A.N.: I'm alive! To be honest, I was about to give up on the story because I lost my laptop. I had two chapters written along with my timeline, all my ideas, info, and drafts. I was thoroughly demotivated when I tried to write because I felt unable to capture the essence of the lost chapters. That lasted until my favourite band KARD, released a new album (check out Red Moon and Go Baby, they are lit af). Coincidentally, it is the band that has motivated me so many times to keep writing so I am thankful to them and to all of you for not giving up on me. Thank you!
I also want to apologize to all those people that sent me messages because I haven't entered the site for a while now. I want to give a special thanks to Silver Wolf for his review, I guess it was exactly what I needed. By the way, I love my virgin genius Harry ;)
"Come on Louie, go and bother someone else," Harry told the ginger cat on his lap, who was blocking his book. The cat did not budge so he had to lift him, only for the feline to jump into his lap again. "Okay, what do you want?" He decided to give up on trying to read and comply with whatever his whimsical cat wanted.
Louie simply jumped to the floor and began walking, looking back in order to see if the boy was following. Harry sometimes wondered how smart the cat really was because it sometimes acted more like a person than a feline. However, moments like this reminded the boy that Louie was a cat at heart, capricious and quite temperamental. In spite of this, he couldn't gather enough energy to actually feel exasperated by his cat's antics. Last night's ritual had been exhausting and a good night's sleep was unable to help him recover.
Absentmindedly, his finger traced the mark on his chest. Only the memory of a sharp pain reminding him that it was indeed real and not a wistful dream. Despite of the new feature on his body, Harry felt no different... Well, maybe he felt more relaxed because he could now feel his friends' magic and knew they were safe.
The pair continued walking until they were near the parlour, the noise carrying into the hallway. He took a deep breath to steel his nerves for the socialization he would be submitted for the day because that is the only reason why aunt Eleadora or his sister would have sent his cat to retrieve him – his elves loved him too much to interrupt his limited library time. However, for the life of him, Harry didn't know why he had the uncomfortable sensation of forgetting something.
He entered the room with almost inaudible steps and had the urge of facepalm when he saw a woman who was having an animated conversation with aunt Eleadora. Yes, he had definitely forgotten something important.
"Good Morning, Mrs Finch-Fletchey," Harry greeted Justin's mum, plastering a polite smile on his face.
"Harry!" The woman exclaimed and encased him in a warm hug that was not necessarily welcomed, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. "How many times do I have to tell you to call me Katy or Aunt Katy. Never mind, we were having a fascinating conversation with Dora."
Harry could only sigh at the enthusiastic woman, yet he was unable to hide his smile. He noticed that Neville was sitting beside aunt Eleadora and that there was no one else in the room. How curious is that?
"Where are the others?" he asked Neville, who, for some strange reason, looked particularly nervous.
"They went out to train and Fleur decided to go touring with her family."
Seeing how uncomfortable Neville seemed to be, Harry sat beside him and placed a hand on his knee. His friend still seemed to be anxious, but at least his shoulders relaxed a little.
"Now that you are here, there are some things that we need to talk about," aunt Eleadora said, her usually gentle visage turned serious. "Katy finally managed to find a treatment for Neville's parents, but we need both of you to be aware that neither of them may return to how they were before the incident."
"Why are they like that?" Neville asked whisper, not daring to look away from his hands.
"We don't know," Justin's mum sighed, her brow furrowing slightly. "We ran every test you can imagine but we are still not sure why are they in that state. Their pituitary glands are in excellent conditions, by all means, the production of neurotransmitters should be normal but it is not. They only produce enough to survive," the woman took a deep breath before continuing. "Remember when I said that it was a good idea to allow your cat into the hospital? It is because you mentioned that it was your mother's cat and I wanted to see if Alice was able to remember it. Besides, even if she wasn't, pets trigger the release of dopamine and oxytocin. I was pleasantly surprised when Alice, and even Frank began reacting to Louie. However, their production of neurotransmitters only increases when they have visits or when Louie stays with them. Even then, it is not enough to be considered a treatment."
"Which means that being in a hospital with minimum interaction was one of the worst things that happened to them. Does this mean that their therapy will include some kind of socialization?" Harry asked, his mind jumping between different possible scenarios.
"Basically, along with other elements. I was considering the use of artificial neurotransmitters along with a gentle reintegration therapy. The problem is that there are no studies on long-term use of those, so it is a rather risky gamble. However, we have another option. The potions in the magical world tend to be less harmful with long term use than the drugs in the muggle world."
"There is no specific potion to treat Neville's parents, but I can find a way of making them more effective," aunt Eleadora promised. They seemed to have everything planned out, so what they really wanted from him, Harry wondered. Apparently, it showed in his expression. "I will need many ingredients that can only be found in the sanctuary and in the greenhouses for experimentation."
"You have free access, aunt Eleadora," was Harry's automatic response.
"I was also wondering if you could assign two of your little guys to Frank and Alice. Preferably, if they are familiar with them." Ah, so that was it. He was particularly protective of his elves and Justin's mum knew so.
"If there are volunteers, I don't mind. But, wouldn't the Longbottom elf be better?"
"Ehm, the thing is that Babbly is bonded with grandma so he won't keep the secret," Neville answered, looking a bit sheepish.
"It seems simple enough, and even though we are not sure what the results will be, I am hopeful," Harry said after a second of deliberation, still not understanding why his aunt wanted him present in the conversation when everything was sorted out already.
"The thing, dear, is that we are basically committing major treason against the Statue of Secrecy," Eleadora explained with a heavy sigh.
Aha! So that was the problem, it was almost enough to make him laugh. Almost. "You always say that I need to act more like a teenager and give you a headache every once in a while."
"I meant getting a body modification, colouring your hair, or maybe sneaking out to make rituals with your friends. The normal stuff, not committing a major felony," his aunt sighed, though there was a small smile playing on her lips. "I hate to say this, but you inherited James' penchant for rule-breaking."
