Author's Note: A couple responses!

Jessie237, you mentioned that Harry seems to take the Apprenticeship a little too seriously for his personality. Harry takes some things very seriously, but many things he doesn't so much. He holds a lot of respect for the Founders (though he wouldn't likely admit it for Salazar), and for Snape. He has the habit of playing the Marauder and tends to hide most of his more serious emotions; a side effect of his life with the Dursley's most likely.

Cubdom, You're right in that Harry seems a bit 'superpowered', but he's not in essence. He is more powerful than average and he has a few handy skills but he can't do anything or everything. He's just really good at hiding what his weaknesses are. That's the Slytherin in him.

Also, so far in the story he hasn't really been challenged to his full extent. He knows how to deal with a handful of opponents shooting spells at him (that's where his aura tornado effect comes in) but there are things he isn't fully prepared to face. We'll begin to see some of his weaknesses coming up.

"ss.Parseltongue.ss" Just so that you know.

Disclaimer: Not Mine. Talk to Rowling. Just borrowing them a while.

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Last Time

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"Get out, now!" Harry said, throwing up a shield. He felt the spells approaching, feeling the destructive nature of them even if he couldn't directly identify them. He vaguely recognized the full activation of a portkey behind him, just as the spells connected and the hall exploded.

The strength of the spells against him wasn't enough to crack his hasty shield but he couldn't keep his feet rooted to the ground, and felt himself fly backwards through the air, a shower of stone raining down around him.

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The Founders' Heir

Chapter Thirty-Six

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Do Not Mistake Us

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Harry groaned slightly under the weight of his shield. Shaking his head slightly in attempt to clear the stars circling his brow he managed to figure out exactly why his shield felt so unusually heavy.

It was the only thing between him and a thick layer of fallen rock, which he figured used to be the ceiling, or perhaps the walls.

Giving his body a quick check over, he made his way to his feet, none the worse for wear after the violent explosion. The magic of his ward shimmered slightly as it struggled to move with him, lighting his immediate area with blue sparks of magelight. He was completely surrounded by fallen rock and sections of wall and ceiling. One side of his impromptu prison was one of the thick wooden cell doors, slightly buckled and splintered under the weight of the rock above it, and his shield pressing in on its center.

Cin was not within his shield, and a quick scan of his senses proved that his Familiar was not even in the area.

However he wasn't alone.

"Neville?" Harry started slightly at the sight of the boy, curled up in small corner created between the outer edge of his shield and a slab of rock.

"Darion?" Neville asked, uncurling from his near fetal position a bit. Harry spotted the boy's eyes as he peeked out from under his arms.

"You're bloody lucky to be alive, you know that." Harry stated, physically pulling the kid through the barrier of his shield. The shield crackled in protest as the boy passed through it, sending a spray of sparks out around them. A shower of small stones and dust fell into the space the boy vacated. "You alright?"

Neville stood shakily, as if unsure of his footing. "I…I think so."

"Nothing broken, or anything?" Harry asked, scanning the boy and not really listening for a response, trusting his own senses a bit more than the boy's somewhat shaky statements. Neville stammered out something about being fine as Harry concluded that the kid didn't bear any more wounds than he had before.

"What happened?" Neville asked, staring around the small bubble of ruined dungeon.

"The party upstairs decided to switch venues." Harry grumbled a bit sourly, sitting himself down cross-legged in the center of his shield. The ward shifted again with his movement, sending more sparks falling around his head. The shift of the magical shield caused the stones around them to shift, their edges grinding against each other.

Harry eyed the stones around them for a moment, slightly uncomfortable at the weight of the shield on him. The ward would hold the stone and rubble above them, but he had to continue to support the magic of the shield, which was a bit of a tiring process.

"Give me a moment." Harry said, reassured that his shield was in one piece.

