A/N: Hello again everyone! Summer is progressing and I'm back with another chapter. Hope everyone in America is enjoying a wonderful Independence Day! I have to admit that I enjoy this tradition of mine of being able to post chapters on holidays, starting with New Year's.
I want to offer my continued thanks to everyone who took the time to alert, favorite, or review after my last chapter. Getting those emails is wonderful inspiration to keep up this story of mine.
Does the disclaimer even need to be said anymore? This is fanfiction, so of course I'm not trying to make any money off someone else's creation.
I don't usually like to give warnings about a chapter's content, but we're definitely stepping up with this one. This is the first chapter where it starts to really earn that 'M' rating.
Enjoy!
Chapter 21: Taking Steps
August 7, 1995
HARRY POTTER: IN HIS OWN WORDS
Part I: Early Life Until Hogwarts
Hello once more, dear readers of magical Britain's foremost magizoology publication! For this issue, we're stepping outside our usual purview and bringing you the first in a series of in-depth letters from Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Despite what other publications have claimed, these testimonials will be the only statements Harry Potter has ever given regarding his life other than the interview we published a few weeks ago. We here at The Quibbler gave you a brief taste of what his early life was like before the trial of Albus Dumbledore, but now we're going to offer you a veritable banquet of information about our hero.
In the interests of full disclosure: we need to say that we were required to print this letter verbatim with no changes.
"I guess the first bombshell comes right at the beginning: far from the claims of a specific book series, I didn't grow up in a castle, or even in a wizarding home with people who cared about me. I pieced this information together later on from conversations that I had with various people who knew my parents. Everyone knows – and how I hate that phrase – that James and Lily Potter went into hiding in the second half of 1981 at their cottage in Godric's Hollow.
What is not so well-known is that they went into hiding due to some uppity dark wizard learning the first two lines of a prophecy – made by a woman who coincidentally was hired to teach Divination at Hogwarts the very second she stopped spewing her hippogriff shite – regarding their son Harry.
Me.
Unfortunately, they chose the exact wrong person to be the Secret Keeper for their Fidelius-protected hideaway.
Why did they entrust their lives to arcane magic with a crucial flaw when Potter Manor had all manner of ancient magics, war wards, and family secrets protecting it? Only they can tell, but I have my suspicions. For years it was thought that Sirius Black, James Potter's brother in all but blood, betrayed them to the Dork Lord, but such was not actually the case. Later investigations have shown that it was in fact Peter Pettigrew who betrayed the Potters, allowing the Noseless Wanker into their cottage, resulting in my parents' brutal murders.
Most people think that I was the one who destroyed old Moldyshorts, but chew on this for just a minute: it is known that the Killing Curse never leaves a mark on its victim, say, a lightning bolt-shaped scar? – and the only people alive in the room at the time of that fateful spell were myself and He-Who-Must-Not-Need-Sunscreen – who has never testified in court as to what actually happened. In addition, since I have never given my story before, no one knows exactly what happened to give me that (in)famous scar.
No one.
After my parents' murders, the first person to show up was Rubeus Hagrid, of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had a monitoring charm on their cottage set to trigger at the release of large amounts of magic. Rather than provide them with any more defensive wards and specialized magics, he instead monitored their cottage for their deaths, then sent Hagrid to pick me up like a cake from a bakery. How could any honest reader of these events believe that Fumbledork had everyone's best interests at heart?
Sirius Black showed up moments later, and claimed his right as godfather to raise me, now that his friends had been brutally slain. Hagrid claimed some instructions from Dumbledore and sent Black after Pettigrew. You all know the confrontation that ensued, but it only recently became known that it was Pettigrew that blasted the hole in the street, killing the muggles. Black was picked up raving that he'd failed his friends again and under the Wartime Powers law, sent to Azkaban without a trial.
But I can hear you now: 'Harry is the last of the Potters, and thus inherited their entire fortune, so he must have at least known some comfort, right?'
Not bloody likely!
Our dear Headmaster, who also was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, somehow managed to get a will simply leaving everything to me declared a State Secret and sealed. Fortunately, my parents left an official copy on file with Gringotts, so I was able to access that document and get it executed after the disaster that was the Tri-Wizard Tournament.
Anyway, after Hagrid took me back to Hogwarts – and if I didn't like Hagrid as much as I do, I would have used the word 'kidnapped', and twenty-four hours without medical care of any kind later, Mumblebore himself deposited me on my only living relatives' doorstep like a parcel, on a chilly November night, without even speaking to the magic-hating family, directly violating my parents' will.
I spent the next ten years – technically nine and three-quarters years until my bid for freedom leaving from platform nine and three quarters in a beautiful symmetry that almost makes me believe in Fate – being worked worse than the most abused house elf. Forced to do all the household work from the earliest time my hands could hold the tools, I cooked for my overweight relatives and received scraps in return.
Until Hogwarts.
My first year back in magical society was full of wonder. I became the youngest seeker on a Hogwarts house Quidditch team in a century and learned the sport on the fly. Quidditch has become one my favorite releases from the stress of studying and the latest threat to my life, but even that sport has seen me in danger.
During our match against Slytherin, my broom started trying to throw me off. Luckily, my amazing girlfriend Hermione figured out what was happening. She set fire to Professor Snape's robes, but it was actually Professor Quirrell. The fire was enough to distract him, breaking the jinx.
Halloween saw the unleashing of a fully-grown mountain troll into the castle. Fumblebore himself told the students to go back to their common rooms, even sending the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs to their dormitories in the dungeons, despite being told that's where the troll was.
My now-girlfriend was missing, so I took my best mate Ron Weasley and found her crying in the girl's bathroom.
We also found the troll that had stumbled across the room, too. One wild fight with me clinging to his back and Ron taking him out with a well-timed levitation charm, and what everyone calls 'the Golden Trio' was born.
Why did it take two first-years to take out twelve feet of muscle with a brain the size of a peanut? Why wasn't the faculty there to protect us?
But then, why wasn't the faculty there to protect us from the giant Cerberus that posed the first in a series of tests?
You see, the Headmaster had hidden the Philosopher's Stone in the castle behind a series of tests seemingly designed to test me and my friends. First up: a Cerberus, and someone just happened to tell us that music puts it to sleep. A quick trip through a trapdoor and we find a Devil's Snare. My genius of a girlfriend had happened to read up about the plant and figured out the answer. Next up was a room full of flying keys and a broom. Youngest seeker in a century to the rescue, thank you very much. From there we found a life-size wizarding chessboard, primed and ready for chess aficionado Ronald Weasley to general us to the other side. The following room held another troll, already dealt with, and finally there was a logic puzzle featuring potions. My girlfriend isn't a genius for nothing. I eventually made it to the final chamber where I found Professor Quirrell trying to get the Philosopher's Stone.
Did I happen to mention he had the Dork Lord growing out the back of his head? It was either that or he picked at a zit and got the world's worst reaction.
