CHAPTER TITLE: HE WILL TEAR YOUR CITY DOWN

Accompanying Song: "Soldier, Poet, King" by The Oh Hellos

So; Dumbledore was probably hoping to reign him in a bit via his "friends". Expected. But apparently, said friends were a bit less on the old man's side than he'd thought, even counting the whole no-communication for the summer bit.

Well, either that, or Dumbledore had failed to mention what had happened to his relatives. Or Snape. Or the three made-up Death Eaters he'd "killed". Which sounded much more reasonable, now that he thought about it. The Headmaster liked to keep things to himself; especially things like that.

Best to play things safe for now.

He pulled off his Invisibility Cloak, and then rolled it up behind his back. "You know, if people are gonna start talking about me behind my back, then I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to start listening behind theirs."

He barely had time to brace himself before he was being trash-compacted by a patented Hermione Hug. "HARRY! We were so worried! Dumbledore told us your house burned down after some Death Eaters showed up, and that your family didn't make it!"

"Is that all he told you?"

Hermione frowned. "Well, yes. Why? Was there something else?"

"Seems the Order is under the apprehension I took out three of the bastards on my way out and was indirectly responsible for Snape's exit stage right at the hands of Moldy-Shorts. Can't imagine why; it's not like I haven't got a very good reason to start getting rid of people that piss me off. Like the friends that were supposed to write to me this summer."

Hermione had the grace to look ashamed. Ron, being Ron, ignored the last part of his sentence altogether. "Snape's dead? And you arranged it? Bloody hell!"

Hermione reached out and punched him in the shoulder. "Ronald! Language!"

Ron rubbed the impact site vigorously. "Ow! Bloody he…eck, woman! Snape's dead! I think I'm allowed to swear!"

"Professor Snape, Ron."

Harry snorted. "Not anymore. Pretty sure you can't keep teaching once you slip from mostly dead to all dead. Burning the bones of the body tends to keep 'em from coming back as a ghost; so I think we can safely say we won't be seeing Snape again til we get to the Other Side."

Well, unless the bastard had any sentimental effects stashed away in his home down Spinner's End. Like a locket of his mum's hair, or something similar. Eugh…that was a mental image he so did not need.

Hermione shuddered. "Burning alive. What a horrible way to go. Did…did Voldemort…"

Harry held up his hand. "First, I found out there was a damned good reason people didn't use that name back in the first war. Turns out there was a Taboo on it; you say the name, you get a visit. The kind that ends with a new and permanent residence, if you get what I mean."

Hermione gave an 'eep' of surprise, and Ron went pale.

"Second, I didn't stick around long enough to find out what all the Dork Lard did.. Heard the Apparition, looked out the window and saw Snape, high-tailed it out the back."

Hermione's nose scrunched up. "How were you able to get out that fast and still grab all your things?"

"Who said I did? Had to leave Hedwig's cage and my school trunk behind; good thing the old girl was out flying. And as much as I'd have liked to take some of my books along, I can always buy new ones. So, out I went with just my clothes, wand, Cloak, and a few Muggle conveniences I'd stashed just in case."

"Like a World War Two sniper rifle?" Hermione snarked.

"You know a better way to deal with Death Eaters at long range that doesn't get me written up for Underage Magic usage?"

"Well…no." she sheepishly replied.

"Didn't think so. Bit of a waste, though; considering I'm still probably gonna end up hauled to court for all the magic the Death Eaters were throwing around."

Hermione sighed. "Oh, Harry."

"I know, I know, just my luck. Still, at least I had Sirius set me up with a lawyer. Good one, too; offered to take on the case for free."

"How does that equate to good?"

"Sorry, shoulda said trustworthy. Seems trust is pretty hard to come by these days; odds are it was Snape that snitched on my location to Riddle. So much for those all-powerful blood wards, eh?"

He gave a half-hearted laugh.

Hermione swallowed. "Is that why you've been studying magical contracts? To make others keep your secrets?"

"Make? No. I like to keep as much free will around as I can. Team Free Will, that's me. But will I demand certain assurances from those who want to know potentially dangerous things about me? Damn straight."

Ron stared. "…You've changed, mate."

"Yeah, well, you spend a second whole year being called a liar by the entirety of a school, see what it does for you."

"He means more than that, Harry. You're just…well, less…you. Your language, your thought process, even your clothes…"

He looked down. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

Ron gave him a look. "Seriously, dude? Flannel?"

"What? It's warm! Or did you forget we spend nine months out of the year in Scotland?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow imperiously. "And the boots?"

