A/N: /blows dust off of fic. Blimey, how long's it been since I updated this. A year? That's...well, that's never happened before. My most sincere apologies to any of you who continue to follow this shambolic excuse for a super!Harry fic. I do seem to have lost my muse for this tale, as you might be able to tell from the end of this chapter. I hope to wrap it up quickly (though most likely unsatisfactorily for most of you, and truly most likely unsatisfactorily for myself as well), with less than a year (!) between updates. Chapter is below.
Draco followed his Head of House onto the revolving staircase leading to the Headmaster's office with some trepidation. Following behind Snape had allowed him to send Harry a message on the fake Galleon he'd been given by Hermione before they'd left for King's Cross earlier in the day for just this sort of situation.
"Summoned to Dumbles. Please follow and assist? –D"
As they reached the fifth floor, Draco had received a surreptitious pat on the arse. With a quick glance over his shoulder showing nobody, he decided Harry was under his Invisibility Cloak and would be just behind him until and unless needed.
"Good evening, Prefect Malfoy," Dumbledore said as Snape led him into the opulent tower office full of books and odd silver devices (and a strangely stand-offish Phoenix) before taking a position two steps behind and one step to the left of Draco.
"Good evening, Headmaster," Draco replied. The Phoenix looked at him, and at a point one step back and one step to the right of him where he assumed Harry was before letting out a warbling song of greeting.
"Hello," Draco said to the bird, hopefully covering Harry's presence. The Headmaster, in any case, did not appear to notice.
"I would like to discuss one of your fellow Prefects this evening," Dumbledore said. Draco maintained an indifferent face. He was quite interested to hear how and why Dumbledore proposed he be punished for hexing that arse Weasley.
"Very well, sir, which one?"
"Prefect Weasley of Gryffindor," Dumbledore said. "He was found injured in the Entrance Hall this evening shortly after you entered the Great Hall well after the rest of the returning students."
"Your point being?" Draco asked, his Pureblood drawl in full effect.
"Did you attack Prefect Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, coming directly to the point.
"Yes," Draco said. "To answer your forthcoming query of 'Why?', the ginger idiot made the grievous error of speaking gross insults to myself and my bond-mates, the Lady Granger and Head Potter. I was well within my rights to do everything I did to him, and in fact I could have done a great deal worse, and would have but for my Lady's restraint."
"So you have completed the Triad bond," Dumbledore said, his voice flat and his eyes far duller than the twinkling visage he'd presented when Draco and Snape (and Harry) had entered the room.
"We have," Draco confirmed. "You saw the early proof of that when you tried to have Head Potter expelled from the Wizengamot."
"I'm afraid, though, that regardless of whether the Wizengamot would acquit you of any wrongdoing for your actions, dismembering classmates and sexually assaulting them with their own body hair is against Hogwarts' rules," Dumbledore said. "Such behavior is doubly against the rules for Prefects. You are expected to set an example for the other students."
"I think that teaching them that they don't have to put up with derogatory comments from uncultured idiots is setting a positive example," Harry said, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak and making his presence known, much to Dumbledore's surprise. "Good evening, Headmaster."
"Good evening, Harry," Dumbledore replied, his facial expression changing to one of annoyance.
"May I ask what you're doing here?"
"Protecting my bond-mate," Harry said. "Neither of you have ever given me any reason to trust you not to attempt to harm him should he be left alone with you."
"So then you heard him admit to assaulting Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked, ignoring Harry's jibe.
"I did," Harry confirmed, his tone challenging Dumbledore to get to the point.
"Surely you're not going to let him get away with harming your friend."
"As I made clear to the idiot while he was spouting off, he is no longer my friend. I have no use for such an intolerant ass in my circle of friends, and frankly he was never much of a friend in the first place."
"And you think what Mister Malfoy did was warranted?"
"What Draco did to Weasley was the minimum necessary to revenge us against Weasley's ill-advised verbal diarrhea. If Draco is punished with anything more than a loss of ten points for use of magic outside the classroom and two detentions with his Head of House, you and I shall duel for insulting us, Professor." His steely tone brooked no argument.
Dumbledore's eyes flashed with surprise, and most noticeably anger. Harry's staff, in return, flashed with green power, and Dumbledore's anger vanished.
"Ten points from Slytherin," he growled out. "And detention for two nights with Professor Snape."
Harry smirked. "Bravo, Professor. Perhaps there's still hope for you to see sense after all."
"You insolent brat," Snape growled. Harry's gaze was on him before he could utter another word, and braver men than Severus Snape would have quailed at it.
"Lady Hermione gave neither of us any limitations when it comes to responding to attacks from you," Harry said. "If you continue to act in the manner you have previously when it comes to her and me, you'll wish we'd limited our response to what was done to Weasley, and will beg for the sweet release of death by werewolf. You, Severus Snape, are now and always have been, a foul, ill-tempered, greasy git. Good evening."
