Chapter 2: A Fuck You and a Goodbye
A/N: This is the longest chapter I have written in a while… my eyes are tired.
The minute that Harry awoke he could have, theoretically, said anything with the first free breath that he had after the ritual was complete and given everything it had put him through.
"Fuck me" he half-whispered and half groaned, even as he was watched by the proverbial peanut gallery consisting of the memory of his father and the amalgamated spirit of both the Room of Requirement and possibly of the castle itself.
"I'll pass," James cheeky remarked.
"I lack the practical experience" stated the near wholly analytical voice of the Room, currently in the guise of the stunningly attractive Rowena Ravenclaw.
Her response set James off on a round of almost hysterical laughter even as Harry groaned and blushed in mortified annoyance. "Though, if you wish, I shall endeavour to put the full depth of my theoretical knowledge on the subject to use?"
More laughter from James shattered the sudden stillness at that comment even as tears sprang from the man's eyes. Harry's blush disappeared at the same time as quickly as it came, he paled dramatically at what was happening around him and he involuntarily started looking for an exit with his eyes.
Still, a frantic shake of his head denied the offer.
He couldn't stop the images that sprang into his head though.
Of soft lips caressing his own, satin skin yielding to his every touch, of gasps of pleasure from that beautiful mouth, those long legs wrapped around him and pulling him in, of their bodies moving as one as he went deeper and deeper...their only desire to complete the actions which his body demanded.
He shook his head again, more violently this time, even while his guts twisted painfully inside.
James, of course, laughed all the harder as he clearly understood what had gone through his almost son's mind.
Eventually, he was able, thanks to screwing his eyes tight and imagining Malfoy and Snape slow dancing to a particularly cheesy love song, to calm both his mind and his body's natural reaction to the offer.
'I am never telling Hermione about this conversation' he thought. 'Why am I thinking about her at this moment?'
Putting that question aside took a moment, as now was not the time he knew to think on that, and he realised then that the pain had largely faded from his body.
Without thinking too much about it he silently wished for a mirror and was instantly provided with one. He was both trying to distract himself from the things that had just happened and had an honest curiosity to see exactly what the ritual had done to him.
Before he could fully look and understand what was going on with his body, he realised that he was already different in a few fundamental and profound ways and it was more than simply feeling completely, utterly, rejuvenated.
His mind was clearer than he had ever felt before. It was almost as if he had spent his entire life in a fog, being led on by horns that he could hear but never see, only for the sun to rise and break it apart as if it had never been.
A metaphorically great weight had been lifted from him, connections were clearer and his wits were sharper. Even the speed of thoughts had changed for the better as if he was fighting to clear a quagmire that he could never see but only feel.
It was far more than that though. Somewhere inside, where witches and wizards felt the core of their power, he could finally feel more than a simple whisper of what he had.
Where it had once been a thread that dangled in a gale (and he subconsciously flailed for it every time that it was needed), now it felt like a second heartbeat in the back of his mind even as it slowly settled into his own rhythms as it always should have.
He found the noise oddly soothing, like walking into a warm and welcoming house after travelling through a rainstorm for hours.
When he finally felt at peace enough with the new feeling inside of him he was able, at last, to fully take stock of the changes to his body.
He still recognised himself but, it was a close-run thing at first glance and that shocked him more than a little.
His shoulders had broadened, so much so that he could never be called scrawny again and giving more than a hint of the man he would become. Although he was not a hulking powerhouse (and his frame would never allow him to be anyway) his muscles were clearly defined and stretching his now too tight, ill-fitting and uncomfortable clothes.
He had also shot up to a very respectable six feet and two inches in height. The effect of which made his movements, for the moment at least, slightly ungainly.
On the plus side (for a very grateful Harry) he no longer needed his glasses. As much as people used to say that it was part of the way he looked like his father, he had always hated wearing them.
"So?" Harry asked "What's the verdict? How well did it work? Fully, partially or am I going to explode like a popped balloon any minute?"
"No you are not going to pop any minute" answered James while barking out a short laugh at Harry's joke. 'It really wasn't very funny' James thought 'but the kid needs some encouragement...especially after everything he's been through.'
He took a moment to let that sink in before continuing "Actually it went better than we had dared to hope."
Harry stood up and, on shaky legs, took James's offered hand and stepped out of the ritual circle.
While they were doing that Ravenclaw gestured with one delicate hand and a small list of glowing words appeared in the air between them. Both men took a moment to read them and, in both cases, their reactions were telling.
Harry frowned, as if in confusion for a brief moment, while James looked like he wanted to rip someone's throat out...with his teeth.
"In front of you is a list of the potions that have been found in your system, all of which have been purged. There was a very strong wit dampening potion, strong libido inhibitor, nine separate blocks to your magic by two different people, the most powerful loyalty potion that I've ever come across keyed to someone, a mid-range loyalty potion keyed to someone else, an aversion potion. Finally, there were four shunts that pushed the majority of your remaining power into Hogwarts for some reason."
"There was also one other thing," said James bleakly.
"What?" Harry asked, confused after all that there could be any more after that disturbingly long list but, wanting to hear it all before he reacted.
"The exorcism of a Horcrux from you, one that belonged to a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle."
"What?" James exclaimed. "I knew it was something dark...but not that. He had a piece of fucking Voldemort's soul in his goddamn head? If I ever see Dumbledore again, I swear by every scrap of magic that has ever existed, I will gut the bastard."
"Oh, shit" whispered a horrified Harry. He was disgusted by the thought that he had carried that for who knows how long before turning to Ravenclaw and asking "But I'm okay now?"
"Yes. Harry, the taint, such as it is, cannot survive without a container unless it's the main soul piece. The sliver that was in you was removed successfully and no trace of it remains. You are free and untainted."
She then turned to James and scrutinised him under a harsh and yet understanding gaze. "And you cannot face the Headmaster inside or outside this room. Outside you would simply cease to be and, even if you did not, if you faced him outside this room you would fail. The very power that enables you to exist, like that of Hogwarts itself, is intricately bound to do no harm to the Headmaster. All you would be doing would be revealing the capabilities of the Room of Requirement and putting Harry at risk."
James grumbled at that, more than grumbled actually, but with a sharp nod, he conceded the point. Defeated out of his justifiable revenge, he collapsed into a chair that sprang into existence right when he needed it.
