Chapter 20: The Nighttime Fly-by
"Alright everyone get in? Leave your items. We will have them dropped off. We don't want things bouncing around." Hermione warned.
As the individuals climbed unto the ramp, they found themselves shocked as to how the inside of the gunship was constructed. It almost seemed like a beehive? The organic looking spars seemed unearthly and Daphne observed the mixture of the illusion based instrumentation and the standard aircraft meters. She had no idea what any of those things did, and the thick skeletal, braided cable on the chair looked intimidating. She wondered if this was related to their spinal interfaces. Tracey was looking at the reactor and was clueless as to what was the purpose of the device. The power crystals were behind a shielded bay and they glowed a menacing red. Harry then stepped in and seated the Greengrass and Davis family right behind each other. Most of them were fascinated by the seats, as they levitated mid-air and were cushioned. Hermione then secured Neville and Augusta.
"What does this do?" Tracey asked as she pointed to the reactor.
"That is a FiendFyre reactor. We inject some hydrogen gas and start a carefully controlled reaction. As we cycle the gas, the reaction breaks down the gas and generates ions and magical power. We siphon off the magical power and then we exhaust the charged ions through the engines, in combination with kerosene. The result is that we can go very fast. That is the…abridged version of it?" Harry laughed.
"I don't understand any of that, but okay. But I thought FiendFyre was very dangerous?" Daphne asked.
"It is if you don't understand that the spell breaks down matter into something simpler, and it liberates magical energy that can self-sustain itself. You got to use the energy very sparingly when you cast the spell. The concentration of it – how much of it is in the area also makes it harmful or not, in terms of self-propagation. Large volumes of high velocity air do not cause the reaction to get out of control." Hermione explained.
"Oh?" Daphne replied as she considered their casual knowledge to be an indication of heavy research. So, dangerous spells were just a walk in the park for them.
"Any other questions?" Hermione asked as she seated Neville and Augusta.
"Why does the inside of here look so…different?" Tracey asked.
"We look to nature for inspiration. May creatures and animals have truly efficient designs, and we decided to recapture that ingenuity when we designed our gunship. The ship was created by summoning a Protego based mould and pouring the metal to get the necessary shape."
"The shield spell as a…mould?" Tracey asked.
"Correct. We use the Protego in all sorts of flexible ways. Sometimes containers, shields or partitions that trap air?" Hermione answered.
"That is really…creative?" Tracey commented.
"Thank you Tracey! It all depends on if you can intentionally shape the spell. These structures are organic and they use a minimal amount of material for the maximum possible strength. Normal mundane processes could not manufacture something like this within an hour. The metal is a mix of gold, titanium and other special things. It is the strongest known metal that we can make. Gringotts England produces this for us, on contract." Hermione replied.
"All right, we are going to get our armour as we are flying a bit far?" Harry explained.
Both of them left, and the large gate could be heard as it opened. Soon enough, Hermione and Harry had returned and were now wearing their muscle weave, along with what looked like a very light version of their armour. Both of them had their helmets in their hands and Hermione sat in the pilot seat. Hermione then began the start-up sequence.
"Alright everyone, this is the boring part, but it is necessary. When we fly it is a matter of life and death. We don't play around with safety, not after we limped home the last time. This is Thunderbolt-I beginning flight pre-check. Confirmed on the uplink?"
"Loud and clear, over," Invictus replied.
"Running the fuel pump diagnostics…green. Running the power systems check…Crystal power reserves and Lithium-ion voltages in the green…" Hermione prompted.
"Beginning the Reactor check…Hydrogen is live. Green on the containment. Starting at two per cent and holding. Now running at thirty seven cycles per second." Harry replied. The red Fiendfyre began to slowly accelerate as it hummed. Suddenly there was a small puff of red fire from the engines. Harry continued, "Running the turbine diagnostics…green. Shields nominal, Cloak is nominal. Good on magical flow for all emitters."
"Starting the main turbines, opening up the viewports." Hermione continued. Many hidden shutters retracted and there was clear visibility, all over the pilot pod. The engines began to whirl and Hermione placed her helmet on her head. Suddenly a small end of the skeletal looking cable from the chair snapped unto the back of her suit, and as she shook her shoulders, the aircraft seemed to wiggle slightly. Daphne realised that she flew the aircraft by thought, which alone was confirmation of her mental capability.
"Good pilot neural handshake. Sticks are activated to shadow the spinal interface. Checking the jump drive and running diagnostics. Starting the hovering bypass, opening vents."
Now the ship was slowly lifting off from the ground as it held its position. Hermione continued, "Landing gear is retracted."
Harry then seemed satisfied with his reactor tweaks and he put his helmet on and sat down in a seat that was raised above Hermione's seat. Then his spinal interface snapped into his back. As he shook his head, the conjured illusion above Harry's head displayed a wireframe model of this ship, as the weapons bays extended from the gunship. Harry continued:
"Good gunner neural handshake. Initiating weapons check. Checking the SMG gimbals through 1 to 6. Confirmed green. Checking Assault gimbals 1 through 6."
Everyone could see small arms that had extended out of the aircraft. Harry tested the full range of each gun quickly. Then he retracted them to a position where they were all facing forward. Now the gunship was hovering and moving forward very slowly.
"Green on short and medium defence capability. Checking the main cannon." Harry explained. A large thud was felt. The people in the StarFury saw as the main Pulse cannon lowered as Harry exercised the entire range of motion on the armament.
"Good on the main cannon. Retracting…weapons are priming correctly and are hot." replied Harry.
"Diagnostic for the main jump drive is green," Hermione replied before she manoeuvred the gunship out of the workshop. She was now flying along the Peverell lawn. Then she added for emphasis and everyone became worried:
"Passengers, we do hope you will enjoy your flight on Thunderbolt-I…..OR NOT!"
