A/N: Hello! Thanks for everyone that followed, favorited and reviewed even if I haven't seen them all. The way it's going so far, means there won't be much if at all mention of the Hallows. I mean, they're cool but a bit of a contrivance to help a brave dunderhead win. I'm actually quite looking forward to writing the ending, I just need to get there first!
I'm also thinking of giving a little preview to event's that happen later on. Just a snippet, and they cooould change, but I just reckon they might be cool. I mean, sometimes I just wake up int the middle of the night with a scenario in my head that I just have to get in writing. You know what, I'll try it. Let know know what you think!
...
(From the future)
He stood, alone, yet framed in the cavernous maw of the door that opened into the Entrance Hall. The lone surviving torch behind him lent his form a warm orange aura. An aura that belied the desolate look in Harry Potter's eyes.
Those furthest from him looked upon him in a godlike fashion, only those closer could see something was wrong. Only Hermione moved to him.
He drank in the battered, dirty and altogether beautiful sight. Until he remembered why he was there, of what he had to do.
She reached up and cupped his face her eyes searching his. He'd always loved her like this, searching for answers, solving riddles.
There was only one she was yet to solve.
...
New year, New Problems
Goodbyes were hard.
Though he usually attributed them to leaving Hogwarts, rather than going back.
Spending the Summer at Grimmauld Place had been life-changing. The previous summer, his only friends had been loneliness, sweat and the odd Dementor or two.
This summer he'd reconnected with his godfather properly, and got to know his 'Uncle Moony' outside of school. He'd found the support of a familiar-kind of family unit, and through their daughter, had found a girlfriend! He'd allied himself with the Minister for Magic, for the first time since his introduction to the Wizarding World. He'd fought Deatheaters and won, he'd killed grown men, beaten Sirius in Bowling and had a proper Birthday Party.
He'd learnt more about himself and those around him. He'd improved his duelling, spell repertoire and wandless control. He'd even stood up to Dumbledore, and in doing so, found out secrets that had been kept from him for years, learning how juvenile the idea of 'Good and Evil' was. Voldemort had been wrong though, there was more than 'Only power, and those too weak to seek it'. There were friends to find, family to cherish, and those that would destroy it.
He'd lost a dear friend, and found more.
This summer would perhaps change the course of his life. It was the only conclusion to reach if one compares what usually happens, with what had. A different Harry Potter boarded the train on September first, one that relished the time spent saying goodbye to Sirius, Remus, Helen and Richard Granger. One that bewitched his trunk to follow him through the crowd, one that stood tall, eyes darting for a drawn wand and spell sent his way.
A boy bent perhaps, but not broken. One that was joined by a girl that would never leave his side, a girl that hadn't since he had saved her from a Mountain Troll. A girl far too good for him, in his opinion at least.
That part of him hadn't changed, but he would devour what companionship he could. It was so new, so fresh, that it was still incredible to him.
The moment he'd caught Arthur Weasley's eye on the Platform though, all confidence fled, until the Weasley Patriarch nodded at him. He'd breathed a sigh and greeted them all, Molly had smothered him in a hug, while Ginny's was tentative. All the while Fred and George had bantered in their unique way. It was incredible what they'd been able to do with his TriWizard winnings. He actually had no real idea how much money it was untill he'd seen the shop, there were no regrets though.
He did have one though: He hadn't apologied, but he didn't want to kill the mood, and the words wouldn't form upon his lips.
He'd been distracted by the fact that Arthur had been promoted and he had congratulated the man, the Weasley family deserved far more. Ginny had kept up practising with Luna and she'd asked him if they were going to keep the D.A. alive. He'd had no answer for her.
It was nice to reminisce upon good things for once. But the familiar rocking of the Hogwarts Express upon the rails would have lulled him into a nap if not for his current position. He sat in the window seat, opposite Neville who gazed out the window - no doubt at the flora and fauna that covered the countryside. Luna sat next to his friend, engrossed in that current edition of the Quibbler's Rune Puzzle. Hermione meanwhile, was currently using his shoulder as a pillow reading her own tome, her hair tickling his ear slightly.
She'd begun to take certain liberties with his personal space since... that night. But he wasn't about to move for anything
After rushing back upstairs after his heart-to-heart with Sirius, and after they'd finished refining their kissing technique. They'd had a discussion that lasted well into the night, one that was a surprisingly logical rational debate upon a number of topics. He had a lot to learn after all, and she, while knowing the theory as well as usual, had no experience putting it to use.
It had started with his arrival and initiating an impromptu make-out practise session, something which he found out was something she welcomed as long as they were officially an 'item'. His fears for her safety were noted, and countered by the fact that they were already the best of friends and thus she was a target already.
