Okay, it might seem that I don't care at all, but trust me, I do. But you must first accept the fact that I'm not J. K. Rowling for this thing to work... Don't worry. I have faith in you, and I'll wait... for a while.
Harry haven't expected a surprise like that appearing out of nowhere, and if allowed to, he would have spent entire day, if not couple of them, to talk with Olivander. But as it was, he had to keep up appearances, and with a quick word to the wand maker that he will visit the shop as soon as possible, he hurried for his meeting with Dumbledore.
He haven't even thought long about the fact that he didn't knew the way, because a quick word with a ghost solved that problem, and paintings were great help too, whenever he wanted to make sure he was going the shortest way. Even the gargoyle wasn't much of an obstacle, because in the second he stopped in front of the statue, Dumbledore's words detailing exactly that kind of a situation came to the front of his memory.
But when he finally made it to the top of the stairs, he met first thing that wasn't exactly in accordance with the plan. When he knocked on the door to Headmaster's office, there was no answer. He tried again, but with similar result. After the third try, he simply grabbed the handle and found the doors unlocked, but nobody inside.
It seemed that Headmaster had other business' to attend to, before he was able to come back to his tower – or maybe Harry took so long that Dumbledore couldn't wait any longer. Whatever it was, Harry decided to wait, even if for a short while, as it was the very first time he had ever been in the Headmaster's office.
Strangely, he wasn't overly mystified by the room. The décor was perfectly suiting Dumbledore – from strange colours to weird trinkets standing here and there. The multitude of paintings of previous headmasters and headmistresses hanging all around the room didn't interest him at all, as it was their duty to serve the current one with their advice. Harry did stop to appreciate the sight of a phoenix, since even as it was well known that Dumbledore had such a familiar, Harry haven't seen one – he noted for future use that this particular one liked to be scratched in the exact same place as Hedwig.
Harry couldn't guess why from all those magical artefacts that the room contained, he stopped in front of a very old, battered hat.
"Hello, Hat," Harry said after a while of simply looking at it.
The Sorting Hat made a big show out of waking itself up, like it always did during the sorting feast. Harry smiled, because for a long time now, he thought that the hat never really slept, being suspended like the paintings, only waiting for it's owner's call.
The hat at last opened it's eyes, scanned the room, then concentrated on the human standing in front of it.
"Ah, young Potter. What would you like from an old cloth like me?" the hat asked, a little gruffly, not being used to being woken up so abruptly.
Harry blinked. "You remember me?"
"Why, of course I do," the hat responded as it was the most obvious thing, "I don't suppose you ever forget the hard choices you had to do in your life,"
Harry blinked again. 'There goes the theory about it being merely another form of a painting,' he thought, and then "Do you want to check again? You know, to make sure you did the right thing?"
"I don't really need to, but being on your head would allow us to speak, and me go back to sleep at the same time," the hat replied, even as Harry was already placing it on his head.
'Now, that's strange,' he heard hat's voice a moment ago, 'There is something new that wasn't in here before, and it's familiar too,' the voice said as the hat was shuffling through his mind-scape, 'I know it from somewhere, but it can't be, because if it is, it would have to be-'
'Me?' a new voice asked, and Harry looked as Slytherin appeared out of nowhere, standing there with his best smirk.
'Master!' the hat exclaimed in joyous surprise.
'Seharol, how many times do I have to repeat that you should stop calling me that?' Salazar scolded with a scowl.
'I'm sorry Master,' the hat replied in a submissive voice, 'That's just the way I am, and I can't do anything about it,'
'Seharol?' Harry asked, interrupting the conversation that was being conducted in his head.
'That's the name he gave himself, Seharol Gryffindor. Scrambled syllables of our first names and Godric's last name as to state the closest family it's related to,' Slytherin explained calmly, but the hat wasn't able to contain it's emotions.
'But you're back, Master!' it continued with the same energy and excitement as before, 'It means that it worked!'
'Yes, it worked, and young Potter here is doing nicely with his studies, not saying that he has started teaching others, as well,' Salazar said with a true smile.
During his last statement, Magie at last showed up to check what all the commotion was about, but just as she appeared, the phoenix that was watching Harry converse with the hat gave a squawk of surprise at the event. Harry looked strangely between Magie and the phoenix, the turned once again to Slytherin.
'Why haven't it reacted like that when you showed up?' he asked confused at the fact, while Magie went to introduce herself and pet the startled animal.
