The Potters and Grangers flew back to Heathrow on Wednesday afternoon, August 31. Emmett and Danica returned to their home in Crawley while Harry and Hermione chose to stay at a nearby hotel. Even though they would be returning to Hogwarts the next day, they did not want to take the chance of tripping any kind of monitoring alarm that might be in place around the Grangers' home. Neither of them knew if Dumbledore had placed any such charms or not, but neither put it past the old man either.
Hermione's parents agreed with their decision to choose a hotel only after the Grangers left, especially after Hermione explained about the art of legilimancy. What they didn't know could not be used to harm the teens, something both adults were in favour of.
The two elves brought their student trunks to the hotel room, filled with their clothing and supplies for the upcoming year. The next morning, the Potters awoke early, enjoyed an excellent breakfast at the hotel dining room, and checked out, their trunks shrunken in their pockets. They elected to wear their casual outfits as they would be more comfortable to travel in.
From the hotel they went to the Heathrow Underground terminal, and from there took the subway to King's Cross Station, an hour-long train ride. They arrived at the station shortly before 10.00 and made their way to Platform 9 ¾, boarding the Hogwarts Express before most people arrived. They opted to take the last compartment in the last car, hoping that that might minimise any unwelcome intrusions.
As the compartment was at a comfortable temperature, Harry took their jackets and loosely balled them up before leaning back on them against the exterior wall. Swinging one leg up against the back of the bench, he invited his wife to take a seat in front of him. Doing so, she smiled in contentment as his arms encircled her waist, while she reclined against his chest. Both of them were quite comfortable, and so they drifted off into a nap while they waited for the train to start.
They were both distantly aware when the train lurched forward and began moving out of the station, but neither opened their eyes. They knew there would be some inevitable confrontations today and were determined to enjoy the proverbial calm before the storm for as long as they could.
Sure enough, about a quarter-hour up the railway towards Scotland, their compartment door rattled and slid back. There was a momentary silence for a few seconds before the eruption. "What the bloody hell!" a familiar and unwelcome voice bellowed.
Harry cracked open an unconcerned eye. "Hey, Ron. You mind keeping it down? She's taking a nap."
"I can see that!" the redhead yelled. "Why the hell are you two sitting like that?"
Harry sighed in frustration. Typical Ronald fucking Weasley. He even acknowledged that he saw Hermione sleeping and proceeded to yell just as loudly, because whatever he was in a strop about was infinitely more important than such pedestrian concerns as basic human decency. "Ron," he said with an edge of steel to his voice, "she's. Taking. A nap. Shut the fuck up or get out."
The look of incredulity on his face was priceless. His ears were red, a sure sign of an impending meltdown, and his cheeks were starting to become flushed, but amazingly enough he held his tongue and entered the compartment, sliding the door shut behind him. Scowling at the two, he flopped down on the other bench and crossed his arms in a huff. "Well?" he demanded. At least his voice was quieter.
"Well what?"
"What do you mean, well what?" he snapped. "Why are the two of you sitting like that? And where the hell were you this summer? You were supposed to come to the Burrow, you know. I think you owe me an explanation!"
Harry just looked at him evenly, not saying a word. His parents had sure named him prophetically when they chose Bilius as his middle name. There was no denying the fact that Ron was full of bile, lashing out angrily at anything and everything that didn't sit well in his world – not unlike the Dursleys, come to think of it. Likewise, his overall behaviour was certainly enough to induce nausea – especially when he sat down to eat.
He waited until the silence was almost uncomfortable before offering his reply. Ron was just starting to open his mouth in another rant when Harry derailed him with a single word. "Why?"
The ginger's ample mouth opened and closed several times as a look of increasing confusion grew on his face. "Huh?"
"Why, Ron?" he said. "Why do you think I owe you a goddamn thing? I haven't received so much as a single fucking word from you or your family all summer long, and the first thing you do when you see me is to start yelling at me and demanding answers. Hermione, on the other hand, never once forgot me when I was incarcerated at the Dursleys. She found ways to keep in contact with me and was the sole reason the first half of my summer was bearable."
Ron obviously didn't know how to respond to any of Harry's comments. He sat on the opposite bench, gaping like a goldfish, as he tried to process Harry's words and find an appropriate response. His reddening face indicated that his mental efforts were failing dramatically.
"Oh, and we're sitting like this because we want to. Last time I checked this was still a free country, and to the best of my knowledge there is no law saying that we can't. We've been together for half the summer, so why shouldn't we?" Harry didn't say anything about being married yet because he was curious as to how Ron would respond, even to just a little of the relevant information. Besides, his Slytherin side admitted, dealing out the little nuggets of information like this was fun, especially with the knowledge that there was literally nothing the redhead could do about it.
"Together together?" Ron said, jumping to his feet.
"Yes, Ronald, together together," Hermione said, stretching languidly as she opened her eyes, rubbing her head on Harry's shoulder. "What time is it, love?"
Harry checked his watch. "Almost 11.30," he said. He noted with amusement the incredulous way Ron's mouth fell open as he heard Hermione's endearment.
"How could you do this!" their former (though not quite yet aware of that fact) friend screamed. His complexion was rapidly taking on the hue of an over-ripe plum, and Harry wondered if they'd be fortunate enough to witness him blowing out a blood vessel in his brain.
"What business is it of yours whether Harry and I decide to date each other or not?" Hermione asked, her voice cool.
"Because Harry's supposed to be with Ginny and you're supposed to be with me!" he yelled. His fists were clenched at his sides and flecks of spittle flew from his lips.
The other two slowly separated, exchanging a significant glance with each other. Ron was in full rant mode and likely was not aware of what he was saying, otherwise they doubted he would have acknowledged such a thing.
"According to whom?" Hermione inquired. "Because no one has said a thing to either Harry or me about it, far less asked our opinions. Or were you going to try forcing our submission? Because frankly I find that idea to be pretty fucking disgusting and nothing that a true friend would even consider."
"Shut up, Herms," Ron growled. "Everyone knows Harry and Ginny are made for each other. Potter men always marry redheads. Harry looks just like his dad, Ginny looks just like his mum, they're obviously made for each other."
"Hold it," Harry interrupted, turning an incredulous eye to Ron. "Are you suggesting that I am supposed to marry your sister – that I am supposed to want to shag your sister – because she supposedly looks like my mum? That is so far beyond fucked up – that's fucking gross, man. I can't believe you even said such a thing to me." He shook his head in disgust. "Rest assured, ickle Gin-Gin is the absolute last girl in this school I'd consider dating, for that exact reason."
"And what's that shit about Potter men always marrying redheads?" Hermione demanded. "I can name half a dozen times in the last hundred years or so where they did not, and that's just the primary line alone!" She glowered at the youngest male Weasley on the other bench, who was gaping at them in astonishment. "And that doesn't even begin to address the issue of treating us like property, Ronald. I'm supposed to be with you? We literally have nothing in common with each other except for a shared friendship with Harry. We are not interested in the same things. We do not value the same things. You've given me no indication whatsoever that you even like me as a friend – by any reasonable assessment one could easily make a case that you even hate me. Because of that, I can also make a definitive statement that I do not like you at all. You, too, are the last person I'd ever consider dating."
"How dare you!" he spat. "Both of you! After all we've done for the two of you, this is how you repay us?"
"I wasn't aware that your family was expecting recompense," Harry said. "If I'd known that your generosity was a sham, I would have declined acceptance. Knowing now that it is, I'll not be visiting the Burrow ever again."
"Nor I," Hermione chimed in.
Ron opened his mouth to begin another tirade, but Harry snapped his fingers, forcing the ginger's mouth to snap shut as his jaw was bound with chains of magical energy.
