At the Horns of the Alter
Someone knocked even though it was the middle of the afternoon.
"It's open," said Lucius Malfoy.
The teen that entered was just about the last Lucius expected.
He sprang to his feet.
No, Not the last teen I'd expect, but his very existence in this building, was strong evidence of exactly how things were going in Britain.
Almost too good to be true.
"Do you have the password?" said Lucius.
Lord Potter blinked owlishly at him for several seconds, then said, "The Spider Queen requested that I bring you 'dry clothes.' "
Narcissa had mentioned 'dry clothes' when she told him maybe he should take the night off. He'd gone to the muster intent on begging off, but the Dark Lord had been intent on including most everyone, and administering loyalty tests, even assigning duties even to those not going on the raid. Lucius had deemed it extremely dangerous to draw attention to himself by requesting time off. But he'd also sneaked away at an opportune moment and hid in his office.
"Alright," said Lucius, "You have my attention."
"Do you want dry clothes?" said Lord Potter, "Or are you content to drown here all alone?"
"I have no intention of drowning," said Lucius, "alone or otherwise."
Lord Potter nodded, drew his wand and erected several privacy palings, across the door and window.
Lucius decided not to mention that all of them were redundant compared to the office's main privacy features.
He stalked forward and laid his wand on the desk.
"Uncle Lucius," said Harry, "show me the mark my captive left on your arm."
Lucius blinked. The idea that the Dark Lord wasn't dead, but safely and completely captured … that meant … if the Dark Lord really believed that, really surrendered, it might take next to nothing to trigger a cascade transition.
Lucius pulled up his left sleeve and held it out.
Harry barely glanced at it. He's seen them before.
Then their eyes stayed locked.
"Would you like to be rid of it?"
I'd get down on my knees if I thought that would help. "Yes."
Harry kept their eyes locked, while he lifted his empty wand hand and—
The magic shifted and boiled all around them. The decades-old strain on Lucius' occlumency dissolved away, leaving an exhausted ache in its wake. He looked down. The mark on his arm was no longer a skull and snake, still black with a touch of green, but he could get used to it in time.
"Thank you, my lord," he said.
Harry stayed frozen for several long seconds, "Well then," he whispered.
After several seconds he lowered his hand to his side.
"You may find it useful for hiding in plain sight," said Harry, "or for requesting permission for your plans at a distance."
He'd heard rumours to the effect of the first one, and the second wasn't an uncommon side effect of thrall vows, regardless of how they were extracted. "Yes, my lord."
Harry glared at him, "I killed most of the death eaters, that I caught trespassing in my Manor," said Harry, "There's a chance still I might do that if you use unforgivables where my wards can see you. Of the remainder, I or a member of my Houses changed their marks. Some I gave the option to have them removed in exchange for a hefty fine."
Lucius nodded.
"To you, I think, I won't make that offer."
Lucius nodded. Because I'm too useful to let go free.
"If you want yours off," said Harry, "Not only do you need to pay 2000 galleons, you also need Draco and Narcissa both to advocate for it."
That either would be pathetically easy to arrange, or extremely hard, depending on … several factors.
"Yes, My lord."
"Can you really get away with saying that all the time?"
"What?"
"Is your Wizengamot seat at risk if anyone hears you?"
"Yes," said Lucius, "but that has been true for years. But clear communication at transitional points in a relationship is very important."
"No doubt," said Harry.
"Should I expect blackmail from you about that?" said Lucius, "Or is the fact that I wear your mark sufficient."
"And you accepted my mark faster than anyone else," said Harry.
"That may have more to do with your growing readiness to take charge, and your impression of my worth to your future goals, and less to do with …" Lucius' breath caught and he could not finish.
"Can't talk about your submission?" said Harry.
"The opposite," said Lucius, "The Dark Lord was thorough in his conditioning of those of us who needed it, I have practice submitting. I could not bring myself to suggest that it had nothing to do with the speed at which you changed my mark."
Harry gave him an odd look and then nodded, "Good, do your best not to lie to me. At least in private."
Lucius nodded.
"Nor, under the circumstances that you suspect I believe a lie, should you neglect to attempt to tell me the truth … at least once."
"Ah."
"I won't promise that I'm a perfect listener," said Harry, "but it is my intent to learn the truth, even when it is nuanced."
Lucius nodded.
Harry sighed and stood up and away, ending the intimacy and intimidation of leaning over Lucius' desk. "Anything else that needs to be covered before you go home to your wife and I return to mine?"
Lucius blinked. "Backing up to my last question?"
Harry's eyes flicked back and forth, "Blackmail? No, I don't expect to see the need. Letting you keep your seat, is a different matter entirely, expect an answer by the end of the summer."
Lucius froze … four months. A short time for most people … a seemingly infinite amount of time for a student without the structure of classes to monopolise their time. The time frame might be meaningless, the real content of the message was that Lucius was not of the inner circle. And was on probation.
"Well," said Lucius, "Then I hope that you'll consult me before you choose one way or another, I may be of use more ways than you can imagine."
Harry smiled and nodded. "Fair enough. Anything else?"
Did the boy have places to go and people to see? Or did he come with the expectation of a short mission, and he'd fulfilled it already?
Lucius frowned, "Are you under the impression that bloodlines don't matter?"
The boy's eyes widened in surprise. After several seconds he replied, "I believe that they are irrelevant when calculating someone's moral worth. I believe that most innate talents if left wild and unchallenged, can be out-competed by carefully cultivated skills. This is not to say someone with innate talent who also carefully cultivates their skill, cannot out-compete both of the other cases."
Lucius frowned, then nodded, "that is largely true, if one calculates moral worth separately from power, either social or economic or political."
"I do so choose," said Harry.
"Fine," said Lucius. "As to practice out-competing talent, tell me when you find a skilled but untalented seer," and I'll take all your money, no, "and we'll make a few friendly wagers, perhaps one of us will amend our position."
Harry's eyes widened again, then he grinned, "that's an interesting point," he nodded, "touche."
They stared at each other. Seemingly equally amused at the conversation.
And then the moment passed.
"Go home," said Lucius. At the same moment, Harry said the same thing.
Lucius nodded and stood.
