A.N. Alright peeps, you may have noticed some changes with the story. I agreed with the reviewers that said the pace was too slow, so I'm editing out some parts and combining other chapters. I'm just as frustrated as you guys that Logan and Harry haven't met yet, but the story just doesn't seem to want to play out that way! I've tried and tried, but something always seems to come up! It's annoying me, so I'm gonna see if I can't shorten the time. Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewed and I'm sorry if you're impatient, but bear with me; I'm new at this. Enjoy!
Chapter 9
Previously; "On the contrary Lord Diggory. You will find that I am very much alive."
The smooth, cultured voice came from the shadows nearest to the Minister's chair. Soft as the words were, the tenor voice rang clearly throughout the square room. As the Wizengamot members stared fixedly at the shadowed space, a sparse number of those closest to it were able to make out a dark silhouette cloaked in black. Lord Diggory, who had been stunned momentarily as he was clearly not expecting opposition, stuttered confusedly several times before adopting a haughty expression. "You there, I demand that you show yourself!" He commanded pompously, nose in the air.
There was slight movement in the corner, and one of the official secretaries tasked with recording the meeting managed to see the form lifting what appeared to be their hand. With a quick flick, the shadows concealing the area melted away, seemingly receding back into the walls and leaving the space open for observation. Clear light or no, the assembly was still unable to discern much about the figure. Tall and thin, the strong build revealed that they were a male, shrouded in a black cloak edged in emerald green with sinuous silver snakes weaving through the stitching. His face was masked in the shadows thrown over it by the cowl of his cloak; all they could perceive was the lower half.
Pale, smooth skin. Sharp and defined jaw line. Perfectly formed pale pink lips. High, aristocratic cheekbones. The subject of their scrutiny stood stock still for a few seconds, letting the curious witches and wizards about him observe. Then, lips shifting into a secretive smirk, he turned and said, "Hello again Amelia." Ignoring the handful of the assembly that blanched at the familiar address, he continued, "I am glad to see you well. Please forgive my lateness, I am afraid I had a little business to catch up on that ran later than I had expected." He bowed slightly from the waist at Amelia's nod, and then turned to Lord Diggory. "Well Lord Diggory, here I am. What do you wish of me?" He asked, spreading his arms wide, black glove covered palms up.
Regaining his pompous air, Amos sneered down at the sable cloaked figure with barely veiled disdain. "This is a classified meeting, you have no business here! I'm afraid I'm going to have to call the guards to remove you." He gestured to the two aurors stationed beside the doorway, ignoring the fact that –as he was not a department head, a senior auror, or the chief Warlock– he had no authority to do so. The two law wizards looked at each other questioningly for a moment, shrugged, and began walking over.
Amelia shot the stranger a sharp glance, to which he shook his head slightly in the smallest of movements. The two aurors stepped up beside Lord Diggory and asked, "Yes Lord Diggory?"
"Escort this man out!" Diggory ordered with a vicious smirk. When the lawmen failed to move he turned to them and commanded furiously, "Did you not hear me? I order you to arrest this man!"
"Lord Diggory sir…" One began hesitantly, looking frantically to his partner for help. "Someone with Madam Bones' authority has to consent for us to act within the assembly room and-"
But Amos cut him off, spit flying as he shrieked, "Follow my orders you dimwit! I'm acting on my authority and I-" He himself was cut off by a gloved hand being placed over his mouth.
You see, unbeknownst to Lord Diggory, during his tirade the very man he was ordering arrested walked calmly over to the barrier before Amos' Wizengamot seat, vaulted easily over, and came to a stop in front of the irate Lord. Now, the stranger in question nonchalantly covered the man's screeching mouth, leaning his shadowed face in close to the other man without even sparing a glance towards the two tensed aurors behind him.
"Lord Diggory, really. Let's cease making such a spectacle, shall we?" The cloaked man asked Lord Diggory conversationally. When the Pureblood Lord began protesting after the hand was removed, the figure casually raised a finger and reprimanded, "Come now Lord Diggory, I assure you there is no need to have me arrested as I do have permission to attend this meeting. We wouldn't want to waste these poor men's time, would we?" The cowl covered head turned and he waved cheekily towards the lawmen that stood cautiously watching. "Hello boys, I'm just finishing up this lovely chat with milord here. I'm sure you can go back to your posts now, isn't that right Amelia?" He directed towards the amused Minister. At her nod, the pair of aurors shrugged and ambled back over to their places guarding the door.
Turning back to the still spluttering Lord Diggory, the stranger continued calmly. "Now, I'm sure that we can come to some arrangement Lord Diggory; as I said, I am allowed to be here."
"By whose authority?" Amos spat, glaring up at the hooded man.
"Mine." Amelia's voice rang out calm and clear. The stern woman stood, leaning forward with her hands braced on the wooden barrier in front of her seat. "Wizards of the Wizengamot, this young man is the acquaintance I referred to earlier. I did mention that he would be attending, did I not?"
Several members nodded as the black swathed man sauntered back to the middle of the square room, leaning against a banister. From her place beside Amelia, Augusta Longbottom asked genially, "Does this guest have a name? I must confess to being intrigued as to your identity young man."
Said guest grinned roguishly, bowing deeply from the waist with one hand over his heart and the other swept to the side in the gallant fashion that had been popular when Augusta was a young girl. "Lux Noir, at your service Madame." Still prostrated he looked up and said, "I would kiss your hand Madame, as is proper, but I admit that you are too far out of reach to one such as I."
To everyone's surprise, the severe older woman actually blushed at his attentions. Many of the elder witches nodded approvingly at his conduct, and one even commented, "It is not every day that one has the pleasure to meet a young one that holds the proper respect and is as polite as yourself. Not many bother to learn the old ways."