"Save it, Ron," Harry snapped. "I don't feel like listening to your mouth anymore. None of us are going to change our minds on this. Hermione and I aren't because we're right, and you aren't because you're a fucking moron. Just shut the fuck up, get out of our goddamn compartment, leave us the hell alone, and contemplate on the fact that you don't fucking own us." He had risen to his feet during this and gotten directly into Ron's face, who was nonplussed at Harry's unexpected height. The intensity in Harry's eyes could have burned through steel plating; as it was, Ron retreated until his back impacted against the compartment door.
"Don't bother us until you grow the fuck up, Ronald," Hermione ordered as she waved her hand and opened the compartment door.
Seeing a terrifying-looking Harry Potter begin advancing on him once more caused Ron to turn around and leave as quickly as he could. He just barely kept from pissing himself.
Harry slammed the door shut and turned back to face his wife, who was wearing an amused smirk. "Should we assume that he got the message?"
"Hell no," she scoffed. "He wouldn't recognise an intelligent course of action if it came up and kicked him right in the bollocks. Fortunately, we're immune to potions, compulsions, and the like. Don't worry, I've got something special planned for our dear friend Ronald." She gave her husband a sinister grin. "All we have to do is wait for him to fuck up and try to potion us again."
"Dare I ask?"
"It's a surprise, but trust me, it's perfect."
"Fair enough," he said. "What about Stalker Girl?"
"Haven't really thought about her yet," his wife replied. "I'm sure we can figure out something appropriate, though."
Now that they both were awake, Harry took his trunk out of his pocket, unshrunk it, removed a couple of novels, and reshrunk it before joining Hermione on the bench. She was rereading Tolkien's Silmarillion for the third time, while he was reading The Fires of Heaven, the fifth and most recent installation of Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Hermione had introduced the series to him while they were in France, and he was eagerly looking forward to the next book, scheduled to be released next month.
They'd been reading for a little over half an hour when their compartment door slid open with a bang, revealing a familiar blond youth with a familiar arrogant sneer on his face. "Well, well, well," Draco Malfoy said, his voice dripping with condescension, "if it isn't Potty and the mud- urk!"
Harry was rising to his feet before the door was completely open. In the time it took for Draco to open his mouth and begin his typical bigoted spiel, Harry closed the gap with his nemesis, curling the tips of his fingers into a half-fist much like the Shaolin Leopard Paw technique. Before Malfoy quite knew what was going on, Harry moved his hand like a striking cobra, jabbing his extended knuckles into the blond ponce's throat.
Agony exploded throughout Draco's neck, focused in his throat. His breath rushed out as he fell weeping to his knees, his hands gently cradling his destroyed larynx. Panic began to set in when he tried to inhale. His airway was too crushed for his lungs to function properly – the force required to pull adequate air into his lungs made his throat feel like it was being stabbed repeatedly with thousands of jagged blades.
"Honestly, Harry," Hermione sighed, "was that really necessary?"
Harry shrugged, the very picture of indifference. "It's just Malfoy," he said. "It's not like it's anyone important."
Draco would have been outraged at Potter's insolence had he not been fighting so hard to breathe. His vision was even starting to grey out at the edges.
"True," Hermione conceded, "but it still may be more trouble than it's worth, at least for now."
"No trouble at all," Harry disagreed. "All we have to do is dump him off the back of the train as we go over a bridge. Even if hitting the tracks doesn't kill him instantly, he surely wouldn't survive falling from the trestle, especially if we wait for the Glenfinnan Viaduct."
Draco's wheezing, laboured breath ceased for a moment as a sudden chill went down his spine. Potter was not joking. He realised that the emerald-eyed "Boy-Who-Lived" truly did not care whether he lived or died.
"Tempting," the brunette witch mused, tapping her teeth contemplatively. Draco realised with a start that her attitude was just as cold and deadly as Potter's. Incongruously, he also noticed that her over-large front teeth had apparently been shrunken over the summer. His vision at that point began swimming as the grey edges of his sight grew thicker.
"No," she said at length, her voice reluctant, "we really can't let him die. Not right now, anyway." With that she cast a basic healing spell at Malfoy, and air flooded into his lungs again. It still bloody well hurt, though – it was basic healing, which meant that pain relief was not part of it. Knowing Granger, though, he'd be surprised if she didn't know more advanced healing spells with pain relief, which meant that she used the basic one on purpose.
"Fine," Harry growled as he stared intently at Draco. "I'm not putting up with the little pissant's bullshit this year, though. He needs to learn to keep his fucking mouth closed or he's going to find his tongue ripped out of his goddamn skull and nailed to the Great Hall door as a warning to all the other morons."
Neither of the others made a move to help him up as he shakily rose to his feet. "When my…" He broke off in embarrassment at what reflexively almost came out of his mouth.
Both Gryffindors wore smiles that were positively feral. "Yes, Draco?" Harry taunted. "Were you about to invoke the name of your father, perchance? Oh, that's right – he's dead! And good fucking riddance, if you ask me. Couldn't have happened to a more deserving bloke, unless it's that fucking half-blood snake you inbred fucktards worship."
"Anyway," Hermione broke in, "why don't you gather your little sidekicks there…" (here she brandished her wand and renervated Crabbe and Goyle from where she had surreptitiously stunned them earlier) "…and fuck off. Don't bother us again or I'll help Harry dump your sorry arses off the train."
To hell with dignity. Draco left as fast as he could, followed by his two goons who still appeared confused about the entire incident. His heart thudded painfully in his chest and a tiny rivulet of sweat dripped down his face as he realised just how close to death he'd come. There was a level of ruthlessness to both Potter and Granger that he'd never once imagined seeing in either of them. He admitted in the privacy of his mind that both of them had terrified him.
He resolved then to be more careful about antagonising either one in the future, and his heartbeat slowed as he calmed after making that decision. Maybe he'd go look for the Weasel instead. Winding up the ginger prat was always good for a laugh.
***FTR***
The rest of the nine-hour train ride passed without further incident. When they arrived at Hogsmeade Station, the rain was steadily falling, punctuated with an occasional bolt of lightning or chilly gust of wind. By the time the Potters left the train and reached the thestral-drawn carriages, the rain had picked up in its intensity, soaking them through. A single carriage remained in line as they drew near.
"I am so glad we're not first years," Hermione said as she opened the door.
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Crossing open water in this fine Scottish weather is not exactly on my to-do list either."
Inside the carriage was a lone occupant. Both of them recognised the familiar blonde girl with Ravenclaw trim on her robe. "Do you mind if we share your carriage?" Hermione politely asked her.
The girl turned her large silver eyes towards the Potters. "Not at all, Hermione Gra…" Her eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry, Hermione Potter. You and Harry are both quite welcome." She extended her hand in greeting as the two climbed up. "I'd introduce myself," she continued, "but I have the strangest feeling that we're already the closest of friends, even though this is the first time we've met."
Hermione smiled at the younger girl, well-familiar with her perception and perspective. "We are indeed, dear Luna," she said. Luna was the one person whom there was no point in keeping secrets from. She could just look at someone and know.
When Hermione confirmed their friendship, Luna's entire face lit up. It was, both Potters realised, one of the most beautiful sights they'd ever seen. "Oh, wonderful!" she said. "I've always wanted one or two, but for some reason nobody was ever interested in being my friend. The only ones who ever really paid any attention to me over the last two years had the most dreadful wrackspurt infestations, but the blibbering humdingers told me this year would be different. They also said the nargles would leave my stuff alone too."
Hermione almost missed it, but still just managed to pick up the gleam in Luna's eyes as she mentioned her odd creatures. Once she noticed, though, she couldn't not see it. It was calculating, expectant, even amused. The little minx! she thought fondly. She's totally doing it on purpose!
"We certainly won't have to worry about nargles," Harry said. He pulled out a butterbeer cork attached to a leather cord from under his shirt to show the blonde girl. Hermione quickly followed suit, grateful that they'd decided to make them a few days before to use as an icebreaker with their favourite Ravenclaw.
