Harbinger of Destiny: Herald of Fate

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not claim rights on anything you have seen before, merely the characters and plotlines that you have not.

The real hero is always a hero by mistake; he dreams of being an honest coward like everybody else.

Umberto Eco

Ron's life had changed drastically during the years following his friend's disappearance. It had been a gradual change. At first he had been able to keep a solid hold of his usual demeanor as he held out hope that Harry would be found. Half a year passed and that hope began to dwindle. Then they had found the remains of Cedric Diggory's body–in a cemetery no less–and hope all but died.

The friendship he had maintained with Hermione, even during those last optimistic months, had withered and died after that particular discovery. They were equally at fault for that. Ron had withdrawn deep into himself, matured by loss as he could not have been by any other experience, and Hermione had reaffirmed the comfort she had taken from solitude in her youth.

They still exchanged pleasantries, even had small conversations, but being near each other was too strained, tense and awkward, and seemed to reenforce the reality that the third of their trio was not with them.

His family had been supportive, but they were dealing with their own grief. Ginny hadendured sudden fits of depression, even undergoing grief counseling at St. Mungo's for a month during the summer following her fourth year. She was better now, but still prone to sudden fits of despair. It struck Ron how much he had been oblivious to the budding relationship between his sister and his best friend when Harry had still been around. He had been oblivious to a lot of things back then, and it hurt him to see his sister in pain.

It did not help that no body was found, allowing some of the more stubborn members of Harry's small family, namely his distraught godfather, to cling to hope that Harry still might be found. It did not help that Dumbledore was in denial and refused to allow a memorial service, fearing the panic that would spread through the Wizarding community if Harry was proclaimed dead. It did not help that some could not accept the truth and allow the rest some closure.

Ron knew it was time to start looking forward. To make new friends, enjoy the last year of his schooling, and plan for his future. And he wanted to. But aside from his immediate friendship with Harry, and his passionate, if sometimes controversial, relationship he had once shared with Hermione, Ron did not make friends easily.

As a pureblood wizard he had not had much contact with the muggle children who lived near his house. Not able to understand them and their ways, it was preferred that the Weasley children stay close to home and their magical heritage. Not being well-respected purebloods made it hard to form relationships with magical children.

Bill had a certain suave charm about him that had always allowed him to make friends easily. Charlie and his easygoing manner made him naturally amiable and he seemed to attract people, especially girls, like honey does bees. Percy...well Percy was Percy and his ambition was enough social fulfillment for him. Fred and George had each other, and their reckless abandon, instead of making them off-limits, acted the same way as Bill's charm. And Ginny had always been a social butterfly.

But Ron? It was harder. When he had befriended Harry on the train, thoughts of forming relationships with his other classmates seemed to slide into the background. And forming tight bonds in later schooling? Harder.

People tend to form quick friendships in boarding school, as they are tucked away from other people and must depend upon those around them for support. But that same quickness acted in reverse as well. The students formed such tight bonds so quickly that for one to enter into a close friendship later on was incredibly difficult.

But it was time to take one step out the door of his closed heart. He had grieved for Harry. Mourned him for years following his disappearance. Harry would always hold that special place within Ron's heart as his very first and closest friend. He would never forget him, and he would always honor his memory. But it was, regardless, time to concentrate on his own life now.

Harry fought the urge to shift uncomfortably as he stood on guard in the potions dungeon he was so familiar with from his own Hogwarts days. To distract himself he focused instead on the people sharing his master's potions class. It was NEWT Potions with the Slytherins and Gryffindors, so of course Neville was no where in sight. Neither was Seamus or Lavender. But Dean and Parvati worked quietly in the corner, desperately attempting to avoid the professor's wrath. Hermione, of course, was there as well, and, most surprisingly, so was Ron, sitting quite close to his master.

He avoided looking at the two as much as he could, given Ron's close proximity to his master and tried to turn his thoughts away from his former friends. It was no use to dwell on the past. They didn't know he was there, in the same room as them, and they couldn't, wouldn't. The bodyguard kept their hoods up at all times. It made it that much easier if they weren't recognizable should they take their hoods off. It made the master more secure.

Of course, if Harry took off his hood, he would be easily recognizable. The only human in a mass of Elves, and the lightning bolt scar that had never faded. Harry shook himself away from those thoughts and surveyed the room with keen eyes, checking for any threats to his master, as ludicrous as that thought might seem, and turned his musings to the Slytherins.

There were surprisingly few Slytherins that had made the necessary OWL to advance to NEWT Potions. Draco Malfoy was there of course, and his master, Millicent Bulstrode, and, incredibly, Gregory Goyle.

