Honor among Thieves

Chapter ten

xxx

'Galaera...'

'... Galaera...'

'... Galaera!'

"G-go away..."

'... Galaera... listen...'

'Galaera... remember...'

'... Avenge... us... Galaera!'

"No! Go away! I don't want to remember!"

'GALAERA!'

"Sistilth? Are you all right?"

She awoke.

xxx

"Sistilth? Are you all right?"

"Hn... wha?"

"You were thrashing and twisting violently in your sleep... you bit the pillow. See?"

Harry pointed the mark out, even as Sistilth calmed her nerves.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm... fine. It was just a bad dream."

"A dream? Snakes have dreams?"

She hissed in wry amusement.

"Everything that sleeps, dreams, boy. Even snakes."

"Wow... I didn't realize that. But from what I saw, you were having a very bad dream indeed. Care to share?"

"Some things... are best kept private."

Harry shrugged.

"Suit yourself. Klinky has breakfast ready though. Would you prefer a chunk of beef, or a nice, juicy rat?"

"Beef today? Hm... yummy beef..."

Harry laughed as Sistilth slithered up his arm to coil around his shoulders. He never noticed, and she ignored, the soft whisper echoing through the room.

'Galaera...'

xxx

"Young master has mail! And christmas gifts!"

Harry blinked slowly.

"Christmas... Gifts?"

"You vere expecting radishes, perhaps, young master?"

Harry couldn't help but stare at the pile of boxes.

"Go ahead, Harry. We already opened ours while you were sleeping."

"Of course, neither of us recieved the sheer volume of presents that you did. It looks like everyone at school sent you something."

"Open ours first."

Harry was still stunned as a box was crammed into his arms, and he slowly peeled the paper off. Then opened it.

Then his face went nuclear red.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?"

"You don't like it?"

"It's a... a..."

It was a frilly, pink sundress and straw hat. Harry was not pleased. Still, once the howls of laughter had died down, it had proven to be an excellent icebreaker, and he was much more relaxed about opening the presents.

Most of them were candy, in one form or another. Chocolate frogs, blood pops... the Count snatched those out of his hand... Cockroach Clusters, that he happily passed on to Gnarl, and more. Then there were the more expensive presents. Draco had sent a set of emerald dress robes, along with an invitation to the annual christmas ball held at Malfoy Manor. Some Lupin person had sent 'The Illegal Guide to becoming an Illegal Animagus'. Susan Bones had sent a book that most of the ministry probably wished didn't exist... 'Loopholes in the Law, and how to exploit them for fun and profit.' Then there was...

"My old invisibility cloak! I was wondering if Dumbledore would get around to sending it to you, or if he'd just had it put back in the vaults. This is great! I remember that I used to have so much fun with this... sneaking to the kitchens at night... setting up pranks with my friends... sneaking into the girls dorm to watch Lily sleep... actually, that last was a whole lot more boring than I expected."

Clong!

"You did what, where now?"

"AAH! L-lily-flower... That is..."

Clong, Clong, Clong!

Harry winced as Zombie-James fell to the floor, clutching at his head and moaning.

"Y'know... one of these days you're going to say something really stupid, and she's gonna splatter your skull like an overripe melon. Was she this violent when you married her?"

"... No. It was the hormone shift after the pregnancy. Takes a lot of witches that way. But on the other hand, she also got a lot more active in the bedroom, so..."

The skillet flew around the corner to impact with the back of Zombie-James' head, sending him back to the ground.

"Okay... that's right up near the top of my list of 'thing's I'd rather not have known.' Moving along... what's this about a ball? Should we go?"

"Do you want to?" Ranma asked.

"No... not really."

"Then we're going."

"Wait... then again... it might be fun?"

"Good. I'm sure you'll enjoy it."

James had to snicker at how easily his son had been manipulated. His mouth was flopping open and closed like a fish out of water.

"Now, son, you must understand that... you can never win an argument with a woman. So don't even try. Just nod and... smile... Lily is... standing right behind me, isn't she?"