Harry bowed as appropriate for Lord to Lord.
Lucius bowed a bit lower than that.
"See you later, Uncle Lucius," said Harry, and he was gone.
Lucius pulled on his 'at the ministry, but not attending the Wizengamot' over-robes and made his way to the atrium to apparate home.
Which is where he was spotted by the crowd. Regent Longbottom was there and called him over. Anyone of lesser stature he might have ignored. He made his way over. The thing under the glass appeared to be the corpse of the Dark Lord. Complete with silver stakes through its heart and hippocampus. The Standard treatment for suspected necromancers. Of course, they should have tried that before, for all the good it would have done.
My lord Potter said he held the dark lord captive, not that he'd killed him.
A bloody axe lay alongside the corpse, to complete the display.
Not the weapon of choice for most mages, but perhaps significant if … that was Walden's axe, wasn't it.
"Well," said Lucius neutrally, "You don't see that every day."
"Is that all you have to say?" said Augusta nee Rosier.
"What more do you want me to say?"
Augusta raised an unimpressed eyebrow, "Perhaps something conciliatory about how my allies seem to be winning against your allies at the moment?"
Lucius stepped back as if greatly offended, "My dear," he said, "I fear you are greatly misinformed about who my allies are."
She looked properly bemused, not that much of it showed past her occlumency.
He waved around to include Augusta and himself, and the rest of the gawking crowd, "and it seems to me as if we are winning."
"Hmmh," she said and looked down her nose at him for several more seconds.
As was perhaps the right of a great aunt, or first cousin twice removed, almost the same thing, whatever.
"I hope your day is at least as excellent as mine," he said and turned towards the floos.
They were more politely dramatic than apparating on the spot. And today circumstances had dictated that he had an audience.
.
"Oh good, you're home," said Narcissa leaning over the bannister, then rushing down to him.
"I am," said Lucius, he held up his left wrist, "You orchestrated this?"
She looked at it, then frowned, "That was not my end goal," she said and embraced him, "This was my end goal."
Touche.
"Though I can see how that might in fact have been the most direct path to this." She hugged him harder.
And then they kissed.
.
"Anything I need to know about the negotiations?"
"Hmm?"
"With Harry?"
"We're not allowed to 'lie to Potter' without an audience to provide an excuse."
"Ah," she shrugged, "we can live with that."
"He may or may not report my mark later if he finds it expedient to have us out of the Wizengamot, though I can't imagine what he would gain by doing so."
"Would that take our seat or dissolve the House?" said Narcissa, "or force it all to pass to Draco early?"
"Ah," said Lucius, "good question, I … it's been a long time since I studied those books."
"It might behove us to know."
"Certainly," said Lucius, "I have a vague recollection that it is not a strict rule, but a widely varying precedent."
"Does that mean a target for bribes, or …"
"A legal registration of what Magic Herself has already chosen to enforce?"
"Yes, that."
"I think the latter, but perhaps that is merely wishful thinking."
She stepped back and stared into his eyes.
"I know, I know, far be it from me to wish for a problem immune to my money."
They both smirked.
"I know you, Luce, always searching for anchor points that cannot be washed away with mere money."
Lucius nodded, and glanced at his wrist, "So I am."
"Luce?"
He looked up.
"Don't make an enemy, proving what you already know about his immunity to money."
"Everyone has their price," said Lucius.
"True," she said, "but do you really think that his price can be denominated in mere money?"
"No," said Lucius, "You're right, we already know it is not." Though he might be chasing money for a few years until he has enough to feel secure, it will be a means for him, a shield, one of many shields. Not an end.
They shared another smile.
"We've both been up all night," said Narcissa, "Come to bed?"
Lucius nodded, "Four hours, and then a late lunch?"
"Sounds perfect," she said. She turned away and gave orders to her elf.
Then led the way to her rooms.
She did permit him to bathe first.
.
It was the most restful night's sleep he'd had in over a year. Even if technically it was only half a day's sleep.
...-...
Predicted but uninvited guests
[Notification as you requested, I just dumped someone by the lake.]
Oh, did you recognise them?
[It seemed a little bit like Sirius Black, but … if that was Sirius Black, he's had a lot of dementor exposure.]
Yes, he has. Can you … um bring him back from the lake? I'll go down to meet him.
[Certainly,]
If he behaves himself today, I'll be letting him visit whenever he wants, if not, … only when I'm here.
[Rule change understood, waiting for review.]
Harry went outside.
Sirius was just finishing puking up toast and eggs into the bushes.
Tonks was berating him for not waiting for her to come first and request Harry allow him permission to visit.
"Good morning everyone," said Harry.
"Good afternoon!" said Moody without missing a beat.
Sirius straightened, "Harry, you reprobate!"
"I still haven't bothered looking up what that word means," said Harry.
"What do they teach children in school these days?" Moody scoffed.
Tonks stuck her tongue out at him.
"So …" said Harry, "I thought Aurors called all times of day morning."
"Oh, we do," agreed Moody, "But we make it sound like we're masking for not getting any sleep for 4 days, not like we had a twelve-hour lie-in, and haven't checked a clock since."
"That's fair," said Harry, "and given that I've had four hours … and two proper meals, I'll try not to hold anything against any of you. How did the fight at the ministry go? By-the-by?"
"Humph," said Moody.
"More surface damage than structural damage," said Sirius, "More structural damage than personnel injuries. I think most of the vandalism was to the floo network, the pureblood registry office, and to the doors into the department of records and the department of mysteries."
"Did they get into the department of mysteries?"
"No."
"And …?"
"No, the department of records also was untouched, beyond the doors and the walls around them."
"Good," said Harry, "How soon will the floo network be back to 100%?"
"Not my problem," said Sirius, "But I think they've swapped in enough spares to get the major areas reconnected. It might be weeks before they finish going over everything to chase down any lingering outages."
"Good," said Harry, "So … that's a good chunk of my curiosity what do you all want to know?"
"You let the other five go?" said Moody.
Harry nodded, "I changed their thrall marks to my own and made them promise on their magic to not use unforgivables, and only use aggressive magic in self-defence. And told them they could pay me 5000 galleons if they wanted me to take my mark off them."