They were brewing a variation of the Dreamless Sleep potion currently, a difficult potion by any means, but one with plenty of interludes for quiet conversation as the students waited to add the next ingredient.

The Slytherins had crowded at the two front tables, each doing their own individual potions. Ron sat at a table to his master's left, and Malfoy sat to his right. Hermione was behind Ron's table, a seating arrangement that Harry found odd... had his two best friend's friendship dissipated in his absence?

"Really Weasley," a voice broke Harry out of his reverie, and, instinctively he readied himself for a fight, when he realized that he did not have the right to defend his friend unless his master so ordered him. Snape bore down on Ron. "You are to stir counterclockwise, which means in the opposite direction that you are currently stirring. Is that concept incomprehensible to you? Or are you still incapable of acting intelligently without Potter's overbearing presence?"

Harry sucked in a breath as he saw Ron's hands clench around the ladle he was stirring his cauldron with, but instead of the fight he had anticipated, Ron merely altered the direction of his stirring, saving his potion from ruin. Snape stood over him for a second, before moving on. It seemed Ron had apparently taken Harry's place as Snape's scapegoat.

He was brought suddenly out of his musings by his former rival's posh voice. The wizard had been shooting envious looks at harry and the other guard, Devon, stationed in the room-the other two stood watch over Allenia, who was less prone to trouble-and now asked his master in an expectant voice, "What is it like to have so many people at your beck and call Amin?"

Harry's master winced at the familiarity of the Slytherin using his first name but answered in cool tones. "I expect it is much the same as having house elves at yours."

If Harry had not been so hardened to insults over the past years he would have been offended with being compared to a house elf, but, as it was, he merely let a stiletto drop to his hand, prepared to do his job and defend his master should Malfoy take offense to the answer.

Draco merely waved Amin's answer off, looking speculative and intensely curious. "Yes but these are people," and now the bastard looked excited-probably wanting some Elvish slaves of his very own, Harry thought-"Slaves. And you have complete control over them."

By now most of the class was caught up in the conversation, stirring their potions at intervals to avoid a glower from Snape. But the Potions Master was as enraptured by the conversation as everyone else, though, Harry noted with surprise, his hands were subtly clenched and his eyes slitted. He obviously did not approve of slavery. That made sense of course, because he was, in all but name, doubly enslaved to Voldemort and Dumbledore. But the Potions Master held his tongue.

Harry focused his concentration on the conversation instead of the class now. English was his mother-tongue of course, but he had been completely surrounded by the Elvish language for three years. Few Elves spoke English, and the only one Harry had met during his first year had been the cruel trainer who had taught him to speak Elvish, beating him at any use of English. And after almost three years completely immersed in another language and not daring to speak his own tongue aloud, he had less of a grasp on it than he ever had before. In fact, Allenia and Amin were more fluent with it than he, having undergone months of training to learn it in preparation for coming to Hogwarts. Being around English speaking people helped, but he still had to give it a lot of concentration.

Amin seemed to have given his response much consideration. "Yes, House Elves are much less useful than slaves, but there are also benefits of having House Elves. For one thing, they are obedient by nature while it may take months to break a slave into submission." He cocked a head in Harry's direction. "That one, I am told, who now serves as the Head of my bodyguard, took a year and a half to break, an unusually long time."

People looked at Harry now, and he once again resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably. Some muttered amongst themselves, too fast for Harry to make out the English, but he caught the gist of it. They were surprised that he was the head of the bodyguard. He looked neither muscular enough-those he did have being hidden underneath his very loose robes-and was also the shortest of the slaves, standing only 5'8.

Amin continued, adding the bicorn horn to his potion at exactly the right time. "Some slaves of course, having been born as such, are easier to control, as they know no other life. Some, like him," he nodded at Harry again and Harry was amused by how his master had no clue that he understood what was being said-Amin knew he was human of course, but believed all slaves spoke only Elvish, "were captured during conflict and take a longer time to break."

Draco nodded his understanding. "Yes, but once they are accustomed to such a life, surely they accept it?"

Amin snorted. "Would you wantonly accept enslavement?" he asked Draco, and the boy quickly shook his head in the negative. "I thought not. Besides, there is always the risk of rebellion, even after the initial breaking. That one," and he pointed a lazy finger at Harry, "caused the scar which mars my brow in one of his numerous attempts to escape."

Draco's eyes flickered to the scar running across Amin's eyebrow and then to the slave in question. "He was suitably punished of course?"

"He would have been put to death if he wasn't so valuable," his master said. "As it was, he was...reeducated...and returned to me when he was broken enough so that I could control him."

Draco looked ready to say something else when, all of a sudden another voice broke in. "Reeducated, broken, disgusting terminology to use for living, breathing people. Can't you see how wrong this is?"