"And my mum's brains to not get in trouble for it, so don't worry," Harry told his aunt, smiling at the exasperated woman. Justin's mum looked far too calm for some strange reason. "Mrs Flinch-Fletchey, would you like to go to the greenhouses? I'm sure Justin is over there, cataloguing the properties of all the plants. Again."
"I already told you to call me Katy. Never mind, let's go!"
Harry pulled a smiling Neville with them while he explained a bit about the basics of potion-making to Justin's mum. Aunt Eleadora followed close behind, muttering about incorrigible Potters.
The sharp chime of the opening lift echoed in the dark hallway, breaking the calm silence. The large group finally arrived at the end of the hallway, where a plain door opened, revealing another room. Oil lamps in the walls faintly illuminated the circular room with twelve handless doors. Silently, the group divided itself and entered the closest rooms.
From the moment Harry stepped inside, he could feel the violent magic emanating from the room and forced himself to take a deep breath before reacting. Luna was right, time turners were a crime against Mother Magic. He could almost taste the rotten aura that they emanated. Luna was beside him, panting heavily, and he suspected that she had lost all colour but her mask was in place and he wasn't able to confirm anything.
"Take her out," he ordered Blaise, who complied without a word. In any other situation, the dreamy girl may have put on a fight, but not today.
Harry had sent his elves to drug all the unspeakables on the morning shift in order to avoid needless casualties. Then, his elves simply popped them to the coffee room that the unspeakable used. From thereon, he simply loaned one of the workers wands in order for the lift to take them to level nine. For some reason, his elves were still unable to feel the place, which meant they couldn't safely pop in. The aurors patrolling the lower levels were still jumpy because of the previous attack, but they were expecting a violent raid, not a silent infiltration so the security was not present in the last three levels. It was awfully careless of them and terribly convenient for him. The only problem was that they didn't have much time.
Ares and Mars were in charge of creating a distraction that would give them enough time for the place to be utterly destroyed. Thinking about it, that decision may have been a miscalculation on Harry's side. Especially considering their arsonist tendencies. Oh, well, too late to regret it now.
He raised his wand and created a barrier around him, then, he willed his wand to create enough fiendfyre to destroy everything in the room. It was, ironically enough, refreshing. As the time turners burnt, he could feel his magic relaxing and the toxic aura of the place dissipating. He did not allow the fire to die down until there was nothing but cinders left. Then, he banished them and cast a bombarda to finish destroying the room. At that moment, he realized he might be just like any other teenager, releasing stress through aggression and mindless destruction. Such an invigorating experience should be repeated, he would find a way of doing so in less life-threatening conditions.
The moment he stepped out of the room, the door crumbled and only plain stone was left in its place. Curious.
"Harry, we can't destroy this room," George told him between pants and signalled the only door left.
When he entered, the sight that greeted him was a bit comical. Many of his friends trying to fire curses at the still beating hearts on the wall, only for a shield to absorb them and return them in earnest. Perhaps he would have been more amused had he not felt the wrongness of the place. It was not inherently evil as the time turner room, it was simply unnatural.
It may have to do with the beating hearts, or the fountain in the middle of the room that contained a liquid that looked suspiciously similar to Amortentia. It was simply wrong, yet familiar. The shields that the hearts were able to create resembled the warm protection that his mother had left behind. Suddenly, it clicked.
"Step back," he whispered, yet his friends managed to hear him.
Taking a deep breath, he pocketed his wand. He felt his magic thrumming in his core, trying to help him. He willed his magic to clash with the magic of the room. For any onlooker, it would simply appear as if he was standing in the room. However, any magical worth its salt would immediately feel the violent clash of magic, viciously fighting against each other. The aura that the invisible battle cast was so oppressive that the other witnesses had been forced to leave the room.
Harry felt his muscles trembling in exertion and sweat pearl his forehead. He willed his magic to give one last push and the protection around the hearts crumbled at last. Yet, he was unable to erase that sense of wrongness that began suffocating him. Without a thought, he took out his wand and willed the fiendfyre to consume the room. He walked back outside, fighting with his body to keep on walking despite of the dizziness.
The world stopped spinning once Harry was back in the lift, with Neville supporting him.
"How long?" Harry asked after taking a deep breath, trying to regain control of his body.
"We have ten minutes," Theo confirmed, his wand was ready on his hand.
"Good."
The chime of the lift signalled the Court's arrival to the eighth level. Immediately they began working. Theo and George began carving runes on the floor while the others worked on raising shields for the room. Harry was still leaning on Neville while slowly recovering.
"What happened?" asked Daphne in a hurried breath.
"I am not sure myself," Harry muttered, containing his desire to sigh.
"What was that room?" Blaise asked, approaching the group.
"According to the papers, it is the Love chamber," Harry said, almost snorting at the notion. "They studied self-sacrificial magic, not love."
"How do you know that?" Harry could swear that, under the mask, Daphne was frowning.
"I could feel it. It's the same protection that my mother left behind."
Harry leaned back on the wall, hinting his friends that he no longer wanted to talk about the matter. He felt drained and only a good nap would restore his energy, but that was not the only reason. What had happened in that room was something that not even he could explain. He could feel it in his magic. That room was wrong.
Unlike the warm protection that his parents left behind, that magic was unstable, pugnacious, and simply wrong. It was not natural.
He had no idea how they had obtained all those hearts and the magic attached to them, but the protection was not meant for them, hence the unstable magic. That was his only theory for the moment. Maybe in a future he would think more about this, but not now.
"Harry, there are persons in the tenth level," Luna whispered and the teen could almost hear her question at the matter. What should they do?
"They deserve it," Neville answered instead, there was no hesitation in his voice. Harry was sure that behind his mask, his friend's face was set in stone. It was hard to reconcile the gentle side of Neville with his ruthless nature. A strange dichotomy that he liked more than a little.
"We both know of the experiments that take place in the tenth level, it's for the best," Harry decided to tell Luna.
"I know."
Harry only patted the girl's arm at her despondent sigh. He was sure that there was something she was not telling him, but if it was important Luna would tell him when she was ready. Otherwise, she was her own person and he would respect her privacy.
