitwick announced glad that the Headmaster had been called away by the board to 'discuss' this mornings article.
"Of course." Pomona supported him quickly. Snape also got in on the act.
"I believe that was implied." He drawled. Minerva swallowed nervously.
"Well..." She wet her lips, stared at the opposite wall for a bit and then stared back down at the notes she was carrying. "Moving on..." She started talking about the importance of reaffirming your commitment to Magical Britain and your ties with others. It made very good propaganda, but Hermione had a very interesting rune problem in front of her, Harry to lean into and no real distractions. Life was good and she was home.
OoooOoooO
8th September - Practice Room, Harry's Domain
A miniature twister swirled around Harry, caressing his hair and billowing his long coat as he smirked. Muttering something under his breath. The girls yelped, covering their ears and blinking after a jagged bolt of pale blue lightning etched into their eyesight. Splinters of the training dummy peppered them as they were blown away by Harry's cyclone.
"Some days I get the feeling that magic isn't really designed for this kind of thing." He muttered as he turned to face them. "Sorry, I've been trying to get that spell working all week. I'm not even sure it's a properly crafted spell as even with a mostly intent based casting it's still twelve syllables long."
"It's very impressive though." Hermione tried, sharing a nervous look with Daphne.
"But fundamentally useless, it takes too much energy for what it is and can be blocked by a conjured teddy bear." Harry sighed, running a hand through his hair before wiping some of the sweat from his forehead. "At least the windshield works, so I can teach you that in a week or two. It's impressive enough to give any wizard that doesn't recognise it as a spell second thoughts." He shrugged. "Anyhow, what have I done to drag you two from the library? I didn't think we'd covered anything too radical in the three subjects we're doing now." He smiled to take the sting out of it, conjuring a towel to wipe himself down.
"Have you had time to read the books I gave you yet?" Daphne asked tentatively, Harry's blush was all the answer she needed. "Well, we're here to talk about that."
"Ah." He said, shifting slightly. "Shall we move this somewhere more comfortable? Exit." Letting them go into the lobby first, he tried to get his own response under control. This was it. The first book he'd been given by Daphne had made him nervous; 'A Slave's Companion' was a... guide to Hermione's side of the equation and he thought he could understand what she wanted now, mostly. The level of trust she must have in him had shaken him to the core.
Harry James Potter had lived ten years of his life were trust, love and all sorts of other things didn't exist in the way most 'normal' people acknowledged them. He had trusted yes, in the same way a rat trusts the cat will eat it if it makes a mistake. Hermione trusted him enough to give her life to him. Trusted him to to take care of her, look after her and punish her if she strayed or idled from what they both wanted her to do. It was a chilling amount of responsibility that he wasn't sure he wanted.
A very nervous Harry had reached for the second book. One night of very little sleep and the teenage male inside of him was very, very interested. A little too interested. He hadn't even been able to consider examining the girls magical cores since without some form of rope or restraint involved. This entire relationship would be based on trust, it might be something she took for granted but if he did this... she could never lie to him or hide things from him unless he specifically ordered her not to tell. Harry closed his eyes as he stepped into the cool air of his domain's Lobby and transport hub.
«Master Bedroom» He hissed as Daphne idly traced the fern Neville had put in as a place holder. The training room closed and another opened.
"How many secret rooms do you have here?" Daphne asked as she peered into the newly opened suite, Hermione fidgeting behind her.
"Just four, my private lab, the keystone, the ritual room and this one." Harry turned his emerald eyes on the you women this was all for. She blushed and looked down at the ground, hands held nervously behind her back. "I expected you to ask that question." Hermione gave him a quick shy look through her hair before looking back at Daphne, who raised an eyebrow.
"Okay." Harry ventured as he led them into the as yet unused chamber. As they entered, the illusion of an ordinary room shifted into that of a circular room in which everything but the outside walkway was obscured by a thin silken veil. The inside was a sunken, soft bowl layered with soft silk and sprinkled with blankets, pillows and cushions in varying shades of tan and silver. "Yeah, it's a giant bed." Harry's voice broke the girls out of their stunned silence. "Not pulled out of harem novels or anything...Doors one and two are bathrooms, I'm going to go use one to shower as I stink. Oh, and no shoes on the bed. Winky doesn't clean in here." Walking round them, Harry slipped through one of the three doors at the side: a nice cold shower was exactly what he needed right now.
Both girls looked at each other, but silent communication only went so far. "You can talk you know." Daphne tried hesitantly. Hermione nodded and she sighed, walking towards the young brunette, tenderly tilting her chin up and kissing her softly, her hands reaching forward to pull Hermione's up behind her back.
"Did... did you change your lipstick?" Hermione blurted out as she tried to pull away. A difficult thing to do when your arms are pinned behind your back and another person was holding you off balance. Damn it, skin to skin contact. She needed to be nervous, not tingly. She lipped her lips again, tasting the cherry-flavoured lipstick and hot breath tickled at her throat. The brief touch of Daphne against her skin left her disappointed.
"I told you," Daphne breathed a little huskily. "There is no need to be nervous. I know what I'm doing and Harry wants us."
"But he didn't say anything..." Hermione tried to protest.
"He looked nervous heading into the bathroom. Cold shower." Daphne smirked. "Now, he's going to need us naked with the ritual so... I hope you're wearing something sexy under that?" Hermione bit her lip again. "I figured you would and we've got a nice large bed to lounge in, so get to it." Their breath was getting short and Hermione was beginning to squirm again.