Harry's heart dropped. It was Hermione who had spoken, appealing to the Gryffindors around her, but they avoided her gaze. Ron shot her a warning look, which she promptly ignored in the midst of her tirade. The room became deathly quiet, even Snape shocked into silence by the girl's gall. And after all the lengths the Headmaster had gone to warn them about not antagonizing the Elves.

Amin turned to face the human girl slowly, his face hardened and his mouth in a taut line. "You should not speak about what you do not understand girl," he said in a deathly tone, and Hary felt his stomach lurch at the warning. Please Hermione, just accept it, he thought, to no avail.

"What is there not to understand?" she questioned pertly. "You take people and you form them into your unwilling servants, using any means necessary to assure their subservience. It is a disgusting practice." Snape shook his head irately at the girl's words and hurried over to cut off the conversation which was quickly entering onto dangerous territory, when Amin responded.

"It is the way of our culture," Amin snapped back. "Slaves have, and always will, remain a part of the Elvinculture.Some ofthem come as prizes of war, they having fought against us, so they are not as innocent as you seem to think."

This did not appease Hermione. "So the price for their difference of opinion is a life of licking your boots. You Elves are truly disgusting."

Harry winced as Amin's aura flared almost palpably. He would not take well to an insult on his people. It happened in almost slow motion. Amin raised his arm, emitting a blinding glow and shot it at Hermione. Harry had no time to think and merely acted, and dashed in front of Hermione.

HIs master looked fit to kill when Harry dared look up, as one of his own slaves absorbed the shock of the Elvish magic intended for the human girl. It was an elemental shock, a curse which most Elves, with their high tolerance of magic, were accustomed to, but one which a human might find mortally dangerous.

Harry, having been taught in elemental magic extensively during his training to become the head of the bodyguard, calmly accepted the magic into his essence before allowing it to dissipate into the wards surrounding Hogwarts, where it could do little harm.

Amin's eyes glazed over and Harry knew instinctively taht he was telepathically communicating with Kabul and that the Overseer would soon be down to deal with the miscreant slave.

Chancing a glance around the rest of the room he found most of the room staring at him in stunned silence. Ron stood a foot or two away, he as well coming to Hermione's aid, and, had Harry not interfered, would have shielded Hermione a second too late. Snape was glaring at Amin behind his back but, feeling Harry's gaze on him, adjusted his glance to stare sorrowfully at Harry. Obviously he knew, if no one else, what Harry was likely about to endure for his heroics. Always did have that hero-complex, Harry mused, though deeper inside he was frightened at what was about to happen to him.

The door slammed open, emitting a red-faced Kabul and the tall, wiry figure of Freelasco, Amin's Guardian. Kabul took one look at the situation and let loose a hearty growl. "Aloferso draman lee peterosco?" he questioned Amin. What manner of disobedience is this?

"I did not order him to protect her," he said, switching the spoken language to English so those around could understand. It would give them an acknowledgement of what particular crime Harry had committed as well as not allow-in Amin's mind- the slave to understand what they were saying about him.

"I see," Kabul said gruffly, pulling out a two-foot long chain. Harry's heart beat wildly. Kabul drew Harry away from Hermione roughly, pulling up the sleeves of his robe to reveal the golden cuffs that all slaves wore, and connected the chain to the hooks attached to either cuff. Then he pulled Harry out of the room.

When the slave and that massive man left the room, Snape hurriedly dismissed the class, fleeing to the Headmaster's office to discuss what had happened in his Potion's class. When he had finished, Dumbledore's eyes looked weary and bare.

"There is little I can do Severus," he said patiently, if tiredly.

"I recognized that magic that Amin used," Snape said belligrently. "If it had hit the Granger girl she would be terribly if not fatally injured. The slave stopped the idiots death at his master's hands. Surely you can do something."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It is not our place to interfere in the matters of Elvish slaves," he said. "If that heroic act was seen as some sort of treason, then we must allow the Elves to mete out the punishment. Hermione has risked much with this venture."

"Albus, you must convince that girl to watch her tongue," Snape said. "If not for her misplaced words, none of this would have happened. If she cannot control herself then she will have to be excused from my Potion's classes."

The headmaster nodded his head. "I will have a talk with Miss Granger. I suspect she does not realize how far-reaching her actions will be. She will learn to keep her opinions to herself, or to express them in a way that is not so...pointed."

Personally the Potions Master didn't think that was nearly enough, but he nodded his head anyway. He stood to go and paused at the door. "From my experience with Elves,Albus, if the nature of the offense was public, so too will be the punishment. I suspect that we shall all reap the consequences of Miss Granger's words, if only watching the poor boy...reeducated."

And with that he walked out.