"Ditto, plus they're a good way to hide knives. And before you ask, same goes for the coat and pants. Pockets are good."

"And just where did you get the money to pay for all this?"

He shrugged. "Dudley used to steal cash for his cigarette habit; for once I decided to put it to better use."

Hermione jabbed her finger at him. "See! That's what we're talking about! The old Harry would never have dreamed of stealing from anyone! Or of being prepared to run or fight! What…" she swallowed, "What happened, Harry?"

He gave another shrug. "Can't tell you. Not without those assurances, at least."

Ron's eyes flashed dangerously. "Our word not good enough for you, mate?"

"Not in the least. Not now that I know just how many ways there are to get information from someone unwillingly. A contract will at least put a stop to some of that. But not all. Sorry, mate. But right now, the only person I trust so much as even slightly without signing something is on his way out of the country for the duration of this whole bloody mess. And if I survive, I may just join him afterwards."

"…Sirius is gone?"

Harry swung around. Damn it. "…Yeah, Remus. He's gone."

"…Without telling me?"

"…Let's just say he had certain things pointed out to him that had him doubting which one you trusted more: him, or Dumbledore."

"…I see."

"No, you really don't. Forget about it, Remus; it's over and done with now. He made his decision; if you want to beat yourself up trying to find out why, that's your decision. For my part, I'm going to bed. I been up since twelve last night, and I only got two hours of sleep before that. Anyone so much as even thinks about looking through my stuff without me, I will bury you. Might even have the patience to kill you before I do it. Good night."

Well, that oughta keep anyone from getting any ideas.

It didn't.

"Sonuva bitch!"

They were in the Library. And whoever they were, they were pulling books off the shelves with absolutely no intentions of returning them.

"Alright you scumbags! WHAT! ARE YOU DOING! IN MY SWAMP!"

Huh. That actually worked.

And some of the positions people had frozen in were just downright hilarious.

Tonks was currently standing on a bookshelf, one leg stuck out behind her for balance. It wasn't working.

Mad-Eye was in the back of the room hunched over, a chair leg in his hand. Probably getting ready to pound a doxie into dust; odds were high Harry could still mostly trust him, then.

Molly and Arthur Weasley must've been engaged in a shouting match, judging by how red in the face they both were, as well as how they were practically still glaring at each other. He really didn't think Arthur had it in him; good to know he was wrong.

Remus was standing behind Tonks; obviously worried she was gonna fall (she probably was), and preparing to catch her when she did. All perfectly innocent. He snorted. Sure it was.

Bill and, surprisingly, Fleur, were both much further along in their activities. Each had a stack of volumes in their hands, and had obviously been fixing to head out the door with their liberated cargo.

Right; best put a stop to this before it went any further.

"What's all this, then?"

The room exploded into sound, everyone trying to put in their two cents before anyone else could beat them to it.

Well this wasn't gonna work.

Time for plan two.

BANG!

Silence reigned once more.

SHUNK-SHUNK, SHUNK-CHUNK.

"Let's take it from the top: What's. All. This. Then. You; Weasley Senior. Explain."

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. "It seems that with the arrival of somewhat younger people in this house, that some people", here he glared at his wife once again, "feel that there ought to be a removal of certain materials that they feel are unsuitable and/or unsafe."

Harry swung the Mauser's barrel towards Molly Weasley. "You, red-headed harridan. Explain. As un-condescendingly as you can."

Said harridan forced a grin onto her face; the effect reminded him of an alligator smiling for its lunch. "Harry dear, we were just looking out for your best interests. Such Dark Magic isn't…"

Harry took aim. "Strike two. Care to make it three for three?"

"Oi! Careful where you're pointing that thing! That's my mum!

"I'm well aware of who it is, Bill-iam. In fact, it's the only reason I have yet to pull the trigger again. You have ten seconds to explain why you thought it would be just a dandy idea to try and take from my family's library without either explanation or compensation."

Somehow, Bill managed to go even more still. "…Your family, Harry?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

Bill swallowed. "…Mum, perhaps it would be better if we…left well enough alone."

"WILLIAM! You ought to know better!"

Mad-Eye laughed. "And so he does, woman. Did you not hear? Harry said this place belonged to his family. Sirius made him a Black in name, not just in blood. To give you control of the wards, I wager."

"Among other things."

"Smart as paint, you are lad; smart as paint!"

