Chapter 6: The Yule Ball and Christmas Tragedy

Time moved on in Hogwarts and the friendships that Harry and Hermione had begun to foster amongst their small group of friends had only deepened with time. Their studying had grown, in a small way, to include their friends and not just to help them learn but also because neither Harry nor Hermione could keep up their pace indefinitely.

The Common Room that had been created simply as a meeting place had grown along with them. Where there was once merely cosy chairs and a relaxed atmosphere, there were now personal touches from each and every one of them that spoke to each member of their group spending more and more time there.

Just by walking inside Harry could see a new batch of potted seedlings, courtesy of either Nevile or Hannah for whatever new plant they were interested in. He could see other things as well like the dog eared Auror's manual that Susan's aunt had given her, a long table with the twins latest gadget or prank half-assembled and all along one wall drawings done by Luna.

At that moment the room was fairly empty, with only one of the Weasley twins in attendance seemingly working on a potion's essay but (given that it was one of the twins) it could also have been a glamoured parchment with new prank ideas.

"Hey Fred," Harry said quietly as he entered the room and he glanced at the latest drawing on the wall, "that's new and surprising un-Luna like...what is it? It looks like a castle on an island."

"Well, you know Luna. I asked pretty much the same thing when she drew it and I think she said something like 'It's the place outside of time, where no mortal can go and live'... I didn't really want to ask anymore after she said that."

"I don't really blame you, we all love Luna but...she can come out with the strangest of things. That or…"

"Unintentionally knock the living shit out of you six ways to Sunday? Yep, that's our girl..." Fred chuckled "and it's never in the same way either, terrifying, embarrassing or bluntly crude… she always keeps you guessing."

"Do you have a crush there Fred?" Harry teased. "Where's George anyway?"

"Shut up Harry, she's like my little sister. Speaking of, that's sort of where George is, McGonagall caught him telling off Ginny about...some things." Fred's obviously vague reply perked Harry's interest, but Fred clearly didn't want to share what Ginny was saying or doing and he could respect that, as far as it was his family.

Before he could say anything about that however an owl flew through the ajar window and, with the ease of long practice, one of Harry's hands flicked out an owl treat from his pocket. As that went into a lazy arc in the air his other hand snagged the small and non-descript package that the owl was carrying aware that the Gringotts logo was emblazoned on it. "So, what's in the parcel?"

Harry almost imperceptibly hesitated.

Even with the uneven time that they had spent with their friends it had become common to see Harry and Hermione receive mysterious packages that were never opened, merely put away for later. Harry didn't want to lie and he was unsure how his friend would take the truth that they were supplies for rituals but, he was not stupid.

Though it would have been best for Harry and Hermione to leave Hogwarts and find the components themselves and then make the items needed, they couldn't afford to be missing for any length of time. This was doubly true because of the attention that would draw and the fact that it was always best if such things were harvested and made with as little magic as possible.

The worst-case (and therefore the least effective), would have been to simply buy the finished products and use them as-is. They both knew that having such a weak spiritual claim to the items used would increase the risk of failure so much that it would be tantamount to suicide if they were used.

So they were doing what they could in finding the best option that would work. They were buying the basest parts of what they needed and then making them by hand in the Room of Requirement. That was the reason for so many packages at all hours of the day and it was also the reason why Harry's Trust Vault was nearly empty.

Thankfully, he had resources other than the Potter pair of Vaults (the Main Vault refilled his Trust every year back to its principle, though Harry couldn't alter the Main Vault or change anything about it until his legal majority) to call upon.

"Some things," Harry replied, throwing Fred's words back at him with a cheeky smile and that caused the ginger boy to chuckle.

"Do you want to tell me?" Fred asked after a moment to compose himself.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on with Ginny?"

"Eventually."

"Then I'll tell you what's in the packages… eventually." Harry's replied and they both sniggered even as Harry moved to the makeshift wet bar (courtesy of the twins) and poured himself a drink. Given their ages, there was no alcohol there but it was the place to go if any of them fancied a cold butterbeer and it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend.

Then he settled on the sofa opposite Fred and he passed him one of the two butterbeers that he had taken from it. They spent the next hour or so, slowly joined by their friends, talking about nothing as teenagers tended to do.

-HPCOD-

The run-up to the twenty-first of December was an emotionally confusing time for the couple. It wasn't that they felt forced really, as they were both teenagers and did want to sleep with each other, rather it was the situation as a whole.

They were excited to take the next step of course but, they were also nervous as they were both virgins and didn't really want their first time to be so soon or in this way. Instead of the slow romantic buildup that both would have liked (Harry more to put Hermione at ease and out of a sense of chivalry), it was simply a part of a calculated ritual. Yet, because of their feelings, it was also not simply that.

To add even more complications to their lives, thanks to the magic released, it would also have to be out of the Room (to avoid Dumbledore's senses) and in a highly magical place. Places that tended to have monuments placed on top of them, not comfy cottages or hotels and there were a lot of people near them far too often for comfort.

Many places were considered.

The first was obviously Stonehenge, it was one of the most powerful places on the planet but it was also at the symbolic heart of Britain. They dismissed it just as quickly as they thought of it, it was too well travelled by muggles, the Ministry always had a presence there so that the muggles didn't find remnants of the Ancient Enchanters and no magical looters could pillage whatever was left. There was also a group, sponsored by the Ministry trying to understand those enchantments and they had been doing so since the founding of the Ministry.

For at least one of those reasons (and sometimes due to a comparative lack of leylines for what their rituals needed), many others were disregarded. Those places included Goat's Hole Cave, Goldcliff, the Ness of Brodgar and the Avebury Stone Circle. They eventually settled on St. Nectans Glen in Cornwall.

