The disclaimer is in the first chapter. I will like to acknowledge that Barchoke is a borrow, from both Robst and Old Crow. I don't own anything but the plot.

One more chapter, thank you, Higher Power.

A big hug and kiss to my home team of Cheerleaders, my Mom, and Son.

A big hug and dedication to Noppoh, because, she's been curious since day one about this crazy fic.

To Marc the Unruly all my best, I know this chapter was a dozy, thanks for your support.

To Slytherinsal hugs and kisses, she said she favored Kreacher and I don't find anything wrong with that.

To the ones who favored the fic and the followers, this is the second biggest Angst chapter, but I promise this is the last, before the end. Again thanks for your support.

To the haters, anonymous, malicious guest (ghost) reviewers, well, I stop feeding the trolls for some time now.

This Story is rated M 18+ Mature Language and themes.

To the rest, please read and review. Enjoy,

Madie080802.

Chapter 10. The bitter medicine of Balance.

20 January 2009. Potter Manor. Unplottable. London England. 9 am.

Urgent Message from Gringotts.

"Master?"

"Yes, Kreacher."

"There is an urgent letter from Gringotts."

"It's that so? Very well, let me take a look."

Harry takes the parchment and after a minute he crumbles the note, he raises his head and says to Kreacher.

"We are going to Gringotts. I have an appointment with Account Manager Barchoke at 10 am today. He says he has valuable information about the nature of my dangerous obliviation."

"Right, now stand still master and let the elf do his work… you're almost out of that phase 'the starved elf' appearance one, and, by Merlin! You looked quite pathetic in your teens…"

"Kreacher, thanks to you, I now eat like Vernon, Dudley and Ron combined. So yes, you're a great nanny, I'm just wondering if maybe I don't have a Tapeworm?"

"Yes, well, I'm sure you are not carrying such a burden master. I will, however, start adding into your meals a new regime of potions, preventive medicine is best. The Scion of the Potter-Black house must look impeccable and with a powerful presence, always. Now, on the subject of your hair? Well, let's be honest, on that you're screwed, unless..."

Kreacher made a gesture and Harry's mane was tied in a ponytail, which made the lord exclaim.

"Hurry up Kreacher and stop fussing over me, you're worse than my former mother in law… and she was an expert on henpecking."

20 January 2009. Gringotts, London UK branch. Meeting room 3. 10 am.

A message reached the inside of a dome office. The note stated that the illustrious young lord was waiting for access. The account manager looked around, and nodded, everything was in place, white marble walls and all around, decorated with a monochromatic Art Nouveau theme.

Behind an onyx desk, a very respectable goblin in finely tailored clothes, awaited as a man entered said office.

The Goblin manager for the Potter-Black fortune regarded the human magical, and greeted him: "Ah, Lord Potter-Black, good morning and thank you for answering our call so fast".

The young man raised his eyes and nodded and as though they were, in fact, old friends, the man replied warmly, and respectfully: "Barchoke, good morning to you too. Yes, I received your letter, it was the most unusual nature of your message that motivated my rush in meeting you here. Could you explain, why do you fear I had a dangerous obliviation applied?"

Senior accounts manager Barchoke smirked, shrugging at the informality of the young man's approach.

Any other human magical, replying in such a manner, would have created animosity from a member of a proud a race as the goblins. However, the young lord was considered a good client, and because his etiquette lessons had been improving, he let the informality stand.

It was no secret to the Goblin nation that much of his formative education was missing, no thanks to being raised by a bunch of uncouth non-magical baboons.

Close to five months ago, the young savior of the wizarding world was for all purposes a savage, in the ways of etiquette, of both magical and other sentient races.

Still, to the date five months ago, he emerged to the world a changed man. Mature, and with an array of capacities that had the goblins thanking the heavens for the miracle of a newborn Harry James Potter-Black.

Gone was the boy-who-lived. Instead, this new lord turned out to be quite pragmatic, helpful, very good at keeping his finances. He was wise to use Gringotts for acquiring his complete credentials as a muggle healer for children, and a better understanding of training in combat.

Barchoke smiled because of one other thing. His face looks, and persona was to the rest of magical Britain, unknown. The new Lord Potter-Black was quite secretive, the goblin race did not ask, and the young lord did not tell. A good policy for the goblins.

The account manager believed that Lord Potter-Black had his suspicions about the beginning of his transformation period, and of the moment in which he started his personal training. But Potter-Black never shared his thoughts.

