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An Old and New World
by Lens of Sanity
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Chapter Eleven: An Owl or a Cat or a Toad
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Two days after Tam's arrival at Hogwarts, Harry found himself alone in his private rooms late in the evening, looking out of his window at the large red ball of a slowly setting sun. He wasn't really thinking about anything much, just sitting and watching in silence while sipping slowly on a glass of firewhiskey. A dark haired young woman eventually strode in as if she owned the place and sat down across from him in what was clearly a seductive pose, lithe form stretched out emphasising the her long legs and impressive curves.
Harry looked her over, and in an offhand tone stated, "That time of the month again is it Trace?"
"What?" the Slytherin girl asked in a confusion which snapped her out of her alluring little act. Harry just offered her a half smile.
"Do you really think it's a coincidence that every time you just happen to decide to come find me, I'm clean shaven and have just gotten out of the shower?"
Looking uncertain now the girl shifted her weight a little and Harry waved her over, brushing callused fingertips ever so lightly across her shear gown.
"Am I really so predictable?"
"Kind of. It has been over five weeks since I saw you last, so I'd say you'll be back in twenty two days." He went on biting her neck for a while before he continued. "Maybe you should get yourself a real boyfriend Tracy. That verdurous princess of yours seems pretty happy with that Digby guy."
"Diggory..." she corrected for the hundredth time, "and she isn't mine. Besides, who would I get Harry? The only person in this school who could compete with our illustrious Head Boy is you, and you are out for obvious reasons."
"I'd make a terrible boyfriend." agreed Harry.
"No," Tracy corrected with an indelicate snort. "You're out because you are clearly still head over heels for that Fleur Delacour girl."
"I am not!" he growled, "I wish people would stop saying that."
The two went back to what they were doing for a while before the woman tentatively requested, "Will you put me under the Imperius Curse again Harry?" At his look she batted her eyelashes in an exaggerated way, wheedling, "Please?"
The man sighed a little before his kiss elicited Tracy's characteristic moan of pleasure.
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Harry was standing in the observation room, overlooking the vista of autumnal flora far below, as way off in the distance the forest burned. There was a shuddering clatter as a breaking drill enchantment slammed into the wards, and he could feel the impact through his bare feet, sky-blue nail polish immaculate as he wiggled his chilly toes.
With a flick of his long blonde hair, he raised a delicate hand, three longest fingers outstretched, and with a twitch the order was sent. Squads two and three rushed passed him, a full speed sprint as they dove into the open air, shrunken brooms rescinding their enchantments as mottled grey ballistic fabric showed beneath their robes.
"Squad One, with me!" he commanded, soft alto not displaying the least regard or fear in the face of this clusterfuck. "C'mon, you wanna live forever!"
With three bounding steps Harry jumped, one foot on the railing to push himself high in the air, before a twisting tumble sent him hurting toward the distant ground. Cracked ceramic plate digging into his left breast where the repair charms had doubtlessly failed following his clumsy run-in with an enhanced sniper round three days previously.
Wind whipping his hair about him as he reached terminal velocity, Harry couldn't help feeling the level of despondency creeping up on him, the feeling that they were just going through the motions at this point... that the team he was leading contained only one member whose name he even knew, the fact of it, sapping what little morale Harry had left.
He'd never been much use on a broom, but this... this skill, was something else. A flickering explosion of magic cascaded out from his body, shadow, smoke, and freedom, all coalescing into perfect clarity as his plummeting fall mutated into a soaring flight, bare inches before the soft warming embrace of terra firma could claim him.
Self-propelled, overland flying.
No broom or magic carpet required.
One day he might wait an instant too long before pulling up, and on that day, that dive would be his last. But that day was not today. And as the rest of the squad formed up behind him, drafting in Harry's wake, he flashed silver-bright eyes backwards to see the heartbreaking sight of his home burning down, and tumbling from the sky.
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Waking with his arms still snaked round the beautiful snake Harry almost let out an audible groan, blinking in confusion as he wrestled himself from the dream world back into the real world. Or what he hoped was the real world at any rate.
What in the seven hell's had that been?