She'd batted away his insecurity over his lack of experience with a smile, postulating that what they were now, was merely an extension of the friendship they already had. Either way, they would learn over time, and there was still so much they didn't know about each other. Like the fact that she had 'liked' him since third year - or at least admitted her feelings by then.
So incredible was this nugget of information, that he was speechless for a time:
Harry waved his hands wildly. "How!? I mean… I only figured things out not long ago, and I was going mad!"
She giggled at his manner, patting his arm. "That's alright, males reach puberty later than we do so I won't hold it against you." She then turned away shyly, fidgeting with a part of the quilt of her bed. "When did you know?"
He leant back against the headboard, he already knew the answer, getting the words out though was different. "When I saw you in the Leaky Cauldron, I think." She tried to cover her smirk laden smile and he realised what had happened. "Hey! You meant it didn't you!"
"You mean dress to get your attention?"
"Yeah!"
"I might have." She replied coyly.
His mouth struggled with the right words until he realised how long she'd felt about him. "I'm sorry Mione, you shouldn't have to do anything to get my attention. I-"
She waved this away. "Don't worry about it, you're a special case. I suspect you didn't know what you were feeling anyway."
He flopped back, defeated. "I'm rubbish at that sort of thing, fair warning." He shrugged. "I literally thought Cho was just pretty, and liked Quidditch."
Hermione smirked at this tidbit. "And yet you broke off your date to see little old me? You really shouldn't have done that Harry. "She said mock sternly. "Although that gave me hope." She finished with a shy smile.
"Noted." He smirked. "Don't ditch a date unless I'm going to see you."
She patted his knee, a bright smile lighting up her face. "You're learning Harry."
He returned to the present to see Luna staring at him, he shivered at the sight as it felt like she was reading his mind. Or something. Who really knew with Luna?
"Congratulations you two." She said with a smile.
Neville pulled his attention from the window, looking between them all confusedly. "What?"
"Can you not honestly see it Neville?" She directed her piercing gaze upon the boy who shrugged. "They're together now." She stated with the certainty of the sun rising in the morning. Or the existence of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.
Neville peered between them, Hermione's convincing poker face, which was still buried in her book, and the smile Harry fought to keep from his face. "They're not acting any different."
"We ARE right here." Harry grumbled. "But she's right Neville." The instant he confirmed it, Hermione burrowed a little deeper into his shoulder. He couldn't help the smile at that, he felt happy at saying it out loud, and it seemed she was of like mind.
"Wow, uh, congratulations." Neville said awkwardly, but with a grin.
It hung in the air for a moment before Harry grinned in reply. "Thanks Neville.
At that moment, the door to the compartment opened and a tiny looking second year hovered on the threshold. "I have a message for Harry-" Her gaze met his and she stammered slightly, finishing with a blush. "Potter."
Harry smiled and point-casted, levitating the missive into his lap. "Thanks, Miss?"
"MacDonald." Was her only reply before dashing away.
He let out a sigh at the same time Neville let out a chuckle. Seeing this, he sent the letter to flick Neville's nose before zooming back into his lap. "It's not funny." He grumbled. "I'm glad you didn't greet me like that Luna."
The blonde glanced away from her Magazine, immediately intrigued. "How did I greet you?"
"You just said: You went to the ball with Parvati Patil." Neville snorted from his seat. "It was different. You even gave me a dressing down on how I treated her, which was fair I suppose." He nodded at her in thanks.
"Did you apologise?" She asked, her gaze dropping back to the Quibbler in her hands.
His mouth fell open in realisation, he hadn't. After all, Krum had been the perfect gentleman to Hermione. He made a mental note to apologise when the opportunity arose, also to ask Hermione on the best method. No doubt she would have a plan for him.
Neville laughed even louder at the look upon his face.
Hermione however, took pity upon him, tapping his knee. "We'll sort it out."
Neville's face fell into something that was a mix between frustration and a smirk. "You had to ruin it didn't you, Hermione? I did so want to watch him make an arse of himself trying to apologize."
The girl at his shoulder sniffed. "I can't have my boyfriend looking so undignified, now that I'm attached to him. He'll make me look bad."
Chuckles filled the compartment, though one wizard grumbled in between each snort of laughter.
Once the teens regained control of themselves, he opened the letter. "Who the hell is Slughorn?"
...
Harry Potter couldn't quite figure out how he felt as he mindlessly munched on toast the next morning.
Dumbledore had announced just last night, bold as brass, that the part-Whale part-man he'd met on the train was the new Potions Master and that SNAPE of all people now taught Defence against the Dark Arts. Snape!?
The only bright side was that he could see the look on the bastard's face as he excelled even more after all the work he put in over the summer.