"Thank you Madame." Lux responded, bowing once again. "I regret to say that I did not have the privilege of a mother to teach me manners, but I like to think I managed rather well despite that." What little they could see of his face dropped slightly at the mention of his mother, but Lux quickly perked back up, turning to Amelia. "Now, I believe we had been discussing the problem as to finding a founder's heir, correct?"
Amelia provided him with a stately nod and was about to reply when Lord Selwyn cut in, picking up from where Diggory had left off. "Yes Mr.- Noir is it? My compatriot Lord Diggory had just been explaining that there are no heirs currently alive when we were, ah, interrupted." He stressed not so subtly, smirking disdainfully down at Lux.
"Ah, but milord, as I said; I am very much living." Lux responded, locking his and leaning against a wall with an innocent expression. "Or at least, I was the last I checked." He shrugged, looking down at his hands as if to make sure they were, in fact flesh and blood. Examining them for a minute, then, apparently satisfied, he nodded emphatically and looked questioningly back at Selwyn.
The Lord spluttered indignantly before scowling, attempting to be threatening. "You would do well not to mock me, boy." He spat, but an elderly wizard beside him waved a hand and interrupted his tirade, saying,
"Do you mean to say that you are a founder's heir?" The older man's creaky voice was incredulous, as were many of the faces around him.
Lux grinned and, with a quick twist of his wrist, he held a thin wand in his hand, twirling it about his fingers. With a casual flick, a serpent of smoke curled from the tip, twining into the air to form Salazar's serpent crest. Sweeping an elegant bow, he straightened and threw off his cloak in a sharp move, swirling it high into the air. As it fell billowing in waves down to the white marble-paved floor, he intoned; "Indeed Lord Brown. Lux Anguis Noir… Heir of Slytherin."
The members of the Wizengamot froze in shock, both at his words and his appearance. Short, spiked silver hair tipped with blue fell slightly into deep slate-grey eyes lined with thick black kohl above high cheekbones. One curved ear peaked out, pierced with a single dangling silver cross. His straight nose led to bowed lips covering slightly fanged teeth and a firm chin. Smooth, pale skin contrasted sharply against a plain black choker and polished close-fitting leather decorated with straps and silver clasps. Tight black pants hung with delicate chains flared slightly at the bottoms above sturdy black combat boots fastened with a trio of silver buckles.
Hands stuffed into his pockets, Lux watched with a wide –and frankly, rather manic– grin and half-lidded eyes as the stately wizards and witches about him observed his rather unorthodox appearance, waiting for his words to fully register in their shock filled minds. Shifting from foot to foot and fiddling with the gothic cross hung from his choker, he began to grow impatient as everyone (besides Amelia) just sat there gawking. Used to staring as he was, it still managed to get on his nerves after a while. Turning to Amelia and scratching the back of his head sheepishly, he chuckled nervously and sweat-dropped. "Erm, Amelia? I think I broke them…"
"You really should have worn more conventional clothes H- Lux." Amelia chided good naturedly, barely twitching at the slip. "You know how people usually react to your style of attire." She mock frowned at him, then gave a wry grin as she shook her head.
Lux just pouted, whining, "Aw, but where's the fun in that? It's much more entertaining this way!" He crossed his arms; enjoying the cool feel of leather on his skin and feeling the fabric creak slightly as he moved. "Besides, do you really think the reason they're gaping is my clothing? Really Amelia, it's the Slytherin aspect I'm sure."
Finally, one of the Wizengamot recovered, clearing his throat to gain the bantering pair's attentions. "Indeed Mr. Noir, I'm afraid we were taken rather by surprise, though I'm sure your, ah, eclectic preferences did have some effect." He coughed awkwardly, but grinned affably down at the slightly blushing Lux.
"Tch, yeah, I get that a lot." Lux responded, shrugging casually. "Still, it's never had quite this effe-"
"Pah." Selwyn barked, cutting him off. "A brat with no respect for propriety, claiming to be Slytherin's heir. Just an attention seeking boy."
Lux fixed him with hard grey eyes, glare frigid as ice. "I am no boy Lord Selwyn." He stated calmly, eyes lit with an inner flame of power. "Young as I may be, I have never been a child. I experienced the war with Voldemort just as much as any other, perhaps more. And I do not claim to be Salazar's heir." He paused for a moment, seeing a triumphant smirk stretching across Selwyn's face. "I am Salazar's heir." Shoving a slender hand into his pocket, Lux rifled around a little bit before withdrawing. With a quick flick of his wrist he smoothly tossed whatever it was towards Lord Selwyn, the small object glinting in the lantern light as it fell neatly into the Pureblood Lord's lap.
Sneering at the expectant Lux, Selwyn plucked the sparkling item from his robe covered knees. Holding it up to the flickering lamps, he revealed it to be a silver band with an emerald sphere mounted upon it. Smirking, he scoffed, "A pretty bauble. Was this supposed to mean something to me?"
"That it was Lord Selwyn." Lux responded politely, expectant expression never fading. "If you would be so kind as to look at the face of the ring-?" He trailed off suggestively, gesturing with his hand.
"Hmph." The haughty man scoffed, glancing once disdainfully at the surface of the brilliant emerald. "Just as I thought, merely a-" He cut himself off, scrabbling frantically as he almost dropped the delicate band in his surprise. Once it was firmly in his grasp once again, he stared down at the intricate snake subtly etched into the gem; the tell tale crest of Slytherin. He sputtered momentarily before adopting a self-important expression. "It is not particularly advanced magic to duplicate jewelry, nor does it exactly flatter one's character." He suggested blatantly.