Somehow the protections my mother's sacrifice left on me activated, and when He-Who-Shall-Remain-Dateless (I really need to expand my stock of epithets for the bastard – but more on that to come in Part II) tried to attack me, he turned to dust.
So that was my first year, done and dusted, if you will.
Hopefully you're now seeing the problem: there is no way any of that should have happened: I should have been raised by my sworn godfather, the trolls should never have gotten into the castle, to say nothing of a possessed professor, and traps designed to test a specific group of first-years should never have been set up.
When the Headmaster of Britain's only magical school plays that fast and loose with the lives of children, it makes the decision to transfer out of the country that much easier.
But more on that later. Thanks for hearing me out this far."
As we said, the above letter was printed verbatim in Harry Potter's own words.
In all actuality, his exploits even through first year need no embellishment.
The appearance of Harry's testimonial in a magazine with a small, yet growing circulation went unnoticed by the Death Eaters, none of whom ever read the paper that most of them considered a fanciful rag that focused on imaginary animals. By the time any of the Death Eaters were aware of Harry's insults to the Dark Lord, the series was over and none wanted to risk his wrath.
Albus Dumbledore wasn't so insulated. Intending to keep his finger on the pulse of the magical world as well as maintain a tie to a student of his, he kept a subscription to The Quibbler. Reading Harry's accusations had his rage burning like dragon fire. The fact that it was true was meaningless; having his plans and intentions laid out bare like this was the absolute last thing the wizarding world needed at the moment.
He needed to redouble his efforts to track down Harry and make sure he was back at Hogwarts come the first of September. Then he could renew his efforts to get the boy under his guidance.
Dumbledore called an early morning staff meeting after his delivery of The Quibbler. Staring around the table at the barely-restrained hostility, he took a breath, running over how he was going to phrase his words.
"There is a very real possibility that Harry Potter's promise to transfer his schooling out of Hogwarts and even leave Britain is not an empty threat," he began.
"Not an empty threat? What made you think that? The transfer forms and transcripts that I owled out to him and his friends?" Minerva said, eyebrows raised at the ludicrous statement.
"Now, now, Minerva. There's no need for such rudeness. The boy is merely bluffing, trying to wring concessions out of me," Dumbledore answered, keeping his voice calm to placate her.
"He has his guardian and control of the Potter inheritance. What exactly is he trying to get from you?" Pomona asked.
Giving his head of Hufflepuff House a smile that showed how little he thought she knew; he offered the explanation he felt would give the best chance of keeping the teachers on his side. "The prophecy referenced in some of the news articles about young Harry means that he still has a destiny to fulfil for magical Britain. He will soon see his responsibility and return to the castle for my tutelage."
The other staff members shared a look.
"Just be on your lookout. If you see Harry or hear where he is, he must be brought to the castle immediately. If Lord Voldemort or his Death Eaters come upon him first, it would be a disaster. I cannot emphasize this enough: if Mister Potter leaves Britain or Lord Voldemort gets his hands on him, it will doom us all. Thank you all. Severus, would you please stay behind?"
Minerva led the staff out to discuss matters further in her own office.
Turning to his potions master, Dumbledore gestured for him to move into a quiet corner. "I was told by an auror, John Dawlish, that Potter and his friends traveled muggle-style on their recent vacation."
"A clever stratagem, even for the Potter brat," Snape sneered.
"Indeed. It makes sense to me that if he really intends to flee to France that he would employ the same method once again. With the dwindling summer holidays and your deeper knowledge of the muggle world, I wanted to ask you to figure out where he would have to go for that travel."
"You want me to let you know which way of the different muggle travel styles Potter will use to go to France?" Snape asked, not truly believing what he was hearing. Driving and taking a ferry, driving through the Channel Tunnel, taking a high-speed train, flying…the myriad different ways that muggles had to move around the globe swam through his mind. "I will do my best, Headmaster."
A much different conversation was taking place in Minerva's office. "Harry's prank with the Headmaster has given me an idea, especially after all that hogwash about dooming us all," Minerva said to her colleagues, "Regardless of the reason, we all failed him. I think the best thing we can do to give Harry and his family a chance to escape is to keep the Headmaster and his Flaming Chicken club members busy."
"I like the idea, but what exactly are you proposing, Minerva?" Pomona asked.
"Well, it occurred to me that we could start reporting that we have either seen or heard of Mister Potter's presence in locations nowhere near where he actually is. If we can keep Dumbledore and his people busy, it could give Harry and his family the chance to escape."
"So, you think they're going to leave for good?" Filius asked her.
The Gryffindor House head nodded sadly. "I don't see how they won't. It's the best decision for them, between Dumbledore and Voldemort."
"It will be a real shame to lose him, but the way he's been hunted, for lack of a better word, it's the best for him. I could have done more to ensure Albus didn't leave him with those animals, either," Minerva finished, downcast at her failures.
"I think it's an excellent idea," Bathsheda Babbling chimed in.
"Me, too," Hagrid rumbled, trying to keep his voice soft enough to avoid shaking the rafters.
"Excellent. I think we should each pick a different day to go to the Headmaster with 'sightings'. We should have a plan for spreading them out to keep the watchers busy."
Even the publication of the article couldn't perk Harry up that morning.
Hermione and Susan shared a look, matched by Amelia and Mary, at his pallid complexion and the bags under his eyes. He listlessly munched his way through Dobby's wonderful breakfast, ignoring all other conversation after glancing at Luna's magazine.
When he was done, he loaded up on coffee with a huge mug and went into the study to do some more reading.
"He's been having bad dreams, I think," Hermione started off, speaking to the adults present.
Susan nodded. "I can feel the negativity and fear when he's asleep."
"Nightmares?" Amelia asked.
"No," the brunette shook her head, "I don't think it's nightmares. He'd be shouting and moaning like he did on the island. This feels different."
The career auror turned to her niece. "Has he said anything to either of you?"
Looking back down at her now empty plate, Susan shook her head, auburn locks swishing around her face. "I think he doesn't want to burden us with whatever's troubling him, or something along those lines. The silly boy doesn't understand that when we chose to be with him, we chose everything that goes along with that."
"Have you thought about sitting him down and trying to get him to open up to you?"
Hermione and Susan shared a look before the brunette turned to her. "We have, but we think you should do it. He knows us, and he trusts us, but this time it might be better for a caring adult to show him that he can accept help from other people."
Thinking it over for a minute, Amelia nodded. "That makes sense. Okay, I'll find him and get him to spill. You two be ready to help him afterward. Most boys don't like to share emotions like that. It will be especially true in the case of someone who's been abused as he has."
The girls nodded and Amelia got up to find her adopted son.
She found him, as expected, in the study. When they weren't doing anything specific, the room had become his favorite. She suspected it was the relaxing quiet of a room full of books and a crackling fireplace.
Watching her boy from the corner doorway, Amelia quickly saw how tired he really was. There were a few times his head nodded down hard before bouncing back as he caught himself. His entire posture of slumped shoulders and drooped neck gave off an almost visible aura of fatigue.