CLONG-ONG-ONG!

xxx

The ball was... interesting. Harry had chosen to wear the emerald dress robes that Draco had sent him, completely ignoring the suggestions that Ranma and Herb had made, about wearing the sundress they'd given him instead. He had no doubt that he'd be forced into it at one point or another, but best that he put it off for as long as possible.

Ranma was wearing some sort of chinese dress made out of silk. It was black, with a white and gray floral print, and it only came down to her knees, completely shocking the old biddies wearing pointy hats and robes that didn't show anything but their hands and faces. She'd also picked up a necklace with an emerald cabochon set as a centerpiece somewhere.

Herb had taken a completely different route. She was wearing armor. Hardened, rigid dragonscale armor, bracers, and shinguards over something made of pink fabric. Setting it off was a silver tiara with a ruby.

Hell, the invitation had said formal dress. So they had dressed formally. So it wasn't 'English Wizard' formal, who cared?

Apparently, just about everyone. Or everyone above school age, anyway. Their Slytherin contemporaries were mostly impressed with the choice of outfit, with a few notably disgusted exceptions. Parkinson, for instance.

"Interesting choice of dress, Potter."

And then there was Snape, hovering about like a huge, malevolent bat.

"Apparently, Professor, Herb's outfit was traditional formal wear for her family. The fact that armor is part and parcel of it says a great deal, I believe."

"Ah... and Saotome?"

"I believe hers is traditional as well sir. Although she was more close-mouthed about it."

Silence fell as both took a sip of their chosen refreshments.

"You know, Potter, the Headmaster is quite convinced that you've chosen to spend the winter on the beaches of Hawaii."

"Is that where it ended up?"

"And as a Professor, if he asks me, I will be bound to let him know that I saw you here."

"And should he not ask?"

"... Well, should Albus not think to ask, then I see no reason to let your location slip. By the by, young Draco has recently taken control and Headship of the Malfoy family, and has called a meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow. Why, I do not know, but I should warn you that if Baron Potter should choose to attend, it would be wise to be wary. I would suggest leaving with a portkey. It is only a minor meeting, so Albus will not personally be in attendance, but he will certainly be waiting for you to leave. I do not know why he is so interested in where or how you spend your break, but I feel it neccessary as Head of Slytherin to warn you on this matter."

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"I had not realized that my status was common knowledge..?"

"It is not. But if one knows where to look, they can find many things that are not common knowledge."

"Ah... and it would be quite rude not to support dear Draco in front of the Wizengamot."

"I see we understand each other, Potter."

Snape turned and stalked away, robes billowing ominously. One day, Harry would work up the nerve to ask how he managed that little trick. He'd tried, and never got it to work. Maybe it was because his robes were specially tailored? Or maybe there was a charm on them? He took another sip and considered the matter that Snape had brought up, slipping out of 'politics' mode. He had known that their little subterfuge with the vial couldn't last forever.

Good enough. And sooner or later he would have had to start getting his feet wet with the politicians anyway. The whole Baron thing. He would have preferred to wait until he could collect a larger amount of blackmail material, but for now, he'd have to subtly make do with what little he'd been able to acquire through overly-chatty young relatives. As it turned out, nobody noticed a snake if it hid properly, and the undead spiders could be charmed to record conversations they overheard. Granted, most were supremely uninteresting, but sometimes you'd strike gold. For example, Quirrel seemed to be possesed by something. He completely lost the stammer when he was alone, and would begin talking in two seperate voices. One of which would lapse into snake language now and again.

That would probably be his opponent in this little race to the rock. But that could wait until they were back at Hogwarts. In any case, for example, Cedric Diggory had mentioned to one of his friends, in confidence of course, a very embarrasing story involving his father, alcohol, and a male prostitute. The friend had reciprocated with a story of his father, alcohol, and his favorite guard dog. You'd think at least that some of these people would make sure that they were in a secure area before before opening their big mouths.

Ah, but then he wouldn't be anywhere near so prepared for the Wizengamot. He smirked lightly and drained the rest of his glass of wine, then tossed it to the side, knowing full well that one of the House-elves would catch it before it hit the ground. He was proven correct as it disappeared in mid-flight.