Harry had been... a woman? And worse yet, blonde? Harry didn't think he'd ever experienced such a combination of suicidal emotions and horniness before, though it'd certainly been interesting, plummeting to his death with a tingling feeling of his va-
Well, dreams were weird, best not think on them too much.
Tracy awoke a short time later, as the cobweb fine lines of dream and memory slipped away and dissolved, just as dreams were always wont to do, and about ninety minutes of morning exercise after that, when the dark beauty was heading out of the door Harry asked, "Twenty two days, or are you going to think about what I said?"
"I'll at least think about it Harry," was Tracy's only response, offered with a slight smile as she exited the room.
Damn, I wish I could say I hate to see her leave, but with a view like that it would be such a lie.
As he made his way toward the Room of Requirement a while later Harry was once more thinking on his scar. During her recent stay in the Hospital Wing they'd had a conversation, and Hermione noticed that his scar was actually smaller than it had been. To ensure it was not simply imagination they had closely inspected this claim using Pensieve memories, and discovered she'd been absolutely correct. The shape was still there, and as the stotting headaches continued the Horcrux was obviously still present. But it was thinner and definitely far less pronounced.
What this meant, if it meant anything at all, was a mystery. Although Harry liked the idea that each time Voldemort died it somehow diminished the amount of enemy soul he was carrying around on his forehead. It really was a shame that this theory was almost certainly untrue, because changeover headaches and mindlink connections would surely decrease if such a thing was happening.
Nevertheless, even if they had no idea what was actually going on, something weird was clearly happening.
Stepping into the room Harry found that he was annoyed he'd thought of it as a 'mindlink,' when he'd grown so fond of calling the thing a Soul Bond connection much to everyone's dismay. A romance with Voldemort would make a great book right? All star-crossed and crazy. I'd be great.
As his thoughts returned to the present Harry noticed with unease that Albus was standing in the room, talking with Tamsyn, and apparently discussing 'overland flight' sans the necessity of a broomstick or magic carpet.
"Erm-, Voldemort can fly without a broom?" Harry uncertainly asked.
"Yes," the old man replied, matching his hesitation, anteing up a strange look of own in response. "Why is this so extraordinary Harry?"
"I, it's just, I had this dream-..." realising that explaining this dream would probably not be a good idea, Harry swiftly cut himself off. "What's going on today? Your illustrious headmasterness finally decide to take a more active role in our schooling?"
"In a manner of speaking," replied Albus. "I've been informed that you are continuing your forays into the forbidden world that is the Dark Arts, and simply wished to observe in order to ensure you are doing so safely."
"You could help you know," said Harry, moving over to where Luna and Bellatrix were chatting together on the far side of the room. "Bet you anything you know all kinds of crazy Dark Magic that the public doesn't know you know about."
"I know, that they don't know that I know?" muttered Albus, pinching the bridge of his nose at the nascent headache.
Pretty innocent Bella and the fourth year Raven turned toward him as he approached, their conversation apparently coming to a stopping point. "Think you can teach me Devil's Fire Bella? It was in the middle of one of Flighty's spell‑strings but because of your warning I never attempted it." Then, after a pause to think. "Or Fiendfyre? Or Demon's Light? Or Ik-thah's Bane?"
"Uh-huh," said Bellatrix, raising an eyebrow at him and suppressing her flickering smile. "Would you like me to fetch some deadly, deadly poison to add to your morning coffee? Or perhaps volley some Killing Curses? Both are splendid means with which to begin your day."
"Ah," said Harry, "Bad idea?"
"Bad idea," agreed Bella with a kindly smile.
"Why do you always call the Dark Lord 'Flighty' Harry?" Surprisingly enough this interruption was from Luna, which was just odd because the girl almost always knew what Harry was going on about, even when nobody else did. "You've been doing it for ages and I've never been able to figure out why."
"Well it's his anagram isn't it?" He frowned in thought as Tam and the others met up, all strolling toward their part of the room. "Voldemort is a cobbled together word in French meaning something along the lines of 'Flight from Death,' or 'Theft of Death' or something. Right?" the room kind of nodded at this, and Harry went on. "But because I keep killing the guy and because it annoys the hell out of him I came up with Flighty. 'Cos he's like a ditzy little girl obsessed with teenaged boys. And it annoys the hell out of him... did I mention that yet?"