'I think I told you once already, that hallucinating is not form of magic,' Salazar replied, his smirk back in place, 'While I may seem like one of your friends that life in that Town of yours, I am not. I'm simply another personality that you keep aside, and while, in theory, you could allow me some powers, you would never be able to call me to your side as you please, something you are able to do with them, since I could always disagree or dispute with you,' he explained, then turned to watch the girl playing with the mythical bird.
'She, on the other hand, is quite different, and not only from me, but also from the other ones. While you can lend the powers to them, the ones that yet do not have a purpose, would appear just like me – a mere mirage – while those with one will simply do what they were called for before disappearing. But whenever she arrives, she gathers energy around her, readies herself for anything and everything you might require. I don't think that the phoenix sees the form – maybe, at most, the disturbance in the magic, but it was enough to startle it,'
Harry thought about the facts and reasoning presented, which gave the hat the opportunity to voice it's thought's again.
'He is doing well, indeed,' Sorting Hat commented, for a while seeing the world through Harry's eyes, 'So, it is the time at last?'
'Like I said, I am a mere shadow of my former self – I decide nothing,' Slytherin replied, 'But seeing my student's actions, and what is happening, I would have to say that it won't be long before you see at least a glimpse of the old world,'
Seharol seemed to deliberate that statement quietly for a while, but then got a determined look on his face while announcing 'Let then another old friend help with the deed,' at which something heavy hit Harry on the head. He yelped in pain at the sudden blow, and ducked his head, making the hat fall an clatter on the floor.
'Clatter?' Harry thought in surprise, while massaging his hurting head. He looked at the hat laying on the round, and noticed something made of steel sticking out of it. He bent down, picked the item, grabbing the hat in the other hand, and froze.
'Ah, Godric's sword. How... appropriate,' Slytherin said with a grin.
But Harry wasn't paying attention to the words. He was more interested with the buzz that holding the sword gave him – the power that went from the sword throughout his entire body.
'I still remember how good it feels to hold that blade,' Salazar continued, 'Do you feel it?' he asked, already knowing the answer from Harry's baffled expression.
The raven-haired boy couldn't formulate words. He simply nodded, and shifted his gaze from the blade to Magie, who seemed to practically glow with power. She stood there, her eyes closed, a slight light emanating from her body. She was taking deep, measured breaths as if meditating, being content to simply bask in the goodness that she felt.
'I saw goblin blades before,' Harry said, finally getting over the shock, 'even held some of them, but it was never like this,'
'Ah, yes. Goblin steel indeed has some of the most amazing capabilities - taking in only what straightens it being one such thing,' Slytherin replied with a nod, 'But Godric was no slack when it came to enchanting, and what you see, or rather, feel now, is a result of a skilled wizards adding his own spells to the mix,' he said in a way that stated clearly that he was about to share another tale from the past.
'In times when wand's were more and more popular during duels that proved the skill of particular wizard, and old timer like Godric had to deal with it - and he thought of this. Anyone who the sword accepted after he improved it, could tell that the sword felt powerful in their hands-'
'But why would a wizard need a sword in the first place?' Harry couldn't help but ask.
'Normally, they wouldn't, but Godric wasn't only a wizard. He was a son of a nobleman, a Lord to his people, and a commander whenever he had to be. He was never one to stay behind, and you could always see him at the very front line, leading his soldiers. Of course, some of the plans he made while thinking on his feet could be quite insane, but that's why he cherished courage - because with good men at his side, he never knew defeat,' Slytherin said with a smile, remembering the days from the past, before he caught himself.
'Now, usually a wizard fighting against the usual platoon of soldiers was not a big problem, even when they had an enchanted armour - a thing wizards busied themselves with in times of peace – which could be quite a problem for normal soldiers. But that was only when standing face to face. On a vast battlefield, when you need to be in constant movement, there was not much time to gather the energy needed to cast grand spells, so he had to resign himself to a sword as means of defence and attack. And that's why the sword was even more important, but you would know why already, if not for interrupting me,' Slytherin scolded him shortly, before continuing his explanation.