Titus Fellinger, a prominent jeweler and head of the craftsman's guild there in England spoke up, raising a hand. "If you don't mind Mr. Noir, if I may take a look?" Lux nodded and, with a casual wave of a gloved hand, the ring flew from one Lord to the other. Merely raising an eyebrow at the blasé use of wandless magic, Lord Fellinger pulled a monocle from an inner pocket of his robe, raising the silver band molded into a twining snake up to the light. Turning it this way and that, he waved his wand several times around the emerald, looking more and more satisfied after each pass. Finally, with a tap of his wand in the middle of the serpent engraved neatly into the center, the slender ivory wand in the craftsman's hand lit up with a white light not unlike the Lumos spell.
Nodding once with a pleased expression, Fellinger raised his head, tucking the monocle back into his plum colored robes. Standing up, he proclaimed, "This is no copy or illusion. It is, in fact, Slytherin's family ring." Bowing his head slightly in Lux's direction, he intoned, "Greetings Lord Slytherin."
Lux inclined his head briefly to the jeweler, summoning the ring back to his hand without a word. "Thank you, Lord Fellinger." Looking confidently about the assorted wizards and witches staring at him with various degrees of shock and confusion, he deadpanned, "Is this enough proof for the members of the Wizengamot? Or shall some of your number be impudent once more and force me to undergo a blood ritual?" He looked pointedly at Lords Diggory and Selwyn, noting their flushed and indignant appearances. The two haughty purebloods just sniffed, trying to play off their embarrassment, at which Lux sent them a cocky smirk.
Turning back to the fondly smiling Amelia, Lux said, "Well Amelia, with that out of the way," He pulled his wand from where he had slipped it back into his sleeve and stated, " Madam Bones, you have my official permission as Salazar's heir to contest the Headmaster's decision in this matter." As the words left his lips, both he and Amelia were enveloped in a soft blue glow for a moment before it faded away. Must be how Magic makes it official, Lux thought to himself, shrugging lightly as he twisted the plain silver ring that adorned one of his fingers.
"Thank you, Lord Slytherin." Amelia stated formally, then turned back to look over the assembled Lords and Ladies of the Wizarding World. "Well my fellows, there are no more legal oppositions." Pacing slowly back and forth in the confined space in front of her chair, she continued, "These are your choices; first, to let our society fall further into complacency and the folly we have become entrapped in for centuries, leaving our children, and thus, the hope of our world, defenseless. Or second, take a stand. Provide our young with the foundations to protect themselves, to protect our future. You already know my –and Lord Slytherin's– choice. Esteemed members of the Wizengamot, it is time to make your own."
With a curt nod and a slight smile, Amelia Bones, English Minister of Magic and temporary Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot turned to face the assembly, warning, "Remember my brothers and sisters, we are bound not to discuss the contents of this meeting –including Lord Slytherin's identity –with anyone without the proper clearance. Now," she declared, "as the interim head of the esteemed members of the Wizengamot, I call this meeting to a close."
The various magic users sitting throughout the room stood up in unison, bowed, and began filing out of their rows as they chattered enthusiastically with their fellows. Lux leaned shoulder against the raised platform below Amelia's seat, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather pants as he watched the Wizengamot members discuss his and Amelia's defiance of the Headmaster with a small smirk playing around his lips. It felt good to get one up on the old codger, even if it was such a small victory.
Someone cleared their throat loudly behind him and, with a sigh; he spun about, raising an eyebrow. Side by side, Lords Diggory and Selwyn stood opposite him sporting self-important expressions. Bowing his head the slightest amount, Selwyn began in an arrogant tone, "Mr. Noir, I don't know if you are aware of who I am, but my name is Demetrius Selw-"
"You are Lord Demetrius Selwyn, seventy-fifth generation pureblood and head of the Ancient House of Selwyn. Your family owns a great deal of wineries along the coast of Spain as well as holding investments in most of the major companies in the wizarding world." Lux cut him off sharply, grey eyes cold. "Your companion is Lord Amos Diggory, eighty-sixth generation pureblood and head of the Ancient House of Diggory, whose family owns most of the shares in the Daily Prophet and a number of other prominent businesses." Fixing them with frigid dark grey eyes that flashed gold, he continued, "I am Lord Lux Noir-Slytherin, the last member and Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin, and I see no reason to be talking to you. Good day." He finished, turning about to walk away but stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Noir, really, if you'd just be reasonable," Diggory began, attempting to turn Lux back around forcefully by the shoulder.
Whipping around, Lux glared fiercely at the two men –who stepped back unconsciously at the power crackling behind his grey eyes which were beginning to bleed emerald. "My name, Lord Diggory, is Lord Slytherin." He spat, throwing the offensive limb off of his shoulder. "And you would do well to remember that."
"Of course." Selwyn murmured placatingly, not-so-subtly elbowing the affronted looking Diggory in the stomach. "Now my compatriot and I just wanted to discuss this tricky fighting class business to you. We think, if you'd just take a moment to look at it from our perspective-"
"Your perspective, as you put it, would have me acting the blind sycophantic puppet to the old codger Lord Selwyn." Lux cut him off coldly, regaining his calm mask. "I did not bow to the Dark Lord as my Master, nor will I to Albus Dumbledore." He spat the Headmaster's name as if it was a curse.
Amos drew himself up self-righteously and blustered, "Albus Dumbledore is a great man, and a well respected leader. How dare you compare him to You-Know-Who?"
Lux laughed harshly, jeering, "Can't even say the name, can you? Voldemort was just a man, like you and me. You idiots feared him so much that you still are unable to even utter his name, even though the maniac is dead! Thisis exactly why a fighting class is necessary you dimwits!" Breathing in deeply through his nose, he glared once more at the suitably cowed pair in front of him, before waving them away. Bowing slightly, the two scuttled gratefully away, looking terrifiedly back at the tremendously powerful man they had just pissed off.
Rubbing his forehead with a clenched fist, Lux sighed, clearing his head with a shake. Looking around for something to distract him, he caught sight of the exhausted woman leaning back in her chair above him, and grinned.