Whispers started again, as apparently the older witches and wizards had completely written off the possibility of inhuman aid, and were now attributing the cup's dissappearance to his own power. Not one to correct their assumptions, as long as they were in his favor, he strode to a nearby table and began sitting. A chair appeared out of nowhere, courtesy of the House-elves that simply would not let a guest embarass himself like that without cause, and a set of dinnerware appeared before him on the table. The whispers increased in frequency, and he couldn't help but smirk.

xxx

"Well, it looks like Harry's having fun."

Ranma nodded.

"By the time we're done here, he's gonna have them all convinced that he's the reincarnation of Merlin or something."

"Which could be a good thing."

"It could also be a bad one. You remember Nerima?"

"Oh yeah..."

"Maybe I'm wrong, but out of my experience, being well known as the 'top dog' usually ends up being a bad thing. Because, you see, everyone else who wants to be 'top dog' will make you their number one target. And, sooner or later, they'll get you. Granted, I still plan on getting them back..."

"And putting them through the eternal fires of torment and agony. Then bringing their corpses back to life so you can do it all over again. I know. You've only said it once a week since we got here."

Ranma shrugged, but didn't bother to look ashamed or abashed.

"I've got lots of time to plan it out. It'll be years before I've collected enough information on interdimensional magics to even consider putting my plans into action."

"By the way... This is Draco's ball, right? So where is he?"

"He's... huh..."

Now that they thought about it, not one person in the throng looked anything like Draco. Well, except Narcissa, anyway, and she was coordinating the throng. There were Notts, Parkinsons, Zabini's, Greengrasses, Bulstrodes, Crabbes, Goyles and more, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. And Harry had apparently had one too many cups of wine, because he was having altogether too much fun.

The interesting thing about the Levitation charm that they taught in first year was that, once cast on an object, it only required a minor flexing of will to move it about. So, theoretically, one could have dozens of items floating about onesself at any given time. That was how the great hall had all those candles floating in it at Hogwarts. Harry, however, was going a little overboard.

Bottles of wine and crystal glasses were floating all around him, along with dinnerware, cutlery, and napkins. A turkey and a ham were attacking each other with steak knives, slicing bits off each other and flipping them onto plates floating nearby. The whispers were breaking out into full-blown murmurs now. They sighed and stepped forward, each clapping a hand on one of his shoulders with just enough force to let him know that they were there, but not enough that, in his drunken state, he would go for his knife.

"I think it's time we left."

"It's long past your bedtime."

Harry shrugged and rose. Against all logic, now that he was drunk, he was as graceful and seemed as dangerous as a mountain lion. Odd, when he was usually somewhat clumsy and looked just about as dangerous as any other eleven year old with a stick. That is to say, not at all. Both of them immediately made plans to experiment as to whether or not the boy had any potential with Suiken. It wouldn't be unheard of, and would work wonders in pushing forward his level with the martial arts.

The only problem would be surviving his undead mother once she realized that they'd purposely turned her only son into a lush.

xxx

"Sho... Whadda we do now? Ooh, I know! Let'sh do shome more of that kung fu shtuff you like so much!"

"One, it's a bit late for that."

"And two, you only want to spar because, as drunk as you are, you can spend the whole time groping us and pretend it's all accidental."

"... Sho?"

"You haven't even considered the fact that there are other females here, more amenable to male attention?"

Harry blinked slowly. Then his eyes widened and he snapped his fingers. Then he bolted. Again, surprisingly, he was much faster and more agile than when he was sober. They lost him in seconds and Herb turned to Ranma in disgust.

"Great. You just had to point it out. You do realize that if he loses his virginity because you couldn't keep ahold of him while drunk, he's gonna be pissed?"

"So? I didn't see you hanging too tightly to him either."

"He was drunk. He could have turned and vomited on me. Do you have any idea how hard dragonscale is to clean?"

Meanwhile...

"Hiii Pfil!"

Pfil's head slowly rose and one eye cracked blearily open. Harry was standing in the stable door, ignoring the grumbling, soft whinnies of the horses (Because what is a stable without horses?), as he beamed at her, smiling widely and staggering slightly. Pfil took a moment to wonder what he might be doing here at this time of night... and blushed.

"Er... M-master...?"

"Pfil." he said, seriously. "I want..."