Daphne was now dead scared. She suspected this was Hermione's final prank for the night. Her suspicions were confirmed after Hermione began to push the Thunderbolt, and now everyone was screaming and the adults were plastered in their seats.
"400, 600, 800, 1200, 1400, 1600…1800….1900…."
Now the passengers began to understand what G-forces felt like, and yet Hermione was only climbing gently as she began to level out.
"Upcycling the reactor, running at twenty per cent and holding. " Harry announced, as the engines began to spit out the heavy blue plasma. Now the gunship had levelled out and there was a constant two g's of stress on everybody's body. Hermione then began to slow down, and the force eased off the passengers.
"That…that is terrifying!" Ophelia commented.
"Awwwwww you guys are so cute. That was only a momentary 3g's of acceleration. We made up to ten for short periods and six for extended flights. So, triple what you are screaming about. That is normally lethal for ordinary people." Hermione giggled.
"I don't think a broom will ever scare me, ever again," Daphne replied.
"See this was good for you! This is our christmas prank, as our true gift to the lot of you. Hermione, ready for the jump?" Harry asked.
"Coordinates entered. Priming the jump drive. Jumping two hundred kilometres forward to Portree. Jump in 3…2…1…" Hermione responded.
The world went black momentarily before they materialised mid-air.
"Successful jump. We will be at Longbottom Manor in exactly…..eight minutes." Harry commented as he looked at the illusion based navi-com, which was something they had implemented only earlier that morning.
Soon enough, Hermione was setting down the gunship in the Longbottom front yard. At the same time, Harry pinged Grace and she immediately transported Alice and Frank to the manor. Both of them leaned forward, as they examined the state of their former house. Hermione continued to stay in the pilot's seat, as Harry ensured that Alice and Frank were comfortable, as he escorted both of them into Neville's house. He also rechecked all of the new security wards and features, along with the solar power system. After Harry exited, he found that Neville was still crying.
"I don't know if I will ever be able to thank you enough," Neville whispered.
"You don't have to. This is our gift to you. I hope you will enjoy your Christmas. Look, as I said earlier I was the wrench monkey. Mum and Hermione did most of the revolutionary work. We also have to thank Grace for sobbing regularly." Harry replied, with a smile.
Neville hugged Harry, before he said, "I will send my gift tomorrow, alright?"
"You do that. I am going to drop the rest of these miscreants home." Harry replied. As the Longbottoms entered the manor, Harry then ascended the ramp and sat down in the gunner seat.
"Alright folks, next stop is Caernarfon for the Davis family. Mione take us out?" Harry requested.
With a combination of two successive jumps and some cruising for about forty minutes, Hermione put down the gunship on the Davis front lawn. The Manor was cosy enough and the plants were quite visible. Amy enjoyed a lot of gardening. The house was five minutes away from the more urban areas, and it did not take long to figure out how Tracey had come to adore fast food. There were too many fish and chip outlets as the town was not far from the sea. Harry and Hermione could even smell the salt in the air.
"Harry?" Tracey asked.
"Yes?" he replied.
"I am sending my gift to you tomorrow. It is more of a joke, but you will read it and tell me if you think my proposition is worthwhile. Even if it isn't, I am sure you will get a laugh!"
"Oh, I can't wait. You had fun?" Harry asked.
"Best day of my life. I want a big cannon for Yuletide next year!"
"Easy now, no explosives for you yet. Off you go. Uncle Reginald and Aunty Amy, I hope you are satisfied with the prank. I have also been quite honest with you about the rather tough situation that we are facing."
"I am aware. We will get it handled. I am anxious to try my bike out. Good night Harry!" Reginald replied as Amy and Tracey waved.
"But of course. Take the missus for a ride. Goodnight. Have an auspicious Yuletide and a Happy Christmas." Harry replied, as he have the entire group hugs.
When Harry returned, the Greengrass family found it unusual that Harry did not sit in the gunner seat. Rather he activated a control and the other extra seats collapsed. Now the four Greengrass seats had formed a small semicircle and Harry was now facing them as Hermione dropped the speed to a comfortable 800 kph, which would get them home in a comfortable half hour.
"We are going to take our time and get you home. I decided we could chitchat, as I don't think we are going to be attacked."
"That would be appreciated. How are you, Harry? And I mean really?" Ophelia asked.
"Happy about some things, and unhappy about others. I am pleased about tonight. It was nice. Had you told cupboard me that I would be hosting large dinners merely three years ago, I would not have believed you."
"There was a lot of variety. I appreciated the Cock-a-Leekie soup!" Cyrus answered.
"I think I went a bit overboard, because of some of my personal experiences. At least we will have enough food for the next two weeks. I was rather surprised that you guys live in Scotland. You don't have much of the accent?" Harry asked.
"The magical community speaks an unusual mixture of Gaelic and Doric. Our market trips still use the local language. Ophie likes to haggle. Oh, you will hear the accent there. But yes our English is not as coloured, because the magical community is fragmented. Purebloods learn most of their English at Charm school?" Cyrus replied.
"That makes sense. So whatever standard that school sets becomes a commonality. That place has to be somewhere in Sussex, as I can hear the accent. All of the purebloods sound like cookies from a cookie-cutter. As for your market visits, a definite marker for maturity is when you get excited about a good sale on the vegetables. I used to hunt for grocery deals in Little Whinging, just so I could get something for myself." Harry laughed.
"The Charm School is in London, actually. I have observed that you have been forced to become self-sufficient from a young age?" Cyrus asked.
"Yes. And those habits have not died. I still put order to most of the house. I can give Aunty Ophie a run for her money with those domestic charms. I can make my bed wandlessly. That is my real achievement for this year!" Harry laughed.
"This month has been tiring for you. You were quite busy and I see why now. This thing is fantastic, although I would not like to be in it when you are flying at full speed." Ophelia smiled.
