Harry double-checked his things, making sure he had everything he needed before walking downstairs with his worldly possessions. Today was the day he would leave the Dursley's for the summer, his three weeks having finally been fulfilled.
He was more than pleased about this fact, Aunt Petunia had been incredibly needy, not to mention his inability to practice his magic was driving him mad. After having spent the last ten months constantly casting spells every single day, he could practically feel the magic coursing in his veins, begging to be released. He had never felt anything like this before Hogwarts.
"And exactly where do you think you are going?"
Looking up Harry saw Aunt Petunia, glaring at both him and his trunk. Oh right, he never told her he was only going to be around for three weeks. Shit.
"Leaving, the wards here only required my presence for three weeks."
"What? You will do no such thing; I have not given you permission for this. Take your trunk back up to your room!"
"No."
She froze in disbelief, staring at him; did he just willingly disobey her? Harry felt his eyes widen, he hadn't disobeyed an order from his Aunt in several years, yet suddenly it felt so natural. Steeling his resolve, he narrowed his eyes, he had far too many important things to deal with this summer to let himself be kept at the Dursley's, not to mention that he far preferred the company of Susan and Amelia.
She seemed to snap out of her shock, glaring at him as she swiftly closed the distance between them. She received her second shock of the day as the hand she had intended to twist his ear with was grabbed before it got close to his head. Harry stared at his hand as he easily restrained his Aunt, slowly realizing that her advantage of being stronger had completely disappeared.
He watched her struggle, even using both hands as his hand easily kept her steady, the sweet flow of magic amplifying his strength without a second thought. He realized he didn't even need to look up to her anymore, having grown so much taller over the last few years. Suddenly the woman that had seemed so imposing, so commanding and terrifying was just…a muggle.
"No, Aunt Petunia."
He locked eyes with her and saw her anger give way to disbelief before slowly pathing the way to grudging acceptance. They both knew he was stronger, even invoking Vernon's name would do nothing. Harry stared at her, watching her eyes accept the truth and felt a deep satisfaction blossom in his chest. He felt... free. Powerful. In control.
Leaving was his decision, his decision alone. His magic seemed to thrum in satisfaction as he let go of her hand, knowing the power in the household had completely shifted in the span of minutes. He let a genuine smile spread on his lips as he grabbed his trunk and Hedwig's cage before marching out of the house.
"See you next year Aunt Petunia. Maybe."
Walking out of the ward coverage that was spread over Privet Drive, he grabbed the timed portkey Amelia had provided, waiting patiently for the device to activate. It activated exactly on time, sending the world spinning in a kaleidoscope of color as the magic grabbed him and deposited him on the Bones Manor front lawn. He flexed his knees by habit and grinned as a redhead instantly slammed into him, grabbing him into a tight hug. The sense of freedom felt intoxicating and he hugged her back while spinning her around with a loud whoop.
"Hello Susan!"
"Hello Harry, I guess don't need to ask if you're happy to be here."
She smoothed out her skirt as she tried to hide her flushing face, hugging him had felt like hugging a battery made out of magic, sending pleasurable sparks trailing across her skin.
"It feels great, my summer can finally begin."
She narrowed her brown eyes at that sentence, not liking the sound of it, but Harry just waved it away, grabbing his things and heading towards the manor.
"Come on, I want to do some magic, having to act like a muggle for almost a month has sucked."
Harry was slightly startled as the words left his mouth, yet the more he thought about it the more he felt it fit. He was better than the Dursley's. Superior. He didn't think it necessarily meant he would look down on all muggles but he felt apart from them, as if they were a different race altogether.
The confrontation between him and Aunt Petunia had proven it; he was something more than they were. It filled him with a sense of purpose as he marched towards the guest room Susan pointed out; he could never be someone average; he was going to be the Lord of his house.
After stowing away his things he followed Susan to the main dining room; spotting Amelia grousing over the Daily Prophet.
"Auntie, Harry's here."
Amelia looked up, spotting the jittery teen standing next to Susan. She could practically feel the magic emanating from him.
"Hello Madam Bones."
"Harry, I have repeatedly told you to call me Amelia."
"Sorry, err, Amelia."
She took in the grin, watching the boy practically bouncing on his feet. She could've sworn it looked like he was suffering from an overload of magic, something that shouldn't be possible in someone who hasn't spent years around magic. Like the rest of the human body, the magic adapts to its environment.
