Disclaimer: Check first chapter for full disclaimer and other warnings.

Chapter 27 – New beginnings

The school was in upheaval. The day before, two students had been witnessed falling from the roof. The school janitor, one of the few witnesses that had been in the line of sight of the whole fall because he was cleaning outside, had also reported that the two students had disappeared into thin air and that one of them had wings like an angel. His tale, however, had been dismissed because of his known drinking habits, even if he had been being sober at that moment. The teachers and the other officials on site hadn't found any corpse, though, and they had taken the roll of the whole school, before closing it for investigation. They had found the small note on the roof, under a pebble, and had judged it noteworthy to categorize the fall as a suicide. Without a body, though, they were hard-pressed to name the fallen. Even with the description given by most of the witnesses, they could only take a guess between the dozen-or-so students deemed absent after the happenstance that day.

Joan was seething. She was at her place with Kevin and Jason, and they had had no news of Gabriel and Tamara. She had suspected something happening to those two, and the school closing because of the double-suicide-without-corpse prevented her to investigate herself. When she had heard that the investigation found a note, she had proposed her help to remove Tamara and Gabriel from the list of the possible victims. After being dismissed by the policemen guarding the school, she had gone back home with her friends, cursing the whole way, unaware of the stares that people threw her way.

There, they had waited, and waited. To try to ease the waiting, Kevin proposed to play a game, but was rewarded by a dark glance from Joan and a mute refusal from Jason. To Kevin's disappointment, Jason then proposed to read a book, and Joan went in her room to fetch some books that could be read lightly. Once there, she saw the wood planks propped against her full bookcase, and remembered that Gabriel had proposed to build her some larger shelves to hold her books and other things. Tears began to fall softly from her eyes, and she moved the four planks outside of her room, in order to access her books. She also moved the ironing table which was inconveniently placed in the middle of her room, before taking a pile of books, comics, and other reading material, and heading down to her two waiting friends.

So they read. For two hours. Around midday, the phone rang noisily, eliciting a yelp from Joan and making Kevin fall from his unstable position on the armchair's armrest. Jason stood up and answered it, Joan still being nervous and Kevin soothing her. After all, Jason was always the calm and collected one of the lot.

"Freyrs' residence, what can I do for you?"

"What are you doing there, Jason?" asked a young teenager's voice from the other end.

"TAM?"

The shout brought the other two to the telephone and they started to ask questions frantically, before registering Jason's annoyed gaze. After they calmed, he took the receiver again.

"Tam, can you meet us here or do you want us to come?"

Through the speaker, they heard the sound of a heated discussion between Tamara and a male voice they suspected of being her father's. After a few minutes, she spoke to the phone again.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

The line clicked empty. The three teenagers looked at themselves uneasily. If they had heard correctly, Tamara's father wanted to move away with her. Why would he want to do that when they knew, through Tamara, that he was successful in his local business?

They waited again. And waited yet again. Fifteen minutes is a long time when you have only unanswerable questions in your mind.

When the doorbell rang, Kevin and Joan threw themselves at the door, and managed, through a scramble, to open it. Behind, an amused Tamara looked at them, before being squeezed in a bear hug by two of her friends. Jason, always calm, looked at her amusingly from the doorway, and shrugged at the others' antics.

After being released, able to breathe again, he hugged her, more gently this time, and they all entered. After a little small talk about her current health condition, Kevin asked her the unavoidable question.

"So, Tam. Enough chit-chat. What happened?"

She looked uneasily around, then at Joan.

"Is your dad home?"

Joan didn't understand why she asked this, but answered anyway. "No. Not for a few hours."

Tamara seemed to relax, if only a little. "I need a drink, before continuing."

When Joan rose and went to fetch a soda from the fridge, Tamara looked at her pointedly. Not wholly understanding her glance, Joan brought the bottle and four glasses.

"Joan?"

"Yes?"

Her next sentence floored them. "I need a drink. I know your father has some Laphroaig..."

Joan looked at her, astonished. Everyone looked at her. Unbeknownst to them, a fire elemental could drink any alcohol without feeling the after-effects of it.

