Sorry about the wait; updates may be a bit farther apart from now on.
I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I run the presidency from my basement. I'll deny it if you accuse me of either.
A shimmering mist of blue vapor was rising from Harry's cauldron as he added the crushed basilisk fang. The potion gave off a hissing sound as the ingredients mixed, and the color turned a dark green.
Ten days. Ten days since he had returned to Privet Drive. Ten days since he had heard from the glorious Order. Ten days he had been defying their every move. Unknown to them of course.
Did they think a communications blackout was the best approach? Or perhaps Dumbledore thought the emotional boy needed some time alone. You would think, that after telling Harry the prophecy, the Headmaster would try to prepare the boy. Maybe train him for the road ahead.
Or did Dumbledore expect luck to save Harry once again?
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had written to him though. Unfortunately. Their letters contained the usual crap, saying they knew how he felt and that he would be allowed to come to the Burrow soon.
Harry had laughed bitterly at that. Like hell. They couldn't possibly know how he felt. And they thought he needed permission to go somewhere?
He couldn't wait to see the look on their faces when they learned he was Lord Potter, and as such, free from there control. All of their letters ended with the words 'tell Dumbledore if your scar hurts or anything happens.'
Interesting choice of words, was it not?
He knew that it was no coincidence. There was no such thing. Dumbledore would not approach him for fear of angering his so called 'Golden Boy'. He would instead use the Golden Boy's friends to extract information. It was rather pathetic, and somewhat sickening.
The fools. Did they think him that stupid?
Dumbledore had learned from the previous summer though. Two guards were now positioned around the Dursleys' home, were before there had been only one. Perhaps the Mugwump had lost faith in his birds. Or maybe he was just getting smarter.
Harry briefly wondered how many laws the old coot was breaking by having him watched continuously. He doubted if legalities would stop Albus Dumbledore though; they never had before. And he wasn't naive enough to think they were there just for his own protection. They were there to watch him as much as they were to keep him safe.
Or controlled, more likely.
Harry had the feeling that if he were to take a stroll outside, his guards would stop him. Once more for his own protection. They no doubt thought him a defenseless child, and who knows what kinds of nasty creatures wonder Little Whinging in the broad of daylight.
The guards had not prevented him from carrying out his plans though. In the short while he had been at number 4, he had apparated to Diagon Alley more than once. There were potions ingredients he had needed, as well as a new wardrobe. A lord twice over could not dress below his position now, could he?
A second wand had also been among his purchases. As being disarmed would hamper his fighting ability some what. Made of yew, with a dragon heartstring core, he had bought it from an obscure wand maker located deep in Knockturn Alley. The initial reaction hadn't been as strong as with his Ollivander wand, but he wasn't naturally ambidextrous either. It was rather odd, performing magic with his left hand. Slytherin had written about dueling with two wands in his journals, and hard practicing over the last ten days had made it easier.
He had learned from the mistakes of his previous excursion though. A Parsel glamour charm ensured that none saw him as the Boy Who Lived when he ventured to Diagon Alley.
The problem of the guards was rather simple. All he had to do was figure out the rotation.
Tonks and Mundungus were the easiest to fool. Harry could have turned the Dursleys into dairy cows, set them loose to graze in the front yard, and then herd them back into the house an hour later. And the old crook would still be muttering about the price of black market dragon hide.
Dairy Cows? That wasn't a bad idea. Tonks was a little harder, but a simple illusion charm would convince her that he was still there.
He couldn't risk going on Kingsley and Mad-Eye though. The illusion might fool Kingsley for a while, but the Auror would catch on soon enough. Mad-Eye could simply look through the wall and notice his magical aura. Or lack there of in that instance. The paranoid ex-Auror was nearly in a league of his own, and it wasn't just because of his eye.
Best to be safe and not risk discovery. He didn't want anyone knowing he could apparate.
His potion was now a forest green; meaning it was ready for the last ingredient. Taking a small knife from the desk beside him, he pricked the end of his finger, and held it over the cauldron. Seven drops of blood fell into the potion; turning it a pure silver.
