Okay, since someone complained about things going too well for Harry, I would like to point out that for the moment Harry is staying UNDER the radar. When Voldemort shows up things are going to get dicey. Right now Harry's just trying to headaches...like the one he would get from the League of Heroes once it gets out that he's the new Overlord.
All in all, Hogsmeade was actually boring once you got over the fact you could go to the village and escape...shudder...homework for a few hours. Compared to China, America, hell, even London, it was nothing more than a quaint village with little going for it. The closest thing to a hot spot was the Three Broomsticks, and that was because of the possibility of alcohol.
Naturally this meant Harry had to literally keep a firm hand on the modified baby leash he had Flitwick charm up and put on the warlock, along with remove Richard's arms until they got back. It wouldn't stop him, but it would limit the amount of damage he could readily do.
Harry had already pushed his luck by spelling the entire student population from saying anything. The teachers wouldn't readily care unless they had to, as first year had so quickly proved...plus the fact they hadn't bothered to bring up the fact that Richard was there to the Ministry last year.
So long as Harry kept up the appearance that he was keeping Richard to a minimum casualty, the teachers would overlook certain facts.
Like the fact Harry was obviously emulating Richard far too much to be healthy (just without the curse) or that perhaps there was a reason he was able to handle Richard's brand of morbid insanity so easily. Richard moped until they reached the store, where he perked up in eagerness.
He had heard good things about this place, specifically that they could fill almost any order for rare plants...for a price. The irony was that while potions, animals, and spells were heavily restricted, plants rarely were. If you were able to harvest the plant, then you could keep it. Only a rare few exceptions were even on the very short list...and that was because the herbologists got together to make one of an endangered list of plants.
If you were lucky to find them in the wilds, you were only allowed just enough to try and cultivate one plant, usually by harvesting a single seed or bulb.
Ironically, for all the evil deeds and mass murder sprees, Richard was widely regarded as one of the best herbologists/botanists in the world, and had successfully brought back several previously considered extinct species.
Considering he generally left said flora in the ground around the Overlord's tower to grow unsupervised, it wasn't that surprising. At most he came by every week after tea to do a little weeding. Once he was assured it would survive if left unattended, he generally forgot about it until he stumbled across a random entry in the Herbology magazine or Gardening subscription he had that month reminded him of the plant.
It was ironic, but Richard got most of his actual income from selling cuttings or seeds of those plants to fellow green thumbs. While those who relied primarily on their wands hated and feared him, he was a welcomed face in the annual herbology conventions.
Probably why the only people in the castle who didn't immediately fear Richard on sight outside of Harry, Luna or the twins were Professor Sprout and Neville.
While Harry was Richard's apprentice in magic, Neville was his apprentice as a fellow green thumb. Neville flourished under Richard's expert guidance, because gardening was the only nondestructive and people-friendly activity he consistently did.
Harry often wondered why none of the governments thought to simply bribe Richard with rare or unusually deadly flora to avoid causing such a mess.
Then again...wizards and logic. Two things that, strangely, rarely went hand in hand.
Purchases in hand (for Harry anyway, who was levitating the entire thing back to the castle with Richard's leash in his other hand) he walked back and nodded to Filch. Filch thought a little better of him for getting rid of the nuisance known as Myrtle, who he used to mop after at least thrice a week.
Well that and Richard didn't make nearly as much work for him as the others did. Most of the messes he made were generally cleaned up by Harry within minutes. After a quiet discussion with Filch, Harry started favoring fire spells that severed limbs, primarily because they cauterized the wound and decreased the amount of blood he'd have to clean up after classes.
As an unintended side effect, Harry's ability towards basic healing spells skyrocketed. Madam Pomphrey was seriously considering putting him into her club for those who had shown an aptitude towards healing magic. As it stood, Harry's constant practice of the basic spells had reduced the amount of students sent for actual injuries considerably. He was also becoming very proficient as a junior Obliviator, as he had a standing offer to erase the more...memorable trauma...from the students, and would just give them a summary of that day's class, along with any spells taught that day.