"It is done," Fleur announced, helping a tired Draco to walk in a straight line.
"Let's go home then."
Amelia took a sip of her coffee while she waited. The day was only starting and she already knew it was going to suck. If the grand Wizengamot meeting was not enough, today also happened to be the day the Gringotts analysts gave the final results of the goblet's examination. In her humble opinion, it was a vain effort to find the responsible for entering Harry's name in the competition, but she had to try.
Moody's research had no results, as shocking as it was. The whole castle was searched, the personnel questioned, and their backgrounds checked. Nothing. The older students were interviewed along with all the prefects. Nothing. There was absolutely no clue about the identity of the responsible. Moody swore and perjured that he was missing something, but for the life of him, he had no idea what. Neither did she for the matter. In any case, it was no longer a matter of vital importance.
She had been a witness of Harry Potter's prowess and knew that the boy was more than capable to take care of himself during the tasks. Amelia's main worry had nothing to do with his performance in the Tournament, but on the reason why the last Potter was entered to the competition. Even if it was because of nothing else than a joke, she needed to know in order to have some peace of mind. That and Moody was driving her nuts with all his nagging.
"You have to eat," Sirius muttered, breaking her train of thoughts. "We have a long day ahead of us."
"Bah, Malfoy and Blair will keep the idiots in check," Moody snapped, eyeing the scones with wariness while Amelia groaned.
"You forget that I have to deal with those idiots. Politics don't allow me the same freedom."
"That is your problem, not mine."
"Remind me then who will be the talk of the town after the meeting today," Amelia retorted, smiling at the souring expression of the man.
The bright green light that emanated from the fireplace was enough to interrupt whatever Moody wanted to say, much to his chagrin. Amelia would store the memory to enjoy later because now there were matters to take care of.
"Good morning, Miss Adams, please take a seat."
"Minister Bones, Auror Moody, Lord Black." The serious woman nodded at each one as greeting.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Amelia offered the newcomer, signalling the table in the middle with all the available options.
"I'd rather not," the tall woman stated and went straight to business, taking out three folders from her briefcase and handing them. "We examined every spell and rune on the Goblet and I don't have good news. The artefact was created with no apparent regard towards the safety of the champions, solely orientated to selecting the competitors and ensuring they don't leave the Tournament.
"As you know, it was created by the three headmasters of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang in 1294. Those were dark times and the old clans and magical families had quite an influence on how the schools were run because they provided protection against muggles. This meant that, if their heirs were chosen but decided not to compete, things would go quite sour. In order to prevent all the drama, we believe that the headmasters enchanted the goblet to choose the three students with the most intent to compete. That is the reason why the Goblet of Fire adheres to the magical core of the students because intent is trans-"
"Intent is translated into magic," Sirius completed the phrase. Even Amelia admitted that the stony expression on her boyfriend's face made her uncomfortable.
"So that is how the magical contract is created, eh?" Moody asked rhetorically.
"It is not really a contract, per se. More like the unwitting, or perhaps not, creation of a magical leech that stops affecting the champions once the Goblet goes dormant again. Which basically forces the chosen students to participate unless they want their cores to be consumed for not following the, uhm, vague parameters that the artefact enforces."
"Then how my godson's name ended up being chosen?" Sirius asked in a faux gentle tone that sent shivers down Amelia's spine.
"I was going to that, Lord Black," the woman said, looking unaffected and taking out a small glass box from her suitcase. "The parchment with Mister Potter's name holds an overwhelming amount of magic. However," Miss Adams said before Sirius interrupted her, "it only holds his magical imprint."
"Would you be as kind as to explain what that means exactly?" Amelia asked before her boyfriend lost whatever patience he possessed.
"Ah, of course. Intent translates to magic because it's the trigger for us to be able to use it. However, once magic leaves your body it's no longer bound to your intent because you can no longer control it. What is left is the nature of your desire and how it affects reality, simple, really." Judging by Sirius confused expression, Amelia wasn't the only one lost.
"I'm gonna gut those bloody wankers," Alastor hissed, though he sounded more surprised than angry.
"What just happened?" Sirius almost growled, frowning at the man.
"Don't you see? That slimy cockroach had access, and even contact with your godson! That little blighter managed to evade me. Me! And the worst of all is that the little shit didn't even leave the castle!"
Amelia placed a hand on Sirius' forearm and forced him to take a step back. Alastor was in one of his moods. She would need to contact Edgar for him to pick up his crazy husband before he went on a hunting spree. Again.
"Allow me to explain," Miss Adams offered, unaffected by Moody's manic mutters. "The parchment still carries Mister Potter's magical imprint, but not his signature. The difference is that the latter happens when a person uses magic on an object while the former is consequence of the magic used. For example, a mage leaves its magical signature on the object or person it enchants while the place and surrounding objects are tainted with its magical imprint during the process. Do you need another example?"
"Does that mean someone placed the parchment in a place where Harry used magic and then put it in the Goblet?" Sirius asked, his face lost all colour and he looked torn between homicidal anger and something else that Amelia wasn't sure she wanted to decipher.
"Basically. The problem is that magical imprints last two days at most unless properly conserved. The connection should have already faded, but the Goblet still registers four champions."
Amelia only felt the cold liquid splash her trousers when her numb fingers could no longer hold her cup. The rising liquid in her throat was definitely bile. She knew she shouldn't have eaten. The sound of the table cracking under Sirius' fist was enough to return her some semblance of composure. She was the bloody Minister, Merlin be damned!
"Don't you have any protections on it?" Amelia decided to ask after taking a deep breath.
"We are not allowed to take any wizard owned relic without said wizard or his heir's consent to Gringotts. We had to literally visit the school whenever we needed to take another look to the Goblet. However, we safeguarded a room in the castle. Manager Ragnok was so angry by the security breach that half of the team was fired and the others were questioned. Unfortunately, the mistake is not on our side."