He paused, and she found herself unconsciously leaning forward.

"A HUG! Will you give me a hug? Pleashe?"

She finally noticed the slight slur to his voice and the distinctive scent of alcohol lingering about him. Oh. Right... that ball thing. She sighed and held out her arms.

Harry crashed forward like a tidal wave, knocking the wind out of her momentarily as his arms locked around her midriff like a vise. Her face began slowly turning blue.

"C-cant... breathe... gasp..."

Harry didn't appear to hear her, but his arms loosened a fraction of an inch. Pfil took a deep breath, then realized that that left the side of her breast pressed up to his cheek and expelled the air in a wheeze as her face went red again. She compromised by taking shallow breaths until she decided what to say.

Long before she thought of anything, Harry stepped back and raised a finger.

"Now I want..." He paused. "I forgets. What did I want? I wansh... a pony ride!"

"There are horses... right... there..."

Crap. He was doing that. His lower lip was out and trembling, his eyes were wide and watery. She sighed.

"Fine. Just a minute..."

"Yay! Pony ride!"

It was actually pretty nice outside, Pfil found. The full moon was hanging overhead, reminding them that Mint was chained up in a cage in the basement for the night. There was a thin, cool mist rising. The stars were shining like thousands of little gemstones. Harry was loudly singing dirty limericks about sodomy and bestiality... Okay, so maybe that last one wasn't so nice.

"BUT A HEDGSHOG C'N NEEVA BE BUGG- Eh? Wassat over dere?"

Pfil blinked and turned.

"Uh... That, next to the lake? I don't know. Looks kind of like a stag, but..."

They both leaned forward. Then their eyes widened.

"Oh... oh. Wow."

"I am suddenly horrifyingly sober. And horrified."

"Who knew your mom was into that sort of thing? And that Mrs. Clause suit looks painted on."

"Back to the house. I'm going to find something alcoholic and see about... wait a minute, if I remember right..."

Harry started rummaging around in his robes. Pfil just continued staring. It was like a train wreck... you just couldn't look away. Harry grunted as he tugged a bottle of wine out of his pocket.

"I knew they wouldn't notice if just one bottle went missing."

There was a pop and fizzing sound as Harry yanked the cork. In the distance, the stag's back arched, and it turned back into James as he collapsed to the side. One leg appeared to have separated from his body.

"Lets see... enough so that I won't remember any of the last five minutes... what the hell."

Chug, chug, chug, chug. Burp.

"Wowser... I can feelsh my brainsh shellsh dyingsh."

"... Do you have any of that left?"

"Shure doesh!"

xxx

Ugh... pain... blinding, stabbing, agonizing pain. Like a trillion white hot drill bits augering their way through his skull and into his brain. His tongue felt rough and dry like sandpaper and his hair was wet. His clothes were... hmm. He patted himself down to confirm, not bothering yet to open his eyes.

Yes... he was wearing that pink sundress. He choked off a scream, knowing that it would only worsen his headache, as his hands traveled north and found something on his chest that had absolutely no right to be there. He opened his eyes, revealing, if one was of an artistic bent, two pits of darkness lined with trails of blood. He was laying at the base of a tree in the orchard, Pfil only a few feet beside him and wearing the straw hat that went with the dress. That gave him pause. He didn't remember anything past Ranma and Herb ushering him gently out of the ball last night. Well... there was one thing. Sort of. He couldn't actually remember, but he recalled running across a... scene of ultimate horror?

Much as he tried, he couldn't recall anything else about the scene except just how horrified he'd been about it. And... a half-rotten stag zombie?

He shook his head. Must have come across one of Ranma's 'experiments' then. Like the time she'd fused the corpses of a squid and tarantula, then engorged them. Then it had broken the binding spells, at the size of a large horse. The incident still haunted his nightmares.

Still, he also couldn't remember doing anything to warrant their special brand of punishment last night either. That left him pondering the disturbing possibility that he'd put this thing on willingly, and of his own volition. And while he was stone dead drunk as well, so with any luck it wouldn't count.

His hand shot up to catch a pear before it impacted with the side of his head.

"Breakfast for you, young master, as you could not be awakened to join at the table."

