AN: So, its me, Alvor. Posting again. Anyways, might get the next chapter of this out, or we might post a spiderman story (just Petey). We've got four chapters of that. Anyways, let us know what you think.

Or just fling insults at us. I'm totally not desperate for any engagement XD

Wyvern: Please don't, and enjoy the reading.

Origins VI

Harry Potter

"Mantequilla!"

As Filch snarled out a word Harry didn't recognize, the demigod did blink when the gargoyle they'd stopped in front of stepped out of the way… and a staircase started climbing out of the ground… easily going up at least three floors.

"Huh."

"Quiet, boy!"

Filch snarled again, something the demigod realized was probably his primary form of communication. It gave the grown man, in his humble opinion, a distinct similarity to Ripper. But the young man knew not to say that - people ought not to make fun of those less fortunate than themselves.

He did plant his feet, trying not to giggle when the caretaker, who was still trying to drag him along, nearly fell and slammed into the ground from the sudden burst of resistance.

Stepping forwards himself, Harry didn't give Filch time to recover and start saying horrid things again. But it did seem prudent to ask why the castle even needed him. Aside from the fact he clearly didn't like children, the man was angry and, allegedly, rather sadistic. At the least he was the kind of creepy that not even the Dursleys wanted Harry hanging around with… though more because it might affect their reputation, rather than out of concern for him.

"Stupid brat. The headmaster'll have more than words for you!" Apparently content with muttering to himself, the strange alleged caretaker pushed Harry up the stairs. Amusingly, as they stopped before a large, heavily engraved door, Headmaster Dumbledore's voice called out from within.

Well before Filch could knock.

"Enter, please."

Looking about in a mixture of curiosity and amazement, the demigod could only stare in wonder at the hundreds of moving portraits and dozens of whirring, puffing, smoking instruments and beakers and gizmos. Not only was this obviously the office of a wizard, it was even more obviously the office of a man with a sense of whimsy.

"Headmaster, I cau-"

"Lemon drop?"

Smiling from deep in his beard, eyes twinkling behind half moon spectacles, Albus Dumbledore seemed to see right past the anger and bluster and simply looked at them like they were both schoolboys who'd gotten into a scrap.

"I… yes, headmaster."

Filch fumbled for one and even handed one to Harry after a small prompting from Albus- for his part the young man simply jumped when Mrs. Norris appeared out of nowhere and bumped her head against his legs.

"But she didn't even come up the stairs with us."

Muttering to himself, the statement got a chuckle from the old warlock who simply flicked his wand and summoned a small dish of tuna for the cat.

"Perhaps. But cats, and so many other creatures, are far more clever than most give them credit for."

Beaming at this, Filch hurriedly agreed, before launching back into a rather impressively verbose spiel about all the damage Harry had caused and the horrid things he'd done and how the little brat was clearly trying to deface school property.

"Harry, might I see your wand?" Nodding at the headmaster's request, as his mouth was full of lemon drops at the moment, the young man handed over the tool. "So, Argus, you say he caused a great deal of damage?" Even more hurried agreement came from the caretaker. "Well then, let's see how he did it." Pointing Harry's wand away from his guests and bringing his own wand up to, the headmaster intoned in a low, clear, firm voice. "Priori Incantatem."

A small jet of golden light surged out of Harry's wand and the floating globules of light and dust began taking on a colorless hue. These almost transparent motes of light began to show the demigod snapping and repairing a quill over and over and over again.

In fact, this bout of practice went on for so long, with the attempts taking longer and longer the further back they went, that Filch had the time to go from angry, to depressed, to embarrassed, and finally to a sneering sense of victory as he pulled the cup out of his coat pocket and waved it around in victory.

"I found him, in the trophy room, with the whole place smashed to bits. He must have done it without magic! He was even looming over Helga Hufflepuff's own heirloom at that!"

Frowning, the headmaster seemed to shrink a little.

"My boy, did you cause that damage? And besides, why were you out so late after curfew?"

Clearly disappointed in him, Harry had to shuffle in place a little while he swallowed the candies. Eventually, though, he did man up.