Turning back to Harry, she continued "Harry, an elf appeared while you were still in recovery… The Weighing of the Wands ceremony is tomorrow afternoon. I am sorry but, your presence is required by Dumbledore and the other judges. While not strictly part of the contract, I advise you to go if only to help allay suspicion about what you are actually up to. The elf did leave a note with the time and place that you should be."
"Fine" Harry replied, barely restraining himself from snapping given everything he had gone through recently. It wouldn't be fair to the other two if he did, he knew that, and it wasn't their fault that he had no desire to see the judges, teachers or Dumbledore right now.
Let alone, with the exception of Hermione, the rest of the student body.
"Can you tell me how much power he has now?" James asked Ravenclaw "is it enough for him to survive what he has to face?"
"I do not know as it is still settling" Ravenclaw replied while looking at him critically. "It will be anywhere between sixty and three hundred and ninety per cent more than he had access to before. At its lowest, for modern wizards, it would make a very respectable base and more power will mean he has more options later on."
"But" interjected James, "power alone will mean nothing in the end, if he doesn't have the skill to use it."
"Very true" answered Ravenclaw. She easily transitioned into what Harry often thought of as her teaching mode. "Power is first Harry because without power your options disappear but, without the skills to correctly apply that power it is worse than useless. The most important things to keep in mind are that power and skill are not constants, as one grows the other must so they and you remain in balance. Most important though is wisdom and that, neither of us can teach… the idea that just because you can do a thing, it does not mean you should."
The last sentence felt, to Harry, far more serious than any other that she had ever spoken to him.
He glanced over to see a strange expression on James's face and, with the benefit of the life he had already led, waiting for the next bomb to crater his life.
He did not have to wait long.
"As you are now clear of all other influences I can now fulfil the purpose for which I was created. I offer you my skills, Harry James Potter, son of Lily Jane and James Fleamont Potter."
He had never heard James more serious than he was at this moment. It was also solemn and Harry could feel the weight of the moment as if the world itself had paused and was waiting for his reply.
"Do I have a choice?" Harry asked.
"You always have a choice, Harry. In the end, that's all any of us ever really have...the beauty and terror of our choices and what they do to us and the world around us." James responded kindly.
"Does this mean I'll get your memories? What will happen to you if we do this and how does it work?"
Harry's newly freed and faster mind was bouncing connections around at lightning speed and the questions were spilling out of his mouth without thought.
That would calm in time but, like any big changes, there would be a period of adjustment. Thankfully, James knew this and he took no offence but merely smiled softly and wistfully at Harry.
"In no particular order, my construct will be broken down and the skills that I carry will be passed to you. The knowledge of how to use them will be lacking I'm afraid. It will be like the best case of muscle memory in the world rather than a stream of ready to use abilities. Don't forget, I care for you, love you even but...I'm not human and when my purpose is fulfilled I will break down. That means that I would die in a sense but, that's not really accurate...I'm an anomaly, I'm not supposed to exist, more than a ghost but less than a man."
"Then I don't want to do it," Harry said firmly.
"Because you think you'll save my life? Regardless of what you decide, my purpose will be fulfilled and I will cease to be. I am not human, if you accept then my final act will be to help you if you don't then your refusal becomes the same thing."
James let that sink in for a moment, allowing Harry to fully digest that his time was nearing its end before he continued. "You could also have my memories but, frankly, I'd advise against it."
"Why wouldn't I want that?" Harry asked, his voice clearly tinged with a sadness that would not soon leave him thanks to the knowledge that, no matter what was said in the next little while or what he was, someone who genuinely wanted to help him would leave him.
He knew it wasn't his father intellectually but, the face was the same, the smell was the same, the voice was the same and he had hoped (in some small part of his brain) to get to know his father through this echo of him.
"Harry…" James spoke with a voice full of compassion and sympathy that made it hurt all the more and his heartache just that little bit deeper. "I may be close to it but, I am not your father. You and I are connected by magic but not by blood as I simply don't have any. If I was him we would have a double connection that could, theoretically, give you both the memories and the skills that you're asking for. Still, I would ask you not to do it and, if you don't, with me you will have to choose...one connection means either skills or my memories, not both."
"But what's so wrong with wanting to have memories of my mum and dad… of my family?"
"Nothing," James said with a voice full of understanding "and everything. Even discounting your survival is more assured with the offered skills rather than the memories...think for a moment, they are not your memories."
At Harry's confused look James continued trying to explain. "Everything would be essentially from your father's perspective. The memories would be tinged with his beliefs, views and emotions. If you did this could you honestly say that you were Harry James Potter anymore? Would you be Harry with over twenty years of memories or James Potter with fourteen? The thoughts and feelings swimming around your mind would be who's exactly?"
"It'd be difficult I know, but…" Harry began only to be interrupted by James.
"You would also have the memories of your own birth, feelings for your own mother and memories of having sex with her. Do you really want that as part of yourself?"
At Harry's sickened shudder, James knew his point had been made.
"Either way..." Ravenclaw said, thankfully changing the subject "trying to lighten this heavy moment that you seem to be having… we will not judge your choice, and it truly is your choice, and we are only here to help you."
"I need to think about this," Harry said quietly.
They both understood that, as regardless of the complications, the pull between the head and the heart had confused and tested much older and wiser people than a fourteen-year-old boy.
No matter how world-weary or mistreated that was what Harry was at this moment and neither of his teachers had forgotten that.
Harry quietly moved away from them and a wall shimmered into existence as he was left, respectfully, alone with his thoughts.
Most people faced choices that were a wrench between the head and the heart or ones that would clearly have far-reaching effects on their lives. However, most people weren't cognizant of those choices until at least their early twenties.
He was Harry Potter though and had been making those decisions, ones regarding his survival since he could understand that he was in danger. At that time, of course, it was mainly from his loving relatives but the nature of these decisions was not new to him.
The context though… that was both strange and brand spanking new and to get through the emotional mess of that, he needed solitude.
It took him hours to come to some sort of balance and his teachers, who did not need to sleep or eat (and could easily have eavesdropped on the young man) waited patiently for the young man to reach his conclusion.
They did know when he was ready to return though (Ravenclaw was always partially in contact with her greater whole after all).