"What about that one werewolf?" said Moody.
"A better first question," said Harry, "is, why only one?"
"Alright," said Moody, "Why only one?"
"Because Fenrir executed all the others before bringing the remainder. He didn't kill her, for the same reason he gave her the white stone, because he knew she was a victim of circumstance, not a killer."
Moody frowned, "aren't we all victims of circumstance?"
Harry shrugged, "Her father brought her here when he moved in full-time as a prison guard. All three of them got marked, but she and her sister mostly lived with their wands drawn, in a cell within sight of their father's guard station."
"Merlin," said Sirius.
"I'm not clear whether it was Fenrir who bit her to give her an additional tool to protect her sister, or if one of his minions got out of hand in close quarters. Either way, Fenrir did what Fenrir does, and taught her to hunt and fight and follow orders."
"Ugh," said Tonks.
Harry shrugged, "Ginny hired both girls as housekeepers. At least for the summer. I have the vague feeling from how well they know their way around that they'd already been doing that kind of work."
Sirius looked at him sharply. Moody remained stoic.
Tonks rolled her eyes like he was stupid, instead of like he was eliding the obvious. So it goes. But the way she opened and closed her mouth twice before looking away implied that she wasn't going to remind him of the other possibilities.
Luna appeared next to him and caught at his clothes.
They renegotiated their balance then she stood away and bowed to him. Low enough for him to see a tattoo on the back of her head: two monkeys in a fractal yin-yang, which he vaguely recalled Padma describing months ago.
He wondered what they'd been doing when that formed there.
"My lord," she said when she'd straightened again, "my Padma ordered me to request to borrow your armour when I go with Margaid to see what is in the zoo."
Harry checked the wards, there were a number of dangerous, and unidentified things in the zoo, but they were almost all in neat rows so they were probably caged. And Nagini was waiting with Margaid. Which could mean several different things.
"Yes, that's fine," said Harry, "Are the others going with you?"
"They're going to pick through the dragon-hide armour that the death eaters left behind first."
"Ah, alright," said Harry.
Luna portkeyed away.
"So …," said Harry, "Is there a legend that starts with, 'an Isis, a Horus, and a Tiamat walk into an underworld.'? And if so how does it end?"
Tonks' mouth dropped open.
"Not that I know of," said Sirius, "But I'd be double-checking if you'd made all the proper sacrifices to Kali."
"Eh," said Harry, "I do my best. But maybe if she's in my basilisk armour, I should be donning dragon-hide instead? Just to be ready."
"I still say you're only 'A' quality," said Moody staring at Harry.
"Thank you," said Harry trying to maintain eye contact.
Tonks spun, "He's been earning O's in my class, one of the few."
Moody nodded without glancing at her, "He earned top of his class when I taught him also."
Sirius chuckled.
What is this a staring contest? You're not using legilimency.
Moody shrugged, then chuckled. Keeping his gaze on Harry. After several seconds he shrugged again, "Nah, make it a P," said Moody, "But he's been lucky."
Sirius shuddered, "What?"
"You ever figure out where your axe wielder went?"
"I have a theory I'm working from, don't know if it's right, but I'm confident enough to be getting on with."
"Did you change the password?"
Harry blinked, Wotcher, how many incoming floos are in my Manor?
[Three.]
Where are they?
[The floor plan, with highlights.]
Do they all have passwords?
[Yes]
Did Moody get close enough to Margaid's floo to change the password?
[Yes, the password is now, 'You're a dead troll.']
Of course, it is. Set a reminder to Margaid, next time she's in her room, to set her floo password to something new, and verify Auror Moody hasn't bothered anything else of hers while he was in there. And change the infirmary floo password also if she doesn't mind. Maybe something about a wet troll.
[Reminder set.]
"I haven't," said Harry, "but see if Sirius wants to try infiltrating by that route. Or if he's had enough of lake scenery for a while."
Moody tilted his head, then nodded, "fair enough. But I still think you're making a mistake relying on one set of wards when there's a reason for two, and you already have both available."
Harry nodded, "Point taken," He glanced at Sirius, "Are you in the mood for swimming, or do you want an escorted tour?"
"I can stand some water," said Sirius, "it's the back-to-back portkeys that did me in."
"Yeah, sorry about that," said Harry.
"No, I mean, I seriously could use a drink," said Sirius.
"Ah! Right," said Harry leading them up onto the veranda, "Side door then, goes directly to the kitchen."
Everyone acquiesced.
Harry led the way but stopped a few meters short of the kitchen door. He turned back to stare at Sirius, "Your preparations possibly saved about 4 lives last night."
"What?" said Sirius.
Harry shrugged, "But new regimes come to power and loopholes get closed."
"What are you talking about?"
Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. In front of two Aurors, Marauder's honour. Except that Moody could probably see all of it, and Tonks had a nice sense of humour.
Harry sighed, and turned to Moody, "Can that eye of yours read inside out or backwards or whatever?"
"It can," said Moody.
Harry motioned at where the slate should be, "Care to tell the old dog what he doesn't even know he wants to know."
Moody glanced at Sirius, then smirked, "Hider and Holder's mischief portal."
Harry was expecting to hear a click as the wards relaxed. But there was none, the door was too well sealed for that all on its own. But he did feel it in the wards.
He pushed the door open far enough that when he let it close again it would lock. Then pushed it again to show that it was locked.
Sirius nodded, " 'Hider and Holder,' is it?" he said, "well done."
"I'll tell them you said so," agreed Harry. And led them farther down the veranda and inside.
He served them all water, he offered apple cider and tea. But they were content with water. He didn't know enough about wine to feel comfortable offering any of that.
"Say … can I have my old room back?" said Sirius.
"The House of Potter would be ashamed not to allocate guest rooms for visiting allies," said Harry, "However … I have no idea if whatever room you had before is available or not. Wotcher? Do you remember where was Sirius Black's room?"
[A map with a room highlighted: One of the rooms of the three-room suite in the family wing.]
Where was my father's room?
[Five rooms were highlighted, each a different colour. One of which was another room in the same suite.]
All at once?
[The five highlighted rooms also got ranges of numbers.]
Oh. Ages, fine.