The expression on Luna's face could only be described as pure joy as she saw the two homemade amulets that matched her own. "Thank you," she whispered. "You have no idea what that means to me."
"You're our friend, Luna," Hermione said, taking the other girl's hand. "You'll never be alone again, not as long as we live."
Harry took her other hand. "Will you take the protection of House Potter, Luna?" he asked. "I'm sure that we can scare the nargles even more effectively that way."
After considering for a moment, their blonde friend nodded her head. "I'd be honoured to, Harry. Thank you."
He tapped her left shoulder with his wand as he muttered a quick incantation, and a moment later the crest of House Potter appeared on the left sleeve of her robe, indicating that she was now a protectorate of the Potters. Harry and Hermione both had the crest on their right sleeves, indicating that they were members of the family, but theirs were also trimmed in gold, indicating that they were Lord and Lady Potter.
The trio settled back for the carriage ride up to the castle, engaging in small talk as they approached the school. Before leaving the carriage, Hermione cast water-repellent charms on them for the short walk across the wet flagstone courtyard and up the broad front steps to the main entrance.
As they entered the school through the massive oaken doors, they were immediately approached by Professor McGonagall. "Welcome back, Lord and Lady Potter," she greeted formally, the ghost of a smile playing across her lips. "And to you as well, Miss Lovegood. If you would excuse us, please, I need to speak privately with the Potters."
"Of course, Professor," Luna replied, turning to go to the Great Hall.
"One moment please, Professor, Luna," Harry said. "Winky," he called in a low voice.
The elegant little elf appeared instantly at his side. "Yes, Harry?" she asked as he knelt beside her.
"Thanks, Winky," he said. "This is Luna Lovegood. She's practically family to us. Over the last two years she has had the most dreadful problem with nargles stealing her belongings here at Hogwarts, and sometimes even locking her out of the Ravenclaw tower at night. Could you help us keep her safe from them this year?"
"Of course," Winky agreed. "Would you like the nargles to be identified if they bother her?"
The Potters looked at Luna, who just shrugged. "Yes, please," Harry decided. "So long as no physical harm comes to them – they're rather delicate creatures, you know."
"Very well," the elf said. "If they try to take any of Miss Lovegood's items, or try to lock her out of the tower, not only will they not succeed but they will start glowing bright yellow as well. That should make them easier to see so that we can deal with them appropriately."
McGonagall watched in fond amusement as the teens thanked the lovely house elf, who immediately popped away afterwards. After Winky disappeared, Luna took her leave and skipped away to the Great Hall.
"Sorry about that, Professor," Harry said as he turned to face his Head of House.
"Not at all, Lord Potter," she replied. "In fact, you may take five points for Gryffindor for helping take care of a friend, and another five for promoting inter-house unity."
"Thank you, Professor," he nodded. "But please, you can drop the Lord nonsense. That will be reserved for formal occasions, or for people who truly need the reminder."
"And the same goes for me too, Professor," Hermione added.
"Very well," McGonagall said. "Mr and Mrs Potter, then?"
Both teens nodded their agreement.
"Right," their professor continued. "I have married quarters prepared for you – and congratulations, by the way. I have seldom seen as perfectly-matched a couple as you two." The teens murmured their thanks as she went on. "Mr Potter, your exams for Arithmancy and Ancient Runes are scheduled for tomorrow after lunch. Likewise, your tutors have been notified of your schedules and your tuition adjusted accordingly. For now, the headmaster has requested your presence in his office before the feast."
"Wonderful," he muttered, shaking his head. "Professor, would you mind accompanying Hermione and me to the headmaster's office? We would appreciate your presence at this meeting as our Head of House."
McGonagall smiled. "Of course, Mr Potter," she said.
***FTR***
As the door to Dumbledore's office opened, Harry whipped his eyes around the room, taking note of each person there. The headmaster sat behind his desk serenely, his hands folded on top. Cornelius Fudge sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, his expression one of impatience and aggravation. In a chair beside him sat Madam Amelia Bones, head of the DMLE, looking every inch the consummate professional. And against the back wall, arms folded, stood a sneering Severus Snape. Perfect, Harry said to himself.
"Severus Tobias Snape!" he called out before anyone had an opportunity to say anything, drawing his wand and raising it over his head as he did so. "I, Harrison James Potter, Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, declare that you hold an outstanding life debt owed originally to my father, James Charlus Potter, for saving your life from a werewolf during your time as a student; that said life debt has since been compounded due to your personal involvement in events leading directly to his death; and that it has been yet further compounded due to your incessant unrepentant persecution of the heir to that life debt, namely myself; therefore, I am calling that life debt due. From this day forth to the end of your days, you will not attempt to communicate with me or interact with me in any way, shape, or form; you will not knowingly enter within fifty feet of me, and if you find yourself within that radius you will use any means at your disposal to remove yourself from that radius as quickly as you are capable; you will not communicate with anyone else, without exception, any information remotely associated with myself, for any reason whatsoever, in any way, shape, or form; you will not attempt to harm me, directly or by proxy, in any way, shape, or form; and these stipulations extend to not only myself but my family, including all extended family members by blood and by marriage, as well as my allies. Wilful violation of any stipulation will result in the loss of your magic, as well as your life. So I say, thus do I swear!" His wand flashed brightly as the compact took hold.
Snape groaned and clutched his heart as he felt the magical geas wrap around his heart. Without saying another word, he rushed past the Potters and McGonagall.
"Snape," Harry called out softly as he passed. The greasy potions master paused but refused to look in his direction. "Don't forget, magic is about intent. It is my intention that nothing you say or do will ever have the slightest impact on my life ever again, that you are and always will be a nonentity as far as my family and I are concerned. So don't bother trying to find a way around my stipulations. Or go ahead and try – see what happens. I really don't give a fuck either way beyond the fact that you are now out of my life forever. I don't even want to hear your fucking voice ever again. Whether you are alive or dead makes not the slightest difference to me."
Snape's fists clenched at his sides, but he made no further reaction. After a moment he fled down the stairs as fast as his dignity would allow.
Harry barely kept himself from laughing aloud at the expression of horrified amazement plastered across Dumbledore's face. The confusion written across Fudge's countenance was nearly as comical, and even Bones had raised an eyebrow in surprise. Only McGonagall managed to keep her face neutral. Even Hermione was struggling not to laugh.
"What – Harry, my boy, do you have any idea what you've just done?"
"Of course I do, Albus, old man, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. And it's Lord Potter to you."
"Impossible!" Dumbledore shouted, slapping his hands down on his desk. "I am your magical guardian! You cannot claim lordship without my express approval, approval which I can assure you I have absolutely not given you!"
"And yet," Harry said in a neutral tone, raising his hand to display his ring, "here I am."
The headmaster brought up his wand and cast a spell at the young man, causing the hand on which was adorned the Potter ring to glow green. At the same time, Harry summoned the headmaster's wand, recognising it as the Elder Wand. He immediately felt the wand's allegiance transfer to himself but gave no outward indication it did so. Flabbergasted, the old man sank back into his chair, his face white as a sheet.
"I trust you are satisfied as to the authenticity of my claim," Harry said. His sardonic tone shifted instantly to steel as he tossed the Elder Wand back onto the desktop. "I swear by all that's holy, though, Albus Dumbledore, if you ever cast a single fucking spell at me without my express approval, even to save my bloody life, I will have you up on so many charges you'll be dead of old age long before you can ever get them cleared."
"Yes, will." Dumbledore uncomfortably cleared his throat, inwardly left reeling. This was a disaster! He couldn't yet see how to salvage his many plans that were suddenly left in tatters at that unfortunate revelation, not to mention the loss of the Elder Wand's allegiance. There was no doubt that Harry knew he was master of the wand and all its power, yet he tossed it away like it was so much rubbish. He shuddered to think of what that could mean. "Harry, my boy…"
"Lord. Potter. Stop with your fucking games already, old man." There were a couple of shocked gasps from around the room, but Harry's unwavering gaze was focused like twin lasers on his headmaster.