That is the reason why spell researchers who spend years casting spells and then suddenly retire sometimes suffer from magical overload, a state of increased magic flowing through the body. Glancing at Susan she saw her blushing brightly while glancing at Harry, no doubt being caught by the stray magic he was emanating. Merlin, but the boy was only about to start his second year and was in this state, it was unheard of. Deciding to do something about it she pulled out her wand.
"Well Harry, let's see if they've taught you anything at that school. That is unless you're afraid of little old me?"
The wide answering grin as he whipped out his own wand was all she needed to know.
"Let's go outside, this is a bad place to let off some steam."
She saw him glance at her in surprise and only smirked in return, she had apparently read all the signs correctly, the boy was practically itching to do some magic.
Harry waited for her signal before instantly snapping off a banishing charm, feeling the magic course through his body. He weaved through his small assortment of spells with pleasure, the familiar feeling of casting soothing his mind. Amelia seemed content to just parry and dodge his spells while he kept up the offense.
He was almost certain she knew about his urge to do magic and had used this impromptu duel to let him get it out of his system. While it felt good to finally do some magic, he was quickly growing annoyed at how easily Amelia was countering his attacks.
The memory of his encounter with Voldemort was still fresh on his mind and it filled him with frustration at how easily he had been defeated by the man, even while he possessed someone else.
He knew he should be dead, only the protection left by his dead mother had saved him. Again. He felt anger rise at the thought, he was still just as helpless as a new-born and only his mother's protection was keeping him alive. He focused his Occlumency into his casting, channeling his anger into his spells, feeling his magic rise in agreement.
Amelia raised her eyebrows slightly as she felt his spells increase in power, a look of total concentration on the teenager's face. She had to admit she was impressed; his speed and power was far beyond what it should be for a student just about to start his second year. Feeling that she had given him enough time to exercise his magic she started up on her offense, throwing stinging hexes in between her parries, studying his movement as he gracefully dodged her simple spells while keeping up his attack.
It was clear he was receiving tutoring, as his development since the winter was impressive. Deciding to end it she threw a quick spell-chain at him, chaining offensive spell one after another as he tried to desperately avoid them. A stunning spell clipped his arm, numbing it just before a Expelliarmus threw his wand into her hands.
Harry stared in both anger and awe at her as she handed his wand back, the casting she had done at the end was just like what Voldemort had done, bombarding him with spells faster than he thought possible.
"How did you do that?"
"It's called spell chaining, it's the art of merging the wand movements of one spell into the next. For example, the severing charm, Diffindo, requires you to sweep your wand at the end of the cast, while the Stupefy spell starts with a quick sweep of the wand. This allows you to end one spell and start the next one with the same movement, speeding up your casting significantly."
"Wow. Can you teach that to me?"
She studied him for a moment before replying,
"Unlikely."
Seeing him about to argue she continued,
"At least not yet. Spell chaining requires not only mastery over silent casting but also intense mental focus, as you have to focus on multiple spells while keeping your wand movements accurate. You have the potential to achieve both of the requirements, thanks to your early forays into the art of Occlumency, but teaching the art to you before that would be like teaching Quidditch manoeuvres to a muggleborn that has never touched a broom before."
Harry pressed his lips together but nodded, her arguments made sense, that didn't help his frustration though. He was starting to comprehend how much he still had to learn. He also realized the difference between duelling someone like Tonks and duelling someone like Amelia, the skill gap between the witches was monumental. He didn't even want to consider how far ahead someone like Voldemort or Dumbledore was, having spent decades refining their talent.
Remembering Mistress Narcissa's words about whining never having solved anything, he tucked his wand back in and followed the Bones women into the dining hall for dinner. He might still be far from the dream he saw in the mirror of Erised, but that didn't change the fact that he intended to do whatever was necessary to achieve it.
XXX
Harry groggily woke up the next day, yawning as he stretched in the luxurious guestroom bed, before grabbing a shower and heading downstairs. Amelia had already left for work and Susan had yet to wake up, so he didn't bother disturbing her, knowing her morning temper.
Grabbing some toast, he made a quick sandwich before walking over to the floo. Today was the day he had agreed to meet Mistress Andromeda to have his scar examined, something he had already cleared with Amelia. With a pinch of floo powder and a murmured "Leaky Cauldron", he found himself flung into the dingy pub, struggling to keep his balance.
Righting himself he scanned the bar, quickly spotting Mistress Andromeda sipping a cup of coffee at a table near the door. She was almost impossible to miss when she bothered to dress in her robes, the dark blue robe clung to her figure and her facial features practically screamed noble to anyone that happened to glance her way.