The respectable goblin believed he had stumbled upon a key mystery of young Harry's disappearance. So, with a dossier in hand, the goblin pushed aside his client's mishaps on etiquette and instead said to the young Lord: "Yes, I believe this obliviation took place within the last year, but I want you to bear with me a moment and let me ask you this: What do you recall of Hermione Jean Granger?"

The man looked at a folder and a series of pictures begin displaying. Wizarding pictures of a woman that seems familiar, but just like a mirage that doesn't crystalize, the memory faded. He then answered: "The last thing I remember about Hermione? Seriously? Well, she survived the war and everybody had their happy ending."

He grabbed a picture, then questioned back: "She's in Sydney? Why does she look so different, and why is she identified as Jane Le Grange? Who the hell is this Jane?"

Harry James Potter-Black steps closer to his host. He points at the faces in the next image, "She has babies? Wait, and they, the babies are mine? I, uh, I mean hers and mine?"

Barchoke nods, and sighs. He adds:

"Yes, let's see if we can clear the current information at hand." Barchoke brought out a dossier and pointed at a chair: "Won't you please take a seat?"

"Right, thank you Barchoke." Harry sits down and waits while a magical array of projections starts. After that, Barchoke continues with his presentation.

"You're welcome. Now, according to this, last week in Gringotts Sydney, Australia's branch, two vaults were opened as part of a trust fund for a couple of sets of triplets. After every step followed, it turned out to be a family transaction.

"Now, the first set of magical triplets are registered as children of Monica and Wendell Wilkins, their names Emma Heloise, Daniel James, and Ella Hermione Wilkins. What caught our interest was that these children along with Jane and her triplets all share common ancestry with Rowena Ravenclaw. Yet she made no claims, nor did the Wilkins seem attracted to the connection to the famous witch. Then the second vault was created in the name of Jane Le Grange and her triplets. Again, we were surprised to find a famous lineage. You see, these triplets, they have a line of descent from Godric Gryffindor, the Peverell's, Potter and Black, while on the maternal side, it is Rowena Ravenclaw and Granger's."

Harry James Potter-Black was gobsmacked, however, looking at the little girl in front of him, smiling with deep green eyes and raven hair, he sobered up and asked: "Pardon me?"

Barchoke nodded and said: "Yes, Lord Potter-Black, the children of Jean Le Grange, Jordan Orión, Robert Tiberius and Lilith Le Grange are true heirs of the Potter-Black fortune. The question here is, were you aware of your children's birth and location?"

A great sense of urgency seemed to wrap the recipient of the news since he got up and paced as he answered the question: "No, but I would like a copy of your investigation, and photos, if possible Barchoke. And I'll make arrangements to contact their mother and clear this mystery once and for all,"

Harry looked at the little girl and the boys it made sense, these were his children and they were in Sydney. He had a family.

Tears rolled over his cheeks, he had a family.

"Lord Potter-Black, are you alright?".

He looked at Hermione. "Oh, Merlin! She is beautiful." He nodded to himself and quietly answered the worried goblin. "Don't mind my tears Barchoke, this is the most bizarre and happy day in my life. God, she is gorgeous! And she had my babies? I'm a dad!. Ron was right, that bastard was right! Hermione is brilliant and scary. Now, I need to get the complete story, and avoid being hit, or glued by my balls to a wall in the process."

The goblin thought that the young lord had literally lost his mind, so he inquired: "My Lord?"

The urgency seemed to be pressing his actions, so Harry just nodded and said to this question: "Later Barchoke… I'll sit down again and tell you that story later…For now, I have to go".

Just as the door closed, Barchoke told the empty chair: "Crazy and full of dumb luck, just like his ancestors, proud heir to the Gryffindor lunacy… it's in his blood."

Outside the bank, a house elf is waiting. He felt the energy around him shift, his master is delighted and just like a wave, the crowd around him parts. People want to acknowledge his face, stride, and clothes, but cannot.

Harry James Potter-Black, looks so different than a year ago. Today he stands powerful, confident, 6'4" ft tall, fifteen stone, a light golden hue on his skin. The glasses are gone, and instead, he greets the world with captivating eyes of green. His raven hair reaches his shoulder blades, he's cleanly shaved, built like an athlete and a warrior. Yet his magnetic facial features are defined by the combined female beauty of Dorea Black and Lily Evans and in his bright smile the charisma of the Potter-Black mystique. Dressed in expensive dark robes of Italian design, the man is alluring and blissfully for him, unknown. He closed the distance between the elf and himself in a greeting:

"Kreacher".

"Master, good news then?"