Although it didn't have the fourteen leylines (five major and nine minor) that Stonehenge had it did rival Hogwarts in that it had four major and seven minor ones running through it. One of the reasons that nothing had been built there was that it was simply too small to be of any use and had largely gone unnoticed by wizards, if not so much by muggles.

Privately, not that either had told the other yet, both were more than happy with the picturesque location as, even though it wasn't perfect, it was the best the that could find and more than that it was theirs. It was certainly better, in their minds than the cold open field that was Stonehenge.

There was only one other major problem and it couldn't be avoided. The Room of Requirement would have to be closed for the first time since Harry had started using it. Both of them would be the subjects of the rituals but, Dobby would be needed too. He would have to cover the magical backlash from spreading too far and alerting far too many people that a ritual had happened.

If he wasn't then they would be lit up like a beacon and would have been discovered in minutes, so Dobby's presence was essential. He wouldn't be able to stop them entirely but, hopefully, he could contain them so few, if any, noticed and then he would be responsible to then take them home again.

-HPCOD-

"Have you hidden the bags away?" Ravenclaw asked.

"Yes miss birdy mum," Dobby replied.

"And you two? Are you ready?" She then asked Hermione and Harry.

"You seem more worried than us," Harry stated.

"You are going somewhere I am completely unable to help you and your will and intent will become the largest variable now," Ravenclaw explained "I am worried though. It may be part of my nature to care for every student in general but… you are not just students to me."

"Thank you for saying that," Hermione replied for both of them even as they beamed at the Aspect of Hogwarts, "and yes, we are more than ready."

"Good. Then go." Rowena said, even as she felt herself fade from existence and joyously rejoin the greater mind of knowledge and experience, that called her home even as she naturally surrendered her sense of self.

Only to be stapped back, in what felt like a single moment to her, by a shout.

"Help us!" Hermione screamed, even as her body glowed with the power of the completed rituals.

As her mind fully settled into the more limited perceptions of this form, she saw an anxious-looking Dobby wringing his hands and a distressed, almost hysterical Hermione screaming at her. That being said, Rowena was not offended as she did have reason to be concerned.

"What happened?" She asked, even as she moved to scan the third body that was totally unresponsive on the ground.

"The final ritual," Hermione said brokenly "something happened… I don't know what happened, I just don't know what happened."

Even as her hands glowed with all the power that she could muster and still retain her form, she began to try and diagnose the problem and got her first good look at Harry.

By all appearances, he was ancient. His form was shrunken and his skin was both stretched and somehow covered in wrinkles, his head was covered in small tufts of pure white hair where a full head of black once was and only the memory of smooth skin remained.

There was also a small, twisting and circular line of glowing black runes growing almost organically from his shoulder all the way around and down, ending at just above his left wrist. As her hands came closer to them there was a slight pull on her magic and that, more than anything, was the largest clue as to what was happening to him.

The only other clue was his other hand. His wand had fallen to the floor because starting at his fingertips, that hand was turning to dust even as she had started to move towards him. It was spreading and, she could tell at a glance, that if it wasn't stopped it would continue until nothing was left.

"His magic is unstable. The Ritual is still working on him and draining his core, his life." She spoke in an utterly calm voice and yet her eyes had never seemed more focused than they did now, "He needs to stabilize or he will die."

"How?" Hermione half begged and half asked, even as the glow around Ravenclaw turned almost blinding in its intensity.

"Like this," She replied even as she gently touched his skin.

For the longest time to Hermione, though it was less than a second in reality, nothing seemed to happen at all.

Then Ravenclaw began to scream.

-HPCOD-

From Hermione's perspective, it seemed that even as Ravenclaw screamed, the light around the Aspect was sucked into Harry skin as if he was a sponge. For two full heartbeats following that nothing seemed to happen, Harry didn't move and Rowena still screamed.

Then she stopped but remained frozen. For a long moment, they all were as it seemed the world stood still and they all metaphorically held their breath.

Then it began to move again as Harry began to breathe.

Slowly at first, and then faster the wrinkles on his skin smoothed out, the hair on his body sprouted and took on a more healthy colour and he began to regain a healthy pallor To her eyes he was slowly coming back to her and all she could do was hold his hand and hope.

Most parts of him seemed to be glowing a soft moonlight silver that was rapidly growing to cover his entire body. The only part of him that wasn't glowing, almost stubbornly, were the new runes that were newly branded on his skin. They weren't glowing so much as blazing.

The Silver glow grew and grew. It became so bright that Hermione had to abandon holding Harry's hand and shield her eyes as everything began to be obscured in its light. Before she could think of what to do however the air was broken, once again, by the scream of Ravenclaw.

"Make it stop! Make it stop! Get him off me!" Ravenclaw shouted out.

Hermione dived into the surprising cool light and saw, as if it was simply a thick glass screen that she easily passed through, the problem.

Rowena was turning into white smoke before her very eyes and being drawn into Harry. Her hands, where they touched him, were transparent and slowly fading into nothingness, a nothingness that was slowly spreading as her form began to lose cohesion. It seemed to Hermione that everything that Rowena was, everything that she was made of, was slowly being consumed.

'That's exactly what happening,' she realised 'Harry is eating away at a part of Hogwarts. He can't do that… not and live.'

Then she did something that could have been called brave and it could have been called stupid but, was likely both. She shoulder charged into what remained of Rowena and knocked the two of them clear of Harry. With that, the light show abruptly ended, as if it had never happened.

"Thank you," Ravenclaw said even as she seemed to begin to regain strength, colour and form.

"You're welcome," Hermione replied with a muffled groan and she could already feel the bruises on her shoulder beginning to form as hitting Rowena had been like smashing into a wall. Then she looked at Ravenclaw closely. "Are you okay? You do seem very pale, though I am glad you have all of your form again."