Harry smiled at the reaction. It was just as it was supposed to look, or at least how the instructions had described it to be. Altogether, it had been the hardest potion he had yet to make. Even more so than the Veritaserum he had brewed the week before.
Useful stuff, Veritaserum.
To be precise though,thiswasn't really a potion. Once he had added the blood it officially became a ritual, and was hence illegal. The ministry was rather absurd when it came to rules and regulations. Anything involving blood as an ingredient was deemed 'dark,' by there so called experts. It was the same paranoia they had with the Dark Arts. Since the politicians weren't powerful enough to use the them, they forbid everyone else from doing so.
With their bias notions and idiotic leaders, it was rather surprising that wizards had lasted this long.
He had long been puzzled by his variance in magical aptitude. It seemed odd that he could cast a corporeal Patronus at thirteen, yet it had taken the threat of a dragon for him to learn a simple summoning charm. Until recently, when Remus told him of the block that was placed on him as a infant.
While not common, blocks, are not exactly unheard of either. It is just rare when one is needed, as they are only placed upon the most powerful of children. Those with abnormally high magical levels.
Infants are often unable to control these high levels, and can wandlessly release the power through strong emotions. Such wandless outbursts can cause harm to a young child, possibly resulting in lasting damage.
It is for that reason, that parents will place a block on their child. The block is generally removed by the parents when the child is capable of controlling their excess power. For obvious reasons though, Harry's block was never removed. That restricted the amount of power he could tap into, and hence, hampered his magical maturation.
The ritual that he was undertaking would remove said block; without the need of those who placed it.
He filled a glass with the forest green concoction, and quickly downed the contents. The flavor was unlike that of any potion he had ever taken. The coppery taste of blood, combined with the venomous taste of the basilisk fang and other obscure ingredients, gave it an explosive punch.
Or perhaps that was the magic that was flowing through him.
He could feel it rushing through his veins, as if a door had been opened and magic was flowing out. The power was intoxicating; filling his entire body. And for the second time in recent weeks, he blacked out.
Albus Dumbledore was in a predicament. The Order meeting had drawn to a close, and the members were leaving Grimmauld Place. As the room cleared though, he saw three young faces that didn't belong to Order members.
Molly had protested fiercely at his decision to allow Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to sit in when they discussed the predicament. Albus had been able to convince her in the end though. After all, they were the ones who new the predicament best. At least that's what everyone thought.
'Write to Harry,' his words to the children had been.'Get him to open up.' He needed to know what the boy was up to, what he was thinking. So the children would write, and in turn, share the letters Harry wrote back.
He had been surprised, and even somewhat disturbed, at how easy it had been to get them to read the confidential letters Harry wrote. He quickly pushed those thoughts aside though. Hermione and Ginny had agreed with Albus, saying it was best for Harry. Young Ronald had agreed as well when he found out they would sit in on the meetings when Harry was discussed.
It had all seemed so simple. The boy trusted his friends with everything. It had failed miserably.
Harry had written one letter in return. It had stated, in no uncertain terms, to kindly leave him the hell alone. Albus, who wasn't going to risk angering the teen by writing himself, had the children try once more. The letters had returned shortly after being sent. The boy hadn't even bothered opening them this time.
That's where the predicament occurred. Albus had set up a ward around Privet Drive, that would block any owls trying to get through. The letters were redirected to his office, so in affect, he was screening Harry's mail. He had no qualms about it, as he was doing it for the boy's protection.
The problem was, there weren't any letters redirected to his office. He had opened the ward so the children's letters could get through of course, but there hadn't been any others. That was what was bothering him.
He knew that Harry was one of the main benefactors in Sirius' will; he had gotten that much out of the blasted goblins. As such, they should have sent a letter telling him of the will reading. No such letter had been redirected to his office though. He had checked the ward to make sure it was functioning properly, and it was. But still no letter.
Did that mean the goblins hadn't sent one? Had Harry somehow gotten the letter clandestinely?