"Lord Potter," the old man ground out through gritted teeth, as if acknowledging Harry's status physically pained him. "I can't say that I appreciate your language."
"After all the shit you've pulled with my life, you complain about my fucking language?" Harry scoffed. "You've certainly got cheek, don't you?"
The headmaster barely kept himself from growling out loud. He desperately wanted to lash out at the boy, but the number and positions of the witnesses prevented him from acting precipitously. Any more precipitously than he had already, he was forced to amend. The scowl on Madam Bones' face when Har– Lord Potter – had mentioned pressing charges was directed at the headmaster – as if he had done something wrong! He sighed and took a deep breath. "I really must insist that you release Severus from the life debt," he began.
"No."
"Restricting him in such a way – I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I said no."
"My – Lord Potter – you really must learn to forgive…"
"No. Hell no. Fuck no. No way in fucking hell am I ever going to allow that miserable shit stain to abuse me again. This topic is closed and off the table forever, Headmaster."
"Lord Potter…"
"Closed. Forever. Period, end of discussion. Next topic?"
Dumbledore closed his eyes and massaged his pounding temples. "I really wish you had consulted me before taking up your lordship," he lamented.
"And I wish you hadn't left me with the fucking Dursleys, Headmaster. Guess that shows us both how much wishes are worth, don't you think? Anyway, why am I up here? I doubt very much Madam Bones and Minister Fudge have come here to listen to you piss and moan over the fate of the worst fucking teacher in this goddamn school, or listen to us argue about my rightful inheritance."
Dumbledore glared at him angrily. "As a matter of fact, Lord Potter, you have been named as a person of interest in the death of Lord Malfoy."
Harry nodded, unsurprised. "Very well," he said. "I will speak to Madam Bones about it, but no one else."
The minister turned purple. "Why you…"
"Lord Potter," Madam Bones smoothly interrupted. "Perhaps you could share why you do not want anyone else to attend this discussion?"
"It's quite simple, ma'am. I don't want my words twisted or dismissed just because they may not agree with someone's politics or preconceived notions. I believe you will be fair and honest with what I say."
"Lord Potter," Dumbledore broke in, "I assure you…"
"Headmaster," Harry said as he raised his hand in a hushing motion, "right now you couldn't assure me that the Black Lake is wet. We all know for fact that the minister has a nasty habit of dismissing what he doesn't want to hear, and you do nothing to stop his foolishness."
The minister shook his finger in Harry's face. "You were confounded…"
"Bullshit!" Harry bellowed, causing the portly man to fall back into his seat in surprise as everyone else jumped, even Hermione. "Veritaserum, pensieve memory, even a goddamn magical oath – any one of those would've proven my words with no effort on your part and they still will! You chose to listen to that lying sack of shit Snape instead, a man who refuses to let go of his adolescent hatred of my father and godfather both, and nearly had a man he fucking knew was innocent kissed by the same fucking demons that nearly killed me three! goddamn! times! last year – the same demons you insisted be put here for my fucking protection!"
"Sirius Black is guilty!" Fudge insisted. "He already had a trial!"
"No he fucking didn't!" Harry roared. "Goddamn it, it wasn't even your fucking administration that dropped the quaffle!" He pointed an accusing finger at Dumbledore. "This motherfucker knows the whole story, and the only reason he still doesn't say anything is because he thinks that if Sirius is still a fugitive I'll have to go stay with the fucking Dursleys. Well, he's wrong. Not that that'll be an issue anymore."
Minister Fudge's heart was pounding furiously. No longer did he see a young teenager when he looked at the Potter lad. This young man was every inch a wrathful Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House. For the first (and hopefully last) time in his life, Fudge stared deep into the eyes of Harry Potter. This was not a child pitching a tantrum. This was a young man defending his family with lethal resolve. In that moment Fudge recognised the inevitable power-shift that was coming to magical Britain. He resolved then and there that under no circumstances would he ever cross Lord Potter again. He'd never admit it aloud, but he'd nearly soiled himself when the young man had torn into him just now.
"Do yourself a favour, Minister," Harry growled. "Rather than kissing the arses of evil people who throw you lots of gold, try doing your fucking job instead – and follow the fucking law. I promise, you'll be one of the most beloved leaders we've had if you can do that. Hell's bells, I'd vote for you myself. Consider that while I meet with Madam Bones."
"Lord Potter…"
"No, Headmaster. I have nothing more to say to you." He turned to the director of the DMLE. "Madam Bones, if you will join me? I'm sure Professor McGonagall can find an empty classroom for us before the feast."
As Hermione took his arm, a disgruntled Dumbledore spoke up. "Lord Potter, while I disagree with your assessment that you do not require my counsel, I know for fact that Miss Granger has no business attending either."
Harry turned, fixing the headmaster with an angry glare. "You just can't help it, can you? Any time there's an opportunity to stick your goddamn nose into other people's business you just have to take it. For your information, sir, Hermione is the Lady Potter, and therefore fully entitled to be at my side in any meeting I attend. And going forward, sir, with all due respect, mind your own fucking business."
The blood drained from his face as he gaped at Harry in astonishment. "No… no! You can't be married to her. You have to have my permission, I'm your magical guardian. And besides, you are already in a betrothal contract. No, we'll have to have this overturned immediately."
"Ah, yes," Harry smirked. "That contract with the Weasleys. I assure you, we both took great pleasure in seeing it stamped Invalid." His jovial expression melted once more into anger. "In spite of all your machinations, Dumbledore, you were never recognised by Magic as my guardian of any type. You had no authority to seal my parents' wills, claim guardianship, basically kidnap me from my rightful guardian, place me as a helpless infant in an abusive environment, make an illegal contract…" He trailed off, staring intently at the headmaster.
"But… you don't understand," Dumbledore pleaded. "Promises have been made, money has exchanged hands. Expectations must be fulfilled!"
"Not my fucking problem," Harry shrugged. "All that's between you and the Weasleys, old man."
"This shouldn't be possible," he insisted.
"You never did check the Book of Souls, did you?" Harry laughed. "You know what, fuck this. Madam Bones, I changed my mind. I want this manipulative old bastard brought up on every charge we can get away with. For too long has he been allowed to get away with doing whatever enters that diseased tumour he calls a brain. It's long past time someone stood up to him. I'll give you a brief overview in our meeting, and then I'll be at your disposal when you need a formal statement, evidence, or anything else. Minister Fudge, think on what I said. Headmaster, enjoy the Welcoming Feast. If I have my way it'll be the last one you ever attend." With that, he led the three women from the office, leaving two stunned men in his wake.
"Cornelius," the aged Headmaster spoke, "it is imperative that young Harry's lordship be overturned, his marriage annulled, and that he be brought back under control."
Fudge was already shaking his head. "And just how do you propose we do that, Albus? He wears the ring – Magic herself has spoken. Even if it was possible to overcome that, there is not a House in the Wizengamot that will tolerate the Ministry interfering with internal House matters like that."
"They will just have to accept it," the headmaster insisted. "You are the minister, I am the Chief Warlock. Between the two of us I'm quite sure we can force the issue. The very survival of our world demands that this happens."
"No, Albus," Fudge said. "I will not become Lord Potter's enemy over this or anything else. I could see it in his eyes – he is not the wilful student you seem to think he is. He is Lord Potter, no question about it, and he will ruthlessly defend and protect what is his. As long as he is breaking no laws, it is best not to cross him. I tell you now, as soon as I get to my office tomorrow morning I will be making arrangements to give Sirius Black his trial. If you do not want an investigation as to why he didn't get one in the first place, I suggest that you do everything in your power to make sure that trial is judged fairly."
"Really, Cornelius! Are you suggesting that I would interfere with the course of justice?"