"It's marked as not in use, but You-know-who had that entire wing sealed off with a Parseltongue password," said Harry, "I don't know if it's untouched, or if it's been converted into a workshop of some kind."
Sirius shuddered.
"Was anything of yours in there?" said Harry.
Sirius shook his head, "I moved out after Hogwarts. I was an 'up and coming rascal, with a motorbike and a flat in the city.' Don't you know?"
Harry yawned.
"How about you, Harry?" said Sirius, "what are you going to do after Hogwarts?"
Harry shrugged, "immediately after, or end goal?"
"No, I mean, what does your dream home, at 21 look like?"
"Well," said Harry, "Hogwarts was the first place I tried to call home, back before I knew what a home should be. I think I could really really get to like my manor, once I update the wards in a few places, and add a few more secret passages."
Sirius smiled wryly, "And since then?"
"In order?" said Harry, "The Weasleys between my first and second year at Hogwarts, I stayed at the Leaky Cauldron between second and third, but that wasn't home, having Nim and Hedwig to look after and to look after me but no one to tell me what to do except the Minister … home isn't the right word."
"That's called freedom or independence," said Sirius, "classically represented by 'your own flat in the city,' or 'more money than you can spend in a lifetime,' whichever."
Harry shrugged, "fair enough."
"And I lived at the Granger's between third and fourth, and last year the Delacours and the Tonks."
Sirius nodded.
"More pictures of care given and received, and teamwork, and … but unlike the Dursleys and the Weasleys there was … or maybe this does include the Weasleys after a fashion: A gradual progression of respect, that I could handle more and more Independence."
Sirius nodded.
"I should invite the Delacours over," said Harry, "not that I have anything they need, but it might be polite to return the invitation."
Sirius gave him an odd look.
"What?" said Harry.
"All of the Delacours?" said Tonks.
Harry blinked, "I have no idea how many there are, I've only met the four of them."
Sirius shrugged, "we can discuss it later."
"And perhaps I don't really want to invite them over at a particular date, just inform them that Potter Manor is again receiving guests, in case they need a home-away-from-home in the UK for a diplomatic conference or whatever they might need."
"Ah," Sirius hummed for several seconds, "Yes, I see."
He turned to Tonks, "Tonks, I hope you know you're welcome to visit also."
She smiled. Her hair went browner… except the blond highlights tinted green, maybe all of it tinted green but against the pink parts it wasn't exactly visible.
Harry yawned and saw that his guests had all finished their water.
"Where too next?" said Harry, standing up.
Sirius glanced toward the pantry.
"Where's everyone else?" said Tonks.
"Third floor, What's a fashion show called when it's armour."
"An armour fitting?" said Tonks.
"Close enough," said Harry.
"Well Sirius, I suppose you'll want to mark your territory," he nodded toward the pantry, "You can catch up to us on third."
Sirius smirked, "don't mind if I do, thanks."
.
"Company," called Harry, knocking on the door frame of that … well it wasn't a hallway, and it wasn't currently a sitting room, though it easily could become that. His mind insisted that it was a conference room or a lounge, but that was partly because he kept thinking of the third floor as a private little hotel.
"We're decent," called Parvati.
Padma was in duelling kit, though it had folds and pleats in unusual places, probably she was cinching it too tight, because of course shrinking charms wouldn't work properly on dragon-hide. Harry wouldn't tell her that was wrong, he'd wait for everyone to pick out what they wanted, then take them all to 'Leathers: Superior and Beastly' and get them re-sized. Or maybe just buy a heavy enough punch for dragon-hide and do it himself.
Ginny was in … an imitation of a hit wizard's under-robes. Not the British style, Harry was leaning towards guessing Danish style, but he couldn't identify why he thought so. Had he overheard Durmstrang students discussing armour? Had Rebekah given a lecture about armour in AHDT? No. Maybe, but not Rebekah.
It fit her fairly well, other than for being made for a man. If Parvati could … Where was Parvati? two minutes ago Wotcher said she was just up here.
"Looking good," said Harry, "Where's Parvati?"
They looked around, "Nim! What did you do?" said Padma.
That was a very strange and awkward attempt to pass the blame.
Nim puffed out her chest and turned Human again. "We were practising," said Bellatrix, "Then she suddenly stops getting ready for me to throw, and instead sidesteps and turns away, and said, 'what unicorn?' and 'Circe' then vanished. Portkeyed away I think."
Oh is that all, "Wotcher, Where did Parvati go?"
[…] [She's in the kitchen washing star-shine from several strips of golden fleece. Do you want me to tell her that sunlight will melt away star-shine faster than water can?]
"Ugh," said Ginny, "not in my kitchen." Then she seemed to hear herself, and sighed and rolled her eyes.
"I'll tell her, thanks," said Harry, "Wotcher?" if you'll put me near her, please.
.
Parvati was in an unmatched set: hit-wizard trousers, and a duelling harness, which … might be more revealing than was really practical. Or it was just too big and hung lower on her than was ideal.
The colours did work together though.
"Parvati?"
She turned around, grinning, "Look it?" she exclaimed and brandished something yellow, sopping wet, and glittering at him. A few drops fell on his face and arms, and his world went ODD.
Much, much too odd for getting along with. This required … careful investigation.
Don't move, just observe and think: what am I seeing, what am I feeling, what am I smelling, what am I tasting?
I still have magic, but it's not how I expect. Not in my natural form or any of the other shapes I've tried. He could see too much, but trying to focus on any of it made him dizzy and tense. For some reason I'm standing on fingertips and toe tips and … I smell Parvati and dragon and dead … mossy snail, I'm tasting … I'm tasting a mouth that's never been used before. My tongue and teeth are weird shapes, and only slightly familiar. Or else there is just a tongue and teeth. My face is not in a reasonable shape.
Parvati's eyes were wide and … she was exclaiming ape noises at him. Great, just my luck, this kind of animal transfiguration gave me no instincts to go with it.
Or no, … the instincts were there, loud and clear, or at least the foundational instincts were, but several layers of instincts about processing everything were missing.
I want to move, and I don't yet have any muscle memory, if I try to tense or relax I am going to fall on my face.