"Sorry sir, I didn't break any of the glass, but I can't say why I was out."

"Not without getting another student in trouble, you mean."

Unsure whether or not he should answer, Harry's hesitation told both of the adults all they needed to.

"See, the brat's covering for all his little friends! Surely they got together to cause more work for me and wreck the place. It's just what they do."

Handing the caretaker another lemon drop, Dumbledore simply inclined his head.

"Yes. I do think that's correct." Seeing the Slytherin's slowly rising panic, the headmaster handed the Holly wand back over to its proper master and spoke. "Even without needing to resort to legilimency I think it's quite clear that a few boys decided to be boys. Now, Harry, I would like to offer you an option. If you name the individuals involved I shall punish you less harshly and only take ten points from each person involved. But, if you remain silent, I am afraid I shall need to hold you solely responsible for the damage and for being out after curfew, and take fifty points from you. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir, I do." Nodding, Harry chewed on his lip for a moment before giving another nod. "I'm sorry sir, truly, but I can't say who else was out tonight."

Lips twitching, Albus nodded as well.

"Then I'm afraid I'll need to punish you for lying as well. I'll be scheduling a detention for you. Filch, will that be sufficient?"

Overjoyed, the man in question eagerly agreed with the headmaster and was soon seen out, Mrs. Norris happily purring away in his arms. That left the two wizards to sit quietly, Dumbledore having invited the Slytherin to take a seat, and the low scratching of a quill being the only real noise that filled the room. It gave Harry time to think and take in the room, even as he worried about the damage he'd just done to his own house. After all, he'd earned them about eight points the whole year so far and had just lost fifty!

And it was as he turned that thought over in his head that something occurred to him.

"Um, Professor Dumbledore?"

Without looking up from where he was working, the mage answered.

"Yes my boy?"

Unsure if he should bring this up at all or not, Harry still forged ahead.

"You… never actually took the points. You just said you would, but you haven't. What does that mean?"

Eyes twinkling when he looked up again, clearly smiling, the old man chuckled.

"I told you, didn't I? I do not believe you are the one responsible and I surely can't punish you for something I truly do not think you have done." While Harry gawped, the old man took a moment to think before nodding. "Yes, I'll take five points for being out after curfew, five points for lying to a teacher, and five points for the damage in the trophy room." Smiling again, Albus couldn't stop himself and chuckled a bit more. "And I will award you two points for actually taking my lemon drops. I shudder to imagine the lurid rumors going on about my candies, the silly things certain people believe!"

Laughing along himself, Harry couldn't help but agree.

"Aye sir. Some people are silly indeed."

There was a companionable silence between the two of them. Harry hadn't expected to get out of trouble like this, not that he did something to get in trouble other than go along… or rather… force Draco to go through with his challenge. It was funny and he was sure Draco would probably tease him over it the day after.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Harry chuckled when the old wizard actually offered him a coin.

"Just… Mrs. Hippolyta will probably be annoyed at me."

The grandfatherly headmaster nodded.

"Yes, guardians have a way of being protective of their charges. I'm sure that she would rather approve of your actions, however she is going to critique your performance at the duel… such as it was. Not all of us have the moral fiber to stick our necks out for our friends or to remain honorable, though I do believe it would be unwise to encourage this particular form of honor."

Harry wasn't so sure he agreed, but the young boy stayed quiet.

Arguing with adults rarely worked at the best of times.

"Headmaster."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you have anything for my hand? It's kind of starting to hurt."

Frowning, Albus leaned over his desk and took in Harry's fingers - only now noticing that several large, ugly blisters had formed.

"Are you ok?" Leaping up, he came around to where the demigod was sitting. "When did this happen?" Not even giving the half blood a moment to answer, and slightly annoying him with the sudden fussing, the headmaster had his wand out and twisting over the blisters before Harry even opened his mouth. "Tell me what happened, were you touching something? Did something bite you or stab you? Were you injured anywhere else?"

Doing his best not to sound unappreciative, after all they only covered the bottom of his hand, the demigod answered as simply as he could.

"When I touched the weird cup. It made my scar itch and it burned my hand. Isn't that something to stop theft?"