"I need it, please? It's a long story, and I know I won't be sick."

Awakening from her inertia, Joan fetched the bottle in the low cupboard next the chimney, and served her. Tamara swallowed it like she would a glass of milk, before smacking her lips. Dumbfounded, Joan served her again, but Tamara let it on the table. She had to explain, now.

"Well... I don't know where to start."

"Where is Gabriel, for instance?" asked Joan.

"Good idea, yes, although... I don't know. I suppose he's safe, though."

"You suppose?"

"What are you doing here, in any case? It's a school day." asked Tamara.

"School had been closed, after the suicide." answered Jason.

Tamara looked at them inquiringly. "Suicide?"

"Yes, we heard about two students who jumped from the roof."

Tamara then got the oddest reaction. After a couple of seconds blinking owlishly, she started to laugh, to the point where she fell on the floor in mirth. The others looked at each other, not understanding. Collecting herself, Tamara looked at them and calmed herself before sitting down again.

"Were there any witnesses? Any strange recounting?"

"We heard that the janitor... you know? The drunken one? He saw an angel disappearing."

Tamara's gaze went blank and she muttered absentmindedly. "Yes, that's how he looked like."

The others looked at her, flabbergasted. Jason was the first to shake himself awake. "Would you care to elaborate?"

She looked at them, and seemed to take a decision. "What I will tell you require the greatest secrecy. You understand? No retelling of it to anyone."

They all nodded.

"I may even betray Gabriel a little by telling you all this, but, given the circumstances... Remember Halloween?"

They all nodded again.

She took a deep breath. She was going to be direct. "Well... Gabriel is a wizard."

The reactions were different. Stunned, Joan had her jaw hanging. Kevin had risen, yelling "I knew it!"

Jason looked at her, waiting for the rest, as he thought she was going to explain. He was disappointed when she spoke again.

"I'm not going to explain much, because I feel it's not my place to do so. Anyways, let me begin by the roof incident..."

They settled comfortably, waiting for the story.

"After the sport class, I was late for my English period, and I was running in the corridor when the jocks found me." The others felt the disgust thrown in the word, and knew immediately who she was referring to.

"They dragged me on the roof and began to ask me questions about Gabriel. He apparently disappeared before them, and they were angry because they had wanted to fight him."

Seeing that they wanted to ask questions, she raised her hand. "I'll explain more later."

When they settled back, she continued. "When I wouldn't answer, they struck me until I was unconscious. From what I gathered afterwards, they tried to... to..."

She couldn't quite tell them that she had almost been raped on that roof, but Joan, to her surprise, understood immediately. The sharp intake of breath, the widened eyes, and the shocked expression were indication enough. She wondered for an instant about how she could know so easily, but attributed it to feminine intuition and went on to the tale.

"Anyway... they couldn't do much, because Gabriel appeared at that moment. I don't remember what happened exactly, but we were thrown off the roof together."

The others blinked at her owlishly, and, were the situation not so serious, she could have laughed. She merely smiled, before continuing.

"That's when Gabriel did something. In mid-fall, he magically transported us both in his hideaway."

"WHAT?" the three others answered, before asking multiple questions at the same time.

She smirked, and raised her hand to ask for silence. When they complied, she spoke again, her hand still raised to prevent them from interrupting.

"There is a set of rooms he owns, without doors or windows. He explained to me that the only mean to enter or leave them is through magic." She wasn't ready to talk about his ring or his previous demonstration of it to her. Furthermore, she didn't want to speak about her stay there without him nor his animal transformation.

"To make a long story short, he then took me to a building he knew, and it was a magical school, which he seemed to remember quite well, even if his memory was still incomplete."

Sensing that the others were bubbling with questions, she raised her other hand. The next part was a complete lie, so she didn't want to be interrupted while telling it.

"After touring it for some time, he then took me home, before going back to his hideaway. We both were really tired, physically and mentally, and he wanted to sleep before coming back for explanations. My father... happened to notice us appearing from thin air, and he wants to move away. I'm not even allowed to speak about it to him, and I'd rather you don't either."