Amelia sighed wearily, sitting heavily in her seat as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer finger. It had been a long day, but they had accomplished their goal. Startled at the sound of a muffled thump, Amelia looked up to see the leather-clothed Lux sitting on the banister in front of her, swinging his feet and humming lightly as he smiled beatifically.
"Why so glum Amelia?" Lux teased, cocking his head to the side as he looked down at her. "After all, we got the class didn't we?"
"Hmm, yes." Madam Bones mumbled, massaging her temples. Waving a hand, she murmured, "You'd best get going before he notices your absence. I'll send you a letter with the Headmaster's reaction as soon as I get it."
Nodding once and patting the worn-out woman on the shoulder, Lux slid off the railing and sauntered towards the door, still humming under his breath as he swung his black and emerald cloak over his shoulders.
"Oh, by the way." Amelia called after him, looking cautiously around to see if anyone could overhear. "Good luck Harry." And with one last wink of his eyes, now a vivid emerald, he apparated away.
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, quietly mulling on the state of the world over a glass of iced firewhiskey. The wood shelves mounted on the stone walls were littered with various moving and spinning silver objects, whirring and clicking quietly in the otherwise still room. Over his half-moon spectacles, the Headmaster stared out at Hogwarts' grounds, enjoying the moment of peace. Peace that –or at least, he felt– he had well earned. Nodding once as he affirmed all was well, he turned to his office, frowning slightly as he realized that the wooden stand beside the door was, once again, empty. The ethereally flame colored bird that usually perched upon it, his phoenix and faithful familiar Fawkes, had become increasingly absent over the past years. Now, Albus was lucky to see him maybe once a month, not including the phoenix's burning days.
Sighing lightly, he let his eyes roam over the rest of his office, noticing with satisfaction that all of his spinning and whirring instruments were working properly. No thanks to young Harry, he thought mildly, remembering how the boy had destroyed most of his office the year before in his rage. His frown deepened as he recalled the crushing magical power that had flowed off the young Gryffindor in waves. The block Albus had placed on his core sixteen years ago should have prevented any magical outbursts of that power. Perhaps it is time to renew the barrier, he considered, but shook his head. No, it could not have eroded in such a short time… it is more likely that his extreme emotions produced some sort of accidental magic. It was unusual, but not unheard of, for adult wizards or witches to produce occasional bursts of inadvertent magic if their emotions were strong enough.
Satisfied with that explanation, the Headmaster turned to his desk, eyeing the various papers littering the surface wearily. He had just dipped his rather extravagant golden eagle-feather quill into his inkpot, bracing himself for the tedious process, when the fire crackling merrily away in the corner flared a bright iridescent green. Suppressing a thankful glance heavenward, Albus placed his quill in the inkwell at turned towards the fireplace with his grandfatherly smile firmly in place, relieved for the unwitting intervention between him and piles of dreary parchment.
That relief would not last for long. A neutral-faced middle aged wizard stepped calmly out of the flickering jade flames, bearing the Ministry's crest on his otherwise plain black robes. Lifting a puzzled eyebrow, Albus asked "Can I help you my boy?"
"Headmaster Dumbledore." The Ministry wizard said with a curt bow of his head. "I have something for you, from the Minister." Reaching into a satchel at his side, he pulled out a scroll tied with a plum ribbon and a drop of gold wax. Albus frowned slightly as he recognized the Wizengamot's seal, the way they fastened all their administrative documents. Why wasn't I notified that there was official business? Dumbledore wondered inwardly. The messenger cleared his throat and Albus looked up, realizing he had been lost in thought.
"Ah, yes my boy? Was there anything else?" The Headmaster asked pleasantly.
"The minister also instructed me to inform you that she requests that you read the missive immediately, and that I wait here to take back any messages you might have for her." The unknown wizard replied, moving to stand unobtrusively by the door with his hands clasped patiently behind him in standard parade rest.
Albus raised an eyebrow once again, momentarily considering the man's rather abrupt attitude. The normal reaction to being in the Headmaster's presence was rather blind sycophantic idolism combined with various stuttered variations of 'It's such an honor' and 'can't believe I'm actually', etc. Shrugging inwardly, he carefully untied the red-violet ribbon with –though he would never admit to it– a strong sense of trepidation that made his hands to shake the barest amount. Mentally berating himself but unable to do anything to cease trembling, he slipped a delicate silver knife under the wax seal.
Pulling the tightly rolled scroll taught, the Headmaster pushed his spectacles up his rather long nose, holding them there as he attempted to read the looping writing.
Albus Dumbledore, Esteemed Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Greetings.
We of the Wizengamot, in agreement with Madam Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic, dictate this letter. On this day of August 5th, the Wizengamot and Minister convened to discuss a matter pertaining to both you and your establishment. Minister Bones petitioned the assembly to adjust the curriculum of Hogwarts in order to include a physical fighting and defense class. While we would not normally have any authority with which to do this, in accordance with the Hogwarts Charter written by the four founders of Hogwarts during the time of it's origin, if given the permission of a founder's heir we do have the ability. Thus, with the consent of said heir –who's identity will not be disclosed at this time –we decree that the class will be instated before Sept. 1 and the beginning of this coming school year. Two teachers have already been chosen, and await your letter to inform them of your arrangements. If you fail to comply with these terms and in the absence of the Board of Governors, you will be suspended from your position as Headmaster pending a full inquiry.
Cordially,
The Venerated Body of the Wizengamot and Amelia Bones, Minister of Magic.
As his eyes swept down the curling lines of ink and he took in the coldly formal words, Albus struggled to maintain his genial mask in front of the stoic Ministry wizard standing discreetly in the corner of his office. Inwardly, he was clenching his teeth to avoid hexing something as he shook with rage. How dare she! He hissed mentally. Amelia had come to him several times requesting this, but he had never imagined that she would go behind his back and find a way to push the class through. To be honest, he didn't know there was a way.