The girls were right; whatever was plaguing him at night was keeping him from getting any good rest. "Harry," she said in her quietest speaking voice, moving into the room.
He startled so badly he dropped the book in his hands and almost slipped off the sofa. "Amelia? What's going on?" Harry asked, fighting a yawn as he got back to the sofa.
"Your girlfriends sent me to figure out what was going on with you. They're worried, and quite frankly, so am I. You look like you haven't slept in days."
It was a measure of how tired he really was that when Harry tried to muster resistance to answering her statement, he couldn't. "I haven't, really."
She took a spot on the other side of the sofa, trying to avoid crowding him. "Want to tell me about it?"
"Not really. It's just a silly dream. I'll take a nap today and be right as rain," he tried.
Amelia frowned, scooting closer to him. "Harry, please don't try to tell me that anything that has you this off-kilter is just a silly dream. Something's obviously troubling you. I know we got you emancipated, but I still adopted you, and I'd like it if you thought of me as an adult you could trust. People care about you, and love you."
"I've never had anyone tell me that before," he muttered, but she heard him nonetheless.
Her heart broke again for the poor boy. To live his whole life without hearing any kind of affection was just as damaging as the physical abuse. "Well that changes now. I know we haven't known each other as long as we could have, Harry, but I have come to love you as I've gotten to know you. I wouldn't have adopted you if I hadn't.
"I know I'll never replace James and Lily, and I'm not trying to. They are your parents. I just wanted to show you that I do care about you, and I wanted to declare you as part of my family. I never got the chance to have children of my own, but if I did, I would be flattered if they turned out half as well as you have. You're a wonderful young man who shows love and care to everyone in your life, and you deserve to have that returned to you just as much."
Floored, he finally turned to look her in the eye. It hurt her heart to know that he was searching for duplicity or mockery in her gaze. She kept hers level and sincere, and after a heartbeat, he fell into her arms. Being a teenage boy still, he tried to fight off the tears that her words brought on. Amelia, knowing enough about teenage boys to know he would hide them, she cradled his head in the crook of her neck and rubbed his back. "It's okay, Harry," she soothed, "I know it's got to be hard for you. I'm here for you now and I will be in the future. That's the promise I made when I adopted you."
After a few moments to let him release his tension, she pulled back to look him in the eye. "No one would think badly of you for losing control, Harry. Especially not after the last few weeks. Your entire world has changed, top to bottom. I would be more surprised if you weren't having troubles. Now, tell me about these dreams."
So, he told. He told her about being low to the ground and slithering along like a snake. He told her about being in the Hall of Prophecies, and he told her about attacking Arthur Weasley. She said nothing, just sitting there and letting him speak.
When Harry was done, she rubbed his back once more. "That would have troubled anyone to suffer at night. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
"They don't feel like normal dreams to me, though," he said, "They feel more like…visions."
"Are they linked to your scar, perhaps?" she wondered, "Your memory showed a large snake at the graveyard, maybe that's Riddle's pet. It might even be his familiar. What if he's trying to lure you out? He can't exactly get to the prophecy himself now, can he?"
"No, you're right," Harry agreed, "That's one thing that Unspeakable Croaker told us when we heard the prophecy: only those that heard the prophecy or that the prophecy concerns can hear it. What if he's trying to trick me into going into the Hall and getting it for him?"
"I think we might be able to use that to our advantage," Amelia grinned, "But I'm still worried about your scar. We really need to get it out of your head."
"We'll figure something out. As a last resort, the goblins might be able to help. They said something about a transference ritual. I just don't remember if it applies to living hosts or not. Um, Amelia?" When she looked expectantly at him, Harry took a deep breath and continued, "How am I supposed to know if I love someone?"
"No one can answer that for anyone else, Harry," she said, keeping her voice gentle and even, "But in my experience, it means that you care enough for someone to put their needs and wants above your own. It comes pretty naturally with family members, but when you have such deep feelings for other people not related to you, I think that's what most people would call romantic love."
Harry pursed his lips. "So, if there is someone that I feel that strongly for, that I put them before myself, and want to see them happy, then I might love them?"
"I think that would be a very good starting point," Amelia smiled, knowing who he was thinking about, "But the rest of your feelings are going to be yours alone, and I can't help you figure them out."
Harry nodded, clearly deep in thought. With a deep breath he turned back to her and gave her another hug, but it was his words that took her breath away. "Thanks…mum."
Blinking her eyes against the tears threatening to overflow their banks, Amelia swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. "You're welcome, son," she eventually said, "Now, we need to get you some rest. Tomorrow's a big day: Umbridge's trial is finally on the Wizengamot schedule."
"That's tomorrow?"
"I just heard about it today," Amelia nodded, "Fudge finally ran out of excuses to delay."
The smile came back to Harry's face. "Good. We should be there."
"We will be."
August 8, 1995
The Wizengamot chamber was positively abuzz with excitement. After all, it wasn't every day that a senior Ministry official was on trial for attempted murder. Using dementors as the weapon was just icing on the cake. The visitor's gallery was packed full, with aurors already having to escort several people out of the aisles. The press gallery was even more packed, with reporters from wizarding publications from all over the world forcing their way in, returning to the aisles after the aurors showed up. Eventually Amelia's staff gave up trying to get them out, knowing the reporters would return no matter what they did.
Sirius led them into the Ministry that morning, taking Harry, Hermione and Susan to the central auror office where they would wait as witnesses to be called for the trial.
"And you're clear on what's going to happen?" he asked the teens. Mike and Mary couldn't join them at this part of a magical trial, and with Amelia and Nymphadora being DMLE employees, they couldn't be seen interacting with witnesses, so the duty of escorting the teenagers fell to him, not that he minded in the slightest.
"Yes, godfather," Harry answered with a cheeky grin, "We answer all questions to the best of our knowledge and as truthfully as possible. Answer no questions we're not asked, and keep Susan's involvement out as much as possible since we don't want anyone to know who has Dumbledore's wand."
Hermione gave him a slap to the shoulder. "Behave, Harry. We've got a chance to put away the woman who ordered my parents' murders. We can't screw this up."
"It would take a lot to do that, Hermione. From what Kingsley told Tonks, it's an open and shut case," Sirius explained, "They have her cold on the evidence. Just breathe and be yourselves."
It was, Harry decided, rather like any of the trials he'd seen in the snippets of television he'd seen. They had prosecution and defense solicitors who called witnesses and tried to disprove each other's statements, but ultimately it boiled down to one making arguments the other tried to dispute.
He nudged Hermione, who in turn nudged Susan, when he saw Dumbledore in the gallery. The old man looked furious at not being allowed to conduct the trial, casting hate-filled glares at Chief Witch Griselda Marchbanks.
"Wonder what the old goat is up to," he murmured.
"My guess is to cause you trouble, Hermione whispered back, "I wouldn't be surprised if he went far enough to side with Umbridge, claiming how dangerous it is outside the castle, and demanding you go to live there full-time."
"He couldn't do that, could he?"