It was mostly the purebloods who took him up on that offer.
Hermione stared at her only real friend. Most people found her extremely abrasive once they got over the shock of her bossy personality.
"What."
"I'm offering you the chance at unlimited research potential without fear of any real censure from the Ministry, along with the largest library you will ever encounter, with no restrictions for what you can and can't read," repeated Harry.
"And what, exactly, would I have to do to get this?"
"A few things, but nothing that would grate against your personal morals."
Hermione waited patiently.
"First you would have to take a simple series of tests, but you can study up for the more advanced ones. That will get you into personalized classes and even more opportunity to show off how smart you are. After that you would have to sort and organize all the books I'll be getting once I graduate and Voldemort is dealt with. The only thing I want you to do is basically act as my personal librarian and help Professor Remus research anything you think will be of use."
"That's it?" she said in disbelief. That didn't sound hard...in fact it sounded rather appealing.
"Anything other than that would be entirely up to you."
Luna had already happily agreed to act as Overseer once the tower was fully established. The fact that such a position would lead hand-in-hand with being the Overlady and in charge of what would undoubtedly end up being a massive harem was just a nice perk.
A harem that Ginny, for all her machinations, was unlikely to be part of unless she demonstrated a useful attribute to Harry's growing empire.
He had already discreetly dominated the Slytherins the moment the more intelligent of them had recognized the relatively unused form of the Overlord gauntlet. They had researched the symbols (primarily to see if it was something useful or if Richard had made it) and once word spread among their ranks about what now was, those who had actual cunning and ambition flocked to his banner in the hopes of him sharing the wealth to the quick witted.
From those like Blaise Zabini, who's mother was a notorious black Widow, to Daphne Greengrass and Tracy Davis. It was mostly kept to those of strictly neutral families...those that would see his status as a full member of the Guild and know he wasn't one of Dumbledore's mindless pawns, like the Weasleys.
His Master was Richard, who was notorious for his disdain of Voldemort, even before the Guild became involved.
In short, Harry was an unofficial third party that was recruiting.
Considering the only other choice was A) a lying old wizard who didn't keep his promises and wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice one of his loyal members in the hopes of 'redemption' to those who didn't care about it, or B) a hypocrite who had a bad habit of torturing his own minions for some perceived slight and was defeated by a bloody infant, the choice was very clear.
Besides...Harry had Richard on his side and was being trained by him. Only an idiot of the highest caliber would choose Voldemort or Dumbledore over a rising powerhouse that so far at least understood the concept of loyalty and had yet to do anything that would dissuade people from his side. Not to mention was a parselmouth that didn't overuse the whole snake theme.
"So no harem?"
"Not unless you were interested, and once I have everything up and running you can expect some very well padded funding."
"How well padded?"
"Well Richard and I will be making a trip to Africa this year...so..."
Hermione mentally counted to five. It used to be ten, but constant exposure to Richard made recovery time from sudden migraines drop.
"You're going to commandeer the diamond mines and the like aren't you?"
Harry beamed at her. Hermione might not be the smartest witch, but what she lacked in ability to retain information, she made up for in common sense.
"Save a few villages from the bandits and warlords, buy up the rights to the mines, give the villagers a kind, friendly new lord...and they'll pay me to keep the less pleasant idiots out."
"Just be sure to get vaccinated and avoid the sick. The last thing I need to find out is to learn you accidentally contracted AIDs or something..." said Hermione in defeat.
There was little she could do to reverse the effect Richard had on Harry, but as long as he didn't drag her into his madness to far, she would look the other way. Besides, Harry was offering her a dream job, with the promise of letting her do something she would be hard pressed to find anywhere else.
Harry smiled winningly at her.
"Why Hermione, what on earth makes you think I would associate with any villagers directly? I'm more interested in setting the warlords on fire and seizing everything they own."