She lowered her hands, took a sip of her glass, and looked at them. She knew that her next sentence would raise endless strings of questions, but she uttered it nonetheless. "That's quite all."

And she was true. She spent the next hour trying to answer questions while at the same time hiding a large slab of the truth. However, they were so shocked by the story that they didn't notice, and kept asking her question after question.

Until they heard a crashing sound upstairs.

Hogwarts' Room of Requirements...

"Harry!" shrieked Ginny.

The others looked around uneasily.

Ron then spoke. "I gather he still has his escape route. Each time he falls unconscious, he disappears. I guess we will have to wait for him to wake up, wherever he is, before he joins us again."

"But will he want to come back?" asked Megan. She was still unsure of the whole thing, especially the still-looming cloud of smoke on top of the cup, from which the blood had disappeared.

Hermione involuntarily interrupted the discussion. She had been thinking about something again, and her mind had come up with a striking conclusion. "Oh my god!"

The other six occupants looked at her inquiringly. She went to explain, but a knock at the door startled them all. Fred went to the door, and opened it to reveal the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore, complete with the body around them.

He glanced at the room, and, noticing the empty eighth chair, asked "Were you waiting for me?"

They all looked between them uneasily, wondering if the old teacher was to be notified of the secret. Hermione, knowing the old man better than the others, took the decision.

"No sir. That was Harry's chair."

The old man understood, but the story around Harry seemed so unreal that he had to ask for a confirmation. "Seeing the group here, I can assume that you were speaking about Mr Potter."

They nodded, most of them smiling.

Nonplussed, Dumbledore continued to reflect for a few seconds, before talking again. "I would like to know how..."

That's when Dumbledore noticed the smoke cloud on the table. He frowned, interrupting himself, and approached. Taking in the knife as well, he looked at Hermione, who he had unconsciously appointed head of the group.

"Who did that?"

The tone wasn't quite gentle. Surprised, Hermione still felt inclined to tell the truth.

"Harry, sir." She then proceeded to tell him about the experience with Harry's and Megan's bloods, and the fact that Harry seemed to know the ritual pretty well. Over her talking, Dumbledore relaxed more and more, losing his cold attitude. Hermione wanted to know the reason behind the professor's frown, though, so she asked if it was a dark spell.

"It's not dark, Hermione. There are only very few spells really dark. Most of the time, what is dark is the use we make of them. Blood magic is quite powerful, you see, and its use can be seen as dark by many bigoted people. That's why it's mostly taught in the magical colleges, as a specialty in Alchemy. It's not something I thought I'd see in a school, especially not mine. However, many dark practitioners use it for illegal purposes which I won't list here. I was just surprised to find this here.

"As I said, the field encompassing Blood magic is Alchemy, and one of the most infamous related stories about that field is the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, which you know about since your first year, sadly. Still, I'm wondering how Harry got this education. In fact, I'm wondering about the whole elapsed year."

"Sir?" Hermione looked lost in her thoughts, and spoke as if she was thinking aloud, which she was. "Harry told us he found it in the book left to him by his ancestor."

"Professor Shaun?" interrupted the old teacher, before being silenced by her. She was following her own train of thoughts, again.

"No, he didn't say the name, only that we might know the ancestor's name, now. Unless he was talking to me only... as if challenging me. I don't know, sir, you saw him, and..."

"I didn't see him, Hermione."

She suddenly looked up at him. "Actually, you did, and everyone else too! I remember, now! It was him in the Great Hall!"

"You don't mean..."

"Yes. It's the only explanation. And his form explains everything."

"The winged lion?"

"Who do we know has a winged lion on its crest? A golden griffin, to be exact?"

Ginny looked up, suddenly. All her talks with Harry from a year ago came back full force. Her eyes misted at the revelation. "Gryffindor. Godric Gryffindor."

"Exactly."