"Hogwarts has thousands of hidden passages. The responsible may have found one that led them to the room. Haven't you thought of changing it?" Sirius asked in a tone that implied the stupidity of the person in charge. Amelia was quite sure that she didn't like this side of the no longer sweet man.
"We did so. Five times to be exact," Miss Adams answered with a gentle smile. "The Goblet is still being fed. We no longer know what to do and we can't place stronger wards or we risk the magic of the artefact being severed from the champions' core and we won't risk the children." This time the woman's demeanour changed and her eyes flashed in challenge.
"What will happen if the magic stops being fed?" Amelia asked, more in an effort to distract Sirius than any real curiosity.
"Nothing really. Mister Potter's core is not compromised, unlike the other champions. Magic imprints are heavily polluted, in the long run, they are barely useful. In other words, he will not be affected by the goblet or the tournament in any way." Amelia resisted the urge to punch the woman, couldn't she have started by that and prevented this whole drama?
"Sure, the only threat against him is a psycho stalker who is still in the castle and has access to him," Sirius said in an almost cheery tone that made Miss Adams falter.
"I am not supposed to be telling you this, but I think it would be better for your peace of mind, Lord Black. Mirror summons has made another donation after the beginning of the term and Gringotts was hired to install wards, amongst other things. Manager Ragnok has personally assembled a team of his best hunters and hit wizards to find the responsible. The Goblin nation is not taking well this insult."
Amelia almost cried in relief when Sirius' expression went back to familiar territory. That ruthless side of him was something she didn't want to interact with again. All her relief went down the drain when she recognized what his calm expression was trying to hide. Remorse. Shame. Fear. The ghosts that had tormented Sirius for so long were trying to make a comeback and she would be damned if she allowed it. She placed a gentle hand on his forearm and waited for him to look at her. They just locked gazes and she hoped he was able to understand her tacit message.
"Ignoring the lovebirds, where do you think that the bastard is getting Potter's magical imprint?" Moody almost snarled at the nonplussed woman.
"That is like asking where do pixies live. However, we do have a few suspicions. There are few subjects heavily oriented towards practice. The responsible would only need to take a sample of the object that Mister Potter transformed or enchanted."
"Transfiguration, Defence, Combat Magic, and Charms. Those are the first classrooms I will search. They're the first real clues that I've managed to get in all this skunk dung."
"Indeed. Is there any other question?"
"Harry no longer has to compete, right?" Sirius asked in a small voice, all his anger long gone.
"Not at all. Apparently, he should have never been forced to but we didn't know better. However, I don't think goblins will be happy if Mister Potter decides to leave the Tournament. They hate losing money."
Miss Adams left with those words, not before smiling at Sirius and nodding at the other occupants of the room.
"At least he no longer has to compete." It was a hollow comfort, she knew it.
The room remained silent until Marcus reminded them that there was a grand Wizengamot meeting to attend. Amelia simply cleaned her trousers, only wincing slightly at the sensation of rough fabric against her skin. She composed the best neutral expression she could manage in this situation and squared her shoulders. It was showtime.
When the three of them entered, silence fell into the Wizengamot room. Moody and she walked towards the elevated bench reserved for the Minister, the head of the DMLE, and Chief Warlock. She took her place in the middle and looked around the room. Everyone was watching her and there was a tense atmosphere in the room. Excellent.
"Today we have important matters to discuss," Madam Marchbanks announced, looking as impassive as ever.
"This is not a meeting to chitchat, but one to determine the future of the Ministry," Amelia said in an even tone that was carried around the room. "The Department of Mysteries and the Classified Archives were attacked on the 19th last month. Along with invaluable information and a few artefacts, nothing else was stolen or damaged aside from our reputation. We already know that Voldemort and his group of terrorists are behind the attack, so the next course of action is quite simple. I propose a state of martial law until the criminals are put to justice."
As expected, the room exploded.
She watched with dispassion the chaos in the room. People yelling, thinking that she would listen to them. Others were silent, analyzing the situation. Ah, there were also the ones panicking, namely Voldemort's followers. It was time to kill her heart and begin staging small yet convenient accidents. She was sure that Moody would gladly help. From the corner of her eye, she noticed that Sirius was giving her his silent encouragement. Amelia would thank him later, now there was no space for any kind of emotion.
"Are we ready to continue?" the Chieftess Warlock asked in an even tone after casting an ear-splitting charm that reverberated throughout the room. "Or perhaps you need more time to squabble like children? Minister Bones, you have the word."
"As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted, I propose a state of martial law for multiple reasons. First, Auror Moody is perhaps one of the most capable persons when dealing with Voldemort. However, the bureaucratic process makes his job much harder and time that we don't have will be wasted. Bureaucracy is in the way of our country's safety."
"You are stepping out of place, Minister Bones," Theodred Nott said without waiting to be given the word, not that she expected better. "Our country is managed by politics for a reason and we can no longer afford to drag our good name through the mud like-"
"Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me about that. Britain has turned into the laughing stock of the magical world because of the Tournament. Event that you voted for, am I wrong?" Amelia asked, not bothering to conceal her derisive tone. The old man simply clenched his jaw and glared at her. "Thank you for reminding me, Mister Nott. I almost forgot that the Delacour and Krum heirs are part of the competition and if something happens to them, Voldemort will be the least of our problems."
"Going back to the main matter, I believe that Minister Bones' proposal is sound," Andra announced after Madam Marchbanks gave her the signal to speak. "During the last war, Auror Moody's methods are the ones that made the DMLE more effective. If it wasn't because of all the infiltrators in the Ministry, we would have won the war sooner and not waited for a baby to save us. We are still on time to act against the criminal before he turns into a serious threat."
"I, as a member of a Noble House and a pureblood, am torn in this matter," Lucius said with his usual theatrics. "As a proud member of this body, I want to aid in these hard times. However, as a father, I will do anything for the Dark Lord to be exterminated before my son gets dragged into this war. We already know his methods and soon, the Ministry will be attacked once again from the inside, just like last time. If we allow him more time to plan, I fear that the worse will happen."