And this founder's heir business! As far as he knew, the last heir was Riddle, and he was dead! The only other heir was…
Harry. Could the boy have done this? Standing quickly, Albus strode over to one of the strange silver instruments clicking away on a chest high shelf. Leaning in close with his long nose practically brushing one of the orbs dancing along a looping track, he examined it for a moment before nodding in satisfaction. There had been no change for some time now. Besides, the boy trusts me above all else. Albus thought smugly as he suppressed a triumphant smirk, thoroughly pleased with his control over his weapon.
The Ministry wizard –whom Albus had momentarily forgotten in his brief moment of panic –cleared his throat loudly, prompting the Headmaster to jump slightly in surprise. Raising an eyebrow, the unknown man asked, "Headmaster, would you like to send a reply, or shall I simply return to the Ministry with your consent?"
Scowling inwardly at what he perceived as impertinence, Albus smiled lightly, waving the man towards one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Please, sit, sit. Of course my boy, I'll draft a letter to Amelia immediately. Would you care for a lemon drop?" He asked, lifting the silver tin brimming with bright yellow spheres. Shrugging as the man declined, he retrieved his quill from the inkwell, pulling a leaf of parchment towards him and scribbling quickly across its rough surface.
Dotting the last period after his rather lengthy name with a quite a bit more vehemence than necessary, he deftly rolled the letter into a tight scroll, tying it with a ribbon conjured with a quick flick of his wand. Passing it to the waiting messenger with a slight bow, Albus was rewarded with a curt nod before the Ministry wizard turned, stepped into the crackling green flames, and disappeared. The Headmaster watched him go, waiting for a few seconds before following his path towards the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder from the copper bowl on his mantle and throwing it into the crackling blaze, he stuck his head through, shouting; "Amos!"
Harry lay on the hardwood floors of his bedroom, drawing looping designs absently across the polished surface with one of his claws. A dull buzzing sound rang from the alarm placed on his nightstand and he shot to his feet with a grin, unglamoured triangular black ears flicking forward and white-tipped tail twitching excitedly. Yanking the calendar –with September 1st circled in glaring red ink –off of the wall and throwing it into the trunk resting by the open door, he slammed the lid and shrunk the large wooden chest down to the size of a matchbox with a simple wave of his wand. Tucking the holly rod into an invisible dragonhide wand holster tied about his wrist, he swirled a cloak over his shoulders with a flourish, dropping the miniature trunk into one of the many inner pockets sewn into the lining.
Raising his fingers to his lips, Harry let out a piercing whistle, holding his arm out with an expectant expression. With a soft hoot and a rustle of wintry patterned feathers, Hedwig flew gracefully through the still open window to settle on his arm, nipping Harry's ear affectionately. "Alright there girl?" He asked softly, raising a hand to stroke the downy feathers on her chest. Nibbling his finger, the snowy owl hooted an affirmative. "Well, time to head off for old hoggy Hogwarts again, eh girl? Off to see Bumblydore!" Harry chirped blithely; face twisting into a grimace at the mention of the Headmaster. Hedwig seemed to agree with that sentiment, uttering a rather rude sounding noise that perfectly conveyed her contempt for the elderly wizard.
"Sure you'll be alright flying there, or would you rather I carry you in the cage?" Harry asked idly as he waved a clawed hand to recast his glamours. Gently nuzzling her head against her Master's for a moment, Hedwig flew back out the window as her answer. Shrugging wryly, Harry practically bounced out the doorway, being as loud as possible in order to irritate his relatives one last time.
Now you might be wondering why Harry was even staying with Vernon and Co. since, as he was now seventeen, he was technically free to leave. However, in order to placate the Headmaster and lead him further into believing that his weapon was firmly under his control, Harry had opted to stay at the Dursleys to the start of term instead of going to stay at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and Remus.
Clattering noisily down the stairs he threw open the front door, dancing happily out into the bright September sun. He waved cheekily to the scowling Petunia who was watching through the kitchen window, then turned and jauntily saluted his Order guard (Tonks) before reaching for his wand. While he technically no longer needed his wand, Harry wasn't quite used to his wandless magic yet. And besides, he wasn't going to be able to use his newfound skill in public; he had to keep up appearances. With a last glance towards his summer home for the past seventeen years, he smirked and, with a sharp twist and an almost silent pop, apparated away.
"BLOODY BUGGERING-!" Harry shouted, his cries muffled in the tile floor his face was buried into. "I HATE MAGICAL TRAVEL!" Pushing himself easily onto his feet, Harry looked around at the incredulous expressions of the other witches and wizards of various ages gather around him. "What?" The crowd shook their heads in astonishment, seemingly rather shocked that their Savior would act so ungainly. They whispered behind their hands, pointing at him conspicuously and staring at his scar, oblivious to his irritated glares.
Annoyed at all the attention, Harry turned to take in the sight of the familiar scarlet-red steam engine resting on the tracks. Platform 9 ¾ was bustling with Hogwarts students of all ages pushing carts loaded with trunks and screeching owls, shepherded about by anxious and harried looking parents. Excited first years were being ushered onto to the train by their parents, yelling goodbyes and shaky reassurances. Friends called out greetings over the dull roar that was the chattering multitude, slapping each other on the back and bantering. Harry smiled wryly, stepping aboard the train and weaving down the crowded corridor to his standard compartment.
Settling in and pulling the entrance shut against the cacophony of sounds, he leaned against the padded seats, looking out through the window at the sea of people. He noted some familiar faces among the throng; Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, two of his dorm-mates, stood side-by-side chattering with their parents. Susan Bones was waving a last goodbye to her aunt, Amelia, carrying a grey kitten in one arm. Terry Boot, a seventh year Ravenclaw, stood in a circle with some of his housemates whom Harry didn't recognize.