"I am," she replied even though, at present, she looked more like a whitewashed version of herself at the moment. "I will recover, in time. You likely have saved your beloved's life as, at best, he would have died and at worst become something other than human if you hadn't acted."

"Other than human? Wha-" Before Hermione could finish her sentence a grown drew both of their attention away from their conversation and onto Harry, who was still almost completely covered in silver light despite it being much dimmer than she remembered when she had tackled Rowena.

"Quickly, go to him and convince him to stop, he is still drawing from the Room. It should work now that he is more aware and appears stable," Ravenclaw commanded her.

"What do you mean? What happened?"

"That power was never meant to be used on something like me, no human could hope to contain what I could give. Imagine he tried to get a cup of water and turned on a tap but, instead of the stream he should have gotten, he was flooded with enough water to fill a house. Similarly, the state that he was in when he entered was because the ritual had drained too much of his magic and had turned instead to his life force to finish itself."

"And now?" She asked, moving over to Harry.

"He still has too much, but it is not fatal at this time. For now, he is stable and healthy."

"Why can't you just take it back?" Hermione asked even as she leaned down and whispered to Harry, "Give it up Harry, give it up and let it go."

"Because in taking the power he has claimed it. It is now human and as ill-designed for something like me as my power is for him, if in a different way."

"So what happens to the excess…" Hermione was thrown backwards as Harry, with a groan of pure relief, released a stream of magic that hit Hermione. It entered her, as a wave of cooling silver fire, even as they both fell unconscious from the strain of it.

A temporary magical link formed between the two at that moment, which only faded after each of their bodies rippled like still water struck by a large stone. Then the link faded and left behind only the shards of its broken pieces inside of them under the watchful gaze of Ravenclaw.

"That." Rowena's reply was simple blunt and without judgement.

-HPCOD-

Harry was the first of the two to recover and wake. He felt like utter shit and yet, paradoxically, he also felt far better than he ever had in his life.

"What happened?" Harry rasped out as his throat felt like dry burned parchment. He noticed that there was also something funny going on with his vision, "Why is everything glowing?"

"The Ritual of Unmaking almost killed you. To survive you needed a fresh injection of magic to stabilize your core before it drained you completely and you lost your life. Sadly, you instinctively tried to draw that power from me and therefore from Hogwarts and that should have killed you as well. Instead of that happening, you managed to expel the remaining excess and it went into the nearest compatible magical source… Hermione."

"Hermione?" Harry asked, sounding slightly drunk, with everything else forgotten as he searched for her with his eyes until his eyes found her and he moved towards her on unsteady feet. "Is she going to be okay?" He asked, looking at Ravenclaw as he absentmindedly stroked his girlfriend's hair without looking away from the Aspect of Hogwarts.

"She will be fine. You both are just suffering from magical overload, the opposite of magical exhaustion, and she will wake soon. It appears that is what the Hand of Unmaking does, it drains the magic but only compatible forms of magic can be absorbed safely, of which I clearly am not."

"So," Harry said even as his improved intellect made connects far faster than it ever did before, "it's like trying to plug in something with the wrong fuse then? I short-circuited?"

"If I understand your analogy… yes. As to your vision, it appears that you can now see magic. I am unsure if it is because of the Hand of Unmaking, the amount of power that you briefly possessed and its effects on your body or simply an interaction between the rituals that you have undertaken. At the end of the day, it hardly matters why, it is done and cannot be undone. Regardless, it will be some time before she wakes and I suggest that you spend that time entering your mind and try to take control of this new ability as outside of this room Hogwarts would likely blind you."

Harry nodded in weary resignation and entered his mindscape with both practised eased and without another word. What he found there was nothing sort of a chaotic mess.

When he had first reached the stage in Occulmency to create a mindscape he had created a false version of Hogwarts filled with false memories, ideas, sensations and very dangerous traps. He had then hidden his memories in plain sight, by placing them in the stars of the night sky

He further protected his memories with every charm, enchantment and rune that he could think of although, with his increased intellect, he was thinking about adding things like black holes to stop intruders.

That was, of course, until now as when he surveyed his mental home he found everything in smoking ruins.

-HPCOD-

When Hermione awoke she expected to be hurt, not for her head to be in Harry's lap or for her hair to be absently stroked in a soothing way by her boyfriend as he meditated. The simple gesture spoke volumes though and she had never felt more loved, especially after everything that they had done last night.

"How are you feeling dear?" Asked Ravenclaw as Hermione carefully raised her head and extracted herself from Harry.

"Good. Terrible, but good. Is that weird?" She asked.

"No," Ravenclaw replied, "Harry alluded to feeling much the same as you. Then I suggested that he go and rebuild his mindscape. I take it the other rituals went well?"

"Yes," Hermione blushed at those images that her traitorous mind wouldn't stop showing her. The soft but firm skin, the soothing hands, his beautiful eyes and his mouth on her neck. 'Stop thinking about his mouth...mow is not the time...no matter what else his mouth is utterly marvellous though. No, stop it.'

To distract herself (and gather her thoughts back to more… constructive… and neutral grounds) she quickly looked around her.

Her eyes landed first on the amused face of Ravenclaw and then the near ageless stonework of the castle itself until they finally landed on Harry and she couldn't help but gasp at what she saw.

"Harry!" She called urgently, "Wake up."

She watched his eyelids flicker and could almost feel his essence, everything that made him what he was, rise from the very depths of his mind.

"Hermione," he said slowly even as he began to fully wake, "you are beautiful."

Wordlessly Ravenclaw summoned a large tall mirror so each of them could see themselves and each other.

Both of them were as close to the uncanny valley effect as they could get without suffering the negative effects of actually crossing into it. The lines of wear and tear, simply from living if nothing else, were completely gone and almost all minor imperfections that humans normally had were missing but it was also far more than that.