"As I said…...I am unhappy about the last mission we undertook. The women and the children, their decency and dignity were taken from them. So yes, we killed the whole lot of them. Every single man. However, even after they were safe, I still felt haunted by what I saw. And they are international, no locals were present. I can't even pin a single ethnic group, and that was very concerning…?"
"Is there any way we can help?" asked Cyrus.
"Maybe. How do you feel about doing some intelligence work, when you aren't busy with the other portfolios?" Harry asked.
"I think I will enjoy that very much, Harry. I am a Slytherin, I like to plot." Cyrus laughed. Harry then pulled out a small piece of metal, and a small green emerald was afloat at the top of the rectangular cupon. He touched the item to his head and a small set of whisps entered the gem. Then the memories faded away and the group ascertained the function of the unusual looking item.
"Is that an artefact for memory storage?" asked Daphne.
"Yes. Goblins prefer to use gems for storing memories. The gem structure allows for far more details to be stored. You will even smell, see and experience our thoughts from our perspective. However, you young lady will not be seeing anything and the device is passworded." Harry paused before he continued:
"Usual password Uncle Cyrus. As for what we want you to do, just listen in and see if you can work backwards. We want to find out where the tagged items have gone. Everything will be sent to your slate. Ask Invictus for whatever you need."
"I will keep you updated. After hearing about that escapade if I can help, I certainly will." Cyrus replied.
The conversation continued and Harry talked about all sorts of idle things. Daphne paid attention carefully, as she hoped any information that she could obtain would assist her in understanding him better. Late next year they would be finishing their year seven exams for mundane studies. Then he would be applying to "Imperial College" which was a world renowned mastery level study for something called "Aerospace Engineering." Hermione was undertaking something called "Biochemistry".
"Well thank you for bringing Daphne. Now we don't have to tiptoe around the other two. Ah, here we are. I have to admit there are a lot of green fields. Greengrass much?" Harry laughed.
"Perhaps?" Cyrus smiled, as the gunship landed on the Greengrass lawn.
"Happy you saw the neighbourhood. Come all of you, let us get inside. Harry and Hermione thank you for an entertaining night. If you ever want to talk, please buzz me?" Ophelia gently reminded Harry, as she touched his face and held his hand.
"I will…..try?" Harry said uneasily, as he laughed.
"That is all I ask," Ophelia replied, very gently.
"Ah wait Daphne, we do have another little joke. We appreciated that Astoria was flexing her diadem this evening. And we can see that you loved it so decided to give you one that I was designing for myself. Merry Christmas from the Rune-Priestess!" Hermione giggled, as she opened a compartment and wandlessly flicked the diadem on Daphne's head. Hermione then conjured a mirror from her bracelet and Daphne had a look at herself. It was now snowing at the top of her head, and she realised that the joke was a play on the moniker "Ice-Princess."
"Thank you! I appreciate this very much!" Daphne replied, with her smile genuinely plastered from one end to another of her cheeks.
As the Greengrass family emptied from the gunship, suddenly Cyrus' jet bike uncloaked and it parked itself up under a small shed. Then a small protective field formed around it - the vehicle would always stay dry, regardless of the weather. Afterwards, Harry and Hermione exited the gunship and were given a little tour of the refurbished greenhouse and other parts of Greengrass Manor, that had been updated with modern conveniences. As Hermione returned to the pilot's seat, Harry said his goodbyes to the Greengrass family.
"I wish you an auspicious Yuletide. Many blessings as we renew the old oaths," Harry replied before Cyrus and Ophelia hugged the boy. Harry then entered the gunship and as the hatch closed silently. The roar of the engines could be heard as Hermione throttled away. A
s Daphne looked on, she realised that her entire world had changed in just a couple of hours.
It was approaching midnight. The Greengrass family usually hosted a small family dinner on Yuletide. Many of the extended family members were also neutrals, and all of them were older folks. Besides Tracey, her other cousins were at least thirty five years old. Some of them were even in their late forties and early fifties. Daphne and Astoria were generally treated like favourite nieces, by these people. Ophelia and her husband were making the necessary preparations, and Daphne was not sleepy. She had been listening to the conversation in the "gunship", and found herself pondering about the "cupboard". What exactly did that mean? As the family began to prepare for bedtime, Astoria who had become rather boisterous and less reserved, idly commented:
"I can tell you like Harry. When I was healed by him, Hermione and Aunty Priya, I saw things about him. From inside his head. With the mind link."
Daphne was now silent.
"You cannot begin to imagine the pain he had suffered. Look, Harry is a one thousand layer onion. Do you like him? You better start peeling him back, one layer at a time."
"You are different now, aren't you?" Daphne asked.
"Yes. That alleyway changed me. The attack changed Ginny too. She was there. To feel that kind of fear, to wonder if you might die? Or that they might rape you? To feel the terror and your chest is tight? I love you and my family to the end of the earth, but you better believe that this lion will roar louder than the rest."
Daphne nodded as she realised that the experience had instilled bravery into her.
"Can you tell me about the cupboard?" Daphne asked hopefully.
"No. Ask mum. If mum says it is alright, she will tell you. I experienced something, and it is…private. I had to cry long tears. It was…..painful."
Daphne who was insistent to find out more, found herself wandering into the kitchen. Ophelia was busy and unlike in previous years, the room was full of appliances. Hoppity was looking around in the refrigerator. Ophelia released that her daughter had questions so she sat on a stool, and looked at her daughter as she also took a seat.
"Daughter, you should be sleeping?"
"I should. I have a question mother?"
"What is it?"
"What did Harry mean by the cupboard?"
"I will tell you this once, and I hope you won't ask again. Not that I am angry you want to know. It breaks my heart to speak these words…because I feel like I should have gotten him out of that situation, myself. Harry before he was rescued by Priya, was forced to endure large amounts of corporal punishment. He worked as hard as ten house-elves, and was malnourished. He was neglected, and he lived in a cupboard. He was hardly ever clean, he could barely read and he was scared of everything. He wore hand-me-down clothes and was essentially a slave."