"Save it, Albus!" the minister snapped. "You know as well as I that if you really don't want a certain course of action to take place, it tends not to, and that the reciprocal is just as true. And just as true, your fingerprints will be nowhere nearby. I'm telling you all this because I don't want to make the colossal mistake of underestimating Lord Potter. That is one young man you do not want as an enemy."
"Poppycock," Dumbledore exclaimed, waving a dismissive hand. "For all his assumed title, he's still just a boy, and that fact is what we really should be addressing right now."
"You didn't see his eyes, Albus," Fudge said as he got to his feet. "If you did, you wouldn't be as hell-bent on your own destruction as you are right now. For your own sake heed my words, because the ministry under no circumstances will make him our enemy – if we did I fear that there would no longer be a ministry. And if justice for Sirius Black is perverted, then rest assured that Lord Potter will know how and by whom." Without waiting for acknowledgement, the minister turned and flooed home.
Albus Dumbledore glared after the departing minister, fuming in offended pique. It was self-evident more than ever before that Fudge was a blind, short-sighted fool who never should have been allowed to run for office. Damnation, with Lucius Malfoy out of the picture it should have been child's play to bend the man to his will! The man never so much as sneezed without checking public opinion beforehand to decide with which hand to wipe his nose!
It was clear that an even more malleable person would have to be installed as minister before his plans could proceed as they should, but with the Triwizard Tournament already in motion and the eyes of the magical world affixed to Britain accordingly, he would not be able to manipulate a vote of no-confidence in Fudge until next summer, when the unwelcome scrutiny of the world's press representatives would be gone. He was certain he could get Arthur Weasley installed as minister, and if he could then virtually anything he wanted would be passed. Arthur was all but controlled by Molly, who in turn believed that the sun rose and set with Albus Dumbledore. Molly thought very little of pureblood tradition, an attitude Dumbledore was only too happy to encourage, and therefore Arthur would be easily persuaded to reject tradition and overturn young Harry's lordship and marriage. If only the blasted tournament wasn't in the way! All of these problems could otherwise be sorted in a matter of weeks.
Grumbling to himself, he left his office and made his way to the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast. It was a good thing he could practically conduct the feast in his sleep. His mind would be on far more than new and returning students.
***FTR***
"Let me see if I have this straight," Amelia Bones said as she consulted her notes. "The two of you were accosted outside Gringotts by Lord Malfoy, and during the ensuing conversation he challenged you to a duel."
"That's correct," Harry said.
They were sitting in an unused classroom not far from the Great Hall where McGonagall had taken them for their meeting. After requesting that the Potters meet her after the feast so they could be shown to their new quarters, the professor then left, using her duty of collecting the new first years as the reason she would later give Albus for not sticking around to eavesdrop on their conversation. At Harry's request Madam Bones had also set up an anti-eavesdropping field, to include the few portraits that hung in the classroom.
The painted faces glared at Harry after that with expressions ranging from merely disgruntled to outright offended. Harry merely shrugged and brandished his Head of House ring, giving each portrait a significant look – almost as if he dared them to make an issue of it. Some nodded acceptance, others turned away in a strop, but all settled down.
Director Bones raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Just dealing with Dumbledore's spy ring for the school," he said. "There's no way he's not using the portraits to keep tabs on people."
The Director sighed, shaking her head. It stood to reason, really. She didn't know if he just didn't trust anyone, or if he had an insatiable need to poke his crooked nose into everyone else's business, or some strange combination of the two, but the man's tendency to collect and hoard every scrap of information without sharing or acting on it was infuriating at best and obsessive at worst.
Once the classroom was secured, he gave a brief overview of their encounter with Lucius Malfoy, Director Bones scribbling down notes as he shared the tale.
"Then after Magic accepted his commitment, you accepted the duel formally as Lord Potter, and due to your position and rank you escalated what began as little more than an honour dispute into a duel to the death."
"As is my right, Director Bones, when challenged by someone who really should know better."
She pursed her lips, not disputing Lord Potter's legal rights, but definitely not approving of the extreme measure he'd taken. "Be that as it is, Lord Potter, was it really necessary to kill him, let alone to beat the man to death?"
It was Harry's turn to sigh as Hermione squeezed his hand in silent support. "Director Bones, is there any doubt that Lucius Malfoy was an unrepentant Death Eater?"
The Director grimaced, as if the room had suddenly filled with an unpleasant odour. "There has never been any proof…"
"Goddamn it, Amelia!" Harry barked, smacking his free hand on the desk and causing the two women to jump. "I didn't ask you if there was any fucking proof! That slimy motherfucker has a greater survival instinct than a goddamn cockroach. I asked if there was personally any doubt in the mind of Director Bones that Lucius Malfoy was an unrepentant Death Eater, whether she could prove it or not."
"None whatsoever," the director said through gritted teeth. "I don't appreciate your tone, though, Lord Potter."
"My apologies, Director," Harry said quietly. "No reflection intended on you, but too many people for far too long have been willing to look the other way and ignore the actions of people they know to be guilty. Lucius Malfoy was the chief financier of Voldemort's insanity and an eager participant. I know for fact that the dark lord is not as dead as we would like – he is currently stuck in an incorporeal form as a wraith of sorts, and is desperately trying to find a way to come back and pick up where he left off. I will do everything in my power to ensure that his organisation is gutted before he has the opportunity. With Malfoy, I took the opportunity to rid our world of a thoroughly evil man, as well as ridding Voldemort of a significant measure of his wealth. Best of all, I did so legally. The Wizengamot and ministry can bluster all they want, the proper forms were followed and accepted by Magic, and the duel was formally witnessed by Gringotts."
Somewhat mollified, Madam Bones nodded her head. "Well, there's no doubt that you struck a decisive blow against him," she acknowledged. "You're certain Voldemort is returning?"
"I faced his wraith myself during first year," Harry responded.
"At Hogwarts?"
"Yes ma'am."
"What the bloody hell was that madman doing at Hogwarts?" she demanded.
"Trying to get the Philosopher's Stone that Dumbledore had hidden here."
The director gave him a long, searching gaze. "Are you telling me that Albus Dumbledore hid one of the most valuable and powerful alchemical artefacts ever created in a school? That an insane, homicidal undead dark lord was hunting for this same artefact?"
"That's basically it," Harry confirmed.
Amelia sighed and massaged her temples. "My niece is your age, so she would have been here too," she said. "I refuse to believe for a moment that Albus was unaware of the situation. The man covets information as much as Voldemort coveted power."
"Not that he ever does a goddamn thing with it," Hermione muttered. She reached into Harry's coat pocket and pulled out the cigarettes and his skull lighter. Removing two from the pack, she lit both and handed one to Harry before she took a deep drag of her own.
"I agree," Harry replied to Madam Bones after taking a puff. "Thing is, I don't think he was looking to protect the stone so much as to force a confrontation between Voldemort and me."
"What do you mean?"
"Let me put it to you like this. Imagine, for a moment, that you have a priceless artefact in your possession, and you know that a sadistic maniac will stop at nothing to collect it. You know that said maniac has successfully broken into Gringotts in an attempt to steal it, and the only reason he failed was that you had already removed it from the bank. How would you secure and protect that artefact?"
Amelia frowned in thought. "I suppose that I could lock it up in a warded vault in a secure location, then hide the location under a fidelius with myself as the secret keeper," she suggested.
Harry nodded in approval. "Not bad," he said. "And I'm sure that between the three of us we can come up with another half-dozen ways just as effective without too much effort. What we wouldn't do is design what amounts to little more than an obstacle course that a handful of determined firsties could get through – yet that is exactly what His Greatness chose to do. And guess who the poor sod was who dragged a couple of his firstie friends through said obstacle course?"
Amelia stared at him with an incredulous expression. "What the fuck was that old fool thinking?" she wondered aloud.