He knew from the reports the guards made, that the boy hadn't leftnumber 4all summer. In fact, he had barely left his room except to eat and use the bathroom. So if he did know of the will reading, how had he learned of it?
Albus was willing to admit that he had no plans of letting the boy attend the reading. It was out of the question. Sirius had been at odds with him ever since he decided to have Severus teach Harry Occlumency. He knew the decision hadn't been popular, but it had been necessary at the time. He had butted heads several times with the former Marauder over the way he handled Harry.
It was because of their disagreements, that he wouldn't let Harry go to the will reading. He feared what might happen. Sirius had no doubt left Harry something, and that was what scared him. If Harry where to gain ownership of Grimmauld Place, he could kick the Order out if he wanted to. If Sirius made Harry heir to the House of Black though, Albus couldn't possibly control the boy.
Not that he realized he had lost all control already. It hadn't even occurred to him that Harry could have taken matters into his own hands. He had always taken the boy's loyalty for granted.
No, it would be best if Harry didn't know anything. After all, the boy had just lost his godfather. The wound was still fresh, and he couldn't add more grief to a morning boy's shoulders. He would speak to the consultant about the boy's financial status after the will reading. And just in case, he would send Alastor and Kingsley to watch Privet Drive. That way, if the boy did know of the reading, they would be able to stop him. He couldn't have Harry wondering out in the open at a time like this. It was for his own protection.
Harry Potter, was not interested in his own protection. At the time, he was gripping his wand in concentration, trying to visualize the effects of the spells he was about to cast. He could see the outcome clearly in his mind; the two spells combining to make one. He chanted the words in his head over and over again, and waved his wand in a complicated pattern.
Opening his eyes, he smiled at the outcome. Sitting on the floor before him were two small kittens. He studied them closely, looking for any oddities. The solid brown coat of fur, the gold yellow eyes. Nope, no imperfections. Waving his wand again, the kittens vanished.
A conjuring and duplicating spell were simple enough, but it had proved most difficult combining the two.
He had found it in one of Slytherin's journals. The ancient snake had written a series of volumes on magical theory, and many of his ideas were unheard of today. Even Voldemort didn't know of the concept he was trying.
The majority of Slytherin's work was directed towards Spell Formation. He had developed more than just the Dark Arts and Parsel Magic though. In particular, the idea of combining more than one spell had appealed to him.
Multi-Casting, he had called it. The art of combining several spells and casting them all at once. No voiced incantation was required. Instead, one had to visualize the outcome of the spells. That was were the difficulty occurred. Harry had to completely clear his mind, and visualize the effects of a conjuring and duplicating spell combined.
A large amount of power was also required. If he hadn't removed the block that was on his magic, he probably wouldn't have been able to do it.
Altogether, it was rather tiring business. The multiple kittens had been difficult enough, he didn't want to imagine how hard it would be to combine the Unforgivables. Though he had improved considerably since he arrived at number 4. The first time he tried he couldn't even conjure two match sticks.
The idea had appealed to him as a way of dispatching several opponents at once. Being able to fire multiple curses at one time would be beneficial, to say the least.
As well as a nasty surprise to whoever was unfortunate enough to be on the recieving end.
The day of the will reading had arrived, and the Orderstill hadnot contacted him. He wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore was intercepting his mail, but wouldn't the Mugwump notice the absence of an invitation? Surely that was what the old coot was looking for. Maybe Dumbledore would play the wait and see, praying that Harry didn't know of the reading.
The Headmaster would be between a rock and a hard place when Harry showed up though. The old man didn't have the power or legality to defend or enforce his actions. He would simply hope to keep Harry ignorant.
Taking a look at his repaired clock, he saw that it was a little after nine o'clock in the mourning. He would have to leave soon were he to get there before anyone else. And no doubt Dumbledore told the guards to restrain him if he tried leaving. For his own protection of course.
Sighing wearily at he Headmaster's antics, he got dressed for the day ahead. And he dressed as a rightful Lord should.