"It's possible he doesn't even know about the adoption. That may come as a rude shock to him."
Harry's only response was an evil grin.
The prosecuting solicitor, an auror named Rufus Scrimgeour, focused his attention on Harry when they got to witnesses, preferring testimony from the Boy-Who-Lived ahead of everyone else. "Now, Mister Potter, would you mind telling the court exactly what you saw the morning in question?"
Harry launched into his story, telling everyone how they'd just returned from a vacation to find Bones Manor in ashes when his girlfriend Hermione got a bad feeling about her parents. His godfather and now-adoptive mother had apparated them to Hermione's home to find the telltale indicators of dementors.
"And how exactly is it that you know what dementors are like?" Scrimgeour asked.
"During my third year at Hogwarts, the Minister decided it would be a good idea to station them around a school full of children who couldn't defend themselves. One of them even came onto the Express before we even got there."
"And you know how to defend yourself against dementors?"
"Back then I didn't, but after I reacted badly to the one on the Express, I received after-hours training in the Patronus charm. When I was on the island with my friends, I offered to teach them how to cast the charm."
"Objection!" Emeric Roper, the defense solicitor shouted, surging to his feet, "It's a known fact that no child below seventh year can cast that charm. It takes an immense amount of power and skill."
"I dislike being called a child," Harry growled, focusing his eyes on the stuffed robes, "If I am allowed to use my wand, I will cast my Patronus right here and now."
Scrimgeour protested, but Roper was so confident in his position that he scoffed. "No child can cast such a spell. Not even a pureblood child could. If you insist on embarrassing yourself in front of the Wizengamot, who am I to stop you?"
He looked at Sirius, who shrugged, and got to his feet. "Please understand I am only casting the Patronus and no other spell."
The aurors kept a careful watch on him as he drew his wand, called the memory of joining into the relationship with Susan and Hermione into his mind, and cast. The Wizengamot chamber was full of people gasping in surprise at Prongs' sheer size and power as the ghostly stag trotted around the room. He stood at least eight feet tall, not including the antlers, and moved around the chamber with a regal posture.
There was no real danger, but the gasps turned to chuckles as Prongs made his way over to the pink-clad toad chained to the accused's chair, leaned his head down, and focused his stare at the hateful woman.
Harry himself had a laugh as his spirit defender made its way back to his position and paused for a scratch behind his ears as he dissipated away.
"There you go," Harry said to the stunned Roper, "A fourth-year Gryffindor can cast a corporeal Patronus with the right memory to guide. My friends can all cast theirs, too."
"Re – regardless of that, you still cast the charm in a muggle area, in full sight of muggles. Can you tell the court how you escaped the Underage Magic laws?" Roper stammered, trying to regain some kind of equilibrium.
"Oh, that was easy. The owl with the notice arrived minutes after I cast it. Responsible adults present figured that with the time and distance involved, it had to have left the Ministry before I even cast the charm to arrive when it did. Amelia Bones, my adoptive mother, went to the DMLE and started an investigation right away."
"Are you aware that your Patronus destroyed those dementors? Magical beings that were just following their orders, and you destroyed them!"
"They were in the process of administering the Kiss to my girlfriend's parents. What was I supposed to do, let them die?"
"They were just muggles, you stupid little half-blood," Umbridge hissed, "You're only allowed to use magic to defend yourself, not mindless animals!"
The outburst cost her dearly, if the mutterings from the Wizengamot chamber and Roper's bulging eyes were any indication. He stuttered out that he was done with his questions and allowed Harry to go back to his seat. Roper rejoined his client at the defense table, whispering angrily at the woman.
Scrimgeour, smelling blood in the water as clearly as any shark, struck. He called Umbridge to the stand to testify under Veritaserum. Before he could have the potion administered, she was shouting at him, Marchbanks, and anyone else within earshot. "I am Madam Dolores Umbridge! I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! What I do is not to be judged by people such as yourselves! You should be thankful I'm not ordering the arrest of every single person here. Release me this instant!"
"No one is above the law, Madam Umbridge," Marchbanks reminded her, "If Minister Fudge had authorized such actions, he would be in the chair next to you. Aurors: administer the Veritaserum."
When the potion took effect, the pink toad admitted to calling the dementors away from Azkaban and setting them on the known residence of Harry Potter's best friend in order to force the boy to stop his claims that Voldemort had returned.
After that, the case was a mere formality. Dolores Umbridge was found guilty of attempted murder, muggle-baiting, and misuse of Ministry resources, along with a host of other, smaller charges. When the Wizengamot started debating length of stay in Azkaban, Harry got to his feet. "Chief Witch Marchbanks," he called.
"Mister Potter? Your testimony is concluded," the elderly witch answered him.
"Yes, ma'am, but I would like to make a statement before sentence is decided, if I may."
"It's most irregular, but as you were the principal victim, I will allow it. Please take the floor."
Winking at his girlfriends, Harry went back down to the floor.
"Honored members of the Wizengamot: please listen to my words. This hateful woman was prepared to murder two innocents to get at me, and would have called it a victory had Hermione herself been killed, all because of her hatred of me.
"The recent breakout of longtime Azkaban residents proves the prison has lost its purpose as a deterrent. I call upon this body to administer a more lasting punishment. Umbridge was willing to use dementors to murder at least three people, claiming her position within the Ministry held her above the very laws that govern our existence; administering her the dementor's kiss is the only appropriate punishment."
When the uproar came, it was much more muted than Harry expected. Framing the punishment in light of the Azkaban escape clearly had many of the Wizengamot members thinking about his words. He took his seat back in the gallery, looking over at Hermione. "What did Dumbledore do?"
"He looked like Christmas had come early," Susan whispered from his other side.
"Good," Harry said, rubbing his fingers together.
The Wizengamot apparently took Harry's request to heart. When Chief Witch Marchbanks called for a vote on the form of punishment: red sparks for the dementor and blue sparks for Azkaban. Harry counted just four people voting for the dementor. Marchbanks officially sentenced her to the rest of her natural life in prison.
Dolores paused her outrage long enough to fix Harry with a smug look at his failed effort to have her executed. It lost something of its power due to her dingy prison robes, but it was there nonetheless.
When the woman finally left the chamber for the last time, Dumbledore stood and called for the Chief Warlock's attention before any new business could begin. "Ah, yes, Griselda. Thank you. I may temporarily not be a member of this august body, but I have a point that must be raised."
"Yes, Mister Dumbledore?"
Everyone could see the lack of title hit the old man where it hurt, but he soldiered on. "As we have seen through these proceedings, not only is there a great deal of danger in the world, children such as Mister Potter need to be under a positive adult influence. Casting such advanced magic in a muggle area, in full view of muggles, shows a degree of irresponsibility that is simply staggering. Not only that, to turn around and attempt to have the person responsible for a failed attack murdered under the guise of a pseudo-legal action shows that Mister Potter is out of control. I think it behooves this body to revisit Mister Potter's guardianship status and return it to myself."