Daphne was now silent.
"Yes, daughter. I saw the memories myself. Petunia hated Lilly that much. He was forced to look after an entire house. He cooked for himself, he visited the muggle markets. He painted, fixed things and maintained an entire lawn full of flowers when you were begging for ice cream. He was beaten regularly to the point where he screamed in pain. He sobbed in his cupboard. He would ask what he had done wrong. His cousin bullied him, and he was one of the weakest students at school. He had many fractured bones and wore glasses because of his terrible eyesight. I cried for hours after looking at how Petunia and Vernon Dursley, made him suffer.
And when Priya began to heal him, she had to fix him over many months. He was rebuilt. If those charms didn't exist, Harry could have been disfigured for life. Priya had to use magic that had not been conceived of, to fix every single piece of him. And the treatment was painful and took many months. He would lie down on a bed, and clench his teeth for hours as the bones were corrected. A lot of the new treatments that were used for Frank and Alice were merely enhancements that Hermione had added to Priya's original innovations. She had given Astoria a quick lookover tonight and I found out the details."
"I don't know what to say," Daphne replied sadly, as she considered that life could be cruel. There was now a small tear in her eye.
"You don't have to say anything to me. You don't think I didn't notice how enamoured of him you are? You will have to be a good genuine friend. Traditionally what would have happened, was that either I or your father would have approached him, and asked if you were to his liking. Then we would try to negotiate an appropriate dowry to make the deal attractive. Now how is that supposed to work with him? What could we possibly give him?"
"Nothing. He gave us things that we could never repay him for. He gave the entire House Greengrass freedom from the blood curse. Gave me my sister. And he choked Draco twice, that one is really funny!"
Ophelia laughed a little bit. Harry was a brawler. She gently replied:
"Exactly my child. Your father and I were arranged to each other, but I had liked him very much, long before our families spoke about anything. I could remember thanking Lady Magic for being so fortunate. You will have to earn Harry's affection the hard way if you are sure that you like him. You must also consider that pain still haunts him. He is intensely personal and it is not in his nature to talk. As you heard, he will try. Which honestly means that he will accept his pain and soldier on, and he won't talk about it.
Harry might be your age, but he is an adult. He fights injustice because he knows it intimately. The boy who lived is the wrong moniker. No, the boy died a long time ago. He is a man, and he holds dominion over all that he touches. And yet, his mothers both by blood and by adoption, live on in him. We are fortunate that he was guided into becoming a decent human being?"
"I understand. Just imagine, pureblood me, figuring out how to be more muggle. But it would help, won't it? To understand his world? I mean we never had problems with…mundanes…..but we never bothered to find out anything more."
"It will. There was never any need to know more. And yet the solutions to Astoria's cure came from both worlds. He asked your father if he would show him the old ways. And yes, he is a deeply religious person. It is from his faith that his strength flows. You will find that he is open-minded, and he likes to participate in everything. Much wisdom for a boy your age, although he might not look like that. I see you like your diadem?"
"I don't want to take it off. I love it!"
"We will see what the fates hold. Astoria usually visits the manor quite regularly. If you would like to go, you can go along with your sister. You will learn much from Harry and Hermione."
"Thank you. I just want to…understand him. Night Mother."
"Oh look, Yuletide has arrived. Happy Yuletide. Go and sleep, my dearest daughter…."
Daphne had now arrived at her room, and she decided to buzz Ronald.
"Ron, are you around? You home already?" she asked via the communicator.
There was a lot of noise in the background, and it seemed that spells were being cast.
"Yes. Happy Yuletide. We got dropped off about an hour ago. We were last. The flight to the Tonks residence was...look, that thing is bloody terrifying. Hermione is a damned maniac."
"Seasons greetings to you too. Harry is equally insane. I could never believe that magic could be used to make an object like that. Why am I hearing noise? Late night preparations at your place?"
"The others are helping mum. I am in the duelling room. Bill and I are having a go at each other. Can't sleep?"
"No. Not after what I saw tonight. Much to think about."
"Don't blame you. When I found out, my jaw disconnected from my skull temporarily. And while Harry and Mione are serious about the war, they did get a good prank on me at my expense. They planned everything, and they consider it funny that you had to watch on, in wonder."
"What are some of the things that Harry likes? Do you know?"
"Neville told me about some of his favourite movies and videogames. Tomorrow I will give you a crash course on how to use the computer. I am no expert but I can manage. You are seeing Star Wars."
It was now Christmas morning. For most, they were spending time with their families. Harry had apparated to his church and found Father Nathaniel casually sweeping the front yard.
"Ah. Hello Harry. Happy Christmas. I wondered if I had scared you off!"
"Not one bit. I had some personal business to take care of, and I was….indisposed for the last ten weeks."
"Oh. And what brings you here this morning?"
"I suppose I am here to confess my sins. But I don't know if you are doing that today. I just felt I should be here. I guess….many things happened."
"Come on then. That, I can do for you."
After a short walk, Harry was now sitting behind the screen. Father Nathaniel had seen the haunted look in his eye, and it reminded him of how demented Lilly had looked when she was on the run, at the height of the Wizarding War. He decided to clarify the general situation:
"Before we start Harry, as I said in our last conversation, I knew your mother very well. She attended this church as a little girl. Every Sunday like clockwork. Not too different from yourself."
"I know. I did get a hold of her bible. I also wear her crucifix. Besides that, and some assorted albums, it is all that I have of her."
"I know. And when I say that, I mean I know about how she and James left us. As she warmed up to me, over the years, she told me about her life as a magical."
"You know?"
"Of course, Harry. When one takes up religious duty, you hear much. Somethings the things you hear, you wish you never knew. Those who seem clandestine in the public, sometimes are not the best behaved. And that is putting it lightly. And yet I am required to respect people's privacy. Your secrets no matter how terrible they are, are between us and the good Lord, particularly if they involve magicals or magical events. I am aware of her majesty's charter for their affairs to remain separate from ours."