"Erm, you need to let me go first. Mistress." Daphne did so, stepping back and running a hand through her own shimmering tresses. It was one thing to let go to help a friend, it was another to lose control enough to forget that you were pinning your friend against you whilst on the verge of using a stripping charm.
"Right, sorry about that. I'll..." She looked towards where Harry had said the other bathroom was and spotted a third. "You get ready and make yourself comfortable, I'll be back in a sec." Leaving Hermione to cool off behind her she threw some magic over her own feelings and smothered them in calm. The third door opened swiftly to her touch and her breath hitched. It wasn't a bathroom. It was a dungeon.
Lending those books to Harry had been a brilliant idea. This was still the Room of Requirements, and teenage boys had requirements. In fact, so did the girls. Dahpne grinned as she started pulling off her robes, once the three of them had 'talked' this was going to be fun. She just had to grab a few things first...
Harry towelled down his hair, relishing in it's warmth. That had been one fucking freezing bout of water at the end, so cold he'd had to shove power into his Occlumency to stop himself from screaming; locking down his emotions as a very deliberate side effect. Now he'd sorted out his nerves it was a matter of checking himself in the mirror, applying a bit of combing to his hair so it didn't look like a bird had nested in it and out to face the pair of young nubile women.
The door creaked open, showing no one in the corridor but he felt one of his girls on the bed and another in a room behind him, Daphne using the loo or something. Brushing soft silk aside he stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione had made herself a bed of pillows and was squirming delectably in pearly black lace. Reaching down to shift his pants, Harry decided then and there that he wasn't as good an Occlumens as he thought he was. That and he needed some very soft rope, possibly silk since he'd mastered the untying charm, some oil and... err. The massage book. It was nearly a month till he could do more. Very nearly a month...
Hazel eyes met Emerald and he licked his lips. Her eyes slid behind him and widened; so, she'd just noticed Daphne was behind him, had she? The smile on his lips widened as he extended a hand back for her to take.
Daphne eyed the hand warily, silently begging him to turn round. He knew she was there didn't he? So he must have warded that room or something and knew that she'd been a complete idiot with the stuff he'd left lying around. There weren't many charms Harry could have mastered in that time and she'd blundered right into them. Now he was extending a hand for her, waiting for a hand to take or... a leash, or... Daphne could feel the heat all over her as she contemplated her options, Hermione's gaze drawing out every little curve of her body. She did the only thing she could - submitted.
Harry felt the wand being dropped into his palm and froze. Giving someone your wand was nearly sacrilege in wizarding society, to a pureblood it wasn't the tool the first-generation mages treated it as. Daphne was the woman who'd taught him all of this; the only thing more severe would have been if she'd given him her virginity. He spun.
She was looking at the floor, arms behind her back. Acting like a demure princess wearing a few racy scraps of azure cloth that he knew would be the same colour as her eyes. "Daphne?" He asked with concern, this wasn't like her at all. There was a clash of black against her hair. "Oh shit." He swore, "Look at me Daphne." She didn't, but she didn't walk away. So he reached out and tilted her head up with his fingers.
The beginning of tears welled at the corners of glistening eyes as rose tinted cheeks flamed an even deeper red. Stark crimson lips, the lipstick faintly smudged, were pursed around a plain black ball gag that cut across her face and pulled her lovely blonde hair tight across her skin. Harry's latest wet dream had involved her submitting willingly to him but she never would. He focused his intent carefully.
"Denudio." The charm holding the strap in place severed and the ball flung from her mouth. Licking dry lips Daphne plowed into his shoulder, the damp soaking through his shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Harry muttered. "I was practicing the capture charm last night and completely forgot. I never meant to..." He rubbed her back soothingly, spying the handcuffs that locked her hands behind her back and had prevented her from pointing her wand at them or the gag. He cast the charm again, sending them cluttering to the floor. Her arms sneaked around his waist and Hermione hugged her from the other side.
"Why are you crying?" The bookworm asked once the emotional storm calmed down. She'd felt the wave of confusion, fear and relief, but Harry needed to hear her reasons or he might start blaming himself.
"I've never submitted before." Daphne said softly. "I just didn't know what to expect and I didn't really want to."
"You looked scared." Harry said softly, letting her go. "And that scared me."
Looking almost a little lost Daphne took a step back and her hands went to adjust robes she wasn't wearing. "Right, we should get on with what we were going to do, it must be curfew by now." She looked nervously at Harry. Relaxing when he nodded. She wasn't a switch damn it! Just a little unsettled. "It's in my bag. Hermione can explain things." Daphne turned and slunk off to clear her head. Harry's eyes burnt a trail down her back before she ducked under the veil.
"Can I ask a question?" Hermione asked softly, biting her lip.
"Always, you wouldn't be you if you didn't." Harry gently lowered himself to the floor with an exasperated smile, starting to rub the aches from his muscles.
"What happened to Daphne?" She knelt down beside him and started with his other leg. Combined with the scent of her hair- he focused on the question.
"Daphne gave me a couple of books on bondage and domination and I thought that, if you were serious, I should at least know some of the more common spells." Her eyes widened. "One of them is an old quick-dressing charm that doesn't quite work properly; it basically puts things in the right place, tightens them and then sticks them to your skin, which is a problem if your clothes aren't supposed to be skintight. Make that into an enchantment and voila, a pair of handcuffs or a gag that'll put itself tightly on you if you pick it up or knock into it." He shrugged. "Think incarcerousbut with an item of clothing instead of conjured ropes. She was probably planning on using them on you and forgot to check for charms."