The robe he chose was of Acromantula silk; the finest available at Madam Malkins. It was a simple black, but the emerald trim brought out the color of his eyes. He wore dark grey pants and a black dress shirt beneath it. The boots had been specially tailored; made from the excess basilisk hide he had. They were the same grey as his pants, and soundless when he walked. They had been quite expensive, but the final product was well worth it.
He put on the Potter family ring as well, not bothering to hide the fact he was the head of his house. He had a feeling he would need the legalities of Lord Potter before the day was over. The Tenaroe ring was his wild card though. It would remain a secret for as long as possible.
He strapped a wand holster to each forearm, his original wand on his left, the yew wand on his right. All he had to do was bring his right hand to the opposite forearm, and he would have his holly wand in hand. The sleeves of his robe flared slightly at the end, so as not to hamper the speed and ease of his draw.
He had to admit, as he inspected himself in the mirror, that he looked pretty good. His hair was as messy as ever, but he had grown during his short stay at Privet Drive. Removing the block on his power probably had something to do with it. He was taller than before; his body lean but muscled.
His eyes had changed the most though. They were the same piercing green, but there was a hardness that hadn't been there before. The combined effect was. . . . . unnatural. And the dark clothes suited him well. They added to the allure of power and mystery that radiated from him.
It reminded him of Dumbledore, though his aura was somewhat darker than he remembered the Headmaster's to be. Despite the unwanted comparison, he couldn't help but smile. They were in for a big surprise if they suspected him a depressed teen.
With a wave of his wand he shrank his trunk and placed it in his pocket. If all went according to plan he wouldn't be returning to Privet Drive ever again. Though he had to admit, as he looked out his window, things rarely went according to plan around him.
Ah, he thought to himself, it seems Dumbledore has increased the security.
He could sense Mad-Eye and Kingsley standing guard outside number 4. That was unusual as today it was supposed to be Tonks and Mundungus. Mundungus was still there, but not Tonks. Apparently Dumbledore had allowed the metamorphmagus to go to the will reading.
How considerate of him.
Three guards instead of the usual two. The Mugwump really was trying to keep him ignorant. Soon Dumbledore would be locking him in a padded cell. For his own protection of course. He was afraid he couldn't oblige the old man though.
Taking his watch out of his pocket, he pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Portus." The watch glowed blue and shook noisily for a few seconds, then became still once more. Holding it in his hand, he activated it, and smiled as he felt the sensation of a hook being jerked behind his navel.
Dumbledore wasn't the only one who could change the rules. It was their fault if they underestimated him.
He felt his feet hit solid ground as he arrived in the alley next to Gringotts. Using a Portkey definitely wasn't his favorite method of travel, but he didn't want anyone knowing he could apparate yet.
Pocketing his watch, he headed out of the alley and swiftly walked up to the silver doors. His guards would have noticed the burst of light that accompanies a Portkey; which meant Dumbledore would soon know he left his cage.
He walked across the lobby, his eyes searching for any Order member who might have been posted as a sentry. He didn't recognize anyone; nor did he see the tell tale signs of a clumsy metamorphmagus. Coming to the corridor near the Inheritance Office, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was shortly after nine thirty.
So far, so good, he thought to himself. Dumbledore was either thoughtless or overconfident. Harry would take either one.
He walked down the carpeted hall until he came to Conference Room 7. Showing his invitation to the goblin standing outside, he was let in without a word. He was more than a little surprised that he was allowed to enter the room early, but then recalled how the goblin's eyes had widened slightly upon seeing the Potter family ring.
Rather advantageous, Harry thought as he looked down at the signet. He wondered what else he could get by flashing the ruby lion.
The doors closed behind him, and he looked around the room. It was of medium size, with a circle of chairs set in the middle. On the far side was another door, which he assumed led to an anti-chamber of sorts.
He was pleased to see that he was the first one there. That would make things much easier. By now, Dumbledore would have started the search, and the old coot would only need one guess to figure out where Harry went. He would soon be on his way.
What joy!
He leaned back against the wall, positioned so he would initially go unnoticed when the others walked in. He twirled his holly wand between his fingers absentmindedly, waiting for the Bird Club to arrive. It was a habit he had picked up from Voldemort's memories. And, despite its origins, he had found it oddly relaxing.