"Well, that makes things easier. Let us call the man who killed my parents…T.D.L. "
"T.D.L….The Dark Lord I suppose? Yes, that can work. Didn't Lord Voldemort die? So I heard from another friend of mine, who has magicals that attend his church."
"Not really. He did a piece of magic that is so foul that he possessed another person's body. You can even call it a demonic possession if you want if you think about his winning personality. Not that he is a real demon, but rather that he loves using magic to do dark things. And he….."
Harry for the next half hour explained the gist of his problem. He explained how he had killed in the name of protecting innocents. He spoke of the kidnapping of his adoptive mother, and even of the mission where he had saved bartered women in South America. Father Nathaniel nodded appreciatively as he said:
"You find yourself at a crossroads, I suppose. You have done terrible things but in the name and safety of others. You defended the weak and gave a voice to those who would be oppressed. And yet the toll seems heavy on your soul."
"More or less."
"And you have never had a confession, no?"
"First time today?"
"Very well Harry. Make the sign of the cross and repeat after me:
"Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession. These are my sins. Then, speak truly from the bottom of your heart. Express your pain. There is no shame here."
Harry began:
"Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession. These are my sins."
There was a small pause, as Harry seemed to collect himself.
"I am responsible for the death of three hundred men. I killed the first seventy to protect my mother and aunt from being raped. I killed the second thirty to protect the people in Diagon Alley from torture, terror, and rape. I killed the third set of two hundred in an operation to eliminate drug dealers, human trafficking, rapists and black market weapon dealers. I loved the battle. A part of me enjoyed exercising cruelty. They could not touch me. I cracked skulls, broke bones and splattered men. I enjoyed punishing the men with powered armour that amplified my strength. I enjoyed shattering the ground and tossing them around like little unimportant toys. I enjoyed conjuring lightning to cripple them with the pain.
It was about revenge too. I considered myself a punisher. I would punish those in magical society who did wrong. I would play judge, jury and executioner because I know they would slip away in the corruption. I was a crusader! I was fighting for the rights of the oppressed, and only after I killed the lot of them and I saw the blood in my hand, then I had regrets afterwards. I am just as cruel as my enemies. Even more so. I am truly sorry for all my sins, for my heart is heavy on this day."
Father Nathaniel considered that Harry had to have beyond average equipment and skill to have a body count that high. But when he heard about what the boy had been dealing with? And he knew that the boy was not even twelve yet. But he seemed to look almost fifteen. He assumed that his magic had helped him to mature quickly. He listened to an abridged explanation of what had occurred, and realised that the boy was fighting an entire war with a small group of individuals like himself. For the rest of the morning, Father Nathaniel explained to Harry that he wasn't evil – rather he had done that which was righteous and he was being tested. He explained that in another time, he had been close to members of the Royal Airforce and the Royal Navy, and that soldiers always came to him with the same questions.
"Now, your penance will be to do something for the community. Find some way to reach out to those who are in need, and assist them. Take part in the building of something righteous. Now you will say the act of Contrition. You will repeat after me.
O my God, I am sorry for having offended Thee, I love thee with all my heart and all my mind…"
The prayer continued and when Harry was finished Father Nathaniel then recited the Prayer of Absolution:
May our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, through the grace…."
Harry smiled a bit, as he heard the word Grace. It was indeed the right name for his trusty bird. When Harry was finished, he decided to take a walk around the neighbourhood, only because he wanted to sit on the swing of his favourite park. It had always been a place he would relax, before getting the groceries. The place was covered in snow, and he honestly felt like he had left Privet Drive almost a lifetime ago.
Draco Malfoy was sitting in the Malfoy living room. He was having a rather tense conversation with his father. Lucius Malfoy's voice took on a dangerous tone, and the boy understood that he was addressing the head of House Malfoy and not his father. Invictus was listening in, as a drone was safely hidden away behind a ledge. After he had locked down the location of Malfoy Manor, they had remotely dropped off a surveillance drone via the B.F.D (Big Fucking Drone). Unlike the previous transmitter, the drone could follow people.
"Sit Draco. There is much that we need to…..discuss."
"Yes Father."
"Many unfavourable things have happened to us as of lately. The Mudblood lover, Lord Black had combed through his financial records. Lord Orion Black had lent a lot of the upstanding houses loans, to acquire resources for the Dark Lord. What do you think occurred next?"
"He used the debt as political leverage? I must admit father, I know of this because Theo told me so. I don't think I would have been any the wiser."
"That is acceptable Draco. Our ability to cleanse Wizarding England of filth depends on like minded people working towards our cultural preservation. I am pleased that you have been associating with acceptable families. Unfortunately, we were one of the many houses that owed House Black, a rather large sum of galleons."
"I know this from Theo too. We bailed out many other houses. Father, where did the money come from?"
"Unfortunately Draco, we were forced to dig into our antiques. We had to sell many of our gems and our heritage paintings. As you can see, the manor has lost much of its charm."
"I had wondered. Father, what are we going to do about the Mudbloods?"
"We will prepare for the coming of the Dark Lord. I do have an item that he left in my possession. When the time is right, it will be put to use."
"As it should be father. The Dark Lord will reward us for serving him faithfully. Will we recover the art and the items that we sold?"
"Indeed, he will reward us. As for the items, no. We will have to repurchase and commission many of those things when we win the war. We will systematically repossess what is owed to us!"
"I am sorry father to hear this. We will reap divine vengeance, according with the old ways."
"The sale was gladly handled by the vile sub-human goblins. They were happy to acquire the items, and the rumour is that they were melted for materials. This is just one example of how supporting the Mudbloods only cuts away at our ability to enjoy the things that the uncultured swines could never appreciate. As you can imagine, all of the smaller houses are struggling and many of them are selling their darker artefacts. They are attempting to fend off a possible hostile house acquisition, through their publicly listed business and investments."