Neville nodded and Harry closed his eyes, searching out the bond with his Familiar. A moment later he received a faint acknowledgement from the Griffin along with a flurry of images and emotions. Harry returned a slightly irritated feeling to the cub for his hap-hazard communication habits as he sorted through the mess Cin sent to him.

Visions of Dreary Hold's dungeon collapsing around them under the barrage of spells blurred into the chaotic whirlwind of a portkey and finally cleared to the sterile view of Hogwarts Infirmary. The strongest image was that of a bustling medi-witch shooting disapproving looks to the griffin while she hovered over the group portkeyed out of the manor, and a heavy feeling of discontentment at being cooped up in the castle.

Harry sent the disgruntled cub a soothing feeling, though he was pretty sure that Cin received some of his amusement as well. If there was anything that the small Griffin disliked, it was being left behind while Harry got to fight.

"Well," Harry said, rising to his feet again, "Seems as if Cin managed to take your place at the portkey."

"They're ok?"

"I'm not sure about that…" Harry said, amused, "They're all stuck under Pomfrey's eye, now."

Harry shot Neville a grimace followed by an easy smile, which seemed to relax the boy a bit. "They're fine." Harry reassured.

"That's good."

Harry spread his senses out again, feeling the faint traces of magic from the barrage of destructive spells on the rocks around him and farther beyond that the tell-tale signs of magic-wielding life forms.

"There's at least seven of them at the end of the hall near the stairs." Harry said, "And somewhere near a dozen above, though I'm not sure if they're all fighters or not."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not sure if the party was a social affair or some sort of Death Eater gathering." Harry said as he checked his various weapons. He had managed to lose three of his throwing stars and two knives, not that it would hinder him much, but it rankled him none-the-less. He was comforted though, that he had not lost Gryffindor's sword when he got flung around the collapsing corridor. "Considering their overall failure at Hogsmeade earlier, I'm more inclined to believe that it was a social or political party not directly related to Voldemort and his posse, which means that not all of them may raise their wands against us."

"Oh."

Harry paused and took a good look at the boy hunched next to him. Neville was taller than him, though he seemed to want to curl in on himself, making him seem shorter and wider than he really was. Harry, however, had seen the boy stand upright before, and knew that while Neville was soft spoken and inclined to a quiet existence with his plants he could bear the famed Gryffindor courage like the best of lions.

Harry knew just what would give the boy the spark of strength that he needed to face their situation.

"Do you know how to wield a sword, Neville?" Harry asked, watching the boy closely. He suspected the answer, but asked it anyways. Neville started, and stared back at him in slight surprise.

"Yea, Gram made me take lessons since I was a kid."

"Do you know why?"

Neville audibly swallowed, then nodded. Harry saw the boy's shoulders lift a bit. "Yes. She told me this past summer."

"Good."

Harry turned and faced the boy squarely, pulling the sword from its position slung across his back. He held it out horizontally between them, the thin blade nestled securely in its gilded scabbard. Neville's eyes widened in recognition at the sight of the sword's handle and scabbard.

"I, as a Founder's Heir," Harry stated in a soft formal tone, "of a blood line to Godric Gryffindor, of a magical line to Salazar Slytherin, and as the Lord of the House's Potter and Black, present to you, Heir, the Sword of Gryffindor."

Neville reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over the hilt of the sword. Harry didn't move, waiting for the boy to accept the sword as was his right. Neville's father, Frank, was the true Lord of Gryffindor, but as the man was unable to take up his role as the Lord, Neville was the next in line. The boy was yet too young to accept the full range of duties that the Lordship required, but the Sword of Gryffindor hardly cared what age its Lord was. That had been proven in Harry's second year by the simple act of him drawing the thing from the hat. Harry was not a direct Heir, but he held Gryffindor's blood just the same, which allowed him to wield the sword, though the blade would never fully accept him with a more direct line able to claim it.

That line was the Longbottom's.