Bella looked scandalised for a moment before breaking into giggles. Eventually she came back and answered the original question. "Yes, I can teach you Devil's Fire I suppose. But you know the problems with Dark Art's don't you? They actually are dangerous. That curse is Class Seven and covered by the Interdict of Merlin mainly because if someone does it wrong the magic will explode and they would be lucky if only the caster died."
"What about Dragonfyre?" suggested Harry instead. "That's something I saw cast by one of the Death Eaters maybe? During the Department of Mysteries fight."
"Would you teach me Dark Magic Bellatrix?" Tan callously interrupted. "I am actually quite skilled but if I am correct in my assumptions Voldemort taught you virtually everything he knew, meaning you are almost certainly further along than I."
Harry, after quashing his initial annoyance at the interruption, decided this request made a lot of sense given that she was really only a teenager herself, and that she didn't and couldn't actually know any of the magic Voldemort had learned after he left Hogwarts. Bellatrix looked at the redhead seriously for a while, her normally playful attitude from earlier noticeably absent.
"What may I ask is the most powerful Dark Arts spell you can control?"
"Fiendfyre." Tam answered immediately. "Which is Class Eleven Dark Magic. I convinced my seventh year Defence instructor to teach me it and can fully harness its power...," After a brief pause she went on. "Being able to command Fiendfyre without allowing it to become unrestrained should prove I am capable, do you not agree?"
Bella's purple eyes locked onto Harry and he just said, "You're the expert here so it's completely up to you. I'll probably not be the best at the Dark Arts but I don't mind if you teach her, she seems to be on our side."
"Okay. Sirius, cousin mine, could you take Yellow and the bushy haired girl, and go play somewhere else." The individuals named protested of course, but with a glare promising pain Bellatrix stated, "Dragonfyre, even if it is a lower tier spell, is still covered by the Interdict of Merlin. You three are not ready to learn it, please leave so I can instruct."
"Ms. Black is indeed correct Sirius, Ms. Granger..." injected the Headmaster. "This magic is treacherous, I am quite glad she is taking her tuition seriously."
Harry nodded to the old man in gratitude, eventually once they were beneath powerful privacy charms Bellatrix started. "The wand motions are quite simple, and as good a place to start as any. We will begin with a Novák division, as follows..."
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"Valyrio Dracarys!"
It was incanted silently of course, this was not the kind of magic a person went around bellowing at the top of one's lungs, yet Harry had been having trouble getting into the correct mental state and he hadn't wanted to actually attempt casting it until he was confident he wouldn't kill everybody screwing it up.
The tightly controlled carmine wave zoomed outward, washing into and over the stationary target when Harry eventually cast it correctly, five hours after they had begun. Tam bloody Riddle had gotten it down in under twenty minutes, yet watching the wooden figure as it was finally consumed in his cursed fire was not particularly pleasant. At seven syllables and an intermittent twitchy wandmotion, it was a relatively slow casting spell, but it was the effect on the caster which Harry didn't like...
Some Dark Magic made the caster feel good, powerful, able to take on the world. And it was those reasons they are considered Dark, because their addictive nature was liable to make the weak willed go too far and end up hurting people who they were not intending to hurt.
The spell of Dragonfyre did not feel good. It felt corrupting, like it was attacking his sanity, wishing for his destruction. Because it wasn't a hex of Dragon's Fire, which Harry already knew from Sirius, a relatively obscure but still mainstream piece of combat magic. No, it was Dragonfyre... which was a Black Curse.
Not the same thing at all.
"You finally got it." Riddle unnecessarily stated. "A good spell, from what I understand it is powerful, and the wounds it inflicts on those lucky enough to survive are virtually unhealable." When Harry didn't respond she went on. "I hear you have a Pensieve memory which shows how to produce an emerald construct in the shape of a Hydra. Would you share it with me Harry?"
"You are fascinated in the Dark Arts aren't you Tam?" Harry listened for a long while as she went on about what was clearly the woman's favourite subject. After a time he got tired of listening to the virtues and brilliance of the Dark Arts, and just decided to pull out the big strand of memory and toss it into the rune inscribed dish. "Maybe you can figure out how to make one of those Hydras, but I think I've just given up on learning it."