Hermione blushed and started working on his feet. "Got it." Daphne said with a smile, ducking under the veil with a smile on her face. "Just so you know Harry, there are no magical enchantments on this, no penalties for breaking any of the clauses. They're essentially guidelines."
"Good." He said firmly. "Anything else would be slavery, this way it's more of a declaration of intent. Shall we look over it?" Daphne passed it in his direction and he started looking through it. It wasn't what he was expecting, short and to the point, laying out what she was expecting from him and what he could expect in return. Warning and safe words were orange and red. Then there was the unnecessary restriction clause: The Master shall not lend nor order his Slave to engage in sexual or personal acts with any other than the following: Daphne Greengrass. If she signed this, he could happily call Hermione his. God help anyone who thought he was willing to let her be with anyone else, because he wouldn't.
As the dominant Harry signed first, handing it and the quill to the nervous young woman behind him. "Are you certain you want to do this, you can always pull out later..." Hermione skimmed through the contract again, years of habit making her double check every condition they'd worked out. The quill sped across the parchment as she signed her name.
Leaving it for Daphne to sign as a witness, Harry wasted no time in dragging the brunette towards him and kissing her thoroughly. Panting, they came up for air. She fit perfectly against his body as she leant into his shoulder, the happiest she'd been for a long time. "What now... master?"
"Now..." Harry growled. "Oh to hell with it, I'll find that charm tomorrow, now turn over." Calling on the room through the sigil on his palm a jar of scented oil materialised in his palm while he used his wand to summon the manual he had.
Blushing to her roots, Hermione couldn't comply fast enough.
"Best present I've ever given to either of them." Daphne whispered to herself as she slunk away through the door. The girls would be in for an awkward but very relaxing evening.
OoooOoooO
9th September, A small house East of Surrey
Amy Williams stared at the her latest job rejection. No one wanted someone who couldn't account for seven years of their life doing apparently nothing, spent two years in college at the age of twenty-one and finished her second University degree at the age of twenty-eight. As it stood, studying magic had turned out to be the worst thing she could have done.
Seven Outstanding NEWTs, a prefect badge in Hufflepuff and not a single guild had considered her as an apprentice. She'd then expressed her disgust at being offered a secretarial position with the Ministry based on an old man's leering instead of the field position she'd deserved and been blacklisted. So it had been back to the real world. Still, she'd applied again to Gringotts and the guilds. Any work at all would be a godsend at the moment.
An owl tapped on the council flat's window. Trembling hands opened the Gringotts stamped parchment and another letter fell out.
'Madame Williams,
We at Gringotts regret to inform you that, due to your blacklisting at the Ministry we are currently unable to employ you in our muggleborn relations department. We have, however, taken the liberty to forward your details on to another interested party. We hope this is agreeable to you.
Nosegrip
Junior Clark'
The feel of parchment between her fingers brought back nostalgic memories as she dropped it for the other letter, written on normal paper with shimmering black ink. She could almost feel the magic radiate off of it as it opened.
'Dear Miss Williams,
My apologies if this letter brings back bad memories about the wizarding world, as many of the first-generation wizards and witches have after being dismissed for lacking proper connections. Our friends in Gringotts have informed us that you can claim both a degree in Mathematics and a degree in Chemistry, this combined with your excellent scores in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Potions has convinced us that they were, to put things bluntly, blind fools for letting such a talent fall by the wayside.
As such I am writing to offer you the post of Lead Researcher on one of a number of projects Althric Artifice is willing to sponsor. They will most likely involve a combination of spellcrafting, potion design and refinement, specific forms of enchanting or alchemy, depending on where your talents lie. We may also need you to teach incoming staff and some of the senior staff on occasion due to your advanced non-magical education.
If you accept this offer we will provide you with a workspace and self-study materials to get you acquainted with the necessary skills we will require along with some of our theories and practices. We would also provide you with a salary of ten galleons a week and cheap accommodation near your place of work. If this does not sound like much, please consider that the exchange rate used by Gringotts is based on the eighteenth century gold standard. We aim to offer an equivalent level of pay in non-magical currency if we can establish ourselves in non-magical fields as well.
Unfortunately, due to the experimental nature of our products and the prejudices of the current government a magical vow of secrecy and loyalty will be required at our first evaluation meeting should you wish to accept this offer. You will be free to decline with no penalties or hard feelings at this point.
Please reply with any questions, refusal or acceptance via Owl to Daphne Greengrass or via the post service to POBox 41123, London Sorting Office, SE24 7BN
Yours Sincerely,
Daphne Greengrass
Vice-President of Althric Artifice.'
"I thought you were through with all that magical nonsense?" Her mother asked with a disdainful sneer at the parchment lying on the floor.
"Not when it offers me a job and a place to stay, I'm not." Amy said, grinning happily up at her mum. "It's not that I don't like staying with you, I'm just a little to old for this. I've been offered a job as lead researcher on a project of my choice."
"They do research in the magical world?" She asked with a bit of shock. "I thought you said they were a 'bunch of backward bigots who kept it in the family and needed a map to find their arse'?"
"I was drunk at the time." Amy tried to state in her defence. "I need to find my wand, and my old textbooks. I do not want to look like an idiot when I start work."
OoooOoooO
3 knuts The Sunday Prophet 10th September 1996
Dumbledore Speaks!
By Alicia Nevergarde
Since last weeks article on the Headmaster of Hogwarts' pardon and his various activities we have been inundated with howlers, denunciations, letters of congratulations and everything in between. Several of you pointed out that one person's view had not been solicited nor sought. This week I managed to correct that, securing an audience with our dear Supreme Mugwump, Albus Dumbledore.