"I try. Now, since Dumbledore isn't here, and since he was apparently fine with me doing research in here earlier, I'm gonna assume this was your idea, Mrs. Harpy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, if you didn't want your kids around dangerous things, then you shouldn't have brought them? I know for a fact Fred and George have probably read Hogwarts' Restricted Section from one end to the other, and they've managed to avoid being horribly cursed. Ron will only open a book if it's a matter of life or death, which in his case would be an exam. And as for Ginny…I assume she's learned her lesson about opening strange books. In short, your kids are all perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. You, however, are apparently…not. If you try to come in here again, the wards will turn you inside out and then electrocute the remains."

"WHY I NEVER!"

"No ma'am, I don't suppose you have."

Mad-Eye piped up. "And if she tries to get someone else to do her work for her again, lad?"

"Good point. KREACHER!"

POP!

"What bad blood-traitor master's halfblood godson be wanting?"

Harry pointed. "These individuals, minus the man missing an eye and the oldest red-haired one, have attempted to steal from the library of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black."

A crazed gleam entered the House Elf's eye, and he slowly turned to face the rest of the room.

"You are not allowed to hurt them…"

Kreacher went back to sulking.

"…Yet. Your 'bad blood-traitor master' put me in charge; and I say that this was their one warning. If they're successful on stealing from us again, you are permitted to steal all of it back, plus whatever Sickles, Knuts, or Galleons you can find on them to pay for the inconvenience. Even if they're un-successful at trying again, you have my full permission to pour itching powder down their clothes, put glue in their chairs, cayenne pepper in their food, and syrup in their sheets. Understood?"

The little fellow nodded vigorously. "Kreacher's be understanding new half-blood master perfectly. Maybe new half-blood master be better than old one…"

And with that, the insane House Elf popped away.

Harry flicked the safety on the Mauser and slung it back over his shoulder. "Right; any more questions?"

Silence was his only answer.

"Good. Mr. Weasley, if you would be so kind as to escort your wife from the room. Everybody minus Mad-Eye and Tonks clear out as well. That goes double for you, Remus."

If he hadn't been glared at by some of the most powerful beings in all creation, he might actually have shuddered at the look Ms. Weasley was giving me. That woman could peel paint with her voice alone; and he hadn't forgotten just who it was that had finally offed Bellatrix in the original timeline.

Speaking of which, he fully intended to make sure there was no such person as Delphini Riddle this time around. Failing that, he'd raise her himself. He may be dumb, but he wasn't a dumbass. And giving your nemesis' kid every reason not to hate you was just common sense.

When finally it was just Moody, Tonks, and himself left, he turned his full attention back to the pair of Aurors. "Right; Mad-Eye! Am I correct in assuming you tried to talk those dunderheaded idiots out of that truly, monumentally stupid idea?"

"Aye, that you are lad."

"She-Whose-First-Name-Shall-Not-Be-Mentioned Tonks! Am I correct in assuming you ignored the recommendations of your former superior in favor of stealing from the very family you are a part of, name or not?"

"Harry I…"

"Yes or no, Auror Tonks!"

Tonks subconsciously snapped to attention. "Sir, yes sir!"

"Why was that, Auror Tonks?"

"Because I am well-acquainted with your lack of luck, sir, and I wished to remove potential sources of accidents from your path, sir!"

"Auror Moody! Do you find this explanation satisfactory?"

Mad-Eye gave a crocodilian smile. "For the moment. I'll still be sure to assign her something suitably unpleasant as a punishment, though."

"Belay that for now! Since I was so rudely interrupted from my well-deserved rest, I now find myself completely and thoroughly put-out, with no constructive outlet for my rage! Auror Tonks, for the moment, you're on hand-to-hand-training duty with me! Auror Moody, in exchange for what I offered earlier, you will instead be our referee!"

Mad-Eye gave a half-salute. "Sir, yes sir. How long do you expect this training to go?"

"Until one or the other of us collapses from exhaustion."

Tonks snorted.

"Something funny, Auror Tonks?"

"With all due respect, sir, I'm fairly certain I can outlast a schoolboy. Especially one running on next to no sleep."

"We shall see who will outlast who, Auror Tonks. Upstairs! Now!"

Tonks rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Time to put your money where your mouth is, Harry."

"Funny, I was planning on putting something completely different there later."

"HARRY!"

"What? I was talking about pie!"

"…Oh."

He waggled his ears. "Oh dear; did someone have a naughty thought? Oops. And blushing already. Here I was thinking outlasting you might actually be a challenge."

"OH, IT IS ON NOW!"