Although they no longer glowed at all their hair and eyes almost seemed to draw you in. it was like the light seemed to always catch their hair just at the right moment as they very nearly shimmered with something. Their eyes were bright, far brighter than they should have been and, far from being unnerving, it somehow made them appear to be more expressive and understanding rather than unnerving.

"What the hell?" Both of them said in unison.

"Until after the Third Task, I'm going to have to make masking rings for the both of us. The height was one thing but this, whatever it is, can't be explained any other way." Hermione said, half in distraction and half in wonderment.

"Getting me jewellery already?" Harry teased her, "Jumping the gun a bit aren't we?"

"Shut it you," she grumbled good-naturedly.

"The rituals did not cause this, or at least not directly." Ravenclaw's explanation was given right before she turned to focus solely on Harry, "Have you got your ability to see magic somewhat under control?"

"Sort of," Harry answered even as Hermione gaped at her boyfriend's new ability, "I've placed a dial in my mind and have it on its lowest setting. I don't seem to be able to turn it off completely though and it'll take time for me to get a proper handle on it. Thankfully, you and Hermione seem only to have light glows, well yours isn't quite that light, around the both of you."

"Good, that is very good. You will find that generally, wizards have a glow that starts in the torso whereas creatures, House Elves and even Goblins will have it running through their entire body, like the three of us… if only at variable power levels."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked.

"Because that's how she sees the world, a reverse of mine. The flesh is an overlay on magic," Harry guessed. "Am I right?"

Ravenclaw nodded her agreement even as she finally spoke.

"True. Still, remember Hermione that Harry absorbed part of my magic."

"That he couldn't retain that and live?" Hermione responded.

"Not as a human." Ravenclaw agreed. "The small amount (comparatively speaking) has made you the best examples of wizarding kind that it can. The full effects have yet to be seen but you remain human do not worry. The rituals you undertook were supposed to increase your magic and bring it closer to the surface to make it easier to access, although nowhere this much."

"And what I can now see?" Harry prodded.

"The excess magic had to go somewhere after expanding and partially refilling your cores."

"So that's what happened with our bodies? The magic had to go somewhere?" This time it was Hermione who prodded her.

"Yes, but if you hadn't absorbed the small amount of excess that way then certainly Harry and most likely you, would either be dead or no longer human simply by a form of magical saturation."

"Is there still a danger of that?" Harry asked, even as Hermione couldn't help but add her own question at the same time that he spoke.

"What do you mean by magical saturation?"

"Magical creatures, plants and animals are usually created by three different and very distinct methods." Ravenclaw began as he spoke in teaching mode once again, "The first, and by far the easiest method is to crossbreed one magical creature with another. The second is by a tailored ritual to create something new whether by a failure or, more often, by design. House Elves, Veela and possibly Dementors were created this way, amongst others. The final way is more natural as plants and animals in highly magical areas become soaked with it, they carry it even as it changes them, it becomes part of them and they become magical. This is what is called saturation and it usually takes decades, if not centuries and the quicker it is done the more likely… failure."

"And by failure you mean death?" Hermione asked.

"I mean a horribly gruesome and painful death, yes," Ravenclaw affirmed.

-HPCOD-

After a few hours of rest, both Harry and Hermione found that their reflexes had increased to near the hypothetical pinnacle of human. Their strength and resilience had also increased though Harry, in both cases, outstripped Hermione most likely because he had more power to absorb as well as more time to do it.

Neither noticed (as it was drowned out by the increased power that was flooding through and settling in them) the remnants of the broken connection that had, oh so briefly, blazed between them as it melded itself amongst everything else that was thrumming inside them.

Perhaps it was because of that difference in power between them that Harry managed to recover more quickly than Hermione. He stood up gently, leaving her warm embrace and being very careful not to disturb her, and gathered up the two bags that had been briefly removed from the Room and returned while they slept by Dobby.

Slinging them over his shoulder he took a deep breath and centred himself for the task ahead. As he began to walk towards the blank wall, a door appeared to satisfy his new need even as he scooped up a pack of enchanted glass as he went.

"It's time then?" Hermione asked sleepily as, it appeared, he wasn't as successful in letting her sleep as he had hoped.

"The timetable that we have waits for nothing, love."

"I'm supposed to be with you when you do this, or did you forget?"

"I didn't, but you need your rest and it can't wait. There will never be a better time than this. The I.C.W are still having their meeting and I wouldn't want to wait for the next one. It's okay, I can do it alone and we never took into account the end result of the rituals being this strong."

"Just remember," she said as she rose from their bed and kissed him softly "that power in one area can only take you so far and that power alone is rarely enough."

He nodded and once again resumed his movement towards the door. He opened it and then, just as it was closing behind him, he caught her parting words. "I love you, Harry."

-HPCOD-

Harry had first apparated and then taken out a broom to the sea until he reached a very nondescript and specific patch of water that was (as the crow flies), roughly one hundred and fifteen miles northeast of Canturbury, fifty miles due north of Dunkirk and one hundred and ten miles north and slightly east of Calais (51°45'44.0"N 2°22'35.0"E).

Hovering in the air, Harry drew out five very specific medium-sized stones and, after cutting his hands very deeply with a muttered word and focused will, threw the bloodied stones in sequence in as close to the cardinal points as he could away from him. Only then did he take the last bloody stone and dropped it straight below his feet where it entered the sea with a quiet splash.

He quickly began muttering a long stream of words under his breath. His entire mind was focused on his task, even as he turned his wand freely in the air and distantly grateful that he was outside of the radius of Ministry sensors.

He frowned even as he did so and stared at his wand accusingly as he felt, for the first time, a resistance from it causing more strain than he had ever felt from his foci than ever before. It felt almost like he was forcing his spells through treacle rather than the air and he had to add a fair amount of power to overcome this unexpected handicap.