I'm already getting too tense, so really it's just a matter of time before I cramp and fall anyway. Might as well do the gryffindor thing, and get it over with by relaxing something and seeing what moves. Maybe try to take it easy. Try not to hit my head or Ginny's furniture on the way down.
He collapsed. He managed to not land on his head, mostly by choosing which rear leg he let give way first.
Falling still hurt a lot.
His whimper came out all weird.
He lay still for a moment and verified that it felt like the only injuries were bruising of his rump, shoulder, and pride. He wiggled each limb. Then found his neck, and the rest of his spine, and Oh, I have a tail.
He turned his head to look at his feet with one eye, (because he couldn't get two eyes over there.)
From the fact that his feet had a single hoof each, he theorised he was currently a horse, or something similar enough to be going along with.
When he started feeling confident that he could predict the motions of his limbs before he moved them he started to relax.
There was an ape kneeling beside him, hugging his neck. By her smell, she was Parvati, even if she had chosen to cocoon in lizard skin … and cry. Probably she had helped hold his head up while he made his observations.
"I'm alright now," he tried to say. His mouth and nose and throat made stupid and nonsensical noises. Damn, whatever.
He tried to induce the reflex that should prusten. A completely different noise came out. Parvati tensed. Then let go and scrambled away.
Without her support, Harry's head drooped a little, but he counteracted the fall and then rebuilt an equilibrium. And then adjusted that equilibrium until he had an eye on her.
She got far enough away that he could put two eyes on her. And then she turned recognisable.
[Are you alright?] she said, though a large fraction of the information seemed to have been in the motion as well as the sound.
He stared at her, where had that meaning been interpreted, and can I use it to speak?
He tried to shrug.
She laughed at him. But it was a nervous laugh.
[Harry, are you really … still in there?]
He nodded.
[Oh, good, I thought I might have … destroyed you. But … That wasn't a seizure, was it? That was you doing newborn colt … learning exercises, really really fast?]
He nodded again.
[Alright, I … I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to do this to you. I was trying to show you that I had a … a harness to wear while I'm a horse. It's supposed to be usable by something horse shape, maybe I can learn to use it while I'm horse shaped.]
...-...
Parvati's very successful bad day
Parvati's day had started out so well, they'd vanquished and killed all of Harry's enemies, except a very very few.
Those that Harry and Padma deemed worth saving. And then they'd had lots of celebrating-we-survived sex. She awoke from a good night's sleep, with plenty of celebrating-we-have-a-new-house sex planned.
Except then Harry said he'd kept Voldemort alive, as a slave and an adviser.
Why?
She'd thought of all sorts of accusations and arguments against it, but then she realised: he'd given a mark, and for Harry that as good as meant an oath to protect the monster, and as a co-ruler of the same mark, she … sort of had to help with that protection, though it came with the benefit of having access to all his —or was it her? — Knowledge.
They'd cleaned out and cleaned up. Which was a lot of work, but it was sort of a more intimate way to get to know a house than to just tour through it once.
And then Harry admitted he was aware of just how capable she was, but somehow he didn't follow it up with instructions about what else he wanted her to add to her schedule.
What was that about?
Was it really a compliment, rather than the first half of a compliment-critique-compliment sandwich?
Anyway, It was surreal.
And then Ginny served lunch. Which was fine.
Then … something happened to set him off and he managed to fit both feet and his tail in his mouth, at the same time. Figuratively of course.
And then celebratory sex with Ginny. Except she insisted on it not just being sex, but an exploration date too.
Which was kind of a cute thing for her to want, and awesome in an awkward sort of way. Except Voldemort interrupted and acted … like a rental real estate agent/concierge servant/adviser while also affecting ravenclaw-style rudeness. It was awkward.
But eventually, she left, and Ginny and she managed to rescue their date. Including some carefree sexy time.
Something they really hadn't done enough of at school. What between Parvati's mostly full schedule, and Ginny being invited to satisfy herself elsewhere by Susan and Luna, not just with Harry.
Parvati had the feeling that in the summer months, Luna would find a lot more to do outside, and leave Ginny alone within Parvati's reach. Or was that … leave Ginny alone where Parvati would be within her reach?
Whatever.
And Susan might be around a lot less.
Which should also mean more Harry for her, and for Padma.
Padma and Harry really needed to get their relationship synchronised, before Padma decided that she might as well go home and insist that all Harry could do about it was pay for better wards for Mum and Da's warehouse.
.
And then Ginny and Padma had accidentally proposed a clothes-shopping date for armour. Except the armour was free, which meant Ginny wouldn't need to be tense or stupidly extravagant about money.
Except then she invited Bellatrix to advise.
Which … was sensible really, but sort of cut down on the date atmosphere.
Except then Ginny noticed (rather intuitive, Ginny was … desirable wife material), and she sort of apologised. Which didn't help Parvati's mood. But it did clue Bellatrix in.
And Bellatrix … started flirting.
It turned out Parvati wasn't the lone sword enthusiast in this group after all.
And maybe there could be interesting and educational exercises to do all summer.
.
And then Wotcher interrupted.
[Parvati, Luna invites you to 'come and kill something huge with that sword.']
Oh, dear. Is she in danger?
[Not yet. It's mostly still stuck in its cage]
Fine, Take me to her.
And then she was in a dungeon, a different one than they'd stashed the prisoners in. This one was more brightly lit than the other, but less than the room she'd just left. Voldemort and Luna were there. Staring at an amoeba the size of a garbage truck. 'Mostly still stuck in its cage' seemed an accurate description. It had reached between the bars of its cage across a walkway and into the neighbouring cage. Where it was trying to engulf a unicorn. Which seemed to be despairing, (Its fellow, though was attacking with hoof and horn in desperate rage). It must be a very very strong amoeba to be withstanding that much effort by its prey.
European unicorns were by no means small or weak creatures, even if they weren't as overwhelmingly large as the African variety.
Whenever the ongoing struggle pressed the amoeba against the bars, it hissed and recoiled. Which probably explained why it hadn't just completely seeped out of its own cage. The bars hurt, and it wasn't really smart enough to think of seeping between just one set of bars.
But what kind of idiot must it be to attack a unicorn?