"No, it isn't." Still more than a little worried, the headmaster's wand kept moving. "And it most certainly should not have dark magic imbued into it."

"Dark magic?"

"Indeed. These boils are resisting my countercharms, not completely, but as fiercely as such things can."

"Is that bad?"

Looking up, the headmaster was solemn and stern as he spoke.

"Harry, my boy, this is Helga Hufflepuff's own cup." Pointing at the small, ornate chalice the old man fired off a few strange colored lights, paling when they turned sickly colors. "It should be free of any spellwork at all, aside from a refilling charm and I fear that it is quite severely cursed indeed."

The advanced magic talk flew over Harry's head for the most part, advanced magic being any magic more complicated than fixing a quill. But the headmaster was starting to talk about layered charms, sympathetic reactions, the interaction between natures, and lower level auric patterns.

But Harry knew enough from Quirrel's basic defense class to understand some of what was being said.

Vaguely.

Generally.

Kind of sorta.

The cup he touched, which he thought had been a small trophy, ended up being cursed with something that hurt his hand. Though it didn't look serious, it shouldn't have been cursed to begin with.

Easy to understand.

Shame there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Is it gonna stay like this?"

The rash was starting to annoy him. And he was sure Draco was gonna tease him over it if he saw it tomorrow. Which wouldn't be at all fun. At least it wouldn't be as bad as what Gemma would do when she found out he'd lost the house fifteen points. But maybe Harry would be able to grovel and get away without more homework!

"If we don't get this seen to - yes. Now, Mr. Potter, with me. We'll be heading to the infirmary." Taking Harry by the arm, Dumbledore lead the boy over to his fireplace before pulling out a small handful of dust from a small box atop the mantle. "The Infirmary!"

Tossing the dust into the flames, they burst into green light. And, before the son of Heracles could yelp, he was dragged into them.

His whole world spun and span and twisted and twirled and two seconds later Harry, almost falling over himself, stepped out of the fireplace with the headmaster's hand still on his shoulder.

"Pomona, we have a patient!"

"So, Potter, I see you couldn't resist making a spectacle of yourself."

Harry nodded, sitting still in the infirmary bed while his head of house worked.

"No sir. Sorry sir."

These were the first words they'd exchanged since the man had swooped in and conversed with Madame Pomfrey in hushed tones.

"Am I sorry, Potter?"

"No, Professor Snape. I apologize for making a spectacle of myself.""

Surprisingly, he seemed to be in a foul mood, but not because of what Harry had done!

"Indeed. And a spectacular one at that."

"Spectacular, sir?"

"While I do like to think of myself as clever, flattery will get you nowhere, Potter."

Indeed, he was practically being gentle. Something really was wrong! But reflecting on something horrific having happened would wait, as his head of house flicked his fingers and summoned a chair to the side of Harry's bed. Here he sat down and took out his wand, casting a few spells before undoing the potion soaked bandages the school healer had covered the demigod's hand in before shoving him into bed.

"Ah. If I may, sir, how was what I did spectacular?"

"Are you such a dunderhead that finding a cursed artifact, in the very trophy case of Hogwarts itself, seem such an insignificant thing?"

Shaking his head, the youth answered honestly.

"No sir, not particularly. But it also doesn't seem particularly significant after all. I mean, we are wizards and aren't cursed kind of our thing?"

Looking up from where he was working on Harry's hand, Severus Snape appeared to be torn between sneering and answering honestly. And it was only after a visible effort of will that he spoke. The potions master still took the time to finish wrapping the foul smelling poultices around the now smaller boils.

"Potter, you're far from the bottom of your year so I shall say this only once. You have singled out a legendary artifact, of particular relevance to the school's legacy, uncovered that it was rather masterfully cursed, and injured yourself in a way that reveals a somewhat terrible dark secret."

The hook nosed man was even more sallow than usual, something… strange in his eyes while he looked the boy over.

"Spectacular, indeed, Potter. And just like your father too, unable to stand not being the center of attention."