"Harry is a descendant of Gryffindor?" blurted Megan. When the others, while not seeming convinced due to the enormity of the fact, nodded, she was impressed. Like all muggleborns, she had learned about the Founders in her first weeks of school, and knew that they were rumoured to be the most powerful wizards and witches to have lived, apart from Merlin himself.

Tentatively, not knowing the result of the spell Harry had performed, she spoke again. "Does it mean that I'm one too?"

The wrinkled and white-bearded Transfiguration Professor looked up suddenly, alternating glances toward her and toward the smoke cloud which was beginning to dissipate.

"What did Harry told you about this?"

Hermione drew a deep intake of breath before launching on her explanation. "When we talked about Megan's sisterly resemblance to him, he told us he knew how to be sure. He and Megan dropped some of their blood, and... Sir?"

Dumbledore had heard everything, and had already jumped to the conclusion. Gaping, he could only look at Megan, his eyes wide, and the amused twinkling completely gone. Instead, there was astonishment, and sorrow. Nobody from the room had ever seen the old man like this.

Hermione, despite the strangeness of the situation, deemed it safe to continue the tale. "Harry cast a spell on the blood, and when he saw the result, he fainted and... disappeared."

Albus Dumbledore was staring at the place where the smoke cloud had evaporated, listening to the explanation and frowning. The last word threw him off balance, and he glanced at Hermione pointedly.

"Disappeared? While unconscious?"

"Yes, sir. It seems that he has a mean of escape each time he's unconscious. It had happened four times already. That is, four times we are aware of." She started to count on her fingers. "In the alleyway where we met his winged lion form for the first time. At the battle for Hogwarts, against the Death Eaters. In the Great Hall. And now."

Dumbledore was frowning. Ginny moved uneasily, trying to catch his eye. When she succeeded, she looked pointedly at the girl next to her, who was still looking at him with wide eyes, waiting for a reply. He sighed internally. This was going to be difficult to manage, afterwards. Especially now that Harry was back. After all, it was his fault that the young boy had been left in the care of murderers.

"The spell he did cast gives one shape per tested blood family."

Megan seemed lost, while the others looked at Dumbledore in astonishment. The first year had waited for a simple answer and couldn't parse the old man's sentence. Seeing her state, Hermione clarified.

"You are, Megan. You actually are Harry's sister."

The young girl fainted. And someone knocked.

In a deserted cemetery...

"Go on! I'm fed up of this rotten form!"

"You heard the master! Make those flobberworms dig faster!"

The Death Eaters had captured a few muggles men nearby, after having played with their wives and children. They had then cast Imperious on them, and, guided by Jugson, had forced them to dig a particular grave up. The black-robed wizards had nothing against blood, but didn't want to get dirt on themselves. Add to that the fact that they weren't quite physically fit, and actually liked to use that curse on people. They were Death Eaters, after all.

On the gravestone, there was only a name. Tom Riddle. Each time he looked at it, Voldemort sneered. His damned father, who he had killed himself, would have his use, finally. He reflected about his youth for a time. His accursed youth. Rejected by his father, he had been placed in an orphanage and spent ten years belittled by the adults and bullied by the other kids. He had taken his revenge on both after graduating from Hogwarts, though. His father had been the first to taste his Avada Kedavra, and the orphanage was now a stinking ruin.

An exclamation from Jugson brought him to the present. They had found the decaying coffin! He told Jugson only to bring back the necessary bones and to leave the rest there, under the earth. Including the muggles.

He then levitated his chair around to sit near the simmering cauldron, next to which stood his yet-unnamed ally. The man seemed so old and parched that one could think he would crumble to dust at the smallest breeze. However, his eyes denied this, full as they were with experience and wisdom.

Not only Voldemort's current body was not his own, but it was also rotting slowly. The natural body functions had been neglected for too long, due to the full possession, and Barty Crouch Jr had died while being possessed. Thankfully, Voldemort had imbibed the antidote to the usual 'Death Eater' quick rotting potion while the body was alive, as he couldn't benefit from potions anymore in his current state. As a parasite in a spirit form, Voldemort could have sustained the body's functions, but he would have had to do so consciously, and it hadn't lasted long before he totally stopped, concentrating on a way to get his own body back rather than operating lungs and sphincters.