Blunt, painted iron hurts it a little, shall we see what a silvered sword does?
That was probably exactly what Luna had thought when she'd asked for Parvati's help.
Parvati raised her sword again and stepped past Luna, thinking to attack the vulnerable neck between the horse's body and its reaching mouth.
What?
The damn amoeba thing could project into Parvati's mind any size or shape it wanted, and … it wasn't really a horse, that was just the prettiest thing it could pull from Parvati's mind.
Probably like a boggart, only instead of choosing something frightening to drive her away, it chose something desirable to lure her in.
And in any other circumstance, Parvati would definitely be lured in by a reflection of her animagus form.
—Except male.
Ignore the illusion, Parvati, just be brave and attack. Free the unicorn, and save the other unicorn. (Why had Voldemort thought having caged unicorns was a good idea?)
Or for that matter, whatever this thing was.
Parvati brought her sword down. She let her training take over, wrenching the sword free and giving it a full circle to bring it down again full force.
The head came off and settled to the floor, in a hissing slowness more reminiscent of a deflating airbag than of a severed horse head dropping to the floor. Though the fluid flowing from it was neither air, nor blood, but a transparent ichor that perhaps had more magic than water in it.
The image of the horse reformed, and again it reached out its head, this time between a different set of bars, focused on Parvati. Would it attack right away, or try again to lure her in first?
Parvati gave only a little ground, to let more of the head form.
Then she swung a circle for momentum, dodged around beside the new horse head, and sliced off that one as well.
She retreated again and glanced back at the previous head, it was no longer trying to project the head of a horse, it was just a mass of dead jellyfish or whatever it was. The unicorn had pulled free and was cowering nervously on the far side of its cage.
She turned again to the living part of the creature.
It tried the disguised horse head trick again.
And then it tried a new tactic.
—Harry Potter.
"No, you don't!" Parvati lunged forward in rage. Thrusting deep between the bars. Even though this sword wasn't meant for thrusting.
Except it wasn't the normal sword that Parvati was used to, it was a European cavalry sword. And she wasn't thrusting into armoured human flesh, (complete with internal skeleton)
She was thrusting into an amorphous blob of magical flesh that was still reeling from two amputations.
—And was hemmed in on all sides by sturdy iron bars.
The illusion shrank in on itself. Almost as if Parvati's attack really had hurt Harry.
Why did I accept a sword from Bellatrix? Why didn't I reject the flirting, reject Bellatrix, reject her hard enough to encourage no more flirting in the future? Except I do want the sword training, someday. If nothing else, at least for exercise over the summer.
Except then the shrinking effect continued long after it stopped being a realistic illusion of Harry.
The cage was empty.
Which couldn't be right. If she'd killed it there would be more pieces of jellyfish and tons of jellyfish ichor.
She backed up, chose another opening between the bars and thrust again.
As she drove in the sword, It projected Harry's annoyed face around her blade.
It was a rather jarring and unfair tactic. But rather than make Parvati flinch, it mostly just made her more enraged.
This time she didn't stop at the bars but chose to step in farther, pushing her blade as deep as her hand could reach.
She knew it was dangerous. Knew that if she'd done that with her bare hand the amoeba might just let it in, then hold on and start digesting her. But she had the feeling that directly after a slice from the silvered sword, its internal chemistry would be reeling too badly to make such a counterattack. She felt the flesh and fluid closing around her arm, but there seemed to be more convulsions of pain than active gripping of her arm. She twisted her sword to make sure it wouldn't be held in by suction. She felt something solid brush her wrist. She tried to pull free. Her arm slid out about as easily as she expected, but something seemed to be gripping her sword. She pulled harder, bracing her knee against the side of the cage.
She tore free, sword and all, and a golden ropy substance snagged between what this sword had for a pommel and her wrist. What was the golden thing? Some kind of internal organ?
The monster had been convulsing worse ever since she'd started yanking it out. She backed away, yanking the rest of it free.
"The golden harness is supposed to be a kelpie's wand," explained Voldemort helpfully, "now it won't be able to heal so fast."
This monster is a kelpie?
That matched enticing the unwary with images of beautiful animals and sexual ideals.
But wasn't Stormy a kelpie?
But she'd been raised and 'civilised,' first by selkies, then humans, then werewolves.
This one was merely stupid enough to try to eat unicorns, and big enough that it might have succeeded if no one had intervened.
Now it was bleeding out, though it tried to maintain its illusion of invisibility. The combined effect was a pair of viscus waterfalls flowing from midair.
"What did it look like to you?" asked Parvati, "When I wasn't here I mean."
"Like a Kelpie," said Luna.
"Like a small black basilisk wearing a golden bridle," said Voldemort, "except to my knowledge, basilisks don't come in black."
"Like my uncle," said Grandma, "only not crazy, and younger than I ever saw him. But it couldn't talk. Just smile almost intelligently, and laugh uncle's deep belly laugh."
"I've seen it trying to imitate each of its neighbours," said Voldemort, "I was feeding it tinned cat food, the only non-living thing it would touch. And it was provocatively reluctant about eating that. It wasn't growing. I don't know what happened."
"Does anyone mind if I kill it?"
"Please," said Luna.
"I think you've already killed it," said Voldemort, "But no, I don't have a problem with you putting it out of its misery faster."
"Luna, could you stand closer so I can see its amoeba form?"
"Sure," said Luna.
She stepped forward, the view shifted from nothing to translucent. It still shivered and convulsed, and winced away from the damage that Parvati had inflicted.
Parvati circled to another side of the cage, then advanced again, plunging her sword as deep as she could reach, through Harry's naked chest. Luckily there were no ribs to lend the slightest modicum of reality to the illusion. Another twist and another wrench free.
That time it reacted the same as the first thrust. Not at all as it had when she'd pulled the golden rope free.
She backed up again, leaving it only Luna to focus on.
Luna, beautiful wondrous Luna, for whom the most enticing image it could reveal was reality itself.
It was noticeably smaller and deflating faster.