It took almost a full ten minutes after he had finished casting but, eventually one by one, each place where a runestone had landed lit up in the golden-green glow that he had come to associate with his magic that was roughly circular.

Harry still waited patiently.

Five more minutes passed and still, he waited, even as the bitterly cold wind of the North Sea slapped his face with its damp chill.

Finally, like it was gently raining earth, from within each glowing orb (and drawn from both the seabed and the sea around it) fresh land was formed. Inside that was not only dirt but, had traces of the minerals that could be found in both of its progenitors.

When the five met each other a fully defined patch of land was formed. It was nothing to shout about however as even the most generous of people looking at it would see something that looked like a muddy square.

It was almost thirty square feet of land and was already becoming partially sunk under the waves that were trying to reclaim it although, at its centre, it was roughly now twenty meters above sea level.

Even as Harry managed to manoeuvre to the ground (he was a very good Seeker after all) both of his hands were deep within both satchels and soaking everything inside with his blood. His wand had been moved for this and was safely tucked behind his ear.

When he landed, thanks to his recent earth-based ritual, his hands were slowly but surely healing themselves until they were whole and unblemished and lacking even a scar.

Gathering his wand back into his hand, he made a slashing motion at the ground around him even as he still struggled with his wand and, soon enough, a deep hole was made in the virgin earth. Then he proceeded to do the same with over fifty shallower holes around it as well as all along the patch of land that he could reach with his magic.

In the deepest hole, Harry dropped a runestone that was so large that it could almost be called a boulder and was so etched with runes that there was no part of its surface that didn't have at least one tiny cluster etched deeply into it.

Then, he began to chant in an approximation of what linguistic scholars would likely say was the long-disused dialect Common Brittonic. Harry had no idea if he was speaking the dead language correctly or even what each individual word meant, he only knew that the golden-green fire springing from his wand gave him the knowledge that it was working.

He was claiming the land as his and his bloodlines (at least until the main line magically died out) and he knew that his next word would be the name of the new property. It would be magically imprinted on every speck of it, would give it form and shape its purpose until the sea and the Earth claimed it back from him again.

"Nysa." He spoke the word with a sense of finality and completion that he had never felt before, even as he felt the drain on his magic like a massive punch to the gut. He also hoped, in the far reaches of his brain, that Hermione would get a kick out of the name as she did enjoy both ancient languages and tales.

In the remaining holes, he dropped the smallest stones that he had. They were designed to draw as many nutrients and minerals that he could get away with without ruining the ecosystem of the area.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, his resentful wand some of the enchanted glass (that had spent all of this time strapped to his back) flew out and formed a rough semicircle attached to three-quarters of the land. It was beginning to rise into the air and would eventually meet at a planned ninety feet (or twenty-eight meters).

The only segment that didn't get any of the glass was the one facing the greatest part of the North Sea and instead, Harry moved over to that end and upturned both of his bags there and at intervals into the sea itself. These were the mid-sized cousins of those that had been placed before and they were smaller, slower-acting stones than the boulder-like one and were designed to encourage slow sustained growth.

By the time that they had finished their work, in a few weeks, the newly named island of Nysa would be almost one hundred and twenty square meters (with a small bump where he was standing) from start to finish.

A couple of the stones that he had placed in the ground would make the island temporarily unplottable, place Notice-Me-Nots and redirection wards onto the now growing island.

"Dobby," Harry called and the little fellow appeared panting and nearly falling over as, after all, moving across water by magical means was quite difficult and very taxing even for the most powerful. "Please tell the goblins that, in a couple of weeks, they can come here and begin to do their work."

Even as the excitable elf moved to obey him and he nodded like a bobblehead gone mad Harry continued to speak. "Oh, that reminds me, tell them that at the end of the third week I will be placing the island in standby mode as it were, so they will need to be done by then."

Before another word could be spoken, Dobby popped away and Harry began his long trek home. The loving arms of his girlfriend awaited and he had a question that he needed to ask Rowena.

'Why is my wand fighting me?'

-HPCOD-

"Your wand is fighting you because your magic has changed and they are delicate instruments. The frequency of your natural power, the relationship between it and your wand, has changed."

"Because of the Horcrux, the rituals or the magic overload?" Harry asked.

"It could be any one of those things individually, a combination of them or something else entirely. The why is less important than the effect it is having on your capabilities."

"So what now?" Hermione asked. She was sitting with the other two as she and Harry were doing what passed for a small break these days. They were alternatively carving, chatting, reading and relaxing with each other.

She had taken the time, under Ravenclaw's direction, to create two rings to hide the majority of the changes that had occurred to their bodies. It worked, for the most part, although their eyes were still more than slightly hypnotic. If one looked closely they might also notice that Hermione's hair was smoother than before and that Harry's voice had lost the roughness of adolescence and become smoother than before.

All in all, it was still far better than the alternative and both of them, understanding the symbolism of what they were wearing, found it to be a comforting (if slightly daunting) weight.

"I can not help you with this. Not only am I incapable of magic magical foci but, I have never had access to a wandmaker's memories. It is a rare art and they do not recruit children, nor do they tend to have a desire to do anything else, it is more of a calling than anything. You need to go to a wandmaker for any true solution."

"Well, France is out for the moment," Harry said, "Sirius is there and he can't have the attention of Dumbledore or his supporters. Merlin knows what he would do with my Godfather as a bargaining chip." Then Harry assumed a deliberately over the top and pompous tone, "I guess there is only one thing for it…"

Even as he said those words, Ravenclaw caused another door to the outside world (as in Hogsmeade) to appear. "To Belgium!" Harry called, with a great battle cry as if he was going headlong into a fight and then, more like a six-year-old than a nearly grown man he charged at and straight through the door.