Neville took a deep breath and grasped the scabbard of the sword with a sure hand. Harry released the sword, feeling the traces of magic in the blade working to bind itself to Neville as soon as his hand left it.

"May you wield it with skill, and may it serve you well." Harry said softly.

Neville lifted his chin with pride, his shoulders straightening and his face hardening into determined resolve as he buckled the strap around his hip.

Harry nodded in approval. It had been too many years since Gryffindor had an active Lord. Neville would fill the role well.

"No matter what happens," Harry said intensely, "Do not touch me."

Neville started and stared at him. Harry let the hold on his magic loosen and his hand began to glow, the green shade of his aura lighting their area eerily. The boy stared at his hand as his magic became stronger and green flames flickered around his palm.

"It will kill you if it touches you." Harry said. "I can control it to an extent, but if you suddenly touch me and I am unprepared for it, I cannot stop the reaction that will occur. You won't likely survive it."

Neville nodded, taking a step back and looking slightly wary of him. Harry watched him for a moment before nodding as well and turning to face the general direction of the stairs. He didn't like to scare his friends, but he wanted less to harm them because they didn't know of what he could do. His magic would kill Neville before Harry was even aware that the kid had touched him. Better to scare the boy than for Neville not to fully understand the consequences.

"That sword has natural defensive magics." Harry said softly, raising his hand to point down towards the stairs through the rock. "When you get a chance, grab a few wands, though."

"Alright." Neville said.

Harry heard the whistle of the sword being pulled from its sheath, and sure that Neville was ready to defend himself at least, he turned his attention to blasting a way through the rock around them.

The wonderful thing about having the cores of two wands imbedded into his arms – despite the painful process – was that he could easily cast multiple spells at once, a feat near impossible for most wizards with a single wand, and difficult for those even bearing two.

Dropping the front and habit of speaking the words of spells, Harry simply cast them without opening his mouth. Holding his shield strongly, he let loose two spells, one directly after the other.

The first was a bright orange, and charged through the rock and collapsed walls before him with a violent crash, sending stone and debris flying forward. The second followed after with hardly a distinction between them, though its color and purpose was different. It followed in the tunnel made by the first and burst out of the end of the corridor, bowling into the Death Eaters at the stairs.

Harry followed his spells with three throwing stars, two of which hit flesh as the third was luckily dodged, lodging in the wall next to one of the Death Eaters' heads. They served their purpose, however, as the Death Eaters weren't prepared for Harry's presence directly before them. He stood not two meters from them, his arms crossed over his chest. He stared them down, knowing that the intensity in his eyes would likely unnerve them.

Five were still standing, one clutching his arm where a star was lodged deeply into the bone. Harry all but dismissed him, he would be dead without any further help. His throwing stars were coated with poisons.

"Let us go, and you might just live through the night." Harry warned. He really didn't expect them to let him and Neville go, but he figured it would only be fair to give them the option.

"You should just give up and die, Potter." One of them said. Harry didn't recognize the voice.

Harry didn't bother to respond, he simply let his magic begin to flame up along his arms. The energy of his magic crackled and flickered like a strange mix between lightning and fire as it lined his forearms.

"Avada Kedavra!" one of the Death Eaters called. The green light of the spell matched the color of his aura perfectly, and Harry did nothing but bat it away with his arm. The killing curse ricocheted off his arm and shot off back to its caster.

The man was too surprised to dodge. His own curse crashed back into his chest, and he collapsed against the wall behind him.

Harry felt his arm tremble, and the magic flair slightly at his wavering control. He clenched his fist tightly, forcing the wild magic under his control through sheer force of will. His arm tingled painfully, but he ignored it.

"Very well." Harry said, eyeing the remaining four darkly. They stood close to each other, blocking his way up the stairwell behind them. The fifth, with the star in his arm, was leaning heavily against the wall and looked about ready to collapse. He let out a weak moan and slid to the floor, his head rolling forward heavily. His movement distracted one of the others closest to him.