Parvati circled again and stabbed again. This time into Harry's stomach, barely not covered by the first underthing he'd made for himself when 'Leona sized' only this one was even shorter, more like a sports bra really. This time it tried to project an image of blood and spilling entrails. But with all this practice Parvati was almost proof against the illusion and concentrated instead on the fact that her thrust and the wilting flesh around her arm extended as far as she could reach, rather than ending again in open air eight or nine inches beyond the surface of Harry's lovely stomach.
Parvati retreated. The preferred illusion took much longer to reform into the amoeba. When it did, Parvati circled to the last side of the cage where it still lay close to the bars. And advanced for what hopefully might be the final time. It had shrunk rather a lot.
She crouched and drove her sword in again. Through black horse hair, and just behind the floating ribs deep into the abdomen, the illusion of entrails again, but this time Parvati couldn't rely on 'reaching out the other side of the illusion,' and being able to feel that the amoeba still existed on the other side.
Parvati looked away from the carnage, expecting to see Lightfeet's head and mane reflected back.
But instead, it was Ginny's mane and face, screwed up in an expression not of pain, but of pleading, horny hunger.
No!
Parvati wrenched her head the other way, a pathetic flap of too-small wings. And Mantis collapsed away from her leaving watery entrails and viscera coating her arm and trailing from her blade.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny," she whispered, then raised her arm and brought it down again. Slicing through her flesh and bone in a way that was probably impossible, even with a blade that was enchanted sharp.
Again, and again, and again, punishment for drawing images from her mind and forcing her to defile them.
Finally, she had the sense to close her eyes. It didn't hide the images, but seeing images while she could feel her eyes were closed provided another layer of proof of their unreality.
And she kept hacking until she felt the ringing shock of hitting the stone floor instead of jelly-like flesh.
She opened her eyes. There was no more monster, only a puddle of goo.
And no illusion of mammal gore coating her arm, only the real gore of transparent monster ichor, which Parvati realised wasn't just on her arm. In fact, she could smell and taste that it was sour, like oranges, behind the sour wasn't the sweetness of oranges, but just … muddy … lake water.
She pulled her arm free and stared around at her audience, Grandma, Voldemort, and Luna. Why did Luna have to see that?
And two unicorns. And farther away a variegated assortment of other things.
Parvati wasn't really ready to face all that. No one was acting like there was any danger here except Parvati.
"May I stop now?" said Parvati.
"Yes," said Luna, "Thank you."
"Go clean up," said Grandmum, "and remember that dragon skin doesn't mind being washed. You might find it easier to climb in the shower and wash both your skins at once, rather than one at a time."
"Alright," said Parvati.
Voldemort picked up the golden rope, the only thing that hadn't disintegrated. She held it out, "your new secondary foci. Won in combat rather than by trickery and persuasion. May it serve you well."
"Oh," said Parvati. She accepted it. It certainly felt magical and connected to … or at least, conductive of her own magic. "Thanks." It felt more soft and flexible than any rope. It didn't feel like the precision tool that a wand was: connecting to the magic in Parvati's hand and will.
It connected somewhere deeper, and it wanted to be worn around her neck and ears. Maybe like a bridle, maybe like the trim and sweatband of a witch's hat. Maybe a witch's hat with a chin strap?
The creature that had used it before hadn't seemed very smart, perhaps didn't have the right kind of mind for magic to attach to its will. Totally a creature of instinct and desires, it could read minds, but the most it could decipher were images of desirable things. To be fair it had also managed to interpret hints towards the methods that Parvati had used to disbelieve those images.
She made her way upstairs. Vaguely aware of the caged creatures she passed between. More aware of the evaporating ichor coating her arm and face, and the ropy wand that trailed from her left hand.
She went upstairs and to the nearest sink, she rinsed the sword. And put it aside, she rinsed her hands and her sleeve and they came clean, she rinsed the hairy golden rope and the goop all turned to stiff jelly, like semen permitted to dry for too long.
It wasn't sticky, just not very fast at dissolving.
Maybe the creature's clotting factor responded to water instead of air. Did that clotting factor require the magic of the rope wand to function, or merely the velvety fibres to attach to?
It might have been relatively invincible if she'd had to fight it in water.
Parvati shivered.
"Parvati?"
Parvati spun around.
It was Harry, very much alive and not decorated with blood or gore or anything. And wearing a sensible expression, not an expression of mindless attentiveness or mindless desire. At least it wasn't Ginny.
What was he doing here already? Can he see me? See that I just killed him three times, myself twice, and Ginny once?
I did it to help Luna. Not to 'save her' precisely, but to help her save a unicorn. He'd understand that part at least.
Or had the others already told him everything?
Would he understand that it had only been illusions? Of course, he would. But would he be able to understand that when it sifted her mind for enticing images it had found him? Maybe, eventually. Would he really understand how hard it had been to fight anyway?
Probably not. Maybe better if he didn't understand. Better if he never tried to explain it to Ginny.
"Look!" she held out her new wand. Non-wand magical foci, same difference.
And Harry turned into a very very delectable Frisian stallion.
A state of being which was completely incapable of questioning her on what she'd been doing with the sword that his pet had given her.
She shuddered.
She hadn't meant to do that. Or not in the normal way …
It hadn't felt like casting a spell.
It had felt like accidental magic.
She dropped the golden bridle.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, "Merlin, I hope that's not permanent."
Why did I have to pick up that sword? Why did the first living thing I faced, have to be one that used personalised illusions for camouflage?
.
He stared at her, nostrils flaring. For a second she thought it was anger, but maybe it was only fear. And then he fell over and started having a seizure. She ran around behind him and caught his head. Without help, she couldn't keep him from biting his tongue or laming himself, but she could keep him from giving himself a concussion.
This is why witches of legend turned people either into rats or newts, too small to hurt themselves falling; or turned them into huge impervious rage monsters, too impervious to damage themselves, and if both could be kept in warded stone dungeons, or out-of-doors where they couldn't hurt anything else, so much the better.
"I'm so sorry," she said again. Wotcher, can you get the others to come help?
His convulsions slowed drastically and he looked around. His limbs still waving and wiggling, but more deliberately now. One-by-one. Less like brain damage, and more like learning to play a musical instrument.
He put his feet down, rolled over a little and snorted contentment.
"Harry?" she said.