"... Thank you Tara. Ah... I don't suppose you have any idea about what I might have done... last night?"

The dryad giggled and sank into the tree behind her.

"... Well that doesn't bode well at all. Pfil. Pfil... Wake up Pfil."

"Mrgg... hn... oh. Oh. Oh dear mother of god, that hurts. It's like a thousand angry dwarves are trapped in my skull and trying to tunnel their way out."

"Hangover. Just a second..." He sliced the pear in half. "Here. Eat this, and then we can see about finding a potion or something to fix that. And... I don't suppose you remember anything about last night...?"

Pfil snorted and began giggling hysterically as a sweatrop swiftly grew on the back of his head.

"Okaaay..." He mumbled. "That really doesn't bode well. At all."

"It's... snicker... probably best that you don't remember, master. I think you would be mortified."

"... Note to self. In future, moderation with the booze. Wait... I get the feeling that I've forgotten... The Wizengamot meeting! Crap!"

He darted for the house, Pfil following slowly behind. Maybe they could make a Portkey? Yeah... his parents had been buried with their wands. And just because they were dead, that didn't mean that they couldn't use magic. That would work.

xxx

The Wizengamot waiting room was very large, with plush, comfortable chairs and tasty snacks and beverages set on the tables. After all, the people sitting on the Wizengamot were mainly some of the most powerful, and old, wizards and witches of the age. They were simply used to being pandered to.

And this was only when they were waiting for a minor session of the wizengamot. When something major came up, requiring all of the more senior members to be present, it got really magnificent. The waiting room would expand even further, the walls would suddenly gleam with embossed runes of silver and gold, and carved jewels, there would be musicians in the corner playing violin music, and house elves scurrying about with plates of wine, eclairs and fancy side dishes, and boxes of expensive cigars.

But this was just a minor meeting, of the mid- to lower-level members of the Wizengamot, so they had to make do. But it looked like almost everyone was here, including the young, new head that had called them in the first place, so...

The door swung open, revealing one more addition to the throng. A short addition, with messy black hair, wide green eyes, and a lightning bolt scar, dressed rather conservatively. For a muggle, anyway. To the wizards, the black Armani suit was an outrageously liberal fashion statement.

He cocked his head slightly to the side and smiled.

"Am I... late?"

He was instantly swarmed by smiling, affable, middle aged wizards determined to plant this new player firmly in their political camp.

"Diggory's the name. Amos Diggory. And let me say that it is indeed a pleasure, young mister Potter, to welcome you to your first session of the Wizengamot."

Harry laughed, playing himself up to be just as friendly and affable as everyone else, even though he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Please, call me Baron. And I assure you, Amos, the pleasure is all mine. By the by, Froderic sends his regards."

The wizard shaking his hand froze, going pale and greenish.

"F... Fro... deric?"

Harry nodded once, his small smile never shifting, but something in his eyes gleamed. The Diggory clan head staggered back, horrified. Froderic. He knew. He knew the Diggory head's most secret shame, that he had thought none else knew of. He had to make sure this was kept quiet. Just... just keep quiet and don't do anything to cross him. Maybe later see about how he had learned that little tidbit of information... no, can't do that. He just staggered back, still pale, and resolved not to interfere in the young Potter... in the BARON Potter's business.

This scene repeated itself many times over, a witch or wizard would introduce themselves to Harry, Harry would smile and generally act the chivalrous young man, but would drop an innocent little comment that would cause the person introducing themselves to pale and stagger backwards. Within fifteen minutes, everyone was giving the young Baron a wide berth, and seemed incredibly nervous about simply being in the same room as him.

Draco couldn't help but be impressed. His classmate had instantly claimed power over almost everyone in the room without seeming to, and with no less than a few words. With a sudden, blinding flash of insight, he realized that this was what it truly meant to be Slytherin. Vaguely, he had to wonder how half-wits like Crabbe, Goyle, and Bulstrode had gotten into the house at all.

The clock on the wall hit noon, and the door to the courtroom creaked slowly open. With a smirk and wink from Harry that reassured him far more than it had any right to, Draco strode into the courtroom and took his place at the podium, while the rest took their place in the semicircular stands. Dark aligned families on one side, Light on the other, just as it had always been. And Harry planting himself in one of the many empty chairs in between. Theodore Nott Sr., one of the few people that Harry hadn't had blackmail material on, clanked a gavel.