Marchbanks blinked at the man. "Are you seriously attempting to charge Mister Potter with attempted murder for wishing that the person responsible for trying to kill his girlfriend's parents was punished more severely?"
"One could read it thusly, Griselda, but I think the more relevant action would be to remove Mister Potter's guardianship and return it to me, so that I can more appropriately guide him to acting as a responsible member of our society. I am aware of who Mister Potter's guardian is, and if this is the kind of behavior that they tolerate, then I really must insist this body step in and make some changes."
Harry had to physically restrain Hermione and Susan from moving to Dumbledore's position. From the level and intensity of the growls, they were a hair's breadth away from strangling him with his own beard.
Chief Witch Marchbanks took a look over at Harry. "Mister Potter, is it your wish that your guardianship status be known?"
Harry shot Amelia a quick glance. "I don't see why not, Chief Witch. I'm not afraid of the truth."
After sending a couple of low-level aurors to get the appropriate file, Marchbanks sat back and watched the two wizards. Dumbledore looked supremely smug, as one who was used to getting his own way. Harry's face betrayed a high level of anger, but he was keeping a tight rein on his emotions. His eyes were fixed on the old man, but didn't show any kind of fear that his move would succeed.
Her musings were interrupted by the return of the aurors, who passed her Potter's file. She opened it, eager herself to learn what it said. Perusing the documents, her face broke into a huge smile. "Well, according to this file, Harry Potter's legal guardian passed from Sirius Black to Amelia Bones. Dumbledore, you claimed to be his guardian and wanted that returned to you, but this file shows you were never made the boy's guardian legally. What were you just saying about usurpation?"
The old man glared back at the current occupant of his old seat, but before he could do more than mutter angrily, Marchbanks continued. "And then we have a brand-new form, filed just a few days ago. Harry Potter's current guardian is now his adoptive mother, Amelia Bones."
Bedlam.
Wizengamot members, the press, and the visitors were all clamoring, but Harry simply stood, a rock amidst the turbulence, staring at Dumbledore with a triumphant smirk.
The old man was rooted the spot. Eyes huge, he looked back at the ruination of all his plans.
"As you know, or should I say, as you should know, Mister Dumbledore, an adoption, legally and magically filed, cannot be overturned so easily. Your motion is denied. Mister Potter," Marchbanks said, turning to Harry, "You will face no charges or repercussions for your actions. I personally find it a matter of the highest honor that you chose to defend your girlfriend's parents when they themselves could not. You are to be congratulated for your deed."
"Thank you, Chief Warlock Marchbanks," Harry replied, emphasizing the man's title to twist Dumbledore's tail just a bit more.
"And as for you, Mister Dumbledore, I find myself deeply disturbed at the level of fixation you seem to have regarding Mister Potter. The efforts you've expended in trying to claim guardianship are approaching an obsession, and I will urge the DMLE to investigate just what kind of environment you're creating at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore turned red in anger, but was powerless to retort. Harry, Hermione, and Susan ignored him as they headed out of the chambers.
August 10, 1995
Harry and Susan peeked in on Hermione in the study. Sure enough, she'd passed out, faceplanting onto an open book in front of her. She'd fallen asleep in the Black library each of the past three nights , trying to research anything she could find on soul magic to get the horcrux out of Harry's head.
Harry shared a look of fond exasperation with the redhead before moving into the library. He gently slid the book out from underneath Hermione's face. Susan marked the page with a small card as Harry gently moved Hermione's chair back.
"Is she always like this?" Susan whispered.
Harry suppressed a chuckle, not wanting to wake the girl. "You should see her during exams," he whispered back, picking Hermione up in a bridal carry to move her to her bedroom.
Susan returned his grin and gently smoothed Hermione's hair out of her eyes. Unfortunately, the tender gesture was still enough to wake her.
"Wha? Whazz'goin on?" she mumbled.
The redhead grimaced at waking her girlfriend up. Leaning over to where Hermione rested in Harry's arms, she placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Shh. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up."
"You fell asleep on the books again, 'Mione," Harry grinned, keeping his voice soft.
Hermione pouted, wrinkling her nose. "Sorry. Jush' wanted to find out how to save you," she murmured, fighting off a yawn.
Harry's heart swelled at the obvious care in her voice, and a warmth suffused his entire being. He knew she liked him, knew she was attracted to him; her actions on the island and since were testimony to that, but hearing it from her own mouth made it all more real somehow.
Susan saw him almost stumble at her words and grinned at his naiveite. "Harry, I know we don't always say it out loud, but you have to know how important you are to both of us. We want to get that disgusting thing out of your head so we can live the life we want. Losing a few hours of sleep here or there to research isn't important at all to Hermione when it means we can take care of you."
Vaguely aware that he was doing another goldfish impression, Harry tried to force sound out of his mouth, but Hermione beat him to it. "She's right, Harry. It's not a burden at all."
"Well, neither are you. I don't mind carrying you back to bed," he said, kissing her cheek as they reached her room, "Why don't you change into your pajamas and then we'll tuck you in?"
Bestowing a grateful smile on the other two, Hermione went into her room. She paused halfway into the door and looked back, biting her bottom lip as she considered something. "You two can come in while I change, if you want," she grinned at their gobsmacked faces.
Harry turned to look at Susan. "I don't – I shouldn't. Amelia taught me about being respectful. I should wait out here."
Susan gave him a wry look. "Do you remember that scrap of fabric and string she wore on the beach? I guarantee you're not going to see any more than that in there now. As a matter of fact, I'm going to head in there myself and enjoy the view," she finished as a gleam of excitement flashed in her eyes.
Permission from one girlfriend to ogle while the other was eager to get an eyeful? "Never let it be said that Harry Potter is a fool," he said, following the redheaded into Hermione's room.
It was worth it. Hermione had turned the lights to a very low level, giving them enough light to see where the furniture was and not much else. When he and Susan made their way into the room, the brunette regarded them for a heartbeat before she turned her back to them. He opened his mouth to ask why she was acting like she didn't want them in there at all when Susan's hand on his forearm forestalled his words.
His breath stilled when she lifted her shirt over her head and unsnapped her bra. When Hermione turned to toss the garments into the hamper, he couldn't draw his eyes from the suddenly exposed side of her breasts. She turned over her shoulder and gave first him and then Susan a sultry wink.
Before Harry or Susan could even draw a breath, Hermione turned back away from them, reaching to unzip her skirt. Harry's pulse quickened in time to each bit of creamy flesh revealed as the garment fell away. When it dropped to the floor and he saw the little bit of string between her cheeks that passed for her underwear, his mouth went dry and he lost the ability to form polysyllabic words. When she bent over to reach for a nightshirt on her bed, Harry swore he was going to have a heart attack.
But what a way to go, he thought to himself.
Susan wasn't much better off. "Merlin! That's even skimpier than the suit you wore on the island," she breathed, her voice much raspier than usual.