The other thing was he wasn't quite sure how to act with Hermione at school. Was he required to hold her hand when they walked, or even arm in arm? Was he supposed to sit closer? Despite his low-key panicking, he'd settled for acting how he normally did. Engaging in her discussion about the coming years classes and what they would hold.
A voice drew his attention. "Miss Granger." Came the clipped voice of Professor McGonagall. "Congratulations on your OWLS. Any questions about your classes this year?"
Hermione glanced over the timetable quickly before shaking her head. "None, thanks Professor."
Normally she would have, considering their new Potions teacher, but he'd answered her questions upon his return from the gathering in Slughorn's compartment. At least the man had experience, despite his manner.
"Mister Potter, I was glad to see the E in Transfiguration, and given what I've heard of your summer I hope to see an O in your NEWTS."
He struggled with an answer, as seldom received praise and expectations above his own were heaped upon him. "I mean, I'll try."
She gazed at him imperiously. "Indeed. Are you sure you didn't want to continue Potions?"
"But I got an E?" Were her records wrong? While disappointed and slightly surprised by his grade. He wasn't that set on becoming an Auror, it had just been the only thing he'd ever considered doing.
"Professor Slughorn accepts all who pass their OWL. I would advise filling your free period with it."
Hermione bumped him with her shoulder. "Go on, it'll keep you out of trouble."
He snorted and bumped her back. "Sure I'll do it."
McGonagall nodded, sparing a glance between them both. "Indeed Miss Granger." She then tapped his timetable with her wand and it reflected the change.
It was not long after that he found himself making the trip to a different part of the Castle for Potions than he was accustomed to. The room still felt a touch cramped, but the one or two windows served to brighten the space. The many ingredients that lined the walls cast different coloured hues as their light reflected that way and that. There weren't many students taking Potions for their sixth year, he could only count twenty in all. Including Malfoy, who seemed distracted by something. Or maybe it was the fact that neither Crabbe or Goyle had the brains between them to pass their Potions OWL and thus, were not flanking the pale boy.
As they entered, Slughorn was already the particulars of some of the Potions that bubbled on his desk. The Walrus-like Professor turned at their entrance. "Ah! Harry m'boy I was beginning to worry." He then peered at Hermione. "Brought someone with us, I see."
"Uhh, it's more like she brought me Professor."
The girl in question elbowed him. "Hermione Granger, Professor."
Slughorn brightened. "Ah! Miss Granger of course! One of the few in this class to score an Outstanding on their OWL." He waved for them to take a seat, which they did, and he turned to the rest of the class. "Now, before we begin, I assume everyone has a copy of 'Advanced Potion Making'?"
He raised his hand awkwardly.
"Ah Harry, yes?"
"I uuh, didn't realise I could take this class before this morning so I never-"
"Ah, I see. There should be some old copies in the cupboard you can borrow until you can owl Flourish and Blotts." Harry nodded but couldn't decide whether to get up and get it now or later, Slughorn made the decision for him though, waving a hand over the varying sized cauldrons. "Now! Could anyone tell me what these might be?"
Surprisingly to him, Malfoys hand shot up first. "Elixir de Euphoria." He drawled pointing to the largest one who's steam flowed over the sides of the cauldron.
"Five points for Slytherin, Mister?"
"Malfoy."
"Ah yes, Severus did mention…" He clapped his hands. "Now, anymore?"
Padma's hand rose and he pointed to her. "The one with the spiraling fumes is Amortentia."
"Quite correct! Five points to Ravenclaw Miss?"
"Patil."
He nodded at her and elaborated. "While Elixir de Euphoria is tricky to make, it's effects are rather straightforward in comparison to Amortentia. The latter is our best attempt to recreate love, perhaps one of the most complex of all emotions. It only creates a powerful infatuation with the intended, one so strong it over takes our previous inclinations. It has similar characteristics with the Imperious Curse, in the desired effect, although there are limitations to both." He swept a serious gaze upon them all. "For that reason, it is probably the most dangerous potion in this room. Even if some find their curiosity piqued at finding out what attracts them."
Harry gave a sniff at that, smelling Treacle Tart, Woodsmoke and something else he couldn't place.
Beside him, Hermione leant forward to take her own whiff and a smile settled upon her face. To his surprise she moved closer to him, leaning in and the smell he couldn't place… suddenly had an origin.
"And now," Continued Slughorn, his manner one of a Gameshow Host revealing a prize. "Can anyone identify this creation?" He lifted the lid upon a tiny cauldron and Harry could only just spy the golden liquid within.
Hermione popped away from his side in an instant to answer the question, he could see the awe written on her face, even from her side. "Liquid Luck!"
Slughorn grinned. "Yes Miss Granger, Liquid Luck. One of the most difficult of all potions to produce, banned in all sporting competitions and disastrous should one brew it incorrectly. An example of common side-effects of errors in brewing are poisoning, mental degradation and the inverse: Horrible Luck."