Jugson was near the cauldron, now. Good servant.

"Bones of the father." he said, while putting the bones in the silver cauldron. At the same time, his wizened ally started to chant the spell incantation. A jar of blood, taken from the now very dead Bill Weasley while the blood was fresh, was emptied in the simmering cauldron.

"Blood of the enemy."

Voldemort then looked at Jugson with interest in his eyes. The last part required that the servant sacrifice a body part, and Jugson brought his wand on his own arm, trembling.

A perfectly aimed Cutting curse later, Jugson took his bleeding forearm and threw it in the cauldron.

"Flesh..." he gasped, "of a... servant."

He then collapsed. Voldemort stirred. It was time! He rose, his ghostly form separating from Crouch's body. The corpse then fell on the ground, decaying so fast, now, that it was reduced to mere bones in a matter of minutes. That didn't interest Voldemort, though, as his spirit got called inside the cauldron where the dark magic was at work.

The other Death Eaters, their job done, came around the working space, where Jugson was lying and bleeding, the cauldron was simmering, and the old man was muttering, his wand raised towards the cauldron. After a few minutes, the cauldron began to shake violently, before exploding. In its place, a body slowly rose from his crouched position. The old man moved at the same time, and covered the scaly body in a robe fitting his station. Voldemort was truly alive, again. And he was decided to make a good use of it.

In a small room...

This time, the walls merely displayed landscape tapestries. The two doors opened at the same time. The two persons walked in silence towards the central chess board, each eyeing the other wearily. On the board, the pieces were still moving by themselves, obeying strange rules. It wasn't a regular chess game, as pieces morphed themselves into others, and sometimes more than one moved at the same time. After a few minutes watching, the old man spoke softly.

"I see that thou art readying thyself."

The other snorted, politeness not being his forte. "Speak for yourself, you are doing the same."

"Ready or not, I think that our final battle will happen soon."

"Easy to say. Don't forget that I prepared my pieces as much as you do."

"I have noticed, do not worry thyself unnecessarily. I am prepared."

"Speaking of noticing, I couldn't miss the tinge of creation coming from your young hero."

"Attuned to thy domain as thou art, thou for sure couldst not miss that." The old man grinned.

The seemingly younger one frowned. "I couldn't miss it? It's an understatement! You used his severed state to connect him directly to your domain. He's dripping with life! And each time he should die, he gains more!" He sighed. "I may have had words with my pieces, but you gave yours advantages I can't go against!"

"I heard about thine words and items, too. Truly, calling thyself Thirteen! Thou waddlest in the symbols too much, I say."

"I play the game as I see fit! And you 'waddle' in the old tongue too much! I should have kept that Shake-something soul instead of letting you have it."

"Shakespeare is the name! And thou knowest that all creators go to me. Now wait, werst thou complaining about the game ere? Am I being unfair?"

"Not quite, since we both signed this game's rules. However, I'm wondering..." he looked at the old man pointedly. "There have been a couple of noteworthy deaths that I never saw arriving in my realm. Are you hiding something from me?"

"What dost thou mean?"

The young-looking androgyne looked at the old man inquiringly. "I wonder if you kept some souls for yourself, to... I don't know... cheer your pieces when needed."

His older counterpart looked at him, reflecting. "I do not know what thou meanest. Which souls?"

"Come one... You know... Your little protégé's parents..."

The old man looked at him with wide eyes, before answering. "I can assure thee that I never saw them nor ordered their admittance. You know they didn't invent anything. Why?"

"Since the beginning of our game, I've searched for them. I admit that I had wanted to use them, but I didn't find them. To make my search thorough, after the gardens, I also visited my pits. I didn't see them there either. I was curious, so I peered through my account logs, something I do rarely..."

While the other one was nodding, indicating that he didn't read them often either, he continued. "...and I also noticed that there were fewer souls there than expected."

"How many?" asked the old man, frowning.