"The best. Come on, we have a couple of errands to complete before we travel abroad,"

"Very well,"

Potter manor,

Kreacher is putting away the dossier and takes a closer look at the pictures, Harry stops and takes one of the printed images displaying three small smiling faces. The magical servant asked:

"Master, are these the heirs?"

"Indeed."

"What will happen to Hermione?"

"I don't know, but what I do know is that I have a long overdue talk with her. Get everything ready and let me know when the Portkey is due to activate, will you?"

"Yes master, if I may say so... she is quite dangerous and attractive."

"Oh Kreacher, you really have no idea… I guess that is the crux of the matter, truly we were all clueless of her power and reach."

"Yes, by the way, the Portkey is ready."

"Good, I have a date with Jane".

Flamel Manor. Wellington, New Zealand. 23 January 2009.

The curves that Destiny lands on all mortals.

Romi entered the kitchen and informed the ageless couple, having tea and fruit:

"Harry Potter is requesting an audience through his house-elf, Kreacher."

"Tell him that we will grant the audience and take him to the office, please Romi," said Nicholas.

Harry was waiting in the study when he noticed a couple enter and the temperature immediately dropped to below zero. He did not react, if not to politely ask: "Good afternoon, perhaps I'm wrong, but is this the house of the Flamels, the famous Alchemist couple?"

"Good afternoon, yes, you're correct. This is indeed the residence of the Flamels. This is my wife Perenelle and I am Nicholas, and you are?"

"I apologize, my name is Harry Potter, and yes the reason I'm here is that I'm having trouble getting in touch with an old school friend of mine. You see, she has changed her name to Jane Le Grange. I was wondering if you have her magical address or her physical address since I was referred to your home by one of the Gnomes. They are under the impression that you two are her mentors?"

Perenelle rose and uncovered the painting of the little girl called 'Joanne'. Harry smiled at the beautiful image, and then realized the girl was a doppelgänger of Hermione except for her hair, hers was in deep burgundy, just like Mrs. Flamel.

"We are sorry to be the bearer of this news. But, Hermione does not remember you, that is, conceiving with you, her children," replied Perenelle.

This time Harry did react, his complexion became pale and confused, he asked: "Pardon me?"

"Yes, like my wife said, Jane doesn't remember you. She received a powerful obliviation just after the children were born."

"But why? How? Who did this? How was this possible?" Harry asked in rapid succession.

"Why are you interested in her?" questioned Perenelle.

"She is the mother of my children, she wears my engagement ring. The ring of the house of Potter-Black… the goblins... "

Perenelle interjected intrigued, and summarized. "Ah, yes, the goblins, a magical species with a specialty for digging… besides gossiping… are masters of grudges and brutal when charging those beings indebted to them… yes, what about them?"

"Madame I don't' know if you have an issue with the goblins, that is not the point. What is important is that she is unaware of me? When my children were born I wasn't told..."

Again, Missus Flamel interrupted his speech. "Why? I mean, you were absent while she was pregnant, did you leave a note, or an address to contact you?" Perenelle sighed, "No, you did not,"

Harry, rushed his reply, "I was obliviated by the Fates,"

Pernelle nodded and said, "Well, so was she, I'm sure you realize now, that balance for a soulbond, does affect both, Male and Female, don't you?"

"So the Fates decided to mess with me...again?" asked Harry,

Perenelle blinked and quietly inquire, "Hermione told us, Mr. Potter, in confidence after the war came to a close, that she had expressed to you her desire to search for her parents since they were amnesic and living in Australia?"

Harry blushed at the question.

Nicholas asked in a quiet tone of voice. "You were there when James Arthur passed away, you knew of her divorce? I mean, you could tell, couldn't you? She needed help, a friend,"

Perenelle added, "No matter, Hermione was still able to gather some money, and move out, and start all over again. While you? well, you were broken-hearted after the outcome of your own marriage, and had to heal, in the privacy of your island in the Caribbean? Now that she has heirs, of course, your heirs, now she is valuable, is that right? Did we get the complete picture?"

Harry, now displaying a full blush on his face, answered. "I asked for forgiveness, on my knees, before anything happened between us,"

Perenelle though was far from done. "Yes, you did, and then you impregnated her, gave her the engagement ring and left her again to fend for herself..."

Harry tried to defend himself, quietly, "She was in danger, it would have been fatal… my magic was too wild and I was unprepared."