He ducked under her first swing. "I'd say more than one thing was 'on', if you know what I mean."

"Oooo, you little…!"

"Language, Auror Tonks! One must keep one's cool at all times! For instance…"

He hooked his leg behind hers and twisted.

"When one finds oneself flipped into a compromising position!"

Tonks hit the floor hard, using the impact to bounce herself back his direction. "I'M GONNA KILL YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"See, you really shouldn't verbally threaten your assailants. Gives them an excuse for whatever they may happen to do afterwards in 'self-defense'; like this!"

He brought his right arm across her midsection in a full body-check, and then slammed her once more down onto the training mat.

She tried to throw off his arm and continue the fight…only to come face to face with his German dagger pointed directly between her eyes. "…Harry?"

"If I had been a real opponent, Auror Tonks, you would now be dead! Several times over, in fact! Auror Moody! Would you care to explain, or shall I?"

"Help yourself, laddie."

"Right then! Rule Number One: always assume your assailant is armed and protected far better than you yourself. There is no such thing as overkill. Rule Number Two: never allow your enemy to get under your skin. Literally, or figuratively! A distracted fighter is a dead fighter. Rule Three: If you're not cheating, you're not trying. Life isn't fair; you should take every available opportunity to make sure its unfair in your favor. Rule Four: play to your strengths. You're a Metamorph; that means you can shift your body mass around. Use that to cushion the impact of unavoidable blows, or to put more weight behind strikes of your own. Am I leaving anything out, Auror Moody?"

Mad-Eye scratched his chin. "Well…you might wanna throw in something about minimizing your weaknesses, but other than that…I can't think of nothing."

He nodded. "Got it; minimizing weaknesses. Auror Tonks! What is your weakest area?"

Her eyes "…My balance."

"Thought so. What can you do to minimize it?"

"…I dunno; maybe…dancing lessons?"

"Close. Dancing lessons will make you more graceful, true. But I just remembered Sun Tzu's addendum to Rules Four and Five: show strength where there's weakness, and weakness where there's strength. If you truly want to surprise your opponents, you'll find a way to work your residual lack of balance into your fighting style, instead of working to eliminate it altogether. If we had the time, I'd get you used to fighting on a ship. Sea legs work wonders against landlubbers; especially against the kind stupid enough to fight sailors in bars, if you get what I'm driving at."

Mad-Eye raised his hand. "I know a few charms to mimic swaying floors, if you want me to toss 'em out. Had to teach myself how to fight in case of earthquakes, or if the Muggles decided to start bombing each other again."

His eyes narrowed. "…How much?"

"You let me be the first person to sign that contract you been working on."

"…Done."

He'd have to make it up to Luna later.

Tonks' voice came from underneath him. "Contract?"

He rolled himself to the side and offered her a hand up. "Way to protect our minds from any mind readers. Or loose cannons with Veritaserum and/or compulsion charms. Which reminds me, I need to look into detection charms after this. Don't suppose you happen to have a blood-quill on you, do you Moody?"

"For the contract?"

"Yep."

The grizzled Auror reached into his robes and withdrew two items. One was the blood-quill, and the other was…

"Browning Hi-Power. 9mm Parabellum, whatever that means. Got you a few boxes of ammunition to go with it."

"Awesome." Harry reached into one of his own pockets. "Here's the contract; swap you."

Moody ceded his grip of the Browning in favor of grabbing the parchment. His eye began to jerk from side to side, taking in each and every line of the document. Harry dropped the gun's magazine into his left hand, double-checked that it was full, and then slammed it back home. One rack of the slide and a flick of the safety later, and he was tucking it into his left inside coat pocket. His host may have preferred the small of the back for carry, but it wasn't exactly the most discreet. Not to mention kinda hard to draw when one was sitting down.

"…These are some pretty serious penalties, lad."

"I should hope so. I didn't get it out of the Black library for kicks and giggles."

Tonks leaned over, hoping to catch a glimpse. "What's the worst that could happen if you broke the terms?"

Harry shrugged. "You'll find out when I think you're trustworthy enough to sign it."

With a very pointed look his direction, Mad-Eye scribbled something down, and then passed both contract and quill back to Harry. "I'm trusting ye with this, lad."

"I know. And to show you how much I appreciate it…" he signed his own name underneath the ex-Auror's. "There. Now if anyone manages to make it through the minefield that is my brain, the rest of you will all have at least some protection."

"…You didnae have to do that, lad."

"Oh but I did. You say constant vigilance; I say trust no one. Not even yourself."

"…What happened to ye, lad?"