Now my regular readers will know that I am on friendly terms with the Leader of the Light and suspect me of bias. There is no real argument I can use to refute that other than guarantee that the following conversation was taken straight from my quill as we met for working lunch on Friday:
"The first question I have to ask for our readers is, of course, are the allegations raised last week true?" I asked after we had ordered and the server had left the privacy barriers, Dumbledore looked pained at the question and took a few moments before he began his answer.
"Unfortunately, yes." He started with. "I did indeed do most of the things I have been blamed for and I heartily wish they had not been necessary but at the time and to this very day I believe that it was the best course of action for all of us." He paused, staring off into the distance. "You may not know this but Lord Voldemort, as a young boy had no choice but to grow up in a muggle orphanage and I, constrained by law and the peoples morality had little choice but to leave him there. Now though, I wonder if, had I bent the laws a little, rescued him from a place where he was feared and bullied, the last thirty years would never have happened? It was those times, I believe that turned him in to who he is today."
He sighed, frowning at something only he saw. "Now imagine how I felt all those years ago, Harry in the crib before me; his mother dead, his father killed in a most disgusting way. The boy had survived a killing curse and I could feel the potential in him. This was not just another wizard before me, so I could not risk our world having to face another Voldemort or Grindelwald. If he had grown up amongst our society, reading the tales written about himself, he would not be the same loveable boy that those who know him find, so I could not leave him here. Instead I entrusted him to his relatives where he would be cared for and loved, to become an ordinary person. I would not make the same mistakes I had with Riddle with this boy."
"And the guardianship and the money?" I had to ask even if his reasoning was sound.
Dumbledore looked away from me at that, staring despondently at the ground. "I am not proud of what I did in those days, very few of us are. If I had to falsely claim guardianship in order to stop him from becoming a Malfoy, or hounded by the press or the goblins..." He shrugged. "Then it is what I had to do; you'll find that a lot of my supposed crimes are just me acting in my young charge's interests as well as I could without showing overt favouritism. I set up mail wards to ensure he could not be tracked or abducted, or intentionally harmed by a delivery."
I will admit that what I did was not entirely selfless, but then who is. I believed that by searching the vaults I had access too, along with his family history and magics that I might have been able to duplicate whatever miracle rebounded the killing curse on Riddle. Can you imagine that, Alicia? To never fear the killing curse again?" His eyes bore into mine, the passion with which he spoke was almost unnerving.
"It would be wonderful yes, but why didn't you publish or ask others for their assistance?"
"Because what I did was illegal and the books and vaults I needed to access locked up by the goblin's side of the treaty so even the ministry, if they had broken their own laws, could not have helped. Ultimately though, I traced the spell used to the Potter grimoire and there it will stay until either Harry or his descendant sees fit to release it to the public. I was rather disappointed at that, even with how society used to look down on them before the rise of Voldemort, surely one spell from a family book was worth the lives it could save?" He shook his head sadly. "Alas not all members of our society for its betterment."
"Thank you Professor, I think it's clear that this is all a misunderstanding and that you have done nothing wrong, legally or morally. No matter what the goblins say."
He smiled at that as orders arrived. "Thank you, Alicia. It is hard for me to keep track of things here in London from Scotland. I hope your readers acknowledge that I did what I did not out of some misplaced sense of moral authority. I am well aware that what I did was wrong, but because someone had too. In those dark times there wasn't anyone else to shoulder the pain."
OoooOoooO
11th September, Harry's Lab
Having books to work from was making alchemy an actual subject for Harry instead of the botched mess of techniques and observations he accumulated since third year. Take potion making as an example: a quickened silver spoon engraved with a few runes allowed him to extend his magical awareness and power down the shaft of the spoon, letting him make adjustments to the brewing process as it went. That had been in chapter five and he'd previously been limited to slightly altering the ingredients he could touch before they were added.
That said, he couldn't do much because alchemy took a long time and a silver rod... well, that got hot fast. But it was vital for his current project: A potion mixing the last few drops of Basilisk venom he'd recovered from Slytherin's beast along with monkswood, firian venom and some vampire blood.
On it's own, basilisk venom was the worst poison you could think of. It destroyed the container you tried to hide it in, etched through the blade you tried to put it on and could only be held by very, very well made un-enchanted glass vials with minimal impurities. It ate most magic thrown at it, along with any that wasn't a silicate or a calcite. With this concoction he'd be able to put it on an ordinary blade, or in someone's drink.
Alchemy was a glorious thing: One part magical sense, one part potions, one part wandless touch based transfiguration and one part shaping of mystical it you could dissolve charms placed on you, neutralise poisons as you drank them and turn one magical creature into another. Or lead into gold if you felt like it. All you needed was the correct tools, willpower and a lot of magical energy to back it up. And skin contact.
He couldn't save the world with it, he told himself. But as the rat he'd taken from Hedwig's supply convulsed in agony he figured he could use it to solve a couple of problems.
In a cauldron on the other side of the room, a egg shaped stone simmered in a steadily clearing precipitate as static sparked along the pot next to it.
OoooOoooO
12th September, Private Arithmancy Class
"I am an idiot." Hannah announced to the room. "A complete and utter imbecile. No wonder this doesn't tie properly into runes, it's like trying to call Assembly from Java!" She yelled loudly, tearing up an hours worth of work.
"Is that some kind of muggle thing?" Professor Vector asked with a frown as the more... radicalof her charges descended on her muggle stationary. All those pens and parchment that wasn't rough. Scribbles and meaningless diagrams. This new fangled stuff just wasn't as good as a quill in her eyes, they forced students to write in elegant lines and not convoluted squiggles!