With that said, Harry spun on his heel and left the Headmaster's office. Draco was quick to follow, to avoid retribution from Snape or Dumbledore. Once they were down the spiral staircase, past the gargoyle and two corridors over, Draco found himself being pinned to the wall and snogged heavily by Harry.
"What'd you do to Weasley, anyway?"
"Severed the tips of his pinkies, cursed him with boils and turned his back hair into a dildo that was trying to fuck him," Draco said.
"Gross," Harry said. "I'm sure McGonagall was incredibly offended."
"I don't intend to find out. Where's Hermione?"
"Finding us some quarters. We have no intention of sneaking out every night to find you or trying to arrange surreptitious meetings during prefect rounds."
"How noble of you to take steps to include me when the two of you could just go at it alone each night in that no-doubt-gaudily-furnished Tower of yours," Draco said. Harry pouted.
"Well that would take all the fun out of it, for me at least," Harry said. "And I'm sure she'd miss you too, don't think I haven't caught you two playing before I wake up."
Draco didn't even bother to look ashamed. "So what's the plan until she finds somewhere?"
"Snog you, obviously," Harry replied, returning to said activity until breaking off with a gasp and pulling his charmed Galleon out of his pocket. His face lit up with a grin as he grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him along the corridors.
The room was in the History of Magic corridor, guaranteeing that hardly anyone would ever be there because Hogwarts legend held that Binns haunted that entire corridor, floating from room to room spouting off about various and sundry Goblin rebellions. Casting a couple detection spells, Draco noted that Hermione had been thoughtful enough to include a spirit-repelling ward on the room. A large bed had been set up, and there were three wardrobes in the room. Harry and Hermione's trunks were already beside two of them, and even as Draco stared at the third, his own trunk appeared beside it.
Harry beamed. "I love house-elves," he said. "They're brilliant."
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The man-like-thing-once-known-as Tom Riddle blew out another library window with an explosive curse as he closed the last book that contained any reference to Chosen Trios.
He had found that Trios were brought together by Magic at times of great disruption to magical society by conflict between the Dark and the Light, with one or the other trying to gain absolute power over all of society, and were tasked with restoring order. More often than not, this resulted in the complete destruction of the Dark and/or Light Societies responsible for the unrest, with the rest of the wizarding population being cowed into submission afterwards for the next century or so, until after the Trio responsible for restoring the Balance passes on.
Potter, the mudblood Granger, and young Malfoy had obviously been called into action to stop his war against Dumbledore, which he had begun in secret not long after graduating Hogwarts and then begun actively in the late 1960s when quiet bribery, backroom threats, and selective assassination had failed to accomplish his goals. They had been modest in the beginning: the repeal of the host of the anti-Dark laws pushed through the Wizengamot by Dumbledore in the wake of the Grindelwald War. After five Horcruxes, though, he'd decided it would just be easier, better, and more fun for him to take over the entire country.
He would admit, during any of the brief moments of lucidity he had, that his methods leading up to his first defeat by Harry Potter had been more counter-productive than anything, and definitely more detrimental to the Pureblood movement he claimed to be leading. He'd wiped out no less than a third of the Pureblood families in Britain, and critically endangered half the rest. As a result, there were more Muggleborn in this generation than any time since the late 1860s: the magic that would have been wielded by Pureblood heirs had instead been gifted to filthy Muggles, because he and his followers had killed the Purebloods.
A re-think of strategy was definitely in order. After all, he had absolutely no desire to be permanently vanquished by Potter.
THIS LINEBREAK BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE INTERNATIONAL UNION OF LINES LOCAL #4837
"Yami ga, wo hitori no, jibun wo tsukuru!"
There was a flash of light, a spike of pain, and suddenly Harry felt incredibly lighter. That is, until he saw the reason for both the pain and the lightness: there was another him, half-sitting, half-leaning against the table in their quarters with a devilish smirk on his face.
"Bloody hell," he breathed.
"Tsk tsk," his double said. "Cursing is unbecoming of you, Light."
"What are you?" Harry asked. "And why did you call me Light?"
"Because that's what you are," the duplicate said. "As to what I am…I'm part of you. Every Grey has two halves: a Dark and a Light. You've taken it a step further with having a male and a female lover. The spell you just cast splits a powerful-enough-Grey into two separate magic-wielding beings. You are the Light, Draco-loving part of you, and I am the Dark, Hermione-loving part of you. This way, your Light, Defenisive Magic compliments his, and my Dark, Offensive Magic compliments hers."
Harry stared at his Dark half appraisingly. "OK," he said, as the door burst open to admit Hermione and Draco.
"I knew he'd done something stupid!" she exclaimed. "Harry…why are there two of you?"
"Yes, and why are you both wearing clothes?" Draco asked, shutting the door behind him.
"I found an interesting Japanese spell for Greys that splits me into my Dark and Light halves," Light Harry answered Hermione.