"Father, why don't the noble houses build an alliance? And then they can pool the money to buy over House Black?"
"His businesses continue to be private. They are not public. And I would like to believe that we still would not have enough money. It is rumoured that he has sold every antique and converted it into galleons. We as an alliance could not obtain that amount of wealth even for a century."
"So the smaller houses cannot do anything father?"
"We can hardly expect any support from them. We will eventually find a solution. A permanent one. Tell me Draco, what have you observed about your fellow students?"
"Vincent and Gregory are still suffering from the death of their fathers. They have sworn revenge, and I will support them in this endeavour."
"Very good. Their feelings are to be expected. Who else is of note?"
"Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis have not made up their minds about supporting the Dark Lord. Nobody has been able to convince them to join our rightful cause."
"Tell me more. Have they decided to support the Mudbloods?"
"They are not supporting the Mudbloods either. They continue to score the highest number of points for House Slytherin and honestly, if it wasn't for them, we would have been at the bottom of the House Cup rankings."
"This is interesting. So, they work towards the goals of House Slytherin. What do you think Draco?"
"They will support the Dark Lord but only when he returns. Until then, they will be friends with everyone, and they will betray their 'new friends' when the time is right. It has been rumoured that both of them will occasionally talk to Neville Longbottom sometimes."
"We will see. I have been hearing rumours about the boy. Does the boy observe the traditions? Is he talented?"
"He observes tradition with the pureblooded students, but then he is muggle with the mudbloods. That is disgusting. Remember father, they were responsible for saving the mudbloods from the broom accident. The Headmaster loves their pathetic heroics. Talented father? No, he is not! Nor are his two friends, Luna Lovegood and Ronald Weasley. He is getting pity points for his parents."
"I see. I must commend you on the broom sabotage. I asked, and you executed it beautifully. I heard the story of the 'daring rescue'. What I am confused about is why Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis would participate in such a reckless thing?"
"I think Daphne participated in the rescue because she wanted to antagonize me. Tracey followed, because that is all she ever does!"
"How so Draco?"
"Pansy suggested that idea father. In the Triumvirate meetings, the Greengrass family has always offered solid, actionable information. They will eventually fall into the Dark Lord's service. However, Daphne is probably aware that Astoria was interested in me, and she probably suspected I was involved in sabotaging the broom. So, she involved herself with the blood traitors just to get me uncomfortable."
"She is politically astute then? How did she find out?" Lucius asked.
"I am not sure. She is very perceptive. Or perhaps the Greengrass families have spies among the other neutrals. I am not sure. I saw Astoria when I departed the Express, and she was not pleased to see me. Father, she has poisoned her sister against me."
"She will change her mind once again. Not to worry. I will remind Cyrus Greengrass of his place. Tell me more about the events that occurred after the 'brave and daring' rescue…."
"The rumour is that the hooligan and the hag were there and that they saved the Mudbloods. However, there is no way they can fly that fast father. It is impossible. There were no brooms. It is more likely that the oaf, the half-giant man has some kind of secret pet and it attacked me."
"I will ask for a commission of enquiry to investigate the case. We have been listening to the rumours. It appears that the hooligan was not responsible for designing the broom. The Guild designed the broom, and because the inventor is from Norway, he named the broom 'Stormbolt' as a tribute to Odin All-Father. There is an accessory being offered by Viper Vanities that is compatible with the broom. It allows you to 'tune' the broom to its desired characteristics. We have purchased one for you, as a gift."
"Thank you, father! That is a relief. I feel better about my broom. I hated the fact that we were buying a mudblood manufactured broom. Thank Hecate that is not the case, anymore."
"Your concerns are valid. I think it is a good sign that the purebloods still make fantastic items. We purchased some items recently, and we were pleased with their offerings. I heard rumours of a troll attack. Some students are saying the criminals made an appearance?"
Draco was very nervous but he hid his feelings.
"That is not true father. Since their open murder of Lord Crabbe and Lord Goyle, the mudbloods have been rallying around them. The 'Storm-Lord' and the 'Storm-Priestess' are the cause for everything. I can't wait until the Guild kills the whole lot of them."
"They are powerful Wizards Draco. They are better left to deal with their kind. I think the Dark Lord will be very interested in utilising their services. I have written to them yesterday. I do hope they will reply soon. Anything else of importance?"
"Yes, father. Neville Longbottom does not operate alone. His friends are Luna Lovegood and Ronald Weasley. They are Dumbledore's pets, and they make the highest marks in everything. Weasley continues to wear hand-me-down robes and is poor! They barely know any magic, and Dumbledore loves them because they wear muggle shoes, and they work in muggle places over the holidays. Father, it is so unbecoming!"
"Not to worry Draco. Do you think the Dark Lord cares about how many outstandings a magical earns in their examinations? They will be punished, mark my words. You may amuse yourself however, you see fit for the rest of the day."
"Thank you, father." The silver-haired boy replied, as he once again expressed the truth conveniently. Now Lucius was totally misinformed about what had occurred at Hogwarts, and Draco would suffer the real consequences much later on as he continued to play Gobstones, play the fool and stay in denial.
Minerva McGonagall was rather surprised when she was alerted to a rather large box that had been placed at the entrance of the Great Hall. After all, the box had been clearly labelled:
"From: The Storm-Lord, The Storm-Priestess
To: Minne Mouse, Lil Fil, Shouty Sprouty, Sluggy and Goatmaster Fumbleduck
Happy Christmas/Yuletide to the Hogwarts Squad."
That alone had caused an entire commotion, as the Headmaster had levitated the cardboard box directly into an old classroom before he assembled the other teachers, and locked the door. He then cast wards for privacy and the teachers began to take apart the boxes rather carefully.
"Albus what is the meaning of this?" asked Minerva.