When he did Harry looked like he had been put through an emotional beating like never before. It was an impossible choice for the man who had never known (and yet always had yearned for deep down) his parents, the idea of willingly giving up memories that could shed light on them was an abhorrent idea, never mind the cost.
Added to that, no matter what happened or how they phrased it, this choice would end in death no matter what he decided.
It was another piece of the boy lost, another choice made that cost him something, but hopefully, it would also be cathartic and help inform the man he would become rather than impede his growth.
He had used that time well and managed to vent the majority of his anger at the unfairness of life, especially when it came to his parents and what happened to them. His frustration had been hurled against the uncaring and paradoxically comforting silence of the walls of Hogwarts.
It was a place that had tried to help its students and staff all through its life, with varying success.
"One thing before… before I make my choice." Harry abruptly spoke to Ravenclaw, his voice hoarse and half-broken by what he had been through. His intelligence, now unfettered by outside influences, shone in his eyes as he spoke, as did the strength of his character. "There is more to why you are helping me other than the fact that I'm another student here isn't there?"
An intuitive leap on Harry's part but, in this case, a good one.
"Yes," she replied bluntly "there is. It is more than the fact that I can help you, more than the fact that you are a student here that has been mistreated by those who have never done so, you are Merlin's Heir."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry questioned and, in his peripheral vision, even James seemed interested in the explanation that was about to come. It appeared that this was news to him as well as to Harry.
"Before this place was a school, before this place was Hogwarts, it had another name and it was not owned by the Founders. The basic structure wasn't even built by them, granted they improved and expanded it greatly, and it was known as Merlin's Retreat long before it was passed as a gift to the four and bound to them by blood and magic."
"Wait a minute" interrupted James "are you saying that this place used to be..what… Merlin's holiday home?"
"Yes. When his duties at Camelot got to be too taxing, he would come here to relax and recover his zest for life. Back then, the entity known as Hogwarts hadn't fully formed but the seed that eventually formed the foundation of what she is came into being then. Because of that, she feels a kinship and affection to you that is far greater than that of another student. As she does, so do I… that is part of my nature."
"Is that why the other Marauders and I rarely got caught when I was in school? Because my bloodline is the same as Merlin's?" James was agog at the very idea.
"Sometimes yes" she admitted. "More than that though, Hogwarts does have a sense of humour and did occasionally find you funny, though she never approved of the extremes that you and Severus went to when fighting each other."
James's face showed that he took it as a grave insult that they were apparently only occasionally funny. Even as he did that Harry grinned at the idea of a sassy and slightly judgemental castle.
It looked like James was going to argue the point and Harry could see that conversation, if it happened, going on for a long time and frankly it was one that James would never win.
'It isn't even about whether he is right or not' Harry thought ruefully ' but what man, ghost or whatever he is could really win an argument against the Aspect of a thousand-year-old castle?'
So he interrupted them before their attention could wander towards that dead end. He nodded respectfully at them as he did so. He was not willing, with all of the other confusing things going on his head to touch that with a ten-foot pole.
They waited for him to verbalise his decision but he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was too much to verbalise, too heavy on his tongue and he could only offer a sharp nod at both of them.
Thankfully they both seemed to understand him well enough to know what choice they had made. Then again, this was a place where the line between thought and form often became more than a little blurred, so perhaps, it wasn't that surprising that they did so.
He would receive the skills of James Fleamount Potter, that they all knew.
The Room of Requirement began to darken immediately as if dusk had settled inside the castle, but no words were spoken by anyone.
The only other sign of anything happening was James himself.
His form was slowly losing colour, like his already slightly see-through form was being bleached in patches all over his body and it was at that moment that James chose to speak.
"Harry." The man's voice had changed as, instead of the human sounds that Harry was used to, it now sounded hollow as if the depth was being taken from it every single second. "I'm not him, I know that, but I feel like him. Would you let me be him...at my last?"
There wasn't just pain on the man's face, there was a wistful longing for a life he remembered but had never actually lived. Harry had no idea if James could even feel pain in a physical sense but he could clearly feel it emotionally.
There was a sense of something else in the set of James's jaw or perhaps the glint in his dulling eyes. This was his purpose made manifest, this was his peace.
One day Harry might even be okay with that.
"Yes," Harry choked out through the emotions he was feeling, "you can be my Dad."
Harry wanted to move towards him but found that he couldn't do so and, even to his dying day, he wouldn't have been able to say whether it was magic or his own turbulent emotions that kept him rooted in place.
'I don't want to watch this' he thought. 'I don't know if I can watch this...but I have to try. I owe him that much at least.'
Tears slowly fell down his face as he watched the end of the last piece of James Potter.
These tears were not just for the man before him, but for his creator and Lily Potter. They were for everything that should have been, but that never could be.
The final sacrifice of his parents, long-delayed by magic and time, as James Potter gave the fullest measure of himself in service of his son as Lily Potter had done before him.
Through it all, Ravenclaw and Hogwarts stood in silent witness. It was as if the castle itself was standing vigil over the act and honouring the man's sacrifice in its own way as well.
James wasn't becoming misty and opaque like Nearly Headless Nick or even beginning to look like poltergeists like Peeves.
As the colour faded at a greater rate from him it seemed to truly first become noticeable with his hair and then slowly spreading like some intruder stealing away his life and, moving in a downward fashion, it connected with the splotches that had already appeared before.
All it left behind was a thin outline of the man's shape. He was effectively becoming a pencil sketch of a human shape more than anything else.
Harry found that, in the back of his mind, he was surprised that he felt no rush of knowledge while this was all happening.
That was, at least, until he chastised himself as he belatedly realised that whatever skills were being transferred were probably being added to his subconscious and that the clearest sign that it was working was James disappearing.
He wouldn't be doing so if it wasn't.
"Thank you," James said and, this time, his voice was barely even as strong as a whisper on the breeze.
He had an open and joyful smile on his face as he did so and, despite the situation, this reassured Harry. This was after all James's choice (not that he had better ones) and he simply could have chosen not to offer, not to help.
He did though, and now his purpose was very nearly complete. Harry couldn't think of anything to say for a long second as he watched the man begin to fully disappear leaving nothing behind.
"I love you, Dad," Harry said brokenly because, at that moment, he did. In that fragment of time, the wound was as raw as if this were the original James Potter and he was watching him slowly die.