"A martial law state will debase our authority. As a descendant of the Founding families, I can't allow that insult!" Yaxley bellowed, his face contorting in anger.
"May I ask what authority are you speaking about?" Augusta asked in a calm tone, her gaze fixated on the man. "The Longbottoms are also descendants of the founding families, and, as far as I am concerned, we are the legislative body and have no authority beyond these walls. However, I am forced to ask the reason for this announcement, Minister. You are in a position to declare martial law and, in this situation, the Wizengamot would be unable to override your decision."
"I am aware," was Amelia's calm answer, "and I have my reasons. When the martial law is declared, this body will dissolve until the whole problem is dealt with. The reason I am making a public announcement is simply a matter of trust. All of the presents in the room are somehow responsible for the whole country, if we begin doing things behind our backs, sooner or later the element of trust will be lost. If we cannot cooperate with each other, then who will protect our country? Will we allow this war to be fought by children once again? I have lost enough because of the incompetence of the previous government, I refuse to follow their footsteps and condemn another generation. We have lost enough."
Amelia watched with detached interest how the ones against her deflated. The emotional card was a dirty trick to play, she was aware. Everyone had lost a loved one during the last war, everyone remembered how useless the Ministry had been. It was enough to push most of the room to the place she wanted. Perfect.
With a sigh, she remembered she would have to actually get breakfast for Marcus for the next month. Damn brat and his strategic abilities. It was a shame that his plan had worked and she wasn't forced to use the intimidation faction. Truly a shame, especially when she noticed Carrow's glare and Nott's homicidal look.
"I believe it's time to vote," Madam Marchbanks announced. "Those in favour, light your wands."
One by one, wands were raised.
It had been easy. Too easy. Amelia felt her gut contorting in an uncomfortable way and knew that this victory would not come free. Her instincts had never failed her before and she felt her anxiety levels rising.
"I believe it is time for Auror Moody to-"
Whatever Madam Marchbanks was beginning to say was interrupted by a sudden earthquake. The floor shook violently and she feared that the whole chamber would collapse under the assault. Damn it!
As sudden as the earthquake came, it left, leaving scared and confused people in the room. The doors were blasted open and she pointed her wand at the intruders, only to lower it and running to them.
"What was that?" she hissed at the pale aurors.
"We don't know ma'am, it came from the lower levels," one said, paling further when he caught a glimpse of a serious Moody.
"Come on, we are going-"
"You have to come with us, sir," the shorter one said, his voice was shaky but his eyes were resolute. "There was a message left in the Atrium."
The minutes that she had to walk towards the Atrium were perhaps the tensest of her whole life. Aurors were running to and fro, not allowing for the workers to leave their places. Thinking about it, they were doing a bloody good job considering that the halls were empty aside from the random patrolling group they crossed.
Amelia crossed glances with Moody and knew he was feeling as apprehensive as she was. Who could leave a message in the Atrium in the middle of the day? Had Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry already? No, definitely not. This wasn't the kind of move that he would pull. This felt more like a warning, a reminder of their weakness.
Her train of thoughts was halted when they arrived at the empty Atrium.
Above the Fountain of Magical Brethren, there was a white glowing symbol. A phoenix and a basilisk in the centre of a complex sigil circle, looking as if they were about to fight. Only Marcus' steady hand on her forearm reminded her that she couldn't have a breakdown with so many witnesses present. This could not be happening, not another dark lord! She had more than enough with one bloody shit already.
She whipped her wand when she saw something descending and someone cast a shield around her. Amelia's heart was beating so fast she wondered if it would stop working once the whole ordeal was over. The small circle of light arrived at the floor and the light dissipated, leaving only different folders behind. No one dared to move.
Alastor took a deep breath and cast a detection charm to the stack. Clean. The man cast spell after spell while the other aurors watched in silence.
"It's clean. Keep the shields up."
Amelia took a deep break and approached the stack of parchments, her wand was ready, just in case. She levitated the single paper above the folders and read it from afar. Her eyes traced the words and she lost whatever colour was left in her face. This could not be happening!
"What happened in the lower levels?" she managed to ask in a voice that could barely be heard.
"We are still not sure ma'am, but it's totally destroyed. Most of the unspeakables in shift were found unconscious on the eighth floor, Shacklebolt's team transported them to the hospital. Everything below level eight is lost."
"Good," she managed to whisper and handed Moody the wrinkled note. When had she grabbed it?
"Clean the place but keep the patrolling teams up," she ordered to the auror closes to her, raising her voice so everyone could hear. "Not a word will be spoken about what happened here and no files will be written."
She looked at the glowing symbol, only to discover that it was gone. Well, at least it was one less thing to take care of.
"Do you think it's real?" Alastor whispered, holding the note with excessive force.
"I don't know. Shacklebolt will be in charge of examining what is left of the lower levels while we take a look at these papers."
An almost hysterical giggle left her chest. Yep, she was definitely right. The day sucked.
Harry took a deep, calming breath. Today, he felt unusually nervous, but he guessed it was understandable in this situation.
Today he was finally going to visit the Potter Vaults and retrieve the family Grimoire. Something he had been planning to do since he was declared a legal adult. The latter was far more important to him than the former by a wide margin. Learning his family magic was something he had wanted to do since he discovered its existence so he was eager to begin. However, he was still not sure if the Potter Grimoire would accept him.
It was not strange for a family grimoire to reject members of the family, it simply happened and no one really knew why. Magic was whimsical like that.
"Harry," Elizabeth whispered on his ear, bringing him back to reality.
He gave her a small smile in an effort to put her at ease. Right, he couldn't afford to show his boredom. It was hardly his fault though, the meeting was even more tedious than the Wizengamot session that he had attended that one time.
Ploutos, along with the other elves in charge of business, were having a heated conversation with Ragnok and his assistants, Gornuk and Bogrod. While Harry was good with numbers, all the logistics and overcomplicated business plans made his head ache. With no amount of shame, he admitted that he was totally lost in the meeting that he was forced to attend by Rome. Personally, he was not really interested in making money, only in pulling the magical world out of its stagnation. However, if he had to attend more meeting like this, then he would find another way.
