Like Juggling Snowballs through Hell
On Mount Olympus, one young Fate looked down on Humanity and shuddered. Bad things were afoot in Britain, and situations which had been merely dangerous were now bordering on cataclysmic. Horrible forces were at work; forces that could alter the destinies of millions.
"Thanatos, come quickly!" Harmonia called. "This is serious."
As Thanatos approached, Harmonia gave the more senior Fate a description of what she'd seen. Thanatos gasped and gave the evil eye; not something one generally sees from minor Deities on Mount Olympus, but this was not an ordinary situation.
"Sister, how did this come to pass?" She asked.
"He was left alone, given too little, and then far too much. He is too powerful, his followers are too many; they will destroy it all!"
"How could You - how could We let this happen?" Thanatos cried. "Sister, convene the Fates. This must be stopped!"
"But Sister," Harmonia replied, "wasn't it Our meddling in their affairs that brought this, this unholy thing into being?"
"Harmonia, I am afraid You are right. But after what I have seen, I weep for Humanity."
What Harmonia had seen, and what had shaken the foundation of Olympus itself, was that Harry Potter was bored. Bored, bored, bored. It had been a week since the Mistress Selection ceremony. Tonks had left to visit her mother, so nookie was out of the question. Lessons were over for the day, as Moody couldn't find anything else to teach Harry that Harry's own fevered mind couldn't come up with on its own. Or, as Moody put it "Th' lad is powerful, creative, rich, and fucked-up enough that if I were the Dark Tosser, I'd find a different line of work." It was only 3pm, so there was no sense getting dressed for supper. He had jumped in the shower after his lessons with Moody, but as he was busy with a little wand-polishing, he got a very firm bit of psychic pushback from his soul-bonded wife who apparently didn't appreciate that kind of stimulation while sitting at a tea salon with her mother and her father's sisters. So that was out of the question.
It goes without saying that Gryffindor Sound had a Quidditch pitch on the grounds, so Harry thought it might be a good idea to get a game going. He poked his head first inside of Ron's room, but he and Dean had the door locked, and Harry thought better of knocking. Ginny's door was open, and she was usually up for a bit of flying, but when he poked his head in, she and Hermione looked to be quite content; Ginny was strumming a guitar languidly whilst Hermione read from a large book of poetry by Edna St. Vincent Millay. Remus was pants on a broom, and Moody was already gone, and asking Draco would mean having to spend time with Draco, so that left Harry all by himself. Bored. Rich, powerful, and bored.
"Tilly!" Harry called out around 4, after having retreated to his palatial Master Suite.
"Yes, your Harryness?" she answered. Harry had trained his elves well.
"Tilly, I'm going to need your help here. I've conjured 17 pencils, tossed them at the ceiling, and they're all stuck there. Can you get them down for me?"
"I can, your Harryness," Tilly said, "but this is the fourth time this afternoon, and you can certainly get them down yourself by wrinkling your nose. Are you bored, your Harryness?"
"Christ on a stick, you know what, Tilly?" Harry asked, "You may be onto something there. Bored. I'm fucking bored. Any idea what I can do about it?""
"Well, if I may be so bold, your Harryness, you lot did roll in here a week and a half ago, fill up a chalkboard full of ideas about what to do, and you've done fuck-all about it. All I've seen is you having wild, furniture-smashing sex with Her Tonksyness, Miss Hermione and Miss Ginny plotting how to overthrow the patriarchy and organize a wizarding Lilith Fair, and Mr Ron and Mr Dean dressing up in identical outfits, dropping E and hitting the clubs every night. Not a shitload of dark wizard ass being kicked in here, sir."
"I thought I told you I don't like being called that, Tilly."
"Of course, your Harryness. My apologies. If that's all, I'll just be going."
"Yeah, we're good."
"Well, that was a good three minutes," Harry thought to himself, banishing the pencils from the ceiling to Dudley's pillow in Surrey. "And Tilly was right, wasn't she? We have done fuck-all about either Dumbledore or Voldemort."
Suddenly, as he thought the Dark Lord's nom de guerre, a cold breeze entered the room...
"Darth Teddy! Ooh, that's it. Yeah. Who's your Dark Lord? Come on, baby. Who's your Dark - POTTER!"
"Jesus, dude. I can't help it. Believe me; I don't need to be seeing any of this."
"Well, it's not like I can help it either, you insolent whelp. That damned hor- er, I mean... Darth Teddy! Get back here! Your discipline isn't over yet."
Harry used every bit of psychic strength he could muster to break the connection. His whore. That was the clue he'd been missing. Now, Mouldyshorts had plenty of female minions, and he could have been referring to any of them - but only one that he wouldn't have simply offed for this kind of nuisance.
"Tilly!" Harry called. Tilly popped into the room with a wry smirk on her face.
"Yes, your Harryness?"
"Please assemble everyone in the War Room. Oh, and see if you can find Neville Longbottom, too."