"I do not know. I do know the Storm-Lord is not interested in talking to me directly. Perhaps these gifts will elucidate us further?" Albus suggested.
Minerva opened her box and all the other individuals had their wands ready, in case of an issue or suprise. Albus Dumbledore who was good at detecting magic, found the magical signature to be even more perplexing. It seemed like pure fire had been distilled and made into a power source. There was no indication of a person being involved, and this annoyed the old man. As Minerva opened the smallest parcel, she was met by a mouse toy. As she touched the mouse, it yelled "This Quidditch Season is mine!", in a voice that was a facsimile of her own. Even the inflexions were accurate. She touched the toy again.
"Albus! What are you doing?"
She touched the toy again.
"Albus! Percival! Wulfric! Brian! Dumbledore!"
The entire group of teachers began to laugh, as the voice was uncanny. Even Albus smiled a little bit.
"Perhaps our mystery wizards are sometimes pranksters. Minerva, I suppose you don't know the name of the toy?" Flitwick asked.
"No, I do not?" she replied.
"The character is called Minne Mouse. A muggle cartoon character. I think he gave you the toy on the basis that your animagus form is a cat. The name also is a word-play on Minerva. Minerva has been shortened to Minnie, and that is a common name that many have called you by." Flitwick replied.
"Albus, did you find anything suspicious?" Minerva asked.
"No foreign magic. Just a standard rune array. What else did you receive?" Albus asked.
As Minerva dug around she found that she had been sent some textbooks, and she read the card that came attached with her gift:
Happy Christmas to Minnie Mouse – the real principal of Hogwarts. Or at least the woman who deals with the issues and takes care of Fumble's paperwork while he plots to manipulate people. Now we don't think that he is a bad guy. He is trying to do good. We understand. But secrets and slack policies can kill innocents. Perhaps Mugdump Supreme can uncover our secrets? He thinks only he is worthy of carrying them. Good ole Grindy probably dint like that much…..
Do you want to know how we are so talented? We like private, self-paced education. Public education is for those who don't have the option or resources, magical or otherwise. Do not think that this is a personal insult Professor McGonagall. I the Storm Lord, personally like you very much. My views are merely a commentary that the magical education system copied the British muggle system, and flaws in the muggle system are inherently present.
You have a spine at least. Wizarding England needs a bloody backbone. People often forget that Godric Gryffindor created a sword to lop tyrants in half, and it was not a ceremonial piece of war gear. We do hope you enjoy our robes.
S.L and S.P
"Well, the young man is very informed about what occurs at our castle. I have been doing your paperwork a long time Albus, perhaps I should have asked for a raise!" Minerva wondered.
"That can be discussed. They do not like me much. Now it is clear why they are working with Lord Back. Can we take a look at the books and the robes?" Albus suggested.
Minerva opened the last package and found herself looking at the most beautiful robes she had ever seen. They were patterned after their preferred design, and the cut of the cloth and the choices of colours were Gryffindor. There were even beautiful displays of the transfiguration alphabet, that were stamped all over the piece, and they were animated. The cloth was tough but soft and comfortable.
"Well, he certainly has an impeccable sense of style. Minerva, I could almost mistake you for Morgana in those! Who is Grindy?" Slughorn asked.
"That is a story I will tell you another time," Albus replied, as he considered that the unknown wizards were digging up a lot of information he would prefer to stay hidden. Perhaps, Lord Peverell was looking for the Deathstick?
The wand twitched in his pocket.
"I consider his comments about Godric Gryffindor somewhat illuminating. It is a fearsome sword, and it has probably drawn a lot of blood. That is something we have never really investigated. Does he know about the founders?" Flitwick asked. Minerva McGonagall's face took on an uncomfortable sense of recognition, as suddenly the gallant Godric Gryffindor who was an esteemed founder, became a killer. Minerva at this moment, also understood the argument – The Storm Lord was arguing that he and his associates would do what needed to be done, with absolutely no hesitation.
"They somehow manage modern and magical at the same time. I would like to see what I received?" Pomona replied as she began to unbox her gift. Pomona was met with a small note that said:
We heard you talking about our robes at Gringotts. We hear a lot of things. We decided to hook you up, as the muggles or mundanes say. We do hope you enjoy our robes.
S.L and S.P
Pomona then unfolded the robes and found herself looking at a facsimile of Minerva's robes. The robes had been sized for her stature, and on them were outlines of many of the important plants that were present in Herbology. The colours on the robe consisted of yellow lines against the black cloth and the badger had been inscribed on the hood. It was very fashionable, and it made Herbology seem like a rockstar job.
"Well, the robes are very nice I suppose. Let me check for any magic?" Albus commented. After a couple of swishes and flicks of his wand, Albus confirmed that the robe was clean.
"Well Fillius, I am curious to see what you have received?"
The diminutive charms professor found himself looking at a small leather pouch after he took off the gift paper. After opening the pouch, Fillius found himself looking at a small stack of books book. He took them out one by one, and began to read…:
"A treatise on Linguistics, and its relevance to runes, verbal, nonverbal and wandless magic. Written by T.S.P. A best practice guide to methodologies and problem-solving strategies for engineering artefacts. Written by T.S.L"
Fillius paused and then looked at the small note that was attached to it:
Sincerest Yuletide greetings Professor Flitwick!
We have decided to share some of our non-important research, if only because we think you are open-minded. We are also hoping to introduce you to new ideas that Wizards could not comprehend because of their closed-off, stagnant society. We hope that your curiosity will fuel your innovations. Read carefully, it is a lot. After all, we consider ourselves to be most associated with your house. Yes, we can predict Professor McGonagall's disappointment. Perhaps people are more than their dominant trait. The human mind is multifaceted.
Regards – T.S.L and T.S.P
Fillius also observed a smaller box, that was also present. He found a hot sauce collection that encompassed at least thirty different brands. The bottles made their way around the assembled teachers. Albus Dumbledore checked the bottles for poison and found nothing. The bottles were sealed, in any case.