"That is the last topic of our agenda. We will be meeting next month to discuss the new branch offices of the subsidiary brands. Meeting adjourned," Ragnok declared, much to Harry's relief.
The elves and the bank employees said their brief farewells as Harry waited, nodding at his elves in silent gratitude for their efforts.
"I think I'll also leave," Elizabeth murmured, startling him.
"Why?"
"You have to visit the family Vault, it's an important day. Besides, I wanted to show Cleo some things I bought when I visited the muggle side of the Tribes."
"Let's meet at the cafe in an hour," Harry sighed, knowing he wouldn't change the girl's mind.
"I see that you enjoyed the meeting," Ragnok said with clear amusement. That sadist.
"That is why teens are not involved in these kinds of things."
Really, he was only fourteen. Ploutos and Ragnok could take care of everything, but no. He had to learn how to manage the family business. Why had he even thought that being involved in the business world was a good idea? Ah, that's right, he didn't think. Harry cursed his younger self.
"We were waiting for you to become an adult."
"I really hate you," Harry said with fake cheerfulness, almost pouting at the satisfied smirk that the goblin gave him. "Never in my life I considered four hours to be much until today. I will be happy if I don't have to participate again."
"I promise nothing," Ragnok said, looking far too satisfied for Harry's peace of mind. "To the vaults?"
"Right. So how you solved the personnel issue in the branch offices?" If you can't fight them, join them. Harry changed tactics and followed the man out of his office.
"You really didn't pay attention," Ragnok said, looking quite exasperated. "We got house-elves, but instead of bonding them with the family, we bonded them with the place."
"Isn't that the same system that Hogwarts use?" Harry asked, receiving a nod in response and frowning at the answer.
"It's safe," Ragnok said once he noticed the teen's stormy expression. "They draw magic from the wards."
"Good. I also heard about the potion ingredients stores, how is that going?"
"Not as well. Aside from Europe, only the Asian Empire has accepted to open a potion ingredients store. We have tried other countries, but we have only received negative answers so we have to be satisfied with exporting the materials to different suppliers."
"Is it because of the price?"
"The demand, actually. The sanctuary provides willingly given animal materials, something that any potioneer worth its salt would buy over any other ingredient. It would also be invaluable for wand-making."
"So it's not convenient for the local production," Harry concluded.
"That and the many important names that make their money through potion ingredients. They don't have problems in reselling our products, but the competition is never welcomed. After you."
Harry only sighed and got in the cart, ready for the unpleasant trip to the Potter Vaults. The cart began moving and Harry took a deep breath and fixed his gaze on his hands.
Three hundred and seventy-four breaths are how long it took to arrive. His body was so confused by the dozens of twists, turns, and only Morgana knows what else, that he had to take a moment so the floor could stop moving. Thankfully, he hadn't eaten breakfast or this would be a hundred times more embarrassing.
"Don't worry, the trip was not easy," Ragnok wheezed, looking quite nauseous himself. "I forgot how much I hated to come down here."
Harry could only grunt in response and began examining his surroundings. Not that there was much to see. The cart stopped right before the rail ended, in front of a rather rustic, not to say antiquated door. Aside from that, there were only two rock walls, nothing else.
"So this is the Potter Vault."
"The oldest one in the bank."
Harry knew so.
Ignacius Potter had been the head of the family when Gringotts was founded. Those were shaky times, goblins were not trusted and the favour was returned. The only reason why the Ministry allowed the bank to be founded was to stop the possible war between species. Ideally, mages would have never trusted goblins with their gold and the Goblin Nation would have been secluded. At least those were the Ministry's plans.
Of course, the Potters had never been known for doing others biding. Ignacius had – quite publically, if Harry may add – been the first client of the bank. The Potters were not spectacularly rich, but they were stable and had a reputation for siring talented children and their unrivalled potions. It also helped that they were known as purebloods despite of never intermarrying.
That decision marked a before and an after for the family.
The goblins are not the nicest people, it is in their nature to be hostile. However, it is also in their nature to be loyal and in their values to be honourable. Gringotts himself acknowledged the trust that Ignacius had given his people, even if that was not his original intention. Therefore, he was offered help from the bank.
Seeing as the Potter wealth only increased since he began dealing with the bank, other mages followed his example. Of course, there were also a few others who tried to break in the bank and steal the gold. That is how Gringotts earned its reputation as the safest place in Magical Britain.
Harry's ancestor eventually turned into a friend of the Goblin Nation, thus, he was offered special services – such as a goblin that helped him with his finances, among other benefits. Only a few families, say rich ones, were offered the same option. This is where common sense played the most important role. Mages showed their clear distaste for goblins, consequently, the fees for the extra services rose. The intelligent ones managed to connect the dots and began using Gringotts as a glorified storage, deciding to forego any external aid, but keeping a manger for appearance sakes.
Their stupidity aided the ascension of the Potters to power and the rest was history.
"Put your hand on the door," Ragnok said, immediately breaking Harry out of his thoughts.
The teen simply nodded and placed his hand between the handles, where there was a free space on the otherwise overly adorned door. Harry almost shuddered at the sensation of alien magic interacting with his own. What a bizarre experience.
There was no smoke or any other impressive effect when the door opened. There was a click that resounded in the empty corridor and that was it. The door only opened enough to allow one person. Harry took a careful step inside and examined his surroundings. His first impression of the vault was that the one that had decorated had been overly fond of the old Slytherin common room.
The torches bathed the Vault in a green light, illuminating the almost empty room. The left wall was formed by innumerable precious stones, or at least Harry assumed that was the case because he couldn't see any other thing than overvalued rocks. The left wall, curiously, was formed by precious metals. On the back of the room, there was a single lectern made out of some dark material, where a single book rested.
Harry took a deep breath and began approaching it. When he was a few steps away, words began forming on the dark stone of the wall.
Welcome, young Potter.
If you are here, it means that the wards approve of you, but that does not mean that the family magic does.