She was indeed receiving plenty of appreciative looks but no one seemed inclined to bother her, the pureblood vibe she was putting off was quite intimidating. Knowing there were eyes and ears on them Harry greeted her with a simple "Mrs. Tonks", watching amusement dance in her dark eyes.
"Hello Harry, have you eaten breakfast?"
"Yes, I grabbed a sandwich before I floo'd over."
"Hmpf, that hardly constitutes a proper breakfast. Nevertheless, let's get going then."
Harry covertly rolled his eyes at her, Mistress Andromeda still treated him like when she had first seen him in the muggle school, as someone who was too skinny for his age. He had eaten properly for years, his magic fixing any issues of malnutrition he had had at a young age.
He couldn't even get annoyed at her because it felt good to have someone looking out for him. Following her out while trying to keep his eyes away from the way the thin summer robes clung to her hips, he continued the conversation,
"So where is it we're going?"
"St. Mungo's, it's a wizarding hospital. I have a friend there, who knows to be discrete, he also happens to be an expert at curse wounds."
Reaching the apparition point she grabbed his arm before disapparating with a soft pop, bringing them both to the lobby of St. Mungo's. Mistress Andromeda led him past the waiting receptionist into the elevator, pressing the button for the fourth floor, labeled 'Spell Damage'.
The doors opened with a soft ping and Harry once again followed Andromeda as she navigated through the hospital with practiced ease. She pointed at a locked set of doors that had a receptionist waiting outside as they walked past,
"That's the Janus Thickey Ward, a long-term residence ward for spell damage the Healers could never fully fix."
"Oh."
"Oh indeed, I pointed it out because the parents of a boy in your year, Neville Longbottom, have been residing there for over a decade. Overexposure to the Cruciatus."
He looked up startled at that, realizing how many people in his year had suffered from the war. Himself, Susan, Hannah and now apparently Neville. He vaguely remembered the Longbottom boy, mostly because he was sorted into Gryffindor and behaved even less Gryffindor than Hermione.
"Here we are."
Andromeda knocked on a door labelled Healer Augustus Starchwood, getting a steady "come in" in response. The old man that looked like Dumbledore without a beard stood up as they entered the room, kissing the knuckles of Andromeda before shaking Harry's hand.
"Hello there Mr Potter, I am Healer Starchwood but just call me Augustus."
"Umm, a pleasure."
The man simply chuckled at his obvious hesitation before gesturing to a chair opposite his.
"Sit down please; let's get this under way, Andy was rather adamant about getting your scar examined."
He didn't mention that he was almost giddy to examine the curse scar; Healers across Britain had been dying to examine the scar after they heard about his unexpected survival. He knew Andy was aware of this fact so when she requested a discrete examination, he was more than happy to provide.
Harry watched warily as the man cast multiple diagnostic spells at his forehead while softly muttering under his breath. He caught the occasional Latin word he recognized but couldn't make out enough to get a grasp on his casting.
Glancing to the side he saw Mistress Andromeda staring intently at the spectacle, he knew that she was not pleased with the way the scar had been acting up in the presence of Quirrell. Especially not after they had figured out Quirrell was possessed by the person who gave him the scar. He saw Healer Starchwood frown at what his spells were telling him, before he wrinkled his bushy eyebrows and cast a new spell.
"Aghhhhh!"
Harry gasped out as pure pain shocked through his head, feeling like a bar of molten metal had been shoved into his scar. Holding his hand to his forehead he was shocked to feel blood flowing through his fingers as the pain slowly abated.
Opening his eyes, he stared in awe as Mistress Andromeda stood next to him, her wand pointed at the Healers eye as black sparks of lightning travelled up and down the wand. Looking into her face he saw pure murder, the dark eyes narrowed in hate as her robe softly billowed around her shapely figure. Healer Starchwood held up his hands in alarm, attempting to placate the irate woman,
"Peace, peace! I did not expect that reaction!"
"What did you do?" The words were a cold hiss and made Harry realize that regardless of her name right now, Andromeda had been originally raised as a Black. He also felt relieved that he had never managed to make her this pissed at him.
"It was just a basic flesh cleansing spell, intended to remove any remaining spell residue. The reaction however was…strange. I think the scar is...well, either warded or somehow linked to him. Either straight to his magical core or to his soul. It shouldn't have reacted like that!"
They both frowned at that; spell residue from Voldemort was not something either of them wanted linked to Harry. It was Harry who responded, glancing at Mistress Andromeda in the hopes that she wouldn't kill the man for doing his job.
"What would you recommend?"