His own eyes widened, wondering just how bad someone's luck could get.
Slughorn pressed on after obviously enjoying the effect he'd created. "Now then, here's what I offer each and everyone of you today. A tiny vial of Liquid Luck, for the student that, in the time that remains, produces an acceptable Draft of Living Death. One that can be found on page ten of your books."
The class fell into a panicked cacophony of quiet noise as each withdrew their books and all flicked to page ten with haste. It left him standing there a little annoyed, until Slughorn announced. "Let the brewing comence!"
He hurried to the cupboard and grabbed the first book he saw, almost sprinting back to his desk. The promise of twelve hours of luck had gripped the class in a fever of competition. He arrived at the desk he would share with Hermione and found she was already grabbing ingredients for them both. Grinning in a slightly silly way, he grabbed them both the rest of what was on the list and then pooled them all on the top of their shared space.
As he flicked through the obviously old and well used book he'd grabbed and arrived at page ten. He immediately noticed that the previous owner had scrawled on almost every page. Upon closer inspection he noted each annotation seemed to be improvements to the text. At least, that was what he hoped. I mean, who would write the wrong thing on purpose? Some great prank that wouldn't happen for decades?
Deciding to trust this mystery Potions extraordinaire he grabbed an extra Sopophorous Bean and crushed them each with the flat side of his dagger. This odd action drew the attention of his desk mate as she struggled to cut her own bean.
She turned her gaze upon him, her hair already frazzled. "What are you doing?"
"Crushing it. Apparently it works better than cutting." He finished with a shrug.
"Harry! The instructions specifically say to cut."
He shrugged once more. "Just trying something out. If I pull a Seamus, then I'll go by the book." He said referencing the frequent explosions that happened around his dorm-mate.
She pursed her lips and each returned to their work.
After an hour, Slughorn rose from his desk, having spent the time writing, and re-writing something. Only once did he roam the room observing his students, it seemed as if the first class was a test of their abilities.
"Alright everyone, finish your sequence of stirring and put your spoons down!"
He heard Hermione lay aside her spoon with a huff, no doubt frustrated with not completing the Potion. Even though no one could in the time they had been allotted.
Slughorn had then inspected each cauldron, leaning back as he inspected Seamus's as the boy already had a blackened face from earlier. Malfoy's effort earned an approving nod, most earned no words, merely an extra stir here or a sniff there. Hermione's earned a similar nod to Malfoy's, Slughorn took one look at his own effort and produced a tiny red leaf, dropping it into his potion where it slowly smouldered into nothingness.
"My word! It is perfect! I daresay one drop will kill us all! You have your mother's talent, Mister Potter. Lily was a whizz with Potions. Yes, the clear winner!"
He smiled at the mention of his mother, ignoring the room full of mutinous stares, even from his side.
"You cheated Harry." She muttered in his ear as they packed up.
"What? I just used different instructions. They were just better than yours." He countered slightly sharper than he'd intended, his pride injured. She makes it sound like without this book I'm rubbish. To him, this was proof that the mysterious author had been right all along. It wasn't like Hermione to dismiss things like this out of hand.
Things remained a little cold between them for the rest of the day, and the next, though he was at a loss as to why. She gave the book dirty looks whenever he took to reading all of the annotations as one would read a fiction book. They remained together whenever possible, but things just felt off to him. As a result, the thoughtless hugs they shared over the summer dried up, kissing became perfunctory.
He was almost relieved when Dumbledore's missive arrived with the time for their first class, starting at seven that evening.
…
-One Memory Later-
Both teens withdrew from the Pensieve with differing expressions. Hermione was deep in thought while he was puzzled at its significance.
Dumbledore stepped forward, having not joined them in the Pensieve, his gaze piercing. "Well?"
"Marvolo is Voldemort's grandfather. They're all..." He trailed off.
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, due to centuries of inbreeding to keep their blood pure, led to madness which led to poverty. All they had were their heirlooms, the ring, which I've found, and a locket."
Hermione spoke up. "So they were Slytherin's descendants?"
"Yes, the ring," He held up a heavy gold ring with a cracked dark gem in the centre. "Was genuine, though it was created by a wizard that married into the family, not directly Salazar's. The locket meanwhile, was indeed his, the statue in the trophy room depicts him wearing it."
While Hermione pondered the Headmaster's reply. To him, things didn't add up. "Why show us this? I thought you would be teaching us magic."
