Chapter 10

The staff stared in awe and wonder at the sight before them.

It was December 21st, the Solstice, and the Great Hall was bare. Every table was gone, the wall hangings had been removed and even the enchantment on the ceiling was gone. Bare stone walls and great wooden beams greeted them as they entered the cavernous room, empty except for the two figures and a fountain of Magic.

Over the last two days, every member of the Hogwarts staff - human or not - had been questioned and a judgement had been passed. All of the original teachers were staying for now, with varying degrees of happiness. Both professors Babbling and Vector had been ecstatic to see their favorite student return, though disappointed that Hermione would not be taking classes again. Flitwick was near reverent, which honestly was a bit disturbing for his former students. Pomfrey was a close second in the awed group, especially after the pair finished healing the rest of the worst hurt students. The Muggle Studies professor, Charity Burbage, had agreed to help where she could, but not even the power of Harry and Hermione could heal the scars on her soul from her treatment over the last year and she would retire after the end of the year. Hagrid had bawled his eyes out when they revealed their identities to him, though he had been a bit upset when they demanded he work closer to the prescribed syllabus for his classes. Trelawney claimed to have foreseen such a fortuitous reunion, yet had been appalled when she was informed there would be no new Divination classes. She could tutor any who showed talent, but would not subject those without any hope of actually accomplishing the craft to her classes. Professor Sprout was the calmest. She seemed to accept the change in stride, which had been disconcerting until they found out she was from a druid line, so the arts they practiced were not entirely unfamiliar to her.

Then there were the less welcome reactions. Argus Filch lost his job in the castle, and due to his outburst when informed of the new disciplinary standards, had actually been expelled from the grounds. The couple had not revealed their identities to him. Both Carrow twins and Dawlish had also been very upset with the new order of things. The twins had been incarcerated in an unused section of the dungeons only accessible to the headmistress, Harry, and Hermione. The dark mark on their forearms saw them liberally interrogated for information on the Dark Lord himself. Dawlish was not marked, he merely was a very ambitious blood purist. A transcript of his admitted crimes was returned attached to his chest when they finally threw him through the floo to the Ministry atrium. There was a betting pool on whether his crimes would see him punished or rewarded considering the state of the Ministry at the moment.

Snape had taken to his private brewing area in the dungeons with almost childlike glee and had been turning out healing drafts and the like with near abandon. It was unknown to him, but though the pair believed him, he was still being monitored twenty-four hours a day by a group of house-elves. It had shocked everyone to see the dour man actually crack a smile on occasion when he joined the staff for meals.

This morning however, the sight that greeted them as they entered stopped everyone cold. A pillar of ghostly flames burned from the floor, glowing with a mix of white and black haze around a crimson core. A pillar of red shot straight through the center, connecting the floor to the ceiling. A quartet of swirling sparks twisted around the pyre, trailing tails of crimson as they spun. Standing before this magic fire was Harry. He stood shirtless in loose black pants, his arms wide open. The magic's glow reflected off his skin, exposing his well muscled frame under the many scars he bore. They crossed his body like grid marks, most old but some more recent like the large oval on his right forearm, roughly the length of a finger. Standing before him was the twisted staff he used to heal those in the infirmary, its cap glowing the green of a pure emerald. As he stepped sideways, the unsupported staff moved with him, keeping itself in front of him and pulsing with his incantations. Slowly, he moved around the fire, his muttered words lost to the roar of the magic before them and the thrum of its power.

They saw Hermione come around the other side of the pyre, keeping herself exactly opposed to him as they moved in synchronicity. She was dressed in a snow white sleeveless gown, the bodice tight but not constricting on her torso before it flared at her hips. Her untamed hair flowed behind her as if in the wind, yet no air stirred in the Hall. Her tanned arms contrasted with the blinding white of the garment and she too was accompanied by a staff. Unlike Harry's, hers was a deep yet verdant brown mottled with spots of other colors throughout. The greens and softer floral colors glowed on it, reminding all that saw it of a garden coming to life, lush and bright in spring.

It took some time, but it soon became evident the pair were moving in concert towards some ritualistic purpose, their motions mirrored across the magic between them. The flames drew back slowly, their ferocity waning. They dissolved, shifting into swirling clusters like leaves on the wind. When the flames died, etheric green leaves began to form from their embers and take flight. The sparks of life affirming green swirled to every corner of the room, soaring around people and along the stone columns. One passed right through Minerva McGonagall and she gasped as the power of that leaf rejuvenated her. Aches she had not realized she had become accustomed to left her, and the bone deep ache in her left knee vanished. She stood straight without pain for the first time in decades and a sense of contentment filled her.

Neither of the pair seemed to pay the awed professors any mind, continuing their motions and channeling the power between them. The room seemed to sway in time with them, the power ebbing and flowing. Soon, the leaves were slowing their course, like they were being carried by a gentle breeze instead of a gale of wind. The power rocked and the leaves drifted. No longer propelled by the winds, they floated as if on the surface of a lake. They faded from green to blue and the power became water, gently lapping against the walls of the Great Hall. The teachers felt the tingle of the power as it flowed through them, rocking them like a child in their mother's arms.

The gathered observers could still see the pair circling, and saw the wake they left in the power as they moved. The water seemed to swell around them, as if pulled to them like the moon pulls the tide, lapping around their shoulders while it barely made it to the professors' waists. The motion slowed and died away, until the only real movement was around the powerful avatars performing this feat of magic.

The blue color of the magic ebbed, giving way to blacks and browns and greys. All motion stopped as the water became stone, solidifying around the room and leaving it full of rubble. Harry slowed his motions, as did Hermione, and yet they continued to walk around the center of the room. It took a moment as the transition was so slow, but they eventually realized that the pair were walking on the power as if it were real stones. The whole group was restricted like they were up to their torsos in sand, but the pair walked over the top like it was solid ground.