Wanting to hear more about his old man, good or bad, Harry simply sat there, smiling, waiting for the professor to continue. Most adults quite liked to hear themselves speak, so he figured he had a good chance of getting what he wanted if he let Snape decide to disclose that information on his own time.

Did he know about his dad's real job?

It would be funny if he didn't.

Unfortunately, the potioneer was more than happy to complete his work in silence. Simply uninterested in making conversation, Severus performed his work swiftly and competently and was gone long before the nurse had even returned. All of it was a bit confusing to the young halfblood, but he was ultimately content to simply accept that people were weird.

And that he should endeavor not to annoy the man whom held direct authority over him.

Fawkes' BFF

Contrary to what most parents would like to believe, there was no safe learning environment when it came to magic. Rather, one could say that working with magic was the confirmation that no matter how safe the class or teaching method, there would always be the guarantee that something might go wrong.

Why, Albus still remembered when one of his friends back in third year tried to make his own recipe for an experimental batch of magical beans.

And ended up with two tongues for the rest of his life.

Obviously he ended up perfecting the sweets and went on to make a very comfortable living selling those to unsuspecting customers who would expect a nice caramel candy and ended up tasting earwax. A grave crime for which he had to prank Bertie with a trunk full of transfigured cats.

Which he was allergic to.

'Serves you right, Bertie.' The powerful wizard harrumphed as he tossed one of the magical beans into his mouth. He'd since learnt how to appreciate each one of them, even the less… palatable ones for their richness in flavor and how inventive his friend was.

Brussel sprouts.

Truly, a crime against Wizardkind.

Equally so, not all magical accidents were happy little mischiefs that could be fixed with a visit to the infirmary. Sometimes students delved into things best left behind. And many had gotten caught trying to pull some rather nasty tricks on their classmates for one reason or another.

This, however, wasn't a prank.

It wasn't a harmless trick.

It was a priceless relic tainted by genuinely black magic. A piece of Hogwarts' history turned into a cursed, harmful lump of gold that hurt a student. Left in broad daylight, in plain view of any who passed through that corridor too. Albus had an inkling of who might have been the culprit, but there was such a thing as confirming one's suspicions.

Even he couldn't pull memories from a cup.

So he did the best he could.

Young Harry's hand would be healed, having just been lightly burnt from touching the piece of cursed treasure, though Albus would make sure to leave Madam Pomfrey a note later just in case others might have been injured during the first years' little bout of boyhood roughhousing.

Though the concern was only as mild, as the headmaster knew Lucius would be charging through his door if his son had been hurt in some way.

One less headache to deal with was always a welcome surprise. Somehow the old man doubted he'd be so lucky as to avoid any other issues any time soon.

'That just leaves the immortal warrior queen.' He chuckled counting down the seconds as Fawkes, his ever loyal companion, flew up from his desk to a perch higher up the walls. Just in time to avoid the wave of… displeasure which erupted through the doors like wildfire with a sword in hand.

"I assure you, Mrs. Hippolyta. The sword is wholly unnecessary."

Angry, stern faced, a curl to the corner of her lips, and the shifting weapon in the cruciform shape of a great, two handed blade, disdain and annoyance poured off of her in nearly palpable waves. More pressing, actual waves of fire were, in fact, pouring off of the living dead woman's sword. Had Albus been a lesser wizard, it would have probably incinerated him where he sat, simply because the oppressive heat conjured up by her displeasure seemed to seek out everything it could burn.

"Mrs. Hippolyta, I'm afraid you won't be able to burn anything in the school." Coughing into his hand, the headmaster cut his eyes up to his phoenix familiar. A familiar that squawked in humor, trilling even as a few pulses of emotion flowed across their bond. Fluttering his wings, Fawkes even glided down to his perch and gave a pointed trill - almost as if to say 'Immortals are so dramatic.' "Perhaps, my friend."

The ancient Amazon was as striking as before, though no less lethal in her intent, and all the more bold as she likely knew that she stood little chance against him so far away from her own domain. Hogwarts was neutral ground after all, and that meant that he, as Headmaster, was the one who held all the cards.

Even a great warrior of the past understood.