"An Arithmancy equivalent for computers." Hannah answered quickly, sketching down theories and jotting out notes before the moment of inspiration left. "The non-magical wand. We design spells, right here, right now." She got out. "Runes are simple, their geometry and alignment have inherent magical properties, like circuits, they are our assembly, the most basic level of code, but we don't use that in spellcrafting." Underlining one of her more obscure theories she stared straight into her professors eyes. "Tell me, Professor, just what does Latin have to do with magic?"
Professor Annalise Vector, Master Spellcrafter, twelfth generation pureblood looked at her group of treasured apprentices with something akin to amazement. "Well, the Romans invented wands..." But that wasn't a particularly good reason. Sounds didn't have arithmantic representations. They had runes tuned to pitch and tone.
"Precisely." Hannah threw her pencil down as her proffesor stared off into the distance. "What if spells are just vocally triggered rune groups and wands are little more than complex, vocally programmable, foci."
"But, but..." Erin stuttered. "Hannah. You're a genius." The professor paled as the girl she'd only let join this group as a personal favour pulled a knife from her ankle, pricked her finger and sketched a rune on the page in her own blood.
Erin dropped it on the floor and stepped back. Everyone recognised one of the more intense fire runes. Sucking her finger the girl stared at it with a manic grin. "If you're right, this should burn." Nothing happened.
She tried again. Still nothing.
"That's not how a wand works, Erin." Hermione tried, ripping a page out of her notebook. "If Hannah is correct, you would need a syllabic rune group attached to a fire rune. "I think what she meant is something like this." She walked over to place the ball of paper in front of the bloody page, bending down to touch the rune written in her coven sister's blood.
The rune caught fire with the small ball of paper, burning both sheets to ash in an instant. Hermione jumped back with a yelp, sucking her singed finger. "That wasn't supposed to happen." She muttered under her breath, eyebrows creased in thought.
"So you can light a fire with a small blood based ritual? I fail to see how that has anything to do with wands." The professor stated with a frown. "I feel I should also point out that it's highly illegal and that we should get back to the task at hand and properly balance these syllable groups..."
Hannah sighed. "But magic is definitely intent based, even if it needs some geometric channel, it has nothing to do with rhyme or chants." She put her pencil down. "So all this hassle is completely pointless. Look, if a wand is what we think it is..." She looked at Hermione, smiled and looked at Erin. They both nodded.
"You think you can make a wand." Harry stated.
"More like a spell-stick. Provided we can get charms to carve the runes perfectly onto our base material, I don't want to think what would happen if that went wrong." Blaise looked a little sheepish but nodded. The three girls shared a very, very evil look.
"If you can manage that, I'll give all of you full marks for the year and share my private research with you." The Professor hesitantly put forward. Because, if this was true, they'd just discovered the art of wandcrafting. A trick that had been kept in very few, very powerful families for centuries.
Hannah reached out with a hand. Harry groaned but dropped a vial of small silver liquid into it anyway. "Give us two weeks." She said as confidently as she could. If this was right... her bone wand tumbled through her hands.
This was big, very big.
She went over to coordinate with the others who were interested in the project and stop Hermione from cursing herself for not coming up with this idea first.
An hour later, Harry's Domain
"Okay, okay... I'll explain already. Just... get everyone gather round, I don't want to explain this twice." She ran a nervous hand through her hair as the bone wand slipped into her palm. "I guess you all want to know where my wand theory thing came from. Harry, Daphne, have either of you used the wands Hermione found for us?"
Harry slammed his head on to the desk. "I'm an idiot." He said, rubbing his forehead. "I tried to use it for some dark arts practise but all I got was smoke. I thought it just wasn't as attuned to me as my original wand, so I haven't used it since. Thinking of the reactions we got though... You think it's a different style of wand?"
Hannah nodded, biting her lower lip. "It would explain the differences in construction and style. They're not the same type or... pattern? As the Ollivander ones. So I don't believe that they're constructed for the same purpose as our standard wands."
"Okay." Harry turned to Hermione. "If that's true, then did the place you got them from sell any strange or different spell books?"
She froze, staring off into the distance for a second. "There was one that some interesting charms and really advanced spells written in it." Hermione she said timidly. "They were way, way above our current level. You need to sketch runes in the air, chant... erm..." She rubbed her forehead as she tried to remember. "There were some references to invocations. I didn't understand half of what it was talking about so I set it aside for later."
"And this didn't seem strange to you?" Daphne asked. "You're normally the one that hounds inconsistencies like that."
"Well it was taken from a combined, charmed and heavily enchanted personal grimoire of a three hundred plus year old doddering wizard who still thought Bagnold was minister and regaled me with tales of Barrow Wights and the last goblin rebellion." Hermione half-snapped at Daphne, rubbing her head with one hand. "I had a lot of stuff to sort out after that trip, okay? Some of it was going to get overlooked."
"He must have been very powerful to have lived that long." Padma stated with a far away look. "The only person who fits would be..." She snorted with disbelief. "You can't have gotten the grimoire of Datherby Bint."
Hermione looked up sharply. "How did you know? He was just a doddering old man who fell over himself to please the first person he seemed to have seen in months."
"Datherby Bint was the 'hero' of the last goblin rebellion, single-handedly slaying entire battalions of their troops. A gentleman adventurer of some renown and world famous battle-mage." Padma looked up towards the heavens. "Oh how far the mighty have fallen." She quoted. "When war lays down its wand and the wielder fades. I can't remember the rest, something about death and uprisings, but it seemed appropriate."