Dumbledore gave him a look, then set to pacing. "The importance of this is twofold. First, I've collected each memory I have so we can gain an insight into how Tom Riddle became Voldemort, and why. Secondly, this shows two important items that need to be found for a reason I will explain towards the end of our lesson tonight." He stopped before them, a sad smile upon his wizened face. "As much as I would love to teach two extremely bright students the depths of magic. I became the Wizard I did over decades, there is simply not enough time to teach you enough. Indeed, the lengths you have both come in such a short time suggests drastic improvement can be achieved without the ramblings of an old man."
Harry couldn't help but smile in the face of the old man's self degradation. Slowly, he was learning to let go of the past, as dwelling upon it never served him any good. There were bigger things to worry about anyway.
Like how to fix things with Hermione.
He had no time to dwell on that though as they watched another memory, this time, one of Dumbledore's.
-Another Memory Later-
The Orphanage had filled him with questions. After all, his Uncle had vehemently declared at least once a week that they should have sent him to one. His bloated aunt Marge was of like mind with her brother, of course.
The place had looked a little bleak and bland, but there were others there, maybe that would've been nicer. Although he probably would have had the same problem little Tom did; his manifesting magic among Muggles.
The sympathies dried up quickly as they learnt what the boy had done, and what he had alluded to. Even the Dumbledore in the memory seemed at a loss of how to deal with the boy, for a time. Until he'd learnt of the boy's thieving ways. Ways that struck him as odd. He himself had stolen more than one thing during his time at the Dursleys, but he rarely stole objects or toys, usually it was more along the lines of food or drink.
The boy in the memory stole Trophies.
Said boy was also a Parselmouth, and he'd asked the question to impress. Despite having been put in his place by a superior, he still tried to influence or intimidate the - younger looking - older man. It felt familiar, it was indeed the same boy that would become the most feared Dark Wizard in centuries.
As soon as they'd withdrawn from the Pensieve Hermione rounded on the Headmaster. "Did you know sir, then-"
"Did I know that I had met the most feared Dark Wizard of all time? No. If I had, I…" Dumbledore wrung his hands for a moment before turning to him. "Did you notice anything I didn't?"
"He had way more control over his powers at that age than me."
"Yes. No doubt he used them while here, though it was impossible to prove."
"He stole trophies." The old man peered at him interestedly, prompting him to continue. "I mean, he didn't really need those things, or probably use them."
Dumbledore nodded. "That coincides with my own opinion, through the viewing of other memories. Though I suspect the trophies he would collect in his older life would be artifacts of the founders of Hogwarts."
Hermione spoke up, looking perturbed. "But why?"
Dumbledore sighed, taking a seat heavily behind his desk. "Why indeed." The old man spent some time in silence before elaborating. "Why? I can only guess at. But there is a way you both can help. I need one more memory, the real version of one that was gifted to me, but heavily tampered with."
Dumbledore summoned another vial to Harry, gesturing to him to view it.
Which they did.
-One More Memory Later-
"That's not real." He blurted as they both found themselves in front of the Headmaster once again.
"Ah." Dumbledore set to pacing. "Most of it is. It's only a very specific part that had been tampered with, making it seem as if his hearing failed. It's actually rather quite skillful."
Hermione's eyes were narrowed, no doubt finding her information lacking, and unhappy about it. "But why?"
"Why indeed." Dumbledore stopped pacing and visibly aged before their eyes. "I have a theory, based upon the ring I've found, and the diary you destroyed Harry." The old man sat heavily upon the step. "There is an extremely old branch of dark magic, designed to extend one's life. Originally created by Herpo the Foul, it splits the soul, storing it until it is... required."
"He did brag about it." Cut in Harry. "Going further than any other to conquer death."
Dumbledore nodded, looking thoughtful. "Oddly enough, you could also claim the same Harry." His gaze then turned serious once more. "I postulate that he created Horcruxes, given everything I have found. Yet, we cannot be sure, until we see the entire memory. This is the task I must burden you with; we need the real memory, only you can convince him to give it up."
"You mean YOU couldn't do it?" Asked Hermione, slightly confusedly.
A blackened hand was waved. "I have asked. And any other approach to trick or force it from him he would be prepared for. We have known each other for decades after all, and Horace is an extremely competent wizard. With certain quirks."
"You mean his Club?" Harry asked, then it hit him. "You want him to 'collect' us."
"Yes." Dumbeldore said heavily. "The Boy-Who-Lived, and Hogwarts top performing student are exactly what he is looking for."
"What is this Club?" Asked Hermione.
"Horace enjoys thinking of himself as a 'Kingmaker', forging connections, helping others to success in order to increase his own station. A model Slytherin. He has a knack for spotting those with potential, and they are then invited to join a Club made up of other's of similarly high potential."
She wrinkled her nose in a way that Harry found particularly cute. "Sounds pretentious."
Dumbledore rose and moved to his desk, chuckling. "It is actually rather beneficial for all those involved, the connections made will aid you in the future."