"I don't know exactly, and I didn't go far back in time, but a really great number. In the last twenty years, roughly ten thousands are missing from the count. Mostly magical, with a few elementals and some of our servants. It wasn't showing, though, due to the already large population in my grounds."

The old man was thoughtful, and didn't comment for a time. Noticing the impatient expression of his younger counterpart, he answered.

"I do not know about this. Thou knowest that it shall not be? Thou hast been given the key of thy ever-growing domain at the same time as I did, and thy job since then had been clear: administering the souls of the dead. However, if thou commencest to be bereaved of them like this, the Superintendent might not be pleased."

"You can talk! Have you noticed the chaos on the ball of dirt we have to manage? When they arrive, some of them souls even blame it to me, before understanding our divisions. You are the Creator, but if I have my word, you create too much. They are on the verge of eating themselves, I tell you!"

The tone was quickly mounting now, and they were arguing like their charges may do in their worst days.

"Whatever dost thou mean again? I insisted on giving them free will, and I nurtured them..."

"At the beginning, yes! Thank you to have provided me with some more substance than reptilian minds. But look at what that had left us with! Rabbits, all of them. Worse, even, as rabbits wouldn't poison their air, water, and other natural resources. I swear, if I win this game, I'll clean the half of them in one go."

"Thou canst not actually clean them out, thou knowest."

"I'll get my next protégé do the job, and that's the same! They are even limiting your own creations, by destroying species after endangered species."

The bantering went back and forth for quite a long time, as the two opponents exchanged their point of view and more. Unaware of the heated exchange, the chess pieces were moving on the unattended chequered board.

Hogwarts' Room of Requirements, again...

Minerva McGonagall entered the room, panting. Obviously, the old witch had been running.

"Albus! I..."

She stopped, taking the students in, especially the collapsed one and the red-haired girl who was tending her.

Smiling, Dumbledore asked "Minerva? What is it about?"

Glancing uneasily at the other ones, she started again. "The device for the intrusion, Albus! I forgot it in my quarters, behind my office, and I found only now that there had been two more entries."

Albus Dumbledore thought fast about it, and began to chuckle.

"It's alright, Minerva, really." He added the last word to calm her, but still understood that an explanation was in order. "You know, it appears, from what these young students told me, that someone is back. Someone we thought dead."

"And? Who is it?"

Dumbledore conjured a chair behind the Headmistress, before answering. "Harry Potter."

The chair had been a good idea. A minute later, McGonagall recovered enough to stutter "But... how... why..."

The old man went to answer when another knock could be heard from the door. 'Damn' he thought, 'I would rather tell the story only once, even if I don't know everything yet.'

Severus Snape entered the room, at roughly the same time as Megan Prunner awoke. While the young girl cried softly, remembering what had happened before her passing out, the Potion Master quietly asked the other teachers what had happened. Albus began to answer, before being interrupted by Ron who, after going to the door to lock it, went back toward them. He then concentrated, and the Room gave the remaining teacher a chair of his own. Everyone sat, looking at him questioningly. Snape had cast a glance at Hermione, who had nodded back, signifying that Ron was in charge of the talking.

And in charge he was. He told them about Harry's return, and the conclusion that Harry was of Gryffindor's blood. When he sat, everybody was quite thoughtful. Linking his speech to her question upon arriving in the room, the Headmistress looked at him, her eyes wide, before reflecting for a while, and turning toward Dumbledore.

"How comes we failed to contact him?"

Luna answered just before Hermione.

"Full amnesia."

Everyone looked at the Ravenclaw in wonder.

"What?" She smiled. "I'm no Hermione, but I'm still a Ravenclaw."

Hermione snorted at the jab, before smiling too. She then started to explain for the ones who hadn't understood yet. "If he was amnesic to the point of forgetting his own identity, he couldn't be reached by the owls."

Ron stood to address everyone again. "Harry asked us to keep his return quiet. I'm in no position to force anybody to obey, but I feel it was important enough to be notified. It's Harry's trust we are speaking about, here." Although he talked to everybody, he was looking Dumbledore in the eyes.