"Great." Harry grimaced, pulling his engraved wand out to stare at. "We have wands of the dead allies of one of the greatest battle-mages. And there I was thinking fate and ominous portents had decided to overlook me this year." He slid the wand back to its holster. "We don't have time to learn a completely new style of casting for a wand we could loose in the middle of a fight and never replace. Maybe after the war is over we can take a look at it but we can't afford it right now."
"Are you sure?" Padma's eyes met his. "Because if Ollivander's wands are pistols, battle wands are artillery pieces."
Harry hesitated, imagining the level of destruction that involved. "Fine. I'll take a look at the bloody grimoire and I'll see if I think it's worth it. But I'm not making any promises. Hermione, you'll have to allow me to access it, there's no way we're going to find a copy charm that would work on it." She nodded sheepishly. "Oh, and don't worry about not mentioning it till now, you did a wonderful job getting everything for us."
Rose tinted her cheeks and she smiled at him, her worries about him being angry at her for missing something put to rest. Now she just had to work out how to tune the sound runes for specific words and syllables.
OoooOoooO
13th September, Flitwick's Office
"...and that is how a Fidelius charm is finalised. You are quite correct that in practise it appears to be more ritual than charm; but since it doesn't actually require components or call on an external source of magic, it is most definitely a charm. Bringing in others to power it could easily dilute or break the trust the charm relies on unless you trusted them as much as you did yourself." Flitwick beamed at his favourite pupil, violet eyes going over the last bit of theory from their two week stint on it.
"Fascinating. The caster has to force the secret inside the keepers head and every time the keeper speaks it, sees it, or hears it a bit of that secret sneaks back into the world." Blaise smiled. "Ever so ingenious, I'm amazed it's not dark looking at this."
The half-goblin snorted. "Trust a Slytherin to make that comparison." Blaise shrugged. "But yes, that is a very apt description of it. Now, I need you to promise me that you will not attempt to cast it before your Majority and most certainly not unsupervised. It can easily kill you if you do it wrong."
"Of course I won't." Blaise lied easily. "I've seen the power requirements involved and the trust you need to have in the keeper..." She trailed off. Dumbledore had trusted Pettigrew... completely trusted, or the charm would have failed. With what she knew of the man, he must have... he must have... trusted the rat to betray Harry's parents? It just didn't make sense. She wasn't going to tell Harry though. Hell no. He'd kill someone and then get caught!
"Is something the matter?" Filius asked quickly.
Blaise looked away nervously. "No it's just..." Quick, think of a distraction... A complete change of topic, err...
"Don't tell me you've gotten yourself caught pranking again, Peeves is taking all the credit for them at the moment." He smiled weakly. "I keep asking Severus to tell me how he managed to keep the pest out of the Slytherin dorms but he flat out refuses to tell me."
"No... it's not that, but... I have been having difficulty with one particular charm." She said slyly. "The House changing charm."
"The house changing charm?" Flitwick frowned. "Can't say I've heard of it, have you tried talking to Minerva, I'm sure she's always wanted to change a house into mansions or something similar."
"That's not what I'm talking about." Blaise said quickly. "I'm talking about the spell you cast on students at the sorting feast. That gives them the school crest and trim. I've checked the charms n the robes but they work off of some external connection to the castle I haven't been able to work out yet."
Filius practically beamed at her. "Why yes! You found those, in all my years of teaching I have never had a student think to use the detection charms on their clothes but I shouldn't be surprised that you picked up on it." He sighed, staring off into the distance, lips twitching upward at the corners. "It's a real shame that you and your study group dropped out of classes this year. It's barely worth teaching sixth year without you, they've gone from an interesting an insightful group to a bunch of sheep who keep waiting for one of you to answer all the questions." Flitwick chuckled at her reaction.
"I didn't think any had realised who we were." Blaise said unhappily, pouting at the floor.
"Well, unlike most of the school, I can see what's in front of my nose. So can Pomona and everyone whose initials don't resemble something a snake would say. Even McGonagall knows and she's so bogged down in work she can barely see the front of her nose. Why, I went to her office yesterday and managed to sit on paperwork instead of transfiguring the chair like I normally do. Don't see what's wrong with it myself." He leant forward with a goblin grin. "Now, when are you going to stop pretending you're not with them and invite them over to the Slytherin table? That'll really put a niffler in their vaults and I have a bet with Pomphrey I want to win."
Blaise's mouth went up and down for a moment. "When we can get away with it... How come nobodies said anything if it's that obvious?"
The professor shrugged. "Because Dumbledore doesn't live in the real world anymore and Slytherin has had few cunning souls in the past few decades. Now, about this charm, I believe it's tied into the spellwork of Hogwarts itself in a similar way that point allocation is tied to teachers and prefects." He paused, letting his student reach her own conclusions. For that was the goblin way and in his mind the only way to teach: Let them draw their own conclusions and then point out their mistakes until they get it right or go away, whichever came first. That way if they came up with a better idea, it was yours all along but he'd never do that. It just happened to make students think.
"So it requires a teacher to cast it..." Blaise frowned. "Or maybe not, anyone in a position of recognised authority can allocate points, and the prefect badges don't have charms on them so it would have to be a position of authority recognised by the school, possibly through another charm?"
"Very well reasoned." Flitwick clapped happily. "In fact any old authority will do, the sorting hat has it's own built in variant that fails on occasion, Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin for example, and it's a recognised part of my duties should they fulfill the requirements. An ingenious bit of charmwork, probably put together by Helga herself."
Blaise nodded along with his explanation, filling in her own reasoning around ley-lines and keystones. "It must be a very interesting spell."