"Headmaster? Anything suspicious?" Flitwick asked.
"No Professor Flitwick. The condiments are clean. Perhaps the Storm-Bringers have a high tolerance for spice? Your assignment is to read those books, and then after you are finished, I will have a look at them. Then perhaps we can discuss our differences in interpretation. Well Horace, let us see what you have received?" Albus asked.
Horace Slughorn was looking at a rather large box. As he opened the box, he saw four hundred different bottles, which were speciality Potioneering ingredients that he had never seen. Also attached was a small formula sheet, explaining how to cook the ingredients to get the majority of the active ingredient.
"Horace? I can't find anything either. I suppose you have been given Potioneering ingredients."
"I haven't seen many of these, Albus. They are from all over the world. If this is the selection that the Priestess has, it is because she must be well travelled. I will be quite excited to try some of these. Some of them are muggle compounds too and she has attached the necessary information. Wait there is a note, let me read it for you. So it goes:
Hey Sluggy,
I heard they are still trying to figure out my Medi-Spray and the Pain-Dampening potions. The reason why they will never figure it out is that I don't see potions as only magical entities. They are also rather complex cases of organic chemistry. I have often used many 'muggle compounds' to do things that you could only dream to do with potion ingredients.
Could you learn enough mundane chemistry to augment your Potioneering ability? Maybe. After all, the new I.C.W Potioneering equipment was also designed by myself and my brother. All the ranting and raving about the innovations in the Potioneering world are things we merely reverse engineered from mundane science. Standard lab equipment.
Moral of the story: Magical England is stupid. At least, we think so.
Otherwise, an auspicious Yuletide to you.
Regards – T.S.P
Minerva considered the comments, and suddenly an old discussion between herself and Lilly Potter surfaced. Her argument was simple – magic was a great gift, but Pureblooded culture was stagnating the practice. When she considered that the pair of magicals were modern and talented, she realised that Lilly had been correct, all those years ago. And now, the Storm-Bringers had openly called the magical world…backward. This made her wonder how many advancements had been made by the pair? As she considered this, Albus prepared himself to open his packages.
"Well, I suppose I am the last. I do believe my gifts are likely to be insulting. Let us see." Albus replied. He unwrapped the parcel and found himself looking at a small object that looked like a half goat and half duck. As soon as he took up the object, it repeated:
"I am Goatmaster Callous FumbleDuck, Mainstream Mugdump and Supreme Warcock! Wheeeeeeeee…"
The object began to wobble as if it was it was unsure on its feet before the goat stroked its beard. The other three teachers burst out into loud bouts of laughter, and Professor McGonagall was torn about if to complain about the rude comments or to laugh at the creativity of the pair.
"Headmaster, I am sorry. These comments are so rude but creative. Apparently, our mystery wizard and witch are comedians." Horace snorted, as the group tried to hold back the laughter. Even Albus was smiling somewhat.
"Oh dear. They clearly dislike me. I wonder why. I can see there is another card, attached. Let me read it for you.."
Albus narrated a few couplets of poetry, in utter confusion:
"Please enjoy some supa-dank poetry courtesy Lord Peverell, the playwright!
There was a man called Dumbledore,
Who after manipulation got bored.
He battled a Dark Lord,
And he didn't use a sword,
And now good people are dead...
Children are replaceable,
As long as they are breakable,
Such a wonderful homecoming.
For your many shortcomings,
and now Harry Potter is dead...
There was a man named Moldypants,
Who gathered a set of sycophants,
Death he tried to avoid,
Necromancy he did employ,
To cut his soul into pieces...
For us, you are certainly looking,
Many things you are overlooking,
We are right under your nose,
When you decide to doze,
Trust but verify, is a good maxim...
..
Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal – T.S.L and T.S.P"
Now the group was quiet – and Horace Slughorn was sweating bullets. He immediately realised that there was one student who had ever asked about Horcruxes during his time at Hogwarts. And if the contents of the poem were true….
He, the boy had become the Dark Lord? But how?
He was an exemplary student? He had won awards for services to the school? Horace upon reflecting on the boy's behaviour, he had always been thirsty for power. The information that he had given that one evening, had caused the death of so many in the Wizarding World. He had even killed Lilly Potter, his favourite Potioneering student. Now his face was pale white. Albus was looking at Horace Slughorn's face and realised that he knew something, that he did not wish to share.
"Albus? Are they giving us clues to assist us?" asked Minerva.
"I think so. I don't think he practices Dark magic. He can produce a powerful Patronus. But even the fact that he knows still concerns me. They study old magic."
"How does one split your soul? Necromancy? This is truly the blackest of the magical arts indeed." Flitwick replied.
"It is – but we have been provided with a clue. And this gift, while packaged with many insults will allow me to finetune my investigation. Now, that which is an elusive secret has been made openly known and I have to thank them for sharing this information with me. Although why they would do so, is perplexing."
"Perhaps it is a vendetta. He wants the Dark Lord Dead. Once again I am voicing my reservations about the project that we have undertaken, and the troll attack. I don't think it is wise that we try to be bait, Albus." Minerva complained.
"If I don't bait him, I cannot see things getting any better. I have to establish if he is truly alive. I suppose this has made our Christmas interesting. Come and let us have lunch. We will see what happens, as events unfold."
"Well Hermione, that was entertaining. When Harry gets home I will provide him with the audio log. I am still combing through all those conversations from the Hogwarts train. Most of it is just drabble. But I am running an excel sheet of who likes who in Hogwarts." Invictus replied as he provided research material to Hermione at Granger Manor.
"Gramps, that is evil!" Hermione laughed.
"Exactly. But you never know. Maybe we can play matchmaker, heh."
"You are Harry's ancestor. Too cantankerous. I will be coming over later. Take care, Gramps."