Both teens spent some time thinking over things in silence until the Headmaster rose from his seat. "I think that will be all for tonight, you have your task. I shall contact you when we are to meet again."
Harry nodded and led Hermione away by the arm, whom it seemed was thinking hard and not paying much attention to what else was happening. "Goodnight Professor."
...
The weather turned slowly over the next couple of months, driving rain turned into snow that turned the castle into a veritable oddly shaped cake with icing on top.
He'd reached halfway through his borrowed and battered copy of Advanced Potion Making, it was perhaps one of the most interesting books he'd ever read. Let alone a textbook. He'd found the 'Levicorpus' Jinx that Sirius had shown him a while ago, and many others that he hadn't read elsewhere. He'd even learnt a thing or two about Potions, but they were merely the inevitable side effects of his nightly reading.
It kept his mind off of the empty bed, and lack of snores in the dorm at least.
Classes were going smoothly, his closeness with Hermione paying dividends as usual. He was becoming proud of his burgeoning ability to not rely on her as much when it came to homework though. It didn't matter if his grades weren't as good as hers as they would never be, but he'd take an 'E' any day.
Their only real disagreement centred upon the book, something for which he was both glad and irritated for. He didn't understand the big deal with it, and settled for keeping it out of her gaze as often as possible. They both slipped into old habits, minus one of their number. Something he lamented on, on occasion, half-expecting a quip from Ron only to find his seat vacant.
The one person that he would ALWAYS have disagreements with, Snape, made his favorite class a chore to get through. That didn't stop his 'O' level of work, fueled by his and Hermione's work over the summer - much to the Professor's chagrin. Snape had even tried to pull a fast one on him in their very first class:
They'd paired off as they were to practise non-verbal spells. Hermione had no trouble and sent a silent stunner at him - which he parried easily - the spell whizzing past the ear of their greasy-haired Professor.
"Pathetic, Potter." He drawled. "I believe I asked for a non-verbal spell, do I need to spell your ears bigger? Here." The Professor turned his wand upon him so fast, that he reacted instantly, raising a shield that sent the sickly-coloured hex back at Snape who barely managed to defect it towards the ceiling in time.
Now with a sour look upon his face, he gestured for them to switch. Which they did, Harry sent a Tickling Jinx at her which she blocked with a small conjured stone.
Snape rounded on her. "Did you not hear what I said Granger? This is not a Transfiguration class. Perhaps Potter's dunderheadness is contagious. Twenty points from Gryffindor, each. It'll be detention if you both continue to not listen to instruction."
Harry bristled at the hurt look on his girlfriend's face, fighting hard not to attack the greasy git right there and then. Only the thought of how she would react to such a course of action kept him silent. He settled for pulling her close to him after they exited class. "That git's going to get it one day." He murmured into her ear as they meandered away.
She elbowed him. "You're not getting kissed for a week if you get detention over something so stupid."
"No need to threaten me so." He replied. "I wouldn't survive that." She smirked.
They both remained silent as they wandered back to the Common Room with the rest of their house. He caught sight of Malfoy going upstairs instead of down, which had him wondering over the peculiar behaviour of the blonde ponce this year so far. He hadn't spoken to him once, no insults were thrown, no hex's sent his way. While welcome, it was also quite odd, something he would need to keep any eye on.
…
Hogsmeade sounded like a wonderful idea at the time.
Keen to get out of the Castle, and to spend some time doing something other than reading. - Quidditch he'd foregone, much to his Head of House's disappointment, citing his need to continue training. - He asked Hermione if she wanted to go, she'd agreed, after giving him an earful about not taking people for granted:
He waited for Hermione's return from patrol, on the couch in front of the roaring fire, reading his copy of Advanced Potion Making, taking advantage of her absence.
That was until she entered through the Portrait Hole, snorting with laughter at something Neville had said. Another role he'd declined to take on - along with Quidditch Captain - was Prefect, it had been offered in the same letter he'd received over the summer. But he'd blanched at the thought of extra responsibility, he barely knew any of the rules! The ones he'd broken on more than one occasion he was more familiar with, not really Prefect material. At least that's what he thought, and despite Hermione's cajoling, he was resolute, even if it promised more alone time with his girlfriend.
They both collapsed upon their chosen seats, Neville the armchair, Hermione next to him.
Harry gave his girlfriend a peck on the cheek in greeting. "What's so funny?"
"Cormack." She replied and Neville snorted.
She pressed on at the odd look upon his face. "We caught him in a broom cupboard with some fourth year." Harry rolled his eyes. "He tried to pull rank on Neville and he-"
"Kept to expected Prefect standards of behaviour." Neville interjected.
Hermione coughed. "Gave him a bollocking."