Light flared and the witnesses all covered their eyes, fighting to stay upright as raw magic washed over and through them one last time.

Once they recovered and their eyes had readjusted after the nova they'd been staring at faded, they saw the pair slowly walking towards them. Harry had put a shirt on and they both had redonned their cloaks, but they seemed very calm for the amount of magic they had just displayed.

"Good morning. Sorry for the disturbance, but the Great Hall was the best place to do the initial ritual," Harry smiled ruefully. "As we continue our rituals, we will endeavor to give you more advance warning and try not to disturb the students, but that may not be possible."

"Well, we shall in turn try to accommodate you in any way we can," Minerva reassured them, her voice still tainted with awe. "I thought you were performing the ritual last night?"

"We did, you just caught the last bit," Hermione confirmed. "The actual cleansing began last night, this was just a bit we could do to help it along. Magical Communion is the controlled release of wild magic, and if used properly it can replenish or temporarily boost one's natural gifts."

"Given the levels of power we are talking about, we are the only ones on the planet that could regulate, much less direct the power beneath us," Harry picked up the explanation. "As we are neither light nor dark casters, we are able to use both the tainted and untainted magics of the lake to cast. We reinforced and shored up the magics of the castle, as well as the forest around us."

"Speaking of which, Hagrid, care to explain the Acromantula problem in the forest? I know you are aware of how large the colony is becoming," Hermione turned to the Care of Magical Creatures instructor. Hagrid had the good graces to look abashed at least.

"They just want somewhere to live, they are seriously misunderstood creatures they are," he replied.

"I can appreciate that. However, while I laud your respect for all creatures, invasive species like Aragog and his kin can damage the environment around them. They have no natural predators here, so they grow unchecked."

"Aye, they may be a bit big, but Aragog looks after them, they don't bother nobody."

"Aragog is dying, Hagrid," Harry sighed. "The day he dies is the day the school is once more placed in danger from them. We won't allow that."

"You- can't just kill them, they're special."

"I agree, and as long as they agree to our terms, they will be well cared for."

"You intend to offer terms to the Acromantulas?" Minerva asked in shock.

"Why not? They are intelligent, thinking creatures. Besides, if this works out well, it will be a nice bit of income for the school."

"What are you intending, Mr Potter?" Snape asked cautiously. "I recognize that look. It was the same your father used to get when he was plotting some mischief."

"I wouldn't know, professor, but I am plotting some mischief, I will admit that. How much does Acromantula silk cost?"

"Depending on the quality, up to a hundred Galleons for a yard of finished fabric." Professor Vector supplied, then her eyes widened.

"Exactly, professor," Hermione smiled back at her. "We have what is likely the largest colony on the planet, and can control access to them. They will be moved, there is a large unclaimed island we know of that we can move them to, which will also help with population control. We will provide them food animals in exchange for prepared stocks of their silk. The exchange will be heavy in our favor, so defense of their island will be part of it as well."

"That's genius," Snape stared in reverence at their solution. "The animals alone would be cheap, so the school makes a massive profit from this, allowing them to reinvest it and keep making money."

"Precisely." Harry smiled at the former professor, then yawned. "And now, despite the appearance to the contrary, we are only human and have been up all night. We're going to bed. Enjoy your day professors."

Harry groaned as he woke up Christmas morning. It wasn't pain but contentment that fueled his morning sigh, as his wife was currently snuggled up to him and there just was nothing better than that in his mind.

"Merry Christmas, love." He inhaled deeply, burying his face in her neck as he did so.

"Morning," she sighed in return, then looked up at him. "Are we still planning on working on Sirius today?"

"Yeah," Harry's good mood turned sour as he thought about the fate of his godfather. They had returned to the mortal realm almost a week before they had arrived at Gringotts, both to acclimate to the world and to gather information. Part of gathering that information had been whisking Hermione's parents out of Britain with an oath on their magic to visit often. Last time they visited, the elder couple had been enjoying the summer beaches of Australia.

Another task that week had been trying to recover Sirius.

Their entry into the Fidelius protected Grimmauld place had been easy enough, but what they had found had almost broken Harry. Sirius Black was trying to die. He had really lost it when he had seen Harry, crying out about ghosts and revenge and crying his face off about his shame. It took weeks, and they were still working on it, but the fragile mind that had been left after twelve years of exposure to the dementors had not coped well at all with Harry's supposed death two years ago. In a truly evil act, Albus Dumbledore had attempted to force different memories upon the distraught man, fracturing his mind. Sirius currently lived in a remote house, cared for by a trio of loyal yet promiscuous elves that ensured he didn't try to kill himself again.

The mind was a wondrous and terrible thing, they had decided. They had learned so much about magic and the natural world, wondrous and deadly information was at their fingertips. Yet the mind remained a mystery. Hekate had explained that while she could give the gift of magic, it was the human soul that defined that magic and Sirius Black's soul was in tatters. The dementors didn't just feed on one's positive emotions, leaving you with just your negative ones. They also slipped themselves into your very soul, seeking the life force there. It was believed this was one of the reasons why long term exposure was suspected of causing infertility. Even if you left that exposure, the holes they would gnaw into you remained. Add to that the taste of freedom getting ripped from your mouth after a year on the run, your reason for continuing to live and fight seemingly murdered in the middle of a school sponsored event and more mental manipulations to try to make you forget it had happened at all, Sirius was lucky he still knew his name.

They had tried, and still were, but neither was holding out much hope of a full recovery for Harry's godfather. Maybe one day he would be able to accept that Harry was alive, not consumed by the magic of the Goblet, but they feared that day was a long way off.