In a sense he was. He may not have known his parents or developed much more than a friendly student-teacher relationship with this James but, at that precise second, he loved him.
For the sacrifice he was making on Harry's behalf, for the lengths that he was willing to go to even if it was what he was technically designed for it and for the barest glimpse that he got of how far both his parents would go to protect him, he loved him.
There was no reply as, by the time that he had said it, it was over and Harry was left with only hoping that James had heard him before all of it was finished.
Then, Harry stepped away and took more than a few hours to collect himself, harden his heart and return to the task at hand.
-HPCOD-
"So, what happens now?" Harry asked.
He wanted to give himself time to adjust to everything that had happened to him lately, as well as the revelations about what had been done to him, but he was on a clock with an uncertain end date.
'If there is one thing that I am good at, it is compartmentalising and burying my emotions for a later date.'
Nothing helped with that like burying yourself in work. The fact that the work that he was throwing himself at would hopefully save his life didn't hurt either.
"First thing is first, you have to learn the basics of Occlumency which, thanks to the skills that you now possess, shouldn't take more than a few hours. If you practice and do the exercises to maintain and improve it each night you will have a decent shield around your thoughts within a month. They won't be perfect, that is a work of a lifetime, but you will get better emotional control and almost perfect recall within the same time frame."
"I think I have pretty good control over my emotions already." Harry pointed out.
"Repression is not controlling your emotions and that will do nothing but make the first steps harder for you."
"I'm surprised that it will take that long to get the basics of it up and running," Harry noted, changing the subject as he did so.
"Basic Occlumency normally takes at least two years to learn, even for the most gifted, which is one of the reasons it is a dying art. I dare say that your father and his friends would never have learned it if it didn't help so much to become an animagi and only James and Sirius maintained the disciple after they found their forms. The setup and initial sorting of memories may take a few hours in real-time but, the maintenance should only translate to five or ten minutes a day."
"Then what? Becoming an animagus?"
"No. You have James Potter's reflex memory of the transformation but, that is one skill that we should take slowly and very carefully as I doubt your form is that of a stag. If you attempt it rashly then you could easily seriously injure yourself."
"It may be late in the day, there are at least a few more hours left of it before I call Dobby for food and go to bed. What else can you show me?"
"Of James Potter's skills? Nothing. Even with the skills that have been imparted to you, it will still take weeks before you achieve basic competence in the abilities bequeathed to you. True mastery will take far longer and will be something that you will have to continue at your own pace. How about learning a small amount of static magic instead?"
"Static magic?" Harry asked, unfamiliar with the term.
"Runes are the most common expressions of that type of magic. Specifically sets that will shield your mind for a time and, once I am sure that you have them right, only then will you call Dobby for food and rest. We need a small piece of marble and something to make a chain for a necklace to start with."
"Why wouldn't I do that, rather than learn Occlumency? Aside from it being extremely helpful for becoming an animagi?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"Because you get none of the other benefits and, for your own emotional well being and growth both as a wizard and a man, Occlumency is the answer even if it is not the easier path. The runes are also unfortunately very limited because they draw only on ambient magic…"
"My own would be useless in powering them. I'm guessing that I'd have to be in a high magic environment like Hogwarts for them to work?"
"Unfortunately yes. That was the main reason that they were nearly forgotten and, at one time, Occlumency became far more popular even if it is far harder to do. They are also very easy to spot when in use, which is why I suggested something that you can conceal. Your natural shields will also strengthen over time whereas the runes will not and, if they are overcome, then you will have a massive problem."
"Are there any other advantages to static magic?"
"The Ministry cannot track it, a fact that they have gone to great pains not to advertise, as they track wizards by their wand signatures or by the distinctive flavour of your magical core (in the case of accidental magic). The only way that static magic is tracked is if it becomes so large that it registers on their own imprecise nets. Furthermore…"
And in this way, Harry Potter's last gift from his parents was given and accepted. The first steps on his new path were taken on a late evening, in early November, and under the watchful gaze of a thousand-year-old castle.
-HPCOD-
9th November 2000
Harry Potter walked with swift and sure steps towards the classroom where the Weighing of the Wands was taking place.
The general populace of the school reacted exactly as Harry expected after not seeing him or hearing anything from him, for a week. In short, they acted like mindless idiots that probably couldn't find their own arse with a map.
They shunned him, they parted before his path as if he was carrying some unseeable version of the plague. They tried to harass him verbally from a distance, huddled in corners and whispered about him in sharp scathing voices.
Most were even sporting badges on their robes, not hidden but displayed proudly, that cycled between a message of support for Diggory and the oh-so-imaginative Potter stinks.
'Oh the poor little bastards, they missed me,' he thought sarcastically. 'Seriously whichever one of them thought up that slogan makes a brain dead puppy look smart.'
If they hoped to provoke a visible reaction out of him by doing this then they were sorely disappointed.
Thanks, in no small part to the knowledge that he had at least one safe space from those moronic hyenas in this madhouse full of imbeciles and, though still new and weak, his Occlumency shields helped take the edge off of his simmering anger.
'They will have to try far harder than that to get a rise out of me' was his only thought after dwelling on what they had been attempting for less than five minutes.
The one person that he hadn't seen was Hermione. He missed her in the strange crush of human reactions that he had experienced since the greater populous had seen him again.
He found himself wishing to find her and his eyes had scanned the crowd, seemingly without any conscious decision, looking for her distinctive mane of hair or her sparkling eyes.
He wasn't even aware that the thought of her eyes as sparkling, or his longing to see her face, was anything more than a reflection of their deep friendship. The Dursley's had gone to pains not to educate the boy in any sense and, thanks to Dudley and his gang, that even extended to any friendships until he went to Hogwarts.
He was so distracted looking for her that he didn't see her coming towards him as he entered the classroom.
If he had, he would have seen her determined and thunderous expression as she barely missed catching him before he entered the room.
Someone (likely Dumbledore in Harry's opinion) had rearranged the time of the Weighing of the Wands so that the majority of the upper years had a free period and, like good little sheep, they bleated around him causing nothing but noise and distraction.
Still, it allowed the detractors of the student body to vent their feelings against him and allowed the teachers (not to mention the foreign schools) a chance to judge him by his response.