Harry was drawn from his observation of the crowd by the sound of the door sliding open. Turning around, he smiled softly at the aristocratic boy framed in the door way. "Hey Drake, come on in." He patted the seat beside him with an expectant expression, frowning when the boy shook his head.
"Sorry Angel, but I've got a better plan." Draco responded, peeking his head out to see if anyone had seen him before shutting the door and casting a strong locking charm on it. Leaning against the hard wood, arms crossed, he explained, "I want to really make a bang."
Grinning, Harry asked, "Come into the Great Hall together then?" Draco nodded. "Today, or tomorrow?"
"I'm thinking tomorrow." The blonde said, stroking his chin with a thoughtful expression. "Everyone's all riled up today; it won't get the proper response. They'll be too focused on the sorting and it being the first day and all." He waved a hand airily, the gears in his mind turning as he calculated the likely reaction their friendship was going to receive.
"We'll have to meet later to plan it out." Harry deliberated, brow furrowed. "Your common room or mine?"
"Mine." Draco chose, then threw the younger boy a smirk. "Gryffindorks couldn't keep a secret if you paid them."
Sticking his tongue out childishly, Harry couldn't help but agree with the blonde. His housemates were not known for their efficiency with secrecy, their hot tempers making them annoyingly liable to shout sensitive information at the top of their lungs at unfortunate moments. "Alright. I know Blaise already knows, but does anyone else?"
Scratching his head, the younger Malfoy thought for a moment before replying, "Theo does, but I think that's everyone. You?"
"Just Fred and George." Harry responded, shrugging. "I wasn't quite sure who I could trust for a while, and then there wasn't ever a safe room without Dumbles' spies for me to tell them."
"Well you'd best prepare 'em, unless you want them to get the shock of their lives." Draco warned, winking cheekily. Breaking the locking charm with a twist of his wand, he said, "Slytherin dungeons after dinner. See ya Angel," and slipped out the door.
Not a minute later, there was a sharp nock on the wood before the panel slid open once again. Neville and Luna walked into the compartment, clasped hands swinging between them.
"Nev, Luna!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up to pull the pair into a hug. "You finally got together!"
The couple blushed, looking lovingly at each other before smiling sheepishly. "Don't know what you're talking about." Neville mumbled, while Luna just adopted her usual dreamy expression, looking at her boyfriend fondly.
"The Flumdigets nesting in his hair chose another host, so he's not as confused now." Luna told Harry in a conspiratorial whisper, waving her hand airily somewhat at the vicinity of Neville's head, accompanied by Harry's genial nod with a raised eyebrow the only sign of his confusion. After a few years having known the imaginative 6th year, Harry was pretty much immune to her seemingly, erm, rather eccentric tendencies. But he wasn't fooled by her quirky exterior; Harry firmly believed that she just saw things that others couldn't.
Plopping back down into his seat by the window he waved them onto the bench across from him, beaming brilliantly. Looking at the bright grin, Neville started, leaning in to peer closer. "Uh, Harry?" He began nervously.
Smile faltering, Harry asked, "Yeah Nev?"
"Er, if you don't mind me asking, have you been bitten by a vampire recently?" The Longbottom heir queried hesitantly.
"Uh, no?" Harry's response ended with a question, voice becoming higher as he looked at his friend as if the larger boy wasn't quite right in the head. "Whyyyy?" He asked, drawing the word out.
Shakily, Neville responded, "R- right. Er, it- it's just your, ah, teeth are looking a li- little… sharp there." He looked to Luna for help, but the spritely blonde just blinked at him with an airy smile.
Clapping a hand to his mouth, Harry fingered the sharp points; his unglamoured fangs. In his rush to finally get out of the Dursleys' house, he'd cast a glamour over all of his new features… except one. The gleaming bestial fangs, two upper and two lower, had been left exposed. Luckily, they were the least likely to be seen. Unluckily, Neville and Luna had seen them. Hissing a vibrant curse that had Neville blushing and Luna coughing to hide a giggle, Harry waved a hand over his mouth, teeth shimmering before fading into normal teeth, if a slight bit longer and pointer than normal.
"Harry what-?" Neville began, but Harry cut him off.
"Not now!" He hissed, glancing warily towards the flimsy door. Underneath the glamour, his black cat ears were flicking to and fro, easily picking up the sounds of footsteps and chatter from outside the entrance to their compartment. "There's too big a chance that someone will hear or walk in."
Luna just nodded seriously, commenting, "Oh yes, the Wrackspurts have a bad habit of listening to peoples' conversations; it's how they find good minds to confuse." Blinking mutely at his girlfriend, Neville slowly settled back into his seat, shifting his eyes to fix them contemplatively on Harry.
For a few moments, they sat noiselessly, the two males mutely deliberating and Luna humming slightly off-key under her breath. Finally, Harry asked Neville what he'd thought of the game between the Ballycastle Bats and the Wimborne Wasps. Ron had mentioned it in one of the predictably short letters he'd sent Harry over the summer, somewhere in between his new broom and how awesome it was to be famous. The two boys talked amicably about Quidditch for a while, with Luna adding in a quirky comment here and there, before the door slid open once again.
"Hey Ron." Harry greeted, falsely chipper.
"Harry, Neville… Lovegood." Ron replied with barely veiled boredom. The gangly redhead stepped arrogantly through the doorway and plopped into his seat with no more than his cursory greeting, a smug look on his face. Ever since the 'final battle', as the wizarding world called it, the Weasleys had been doing better financially than they had the past hundred years. Their income, what with Arthur being promoted to the head of his division and Ron's status as 'the best friend of the savior', had experience a considerable jump.