Both Rowena and Hermione seemed more relaxed and somewhat amused, which of course was the point of him charging at the door like it was a rampaging dragon. Hermione was even giggling, if only briefly, at his antics while Rowena had a small smile on her face.

"Whatever will I do with that boy?" Hermione asked hypothetically.

"Given what I am aware of, in regards to your natures, it starts with kissing and then…" Rowena's dry reply caused Hermione to blush and also grin like a loon even as she realised that Rowena had just attempted a joke.

"I think, that Harry's viewpoint has been corrupting you."

"Is it not you who has the job of corrupting Harry?"

Hermione was gobsmacked for a moment even as they both looked at each other and, within seconds they were both laughing.

-HPCOD-

Thanks to a quick apparition and a Gringotts International Portkey, he was stepping into Magische Bogen within the hour and very near Belgium's version of Diagon Alley closing time.

As such, when he entered Willems Foyers (the areas premier wand shop) he was met with a vaguely disgruntled balding man who, if he were a muggle, would be at least in his fifties.

"Do you speak English?" Harry asked.

"That I do, Mr Potter. I am Flynn Willems, the owner of this humble shop." The man's answer was clear, if still being slightly obscured by a thick accent. "What can I do for you today?"

"I thought that would be obvious, Mr Willems," Harry replied and long past being surprised by people knowing his name. "I require a new wand."

"I'm afraid I only do custom work, my friend," Flynn said. "Made to order, you understand? Unique, of course, but… expensive and it would take hours. I don't think a schoolchild, no matter how famous, could afford my prices."

"Tell me, sir," Harry said, not fazed in the least and having a bright idea, "would you be open to a trade?"

"A trade of what?" The wandmakers voice was tinged with more than a little suspicion, even as Harry withdrew a pouch, no larger than half his fist, from his pocket.

"Could you tell me what this is?" Harry asked, drawing a grey feather that was tinged with black from it.

With the air of someone simply appeasing a troublesome customer, the wandmaker drew his wand and gently took the feather to his counter. Then he muttered a series of spells, frowned, did so again and then finally spat another spell before raising an eyebrow and looking Harry in the eye.

"Wherever did you get that?" He asked, clearly not expecting an answer as he continued to speak without allowing time for an answer. "It's an adolescent alicorn feather… a winged unicorn Mr Potter. It's a very rare find, especially the unicorn/granian cross. I'm not actually aware of a herd that has one and I would pay good money to know where it was."

"I found them legally," Harry responded with an open and honest smile, "and that's all I will tell you. "How many would you want for a custom wand?"

"Five."

"Ready today? Starting on it now?"

"Seven"

"Fine… if I can watch you make it?" Harry pressed his luck while slowly increasing his mage sight.

"Twelve for that…. And I don't want any questions, nor do I need an apprentice. Even if I did, I doubt someone as famous as you would do me that much good. I like a quiet life and you strike me as anything but that." Flynn was also certain that the boy would learn little if anything from simply watching him work.

"Deal," Harry happily complied while pulling out a further eleven feathers from a bag that held at least three times as many.

Both men got to work.

-HPCOD-

"Please can I ask a few questions?" Harry asked after he had been taken through the selection of wand wood and had settled on his cores, even as he found the right level for his mage sight.

"One or two but, no more," he answered gruffly but, not unkindly before he reiterated, "but I don't want or need an apprentice."

That may have been the reason for his surly attitude but, it could also have been that it was the end of the day. More likely than either of them though was the fact that one of the two cores that he had chosen (or been chosen by) was one of the same feathers that he had handed over as payment.

Even though he had quickly replaced it with another one without a word about it.

"Why is the fact that the wing feathers are from an adolescent important? Why did you look at me strangely when a pine wand wood chose me or when there were two cores rather than one?"

"Pine wands," began Fynn "are drawn to wizards who are independent, loner types and often help their owners survive to old age, irrespective of the cost to others." Harry nodded his understanding before the man continued, "Not exactly something I'd expect from The-Boy-Who-Lived and the stories written about you."

"Don't believe everything you read. Go on."

"Two cores are rare because it takes a higher than average magical core to power the wand. It's not a simple matter of doubling the theoretical power that they can channel but more like squaring it against its companions theoretical maximum. A staff, when they were made, used at least eight and the number of wizards that have ever used them can be counted on one hand...with fingers to spare. More to the point though, a duel core is seldom used at anywhere near its full potential but used instead to stabilize an otherwise volatile mix, which yours are not. That means you don't need them for that and that shouldn't be possible at your age… hell at one hundred and twenty it would be rare, yet here you are."

Even as the man spoke his joy in his craft shone through. He spoke without looking towards Harry as his entire attention on the wand before him. He was carefully, even lovingly slimming down the wood blank that would become Harry's new wand while the cores sat, inert for the moment, waiting to be used.

"In my business," the wandmaker began to conclude "there are three greater species amongst all the rest that are desired above and beyond all the rest. The simple reason for this is is that, as they age, the magic in them gets stronger rather than weaker like all of the rest. Those three are the Phoenix, the Basilisk, and the Dragon."

"So my feathers are more valuable because they are younger and therefore more brimming with magic?"

"My feathers now." The wandmaker was more than a little snarky in his reply to Harry's question.

"What about Dementors?"

"Ha. You take a piece of one, survive long enough to bring it here and I'll let you know. Merlin knows who a wand made with that core would choose though."

"What about wand size and the length?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"Generally speaking, the longer the wood the stronger the character of the owner unless size is an issue, thickness is dictated by the versatility of the mind as its...springiness. Premade wands, like that hack Ollivander, come in many shapes and sizes mainly due to that, but custom wands like mine leave room for growth. The spells I use mean that, if your character changes, the length and flexibility can be altered. Ollivanders are not made that way and (though it is rare) they can be outgrown or overloaded, they also won't work as well as mine...ever. The only exception to that is blood, it would bind the user to the wand easier than otherwise and would allow the bending of many rules… but they are illegal by international law. Now I've been patient enough… no more questions!"