The Potter family has humble beginnings, thus we know of hardships from firsthand experience. These hardships are what formed our family motto: Noblesse Oblige. As part of this family, is your duty to protect the less privileged, as we once were in that position. As a Potter, is in your blood to protect Mother Magic in all her forms.
Mother Magic did not select our blood to carry any special ability, no. We were chosen to carry her blessing. Our connection with her is our greatest treasure.
This Grimoire contains all the knowledge that the family managed to acquire throughout time. It is your decision whether you want to learn. But beware, dear child, if you offended magic in any way, you will not be allowed to learn the family secrets. Only open the Grimoire when you are ready or you might lose your birthright.
Never forget to respect Mother Magic in all her forms and the respect shall be returned.
Protect our legacy,
Ignacius Potter
As if Harry was not anxious enough, the message had to fray his nerves further.
"Now or never," he whispered to himself and placed a hand on the book.
Nothing happened.
Carefully, Harry flipped open the Grimoire, expecting some kind of backlash but absolutely nothing happened. He examined the open page only to discover that is was written in some old language that he was unable to understand, so he leafed through the pages until he found something he could understand.
Potions. Pages and pages of potions, along with different methods to brew them along with particularly specific ingredients. There were also some spells and artefacts, along with the instructions on how to recreate them. Every single piece of knowledge had its history – the reason why it had been created and its original purpose.
There was so much to read that Harry was positively overwhelmed. At least the Grimoire had accepted him. Right? He looked for Ragnok in order to ask the man if he could explain more about the Grimoire and the Vault in general, but the goblin was looking at him with an expression he had never shown before. Wistfulness.
"You remind me so much of Charlus and Frederick," Ragnok sighed when he noticed Harry's curious gaze. "Frederick was your grandfather's grandfather. Just like you, he was forced to take care of the family when he was young. He married the youngest daughter of the Czar, Evgenia Tserova. Both worked incessantly to protect the Potter Family and expand its influence. They were quite successful, as you may know.
"Their daughter, Olivia, died a few days before turning an adult because of a potion accident. Their son, Henry, was far more interested in trying to force the Ministry into acknowledging muggles as people. He failed, obviously. The boy was quite brash, but he had a good heart. Henry married a muggle healer. I never met her, but I know that she helped him to develop different potions. Then, your grandfather was born.
"I met Charlus since he was a toddler, tripping on his own feet when he tried to follow his father around. He was a close friend of mine. It is good to see that the Family is on good hands."
"How did you met my father?" Harry asked quietly.
"When he was an unruly toddler. Dorea never allowed him to follow Charlus again," the man said with a soft chuckle. "I never got the opportunity to really deal with him. A shame, he became the kind of person that Frederick would be proud of."
"So, why is there no money in here?" The teen decided to change topics in order to snap back the goblin of his melancholic mood to a more familiar territory.
"What is the real value of money?" Ragnok asked instead and Harry immediately understood what the man meant. "That is right, real wealth has little to do with money. The Potter Vault was designed to represent part of the material wealth that the family holds. As you can see, the family ideals and the knowledge of your ancestors are the family's real treasure."
"I guess we can leave now," Harry said after a moment of silence, deciding to take the Grimoire with him.
Both walked out of the vault and the doors closed after them. The cart ride was as unpleasant as the first time, so Harry only clenched his teeth and dealt with the after-effects in silence.
"If you don't mind, I will leave you on your own from here," Ragnok said, looking worse than Harry felt. The teen took a step back just in case.
"I know the way, rest well, Ragnok."
"Don't forget that no one else is allowed to see the grimoire."
"I know, don't worry. Go to your abode before you end up throwing up in the corridors," Harry said and the goblin nodded absently. "Don't forget to greet your wife!"
The teen chuckled and left with long strides before the goblin magically felt better and began scolding him for charming his wife. In his defence, Karrig was a charming woman who happened to enjoy the same tea as he did and made the best underground mushroom toast he had ever tasted. Granted, it was the only underground mushroom toast he had tasted, but it was really good.
Before opening the doors, Harry put the grimoire in his messenger back and had the urge to go to the castle so it was safe. However, he had promised to meet with his sister first.
Oh well, this would be a lesson to remember. Never make plans after Gringotts.
Hermione Granger had always considered her brains to be her main attribute. Therefore, she had always done her best to excel in that area because she knew that all others were an effort in futility. Thanks to this, she had been the perfect student and daughter, not to forget the ostracized child who the bullies targeted and the other children avoided during school. Despite of this, no one could dispute her intelligence.
This situation had lasted until the day she arrived at Hogwarts. The magical school had been her greatest illusion that had nothing to do with the new world she had been introduced to. No, she had hoped to find people similar to her and hopefully, have her first friend. As always, plans never went as she wished.
The only person that had accepted her in a compartment had been a chubby and shy boy, who she immediately knew would be at the bottom of the social pyramid. Perhaps those movies she had seen had influenced her young mind because she had been far too scathing with the boy in an effort to act like the 'cool kids'. After that, Neville Longbottom had avoided her like the plague... How ironic, the unpopular boy had become a member of the elite clique of Hogwarts while she remained the shunned nerd.
If that was not enough, she had met the bane of her existence that same evening.
Harry Potter. The hero of the wizarding world. The handsome boy who had the majority of the girl's (and many boys) drooling. The boy who had the gall to best her in every single subject despite her best efforts. The popular student with an entourage of friends and was treated like a king in the school. In summary, the kind of person she had always wished to be.
Through these years, she had studied without respite and yet, she had been bested by the boy who barely paid attention to classes. Harry Potter had stolen her place as the best student and as the teacher's favourite without the slightest effort and that fact made her blood boil.
The worst part of everything is that he didn't even seem to care.
If that was not enough, fate had a cruel sense of humour by always putting him on her path.
Ginny and she had agreed to meet in one of the cafés in Diagon Alley. The youngest Weasley had been ecstatic because she had earned a bit of pocket money by helping her eldest brother to do his paperwork, which meant she would finally try one of the famous new places. The day had been meant to be a great outing with her friend. But of course, Harry Potter had to also ruin this!