Perenelle nodded and then added, "Yes, that's true, but like the song says, oops! you did it again. Now let us see, there was a broom, a rat, a competition, a Yule celebration, do you see a pattern here? Why do you hurt and hurt and hurt Hermione? or Jane? whichever suits your fancy,"

Nicholas asked while curling an eyebrow, "perhaps you think she is made of rubber? That she has no feelings? Or perhaps that she is a saint or just stupid? And what is worse, you actually expect her to keep on giving you this endless love, in monumental quantities, always?"

Perenelle Flamel's voice became deceivingly calm as she repeated. "Her memory was taken by The Moirai. She doesn't remember conception or the engagement to you. To her, the pregnancy was a decision she took, when she visited a sperm bank, after all, she got tired of waiting for Mr. Right. And, besides, she is a successful Dentist and Potions Mistress, she can provide for her young ones. So forget her Mr. Potter, and let other demigods court her. Since history has proven, time and time again, you're an expert at ignoring her, why stop now?"

Harry was livid at this point and inquired, in a dangerously low tone of voice: "I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

Perenelle continued, not minding if the demigod was starting to lose his composure. "Perhaps you think that you are the only one who has ever lost her? Do you have an idea of how difficult it was for us, to know that she went through a war by your side, and then once the conflict was done, she was tossed aside like yesterday's garbage, by you, the number one hero of the British Magical War? The Harry Potter? Do you?"

"I apologize, but yes, how were you affected? What was your role to Hermione and me? You both were an obscure quote from our first year at Hogwarts and a decoy Philosopher's stone?"

Perenelle seemed to gather energy because around her it all became dark. Her hair seemed to gain life as it moved in strands in a serpentine motion, and furious, in a glacier tone she added: "Who do you think you're talking to?"

Nicholas took hold of Perenelle's hand and she lowered her head, while tears rolled on her cheeks. Her husband filled the silence, just as he was looking at the portrait of 'Joanne,'

"Centuries ago, she was born, while you, Asklepios, in your divine essence were not. Her spirit begged The Fates to be born. She wanted to be born, to be here and heal this world and the Moirai agreed and granted her wish. She was born to us, our little Epione/Joanne Flamel. She was our light in those dark times, always so sweet, stubborn, and oh so loyal, and she died in a stupid accident. The masonry of a new church failed and she was taken from us. She was just a child of no more than twelve years of age, and with her departure, our souls broke!"

Nicholas took a deep breath and a bit later added in more even tone of voice. "A word of caution Mr. Potter, before you pass judgment on us and you are pushed further away from your current goal. If you can, do listen closely to our suggestion, will you?"

Perenelle added in a sad tone of voice. "The Fates rarely do things without a reason, consider this moment as a test. Hercules was not immediately recognized as a hero, he had to complete twelve labors to be recognized as one. Nicholas and I believe that this obstacle, or Obliviation, has a similar purpose. You have the chance, by the will of the Fates, to become the man she needs. To make her forget the rank bastard you were to her, whether intentionally or not. She doesn't deserve the pain or the memory of your betrayal, so deserve her!"

Nicholas nodded and added. "Bury the Harry Potter persona and evolve into a better man. Oh, and one more thing... Stop thinking that you are the only one that has issues with the curves that Destiny lands on all of us."

Perenelle wept in despair, Nicholas embraced her and he too shed tears. In a quiet tone, he added to his resigned guest. "Hermione is ignorant of who we are as well, and every one of her tears breaks our heart. We, well, we love her so much, and sometimes we wonder if we offended the Fates in some way. So our little Joanne was taken instead, as punishment, for our offense?"

Perenelle added while drying her tears. "But she came back. She was born again, we found her, and she too found us. So we fight Mr. Potter, we keep on fighting to be part of her life and gain her love, and trust. I tell you, it isn't easy, trying not to hold her and participate in her life more. But we are stubborn in our goals too, we have to be,"

Nicholas said, "If, however, you have doubts, consider this. There are other demigods that will court her, and she will be happy again. This time, we are certain of it."

To which Harry replied with contained anger: "I did not go through a separation and Hell in order to lose her now!"

Perenelle retorted: "Well then you know what to do, and our doors are open when you're ready to ask for her hand in marriage. I don't care if she has already accepted, or her mundane parents have provided their blessings, we loved her first! Before any of you."

Nicholas Flamel added, in a quiet and final note. "That's the only request we have for you, Mr. Potter. Now, you came here for a reason, here's a card of the Wilkins Medical Center. They are hiring, you will find Jane there. Good luck and good day to you sir."

It was then that Harry was magically transported to Black Keep and after a moment he said to Kreacher.

"It's official, I'm an Idiot,"

To which Kreacher inquired, "And what, am I supposed to disagree with you?"

-oo0oo-