Hermione turned around and gave them a grin as she dropped her large nightshirt down, breaking their view and thus their stares. "Yeah, it is, but I've started liking to wear this style. Sometimes it feels like I have nothing on at all," she winked.
He gulped. "That…must be nice," he answered with a wince at how lame it sounded.
The girls giggled, though Susan was as flushed as he felt. The curse of a pale complexion.
Hermione ended up deciding they were going to spend the night together once more. "Please? You've been looking more and more tired since our trip to Paris – since the hedge maze – and I want to be there for you if you have more bad dreams," she pleaded, eyes large and suspiciously shiny.
Harry's resistance to such potent weaponry wasn't strong enough even on a good day, let alone after a series of nights with less than ideal sleep and the memory of barely-there panties still burned into his brain. "Okay, 'Mione. You twisted my arm."
Susan chuckled, pushing past him and sliding into bed with Hermione. "She had to work really hard for it, too," she grinned, giving him a tender kiss, "I just don't have my pajamas."
"Nor me either," Harry realized.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You two! Aren't you a witch and wizard? Harry can sleep in his boxers if he wants, and Susan," she turned to their girlfriend, "Just transfigure your shirt into a sleep shirt."
Harry and Susan shared a look before shrugging. With a bare moment of hesitance, Harry pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto a chair. He unbuttoned his jeans and slid them off, sneaking glances that confirmed the girls were watching his every move. It may have been the dim light in the room, but he was almost positive that Susan licked her lips while Hermione's gaze was fixed somewhere south of his eyes.
"Yes, well," Susan said with a certain longing in her voice, "I guess that leaves me."
Harry joined Hermione on the bed, sitting side by side with clasped hands and eagerness in their eyes. "Do please go on, beautiful," Harry grinned.
Even in the dim light of the room, he could see the darkening of her face that indicated her blush was back. The blood started rushing in his ears at the intimacy of the moment. Susan looked fearful, but swallowed hard and nodded, standing in front of them. The girl overcame her nerves and started moving her hips to a rhythm only she could hear, but they all could feel.
Button by button, flick by flick, her shirt parted company from her body with a delicious slowness that savored the moment, instead of rushing through. Both he and Hermione took deep, appreciative breaths when Susan's shirt finally fell to the floor, showing off her magnificently well-developed chest. "Sweet Merlin," Hermione whispered, too in awe of the expanse of flesh before her to break the moment.
Harry nodded his agreement. "The Veela mascots at the Quidditch World Cup weren't as beautiful as either of you."
Hermione grabbed his face with both hands and gave him a passionate open-mouthed kiss, before forcibly turning his head for Susan to bend over and give him a similar reward. "Good boy, Harry," Hermione murmured.
Giving them a wry smile, Susan, facing them, bent at the waist to slip her socks over her heels. The dual whimpers from in front of her when her breasts hung down made her grin.
She straightened up, spun on her heels, and repeated the procedure for her jeans. The whimpers got louder as she slid the garment slowly backwards over her arse, revealing her aquamarine underwear.
"I had no idea boy shorts could be so sexy," Hermione murmured, staring at the redhead's arse, "We need to go shopping again."
Harry almost broke the moment when he chuckled. "There is nothing 'boy' about those shorts."
The girls froze for a moment before having to smother giggles that threatened to escape their control. "Merlin, Harry," Susan said, transfiguring her regular shirt into a sleep shirt. She slipped first one, then another arm into her sleeves before some very interesting movements distracted him. When her right arm emerged once more, it held her bra.
"What strange magic is that?"
"It's a skill all girls know, Harry," Hermione answered, reaching out and pushing his jaw closed with an audible click, "Now, let's all get into bed."
She slid over first, flipping back the light sheet to allow them to join her. Harry moved into the middle with Susan on his other side.
"Tell me a bedtime story," Hermione murmured into his chest from her customary position, wrapped in his right arm. When he answered, the deep rumbles in his chest sounded next to her left ear, but his voice made its way to her right.
"I don't know any bedtime stories. The Dursleys weren't exactly big on the usual childhood experience for me."
Without dwelling on his miserable childhood once more, Hermione huffed a small sigh. "M'kay. Susan, will you tell me a bedtime story?"
Susan sighed, but smiled at the girl before launching into a common wizarding bedtime story for children about three brothers and items that each wanted from Death himself. By the time she finished, Hermione was three-quarters asleep and Harry was out cold.
"Thanks, Sus," the brunette slurred as sleep claimed her, "Luff you both…" she trailed off into a snore, falling asleep on their mutual boyfriend.
Susan stared at her in shock for a few moments before the warmth of joy spread through her entire being. "I love you too, Hermione. You as well, Harry. Someday I'll tell you when I'm awake."
When awareness came to him in the morning, Harry Potter fully believed he was about to die.
They had shifted positions in the night. His eyes opened to what would quite possibly be his new Patronus memory: his face was cradled in the valley between Susan's ample breasts with his mouth dangerously close to the nipple poking through her shirt. The redhead obviously subconsciously approved of his placement as her hand was holding his head in place.
It was the location of his hands that ensured he was going to die: his left hand was caught at the juncture of her legs while his right was solidly gripping and massaging her arse. Her shirt had ridden up during her dream, and the only thing keeping his hand from directly rubbing her core was the thin, damp fabric of her panties. In sleep, Susan seemed to approve, as she was clenching her thighs together and rubbing them back and forth on his hand. Her soft moans were what woke him from the bliss of his dream.
Hermione wasn't left out of the lasciviousness, either. She was curled up behind him, but when he tried to shift his hips back from Susan's center, Harry quickly realized that Hermione had a gentle, but firm grip on 'little Harry' through his boxers. He tried to shift back, but her grip tightened in her sleep and she murmured 'mine' into his neck. The movement of her hand must have sparked something else in her dream because she started rubbing up and down.
Trapped, Harry knew he was going to die. He just hoped it would come before he made a mess.
Just above his head, he heard Susan moaning. "Oh yeah, right there!" she murmured in his ear. A particularly loud whimper was enough to make Hermione stir.
He knew exactly when she awoke, because she immediately froze. Hermione's eyelashes tickled the back of his neck as she blinked rapidly before rolling onto her back and breathing fast.
"'Mione? It's okay, just relax," he urged.
"How can it be okay? I was…I was…molesting you in your sleep!" she hissed, feeling the hot rush of mortification.
Lifting his head from its resting place, he rolled over to his back – keeping his left hand pleasantly trapped where Susan held it in place – and turned to look at his other girlfriend, trying to keep his eyes above where her own nipples were displaying her arousal. "Did you do it on purpose?"
"No!" she whisper-shouted, rolling onto her side to look at him directly, "I was asleep!"
"Then it's not your fault for not asking me. You didn't even know what you were doing," he tried to soothe.
Unbeknownst to the two whisperers, the movement of rolling over, taking his warm head from her chest, and the sound of their conversation woke Susan out of her delicious dream. She lay still, enjoying the feeling of his hand all the more when he voiced that they couldn't be blamed for things that happened while they were sleeping.