"Of course it is." Flitwick said with glee. "You won't be able to cast it as you're not a teacher but we can pull apart the structure. If I remember correctly, it's absolutely fascinating how it interacts with multiple magical sources and enchantments at once."
"If you could that would be brilliant, thank you." Blaise said with a demented grin. Harry wouldn't be classed as a teacher but they could find some way around that. Right?
"Don't thank me young lady, I haven't had the opportunity to do something this interesting in a decade or two." The half-goblin seemed invigorated by the prospect. "A true problem to sink my teeth into. Why, I won't even bother looking for my notes!"
OoooOoooO
14th September, Headmaster's Office
Dumbledore cradled his head in his hands. 'For neither shall live whilst the other survives.' It had driven him, excused him and taunted him. From the very beginning he and he alone would take the burden for the crimes that had to be committed in the name of the greater good. If the Potters had not died that night, if whatever rite had Lily hadn't required the time James bought. The eyes, it was always the eyes he saw. Dark charred pits. How angry did you have to make a Dark Lord to make him kill you in such a horrid manner? 'those who have thrice defied him'. The Potters, no matter how much he had distrusted Charlus, had certainly done that.
Yet Harry survived still. He didn't 'live' like everyone else. Couldn't have lived, in fact, it was the most damming reason to suspect Riddle's continued existence all those years. Not once had he raised his hand to stop the police or social services from taking him away from that home. He would have warded the new one all the same. But he hadn't raised his hand to help either.
How the boy must rage, how empty his own justifications felt. To keep someone away from their friends over summer, just to stop whatever fate-cursed entropy that followed Harry for at least a month every year. It was shallow, daring and... regretful.
Fawkes chirped at him.
"I know, I know." The old wizard said sadly, placing the glass back on the desk. "No more tonight. I was just... thinking. Why can't it be like it was, one good duel to decide everything? Why must we fight in the shadows, with words, and paper! Next we'll be using poisons like characters in some muggle play. 'My kingdom for a horse' and other falsities." He stood on unsteady legs, staring over charts of raids, the haphazard pins strewn across the map. Where was the pattern, where was the plan? Did Riddle truly not have one? Was this just an opening gambit to put him off-balance?
"What am I missing?" He demanded of the world. "I defeated the wielder of the elder wand in a duel, I've discovered more uses for dragon blood, I've... I've made the world a better place. A safer place." Even that rung false. The rotating defence teachers that he'd let happen. Never proving or disproving the curse, the books he kept for his personal collection... It all added up. He swallowed as his head spun.
"I'm the greatest wizard in two centuries for Merlin's sake and fate passes me by. There is no curse, geas or potion I couldn't sense or undo. My head is clear." A chuckle escaped from pursed lips. "I can feel people lie, make them trust me. One step short of a god in the public's eye. I'm one of the last alchemists, maybe even thelast. What am I missing?" Fawkes didn't say anything.
Harry was telling the truth when he said he knew nothing of the article. Draco didn't remember telling anyone about it. Who was the third player in this war? Was there one? Either of his attempts at verification could be foiled by an Obliviation. He needed to know how that got out, he was certain he had contained that little crisis. Why, oh why, couldn't Harry and Tom just eliminate themselves and be done with it. It was what they were fated to do and he dared not intervene too much. Why had he not died with the diary.
The ring, of course it had to be the ring. Two Horcruxes to split a soul into three, magically stable and powerful. He could go out right now, claim the Resurrection stone for himself. All three Hallows within easy grasp. It was tempting...
All he'd have to do was reach out and use the power contained within his tomes, call upon the rage, the hate, the unjustness of having to wake up at seven in the morning to get berated by governers and parents in meeting after meeting as the prospect of sleep dangled like a carrot in front of him. The irritation at being unable to do business with the goblins or any organisation that required their cheques or meeting rooms. The despair at lacking the time and reliable followers to chase up every last lead.
It would be ever so easy.
"You're drunk Albus." He told himself. "What would Abe say if he saw you now?" The Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizadry snorted, shook his head and headed for his rooms. The answer was never flattering.
OoooOoooO
16th September, Harry's Lab
It was done. The rat mewled pitifully as it twitched and squirmed before falling silent. Harry checked his watch: five seconds had passed. One of Hedwigs snacks was dead, and his scalpel wasn't showing any noticeable signs of decay. Reaching down he unclipped the poisoner's sheath from his leg, the slender piece of leather and mental was enchanted to spray the blade with a liquid as it was drawn, ensuring the first strike was an eventual kill.
Unfortunately most poisons took at least a few minutes to start working, a few minutes being long enough for whoever he'd had to stab to finish him off. Hence why the potion currently on the blade was non-fatal. In the same way the cruciatus curse was didn't kill you. The thin amber liquid with a consistency of blood dripped slowly into the vial Harry held with a pair of disposable gloves. The non-magical world was a brilliant place.
Rinsing the sheath out carefully Harry prepared to break one of his most important rules: never carry a poison you can't cure.
Not that he particularly cared in this case, his current target had tried to make his first five years of Hogwarts hell for no apparent reason as far as he could tell. Severus Snape. The man who had belittled him, scorned him and laughed at him when he was down and now, with the Dark Lord acting openly, a threat to him and his girls. If it was just him, Harry might have let him live for a little longer, the man was an incompetent, failing to acknowledge Harry's ability to not let his potion explode with all the crap the Slytherin's threw in it. But he gave the other Death Munchers in his House immunity to punishment and could run to Dumbledore for forgiveness of the oh so repentant purebloods.