"This session of the Wizengamot, called by Draco Ignatius Malfoy, Head of clan Malfoy, will now come to order. Speak your piece, Malfoy."

Draco took a deep breath to calm his nerves before opening his mouth. He only had one shot at this.

xxx

It was quiet pandaemonium in the stands. The motion that the young Malfoy Head had brought up... it was ludicrous! Certainly the young, very young Head's reasoning was flawed. Allow females to inherit, to stand as heads of the family? It had never been done in Britain! It would never be done in Britain, if these venerable wizards had anything to say about it!

Then Harry had stood and there had suddenly been a lot of nervous sweating amongst the 'venerable wizards'.

"I second this motion. Ever since I entered the wizarding world for the first time, I have been fascinated by the rich and historic culture, and have engrossed myself in many tomes of history. And I have noticed... that many families have gone extinct in the past century. Whether through the actions of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and his followers, or the more recent Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters, or a simple combination of ill luck and coincidence, the amount of pureblooded wizarding families has decreased to a mere quarter of what it used to be. A terrible tragedy, to be sure. And yet... If witches were able to claim Headship of their family, many previously extinct families could be reawakened, and families on the brink of death could be rescued. Take the Bones family, for instance. The only two remaining members being Head Auror Amelia Bones and her niece Susan. Unless one of them weds, and their husband accepts taking the Bones surname, their family will die out in another generation. This motion would easily counteract that."

Nott coughed and banged his gavel.

"The motion has been seconded. All those in favor?"

Harry's grin suddenly widened and turned malicious. Nervous sweating increased and, one by one, hands raised. After all, it was a case of tradition versus personal motivation, and they were sure the long dead, ancestral, Male Heads of their respective families would understand. Nott sprouted an impressive glower as he counted hands.

"All those against the motion?"

Nott raised his own hand, and was joined by a few scattered others that Harry didn't have in his pocket. Yet. It was nowhere near enough to overturn the motion.

"Very well. The revision to the law, now allowing females to become the Heads of their respective families and sit at the Wizengamot has been voted upon and approved."

Most of the wizards shrugged. They had been opposed to the idea to begin with, but now that the motion had been passed, they didn't seem to realize what a huge change in society as a whole it would make. Idiots.

"We now open the board for new motions... Yes, Baron?"

"I would like to bring up the matter of the Colloseum..."

Oh, yes. The Daily Prophet was going to have a field day with this. Especially since most of the voters were still dazed, nervous, and malleable to his whims and the others were likely to have voted the way he wanted anyway.

xxx

He was right. The motion had passed unanimously, and the Daily Prophet had immediately snapped up on the news, shunting the less important new rights for women to a minor article in favor of printing such headlines as 'COLLOSEUM TO REOPEN? A UNANIMOUS 'AYE'!' 'MINISTRY GIVES ITS APPROVAL FOR DEATHMATCHES?' and 'WILL THE COLLOSEUM BE USED FOR MAGICAL DUELS?'.

Dumbledore was not pleased.

He'd checked several times and was assured that the locator beacons had never left Hawaii... and yet the Prophet had made note in their interviews about 'Baron Potter's Impassioned speeches', although notably there had been no interviews with this Baron Potter himself.

The problem with powerful wizards such as Dumbledore was simply that, as they were more powerful and 'wiser' than anyone else, they tended to believe that they were always right. Therefore, Dumbledore never considered that the tracking spells he'd placed on the wands of the 'Emerald trio' as some had begun to call them had been discovered, much less the possibility that they might have actually been removed.

Consider it a rather large blind spot.

So, since the beacons showed that Harry was in Hawaii, obviously Harry was in Hawaii. This 'Baron Potter' character was obviously an imposter, and no doubt a truly dark wizard indeed, if he was beginning legal proceedings to have that abomination of an arena of death reopened, convincing speeches about the nature of humanity and how nice it would be for evil wizards to have a place to legally practice their dark magics aside. The fact that they would be putting their own lives on the line to practice that magic was ignored by the venerable headmaster. And he wasn't even honest about his allegiances, subtly proclaiming himself 'neutral' by where he'd chosen to sit. Nuetral, of all things.