"You'll find out later on our shopping trip. And don't think I've forgotten about the goofer dust, either. Now…how about those floor charms?"

Three very exhausting and sore hours later, Harry dragged himself down to the kitchen. He may have managed to outlast Tonks, but not by long. He was lucky his host had been a good horse rider; otherwise he would've been hard-pressed to stay ahead of Tonks' learning curve. Once they'd beaten each other up enough with their bare hands, they'd moved on to unarmed-versus-armed defense. Turned out she was really good at that, once she knew what to look out for.

He'd wanted to start teaching her how to use the handgun or the rifle, but he really didn't want to shoot any more holes in the house than was absolutely necessary. So they'd stuck to loading, unloading, aiming, and dry-firing. He hadn't convinced her to start carrying a gun of her own, but he had ended up blackmailing her into at least carrying a couple of knives in exchange for letting her sign the contract. He still hadn't told her anything important, though; wanted to run it all by Moody first and see just how much he thought they could trust her with. Not for their sake, but for her own. She was still technically an employee of the DMLE, and he didn't want to willingly put her in a position where she might be forced to either reveal what he'd told her or lose her job.

As he stumbled into the room, he gave an inward groan. Lunch time; ergo, everyone and their second cousin twice-removed was there. Dumbledore included.

Still, better to get this over with now.

At least Ron and Hermione had saved him a seat between them; he didn't think he could stand sitting next to anyone else right now. He collapsed into the chair with a grunt, and then let his head fall forward on the table with a thunk.

"Way to go, mate!"

He turned to glare at Ron. "For what?"

"Only one reason I can think of to spend a few hours with a bird and come down looking as tired as that. Good on you!"

…And there went any and all inclination he might have had to let the loud-mouthed ginger sign. Along with a good deal of whatever respect other people had held for him. He could practically feel Ginny's shattered expression from where he sat, as well as the looks of disapproval from both the Headmaster and the Morrigan. Best put the uppity snot in his place before it went any further than just looks.

"Ron, what I or anyone else in this house get up to in our private time is, frankly, none of your business. I'll have you know the reason I'm so bloody tired is that I've spent a grand total of thirty-four outta the last forty hours awake, with the last three set aside for some private Auror-grade hand-to-hand training. Not whatever your twisted hormonal mind may have driven into your thick skull. And if you ever so much as hint at such activities again at the table, with no amount of respect for the fairer sex, then I'll let Hermione have you. Clear?"

Ron had the decency to look properly scared at that particular threat. Course that mighta had something with how Hermione was currently glaring at him like he was a particularly offensive bug.

It seemed everyone else had been mollified by his speech, although Ginny still looked a little pale. Maybe she'd finally figured out that if she didn't make her move, someone else might cut ahead of her and get there first. He didn't care one way or another; he had more important things to worry about.

Like Dumbledore.

"I understand that in my absence, you threatened quite a few people about taking things from the library, Harry. May I ask why?"

"You may. You won't care much for my answer, though."

"I ask that you share it anyway, if you please."

Hmmm. Did he go to the trouble of explaining himself, or did he go the prank route?

Ah, who was he kidding. Prank all the way.

"Fine. I need to go through any and all of that material to see what I can find on the subject of reincarnation."

A look of confusion clouded Dumbledore's face. "Reincarnation?"

Harry nodded as solemnly as he could. "Correct. I have recently discovered that I am the tenth reincarnation of Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith, Savior of the Galaxy, Slayer of the Mand'alor, and a whole lot of other long meaningless titles that don't have a meaning in this day and age."

You could've heard a pin drop.

"…Is that so, Harry?"

He drew it out as long as he could. "…Nah, I'm just screwing with you. Surprise!"

Hermione slugged him in the arm.

Dumbledore sighed. "As much of a prankster as your father. Would I be correct in assuming the true reason for your reaction was your lack of sleep, and not a revelation of any lingering ill will towards anyone here?"

"Assume away, Headmaster. If anyone cares to find me, I'll be in the library multitasking. And before you ask, if anyone actually wants me to start trusting them, then I've got a nice little contract for you to sign that'll make sure no one can hold anything over anyone else."

With that, he picked up his plate, and strode from the room.

He was, unfortunately, stopped in his tracks just outside by his second favorite pair of twins.

"Oi, who you calling second?"

"Sorry Gred and Forge, didn't realize I said that out loud. And let's face it chaps, you're just not up to the Patils' level."

They grinned. "Very true, oh great prankster ours. Would've had to take offense if you'd chosen the Carrow twins over us, though."