Thus, he took her anger and plain agitation as a mark of parental concern. He'd had parents come into his office murmuring curses and jinxes before. It wasn't anything different from that, not truly, even if it was a bit flashier than most.

"What happened?" She bit out, cutting straight to the point.

"Our young charge seems to have run afoul of a cursed piece of gold while helping clean up the aftermath of his friends'... attempts at a duel. Obviously his injuries aren't serious, but the existence of something like that on school grounds is utterly unacceptable."

She sneered, lip curling angrily.

"Kindly stow your jokes, brat. Aren't you angry about this?"

Ah, Albus supposed that for someone who'd been around since A.D. was B.C., he would be like an unruly youngster. Goodness, how long ago had it been when he and his brother would get up to trouble and get an earful out of it? Good times indeed!

Even so….

"I assure you that I am, in fact, absolutely livid. If for a mixture of reasons that I doubt you would object to for the same reasons as I. But, before you ask, I do intend to do something about the situation."

Still as calm as before, the headmaster surged his own magical abilities. It was crude and Hogwarts itself had to help him, but the conjured flames were snuffed out and the immortal found herself seated. And despite, or perhaps because of, the manhandling, the act seemed to please the amazon.

"So!" she barked. "What are you going to do about it?"

Albus considered prevaricating, of giving a half truth and downplaying the totality of the significance of the situation he was in.

Keeping secrets came naturally by now.

But this Amazonian offered a totally foreign perspective on his most great of failures and one that was outside the normal realm of their conflict. So, deciding to take a gamble, he opted for a smidge of honesty.

"I will destroy the cursed item, of course, and an investigation will be made as to who donated the piece to the school. Even if they weren't aware of the curse, that is still willfully putting our students and staff in danger. You wouldn't believe the amount of cursed jewelry and off brand liquor older students bring into these walls."

"That's it?"

Albus clamped down on the urge to roll his eyes.

"It is all we can do at this stage. Obviously once the origin of the curse and whoever thought they could hide it here has come to light, the culprit will be approached and dealt with… within the confines of the law."

That clearly displeased her.

"My husband won't be happy. Never mind that Harry was hurt in the first place - for the second time too. Heracles at least managed to be a man grown before he started maiming himself and others. I think you can grasp how… frustrated he'd be that his only mortal child has been injured twice in a few months. And that no one's head is rolling for either."

Yes, such was the failing of due process. More often than not, both parties ended up leaving dissatisfied. But he could offer something, at the least.

"And If I could give you the name of the man who happened to be responsible for both? Right here, right now."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Spit it out brat. What do you want?"

Smiling sadly, he shook his head.

"A great many things. None of them within your power to grant. But you Greeks are familiar with prophecy."

Cursing, the queen let her weapon fade into a bracelet and slumped in her chair.

"The boy is under a prophecy?"

Inclining his head, Albus offered his guest a chocolate frog. Letting her bite its head off, the wizard stroked his beard and chewed on the words he wished to use. It also happened to let his guest angrily, violently chomp down on the snack - he knew it had been wise to have the house elves pick her up snacks from hogsmeade… and note down which ones Hippolyta liked best.

"I do not know."

"You don't know!?"

"That is correct, yes."

Knowing that people hated it when he did this, Albus couldn't resist smiling, simply acknowledging the statement and letting the nice lady across from him stew.

"Explain, please." Sighing, rubbing her head, the woman broke after only a few moments. "And why the Hades do your eyes twinkle?"

"Many years ago, a prophecy was given, one partly overheard by agents of the Dark Lord - Tom Riddle - and transmitted to him. It detailed the nature of the individual that would come to challenge him, and it would be a single person, and the circumstances of their birth."

"So the idiot decided to snuff out the problem in its crib." Looking deeply tired, the queen looked every inch her age for a moment. "This leads to my husband and his newest wife being murdered, my son being orphaned, and all of the nonsense surrounding that particularly frustrating fact. Only fools try to fight Fate, doubly so on half knowledge. Gods… the damage that could have been done."

"How… how is Lily? I know I have little right to ask, but I care for all of my students. That James lives, even if in another form, is a comfort. But two of my favorites were murdered because of a mistake I was largely responsible for. I would… ask after her."