When Hermione seemed to hesitate over his words, she spoke up for the first time. "He's right, Hermione," she whispered, "If we were asleep, we didn't know what we were doing, only that something felt good. His head was on my breasts, and look where his hand is," she said, rolling the sheet back far enough that they could both see, "And let me tell you: it feels really good," she grinned.
Hermione huffed. "That's all well and good, but I was holding his…well, I was polishing his wand, if you know what I mean."
Susan burst out into giggles, which did interesting things to her chest that both her partners appreciated. "Oh, Hermione. Just come right out and say you were rubbing him off."
"And I really liked it," Harry smiled through his blush, "But a few more minutes and it would have been a messy situation."
"You're not the only one," Susan said with a wavering voice as she released his hand from her legs with visible reluctance.
"Me, too," Hermione admitted in a small voice.
"Well at least you two have the option to ignore it with no one the wiser," Harry grumbled, pulling the sheet taut over his legs, "If I try to go downstairs with this thing the way it is, everyone is going to know exactly how happy I'm feeling."
The girls giggled at his embarrassment with his visible erection, though they each shared a look and a gulp at its size.
"Well, it may not be as visible, but it's just as distracting for us," the brunette grumbled.
"So, what are we going to do?" Harry said to the room, careful to not look at either of them.
Hermione bit her lip. "Well, it may be a step forward in our relationship, but we could lay here, taking care of ourselves under the sheet. It's not exactly as embarrassing, since we're all doing it together. I have to admit, the idea of knowing that each of you were doing the exact same thing is an extreme turn-on for me."
"That would be so hot," Susan agreed.
"I like to think I'm not an idiot, and I would have to be the biggest idiot in the world to turn down the idea of watching you two pleasure yourselves, even if it is under a sheet," grinned Harry, looking at each of them in turn, "As long as you want to do this, I'm on board."
They shared a look before Susan took a deep breath. "I'll go first."
Hermione moved down the bed before pulling on Harry's arm to get him to scoot over to her spot. When he'd shifted, she gestured for Susan to move to the middle, leaving the other outside spot for herself.
When they'd been re-situated, Harry and Hermione took turns giving Susan deep kisses, caressing her tongue with their own. Whichever wasn't kissing her lips moved down to kiss, nibble, and suck on her cheeks and neck. As they were kissing, her hands were busy working away beneath the sheet, but leaving no doubt as to what she was doing.
Susan's kisses started to break as her moans grew with her approaching climax. Her right hand worked frantically under the sheets but her left had journeyed upward and was massaging her right breast and pinching her nipple. As she got closer to climax, she got louder, to the point where Harry had to lean over and swallow them in his kiss.
The combination of stimuli pushed her over the edge and she came with a full-body shudder, whimpering into his mouth while Hermione sucked on her pressure point. Susan's moans trailed off into a contented sigh as her body relaxed.
Hermione was so worked up at what happened she didn't even bother getting to the middle. "Sorry, Harry, but that was so hot I have to do this!" she exclaimed, rolling over onto her stomach. The move made the sheet bunch up under her arse, but she was beyond caring that they could basically see her bum.
As her boyfriend and girlfriend watched, Hermione slid her hand underneath her body and started working her own clit furiously. Susan was still coming down off the high of her orgasm and rolled onto her side to get a better look.
"I'm so bloody wet," Hermione moaned, her fingers tracing through her dripping folds.
"Language, Hermione!" Susan scolded. Without a conscious thought, her hand flew up and down, giving the other girl a sharp spank on her bum.
Hermione squealed at the feeling, but it drove her arousal to near-delirium as she drooled onto the pillow. "Do that again!" she begged.
Eyes wide at this new revelation, Susan nevertheless obeyed and started peppering Hermione's bum with more spanks, enjoying the way the other girl's firm muscle rippled under her touch. Hermione squeaked again at each smack, but it lit her fuse. The tidal wave started in her core before sending shock waves of pleasure outward through her entire body. She went stiff and buried her face into her pillow and screamed as the most powerful orgasm of her life tore through her.
After a seeming eternity of sheer pleasure, her body went limp. Harry pulled Susan over for another kiss, watching as Hermione went through a series of small aftershocks.
"Umf. Good. Wow. So much thing…something…sexy," she panted, trying to communicate with those pesky things called words.
Susan burst into giggles. "That must have been a good one. She's lost the power of speech."
A few deep breaths later and Hermione rolled onto her side. "So, that was awesome, and something we're going to have to do again. I really like being spanked," she breathed, grinning at the naked lust on Harry's face. "I think someone is eager for his turn, Susan."
Glancing down at how big of a tent rose up from their boyfriend's lap, the redhead licked her lips. "I think you're right. How about we reward him for his patience?"
"Wonderful idea, love," Hermione agreed, moving back over to her original spot and watching as her loves moved. She slid into bed next to Harry and cuddled into him. "Watch me," she said to her girlfriend.
She took Harry's arm and cradled it in between her petite breasts, nodding for Susan to do the same on his other side. Biting her lip as the other girl's voluptuous chest almost swallowed Harry's left arm, she leaned up to him. "Okay, Harry. We're here with you. Start stroking that wonderful wand of yours," she whispered in her sultriest voice.
Susan took her cue and did the same. "We had our pleasure while you waited for us," she husked into his other ear, "You were so patient and loving to let us go first. Now we want you to feel the same things we did. Go for it, Harry. Remember how it felt when Hermione's arse was jiggling or how my boobs were shaking while we pleasured ourselves," she said, kissing his neck below his ear.
Needing no further encouragement, Harry reached down and clasped himself through his boxers, using the fabric as lubricant. He was so aroused from the way they woke up and watching his girlfriends masturbate that it took bare seconds before he was grunting. "Almost there!"
Hermione got a wicked smirk, reaching over and flicking the sheet down around his ankles, but like herself, he was beyond caring. If they wanted to actually see him rubbing himself, he couldn't care less.
Watching his hand rubbing his member – impressive in its size even without them having personal experience of others to compare it to – had them rubbing their thighs together again. The girls upped their game, and the feel of two mouths sucking on his neck did it. He erupted in his boxers, soaking them with his seed as his grunts turned into moans.
"Sorry about the mess," he apologized.
"Why are you sorry? It's so beautiful," Hermione reassured him, kissing his lips.
Surprising them all, Susan took the hand that had been rubbing and brought it up to her face. She took a tentative sniff of his essence. Deciding that it smelled good enough, her pink tongue peeked out of her lips and she took a tentative lick.
"Susan!" Hermione exclaimed in a whisper, stunned at the girl's boldness.
The other girl licked her lips. "Tastes good. You should try," she urged.
Never one to back down from such a blatant challenge, Hermione took his hand and, never breaking eye contact with her girlfriend, sucked his finger into her mouth, licking his finger up and down with her tongue. "You're right. It does taste good. I can't wait until we're to the point of tasting it directly from the source."
Susan reached over, put her hand on Hermione's neck, and drew her into another deep kiss, dueling tongues in front of Harry's face.