Harry raised his eyes at Neville who shrugged, but grinned shyly.
"Good on you Nev, I've heard enough of Angelina complaining about him in order to convince me to play again." He grumbled.
"I mean, couldn't he just wait until this upcoming Hogsmeade weekend?" Hermione lamented.
He blinked. "That reminds me, did you need to pick up anything when we're there Mione?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're making assumptions again Harry."
"What?"
Neville rose. "And that's my cue to go to bed. Goodnight Hermione, good luck Harry."
"What!?"
Once he was gone, she rounded on him. "Harry… What makes you think we're going together?"
Her tone set alarm bells going in his head, even if he didn't know why. "We aren't?"
"It's considered good manners to ask first"
"Will you come to Hogsmeade with me?" He replied quickly.
"Are you asking because I told you to?"
"What? No. I just… I'm sorry Mione, I… Take you for granted don't I?" He felt a swooping in his chest when he realised he'd done it again, something he'd promised that he wouldn't do again. She was too incredible a person to ever assume would always be there, even if that was what he wanted most.
Her hard look dissolved. "I like that you have faith in me, Harry. But you need to take my feelings and opinions into account as well."
He shrunk into himself, feeling horrible. "Sorry Mione."
In an instant, she closed the distance and hugged him around his middle. "Yes I'll go to Hogsmeade with you." They spent some time like that, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire before them. "I have to apologise as well."
He withdrew slightly in surprise. "Why?"
"The book." She replied, eyeing it. "You've changed so much over the summer Harry, and… I mean I always knew you could be the person you are now it's just… A shock."
He blinked, remaining silent as she explained herself.
"I just got used to helping you, always being the person you'd turn to for guidance and now… You're all competent, I saw it when we were with the Headmaster. I suppose I didn't like the book teaching you better than me, I didn't mean to get all… Jealous, it's… I'm sorry Harry."
He gave her a squeeze. "You'll always be helping me Mione, I just make things up as I go along."
She gave a snort from his chest. "Well you're bloody good at it."
He pressed a kiss to her hair, the only place he could reach from their current position. "I'll always need you. Why don't we both use the book? There's so many spells to try out, hopefully the Deatheaters won't have seen them before."
She stilled in his arms and he panicked slightly before she said: "More knowledge is good."
They'd already visited The Three Broomsticks for a fortifying Butterbeer before they battled the elements once more. Neville and Luna followed them, The wisp of a girl sheltered effectively by Neville's bulk.
They'd just turned towards Honeydukes when he spied a familiar figure. "Mundungus!"
The grubby little man fumbled with his bag as the wizard he'd been talking to hurried off as fast as the weather allowed him. Mundungus tried what he thought was a winning grin. "'Ey 'Arry, wha' are you doin' 'ere."
"What's that?" Asked Hermione as she pointed to a silver gleam in his grasp.
He looked closer as Mundungus fumbled around trying to put the items back in his sack. He glimpsed a familiar looking coat of arms, one he could spot anywhere with the amount of silver he'd cleaned over the summer previous.
The Black Coat of Arms.
"Drop it." Harry spat at him. When Mundungus continued to splutter he quickly stepped forward, gasping him by the collar of his filthy robes.
"Harry!" She called grasping his other arm.
"He'll apparate away otherwise!" He returned his attention to the man in his grasp and found him to be fumbling for his wand. To stop him, Harry pushed him up against the wall of Dervish and Bangs. "Drop everything you've nicked from Sirius and I'll let you go." He snarled.
At that moment, Tonks appeared out of thin air beside the pair in all her Red-Robed glory. "Let him go, Harry."
"But-"
"He won't get away." She cut him off, her tone as serious as he'd ever heard from her. She then twirled her wand at the sky before giving him another look. "Anti-Disapparition Jinx, he's not going anywhere."
Only then did he finally let the man go, his protectiveness over his own meager possessions overriding the knowledge that Sirius wouldn't really care that much about missing silverware. Only then did Mundungus guiltily turn out his pockets, as he did, Hermione's grip upon his arm became more enveloping. He leaned into her, thankful for the support, no words were needed.
The only thing of note that Mundungus Fletcher gave up was a heavy looking locket. Instantly, he felt uneasy around it, as he could hear an odd scratchy metallic sound emanating from it.
If the Diary was a Horcrux, as well as the ring Dumbledore showed me… The truth was, it was only a gut feeling. But it was just odd, a Locket no one could open? One that felt… Alive, malignant.
He pocketed it, telling the Auror that their leader needed to see it. Which was accepted.
With their outing marred, they headed back to Castle, only to find another piece of jewelry causing deadly problems.
...
Sirius groaned as he leant back in his chair.
He'd spent so many days within the bowels of Gringotts that he'd joked that they should let him sleep there. An idea that the Goblins didn't find amusing in the least.