"And we're both wearing clothes because neither of us wants to fuck ourself," Dark Harry answered Draco.
"But now you're here," Light Harry said, walking over and throwing his arms around Draco, while Dark Harry did the same to Hermione.
"So let's get this freaky party started," Dark Harry said.
UMM HEY LOOK OVER THERE IT'S A CRUMPLE-HORNED SNORKACK!
"So…you found a spell that separates your Grey essence into your Dark and Light halves?"
"Yep," Harry said. "Japanese, as I told you before. The book wasn't even in the Restricted Section."
"I wonder why not?" Hermione asked.
"Well, I mean, there is a certain power requirement before you even consider that you have to have survived a Judgment Ritual to use spells like these, and maybe five witches and wizards per country in any given generation will manage a feat like that," Harry said.
"I suppose," Hermione said. "It's also good that we found out that exhausting either essence will collapse the spell and combine you into one body again."
"Quite, but I'd rather we hadn't found out the way we had," Draco groused as a black owl attacked their window.
"Odd color, for an owl," Harry quipped as he opened the window with a gesture. The bird flew in, dropped an envelope in Harry's lap and alit to the windowsill. Obviously, the letter was expecting an immediate reply.
"I recognize that handwriting," Draco said, looking at the envelope over Harry's shoulder. "That's the Dark Lord's. Why's he writing you?"
"Search me," Harry said. "He's never done it before. Usually just fucks about with my head." Casting detection spells at the envelope, he soon determined it was safe to open.
A single folded sheet of parchment fell out, and Harry picked it up to read.
To Harry James, Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter
Greetings.
I am well aware that you will view the mere arrival of this letter with suspicion, given the nature of our previous interactions, but I have recently become aware of several things that necessitated its writing.
First, that you – like I, fifty years ago – have undergone and survived a Ritual of Judgment. I came out a Lord of Dark Magic, and immediately set about mastering the Dark Arts and bringing ultimate power to the Dark Side. I am ashamed to admit I have failed to master the Arts, and they have instead mastered me. You, on the other hand, came out as a very powerful Neutral practitioner of Magic, able to wield with relative ease the magic of both the Dark and the Light.
Second, that some of the Acts I performed trying to use Dark Magic to secure immortality have left my psyche incredibly fragile, and that my once keen and cunning mind has fractured along with my soul. I am granted only occasional moments of lucidity and sanity, and I am using them to compose this letter.
Third, that your Choosing, along with Heir Malfoy and the Lady Granger, has weakened me. In particular, Heir Malfoy coming out of his Judgment Ritual as a Lord of Dark Magic has taken most of the magical power boost the Ritual gave me all those years ago. I am left with my own substantial original magic, with a small fraction of a boost from the Ritual, though I doubt that will last much longer. Magic, like Nature, abhors paradoxes, and there being two Dark Lords (though Heir Malfoy would likely object to having his title rearranged as such, most Common folk will do so; he may as well just get used to it) certainly qualifies as a paradox. As Heir Malfoy is the most recent incumbent to the title, he will soon take what little surplus power I had.
Fourth, that the combination of the first three things has led me to a realization that I cannot hope to prevail in a fight against you. However, I did not choose my new name randomly, I truly do not wish to die. If you were curious about the vague way I phrased the third paragraph, I shall elaborate here. If you weren't, I shall anyway, because it's my letter, I'll do what I want. I created Horcruxes – an object in which a portion of my soul (torn from the whole by cold-blooded murder) is stored. They tied me to this plane of existence, so when my original body was destroyed by my own reflected curse fifteen years ago, what was left of my original soul remained here. It was in this form I encountered you in your first year.
I ask a favour of you, Head Potter: that you and your Bonded assist me in retrieving my remaining Horcruxes (you seem to have destroyed the one I left Heir Malfoy's imbecilic father) and attempt to partially heal my soul in exchange for my retirement from terrorism and attempting to overthrow the Ministry by force. I will order my servants to surrender themselves to you for prosecution and judgment, and exile myself from Britain while I seek to prolong my life and avoid Death.
My owl will await your reply, however long it takes you to compose one.
At your service,
Thomas Marvolo, Scion of the Ancient House of Gaunt
"Well," Harry said, looking up from the parchment and looking at his two bond-mates, who'd read it over his shoulders, "that was unexpected."
A/N 2: DUN DUN DUNNNN! Polite!AdmitsHeHasAProblem!Surrendering!Voldy! Don't think I've ever seen that one before. Also, don't ask why everybody is so very polite (however forced) in this chapter, and using courtesy titles everywhere. I don't know myself, and I wrote the bloody thing.
To recap from the top, though: No idea how much longer this fic will run, though it's days are obviously numbered since I'm trying to take out the major antagonist right now, no idea what might come in the next chapter or when it might come, though I will try for before next Christmas.
Again, sorry for the long wait, and equally sorry if this didn't measure up to expectations.
See you when I see you!
-Phoenix II