"I suspect it was a deliberate ploy on his part to force the confrontation between the two of us and determine what, if any, defences I may have due to my mother's sacrifice. With that knowledge he could draw up his plans accordingly and move me into the right place at the right time or some shit." He shook his head before taking another puff of his cigarette. "Anyway, that's neither here nor there. I'll give you my full cooperation during your investigation. Just let me know when you need my statements and memories. Point is, Voldemort is trying to return, I've taken away his chief financier, and Dumbledore seems to be setting me up for something. He's for goddamn certain not taking care of me for my health."
The director checked her pocket watch for the time. "Lord Potter, rest assured that we have ample cause to begin an investigation into Mr Dumbledore's actions at the school. My department will be contacting you shortly, and you as well, Lady Potter. For now, you two should have plenty of time to join the feast."
Harry had one last thing to add as he and his wife arose to their feet. "Madam Bones, if I may make a suggestion, please make certain of the loyalty of each and every auror in the corps. As with Malfoy, while I have no admissible proof, I know for fact that Corbin Yaxley is a Death Eater, and I have questions about John Dawlish as well. Alastor Moody is old friends with Dumbledore, as I'm sure you know, and I'm pretty sure Kingsley Shacklebolt is under his influence as well. I think Nymphadora Tonks means well, but Shacklebolt and Moody, and by extension Dumbledore, have too much influence over her. If she can get out from under their sway then I think she'll be one of your best aurors."
Director Bones gave him a hard look. "Lord Potter, you are remarkably well-informed for your age," she observed.
He returned her gaze without flinching. "I believe you are one of the few people in the ministry at this time who can be trusted," he responded. "Once we get through all this and don't have to worry about Voldemort or Dumbledore anymore, I'll be happy to sit down with you sometime and tell you the whole story. Off the record, of course."
She maintained eye contact for a moment before giving an abrupt nod. "Very well," she said. "I look forward to that conversation."
"It's a hell of a story," he said. "I'd recommend having a bottle of Ogden's Finest on hand. In the meantime…" he leaned forward with a slight bow. "We must be to the feast." With that, he held out his arm for Hermione and the teens left the classroom.
Before she left, Madam Bones cast her patronus – an imposing bullmastiff – and sent a message to Professor McGonagall, letting her know that she was leaving the school but would be returning within the next couple of weeks to interview the Potters and any other students deemed necessary to the impending case.
***FTR***
The Sorting was nearing the end as Harry and Hermione reached the oaken double doors leading into the Great Hall, so they decided to wait until it was done before entering. They stood in the shadowy Entrance Hall and listened to the familiar raspy voice of the Sorting Hat calling out the name of one of the four houses, followed by applause before Professor McGonagall called the next name on her list. When the last name was called and the Sorting Hat along with its stool was taken away, the Potters slipped inside and made their way to the end of the Gryffindor table furthest away from the head table. Dumbledore was making a few announcements and introductions as they came in, but if the headmaster saw them he gave no outward indication that he did.
As they took their seats at the end of the table, there was a flash of lightning and crash of thunder from the enchanted ceiling overhead that reflected the storm raging outside. They looked at each other knowingly as the headmaster introduced Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody as the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It was quite likely that Barty Crouch Junior was taking Moody's place this time around as well, but they wouldn't know for certain until they confirmed his identity with the Marauder's Map.
They settled down to their meal, ignoring the sidelong glances of their curious housemates as well as the hateful glare emanating from a certain ginger prat sitting halfway down the table. The usual hubbub of several hundred teens and preteens arose around them as they ate, and for a few minutes they were able to feel like normal teens.
Hermione couldn't help but to notice Luna sitting serenely at the end of the Ravenclaw table by herself. When the blonde girl noticed her new friend looking at her, she gave Hermione a warm smile and little wave. "Harry," she sighed, "it looks like Luna is already getting the cold shoulder from the 'claws again."
His eyes narrowed as he saw the lonely girl sitting by herself. He swivelled his head around and saw Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecomb, and several other girls he didn't know giggling with their heads together, occasionally glancing down the table to where Luna sat. "Goddamn it," Harry growled. "Can she join us at our table so she doesn't have to deal with that shit?"
"Not for the Welcoming, Leaving, and Hallowe'en Feasts," Hermione answered. "The rest of the year is fine."
"Then maybe I'll put some of this Boy-Who-Lived bullshit to good use," he said, rising to his feet. Hermione squeezed his hand in approval as he made his way around the end of the Gryffindor table.
Without overtly drawing attention to himself, he made his way to the end of the Ravenclaw table. "Miss Lovegood," he said formally, albeit in a low voice and with a twinkle in his eye, "my wife and I would be honoured if you would grace us with your presence for all allowed meals going forward. We happen to find your company delightful and entertaining, and we would welcome you with open arms." He reached out to a beaming Luna, took her hand, and brought it to his lips.
"I would be delighted, good sir," she giggled.
"Excellent!" he said. "Then we will plan to meet you at the foot of the Grand Staircase in the morning. If you have any trouble at all, please send us a message with Winky." Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Chang and her friends staring at him and Luna, each looking absolutely gobsmacked. Deliberately, he leaned over and kissed her cheek before heading back to the Gryffindor table, silently laughing at the dumbfounded expressions on the faces of Chang and her bitches.
His wife smirked at him as he rejoined her. "I think you have well and truly fucked with their heads," she laughed.
"I just hope those girls from the house of the intelligent understand what that crest on her sleeve means," he muttered.
"Based on what I remember, I wouldn't hold my breath," Hermione remarked.
As the young couple continued their meal, a set of identical twin red-headed lads approached from further down the table and plopped down across from them, expectant eyes gazing across the table at them from above folded hands.
"Harrikins and the delectable Miss Granger," one of them said.
"Gred, Forge," Harry greeted. "How can we help you gentlemen this fine evening?" Nobody he knew could really tell Fred and George apart – even their own mother had difficulty identifying one from the other.
Both smiled in eerie unison, but the other one spoke up this time. "Our younger idiot – sorry, brother – has been in a right royal snit all afternoon and evening," he said.
"Perhaps you could shed some light on why he's being a prat today?" the first twin said.
"Sorry, more of a prat," the second twin corrected. "Being a prat is pretty much a constant state of existence for ickle Ronnikins, you understand."
"My slightly less attractive brother has a valid point," the first twin acknowledged. "His prat level was well above average today."
"He's just pissed that Harry and I are together," Hermione answered. "Somehow he got it into his head that I belonged to him and that Harry belonged to your sister – as if we were nothing more than fucking possessions that existed for no other reason than to benefit the two youngest Weasleys. Our thoughts and desires are irrelevant, apparently."
The twins looked at each other in chagrin. "That would probably be Mum's fault," the first one slowly said.
"We've heard her suggesting that our two youngest pursue the two of you," the second added. "Seems to be one of her favourite topics of conversation."
"'Oh, Ronnie, you should definitely try to win Hermione's heart!'" the first said, pitching his voice in a ridiculous falsetto. "'She'd be so good for you!'"
"And not a goddamn word about whether or not he'd be good for me," Hermione snapped, giving her husband a meaningful look.
"Regardless, gents, your thick-headed brother is convinced that he is entitled to Hermione, regardless of her feelings, or the reality of the situation," Harry said. He placed his right hand on the table between them. The ornate Potter Head of House ring could not be mistaken. "Do you know what this means?" he quietly asked the paling twins.
"Is that for real?" the first twin asked.
"It is."
They both nodded. "We do indeed, Lord Potter," the second said. There was not a hint of levity in his voice.
"Good." He placed his left hand beside his right, and at his nod Hermione reached over and placed her left hand on the table as well. At the sight of the Lord and Lady wedding rings, the twins' faces lost all remaining colour. Harry nodded in grim satisfaction as he saw their reaction. "Line theft is a capital offence in our world, gents," he said. "I want to reassure you that I have no intention whatsoever of calling a blood feud against House Weasley should Ron – or any other Weasley – attempt to interfere in our marriage, despite having the full right under law to do so. However, rest assured that I will declare personal vendetta against any and all guilty parties. You know what that means." Both young men nodded, glancing worriedly down the table towards their younger brother. Looking up from his food, Ron sneered at them before grabbing another chicken leg and stuffing the meaty end completely in his mouth, pulling the clean bone out and messily chewing the meat he'd just stripped from the leg.