As the man turned to eye his fallen companion, Harry struck.

His magic whipped out from his right arm in a vicious ark of flame and lightning, striking one of the Death Eaters directly across the chest. He toppled to the floor, his body crashing into the one kneeling behind him, sending them both down.

The last standing Death Eater let out a wordless yell and charged at him.

Caught slightly off guard, Harry brought his arms up defensively, blocking the man's punch to his face, but missing the desperate kick to his leg. Harry staggered, the muscles in his thigh clenching painfully at the blow.

He stepped back, watching as the man slouched to the ground at his feet.

That side of his magic would kill, even if he didn't direct it to do so.

Harry pulled the magic back into himself, forcing the wild power to settle and calm. The flames around his arms flickered as if angered but then died out, the green glow fading from his arms. He was never glad to kill. He tried to ignore the cold tremor that made its way down his spine. The Unforgiveables were named such as much for their effects on the caster as for their results on the victim.

Harry took a deep breath, taking in the remaining Death Eater.

"Get out of here." Harry growled, his temper far shorter than usual.

The man stared at him through his mask for a moment before scrambling to his feet and racing up the stairs. Harry watched him go, glad that the man had taken his advice. He really didn't want to kill him.

"Oy, I found our wands!"

Harry turned his head to spot Neville kneeling over one of the fallen Death Eaters. From the blood pooling beneath his head, Harry figured that the man had gotten struck with a rock or something else equally heavy. Neville held up three wands triumphantly.

Harry nodded. "Good, let's go."

Harry started up the stairs, hearing Neville scramble to his feet and follow behind him.

They met no one as they moved up the stairs and through the first floor of the manor. Harry could hear frenzied whispers coming from the kitchen, but his senses told him that none were magical. He passed them by without bothering them. No doubt the hired help had gotten enough of a scare that night.

Harry led them up the main stairs at the front of the manor, paying little attention to his surroundings, past making sure that he wasn't about to walk onto an enchanted rug or other cursed object. He could feel a strong magical signature left in the manor, a magical signature that he recognized.

The main stairwell led to an ornate landing on the second floor, facing a large set of double doors. They stood open, leading to a large room.

The hall beyond was impressive, though Harry thought it a bit gaudy. It was lined with torches, only half of which were lit, creating a dim lighting in the chamber. Chairs and tables lined the walls, no doubt for use during a party or other gathering.

One of the armed chairs had been pulled closer to the center of the room, and it was not empty.

"Is that…Malfoy?" Neville whispered. Harry glanced over at the boy before returning his attention to the blonde aristocrat.

"Stay here." He told Neville as he entered the hall, not waiting for an answer from the boy.

Harry stalked the chair like a predator, his eyes never leaving the aristocrat. Lucius watched him back, following his progress a bit warily.

Lucius was seated primly in the high-backed chair, or as primly as he could, slouching may have been more appropriate. Either way the blonde was struggling to stay upright, his hands clenched tightly around the arms of the chair. Harry could see the man's muscles trembling under the strain.

"You haven't figured it out then." Harry commented darkly, "The cut is yet unhealed."

Lucius didn't verbally respond, but his eyes narrowed and his lips twitched.

"Or did you happen to identify the poison, and just don't know the antidote?" Harry said, pausing to eye the cut across the man's cheek. He continued his slow circling of the man, flickering his eyes briefly over to see Neville hovering on the threshold, watching the proceedings with some curiosity.

"Voldemort would recognize it." Harry said as he came around to the man's side again. "I wonder; would he give you the antidote?"

Harry paused directly in front of Lucius, intrigued at the man's expression. The aristocrat was adept at hiding his emotions, but the man's eyes gave away the distinctive feeling of unexpected betrayal.

"He didn't give it to you then." Harry said, his tone holding a note of grim finality to it. "Why not? You were his most faithful, were you not? His right hand, a glorious position to a Dark Lord." Harry began circling again, his intense gaze locked onto the blonde in his chair. "And yet he found you unworthy of saving. How intriguing."