"So long as you aren't killing anyone that will get you arrested."
Harry beamed at her. She was still a work in progress, but she had made great strides towards being easier to live with overall.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, a moment please."
Harry paused. He was supposed to head back to the DADA classroom, but Madam Pomprhey was one the people he hesitated to piss off.
He stood still and kept his eyes forward.
"Your spellwork in healing is exemplary, and I see no reason why you couldn't move on to the intermediate books. The Mastery level books, however, will require you to take the same tests every healer takes," said the witch.
"How many can I read before I'm required to take tests."
"Advanced is the highest level before you're required to get a license."
"Considering I'm the only one who bothers to undo the damage everyone does to Richard, I might as well go as far as I can before I have to take the oaths."
If you took the healer's oath, then you were rather limited on who you could heal. And he knew for a fact Richard wasn't on that particular list of acceptable creatures to heal.
Pomprhey handed him three new books, each more difficult than the last. At best, Harry would be labeled a 'battlefield medic' in the healer circles. It meant he had the training to at least do triage, but wasn't allowed to do the more delicate work like surgery.
The first Quidditch match of the season, and it was against Hufflepuff. Draco, the idiot, had deliberately pissed off Professor Richard and demanded he go to Madam Pomphrey rather than trust Harry to do the job...and then used it as an excuse to avoid playing in the rain.
Harry barely avoided the urge to hex him to the point his excuse to avoid getting wet was legitimate. Barely. He very nearly drew the line when Draco's whining nearly had him doing the prep work for him in potions, at least until Snape correctly interpreted the look on Harry's face and told Draco he could make the potion once his injury had 'healed'.
So here Harry was, flying through rain and strong winds just to catch a ball that people only cared about because it would end the game. Honestly, he felt being a chaser or beater would be more fun...at least then he wouldn't be sitting on a cold broom just getting soaked to the bone just to find a tiny ball that he could only see thanks to the lightning strikes.
Finally, he saw the stupid thing and went flying towards it. The sooner he caught the snitch, the sooner he could get warmed up.
At least, that was the plan...
One minute he was racing towards the ball so he could get something warm to drink, the next memories of his 'relatives' slammed into him. Every moment they neglected him, every time they called him a freak or punished him for being better than Dudley, every time he was locked in that damn cupboard for something he either didn't do or because of accidental magic... it all hit him like a brick.
The only reason he didn't pass out was because thanks to the Overlord gauntlet, he was able to set them on fire in his mind's eye, while reaching for the snitch.
That was when he realized there were dementors on the pitch. Sure, their numbers had dropped like a stone since Richard taught the students how to throw fireballs and ice shards at the damn things, but for some inane reason the Minister kept replacing the ones killed.
Several flew up to Harry, sensing that he had the more 'delicious' memories to eat.
He could feel his very life being sucked away, and it pissed him off. He managed to snag the stupid ball that had him flying in the rain, shoved it in his pocket, then took a dive with his broom.
If he could get within reach of Richard, the warlock would be able to handle them while he landed. He needed to be on solid ground to make a flamethrower, otherwise the sheer power behind it might make him crash.
However the moment he saw what was waiting for him on the pitch, he knew that plan was ruined. The entire field was flooded with the damn things.
The draining was getting worse. He could feel his strength giving out on him as they dug even deeper, seeking more and more traumatic memories to feed on.
Eventually they struck gold at the memory of his mother dying to save him...and his rage overtook the weakness the dementors caused.
He reached deep into his core and pulled at his magic. Hoping for something, anything to happen that would allow him to strike back.
And his magic answered...by letting him use his animagus form without any training whatsoever, or having any idea what his animal form even was. All he would remember was the fire, the shrieks from the monsters, and the sensation of falling unconscious on the pitch as his body receded back into itself.
It wouldn't be until the next morning when he finally woke up and found what happened during the game...and to his broom.
Needless to say he was pretty damn pissed when he found out that the things had cost him a broom and nearly killed him in the process.