Harry knew that Dumbledore had been giving the Weasleys money out of the Potter vaults since before he'd even started Hogwarts. He suspected that the Headmaster had told the family that it was from Albus' vaults, for service in the war, and that most of the Weasleys had no idea that the money had come from Harry himself. Ron and Ginny however, were another story. Ragnok had informed him that the two youngest Weasley children had been provided with personal vaults the year before Harry first stepped foot into the wizarding world. Both Ron and Ginny were provided a monthly allowance of around a thousand galleons; meaning each had been paid around 84,000 galleons out of Harry's accounts.
Harry had experienced quite a row with Ragnok over how that was even possible. The goblin replied that the Headmaster claimed to be Harry's magical guardian, and thus had control over his assets until Harry's coming of age. Not having known what a magical guardian was, let alone that he had one, the Director of Gringotts had explained rather lengthily on the matter.
*Flashback*
"A Magical Guardian?" Harry asked, confused. "What's that?"
Seeing that Ragnok looked rather affronted at the question, Harry hastily began apologizing; fearing that he'd insulted the goblin. But the Managing Director waved him off, saying, "I'm not offended with you child. Rather, that the Headmaster did not tell you. As your magical guardian, it is his duty to inform you of his status; if he is in fact your guardian."
Throwing his hands in the air, Harry exclaimed, "The man never tells me anything!" fisting his hands in his hair and tugging. "Wait a minute-" He started, the rest of the Goblin's sentence sinking in. "What do you mean if?"
Ragnok sighed, a guilty expression on his face. "When Headmaster Dumbledore first came to the bank to inspect your accounts, we asked him what grounds he had to do so. He replied that he was your magical guardian. However, he did not show the paperwork that backed his claim. And even though it is against protocol, the Goblin Teller that was dealing with the Headmaster did not ask to see said paperwork, merely accepting the man's word. Apparently he did not see a need to."
Pinching the bridge of his long nose between two spindly fingers, the goblin said wearily, "The goblin was reprimanded, but we did not correct the error and ask for proof… But I am beginning to believe that the Headmaster was not truthful in his claims…"
"Is there any way we can find out?" Harry asked, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "A- A record or something?"
The goblin hummed, turning to a filing cabinet on the wall behind his desk. Opening a drawer and rifling through the various folders, he 'ah ha'ed triumphantly, pulling a thick file out with a flourish. Laying it on his desk and flipping through, Ragnok leaned in, long nose almost brushing the parchment. "Ah, here we are." He exclaimed, retrieving an official looking sheaf of papers and placing it in front of him. Placing spectacles upon his nose, Ragnok ran a finger under the lines of ink as he read, lips moving silently. Reaching the end, he sighed emphatically, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his domed forehead jadedly.
"Er, Ragnok?" Harry hedged, watching the weary Goblin with concern.
Startled, Ragnok looked up, seeming to have forgotten that he was not alone. "I am sorry Master Pot- er, Harry." He said, gazing at the black-haired teen solemnly. "I was, as the muggles say it, off in my own world."
Leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk in front of him, the Goblin continued, waving a hand at the paper he'd just been reading, "This is a copy of the will of one Mr. Sirius Black, your godfather. While Lord Black is not dead, and we would not normally open his will until the time of his death, I had a sneaking suspicion it would be necessary. Now, as you know your parents' Will went missing shortly after their death." Harry nodded, the Managing Director having told him that when the teen brought it up some time ago. "In that will they would have named your guardians in the case of their death, but as we have no copy of it, you were placed with your relatives by the Headmaster. If he was your magical guardian as he claimed, he had every right to choose your living quarters in the event that he did not want to or could not take care of you himself."
Looking seriously over his glasses, Ragnok went on, "However, in Lord Black's will, he states that he is your magical guardian as named by your parents before their death. And, though he was in Azkaban prison for 12 years, that status was never changed. He was, and is, your guardian, not the Headmaster."
Ragnok sat back, a frown wrinkling his already creased face. "As such the Headmaster has been making illegal transactions by removing gold from your vault for young Mr. and Ms. Weasley's allowances, as well as the family's yearly allowance. There have also been numerous times that Headmaster Dumbledore removed large sums from the Potter accounts to fund an organization he called 'The Order of the Phoenix.'"
"Formally, I apologize for this transgression Mr. Potter." Ragnok intoned, standing and bowing from the waist before regaining his seat. "Not only is this an affront to you, but to myself and this establishment. The Headmaster should not have been able to steal from you or this bank, and he will pay for his actions."
*End Flashback*
Technically, the sums that the Headmaster had pulled from the Potter vaults hadn't even made a dent in his fortune. The Potters were an old family, with centuries of accumulated wealth constantly gathering interests in the bank. And that wasn't even including the Slytherin fortune that Harry had inherited. Still, the fact that the Headmaster was removing money from his vaults illegally only bolstered Harry's mistrust and hatred of the man.
But, in order to keep up appearances, Harry had allowed Albus to continue paying the various Weasleys their allowances. The next month, in another meeting with Ragnok, Harry found out that the Headmaster had been paying not only Ron and Ginny, but Hermione as well. The bushy-haired Gryffindor had been receiving money from the Headmaster since their second year at Hogwarts.
Hermione's infidelity had hit him harder than the rest. While Harry had considered Ron and Ginny good company and friends, Hermione had become like a sister to him. Hurt and betrayed, he'd confronted the girl about it just months before his final battle with Voldemort.
*Flashback*
Closing the door with a sharp click and throwing several strong locking and silencing charms on it, Harry rounded on Hermione with a thunderous expression. "How could you?" Tears in his eyes, his voice was cracked, broken, full of the betrayal he felt.
She just looked at him confusedly, raising an eyebrow. "How could I what? Harry, what's going on? Are you alright?" Hermione asked, expression full of concern.