"Recommend? I have never seen anything like it. But in all honesty, I think a curse-breaker might know better what we're dealing with. I'd recommend visiting Gringotts, they tend to poach the best curse-breakers for their expeditions."
Andromeda thought it over for a few seconds before holstering her wand.
"Thank you, Augustus, we'll be off then."
She ushered Harry out of the room and completely out of the hospital. Making sure his scar had stopped bleeding she grabbed him and apparated them directly to Diagon Alley, marching straight towards Gringotts. The more she learned about this scar the more adamant she was to get it out of him as soon as possible.
Walking to the nearest teller it only took them a minute to get a private room and the promise of a curse-breaker being sent up. While goblins were devious and unhelpful creatures, they were above everything greedy, which combined with the fact that curse-breakers got paid by the hour meant they were more than happy to provide the service.
Only five minutes later did the door open to let in a grizzled looking man who looked he was in his early fifties, hints of grey in his cropped hair. Not bothering with any niceties, he got right to the point,
"Curse-breaker Edgar Weatherby, but call me Edgar. You the folks that requested immediate service?"
"I am Andromeda Tonks and this is Harry Potter, I assume anything we discuss and do here is covered by the secrecy laws pertaining Gringotts customers?"
He grunted in reply, eyeing them both.
"Good, then the problem is this."
She lifted his fringe, showing the inflamed scar.
"A Healer at St. Mungo's recommended a curse-breaker."
Edgar's eyebrows lifted in surprise at that, for a scar to be sent forward to him it had to be something special. Then again, he thought, eyeing the scar; it didn't exactly occur under normal circumstances.
"Right." He grunted before opening the door to let a goblin in, all transactions between Gringotts and wizards had to be supervised by a goblin. While Weatherby was a wizard he was also under the direct employ of Gringotts, making the goblin presence a necessity.
"Sit down."
Harry did as ordered and watched as the gruff man started throwing spells at his scar, sending shivers up and down his back as he felt it react to the various magic's. Weatherby seemed to systematically advance through different detection spells, his wand movements increasing in complexity the longer it took.
Harry watched the man's face scrunch up with every spell he cast before finally getting a reaction from a spell he cast. He seemed to stare at the result before repeating the spell, as in disbelief at what he was seeing. Swearing loudly, he turned to the goblin, muttering one word.
"Horcrux."
Harry glanced at Mistress Andromeda but she didn't seem to recognize the word, only staring patiently at the curse breaker. The aged wizard walked over to the goblin and whispered furiously, both of them stealing glances at Harry as they spoke. When it seemed, they had reached an agreement the man turned to them and elaborated.
"A Horcrux is a piece of the soul stored in a container in order to anchor the rest of the soul to this plane of existence. Dark wizards usually use non-organic containers for their longevity and durability, but there's no misunderstanding the piece that's resting in that scar. It's a filthy piece of magic that's created through the sacrifice of life in the hopes of achieving immortality. Surprised it hasn't taken you over to be honest."
He eyed them both suspiciously when he said that but seemed to scoff when neither reacted. Harry was frozen solid at the information but he also knew why the piece had never been able to take him over, his mother's protection had burned Voldemort on contact, he had little doubt it was also the reason for the scar staying dormant. Andromeda swallowed a mouthful of bile at the thought of a piece of his soul sitting in Harry's head before she narrowed her eyes at the man.
"How do we remove it?"
"It can't be removed but." he glanced at the goblin, getting a nod and continued, "it can be moved."
"Moved?"
"Aye, moved, but it can't be done with wizarding magic, the soul fragment would no doubt react to that, any magic cast at it would probably strengthen it. It's piece of a wizard's soul after all, it thrives on wizard magic."
Andromeda nodded slowly at that, she had little reason to distrust the man after what they had witnessed at St. Mungo's. Piecing together his words and the meaning of his game, she turned her eyes to the goblin.
"And what does Gringotts want in return for moving the Horcrux?"
His green face split into a hideous grin, showing pointy teeth. His guttural voice uttered only one word,
"Votes."
"Votes?" She saw him glance at Harry and understood, the boy was about to claim two seats in the Wizengamot in just a few years; he would wield considerable political power.
"I hope you are not mad enough to think people would let you get away with claiming the votes permanently?"
His grin faded slightly and he coughed in agreement, wizards would never let goblins steal votes, the purebloods would go to war before letting that happen.
"We want him to vote according to our wishes five times."
"One time. You know as well as I do that, he will wield more than just the Potter vote."
"Four times, we are providing a service that will no doubt save his life."