With that there was silence and, at the end of it, Harry had learned two things other than the fact that the wandmaker had humoured Harry solely because he thought that Harry could learn nothing of use from him without direct hands-on instruction.

First, he had learned that his, as yet incomplete, animagus form was that of a winged unicorn. The second was what he learned about wand crafting and how, at least in a general sense, magic was applied to wands as he had been there to watch it happen.

This did not, by any means, make him a wand crafter yet (even assuming he ever wanted to be one) but he felt reasonably certain that he could now at least maintain his own without going to someone else if there was a problem. He also saw the trace being added after it was created, he got a feel for it, a taste for the magic, and he knew he could find it and remove it with time and was back at Hogwarts.

"Mr Potter," Flynn Willems said at last, "your wand. Dragon heartstring for base power coupled with alicorn for depth of power, stability and range of magical affinity. As a part of that animal is a unicorn I don't doubt that it will be a very stable and loyal wand as well. Combined with the core is a very supple pine body with a length of 11 ⅓ inches long."

Even as the wandmaker was saying this, Harry was being pushed out the door and Harry (with things left to do) didn't resist even as the simple box containing it was shoved into his hands.

-HPCOD-

'I've faced down the shade of Voldemort twice, a bloody basilisk and my parent's betrayer. How is it that I'm more nervous here than at any other time in my life?' Harry thought nervously.

Maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas Eve, maybe it was the pressure of having a girlfriend for the first time ever and worrying about what present to get her or maybe it was skipping Hogwarts for the day so they could go for an early Christmas Eve dinner with her family.

As Harry stared into the judging eyes of Hermione's Dad he knew what the problem was and desperately tried not to think about all the times that he had teased or titillated Hermione or worse… seen her naked.

Which of course brought these images to the front of his mind and, judging from the fact that Hermione's father's face turned completely murderous but he wasn't successful at hiding it in the slightest.

'Oh, fuck.'

"Daniel," called Hermione's mother, even as she hugged her daughter who had shot past her father like a missile and straight into her mother's arms. "Let the poor boy in. I'm sure you'll get to interrogate the boy some other time."

"Come in, Harry," said Daniel and, to him, his name sounded more like a threat of a slow and painful death rather than simply identifying who he was and an invitation to enter.

The Granger home was a modest one when compared to most houses for the area of Oxford that it was in. It was a medium-sized two-story house with a very small front garden that was casually maintained with an attached garage. It was far different from the Dursley's household in many respects but, none more than the feelings of warmth and welcome (Dan notwithstanding) that seemed to reach out and draw the young man in.

"Welcome Harry, I'm Emma and I'm so very pleased to meet you." The voice of Hermione's mother was kind even as he couldn't help but appreciate that the beauty of the Granger women didn't skip generations.

"Thank you for having me," he replied quietly and ever so politely.

The only other person in the house aside from his beautiful girlfriend, her dazzling mother, her glowering father and himself was Hermione's Grandmother Edith (on her mother's side).

As they all moved to sit, Harry was struck by a couple of thoughts.

Firstly, and least important, was how well the women of the family seemed to age. Hermione was more than beautiful to him of course but, as he looked at Emma it was almost as if he could see the fully-fledged woman and maybe even the mother that she would become.

In Edith, he saw a strength that survived through the transience that was youth and the wit, intelligence and charm that was present in both her daughter and granddaughter. However, unlike with them, hers had been temperate and honed over the years to something more than brilliant and it gave him a sense of anticipation to see what Hermione would become in the years ahead.

It turned out that this year was the first years in many that they had invited anyone out of the three of them (Mother, Father and Daughter) for any sort of family function. Harry of course was the newcomer and not family while, thanks to the Statute of Secrecy and the fact that she didn't live with them, Edith had drifted apart from her family since they found out about the Magical World.

Harry and Hermione tried to catch the others up on what had been going on with them but, by necessity, they had to heavily edit their stories. Despite that Hermione and her family were enjoying the sense of belonging and family that hadn't been present in her home (at least not for her grandmother) for years. Harry, for his part, was simply enjoying being part of a good family dynamic for the first time, even if only peripherally.

When they had fully relaxed and gotten to know each other a little even Dan began to enjoy himself and both Harry and Hermione began to believe that any difficulties were over. Or at least they did until Edith spoke again after a long talk with her daughter.

"So, you're a wizard then? I take it my Granddaughter is a witch?" From the look in her eyes at the utter shock that caused everyone else to stop and stare at her openmouthed, Harry knew she was taking pleasure in their stunned faces.

"G-grandma?" Hermione stuttered.

"Oh relax dear child," she responded with a chuckle, "my uncle was one you know. Well, technically he was my great, great uncle and he died when I was fairly young...but still."

Both Harry and Hermione relaxed slightly and, after everyone absorbed that information, their stories became much more detailed vivid as everyone now understood that Grandma Edith was in the know and not likely to fall foul of a Ministry sanctioned memory wipe.

Eventually, it began to draw very late and both Harry and Hermione had to go, although before they left they did leave presents for the entire family under the Christmas Tree and had to agree to visit all three of them soon, not that it was a hardship.

They just didn't realise how soon that would actually be.

-HPCOD-

When his son had sent him that letter, that one about that mudblood being called the Brightest Witch of the Century and a bloody genius, its contents had only enhanced his own feelings on the subject.

'How dare they even think that filth, let alone print it,' he thought, 'they need a wake-up call. Everyone needs to remember who should be in charge and the damage they have done to this one great world.'