"Don't give me that crap." Harry spat. "You know bloody well what! Spying on me for Dumbledore, the bloody buggering old coot! How much is he paying you, hmm?"
Hermione reared back as if she were slapped. "What? Spying? Harry, what are you talking about?"
Harry got right in front of her, glaring up into her face. "You, Ron and Ginny, reporting to the Headmaster about every bloody thing I do! Accepting money from him to tail me every freaking second of my life! You-!" He cut himself off, looking up into her brown eyes. The gentle sienna orbs were murky, covered in a cloudy blue film. "Oh 'Mione…" Harry breathed, recognizing the signs of a compulsion charm. Reaching up to brush a curl of hair out of her face, he whispered, "What has he done to you?"
"Harry, please, you're scaring me!" Hermione pleaded, eyes darting to and fro between his two emerald orbs.
Smiling sadly, he softly asked, "'Mione, do you trust me?" The girl nodded jerkily, freezing when he pointed his wand at her.
"Harry, what-?" She began, but he cut her off.
"Just trust me 'Mione. Close your eyes, I'm not gonna hurt you." He murmured, waiting until her eyelids slid shut. Flicking his wand, he spoke a soft counter-charm, watching as the sparkling blue light encompassed Hermione's still form.
Slowly, the glow faded, and Hermione was revealed, face haunted. "He- I, wh- what…" She stuttered, hands fluttering and eyes flitting about before landing on Harry. Gentle brown orbs brimming with tears, she whispered brokenly, "How could he?"
Gathering the weeping girl into his arms and pulling her into a chair, Harry petted her curly brown hair calmingly, rocking her gently from side to side. "Oh Harry," Hermione sobbed, clutching him desperately, "I'm s- so s- sorry! He- he made me w-watch you a- and put your money in m- my v- vault! H- He…"
"Shh 'Mione…" Harry soothed, tipping her chin up until she met his eyes. "It's not your fault! Dumbledore put a compulsion charm on you, you couldn't help it!"
"W- Why?" Hermione wailed, eyes wild and hair flying out of its constrained bun. "Everyone says he's s- such a g- good man, everyone always b- believes that! I always b- believed that!"
Sighing, Harry explained grimly, "Well everyone's wrong, aren't they? He believes what he does is right, that it's for 'the greater good'. But in doing so, he plays people like pawns for his own gain. He thinks he has the right to control our lives." He buried his face in Hermione's hair. "To control my life." He whispered, voice carrying all of his shattered faith in the man he'd once trusted above all else.
"Oh Harry." Hermione murmured, sitting up and hugging him to her chest, their positions reversed. "He's hurt you the most out of all of us, hasn't he? Oh, my little brother, what has he done to you?" She let him sob silently onto her shoulder for a few moments before clasping him against her protectively, eyes fierce. "I won't let that man hurt you anymore. If he thinks he can control you, he'll have to go through me."
*End Flashback*
Harry and Hermione had become even closer after that, and Harry's anger at the man he once called mentor only grew. Hermione, who had always trusted authority figures implicitly, grew to realize that just because someone was a teacher, an official, etc., didn't mean that they always knew best.
Harry was drawn out of his musings as, with a light knock, the compartment door slid open once again. Looking up the black haired teen smiled gently, thinking ironically, 'Speak of the devil...' Hermione, wildly curly hair tamed and pulled back in a sleek bun, long legs covered in cut-off shorts and wearing a bright-orange tee, stood in the doorway.
"Hey sis." Harry greeted with a wave and a cheeky wink, popping up to kiss her quickly on the cheek. He glanced over at Ron and coughed to cover a snort. The redhead was staring blatantly at Hermione, eyes glazed and a bit of drool drabbling out the corner of his mouth.
"Hey little brother." Hermione replied, gaze roving over the cabin. "Neville, Luna." She nodded to each of them with a smile, before glaring over at Ronald, barely veiled disgust in her eyes. "Ronald." She sniffed, folding gracefully into a seat next to Harry and ignoring Ron's inevitable jealous tensing. "Ron, I've just come from the prefect's carriage. You're wanted there." She informed the redhead, noting the relieved glint in Harry's eyes.
Shaking his head with a grunt, Ron lurched to his feet, stalking out of the compartment and banging it closed behind him, muttering to himself about 'Bloody boy-who-lived, stealing my girlfriend.'
Flicking her wand towards the door with a chuckle at Ron's antics, Hermione locked and muffled the compartment, leaning back and crossing her legs with a satisfied air. "There." She exclaimed, nodding emphatically.
Pulling his nose from the Herbology book he'd buried himself in after Ron's arrival, Neville looked at the door for a minute before turning to Harry. "Well, you want to explain now?" The Longbottom heir requested seriously, crossing his arms.
Looking between the two boys, Harry anxious and Neville stern, Hermione asked confusedly, "Explain what? Harry?"
"Heh heh…" Harry hedged, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly… "Well you know how my seventeenth birthday just happened and all?"
Hermione, Neville and Luna nodded slowly, before understanding dawned on Neville's face. "Of course, your magical inheritance!"
"Did something big happen to you Harry?" Hermione asked worriedly, hands fluttering over Harry's body, as if to check for injuries.
Blushing, Harry sighed, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees. "Well, it's like this…"
A.N.; We just had to put my dog, Moet, down because she was getting too old. We've had her for ten years now, since she was 5, and it's hit my family pretty hard. I may not be able to get a chapter up next week, or maybe I'll throw myself into writing to take my mind off things, I don't know. Anyway, if anyone wants an idea as to what Harry/Lux's outfit looks like, the link is http:/ media . photobucket . com / image / anime%20leather / Vendi_girl / Anime / Guys / LeatherBound . jpg
To NightKiryuu; I don't have anything against Diggory, I just needed one or two characters to be antagonistic and idiotic and Diggory was the first name that came to mind.