"Bellatrix is actually quite the gifted teacher. Perhaps I will be up to dispatching my other self in no time at all, and you can truly stay out of this war altogether."
Harry just rolled his eyes, "We should have a duel. I wouldn't mind a crack at someone other than Sirius who is competent... This time next week?"
"Sounds good to me." she answered, a brilliant smile gracing her face as she dove into the Pensieve.
Harry went back over to Luna and Hermione, plonking down next to them on a beanbag chair. "I think I'm going to stick with mostly less horrible spells from now on, so you guys should be able to join me."
"You use the Killing Curse and 'Crucio' all the time Harry, magic doesn't get much darker than that." protested Hermione. When Harry just smiled she huffed and went on, "We have come up with another idea‑"
"I'm still not fighting Voldemort remember?" He cut in.
"You won't even have to leave the castle, and Professor Dumbledore said that if I could convince you to do it, it should be on the fifth of November coinciding with one of his plans. Apparently any distraction on that day will help the war effort."
"Okay Hermione," he began, and even though it flew against his instincts, and directly in the face of current policy, he asked, "What have you guys come up with?"
She had the look of having gotten a question right in transfiguration, indicating that she was very proud of her idea. "Your mindlink connection with Voldemort, you said that sometimes he can experience something powerful enough to break through your Occlumency correct?"
"Y‑eah?" he confusedly confirmed.
"Is there any reason it can't work both ways?"
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Harry was kicking back listening with half an ear as Professor Vector outlined an absurdly simple Arithmancy concept, hardly concealing the level of humour he felt at how much trouble Hermione was having grasping the work. He idly scratched Bellatrix behind the ears, admiring the guttural growl‑like purrs coming from her feline form.
The professors, whose classes Harry bothered to show up to anyway, were in universal agreement that a Bengal tiger was not allowed in their classrooms, and should not even be in a school full of children at all. However when Harry claimed that she was his familiar, and that they had no choice as to whether or not she accompanied him wherever he went, they had unanimously agreed that the school rules prevented tigers from being a student's pet.
In an uncharacteristic display of foresight Harry had taken to carrying around the first piece of owl post he'd received from Hogwarts. The one delivered to him personally by Hagrid back on his eleventh birthday. And quite clearly in the section which marked what made a suitable familiar, were the bold and damning words written in Minerva McGonagall's own hand:
'Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad'
And given that a white Royal Bengal tiger was in actual fact a cat the professors as a whole simply groaned, appealed to the Headmaster, and were promptly informed that Harry was to be allowed to bring his familiar with him to all his lessons.
"I simply cannot believe Professor Dumbledore lets you get away with‑, with, everything!" Hermione stated for the hundredth time.
Harry chuckled again, "What can I say? It's the good old fashioned Potter charm. How are you coming along with the easy little maths problem Hermione, would you like some help?"
"No thank you..." she primly stated, "I am getting it fine. I do not need your assistance."
"You used to pretty much do most of my homework when we were younger. I really don't mind." Looking down at the girl's parchment he laughed and said, "Besides, you are working with a false assumption, you will never get the correct answer doing it that way."
Hermione looked over her previous work and could find no fault. After taking the time for a moan of dismay she said, "I don't understand how you can find this so simple. I know this is basically above OWL level, but I should be able to grasp the concept if you can."
Harry toyed with the idea of teasing her some more, but on a whim decided against it. "Do you think I should take Angelina up on her, not offer, demand maybe... on her demand that I play on her Quidditch team?" The non sequitur threw his friend for a moment, fully breaking her concentration.
"I don't know Harry, do you even want to play?" and as he was about to he respond in turn, she interrupted, "What am I doing wrong, it looks fine to me, how come I can't get the right answer?"
Harry threw out his Quidditch thoughts, an athletic baby in bathwater, and taking her quill and parchment in hand, set about explaining where she was going wrong.
At lesson's end Hermione was shaking her head, irascible female nature coming to the fore. "How can you just understand these things so easily, and don't give me any of that 'boys are better than girls' rubbish."