Smirking, the warrior queen gave the wizard an almost lascivious grin.

"Wouldn't you like to know what we get up to, hmm? All those beautiful women, so alone without their husband, and all they have are each other and so much time." When Albus simply raised an eyebrow, unmoved and far more interested in his next lemon drop than her implications, the warrior woman snorted and waved him off. "Truthfully, she cried a lot. Heracles' human soul almost smashed down the gates of the Underworld when Hades tried to keep her in Asphodel." Standing up, Hippolyta ran a finger along Fawkes's chest, taking comfort in the warmth of the ancient faery. "She's in Elysium, with the rest of us, and we help her check in on Harry when we can. But the Lord of the Dead rarely, if ever, lets one do more than take a peek out of his domain - never mind leave it these days. In fact, had Heracles himself not called me up I wouldn't be here."

"Your husband was a rather singular man, in both of his lives."

"Indeed. How is Harry, by the way? I knew he wasn't seriously injured, I can feel his divinity enough, weak as it is, to know that much. Your house elves also explained he was in the infirmary and being seen to. It's why I came to speak with you first."

"Mimsy is a most wonderful elf, yes. And as for speaking with me, well, I do think Severus should be here soon. I asked him to personally look into the boy's injuries."

"The potions master? Makes sense, I suppose."

Frowning, Albus tilted his head forwards.

"Potions master, yes, but a bit more. And more relevant to the story, too."

"He's the one who heard the prophecy?"

Somewhat surprised at the lack of anger from the immortal, the headmaster agreed, wary of any potential outburst.

"Aye. Severus Snape was the man who heard it."

"And the one who transmitted it to Riddle."

Not bothering to deny it, he instead remained silent, choosing to let Hippolyta lead the conversation.

"You're the sort to torture people, I can tell. All that goodness and light and nonsense. You wouldn't just kill your enemies - no, you'd try to redeem them. To make them feel guilt and remorse and burn them up inside so they choke on every breath of air from the weight of their sins. Judging from his type… hmm… he loved Heracles? No, no, Lily? Severus loved Lily didn't he?"

"While I would appreciate it if my… failed romances were not discussed, I understand that my mistakes are germane to our conversation. Headmaster." Inclining his head in greeting, Severus Snape, his own lip curled in a sneer that put Hippolyta's paltry attempts to shame, stood, silent and dark as the night, stood behind the immortal.

"Ah, Severus, there you are."

Albus chuckled when the queen spun around, then back to him, visibly annoyed at the second wizard's sudden appearance.

"Potter, as he always seems to, has managed a truly unique feat of stupidity. The boy managed to cause an incredibly improbable black magical reaction. If the child had been anymore of a dunderhead and held onto the cup for any longer, it would have eaten through the skin of his fingers and gotten into his blood."

Paling, the amazonian leapt to her feet.

"By Tartarus, what do you mean eaten through his fingers! Explain! I thought it was a burn!"

"Your grace." Staring down the once again sword wielding ancient, Severus, much to Albus's great pride, simply inclined his head. "It is only a burn - but as I said, it is one caused by black magic."

"So it is as we feared?"

Looking truly, deeply sad, something that would have boggled the mind of every man, woman, and child to have ever met the potioneer, he nodded.

"Yes sir. A soul resonance and rejection."

Snarling, clothes burning away in a flash, the restored soul stood there clad in bronze armor. Her red hair fanned out behind her, the ends burning with living flames, as grey eyes seemed to glare out from beneath her twisting helm.

"Enough! Explain, swiftly, the boy's soul will not be played with."

Neither man flinched, even if Snape stumbled a little under the wave of power pouring off of the spirit. Albus, however, raised a hand, and beckoned the small cup of Helga Hufflepuff to him.

"When the last owner of this cup was murdered, one of her heirs presented this trinket to the board of governors." Holding it up, he smiled, a tired, sad thing. "I do wonder who it was, even if I have a few suspicions, but the more pressing fact of the matter… is that this is a Horcrux. And so is your son."