"Fucking disgusting," Hermione growled, turning away. She pointed at the twins, almost jabbing one in the chest with her finger. "If you want that jackass to have a hope of surviving you'd better find a way of getting through that thick fucking skull of his. Because otherwise he's going to do something that will force us to respond. And you better believe we're not fucking around anymore."
The twins gulped in unison as they began to stand. "We'll make sure he gets the message," the first one said.
"You may want to let your dad know," Harry suggested. "He's your Head of House, so he'd have a better chance of getting through to Ron."
"If Mum lets him," the first twin muttered.
"You know, she's quite set on you being her son-in-law too, Lord Potter," his brother added.
"That will not happen," Harry said. "Any attempt to separate us will be met with the full retribution of House Potter, make no mistake about that. I suggest you warn your entire family accordingly. I state here and now, unequivocally, that Hermione Potter, my soul-bound wife, is and will be the only Lady Potter of this generation."
"We understand, Lord Potter," the second twin said, inclining his head respectfully.
"We just hope the rest of our family will too."
The Potters nodded in acknowledgement and the twins moved away back down the table.
Ron chose that moment to open his mouth. "Oi, Potter – urk!" He broke off as a hand gripped the back of his neck like a steel vice.
"Shut the fuck up right now, Ron," one of the twins hissed in his ear.
"But – ow!" he yelped as his brother's grip tightened.
"Not another fucking word, idiot!" The twins traded resigned glances with each other. "You'd better come with us right now, o brother mine. And for Merlin's sake, keep your bloody gob shut!"
"I'm not finished eating!"
"You're never finished eating, Ronnikins," the other twin said. "This is much more important." The iron grip on Ron's neck lifted him up, giving him no alternative but to scramble to his feet. "Life and death important, and you'd best pay attention for once in your bloody life."
They frog-marched him past the Potters, not giving him the opportunity to say anything to the couple, and out into the Entrance Hall. Not stopping, they passed the Grand Staircase and went into the first unused classroom they found, slamming their brother down into an empty seat.
"Oi!" Ron yelped.
"Dear brother Ronald," the first twin said, "there are some things you desperately need to know before you effectively commit suicide."
"First," said the other, "Harry and Hermione are soul-bound married, not just dating."
It took a moment to sink in. "What?" Ron bellowed when it clicked. "I'll bloody kill that son of a bitch!" He leapt to his feet only for his brothers to grab his arms and slam him back down into the seat.
"Second, and more importantly," the first twin said, "Harry is actually Lord Potter of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter. He wears the Lord's ring, so it is officially recognised by Magic, and Hermione wears the Lady's ring."
Ron scowled at the twins. "So? Just cause he's all high and mighty now doesn't mean he gets to steal my girl."
The second twin shook his head. "She wears the Lady's ring, my abnormally dim-witted brother. That cannot be coerced."
Seeing the look of confusion on his younger brother's face, the first twin sighed. "That means that she wanted to be Lady Potter and to be with Harry. Besides, they also said that they are soul-bound."
"Yeah, right," Ron scoffed. "They're just saying that. Mum says there's a betrothal contract between Harry and Ginny, so there's no way they can be married."
The twins traded a look. "Ron, they wear the rings," the second said. "Magic supports them, not you. As Lord Potter, he has the right to declare blood feud against anyone disrupting his marriage. Do you know what that means?"
Ron shook his head.
"That means that he could legally hunt down and slaughter our entire family. In fact, he could be obligated to do so."
"Every single one of us, Ron. You, us, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Mum, Dad, and Ginny. Every single one of us dead because you just can't let it go. It will all be your fault. Do you want your baby sister's blood on your hands? Mum's? Dad's?"
Wide-eyed, their younger brother looked at each of his brothers in turn. Although Harry had specifically told them he was not interested in pursuing blood feud, they both agreed that as hot-headed as Ron was, he did not need to know that.
"Do us all a favour and just stay the hell away from Lord and Lady Potter. Don't even speak to them! Merlin's balls, don't even bloody look at them!"
Finally starting to grasp the seriousness of the situation, the youngest Weasley brother could only nod his head. "It's still not bloody fair," he muttered to himself, too low for his older brothers to hear.
***FTR***
The Welcoming Feast was, Luna decided, the best she'd experienced since arriving at Hogwarts. It was the first meal she could remember in which she did not have to endure snide comments, malicious giggles, and random pieces of food being thrown at her, not to mention the myriad small but irritating hexes continually sent her way.
After Harry had come over and spoken to her – and even kissed her cheek! – Chang and her bitches hadn't said a single word between them since. She caught their incredulous expressions every time they glanced her way, only for them to quickly turn away when they saw her looking at them. Shaking her head, Luna decided to enjoy her dinner and mentally prepare for the inevitable confrontation. It would be nice, of course, if her tormentors would actually get a bloody clue and leave her the hell alone, but she did not hold out any hope in that regard. The so-called Ravenclaw Queens had invested too much into their popularity and her own unpopularity for them to give it up now. No matter what, she vowed, she would never turn her back on her new friends Harry and Hermione.
Sure enough, as the Ravenclaws made their way back up to the tower after the feast was over, someone behind her shoved her into an unused classroom. Quickly but gracefully catching herself before she stumbled or fell, she turned as if she had deliberately entered the classroom of her own will. She found herself surrounded by a semicircle of five girls with their leader Cho Chang in the centre. Standing to the left of the pretty Chinese fifth year was Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag MacDougal, and on her right was Chang's best friend Marietta Edgecomb along with Lisa Turpin. All five held their wands at the low ready position and all five looked pissed off. Luna's own wand was tucked as usual behind her left ear, but she didn't bother reaching for it.
"Girls," Luna greeted, politely nodding her head. "How may I assist you tonight?"
Chang blinked, momentarily taken aback by Luna's nonchalant demeanour. "You can stay away from the Boy-Who-Lived, Looney," she growled. "He's much too good for the likes of you."
"Oh dear," Luna replied, a faint smile on her face. "I hadn't realised your wrackspurt infestations were so severe. Normally they don't cause selective blindness though. I'd suspect umgubular slashkilters, but an infestation of those is usually accompanied by severe constipation and chronic flatulance."
"Shut up, Looney!" Edgecomb shrieked. "No one wants to hear about your stupid made-up animals! You just better listen to us and stay away from Harry Potter!"
"Now why in the world would I want to listen to five jealous bitches and ignore one of the few people who actually wants to be my friend?" she said, all traces of humour gone. "Who the hell do you think you are to try to dictate my social life?"
"No one wants to be your friend, you stupid cow!" Chang screamed, shaking her wand at the younger blonde girl. Angry sparks dribbled from the end of the wand and fell to the stone floor. "No one wants you around! You're nothing, nobody! Why don't you just stay home where you belong!"
Luna smiled then, but it was more feral than amused. "So I'm nothing, nobody," she repeated. "That must be why you bitches spend so much time and effort trying to keep me in my place." Her smile widened as the red-faced girls spluttered in protest. "That must also be why Lord Potter placed me personally under his House's protection."
Their protestations ceased as suddenly as if she had poured cold water over each of them. Rapidly paling faces and gaping mouths replaced their indignant threats.
"Don't tell me you geniuses failed to notice this?" she laughed as she touched the Potter family crest on her left sleeve. "You know, girls, legally I could demand restitution for this… slight. Just imagine what the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House could do if someone under his immediate protection were to be threatened and intimidated." She advanced on Chang, a scowl on her face. The older girl backed nervously away until her back impacted the wall of the classroom, and Luna stopped only when her nose was less than an inch away from her chief tormentor's.