'You see, power anyone holding the sword was talking about was nothing compared to what you're feeling, because only a wizard capable of casting wandlessly was able to appreciate fully it's usefulness. That's why sword accepting you was so important, because with that, the sword was no different than a magical lightning rod. It not only pulls any energy nearby to you, but even more than that. Spells that you parry with it, or if you would pierce wards in your path – the sword shrugs the intent off of them, and changes them to pure energy which you can use instantly, or store temporarily in the rubies that serve as warding stones. That's why Gryffindor was so scary. That sword made him even more powerful, but more importantly than that, instantly ready for any kind of battle,'
Harry was so immersed in the story, that he forgot where he was, and didn't knew what to say when the doors to Headmaster's office opened, and Dumbledore with judges and other people appeared on the treshhold, seeing him stand there with Gryffindor's sword in one hand and Sorting Hat in the other.
"Now, that's a sight I never thought I would see," Albus muttered while stopping in the doorstep, people gazing over his shoulder. He quickly made his way across the room, stopping right next to Harry, examining the blade.
"May I?" he asked, and Harry simply handed the blade over.
The second the blade left his hand, the buzz ended and Magie lost her glow with a sigh, returning to her normal self. She opened her eyes, only now noticing the crowd gathered in the room, and as not to add confusion to the situation, disappeared into thin air right after Slytherin did.
"My, my, my" Albus kept muttering while taking all of the blades features in, "A Founder's relic found after centuries – such a prize," he said louder, and begun looking around his office, "Now, where would be the most suitable place..." he said out loud, but more to himself that to anybody else.
Harry frowned at Headmaster's strange behaviour, before he caught on of what the man was thinking, and blinked at the absurdity of that thought.
"Headmaster, are you going to hang Gryffindor's sword on a wall?" he asked as to make sure he was correct in his assumption.
"I was thinking of a display case suitable for such a rare item, but, yes," Dumbledore responded, not disturbing himself from searching the most suitable wall for such an honour.
"I don't want to be rude, but you can't do that," Harry said, while shaking his head.
"OH, shut up already!" Snape exclaimed, Harry only now noticing that he was in the room. On second thought, he just now noticed just how many people had entered the room, because it seemed that beside all the judges, also half of the Hogwart's staff came in for some sort of a special meeting.
"Who are you to tell the Headmaster of Hogwarts what he should or shouldn't do with Founder's relics?" the Potion Master continued in the same offensive tone, taking advantage of one occasion when he was sure he was right an Potter was wrong.
"Well, I don't think I can," Harry replied, at which Snape did his best winning-sneer, "but..." Harry uttered, but not knowing what to say next, simply raised the Sorting Hat to his eye level.
"Dumbledore, you old fossil!" the Hat snapped, it's harsh tone back in full force.
Hearing the words, Snape lost his sneer faster than should be possible, and replaced it with a face expressing total shock, suiting the ones everyone in the room had while hearing the statement. But Seharol Gryffindor was hardly done.
"I gave the sword to Potter for a reason, and even if it would fulfil it's purpose, it's me you have to talk to when it comes to what's to be done with Founder's relics. I keep repeating that I hold their combined traits, but it seems that hardly anyone listens! So, I'll make a deal with you. You either give that sword back, or if you want to treat the Founder's will as a joke, then put me in a display case next to it, as another reminder of the past, and sort your children on your own!" the hat finished, and frozen again, but not in it's usual contemplative pose, but with the funniest face it could manage to hold.
Hearing the hat berate supposedly most powerful wizard in the magical community, and hearing the joy in it's voice while it spoken with Salazar, Harry didn't dispute the fact that it felt strongly about the Founders. More than that. Now he understood how the basilisk could snap so quickly at the mere word of someone spoiling Slytherin's work.
Everyone in the room, even Albus Dumbledore himself, were left speechless at the tirade, and looking at the hat's deformed expression, Headmaster didn't even say a word, simply handing the sword back.
"Thank you," Harry said while accepting the blade, after which he placed the Hat on it's proper place. Sorting Hat winked at him, and then begun to slumber again in it's normal form
"There was something you wanted to speak with me about, Headmaster," Harry said, while stepping away from the shelves and making his way in front of the desk.
"Why, yes," Albus responded with a gentle smile, not really disturbed by what happened moments ago, which raised a few brows, "Since you are the youngest contestant in this tournament, not having as much experience as the others, we thought it proper to allow you an advisor," he said, getting straight to business, "We have decided that Professor Moody would be best for you,"
Harry glanced at the grizzled ex-auror, thought about it for a while, and replied:
"Why, thank you professor," he said with a bow to the man, "but I would like Professor Snape as my advisor," that hushed the room completely, and shocked the man in question the most.