"Why? Cause they're Slytherins? Need I remind you Wormtail was a Gryffindor?"

"Whoah, whoah, no need to get all antsy. We get it. Some of our best business deals have come from Slytherins. But the Carrow twins are among the very few to identify one of our pranks before it went off, and then threaten us quite convincingly to leave them out of any and all future attempts. Those girls are scary, mate."

"I'll be sure to make a note of that. Now, what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Your contract. We wanna sign it."

"Are you sure? Penalties are a bit steep."

"We owe you, mate. Not just for the shop, but for saving our sister in second year, and for…well, for all of it. You don't have to warn us about anything; we trust you."

"…Good to know. Thank you. Both of you. I mean it."

"What are friends for? Sides, you just managed to prank the entire Order in the space of thirty seconds. We got no way to top that. Lead the way, oh fearless comrade-in-arms!"

A potentially very dangerous idea flashed through Harry's mind. "Say fellas…"

He wrapped his arms around their shoulders. "How would the pair of you like to become Animagi and join the Marauders for real?"

"Just say the word and we'll hand over the rights to our souls, old chap."

"No souls required. Just a few runs to a certain location the honorable Mister Padfoot revealed to me…"

After warning the two devils that offering your soul and/ or first-born for something was in fact a very bad idea, and could actually be done by accident if you weren't careful, he finally got down to his multitasking.

"Eating and reading at the same time isn't multitasking, Harry."

"Multitasking is defined as doing more than one thing at a time, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, but.."

"And eating is a thing, correct?"

"Yes, but…"

"And so is reading, right?"

"But…"

"But nothing. If eating is a thing, and reading is a thing, and I'm doing both at once, plus talking on top of that, that automatically means I'm multitasking. Ergo, I'm right, and you're wrong."

Hermione huffed. "Fine, but you don't have to be so smug about it."

"If you say so. Come to sign?"

"I wanna hear the penalties first."

"Course you do. Right; first thing I looked for was a way to erase any sensitive information from someone's head the instant they so much as even thought about spilling it. No go; Obliviation's a fine art, and the contract would've had a whole lot of trouble picking and choosing which bits to erase from multiple possible memories, at least without leaving the recipient a vegetable a la Lockhart."

"Get to the point, Harry."

"I am, I am, keep your shirt on. Or don't. Next thing I looked for was a way to keep anyone from actually telling the truth about what they'd seen or heard. No dice again; all anyone would have to do was convince themselves they were lying, and they could say whatever the hell they wanted. Last possibility I looked into was what's called a Cassandra Curse; you can say whatever the hell you like, but no one will ever believe you're telling the truth. And I hit paydirt."

He held up the contract. "The magic on this contract literally keeps anyone from believing what you say about its penalties or its subject matter once you sign."

"But that's a violation of free will!"

"Nope. You still have the choice to sign. Or not. Makes no odds to me. But if you insist on knowing the penalties, you're gonna have to read them."

She did so.

"…Harry, I thought you said that Obliviation wouldn't work!"

"I said it wouldn't work if you were trying to avoid becoming a vegetable. You try to reveal a secret willingly, and that's exactly what will happen. And wham-bam-shang-a-lang, the Janus Thickery Ward gets two new permanent residents."

"I don't believe you."

"I know; great, isn't it? So, do you sign, or not?"

Hermione sighed. "Have a quill handy?"

"Here you go."

"…Harry, this isn't a normal quill."

"Blood quill. Mildly Dark, but only way to sign one of these things without us actually sharing blood directly. Which might lead to some awkward questions on whether or not magic considers us married or not."

Hermione snorted. "Bet Ginny would go for that way, then."

She then promptly slapped her hand over her mouth. "…I wasn't supposed to say anything…"

"And now you know why I wanted a contract. Don't worry about it; I knew about Ginny already. I'm not quite as unobservant as everyone thinks I am."

She gave a sigh of relief, and then signed.

"So…what now? Do I get any answers on what actually happened to you since school let out?"

"Yes and no. Tell you what; gimme a hand enchanting this…" he pulled out the brush axe from under his chair, "throw up every secrecy spell you know, and I'll tell you what actually happened to change my outlook on life. Understand there's some things I just can't tell you yet, mostly about what I pulled from Moldy-Shorts' head fore I figured out how to block him. Got to run 'em by Mad-Eye first, see what he thinks."

"That's very mature of you, Harry."

"Glad you think so. So, there I was, passed out in bed, when…"