It was nearly ten o'clock, when he heard the first voices. And true to form, hurried footsteps accompanied them. They were getting close.
He could hear the disgruntled voice of a goblin, followed by several indignant splutters. It seems they were not going to be let in early. Harry would have to thank the goblin later. The yelling lowered to a persistent muttering, and he could begin to discern some of the voices.
The goblins didn't seem to like Dumbledore very much, he noted. He would have to remember that. Right as the clock struck ten, the doors to the Conference Room burst open. Dumbledore had a thing for the dramatics, did he not?
The Headmaster charged in first, quickly followed by Mad-Eye, Kingsley, Tonks, and surprisingly enough, Snape. Though the Potions Master walked in much slower than the others. They looked around the room wildly, only to see it completely empty. They didn't see Harry, who was hidden by the door. It had been pushed open once more, and another group walked in.
Remus was the first to enter, looking slightly amused at the situation. He was followed by an elegant looking woman who Harry didn't recognize, and what appeared to be the whole Weasley clan, minus the three oldest sons. Hermione was with them as well.
The elegant women simply looked at Remus and raised a eyebrow questioningly at the rising chatter and panicked murmurs. The werewolf shrugged, and took a seat, trying hard not to smile. The volume rose as the Weasley's joined the ruckus taking place in the center of the room.
"Enough," Dumbledore finally said, he voice rising above the others. This seemed to quiet them down though, and the muttering stopped.
"Where's Harry?" Mrs. Weasley asked frantically, wringing her hands. Standing next to her, Hermione seemed to be in a similar state of panic.
"Now Molly, I'm sure that Harry is completely fine," Dumbledore assured her. Turning to Mad-Eye, he asked the grizzled ex-Auror, "what exactly happened, Alastor?"
"I told you Albus," Moody said as he took a swig from his hip flask. "Potter was standing there, looking out his window. Then he turned his watch into a Portkey and disappeared."
"Impossible," Snape sneered. "Potter couldn't make a Portkey if his life depended on it."
"Are you calling be a liar, Snape?" Moody growled as he rounded on the spy. "I tell you, the boy created a Portkey and left. That's the last I saw of him."
"How would Harry know how to create a Portkey, though?" Hermione's shrill voice asked. "That's advanced magic."
Harry rolled his eyes. Only Hermione would think of the academics involved at a time like this. The girl really should have been a Ravenclaw.
Dumbledore sighed wearily as the chatter rose once again. Holding up his hand, he silenced the crowd once more. Harry was actually surprised Dumbledore hadn't sensed him yet. He had concealed his aura as best he could, but he hadn't been sure it would fool the Headmaster.
"I don't know where Harry learned to make a Portkey, but that's not what is important," the old man said. "For now, we must concentrate on finding him. We can't have him galloping off unprotected."
Anger blazed in Harry's eyes as he heard this. Galloping off, was he? Did the old fart think him a stupid, powerless child?
Silencing the chatters once more, Dumbledore continued, "Harry must be returned to Privet Drive. It is the only place that is safe for him."
Harry jaw almost dropped open this time. Safe? Did Dumbledore consider being attacked by Dementors safe?
"We must find him immediately," the old man finished with conviction.
It was more than Harry could take. With a wave of his hand, the heavy doors banged shut, violently. Everyone in the room, including Dumbledore, jumped at the noise.
"That shouldn't be too hard," Harry said in a cold voice. He was still leaning against the wall, casually twirling his wand like a baton. Fury was evident in his cold, green eyes.
There she is folks.
Lady Azar de Tameran: Lily was not a serpent tongue, as I like to call it. Only the males of the Tenaroe lined are blessed with the snakish gift. And as for Remus, he will be more help than hindrance. Though I'm not sure how much.
illusion0910: as of now, I'm leaning towards 'no pairing' for Harry. I could always change my mind of course, but if there is a ship, it won't be a major part of the story.
Thanks for the reviews. If you have any questions or comments, I would love to hear them.
Next Chapter: The House of Black
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