"While it's your decision, may I inquire why you picked Severus?" Albus asked calmly, disturbing people again that he was not reacting to the words that were exchanged. Some even were wondering if they were participating in the same conversation as he was.
"Well, with Professor Moody now being the Head of Slytherin, I don't think he will have that much time to help me with my preparations, so I picked the second best option. With Professor Snape being a Potions Master, it would help me greatly, since I'm certainly lacking in that field. And since it is well known that he's trying to become the Defence Against the Dark Art's teacher, it shows that he also holds a great knowledge of spells, so it wouldn't be much different than with Professor Moody," Harry summed up.
"Oh, yes, I see that you've really thought about it," Dumbledore said, pleased with the explanation, "Now only a formality. Severus, do you agree?"
Everyone turned to the man in question, who, since Potter begun speaking, was turning more and more red from the anger, clenching his fists frantically at the blatant lies the brat was spewing. The fiend was lying in the eye, and only he could see it. But now, with everyone staring at him, and especially Potter with this innocent, full of adoration eyes of his, staring at him like a lamb... Something in him broke in that instance, and he decided that he couldn't take it any longer...
Everyone's eyes widened, as the man snorted with laughter once, then second time, even as tears started rolling from his eyes. He dropped to the floor and begun beating with his hands at the floor, howling in a mad laughter even as he was crying his eyes out.
"Oh, my," everyone, suspended in dumbfound state because of the constant shock coming to their system, turned to Dumbledore who just spoke, "He can't contain how happy he is at the news," he commented with a gigantic smile on his face.
In the meantime, Harry made his way to his new advisor, and patting him on the back, kept muttering, "Don't worry Professor, we can take care of your troubles too,".
Snape only cried harder.
People present were gazing at the strange sigh, throwing glances at Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, smiling like he just got the best Christmas gift one cane imagine, and they failed to even begin to formulate the words needed to describe what was happening. Only one voice interrupted Snapes tormented howls.
"Do you really think Potter needs advisor for anything?" Moody asked through a wheezing chuckle, clearly enjoying the show.
The rest of the crowd just shook their head, not knowing if saying anything else was wise thing to do.
The next day, when The Daily Prophet was distributed during the morning feast, it seemed as if the reporters them-self didn't know what was more important, as they split the front page to include two stories at once. The first headline screamed:
The Triwizard Tournament Sabotaged From Day One
A cute little story how a young kid was too smart for his own good, and involved himself in the affairs of adults. Harry didn't pay that much attention to this one, since it was clear that if Rita Skeeter couldn't get news, she made news. Maybe it was because of her demanding her story was first page material that it was even there, because the second story was so much more sensational.
Sentence: Not Guilty
Trials of Wizards Caught During World Cup Extremely Quick
Right after reading that one, Harry glanced across the breakfast tables, and noticed Malfoy's smug attitude, probably bragging to his friends how justice was served. But whenever he thought nobody was looking, he would slump, even so slightly, under the pressure of all the glares coming his way from all directions.
It was hardly different in the rest of the magical community, Harry thought. He had no idea how Malfoy managed to get himself out of jail for the second time – or rather, how much gold he said goodbye to, to manage it so smoothly. But average wizards were no longer buying it.
In fact, at one time, Malfoy Sr. might have settled his position before the chaos of the war settled down, but now, with old wounds being opened again, the ferocity of the crowd on the night of the match – Harry didn't predict the sweetest life for that family. With Crabbe and Goyle always serving as grunts, Malfoy wouldn't be seen as just a Death Eater. He would serve the role of The Death Eater – the poster boy, the face you think about whenever the term was uttered.
Harry glanced at Draco one more time, and from the Slytherin's body language it was sure, that Harry's thoughts weren't far from the truth.
During the next weekend, Harry resigned from his right to go to the Hogsmade, but for the first time used his status as a legal adult and as such be allowed to go anywhere he pleases in his free time, to visit Diagon Alley. Even as he didn't state his business to Headmaster when he asked about it, knowing that he don't have to, he had to do something of grave importance – and as soon as possible.
The goblin standing in front of the Gringott's doors was on guard immediately upon noticing a human with a sheathed sword, making his way up the stairs. The man did not make one step further than the last step, and presenting the sheathed sword, muttered only two words:
"Goblin steel,"
He didn't need to say anything else, as goblin's assumption was proven right, and upon hearing the words, he clapped his fingers, making a low sound of the gong to reverberate throughout the lobby of the bank. Then happened something that haven't happened for a long, long time. Every customer was asked to step outside, with clerks forming a line on both sides of the entrance.