It also guaranteed that the Headmaster could be free to be there in person. Amusingly enough, because of the many hats that he wore, he was delayed and not there from the beginning.
He too missed Hermione, although in his case it was because he was in a rush.
Unbeknownst to both men, Hermione had pursed her lips in frustration and waited near the door until, having lost her patience, she decided to stay by the door soon after Dumbledore had entered.
She was clearly not moving until Harry was finished and she could snag him for a long-overdue conversation.
"Ah Harry," came the falsely bright and shallow voice of Ludo Bagman even as Harry took in the room and the collection of scowling faces of the other schools Headmasters.
'I wonder how they would react if I gave them all the finger. Nah...not worth it… unfortunately for me as I could do with a laugh.'
He also took in the pensive face of the other champions. Cedric Diggory's entire expression, which somehow looked both intent and unsettled at the same time, amused him (though not as much as flipping them off would have).
Fleur Delacour's demeanour was every inch the impassive, haughty mask that one might expect from someone raised by a French aristocrat. She gave nothing away beyond that and had a gaze that seemed to evaluate and dismiss everyone around her as beneath her.
Krum's face hadn't changed since he had first entered the castle. It wasn't blank so much as etched into a permanent half scowl. Harry didn't know whether it was a defence mechanism against fans or if he was always this surly but, at this moment, he found it impossible to care.
The most disappointing person in the room at this moment in time was Professor Sprout who was there are she was Diggory's staff sponsor. She was supposed to be the ultimate Hufflepuff and emphasize loyalty, fair play and compassion.
She should have been checking on him or perhaps even looking around the room in a benign sort of way. Instead, she was pinning him with a glare and her normally round and jovial face was etched with a level of disdain and hatred that was more appropriate on Snape than her.
Ollivander, a reporter and a photographer were also in the room but he was warned beforehand by the Room of Requirement that they were there even as Bagman continued to speak. "Dumbledore is on his way."
"Bagman," Harry replied with a tone that was so icy that the man actually flinched at his voice even as Rita Skeeter's head snapped up. She was many things but, the thing that she was best at was smelling a juicy story.
The evolving conflict between the famous Boy-Who-Lived and the architect of the entire Tournament would surely make fantastic headlines.
Harry didn't miss this as, like Dumbledore, he had eyes in the castle. Where Dumbledore used this position as Headmaster to demand and force Hogwarts to obey, Harry asked the Room which was, in a sense, asking Hogwarts directly.
It was more than that though. Dumbledore had a laser-like focus on every single move that Harry made and that had only heightened this year. Dumbledore hadn't taken it well that he couldn't find or spy on Harry in the Room (there were no portraits nearby after all).
Dumbledore's other methods of spying were also stymied for the moment.
Fawkes may have been bonded to the man but a phoenix would never take such a morally grey and dubious assignment from his partner and Dumbledore knew better than to ask as it could have risked their bond.
That was also the reason that he tried to involve the bird as little as possible. It wasn't just friendship that stayed his hand though, it was also pragmatism as it would do untold damage to his reputation if he lost Fawkes.
What the phoenix thought of all of this was anyone's guess.
The elves may have reported to him but they were bound, first and foremost to Hogwarts. Usually, this was a distinction without a difference but it was under her direction that they dissembled, distracted and bamboozled the Headmaster.
All within the tight scope of their natures of course.
What Harry was relearning every day (and Dumbledore had forgotten) was that creatures like the House-elves, the Goblins, the Merfolk and even the Veela viewed the world in a fundamentally different way than humans
In the case of the House-elves, they saw the magic of a thing more than the person or the position. Dumbledore was less of a person and more a piece of the machine to them.
To an Elf, the Room was not part of the Hogwarts wards (at least most of the time) and that led them to be uncertain as to whether it was their responsibility or not. It was this grey area that, unknowingly, allowed them to hamper Dumbledore's attempts to map and track Harry's movements when Hogwart's asked.
Simply put it allowed them to violate their service to the Headmaster by obeying their higher service to Hogwarts, it allowed them the choice to do so at least and it was one they took gladly.
This was the reason that he was late. He was puzzled over why the castle's resources were so slow to respond to him while the castle itself (seemingly at least) obeyed his every command.
Thankfully he got nowhere with that and gave it up as a bad job for now and found himself in a rush to get to the Weighing of the Wands.
Harry on the other hand took the lesson of different perspectives to heart. He had concluded that all information was useful and that would be coloured by the species offering it. He also realised that if he didn't play catch up now then he might not survive to do it later.
Harry had devoured as much information as he could and learned much about the intrepid reporter in the room, information that he was now going to put to good use against the venomous reporter.
"Hello Harry," Rita said with a deep greed evident in her voice, but it was poorly concealed by her affable tone and betrayed even more by the bright glint in her eyes. "I have been wanting to meet you for a very long time."
'I bet you have,' Harry thought cynically.
"Miss Skeeter," said Harry while kissing the back of her hand and with his voice dripping with warmth. Not that had any real feeling for the woman, far from it, but he was a much better actor than she was.
Living with the Dursley's once again paid dividends as they had taught him many things in life. Most of those lessons he hadn't wanted to learn but they were experts at showing a false face to the world.
He was better at it than the most seasoned character actor and by this point, his false face felt less like a mask and more like a comfortable bath, which made the next sentence easy for him. "I'm a great admirer of you and your work."
"Really?" She asked with genuine pleasure and surprise in her voice. "Perhaps I could speak to you for a few moments… if you have the time?"
The greed that she had tried to hide was now naked on her face, as was the calculating look she was giving Harry. It was almost like he was a thick, beautifully prepared steak and she hadn't eaten in days. Behind his mask, Harry felt contaminated by that look although none of his distaste showed on his countenance.
He gently moved her to the corner of the room and he could see that she was about to object to the public nature of their conversation so he acted.
Quicker than she could blink, his wand came out and she flinched as it came up with the speed of a striking serpent. Layers and layers of privacy spells flew from his wand and then he placed several obscuring charms over the top of them.
"I'm tired," Harry said while his shoulders slumped and his body seemed to scream his exhaustion into the very air around him. "Of being lied about, of being misconstrued and maligned in the press and the Wizarding World."