He was wroth over the fact that some, like-minded individuals though they were, were actually wary of doing anything against the mudblood just because she was the girlfriend of Harry bloody Potter. Thankfully not all were afraid of rumours, stories and half-truths.

Thaddius Nott happily forgot or ignored the fact that the Magical House of Malfoy was very nearly ruined by Harry Potter. They had lost much of their influence when they had lost their wealth and in the end, they might lose more than ninety per cent of their assets and gold. He also ignored the fact that, blood or not, if his son had brought such shame upon his family and it was another pure-blood that had been aggrieved he would have swiftly moved to remedy the situation.

The stain on his families honour would have been simple enough and he believed that it would be easy enough to have another child anyway. He didn't think like that though as he would never, even theoretically, raise Hermione to that level.

It did give him a more than eager ally in the form of a revenge orientated and outright bloodthirsty Lucius Malfoy. The man may have diminished to a degree that would have been unfathomable just a short while ago but, he was still useful for his singlemindedness and the useful contacts he had, such as Severus Snape.

"Are you ready Nott?" Malfoy half snarled as if he were in command and they were in the parlour of Malfoy Manor rather than a rain-soaked muggle field in the arse end of nowhere. Nott's eyes narrowed, as he briefly entertained the myriad of ways that he could teach Malfoy a lesson in humility when this was done.

Although both men were dressed in what they called their work robes of their Death Eater heyday neither wore the mask for one very simple reason.

They wanted the muggles to see the faces of their betters. They wanted them to feel the fear that came from the audacity of raising one of their own from the gutter in which they belonged.

The stupid muggles should have known that it would end this way, that they would have to lose to the natural order. It was inconceivable to the men that they could ever lose to the muggle filth that they were about to meet, it was true folly to think any different and with a sharp nod from Nott, they apparated away to their destination.

-HPCOD-

Years of Death Eater raids had made them cautious as many a new recruit had ended up on the wrong end of an Auror's wand and yet it had also made them arrogant as few others ever stood against them, let alone muggles.

They did appear a little way away from the Granger home to be safe. They had no idea if there were any wards on the home nor did they know the muggle world well enough to understand whether they would be landing in a highly-populated area and there was no reason to risk apparating into a crowd of enemies.

However, unknown to the two men, that was where things began to go wrong for the two men. They did (quite sensibly) use magic to turn off the street lamps that illuminated the area but, they didn't stop there. They turned their wands to the power supply of the Granger house when they got there, not understanding that it would be very noticeable to the muggles in the house that something was wrong.

They were overconfident, as they had found now wards or what they thought of as alarm systems. They viewed them as idiotic savages that were simply waiting for the slaughter by those that could understand nothing and deserved nothing, except either slavery or the contempt of pure-bloods as they were killed.

When the front door fell to both their (in their minds at least) justifiable anger and their simultaneous explosive curses, they didn't find the Grangers quite as unaware as they had expected.

Instead of finding a cowering or confused muggle family, they instead found a family preparing to leave from different places in the house. Unknown to their enemies, these muggles had all reacted to the power going out and were preparing to check the fuse box. The reason that they all moved was that, with the stories that they had recently heard about Hermione's life today, they had agreed that if anything unusual happened they would be on guard.

As soon as the door had exploded they had come to exactly the right conclusion and, on the surface at least, Emma was doing what they wanted by screaming out in panic. Neither understood the truth of what she was doing however, it was for two very different reasons.

Malfoy finally had an outlet for his hatred. He focused on the eldest woman in the house, who was struggling to raise her slow and elderly body from the comfortable chair that she had fallen asleep in. She never got the chance to do so as the cutting curse, the vessel of his hatred, slashed open her throat though not cleanly.

Even as the blonde-haired monster took pleasure in her laboured last breaths (which was the very reason he hadn't used the killing curse) Nott moved towards who he considered the most dangerous, the father of the mudblood. He had followed in behind Malfoy and had spread out a little to the left and had a perfect line on the man.

This wasn't America nor was Oxford (this part of it anyway) a great area for hunting or clay pigeon shooting. There were no guns in the house so, even if the two Death Eaters had realised what they were Daniel Granger neither bought one nor used one.

As a good Englishman, he did have a cricket bat though.

It turned out that this solid piece of wood, empowered as it was by his still impressive muscle and his mounting rage, was able to strike with impressive force as he saw his mother-in-law fall.

As Nott had raised his wand out of reflex and to deflect a curse that would never come his wand and hands took the blow instead. His wand snapped with the first hit, as did several of his fingers.

This was a problem for the man, he was a proud wizard and his knowledge of dark magic was deeply engrained in him. He had never bothered to try and learn the muggle styles of combat though and, in a physical confrontation, he was worse than useless.

Even knowing it was extremely risky, looking at the enraged muggle, he considered apparating without a wand. Death Eaters did normally carry at least one backup wand and several portkeys but, expecting a muggle home, they hadn't bothered to take them.

They could have also used the Dark Mark (at least back in the day) but, with their master apparently dead that method was obviously out. If he wasn't, by some dark miracle, then it would be worse for the pair as Voldemort was not known to forgive interruptions to his planes, even before they had both decried and effectively betrayed him.

None of those things (other than the Dark Mark) could be summoned and used on the fly.

It seemed that he was saved though, as the three muggles disappeared before his eyes before anything else could happen, one after the other. First, it was the younger female, then the male and finally the wounded older woman.

It felt to Nott that it took a moment for his brain to catch up with everything that had just happened. It, therefore, took him a long moment to register what he had heard the younger of the two screaming at the top of her voice.

It wasn't a formless screech, it wasn't the panic (or at least not until the older one was hurt) of prey that they were so used to, nor was it obscenities that she was screaming. It was one word and he realised that it didn't bode well for him as Lucius flew across the room.

"Dobby!" He would soon realise what trouble such a little word could bring.