They all nodded, and greeted themselves a good day, before separating.

Albus Dumbledore was one of the last ones in the room. The other one was Severus Snape, whose sleeve he had grasped when everyone had left, to tell him to stay. When everybody was gone, he looked at the Potion Master.

"Ronald left something out. We discovered that young Megan Prunner is indeed Harry's sister."

Snape looked at his colleague, quite shocked. "How is it possible?"

Dumbledore sighed, before answering. "I don't know. I hoped that, with your history," both men winced at the term which they both knew referred to Snape's Death Eater days "you'd have some insights. You were there during the assault against the Potter's House, I recall."

"Yes... to my eternal shame. You won't tell this to anyone, though, as promised? Especially that little group..."

"The promise still holds."

"Good." The Potion Master made himself comfortable before telling the story again. "We had extracted the location from Pettigrew, and Voldemort went there, followed by his inner circle. At that time, we were six: Lucius, Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Avery, O'Donnell, and me. We weren't to intervene, though, as the dark lord wanted to be sure of his job."

He made a pause, while Dumbledore nodded, before continuing, his eyes closed in reminiscence. "We heard the shouts of the battle with Potter, and the cries of Evans. After that, we heard Voldemort shriek like never before, and an explosion shook the house. We didn't know what to do and didn't dare entering the house. I recall that Lucius and Bellatrix wanted to enter, but Rodolphus and Avery told them out of it. O'Donnell told us he was going to check if the master had apparated to our headquarters and he Apparated away. An hour afterwards, Sirius Black arrived on his flying motorcycle, and we left, not having had any order to deal with further opposition. I remember guessing that it was a social call initially, as he had a cake which he dropped before entering the house. A day afterwards, the news of Voldemort's disappearance went to the press. We never saw..."

He frowned, his eyes still closed, before opening them wide. "Albus! You should ask the mutt about this, as he was the first to enter the house... but to my recollection, O'Donnell disappeared that night too."

Ginny went to the Owlery. Taking some paper and a quill from her bag, she quickly wrote a message, folded it, and fetched her favourite owl.

"Hedwig! Hedwig!"

The snowy owl recognized the voice, and left her perch to greet the distraught teenager. Her hooting made Ginny smile a little, before tying the message to the owl's leg. She then looked at her in the eye, and muttered "Harry's back, girl. Time to go back home, wherever that is, now."

The owl looked at her with something akin to wonder in her round eyes. She then hopped on the spot, hooting happily, before taking the air towards her target.

In a secluded set of rooms...

Waking up in his bed, Harry cursed his ring once again. How could he leave like that each time things were interesting? True, it has saved him, once, but it had also retarded a true meeting with Ginny by a few months. Still, he had needed Luna's help to find his lost memory, and he didn't know how a get-together with Ginny would have been without it. Alone in his rooms, he smirked, and blushed, upon imagining a hug followed by a question like 'who are you?'

The first thing he did, then, was to remove the unconscious condition from his ring, before preparing himself to go back. He was waited for.

Waited for?

Now that he remembered everything, something began to annoy him.

The Headmaster.

The old man had forced him to stay there. He had been the one putting him in their care first. He had been putting him back there between his first and second year, thus putting him at a disadvantage to the point of almost being expelled. Some of his old friends had suggested that it was for him to live a normal childhood. A normal childhood!

Harry smirked. A normal childhood wasn't one where you were belittled all the time. A normal childhood didn't mean being struck repeatedly by one's guardians. A normal childhood couldn't include mental and physical abuse. He had wondered, when he had been a child, if there was a god. When he had arrived in Hogwarts and seen Dumbledore for the first time, he had imagined that the man was a god. Now, however, he was thinking quite the opposite. Which god would leave his charge unattended for a decade? Ten years! Ten years of neglect and abuse, and not a visit.

Harry had built quite an anger at that point, and, lowering his head, he remarked that his whole body was surrounded by sparks. He searched for something metallic to deliver his energy into, but didn't find anything. He suddenly remembered his weight bar, and jumped in his sport room to get a hold of it. Once done, even if he couldn't lift it entirely right away, he pushed the energy through his hands into the staff.