Lucius still said nothing, his jaw clenched tightly before the words Harry knew the man yearned to spit out.

"Well," Harry said from behind the man, "then I can hardly fault your Lord's decision. Clearly you do not deserve the antidote, so I shall not save you."

"You are just like him." Lucius ground out. Harry paused in his circling, standing to the man's side.

"Coming from such a loyal Death Eater I should be proud to be compared to his great Lord." Harry said not a little mockingly.

Lucius appeared to have regained control of his jaw and had it again firmly clenched shut. Harry narrowed his eyes slightly, and suddenly lunged forward, trapping the blonde into his chair. Harry's arms braced his weight on top of Lucius' arms on the chair, and he shoved his face into the man's own.

"Do not mistake me for the monster you call master, Lucius." Harry hissed dangerously into the blonde's ear. "I may have the means to save your life but you forget that I was the one who cut you. Do you truly think that I did not know what coated my blades? Do you think that I did not wish you dead when I pulled my knife?"

Lucius' eyes narrowed and the muscles of his jaw clenched tighter. Harry sneered.

"What of the master you so willingly and faithfully serve? Why doesn't he save you, Lucius? Why doesn't he gift his most loyal follower with the antidote I know he has?"

Harry hissed wordlessly into the man's ear and then backed away from him as suddenly as he had approached. He stood a few paces away, turned to the side, and looked around the room absently.

"No, do not mistake us, Lucius." Harry said softly, "We may both willingly kill our enemies, but never would I leave an ally to death if I had the means to save him. Besides, even if I wanted to, I could not save you now. You were dead within two hours of receiving that cut on your cheek. The antidote would no longer save you even if I was willing to give it."

Harry glanced back over at Lucius. The blonde was no longer able to hold himself to the prim seating he wished to keep. The poison had sapped much of his strength. He would not live long.

His eyes, however, still held the feeling of betrayal.

"So you saw him within the time limits." Harry said absently. Voldemort had the ability to save the man, yet the Dark Lord had not done so. Harry didn't want to even try to figure out the reasoning Riddle had used for that one.

Harry eyed the man before him for a moment.

"You may or may not be curious to know that your son will not suffer your fate." Harry said, watching the man with some curiosity. "His allies do not leave their own to painful deaths."

It took the aristocrat a moment to process the true meaning behind Harry's words, but it was clear that the man fully understood. Draco had chosen to side with the light, with Harry Potter. Lucius' son had forsaken his father's teachings.

Lucius struggled within the chair, his eyes blazing his fury as he stood shakily. He drew his wand with clumsy, shaking fingers and had every intent on lunging at Harry with the killing curse on his lips.

Harry didn't bother to move or even react. He simply watched dispassionately as Lucius stumbled to his knees, his wand clattering to the floor. The man no longer had the strength to stand. He would not be able to cast any spells. Lucius choked and gasped, his body trembling as it gave out. His arms collapsed under him and he crashed to the floor, his eyes wide as he lost all control of his body.

"So much alike." The blonde gasped out, his eyes intense as they locked onto Harry's own.

Harry watched as the man gasped for breath and was unable to breathe. His silver eyes glazed over and a moment later the tremors ceased. Harry stared hard at the man, his mind and emotions whirling slightly.

Lucius Malfoy was dead, by his own Lord's reluctance to heal him of an injury gained by an enemy.

"No, do not mistake us." Harry whispered to the empty room.

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Author's Note: gah…graduating semesters are sooo busy!

Coming up sometime in the next half a dozen or so chapters: Harry's greatest weakness, a returned Weasley, and no, I haven't forgotten that mangy, run-away statue!

Oh, and you can be sure that Snape isn't terribly pleased with Harry for that singing charm despite Harry saving his greasy arse from his vindictive former colleagues.