Andromeda chuckled lightly, projecting such an arrogant pureblood persona that Harry almost confused her with Narcissa. They both also realized that the goblin had made no effort to counter her argument about him having more votes, confirming their suspicions about the Black will.
"Please, for all we know the dwarves and elves are just as capable at removing the scar. Who knows, your American counterparts might even do it cheaper. Two times."
The goblin growled at the mention of dwarves, they hated each other.
"Three times, we will go no lower. It will also be kept a secret from the rest of world. Who knows what rumors might spread about the Boy-Who-Lived if word got out that he was carrying a piece of the Dark Lord in his head."
Andromeda studied the goblin with cold dark eyes before turning to Harry, her eyes conveying the fact that she doubted they would get a better deal. Hiding his discomfort behind his Occlumency Harry nodded in return.
"Agreed. When will it happen?"
"Now. First he will sign a contract."
Andromeda nodded again, expecting as much. Goblins had no trust for wizards and were not going to take their word for it, only a binding magical contract would satisfy them. Harry stared in distaste as the goblin quickly scurried off to prepare things, he didn't like signing away power, even if it was temporary.
But even he had to admit that getting rid of the soul shard was paramount, just knowing about it made his whole head feel itchy, like he had a sudden urge to scrub his face clean. Ignorance is bliss might have a ring of truth behind it but he much rather adhered to the other saying of knowledge being power.
Only ten minutes later they were ushered into one ritual room located deeper in Gringotts, usually used pureblood blood rituals like blood adoption or verifying claims of heritage. The same Goblin thrust a contract at him which he carefully read before handing over to Mistress Andromeda to study.
He didn't consider himself stupid but knew very well that Andromeda knew far more about magical contracts than he did, there could be any number of loopholes that had been hidden from him. She studied it far longer than he did before handing it back with a nod.
The goblin grinned a toothy smile and handed over a blood quill, an object he was familiar with thanks to Mistress Narcissa's Wizengamot tutoring. He grudgingly signed the parchment, watching as it glowed blue and split into two identical copies, signifying the magical oath between him and Gringotts. Andromeda took one copy while the goblins took the other.
Harry tried not to look at how pleased the goblins seemed as they walked out, bowing to an old female goblin that walked in as they left. The old goblin was covered in necklaces and bracelets, all of them seemingly made out of bone and behind her she dragged a squealing pig.
She dragged the pig into the middle of the ritual circle before hamstringing it with practiced cuts of her dagger, making it squeal even louder. She pointed a long gnarly finger at Harry before gesturing to the middle of the circle where the pig was,
"You middle. No magical objects."
The voice was raspy, seemingly unused to forming English words instead of the guttural language goblins used. Harry hesitantly nodded, trying to ignore the high-pitched squeals of the pig as he handed over his wand to Mistress Andromeda. She smiled encouragingly at him, quickly squeezing his shoulder as he walked into the circle.
"Sit."
Doing as he was told he kneeled next to the pig, watching as she carved an unfamiliar rune into the abdomen of the pig, slicing through the flesh with ease. She dipped a long nail into the wound and used the blood to trace another set of runes on his forehead.
He watched with trepidation as her dagger sliced open his scar, letting a trickle of his blood mix with the runes she had drawn. She studied his forehead before grunting in satisfaction and putting the bloodied dagger down next to her. She picked up the gnarly wooden staff she carried with her and started chanting in a deep guttural language. He recognized it as Gobbledegook but could have sworn he heard Latin words mixed in, feeling the magic in the air respond to chants.
A feeling of pressure started to build in the air, heavy and oppressive as he felt blood markings on his forehead heat up. Her chanting got louder and more primal as he felt the very magic in the air press down on his runes, making his entire head feel like a boil that was about to burst.
When the pain was becoming unbearable, he felt her grab the back of his head before forcing his bleeding scar into the bleeding rune she had carved into the pig. With a last shouted guttural verse from her, he felt the pressure in his head burst, making him gasp in pain as a vileness flowed out of his scar and into the coarse bleeding flesh of the pig.
The goblin pulled his head away and dragged him out of the circle to where Andromeda was fretting. She gave his forehead one more glance before walking back into the circle and studying the pig.
The rune she had carved had healed in an ugly way, scarring the entire side of the animal and seeming to darken the flesh around it. With practiced hands she picked up the dagger and slit its throat, making it bleed out on the ritual floor.
Harry stared through hazy eyes as the same spectre he had seen rise from Quirrell's body raised its head from the pig, wailing and screaming in agony as it slowly disappeared. He let the encroaching darkness claim him with a sigh of relief.