But he knew they could not more fail in obeying their master than a familiar could.
He shook the vial of brown sludge slowly from side to side. However satisfying it would be to stick a knife in the 'Professor's' side it would be very bloody obvious, so he'd settle for a poisoning. The Marauder's Map showed the dungeons were clear and Snape wasn't in his personal rooms off his office.
OoooOoooO
Harry breathed in, then out from under the cloak. His magic rippled along it's surface, dampening the feelings he was getting from the Dungeons. The area was covered in barriers, alarms and other irritating spells he couldn't identify, block or risk messing with. Harry suddenly had the unnerving feeling that he wasn't being paranoid enough. That was just the dungeons.
The entrance to Snape's rooms was covered by a portrait. Harry frowned. The likelihood of it requiring a password was high. Even higher was the likelihood that the portrait would immediately report to Snape if he tried to gain access, which he couldn't risk. Even if he followed behind Snape as he entered his rooms, he'd have to do so without disturbing the rest of the man's wards.
If the Gremlin's had a flaw, it was that lacked a warder and Harry could tell just by the slick feeling he got that these were far beyond him.
He'd have to try another way.
OoooOoooO
Sunday 17th September, Great Hall
It was a Sunday and like all Sunday's (for the last two weeks) the paper was late again and people were waiting eagerly for their next dose of entertainment. Speculation was rampant. Harry had heard rumours of everything from Dumbledore being in love with Grindlewald to him being the result of a sordid love affair between his mother, Severus, Sirius or even Riddle himself depending on who was talking. He didn't care. Breakfast was coming.
Harry watched out the corner of his eye as food appeared on the head table. Snape's goblet glowed an incandescent green as swirling purple vapours spun their way towards the ceiling. Reflexes from years of teaching potions triggered on instinct and the cup along with it's contents disappeared from existence. Damn.
Severus eyed his food warily, checking it with a variety of detection charms as the rest of the castle stared at the show. Let them. "If you'll excuse me professors, I believe I'll be eating in my rooms today."
"Surely you're not going to let some childish prank chase you from Great Hall Severus?" Dumbledore asked with that blasted twinkling in his eye. "I know I charmed the goblets to react to poisons, but they'd also flag up pranks." That wasn't the problem, the problem was that it would take assistance from a House Elf to get the potion in the drink before it appeared, and a muggle poison might not show up on his scans. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore. Or the mudblood who hit the Dark Lord with a dark curse.
"After that lovely display I'm no longer feeling particularly hungry. I do not take well to pranks, Headmaster, perhaps you should inform the students of what just happened." He bit back before he could insult the old coot and let him stand and tap his glass. With the Weasley twins gone, there was only one child in the school foolish and arrogant enough to attempt to prank him, ifit was benign as the Headmaster suspected.
"Thank you, thank you. There is no need to be alarmed, with the confirmed rebirth of Lord Voldemort," Cue the hushed flinch. Impudent dunderheads. "I felt it prudent to charm the silverware of the school to detect poisons, what you saw just now was someone attempting an ill advised prank on the potions professor." He shook his head. "If the perpetrator would please come forward I can assure them a lenient punishment." No one moved.
Dumbledore said something else that Snape didn't hear as Harry's eyes glanced over him and he struck. His probe slammed headfirst into a wall, splintering his mind in twain, leaving agony in it's wake. The brat smirked at him and for some unknown reason he felt fear. Harry Potter had become an Occlumens, something the Dark Lord had warned him must never happen. He barely acknowledged the morning swarm of owls as he stormed to his quarters, clutching his arm as an excuse to leave the old fools side. The paper would probably give him an excuse.
3 knuts The Sunday Prophet 17th September 1996
The Lies and Tragedy of one Albus Dumbledore
By Rita Skeetor
Isn't in lovely when bias creeps it's way kicking and screaming into our lovely paper dear readers? Two weeks ago even editor was surprised at the article adorning these respected pages. Yes, it's quite true, we didn't write or intend to print that article but I will happily endorse Sue, whoever she may be. But I think we're all agreed that writing style is more than a little... dry.
Then, my dear lovely readers we had last weeks fiasco. It might as well have read: Dumbledore Seeks Confessionary for Absolution, or How to Break the Law and Steal Teach Children. My personal favourite being Dumbledore, Gellert's First Crush, Manipulating the World for his Own Gain.
That's right my readers. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Internationally Redundant Council, son of a sworn muggle hater with a squib for a sister and a goat-lover for a brother was Gellert Grindelwald's boyfriend.
I thank whichever of my anonymous readers presented me with the tip that led me to Bathilda Bagshot's door. I like to believe it was Sue, letting a more experienced and authoritative writer convey the truth to the masses, but there is no way to tell. Whoever you are, I give you and the public of wizarding Britain's thanks. We are in your debt.
For this is the Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore.
…
Reporter Murdered!
Lord Wellstead, Editor
It was brought to my attention that one of our favourite reporters, Miss Alicia Nevergarde, friend of Albus Dumbledore and valued reporter for the Daily Prophet died a painful death at her home. Aurors have identified the curse used but the suspect remains at large. She will be missed.
AN: Long chapter is loooooong. Please leave a review (those lovely lovely things I crave like a small cat craves full cream) especially the nice long ones which point out gaping holes or speculate on what the plot gremlin at the back of my mind is up to. They are wonderful wonderful things.
I do know that I've got Hermione & Daphne's birthdays round the wrong way but I decided to change them back when this was planned to consist of smut and you should see the reason next chapter.
Till next time (which will hopefully not take a month like this one).