Gobsmacked, Harry fell back onto his pillow. "You two are going to be the death of me."
Giggling girls gave him one last kiss, kissed each other again, and then went off to their respective rooms to get dressed for the day.
Later that morning, the extended Potter family all sat down around the table. Mike and Mary exchanged a look at the happy little smile gracing Hermione's and Susan's faces. Without saying a word, she nodded, promising to talk to the girls after breakfast.
"This isn't working," Hermione said, sitting down at the table with her forehead in her hands, "There's nothing in the library about horcruxes. I've been over every inch of every book about soul magics. It's driving me crazy!"
"Well, what if we take a break?" Sirius started.
"Take a break?! Take a break!? This is Harry's life we're talking about here!" Hermione exploded.
Harry gathered her in his arms and drew her to his lap. "And no one knows that better than I do, 'Mione. But this isn't helping. You're tired, frustrated, and angry. That's not going to help your head stay clear enough to do the research you love so much."
The brunette was still outraged at the idea of taking any time off of her hunt for ways to save her boyfriend's life, but little by little, her ire faded at his own words. "Well, then what should we be doing?"
"What if we go to Hogwarts and take some of that frustration out on Dumbledore himself? We could go in two groups: one to get the horcrux there, and one to keep him busy in his office?" Amelia suggested.
Harry immediately had an evil grin on his face. "I love that idea. I could be with someone else in his office – maybe you to keep him fully off-balance when we reveal that you adopted me right before my emancipation? – while Hermione, Susan, Tonks, and Sirius go to the horcrux?"
"One problem with that, pup: we don't know where it is," Sirius reminded him.
"Maybe not," Susan said with a thoughtful look, "But we do know someone who knows more places to look at the school than anyone else."
Sirius's preening was wasted on all of them when she called for Dobby.
"The Great Master Harry Potter Sir's Missy Susie calls for Dobby?" the elf asked, popping into the room.
Chuckles sounded around the table at his expanded form of address. "Just Miss Susan will do, Dobby," the redhead grinned, "We're going to be heading to Hogwarts to find another thing like that locket we had here. Do you know any place at the school where someone would have hidden a powerful dark magical object?"
"Oh, yes, Missy Susie!" Dobby nodded vigorously, ears bouncing around, "The Come-and-Go room is being the best place to look for bad magic things."
"The Come-and-Go room?" asked Sirius, intrigued at the idea of a new room that even the Marauders never encountered.
"On floor seven by the hanging carpet of the dancing trolls," Dobby nodded once more, "If someone walks three times in front of the tapestry, thinking of what they want to find behind the wall, it appears!"
"Brilliant!" Harry said, "Imagine what a room like that could do!"
"At least we have a starting point now," Amelia said, "I like the idea of Harry and I sitting in with Dumbledore while the others go to this Come-and-Go room."
"Missy Amy?" Dobby asked, trepidation showing in his drooped ears.
"Yes, Dobby?"
"It is also beings called the Room of Requirement. I can takes the group there."
Amelia knelt down beside the elf. "You are the absolute best, Dobby. This family was blessed to have you join us," she said, giving him a hug.
Without warning, Hermione's eyes grew large. "Susan, what was that story you told us last night?"
The redhead blinked. "The Deathly Hallows?"
"Oh, you told them that old children's tale?" Sirius grinned.
Mike and Mary perked up. Hearing what the magical world considered their equivalent of a fairy tale would be informative of the different culture at the least, and probably entertaining, too. "What's this about a children's tale?" Mary asked.
Amelia smiled at their interest and told the story she'd recounted to Susan many times before sending the girl off to bed. Seeing adults take in the story of Cadmus, Antioch, and Ignotus Peverell and the items they asked Death himself for after they bridged a dangerous river.
"Say that last part again," Hermione requested, "What exactly did they ask for?"
"A stone that could summon the spirits of the dead, a cloak to hide from Death himself, and Death's own wand," Sirius said, eyes growing at the thought that something was there that he just couldn't wrap his mind around.
"A stone, a wand, and a cloak," the brunette continued, eyes going out of focus, "Where have we seen each one of these recently?"
"You don't mean…" Susan asked, eyes growing huge, "That symbol on the stone!"
Hermione nodded. "What if it's true?"
"One way to find out," Amelia said, "Let's get them all up to the study. If they're linked artifacts that are that powerful, they may have a response to each other."
"What happens if these things are those from the story?" Mike wanted to know.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Sirius demurred, "Most of us were raised on the idea of this being a children's bedtime story, so the odds of it coming true feel slim to me. Although, with Harry, you pretty much have to be prepared for anything. I think I remember reading that the Potters were descended from the Peverells, so if there's any truth to this…well, let's just get the stuff to my study."
"Bloody hell," Harry breathed.
For once, Hermione didn't correct his language. They were all staring at the desk in awe.
"That actually happened, right?"
"Yep, pup. It sure did. I guess that old children's story wasn't made up," Sirius muttered, not taking his eyes off the objects on his desk.
They'd walked into the study as a group. Hermione, as it had been her idea, put the stone on the front of the desk. Susan looked at the wand she'd won off Dumbledore and put it on the desk next to the stone. Harry was last, looking around as if he wasn't sure what was going on, but he spread the cloak across the desk next to both the stone and the wand.
No one expected to see all three give off a vibrant blue glow and visibly thrum with magic. Harry, Susan, and Hermione shivered in unison as a delicious tingle ran up their spines.
"Woah," said Hermione, "That felt good."
"Well, I guess that more or less confirms it. These are actually the Deathly Hallows, as crazy as that sounds to say," Amelia declared.
"What does that mean?" Susan asked her aunt and Sirius.
The Marauder shook his head. "I have no idea. None of the stories have anything to do with a different person controlling each of the Hallows, even if they are as close as you three."
Amelia agreed. "Every story I ever heard centered around one person possessing all three. As far as I know, this situation may be unprecedented in history since the Peverell brothers."
Several pairs of very large eyes greeted this assessment, staring at the objects.
Severus considered the note attached to the owl he'd received that morning. His godson was requesting a meeting on matters 'related to the Oath'. Somehow, Narcissa must have told her son about his Unbreakable Vow to protect him.
Draco's knowledge of the Vow was…intriguing. Matters related to his Oath was a phrase that had him worried. He was present when the Dark Lord had given Draco his mission to assassinate Dumbledore; it had been that meeting that led to his Vow.
Noticing that the Malfoy owl was still waiting on his reply, Severus quickly scribbled out instructions for Draco to Floo to the Three Broomsticks the next morning. From there, they would find a private area in Hogsmeade for their meeting. Anyone of the Light would simply see Draco meeting his godfather. Anyone of the Dark would simply see one of the Dark Lord's most trusted associates passing instructions to his godson.
A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! Reviews and constructive feedback are always welcome.
The family is going on vacation next week, so I'll try to have another short chapter posted before we leave, but it may not happen. We'll see.
Hope you enjoyed!