She seemed about to object to the dismissal of everyone in her profession until he waved her away. "Oh, not by you… I would never believe that of you. It's not just the press though, authors, politicians and pretty much anyone that was supposed to care for me has lied about or abandoned me when I needed them the most. The thing that is annoying me the most at the moment though is those damn children books that are apparently true records of my life."
The opaque shield that he was behind with her seemed not to just shield her from the others in the room but, himself as well.
"Really?" Rita latched on to the last sentence with the tenacity of a bulldog. He could almost see all of the permutations of what might have happened to them and, given his own broken demeanour, the conclusions that she was drawing were far from a happy home life or enchanted clouds.
Exactly as he had planned. "Are you saying that they are false?"
"Deeply," Harry drew out slowly as if struggling with great pain, and then seemed to come to a sudden realisation and great idea. "I'll tell you what, if you ask the questions that you wanted to about the Tournament and report my answers faithfully I'll promise to answer truthfully in return. More than that though… I'll give you an exclusive about my early life. Think of it, no one has ever asked me about what I remember, no one has ever asked me for my opinion… you could be the first."
"Why do you think that I'd be here to ask you about the Tournament rather than simply everyone?" she hedged, stalling for time, as she tried to quickly think it over.
She was unnerved by his frank and piercing look even as he snorted in amusement.
He knew what she would choose even if she was working through it herself at this very moment. The downsides were that she would piss off some very powerful people but he knew that she was used to that and she was also wary of the fact that Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived or not, was a virtual unknown.
The upsides though would far outweigh those concerns. He would grow into a social and political powerhouse once he came into his majority and he would, theoretically, owe her a favour or three if she gave ground now.
Added to that, the immediate rewards were clear. More fame than she had ever had before, not to mention the prestige and wealth from the articles alone.
He did not doubt that she would want to betray him eventually but, as long as it was effectively an easy way to enhance her career and make money, she wouldn't and when she did (if her previous actions were any indication) she would intend to make just as much tearing him down as well.
"Why else would you be here? This is an important event certainly, but to send the Prophet's star reporter? It has to be for the Boy-Who-Lived. If it wasn't I wouldn't be seeing your lovely face but that of say...Merriweather or Pompi... The Prophets lesser reporters, the hacks."
"Five," she said out of the blue and to his continuing stare. "Five articles and I'll agree to your terms. Surely that's not too much to ask? You can't expect a journalist of my calibre to write about something so intriguing as the Boy-Who-Lives life in only one article?"
"Two," he countered, happy to be bargaining with the woman as it meant that he was right and she had, for now at least, accepted his terms. He also knew that anything she wrote would be front-page news, especially anything involving him.
"Four," she conceded with false reluctance, trying to convince the boy that she was giving ground to him and getting the bare minimum that she needed, even though that couldn't be further from the truth.
"Three," Harry countered with both a tone of finality and a hint of steel in his voice. Despite her being unnerved by his shifting demeanour, he could tell she was wavering so he added incentive. "I'll even throw in an extra article for free, though not about me. This one would tell the true story of Sirius Black."
"Your family's betrayer? The right hand of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Suddenly this deal had gotten much more interesting for her, as well as much trickier and potentially much more lucrative as well.
Her jaw almost dropped at his simple reply even as she had to strain to hear it as his voice had become very soft with his next words.
"Or so everyone else believes."
"Memory strands for verification included with every article?" Now her voice had lost any sense of false sweetness and revealed the cold and hard bitch beneath, if only for a moment before it came back full force. "It's not that I doubt you, Harry but this is Sirius Black we are talking about."
"Of course," Harry replied, not believing the woman for a second but staying in character and offering her a smirk anyway.
The conversation came to an abrupt halt as Harry raised his hand to stop the exchange between them. He could just about make out a human figure approaching his spell work and, even if he didn't, he could feel it being torn apart.
"It appears we are about to be interrupted in our private conversation." Harry put a special emphasis on the word private, one which she caught easily enough if the widening of her eyes and hasty nod were any indication. "If you can agree to what we have discussed then my elf will be by your offices tonight for your list of questions. If not then he has merely wasted a trip."
Then, and only then, did he allow the charms to unravel mere moments before the intruder would have removed them anyway.
"Harry my boy," said the Headmaster "I was unaware that you and the lovely miss Skeeter were acquainted?" Although phrased as a statement it clearly was a question on the elder man's part.
"Headmaster," Harry replied neutrally and avoiding the question for the moment.
"How are you, Headmaster? Harry and I were just about to have a discussion." Rita added smoothly.
"About what may I ask?"
"Sadly" Harry interjected, while sending Dumbledore a convincingly grateful look and lying through his teeth, "we never got that far I'm afraid. Isn't it time for… well whatever this is anyway?"
"Quite right you are too, quite right," Dumbledore replied jovially though Harry could see the small trace of satisfaction in his eyes at the idea they hadn't managed to talk yet. "Well done my boy. Well done."
'I wonder if he realises that I hate that. All it does is remind me of Vernon as the absolute nicest name he ever screamed at me was boy.' Harry thought grimly.
With that, all the players moved back to their respective places and the Weighing of the Wands began. Harry was grateful that his necklace was covered though, as he had no doubt it would have been glowing softly.
He had felt it vibrate during the pomp and ceremony twice.
-HPCOD-
Dumble had been waylaid by Madame Maxine (and if she wasn't a half-giant then Harry would eat his hat...point and all) and was deep into a discussion on the difference between teaching methods between the two schools before he could get away.
So, while he was unwillingly distracted Harry made his escape.
In his later years, Harry would have attributed his surprising skill with Rita and his confident attitude on that day to two things. The first of which (and his opinion the least important) was his fledgeling skill with Occlumency but the main part was something altogether different.
Spending the better part of a week with a copy of his father and the embodiment of a thousand-year-old castle that not only had the lessons of countless people but also the teaching styles and (through them) the experience to choose the best teaching method for him to maximise his potential.
To some, even to other orphans, this would still have only had a negligible effect but, before the Dursleys had tried to beat it out of him and he had to hide it, he had always had a love of practical learning.
Added to that he had wanted to meet his parents and know that they were proud of who he was now long before the Mirror of Erised.
Even though he knew that it wasn't quite his father he had, almost ravenously, studied the way James walked, the way he talked, moved and seemed to charm those that he needed to (although Ravenclaw remained unmoved, much to Harry's amusement).