He tried to look at her. He didn't know what to do with his head to get his eyes aimed where he wanted them.
She put his head down and backed away.
He turned his head to get both his eyes on her. He tried harder to roll right-side up.
.
She took off her dragon hide and changed into Lightfeet. He perked up.
[Are you alright?]
He shrugged. Like he meant it.
Oh thank god, she laughed nervously. Are you still Harry?
He nodded.
It wasn't a horse gesture it was a human gesture.
Not as good as she hoped, but better than she'd expected less than a minute before.
Good, I was afraid I'd hurt you. Then I saw you fall and shake. But that wasn't uncontrolled, was it? You were learning like a baby only really fast?
He nodded again.
Stay here, and keep practising, I'm going to go get second opinions on how to reverse this.
He nodded again. She turned human and started to dress.
He rolled over to keep his face to himself. As if she minded, except she was a mess of transparent ichor, and she kind of did mind.
Except he was human again.
"What!" said Parvati.
He sat up and looked, "This, I think," he said, "It felt like it stripped the spell out of me. Out of my magic."
He was grasping the leg of an old kitchen appliance.
Cast iron.
"Do you think that it is enchanted to have that effect, or do you think that it is an inherent property of cast iron?"
Harry shrugged, "is that fay magic?" he gave a tiny wave toward the golden rope.
She shrugged, "How would I know, I got it less than half an hour ago, but the creature that died and left it behind definitely didn't like to touch iron."
"What kind of creature?"
"Kelpie," she said.
"Stormy?"
"Like Stormy," said Parvati, "only lots bigger, and trying to seep out of its cage to catch and eat a unicorn in the next cage. Mostly it only stayed in its cage where I could kill it so easily because it was too stupid to figure out the pack-rat monkey trap."
Harry performed the socially expected wince at the mention of violence against unicorns, "What's a pack-rat monkey trap?"
Parvati contemplated the long explanation her father had given her about 'delayed gratification,' and that it seemed to be a mostly human-only instinct, though somewhat unevenly distributed, even among humans. The instinct that let people not only escape from monkey traps easily, but also save up for winter, and scatter edible seeds because 'the harvest would be better that way,' and sacrifice to gods because 'the harvest would be better that way,' and investing for the future, and hundreds of other kinds of 'visualising desired outcomes' so well as to create and maintain the motivation to do the required steps to get there.
She didn't really want to bog down her confessions with a sermon about savings, and he might assume she was repeating herself about budgets, or about religion, or about hope, or delusions. No, better to give the shortest possible summary and move on.
"If you find an amazing shiny, but it's stuck in a narrow neck jar. Can you let go of it, in order to regain the freedom of your hand?"
"Ah," Harry nodded, "And it wouldn't let go, so you …"
"I killed it," said Parvati, "it winced away from touching iron, like a burn, but it started dissolving from being cut with a silver-plated sword."
She motioned toward where she'd left the sword. Harry stood and examined it.
"That's really nice rune work," he said.
"Thanks," she said, "Bellatrix mentioned your sword lessons, I mentioned mine. She found it among the loot and convinced me to take it out of its scabbard before I rejected it. It was kind of a heavy scabbard and had tricked me regarding its balance."
"Oh," said Harry, "you … are learning single-edged sword?"
"Yeah," said Parvati, "wait a second."
She picked up the sword and held it over the sink, blade side down, then picked up the golden rope and dragged it across the back of the blade. That turned the ichor liquid again.
"Something tells me that sunlight might help that evaporate," he said.
Parvati gave him a curious glance, then stepped outside, and down out of the shadow of the veranda roof. Sure enough, the ichor steamed away, it took less than twenty seconds for the golden rope to finish drying. Now soft like suede with a sparse outer layer of guard hairs.
If it was going to be that easy, She removed her armour and exposed the inner edges of the cuffs to the sunlight, also all the herb-encrusted snot-like residue where her underthing had tried to purify away the ichor. Except it could only affect salt and water. That also flaked away under direct sunlight, though it went much faster if she scratched the herbs out of the way so the sunlight could be that much more direct.
When she was satisfied that she was clean she re-dressed and returned inside.
Her sword was gone and so was Harry.
She checked with Wotcher. She returned to the third floor where Harry and Bellatrix were picking through the swords.
Harry had sheathed her sword. As soon as he saw her, he crossed to her and knelt and held it out, "Parvati Black, Your sword."
She took it. He hadn't just sheathed it, he'd found a belt to go with it.
"What's your point?"
Harry shrugged and stood, "In some cultures," he said, "taking weapons from a battlefield isn't stealing or looting. In several of the cultures which made contributions to what is now the British way of life: winning your first battle with a weapon entitles you to name it."
"Oh," she said, "So … Image Breaker, or Unicorn's Revenge or something? Does it matter what I call her?"
Harry smiled and shrugged, "I don't know much more than what I just said. But … keep in mind that … muggles look down on swords one way, and mages a different way. But that doesn't make them useless. And anyway you're not training with them to the exclusion of other techniques."
Parvati shrugged.
"Oh," said Harry turning to Lord Black, "The punch line goes something like: 'so the Qingu turns to the Artemis, and says, do you have your Athena handy, I'm afraid my kelpie is trying to eat your unicorn.'"
"Not the same Kelpie from last night?" asked Moody.
"No," said Parvati, "I'm not even certain they were the same kind of thing. For one thing, Stormy can talk and have goals more complex than eating, goals like making friends or helping those friends. All this one wanted to do was lure you in with enticing images and eat."
"Did you try removing its tack?" said Padma.
Parvati pulled the cord from where she'd draped it around her neck so she could dress, "not that it let me at it until it was mostly dead already, anyway be careful … it can drastically facilitate accidental magic."
"Nice," said Padma but flinched back from taking it.
When Parvati kept holding it out, Padma donned dragon-hide gloves before accepting it to examine up close.
.
Not long after, Harry convinced the guests to assist with what none of the rest of them could do: go down to the dungeons, and identify the dead prisoners and return them to their families.
.
It wasn't much longer before armour selections were finalised, (best two favourite suits of armour for each, and a sword for those who wanted lessons.)
.
...-...
{End Chapter 34}