"I suggest you collect your bitches and leave me the hell alone," she hissed. "And that includes my stuff too."
"How… how do we know that crest is legitimate?" Edgecomb stammered. She gulped and took an involuntary step back when Luna turned her raptor gaze upon her. The blonde girl's silver eyes added an unsettling element to the intense expression on her face as they glittered eerily in the dim room. All five of the girls suddenly wished they'd never heard of Luna Lovegood.
"Is making my life a living hell really worth it?" Luna whispered. "Are you truly so desperate to torment me that you'd deliberately anger Lord and Lady Potter to do so?" She swept her glare across the five girls, all of whom cringed. "Do you have any concept of how suicidal that is?" She shook her head in disgust as she shoved Chang and Brocklehurst aside so she could reach the door. "You five need to get a bloody life."
The five looked at each other in consternation as the younger girl swept out of the room. It seemed that when Harry Potter had entered the Great Hall that evening there was a shift in power, and the five were suddenly unsure of their standing in relation to that shift.
Before any of them could move or even say a word, a faint pop echoed through the dim room, signifying the arrival of a house elf. The creature that appeared in their midst, though, was unlike any they'd seen before.
She – definitely she! – was similar to a house elf in some respects, at least as far as the large, luminous eyes went, but she was a full foot taller than any house elf the girls had ever seen. Her petite, curvaceous frame was accentuated by the black skirt and coat that looked tailor-made for her as luxurious brunette hair tumbled down her back like a silken waterfall.
The newcomer raised a slender hand and snapped her fingers, immobilising the quintet. "You should know," she said, "that Lord Potter has tasked me with ensuring the safety of Miss Lovegood and her possessions. It would behove you all to leave her alone. As it stands…" She snapped her fingers again, summoning all five wands to her grasp. "You will have to explain to Professor Flitwick exactly why your wands are in his office tomorrow morning. Do not think of lying or dissembling either. I will know, and you will most certainly regret it." She disappeared with another pop, taking their wands with her.
The shaken girls were released at the same moment, and they huddled together as they attempted to regain their composure. Turpin and Brocklehurst were actually weeping in fear. Not a one of them was looking forward to confessing their actions to their Head of House the following morning.
***FTR***
As the rest of the Gryffindors made their way to their tower, the new crop of firsties dutifully following the prefects, the Potters remained seated as they waited for Professor McGonagall to finish up so they could be shown to their new quarters. "I am so ready for this day to be finished," Hermione yawned, stretching her arms over her head. "I could certainly use a nice long soak in a hot bath."
"We'll have to confirm the facilities first," Harry mused, "but regardless I'm sure that a full body massage could easily be in your immediate future."
Hermione immediately latched onto his arm and looked up at him with adoration. "Harry, my love," she purred, "that would make your wife very, very happy!"
He tilted his head down to kiss her, to which she eagerly responded. As they were in public they were careful to not get too carried away, but neither did they try to hide their love for each other. They were interrupted by a gentle clearing of the throat from behind them. Turning, they saw Professor McGonagall standing there, her stern countenance offset by just the slightest twinkle in her eye and the barest upturn of her mouth.
"Mr and Mrs Potter," she said. "If you would come with me, I will show you to your new rooms."
The teens climbed to their feet and hand-in-hand followed their Head of House. As they left the Great Hall, Harry couldn't help but to notice a scowling Severus Snape deliberately looking everywhere but at the Potters.
"Professor McGonagall," Harry said, "in light of me calling Snape's life debt due, Luna Lovegood, as my protectorate, is unable to attend his classes. If at all possible I'd like for her to share instruction with us."
The Professor nodded as they neared the Grand Staircase. Overhead, two of the stairways slowly rotated around to new positions. "I will talk to Filius tonight and see what can be done. We will let you two and Miss Lovegood know about it tomorrow morning."
"Thanks, Professor," the two said in unison.
McGonagall led them to an alcove not far from the entry to Gryffindor Tower. The alcove contained two marble statues of knights in full plate armour, one male and the other female. Instead of helms, they each had a thin but elegant circled carved around their brow. They both wore capes that were carven with such skill that it seemed that they were woven from silk before being transfigured into stone. Likewise, their naked swords looked as sharp and as smooth as the steel they were supposed to resemble. The male knight had a well-trimmed goatee and shoulder-length hair, while the female knight had wavy tresses that flowed to midway down her back.
The Professor stopped in front of the statues. "Matrimonium," she quietly said. The statues moved aside, opening a doorway into a hallway. "This is the Gryffindor Married Quarters," she said. "There are four permanent suites, which is usually much more than is ever needed, but the wing can be expanded as needed. I can't recall the last time that happened, though."
She led the way into the hallway and stopped again at the first door on the right. "This will be your suite," she said. The oaken door was inset three feet into an alcove, as were the doors to the other three suites. A painting hung on the right-side of the alcove, two and a half feet wide by four feet high. The scene depicted the royal wedding of a king and queen long forgotten.
McGonagall tapped the priest overseeing the wedding with her wand. "You'll need to set your own password to your suite," she explained.
The Potters traded a glance before Hermione smirked at her husband. "Restitution," she said.
McGonagall raised a single eyebrow but tapped the portrait of the priest again. The cleric bowed to them and gestured towards the suite's door, which promptly opened. The royal couple ignored everyone else, apparently too enamoured with each other to notice, and began passionately kissing each other.
Ignoring the amorous painting, the Professor gestured to the suite. "Your new quarters," she said. "As you are officially married, and Lord and Lady besides, many of the rules no longer apply to you. I would ask, though, as a courtesy, to respect those rules as much as possible, particularly those related to curfew and leaving the grounds, and to please let me know in advance of any foreseen exceptions or exemptions you may require."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said. "We will certainly do our best to comply."
"Very well. I will see you two in the morning with your schedules." With that, Professor McGonagall turned and left the wing.
Arm in arm, the young couple entered their new quarters. A luxurious sitting room greeted them first, with a plush sofa, two easy chairs, a cocktail table, and two desks sitting side by side against the wall opposite a large fireplace containing a roaring fire. Across from the entrance to the suite, another door led into a comfortable bed chamber containing a four-post canopied emperor-size bed, two nightstands, a wardrobe, and a chest-of-drawers. Their trunks were placed side by side under a large curtained window. A door beside the window led outside to a spacious porch, while another door beside the bed took them to an opulent bathroom, complete with a separate water closet.
A Roman-style bath was sunk into the floor and boasted almost as many faucets and nozzles as the prefects' bath. An open shower stall with a half-wall short enough to look over was tucked into one corner and was easily large enough to accommodate them both. The massive shower head was installed overhead in a waterfall-style fixture while a wide bench ran across the inside of the stall, opposite the half-wall. On the other side of the central bath, a wide counter containing two sinks was built against the smooth stone wall, upon which hung a long mirror that stretched the entire length of the counter. The water closet was behind another door just off the main bathroom and contained a toilet and a small sink.
Hermione gently poked her husband in the ribs. "I hope you're taking notes," she teased. "A girl could easily get accustomed to living like this!"
"You and me both, love," he agreed as he looked around their rooms in delight. "And it looks like you'll be getting your hot bath in addition to the massage. Which would you like first?"
"Bath first, then massage," she said as she began loosening her tie and unbuttoning her shirt. "I trust you'll be joining me?"
"But of course," he smiled as he followed suit.
***Author's Note***
My deepest apologies to those who want them, but I don't write lemons. I'm good with innuendo, hints, build up, flirting, etc, but the way I'm wired, I prefer that explicit sexual activity happens off-screen. Even when reading stories containing such I tend to skip through (as I actually find them a bit boring) so I can get back to the meat and potatoes of the tale. Sorry if this disappoints anyone, but I hope you enjoy the story regardless.