"When it comes to Arithmancy we are." he stuck out his tongue and Bella growled a little, "But other than that, you are falling into the same trap as the rest of the students. You keep thinking of magic and the universe as if it's a standard three dimensional Euclidean geometry, when it's obviously more like a saddle shape that's been animated across the M‑Axis."
"What does that have to do with today's problem though?"
"Well not much, that was more a meta example. Today you just had to picture the problem as an n7 hypercube and the answer became obvious."
Hermione looked as though she was fighting back the beginnings of a headache, which was totally Harry's intention, when she said, "How could you possibly picture a‑"
"Hey Luna..." Harry interrupted, noticing his other friend, "Did you get any of that Blazing Inferno Hellfire Sauce we were talking about?"
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Harry woke from his coma in the Hospital Wing once again, only this time he had a long straw-like tube stuffed down his throat. An extended coughing fit, and a violent tube removal later Harry asked, "How's it going Poppy, how long was I out this time?"
"What in heaven's name possessed you to eat a meal which, if my reports are accurate, was infused with the Fires of Hell?"
"It was a phaal, they're supposed to be spicy." Harry complained. "Besides, Sirius had to go all the way to Newcastle to find one 'coz you can't buy them in the wizarding world for some reason."
"For some reason... yes, I cannot imagine why."
"So how long was I out?"
Poppy was clearly deciding whether or not to answer her idiotic patient's idiotic questions. Then after Harry just looked at her, big innocent eyes shining in obvious manipulation, the healer grumbled, "Fourteen days this time. From what I understand of the monstrous concoction you ingested, you should count yourself lucky."
"Can I add the condiment to my normal rotation now? My research said that if I survived, then I should be more or less immune to spicy foods." Harry asked hopefully, he was really developing a taste of this type of thing. Or at least he'd thought he was. Before he blacked out anyway.
Luna came walking in a short while later, in her hand a spell reinforced lead container with a clearview charm on it, allowing an easy sightline the small bottle contained within. The thing was red, had a skull with pain filled expression on the front, and was surrounded in flames. Overall it looked quite safe, and Harry now knew the sauce tasted gorgeous.
"It worked." The blonde informed without preamble. "Professor Snape was in a Death Eater meeting at the time. Apparently the Dark Lord started coughing up blood and screaming around the same time you ate your lunch."
"Did he die again?"
"No, but it was just proof of concept so I don't think we need to worry too much about that." Harry got out of bed eventually and walked out with his friend, when she informed, "Bellatrix has been quite worried about you, she's been moping around the castle since she found out you were going to be fine."
Harry just nodded then asked, "Anything else I miss?"
"St. Mungo's was attacked while you were unconscious and I believe the Death Eaters stole virtually all the healing potions and medical supplies. Random attacks on Muggles are going strong, and Tamsyn is still spending most of her time either in the Room of Requirement or with Headmaster Dumbledore."
Harry supposed that made sense, those two actually seemed to be interested in the war. Ever since she'd decided to stay Tam had taken to wandering through the castle under powerful Illusion so as not to be accosted by any of the Weasley family, slightly altered face shape and hair colour making her unrecognisable. Neither Harry, Albus, nor Tam herself could bring themselves to actually tell the Weasleys what had happened, nor were they in any rush for that to change.
"Did anyone come up with a better method of becoming an animagus?" asked Harry after a long while. "All that boring meditation crap and agonising partial transfigurations ain't exactly my bag."
"Ain't exactly your bag?" Luna grinned, a smile wide and playful. "Yes actually, Sirius finally came up with the idea to just ask Professor McGonagall and she said there was a Ritual of Release which should work."
"Okay, but if nobody has ever heard of it there must be some kind of catch." Harry pointed out.
As they turned a corner Luna said, "It's a potion, and the thing is a Master's Brew, and the ingredients for the ritual would apparently cost around two thousand Galleons."
The dark haired fifth year whistled at the enormous price tag. "What's that in Muggle? Like a hundred grand or something?" He asked rhetorically, "I'm still going to do it though. No way in hell am I disciplined enough to learn it the long way."
After that Harry was quiet, lost in thought on the stroll back to his room, with his new favourite condiment under his arm. "It will be the fifth in a few days right?"
"Four days Harry."