It was impossible. The Potter family had been completely light aligned since their founding, and the last family that had claimed to be completely neutral had been killed off during the war with Voldemort. He appreciated neutrality even less that people outright refusing to serve his whims. You were either with him or against him... there was no middle ground.

So who was this 'Baron Potter' then? He'd already ascertained that it obviously could not be young Harry, so just who was it that had stolen his identity? With proper application of Polyjuice and a few other specialized potions, almost anyone could become so very identical to the boy that only the most comprehensive of testing rituals could reveal the real one from the fake.

This was a worrying matter. Albus considered for a moment the possibility of instructing young Harry on politics and bringing him to the wizengamot whenever it was called, before brushing off the idea. Too many variables... and his plans concerning the boy were still shattered with his unexpected placement in Slytherin house. They would be long in being replaced, it seemed. No, he had a better idea.

There were always some unscrupulous hit-wizards and bounty hunters around that would dance to the tune of gold. He would purchase himself the loyalties of a few, and then wait for this identity thief to show his face at the wizengamot again. Nobody would notice his 'disappearance'. All they would know would be that young Harry had stopped attending sessions of the Wizengamot. And with any luck, he never would attend.

After all, it wasn't in Dumbledore's plans.

xxx

Winter break was almost over. This was the last day of the trio's freedom from school. In the morning, they'd head to the station... for now, they had to decide what to bring back to school with them.

"The dresses stay here." Harry said flatly.

The school books were definite. As were the weapons. Guns and knives mainly, but Ranma had made some simple bombs too. She would have gone with blocks of C4, but the detonators wouldn't work in Hogwart's halls. Plastic spheres filled with gunpowder and a fuse would still work, as there was no electricity required. The blast might not be quite as large, but given that the reactions of your average wizard having something tossed at him would be to catch it and inspect it closely, it would be large enough.

Idiot wizards. If someone tossed anything with a fuse at you, common sense would be to throw it away, preferably out a window, as fast as you could. Or at least to put out the fuse.

Herb still abstained from carrying weapons around as, from a certain view, she actually was a living weapon. Instead, she used the space to carry more books and arcane equipment, along with a large amount of candy.

It was fun to watch kids jump through hoops for a chocolate frog. And every so often, they would find something useful. Combine that with the fact that rather than realizing they were just toying with them for their own amusement, the bribed kids had cemented positive images of them in their heads and were more than happy to 'run errands', it was well worth the cost of a little candy.

Zombie-James had flat out insisted that Harry carry a sack of 'pranking supplies' with him. He also suggested that they look into finding a special map that he'd made in his school days. Zombie-Lily applied a frying pan to his skull when he suggested they 'target Snivellus, for old times sake'. He spent the next hour looking for it, as it had gone out the open window.

The faeries had insisted on coming along, out of a combination of the facts that they were small enough to keep hidden within the school, intelligent enough that when they spied on people, they would only let them know about things that they thought were important, and the fact that if they stayed behind, the Fae would be more than happy to ensure their 'dissappearance'.

A huge feast was prepared that night, and the undead parents made portkeys for them in the morning while Ranma shattered the glass of the vial containing the homing potion with the spells she'd woven into its creation. Within minutes, the remaining gloop would evaporate and disperse, completely destroying the enchantments bound in it. They were hoping that this would be construed as someone noticing the tracking charms they were carrying and removing them. Sure they would be reapplied at Hogwarts, but they could be removed again after they left.

A few of the gladiators and slaves got up early to see them off alongside the zombies. Others didn't bother, as they had better things to do. Or simply hadn't woken up yet. Although one was making very certain that nobody was nearby to spy upon her before she withdrew a crystal ball from a hidden pocket.

The drow butler set it on an iron stand and it began to glow before a face appeared within it.

"So, daughter... you've finally found time to contact your dear, beloved mother. Make your report."

xxx

A.N.

Alright, they're going back to school! And I've begun to weave some threads of plot back into this venture... ;;... It's painful...