"Let me guess," the elf answered sarcastically. "Luna, too?"
"And while you're at it, find Luna Lovegood."
"They're here already, your Harryness. In the War Room, waiting for you, along with everyone else."
Harry looked at his house elf quizzically. "How the crap did you do that?" he asked.
"I told you: don't fuck with a house elf. We're good."
"Right. Well, I best be off. Wait, I ought to be dressed for this. Where are my...?"
"Your cape with the Potter-Black crest is hung up behind the door. Your signet ring is in the nightstand drawer next to Her Tonksyness's, er, toys. And Draco has been polishing your shoes all day - apparently it takes longer when you have to buff it with your own hair, who knew?"
"You're awesome, Tilly," Harry replied, awestruck.
"Yes, I'm aware of that, too. Now go on, get out of here. Have some fun, and kick some Dork Lord arse for me, too, Your Harryness."
Harry dressed quickly, and made his way to Gryffindor Sound's sumptuous War Room to greet his guests. Luna sat comfortably next to Hermione and Ginny (who were quite comfortably lounging all over each other). Neville, on the other hand, was sitting in the middle of a settee, flanked by two young women Harry vaguely recognized, but whose names were escaping him. One was pouring a measure of Elderflower wine into a large, ornately jewel-encrusted golden goblet Neville held, and the other was holding an ermine-trimmed cloak and gold walking stick. Neither was wearing enough that one could call them 'dressed'. Neville, too, had changed. He looked to have grown two inches since Harry had seen him last. His face was squarer, as if the baby fat had been chiseled off, his shoulders broader, and he'd gained about two stone in pure muscle. When Harry entered the room, Neville stood to greet him, handing his goblet to the woman pouring the wine, and his wide-brimmed top hat to the woman holding his cloak and cane.
"Harry, my man," Neville said, embracing his long-time friend and dorm-mate.
"Neville!" Harry replied. "You look good. What the hell happened to you? And who are your friends?"
"Damnedest thing," Neville explained. "Little over a week ago, I'm lying in bed, just thinking about plants - you know - and I fall asleep, and I wake up with the sheets a mess and I look like this. Gran tells me that Dumbledore had put a block on my magic, and something powerful must have happened to break that block. Anyway, so now I'm Lord Longbottom, I have two minions - Harry, this is Su Li and Tracy Davis - and I'm living large. What about you? This is hardly a room under the stairs, mate."
"Yeah, that's a long story. We'll catch up. But tonight, we have business! Wait - isn't Davis a Slytherin?"
"Yeah," Neville said, "but she's also a half-blood. She's good. And besides, she'd hear everything anyway. The three of us are Soul Bonded."
Harry put his palm to his face, shaking his head. "Oh lord, not you, too? Anyway, that reminds me."
Harry screwed his face up in concentration
"Tonks, you there?"
"Sure am, your Hunkyness," she replied through their connection.
"Good, 'cause you're going to want to see this. Hermione, are you comfortable?" Harry said out-loud.
"I am, Harry, thank you for asking," she replied.
"You know, I believe you, but I think you can be more comfortable. Clyde, can you bring Draco in here, please?"
Clyde entered the war room, riding on top of Draco, who was crawling on his hands and knees in a French Maid hat and apron, chaps, a bit and bridle in his mouth, a plug with a horse-hair tail in an appropriate place for such a device, and a teeny-tiny cowboy hat on his head.
"Excellent," Harry said, as Clyde rode his steed into the middle of the assembly. "How has he been learning his new job?"
"He's a quick learner, Your Harryness," Clyde answered, "but he's not the attentive lover I'd hoped to make him by now. There's still time to break him, though."
"Thank you, Clyde. Now, Hermione, would you like to put your feet up?"
"Actually, Harry, I think I would," Hermione replied, kicking off her shoes and waiting for Clyde to ride Draco over to where Hermione and Ginny were sitting. She ground her toes into Draco's bare back when he arrived, as Clyde popped away.
"Ah, that's the stuff. Thank you, Harry."
"Of course. Now, if we're all settled, here's why I've called you. I've found out what's triggering my connection to the Dark Tosser, and we're going after her. The key is Bellatrix Lestrange!"
There was an audible gasp, and then there was silence. Finally, Remus spoke up.
"How, exactly, do you know that Bellatrix is the key to your connection, Harry?"
"He told me himself, Moony," Harry answered. "He was busy doing unspeakable things to one of his stuffed animals - I know, me too, and I have to see it! - and apparently I'm cock-blocking him just like he's doing to me, and he let it slip that it was 'That damned whore,' and then he was all 'nope, didn't say nothin'' and I figured that if it was one of his regular minions, he'd've just up and offed her by now, so it has to be Lestrange."
"Harry, that's - that's actually pretty logical," Hermione said. "I mean, I've no idea how Bellatrix would have caused this connection, but Christ, none of this crap that's happened in the last two weeks has made any sense anyway."
"Right. So we're settled then. Now, how do we go about it?"