Many of the younger goblins would say this to be wasteful, if they wouldn't be afraid of disrespecting an old tradition. In fact, it was because it wasn't used so often, that the rules of conduct haven't changed throughout the centuries, and if it was just a casual service offered by the bank, it would take much different form as the time progressed.
But as it was, when the line of goblins formed, the human at the door was let inside, and once again, stopped in the middle of the hall, not making one step more than needed. From the other side of the room, Ragnok, as the oldest and the most respected in Gringotts, could be seen walking, his walking stick hitting the stone floor being the only sound that filled the room. He stopped in the middle, some distance in front of the man.
"State your business," Ragnok said the formula that accompanied any transaction inside the bank walls, but hearing it from him, in this situation, it gave the words a greater meaning.
"I've came to clear a misunderstanding, that a great treasure had not been stolen, but lost throughout the ages, as only recently it had been presented to me by the Sorting Hat, as means to help me achieve my goals," Harry stated, before kneeling on one knee, and after slowly unsheathing the sword, presenting it on extended hands, "I give to you, the sword that belonged to Godric Gryffindor," he announced, before bowing his head.
The position he was in wasn't of apology, or asking for forgiveness for the deeds that were done. It was merely a display of humility in front of the creator of such a fine item and respect for their skills.
Ragnok took the blade, inspected in thoroughly, running his hands across the blade couple of times. After he was done, he picked the sheath that was lying on the ground, and again placed the sword in it.
"Indeed, it is true that this is the blade," he announced, at which a quiet mutter had run through the hall, and one young goblin stepped closer to him carrying a big scroll, "Ancestry lines are of no importance here," Ragnok waved the goblin off, which silenced the hall again.
"I know young Potter, and without a doubt he is saying the truth," at these words, Harry stood up again, "As of why he is not needed to be an ancestor to carry the blade, that is because Sorting Hat, by the ancient laws being seen as a steward of Founders properties and riches whenever their heirs are not present, voiced that this man should carry this blade. If anyone does not agree with my assessment, let his voice be know, upon which Sorting Hat shall be called to repeat it's judgement, and Harry James Potter's worth shall be tested," not one of the goblins present said a word.
With a nod, Ragnok announced "As such, I deem him worthy of carrying goblin steel," and bowed as much as his old bones allowed, presenting the sheathed sword back to Harry.
Harry bowed shortly while accepting the sword, to finish the traditional salute of an artisan to a person worthy, and able, to carry his masterpiece.
When Ragnok was standing straight again, all the goblins around them bowed shortly, finishing the ceremony, before returning to their posts and their work.
"Now, that was quite an exercise," Ragnok said while whipping the sweat from his forehead, "But I thank you for that – for letting the young ones see that there are still honourable humans in this world," he added with a smile, and before Harry could even say a word, he continued, "As a matter of fact, I know exactly what would go with that sword quite nicely," he said while snapping his fingers,
Immediately, a goblin came running with a bundle, and upon reaching the two, presented Harry with a suit of armour. It didn't look like steel, being flimsier than that, but not a dragon-skin either, as it looked even more durable than that.
"Finest suit of amour, made for your ancestor by one of my own," Ragnok said with a short bow, to which Harry at once responded with one of his own. A mere formality in the face of the previous ceremony.
"I don't know what to say," Harry mumbled while accepting the bundle, but still feeling like this one was already prearranged.
"You need to say nothing," Ragnok said with a smile, then frowned, "In fact, now that you have been officially accepted as a friend to the goblins, we need to prepare a list of every goblin made item that was prepared for your family throughout the ages,"
Harry's eyes bulged at the news, "You mean, there's more?"
"Oh, you just wouldn't believe how many vaults we have to maintain that store only items that are waiting to be claimed – by someone worthy of course," Ragnok said, while slowly walking back to his office, "It would be so much easier if we could sell them after a whole millennium, rather than wait for that line to die out," he finished with a sigh.
AN. "You think I overdid it in the scene with Snape?" asks while scratching his chin, "Nah," shakes his head and walks away while munching on an apple.
But seriously, it's been something like 20k words over the last, what, 10 days? I like it when the work is going smoothly, but come on! My head is killing me right now...