The boy was sitting in the reserved section of the café, having a date with one of those basic pretty girls. Ha! She knew he had the playboy reputation for a reason!
To her great shame, Hermione admitted almost ogling Potter during the Yule Ball. To her defence, and great mortification, she had been amongst the fifty percent of the student population who had done just that. The other half had been too occupied ogling his date. Together, they had eclipsed the attention for the whole event.
Many students had busted into tears because they were unable to compete against that exotic beauty for Potter's attention. There were rumours of her being his fiancée and even more ridiculous ones about that girl being a royal. However, the whole student body had reached a unanimous conclusion: Harry Potter was dating her.
She almost itched to tell Lavender and Parvati how that boy was dating another girl at the same time... If her memory did not fail her, thing that never happened, it also happened to be the person who had been Viktor Krum's date. What a bastard! He did not even respect his friend's dates!
"Hermione, what are you looking at?" Ginny asked, poking her arm in order to gain her attention.
"Potter is having a date," she almost barked, glaring at the couple.
The black-haired beauty was making faces at him as she tried to feed him a spoonful of some kind of dessert. The boy was rejecting the treat until she whispered something in his ear, making him smirk and accept the sweet. Potter then proceeded to take the girl's hand and plant a chaste kiss, looking with fondness at the smiling girl. Hermione huffed at the ridiculous display and looked at her friend in order to distract herself, almost grimacing at how dejected the younger girl seemed. Right, she had forgotten that Ginny had a severe crush on that odious boy.
"I thought he was dating the girl from the ball," Ginny whispered once she noticed her stare. "It seems he only likes pretty girls from wealthy families."
"He is a player," Hermione told her downcast friend. "Besides, you are pretty."
"But not pretty enough," the red girl sighed, glaring at the table. "Of course, he will never settle for anyone less than him."
"Ginny, she is not better-"
"Look at her clothes, Hermione!" the younger girl hissed, trying to keep her tone even. "Look at the jewellery she's using... She's also pretty. I know that he will never look at me the way he looks at her, but I can't stop hoping."
"Don't waste your time on him," she almost pleaded to her friend, but gave up when she noticed the longing in Ginny's eyes. "Let's go, your mum said that your brothers will be arriving early for the family dinner."
The redhead followed her without a word and the self-deprecating thoughts could almost be heard, Hermione was about to berate her friend when she crashed into someone. She felt her cheeks heating up in shame and was about to apologize when she noticed those vivid green eyes that had haunted her for countless nights were far too close for her comfort. A firm, yet gentle hand helped stabilize and she recoiled as if she had been slapped instead. She looked up only to find Potter staring at her with a raised eyebrow.
"I apologize; I was not looking where I was going," that annoying honeyed voice said and the owner of it had the nerve to look concerned.
"Obviously," she said, unable to suppress her sneer and ignoring how Ginny grabbed her forearm in an attempt to calm her down.
"You know each other?" the petite girl asked, judging Hermione with her gaze.
"We have not, but I will do you a favour," Hermione said, unable to control the irrational spite that bubbled in her core. "Don't date him,"
The girl's sole reaction was raising an unimpressed eyebrow and snaking her arm around Potter's waist, closing the minimal space between them and smirking at her.
"I don't see how my personal life affects you," Harry said as his hand travelled to his companion's shoulder.
"Let's go," the girl whispered, ignoring their audience. "When we arrive at the castle I will give you what I promised... I am sure that we will enjoy what remains from our day."
Potter smirked and the couple left, not even bothering to look back. Hermione was left open-mouthed at such a blatant display and, as her brain processed the information, her cheeks heated in mortification. She allowed Ginny to drag her out of the café, only to see the lovebirds in a compromising position. Potter had his arms around the girl, one on her lower back and other on her neck, while his victim was burying her face on his chest. This remained until a strange creature broke them apart and they disappeared inside a store. She would research the creature later.
"I told you he is a playboy!" Hermione told her blushing friend and was about to rant when she noticed her companion's teary eyes. With a sigh, she decided the matter go for the moment, "come on, we have to find an empty floo terminal and arrive on time unless we want your mom to kill us."
She promised to ruin Potter's reputation with this information, only to wince at imagining how Ginny would react. Once again, that boy had won without even trying.
Though she swore to herself that she would best him and wipe that cocky smirk out of his face, sooner rather than later.
"Bloody Merlin, that was so embarrassing," Elizabeth whimpered once they left the cafe, her cheeks were tainted a fiery red.
"You didn't have to do that," he said gently, hugging his distressed sister.
"I couldn't let that girl speak to you that way."
"I don't mind. Though all the rumours when I go back to school will be annoying. People will think that I am some kind of playboy," Harry sighed. Life was definitely unfair.
"Sir!" Cleo, one of his elves, exclaimed, looking a bit distressed. "The kids are having trouble controlling their magic again."
Harry only sighed. Having elf toddlers in the family was a blessing, despite of all the messes that they made when they began learning how to use magic. Sadly, he had to take care of it in person as he was the person giving them the magic.
"Let's go then."
To his surprise, the elf led them to the back of the clothing store. Needles were fighting against each other, some being daring enough to try to impale them when they entered. Fabric was flying around, changing colours and patterns. The mannequins were doing... Only Morgana knew what they were doing.
Yes, this was definitely going to be a long day. His only consolation was the promised he had managed to rip from his sister in exchange of taking a bite of that overly sweet ice cream she enjoyed. She will be joining him for a lesson with aunt Eleadora and Flitwick. Those two sadists together, enough said.
He dodged a pair of scissors that threatened to cut his hair off and sighed. At least he was not the only one to suffer, Elizabeth was valiantly battling a mannequin, using a large wooden ruler as a sword.
A.N.: I changed the Potter history to fit my needs. Also, Hermione's part was written before my hiatus last year. It was saved on my PC, which is a fortune because the chapter would have been really different otherwise.