Once done, he felt better. He tried not to think about the Headmaster again, but his thoughts were going back to the man each time. Looking at the weight bar, he decided to tire himself. He knew his thoughts were always calmer after a good workout. He tried to lift the bar and found that it was quite heavy. For a workout, he needed something lower. He wondered briefly how the bar could be so heavy, before remembering the last workout he had in the room, which he finished with weights heavier than usual.

Uttering a lowered weight, he laid on the cushioned bench and started to press the bar, thinking. That weight thing made him reflect about his own strength. He remembered his state when the Dursleys weren't feeding him, and it was a miracle that he could lift anything. Still, he managed, because he had chores to do, and his muscles, although thin, were strong. Strangely, he was now able to lift really heavy weights. For instance, the weight he was now lifting was his regular 10 stones, while, when it was on the ground, he remembered he had set it to around 25 stones. Reflecting about it, he noticed that he had always felt better, healthier, and stronger after each of his long-term stays in hospital wards. Why? He didn't know. It was just a fact.

After a few lifts, he decided to try to train his sword wielding, and thought of a sword. Despite his few periods in fencing, he had wielded only one real sword in his life, and that was when fighting the Basilisk. When the staff took the shape of that particular sword, Harry took some time to examine it. That's when he discovered something. Something was written on the blade, in a little flowing script. He knew it was only a copy, and wondered how he could have given it a more defined shape than before. That question was short-lived as he remembered having recovered his memory now. He read the name and, surprised, dropped the sword which clanked on the stone floor.

He lifted it again, and read the script again. This time, he didn't drop it, but his arms went slack and he had to sit on the bench. On the blade was written the name of its rightful owner. His ancestor. Godric Gryffindor. Remembering the elapsed year as well as his book, he made the connection with Jason's family.

Jason! His muggle friends!

He had to return home, or else Joan and Michael would worry. But at the same time, now that he had recovered his own mind, he couldn't very well leave the magical world. Dumbledore could wait, of course, as he had so much wanted to have a home and a family.

A family!

His mind froze while his thoughts took two diverging directions. Shaking, he forced them on one track again, remembering what had happened before his last arrival in his hideaway. The most important track. His family. His sister.

Looking around, he prepared himself and his ring to go back to Hogwarts, when he suddenly remembered a detail. A small detail, from his short stay in his vault. The ring's owner.

The Technomancy teacher.

The writer of the books and diary.

The builder of his hideaway.

Ginevra Shaun, his grandmother.

How comes his goddamned Headmaster didn't inform him of his whole family? In Harry's first year, the man had noticed that it was his greatest desire to have one, so he could at least have given him some names to hold on to.

Furious against the old man, he directed his elemental energy into the blade again, before slashing around wildly. He suddenly hit the bench inadvertently, and dropped the blade in shock at what happened then. Taking the blade again, he tapped it lightly against the bench without a reaction. Understanding dawned on his face as he remembered what he had done previously. He closed his eyes, concentrating on Ginny, and felt the energy flowing. After putting a bit of it in the blade, he struck the bench again.

And the same thing happened: a sharp, although small, clasp of thunder erupted from the junction, and the bench got another charred mark. Harry smiled, remembering his episode with Dementors. That would be useful!

He was sure that Dumbledore would want to question him, and he had to tell the tale of what had happened in the year to his friends. He was sure that it would take the whole week to unfold, and he deemed that popping at Joan's place was the simplest thing to do. He only had to explain quickly that he recovered his memory, before coming back to Ginny. Definitely, if possible. He also had to visit his vault and equip himself in the usual wizard's paraphernalia.

He prepared himself to leave again, this time for muggle London, by turning back into his real appearance and checking about his ring again. When doing so, he had many thoughts of regret about his muggle friends not able to stay with him at Hogwarts.

To be continued in next chapter: Disturbing Revelations...

Merlin! There are times like these,
Where my muse gets a disease.
Weaving threads is quite easy,
Merging them can be messy.