"Right, well seeing as the Hellfire Sauce worked, I think I know what I'm going to do to top it." He said, parting from the blonde at his door. Harry wasn't certain, and he wasn't going to ask, but he got the distinct impression the girl leaving his side was not actually Luna Lovegood.
When eventually informed that her disguise hadn't worked Tonks lost such a huge bet.
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It was a cold dark and stormy night in November, and Voldemort was reclining on his large obsidian throne. The town was finished for the most part, it had taken him and his two adjuncts more than three weeks of constant work to get the multiple layers of wards and ward schemes up to his exacting standards. He had even cracked one of his old supply caches for rare and powerful rune stones.
His Death Eaters had begun calling the place 'The City of the Dead' which Voldemort found amusing, and so had allowed the name to stand.
Recruiting had been a high priority and was going to remain so until he was back to full strength, but the Inner Circle who avoided Azkaban during his time side-tracked in Valbonë Valley had been well prepared on the day of his first rebirth, and had already been in possession of a detailed plan to bring more numbers to their cause. For the most part the purebloods were a pack of Muggle fearing fools, but they did have influence and a misdirected longing for a return to what they believed to be their golden age.
Lord Voldemort knew that magical power, skill with a wand, and talent were far more important in reality than who ones parents happened to be. However the pureblood movement was aligned with his goals for now, the warm bodies and influence they brought to his cause making them very useful tools on his inevitable rise to power.
He had done what he could to complete the forest around his new town also. However he had been frustrated in that the forest's guardian had not yet spawned. For once it did his defences would be as impenetrable as any location in the world. Not rivalling the Castle Fortress of Hogwarts of course, for that had two intersecting Lay Lines and a thousand years' worth of students powering it, but a potent defence nevertheless.
Lucius strode in confidently interrupting the Dark Lord's musings, flanked as ever by his twin bodyguards. The man had been performing his duties quite admirably, at least he had ever since recovering from his session of correction under the masterful wand of his sister in law. Voldemort had not been pleased to learn of the use to which the man put his Diary, however he would admit that allowing him to live had been a good decision.
"Yes?" Voldemort intoned to the blond man as he knelt in front of his Lord.
Lucius rose and gestured to one of his companions, "My Lord, it is well known that you are always on the lookout for any relics of the founders, and of Salazar Slytherin in particular."
"Indeed," He stated, his distinctive hiss surprisingly interested. "Go on Lucius, enlighten me as to why you are not preparing for tomorrow's Wizengamot meeting."
One of the bodyguards opened a leather-bound jewellery case, displaying a treasure of insurmountable value, and Voldemort almost laughed.
Ah Regulus, you were not as successful as you once thought yourself it would seem.
"You have done well Lucius," said the Dark Lord, caressing the Horcrux he had thought lost with the boy Draco's hands. "Where did you come across such a prize?"
"I have dealings with an Arranger. Even though I must consort with a filthy goblin to do so, I ensure that there are always people on the lookout for items which may prove interesting."
So it was that Regulus managed to bypass the protections, and then had somehow lost the item he'd sacrificed his life to steal. Then failed to have the locket destroyed. And eventually someone sold it for a paltry pile of Galleons. Voldemort shook his head, fate it would seem, had such a dark sense of humour.
"You have done very well and you will be rewarded Lucius. Now leave, prepare for tomorrow. We cannot allow what Dumbledore plans to be successful. Send someone to bring me the fool, it appears as though he may prove useful after all."
Before the blond man left Voldemort tore down his occluded mind, then performed a very complex memory charm, removing the knowledge of precisely what he had offered his Lord, further imbedding a command against thinking overmuch about this evenings events. It would not do for anyone to piece together the importance of the locket, with what he planned to do with it.
An hour later Voldemort was working on the fool, he had cruciated the irritating smile from the man's face before he even began, and was now deeply involved in the process. On the stroke of midnight, not one second into the fifth of November, Lord Voldemort's world exploded in agonising pain.
It did not let up for twenty hours.
He abandoned the boy's body mere seconds before it would have failed, a reward to Lucius for his admirable work in recent days.
Disembodied spirits can apparently, given the right set of circumstances, carry with them the lasting ache of a migraine.