It wasn't even a conscious decision on his part and, to him, it was more like he was channelling James as much as it was a trait of his own.
In time he would, depending on your perspective, either put his own spin on it and make it his own or simply let his own natural charm (which had long been neglected and largely suppressed) shine through.
All of which would help to explain Harry's unsure actions immediately following the Weighing of the Wands as, when he left the room, he was confronted by his long-suffering best friend.
She was also clearly very angry at him.
"Harry James Pott-" she began shouting, drawing a crowd which he did not want, only to be stopped abruptly by Harry leaning forwards and capturing her lips in a hot and passionate kiss.
He may not have much (or any for that matter) at kissing girls and it may have started out as a way of shocking her into silence but, within a second or so, it had turned into something far more.
All of his emotions suddenly rushed to the forefront of his mind. He had known he cared for her deeply and he also knew that she was his closest friend. Now though he realised that she was so much more to him than his upbringing had ever allowed him to guess.
So he did the only thing that he could, he poured all of his newly released passion, all of his realised desire into the kiss. He was more than surprised and ecstatic when she responded as hungrily as him.
Although it was probably only a few seconds, they couldn't tell you as time took a backseat for the both of them as they lost themselves in each other for a time. Their hands twitched as if they had a mind of their own and they wanted to wander to new, unfamiliar and exciting places.
Eventually, all things must end though and with a second, much smaller peck on her beautiful lips, Harry withdrew while taking stock of her flushed and dumbstruck face.
"Not here," he whispered to her while being slightly out of breath and he took her hand in his. They stared at each other in a sort of dazed wonderment. "I have a place where we can talk."
With that, a glowing, bemused, blushing, smiling and giddy Hermione Granger silently followed Harry as he moved through the school and towards the Room of Requirement.
Neither let go of the other one's hand for a second.
Right before they got there though, on the currently empty seventh floor (where there were no paintings or anyone else around) Harry stopped so suddenly that Hermione almost collided with his back.
"Err…" Harry said as his brain fully rebooted and he realised something. "I know I probably should have asked before but… will you be my girlfriend?"
"Do you really think," Hermione replied with some amusement and as the question had broken her out of her daze, "that I would let anyone but my boyfriend kiss me like that?"
Harry couldn't help the goofy grin that formed on his face at that moment and it seemed that his best response was to kiss her again until they both had to separate again for a lack of oxygen.
So he went with that.
-HPCOD-
Hermione was speechless for the second time that day.
If someone had told her that this rare feat would have happened twice in one day she would have, at best, rolled her eyes at them while privately dismissing them as an idiot.
Then again, she never would have expected her friend Harry, strong, shy and quiet Harry, to kiss her so hard her toes twitched and there was no one else in the world but her.
If someone had suggested that she would have hexed them into next week and (privately of course) have naughty thoughts about it for at least a few days afterwards.
When the kiss had happened she had naturally assumed that the surprises were over for quite a while.
She was speechless again as she faintly realised, only in the back of her mind and over her own shock, that she couldn't have been more wrong about that as Harry spoke one simple sentence.
"Welcome, my dear, to the Room of Requirement."
Beyond a nondescript door that was so bland, no one would give it a second glance (if it hadn't formed from a tapestry of dancing trolls) was an open planned flat.
Her mind absently noted that it was separated into four distinct quadrants with only one area walled off (that she right assumed to be a bathroom) from the others on the bottom right of the room.
The top left corner was clearly a training area of sorts. She would later learn that it had state of the art duelling dummies placed randomly about it. She did notice the many runes that appeared to be grown into the nearby walls rather than carved, as if the walls had formed around them somehow. There were even targets of varying sizes and distances from the centre all along the two walls and pretty much any object that could hold one.
There was random bric-a-brac strewn across the floor and, for half a second, she couldn't understand why until she realised that it made a crude obstacle course.
Under other circumstances, the top right of the flat would have been her first port of call.
One of the two walls was literally stacked with books and they were packed so tightly that it occurred to her that there was no way he could remove one to read without magic. The final wall was melded into the back of a couch with a dark coffee table that held a reading light in front of it.
Along with the sofa and in the areas nearby, there was also a padded chair that looked so luxurious that it was like you could submerge yourself in it rather than do something as mundane as sit.
The reason that she was distracted from her natural weakness for books was because of what she saw on her immediate left as she entered the flat.
At first glance, what was there should have been innocuous to the flustered girls intent glance. Harry's school trunk was the first thing she saw, along with some sort of fake window that showed the outside of the castle. Neither of which were attention-grabbing enough to distract her from the books on their own.
Then her eyes landed on the bed that had been made with near military precision. It could easily fit at least four people in it with room to spare.
Normally, this wouldn't distract her at all but, given what they had just been doing in the halls (not to mention the mood it had left her in) she flushed down to the middle of her neck.
She was both oddly annoyed and very happy with the images that would not leave her head.
"And this is the Aspect of the Room, currently in the form of Rowena Ravenclaw," Harry said as he was seemingly not done surprising her yet.
Golden motes of light appeared out of nowhere and quickly coalesced into the form of a stunningly beautiful woman.
"Greetings," she said calmly.
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" Hermione screamed and then, in an almost reflexive mortification, she slapped her hand over her mouth even as Harry chuckled and Rowena smiled faintly.
"Harry," Ravenclaw said "why don't you go train your skills for a little while? I will explain what is going on to your lady. Give her your necklace first though please."
"It activated twice while I was gone. Will you offer the same Ritual of Cleansing to her that you gave me?"
"If she wishes. It was Dumbledore then?" Ravenclaw asked with a dark look on her face.
"Yes," he answered even as he turned to Hermione. He studied her face for a long moment, searching for something indefinable there. "If she trusts me she does."
"We suspected" Ravenclaw stated and, by her bleak look, Hermione could tell that she was not talking about her but rather something the Headmaster had done.
"Now we know" Harry responded icily even as he gently placed a strange necklace around her neck, kissed the back of it lightly and then moved towards his training area.
When he entered it the strange runes flared into life and quickly formed a solid blue shield that completely blocked her view of him.
"Now," Ravenclaw said, turning to her "first the Ritual and then we can have a little chat shall we?"
"Will it hurt?" She asked, unknowingly echoing her boyfriend, even as Ravenclaw smiled though not unkindly.
"What is a little pain between friends?"
-HPCOD-
Many hours later, Harry finished his training and, as the deep blue shield faded into the nothingness from which it came, he felt he had made some small progress in learning his new skills.
He was helped by the fact that, although the Aspect of the room couldn't assume two personalities at a time, it could be in two places in the Room at the same time though not for any decent length of time.
Harry walked out of his area and straight into the middle of a conversation about Ravenclaw's nature.
"...still don't understand though, are you Hogwarts or the Aspect of the Room? Are you one entity or are you separate?" Hermione asked with her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Both and both. If you take a small amount of water from the sea it becomes a drop, yes?"
"Yes."
"Then, if you return the drop to the sea, it becomes the sea again," Ravenclaw answered as simply as she knew how.
"So, when the Room is in use you are separate and distinct but when the Room closes again…" Hermione began only for Ravenclaw to finish for her.
"The drop becomes the sea again. Essentially correct, if the drop and the sea were both able to talk to each other while they are not one entity."
"Are there other limitations specific to you rather than the Room in general and how does your own sense of self differ from that of Hogwarts as a whole?"
"Language is...imprecise" began Hogwarts, "but yes. Like everything else in the Room, I must be at least partially summoned or I do not form. Hogwarts as an entity is...vast and it's not that it's simplistic merely...alien in its outlook when compared to you. Every time that I form and interact with others I provide it with a much needed human perspective…"
"Sorry for interrupting," said Harry, "but I've worked myself ragged. I'm tired, starving and, with all the love in the world, I don't need a headache too."
"Where do you get your food?" Hermione asked him "I don't see a kitchen here."
"Dobby bonded to me. When in doubt about anything...it's usually Dobby and, given everything, he should probably be making your food too" Harry replied cheekily.
"Bonded? We are going to be talking about that soon. Why should I be worried about my food exactly?" Hermione was not very happy with him at the moment.
"There is a book over there on House-elf bonds. Read that before judging me, verify it with Rowena and then I will happily talk with you about it. All I can say is...it's really easy for some people to put potions in your food."
After Hermione paled Harry barked sharply "What? What am I missing?"
Potions were found in her food" Ravenclaw said firmly. "A mild revulsion potion targeted to you, a libido repressor, several loyalty potions keyed to the staff that had been partially broken and being intermittently dosed with the early stages of a love potion set to Ronald Weasley."
"What are the side effects of the potions being flushed from so quickly?" Hermione asked, obviously preoccupied and disgusted with the idea of the potions.
"The only long term effect is for Harry. His magical power will increase by a large sum as the potions in his system caused his magic to compress and strengthen to try and fight the bindings. However, I cannot tell by how much until it settles or until he goes through his magical maturity at seventeen. The only short term effect is one that you both have and it is a...lowering of your self-control when it comes to sexual matters. It should only last a week or so before you have control again."
"So," Hermione said blushing "we have lost a chastity potion and are now… randy until we adapt? Our thoughts are still ours, as are our bodies and our feelings are still real. We'll just have a hard time keeping our...minds… out of the gutter."
"Essentially correct," Rowena agreed.
"So, what's next?" Harry asked, just as uncomfortable discussing this as Hermione was and trying to change the subject.
"For Hermione? The book that you have suggested, plus Occlumency: Make Your Mind a Fortress. For you, I suggest Charms: Defense and Distraction and Rituals: How to Survive Them and Why to study."
As Ravenclaw spoke the books in question floated from the pile and landed softly in their hands.
"I probably should make my own necklace," added Hermione, even as Harry grumbled.
"Rituals again? Charms too?"
"Charms were your father's weakness Harry, not yours, and that was part of the reason he focused so much on Transfiguration" Ravenclaw pointed out firmly. "Time is still a factor so rituals could be very important. They will take time to set up though and, aside from the Ritual of Guidance, it would be best to perform them on the nearest powerful day."
"Which would be?" Harry pressed.
"Long night, the 21st of December" was the dual reply of both Hermione and Ravenclaw.
"Harry," Hermione said with a frown "I don't think this can go on forever."
Harry's heart felt constricted in his chest. 'She can't be breaking up with me already.'
Seeing the look on Harry's face Hermione continued, "Oh no...I didn't mean that Harry." She blushed "I'm very happy with that. I meant that we can't remain hidden here forever…"
"School is an issue I know," admitted Harry even as he grinned at Ravenclaw "but we have an ally...as much as she is able. Apart from that, I don't really know any teachers that wouldn't defer to the Headmaster over us or seek to use us for themselves."
"I wasn't talking about school Harry. I was talking about an adult in a position of power."
"Same problem then, I'm afraid. I do have an… arrangement… with Rita Skeeter."
"Which is all well and good," Hermine admitted, "as is the fact that we are partially safe here but, I was actually thinking more about Dumbledore's other positions in the Government."
"I still have no clue who we could contact," Harry said.
"I have an idea of one. Amelia Bones is rumoured to be fair and uncowed by both Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy."
"Susan's aunt?" Harry grimaced as he asked the question and thought of the redhead who, while very pretty and well endowed, was one of the most prominent badge wearers. She also didn't defend him during his second year.
"She is also the head of the D.M.L.E. and if we contact her, if she agrees to help us, then we stand a chance. Dumbledore, Malfoy, the Ministry and the Wizengamot would be at the very least delayed."
"It appears that you have a few letters to write today Harry" interjected Ravenclaw.
"A few letters? To who?" Hermione queried.
"Skeeter, Gringotts and thanks to you, Amelia Bones. Even if she accepts Rita's article will take a few days."
"Well then, you'll have to call Dobby soon while I do some reading on House-elves," Hermione said while guiding him to the sofa. She then picked up the book and snuggled into his side. "I think I'm going to try out my new seat here for a while before I have to go… curfew being what it is."
"To help with that," Ravenclaw said happily. "I can make you a new necklace."
Harry put his arm around Hermione and let out a sigh of contentment. Under Ravenclaw's gaze he also quietly picked up one of the books he was supposed to read.
"I wouldn't worry too much about curfew after tomorrow," He said to his girlfriend.
"Oh?" she asked, already slightly distracted by her new book.
"It's a surprise," Harry teased. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I will say that you're going to need to borrow my cloak though."
Plans were afoot.