With agonising slowness, the paperwork that required his attention dwindled. He didn't fancy telling Harry that he would need to do the same when he turned seventeen. It was dull stuff, but it did have its highlights.
With the death of Rabastan in the Department of Mysteries, it left Rodolphus the only living Lestrange able to conduct family business. If they could 'get rid' of him, House Black could 'Re-acquire' their daughter, bringing Bellatrix back into the family, along with the Lestrange vault. Though what value that would have, he didn't really know. The only good thing about Bellatrix returning to the family would be that she wouldn't be able to attack her Head of House, magically.
There were good memories of Bella, though he'd been very young. Those were now overshadowed by the woman - no, animal she'd become. He'd already brought Andromeda back into the fold though, as she was one of his favorites. Her husband was a good sort of man as well. It was a shame he couldn't make it to the wedding originally, as they'd basically eloped.
The number one priority for the Goblins, namely his accounts manager, Fletchwood - a name that still made him laugh, being possibly one of the most humanlike names a goblin could get - that he get the family investments in order. Gringotts wanted to start making money as quickly as possible, as usual.
Most of these were dubious in nature, trading leather and fur of all kinds, magical or mundane. Others were rents obtained from land owned in various parts of the country, again, magical or mundane. Much of the time was taken up with correspondence between the various businesses he had at least a stake in.
The list of properties were, quite honestly, a mess. Warehouses, shops, homes - both in Britain and abroad, and one Castle that lay in ruin for all he knew. There was a fair chance that it was habitable, considering his grandfather could have lived there. Nobody really knew where the old battle-wagon lived, given that he'd died in his sleep while staying at the Malfoy Manor.
He pressed his Black Family ring into the seal of yet another letter, the joy of completing this specific letter took over his tired body. "And that's me done for the day Fletchwood." He rose, stretching, his usual flamboyance dulled by the day.
The unremarkable looking goblin looked annoyed. "Good day then, Lord Black."
Sirius knew the goblin well by now to know that his effort hadn't been deemed 'worthy' of a break. By goblic standards at least. "What can I say? I'm only human." He said with a chuckle.
Fletchwood bared his teeth in something that resembled a smile. "Indeed."
"I'll be back tomorrow, don't miss me too much." Sirius chortled, grabbing his relatively new cloak from the back of the chair and making his way through the labyrinth and out into Diagon Alley. Seeing a curious look sent in his direction by a witch, he winked in reply. She blushed and hurried on, mirroring the rest of the Alley which was still gripped by the same fear he'd seen with Harry.
Fools, the lot of them. The public had seen the Boy-Who-Lived kill two Deatheaters and call them all cowards, yet they did nothing. In response, he strolled right down the middle of the Alley, whistling a jaunty tune. Drawing more than a few odd glances, but he revelled in them as usual, nodding at a pair of Aurors as they marched past.
His destination had become another hotspot of the Alley, the opposite of Gringotts - both literally and figuratively - It laughed in the face of the general mood of the Alley. Literally. Indeed, as he entered the shop, ignoring the clown-like sound the door made when opened, he spent a moment, taking it all in.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was the kind of shop the Marauders had dreamed about, though it would have never happened. James had to be above that sort of thing as heir, Remus had other aspirations, and he lacked the focus needed to run and create new products as often as the twins did.
In another life the three of them would have visited this place, often. They were more the executors of pranks, rather than creators. No doubt Marlene would have gone elsewhere when he visited this place, she had humour, but she would never have been able to stomach what went on in this place.
He shook his head, his long wavy hair threatening to get in his eyes. Forcibly moving his thoughts elsewhere, like the fact that he'd approached the Twins and provided further capital for further creations, including another shop. The current shop was doing rather well for one that had recently opened, but his godson's original investment had dried up opening the shop originally. So the Black family had offered further investment for them to expand, it was a lucrative sort of investment after all.
He took his time browsing, taking the chance to relax. Until he spotted one of the twins, on the landing above, looking at something he couldn't see. "Oi George!" He called up, seeing the letter 'F' on his lurid mauve uniform.
Fred peered in the direction of the sound. "Fido!" He descended quickly and shook Sirius's hand. "How's things old boy?"
"Boring, as usual." Sirius replied with a grin. "How goes the latest?" He asked, referring to the variation of the 'Shield' line of clothing the Twins had created over the summer.
"Brilliantly! You're welcome to test our prototype, it's just getting the materials that's the headache."
"Lead on." Replied Sirius, thinking over how to remedy the previously mentioned supply problem.
Fred led him into the backroom/workshop of the shop, located on the ground floor. Surprisingly organised boxes lined the walls of various sizes, while two long benches ran along the middle of the room. These were far less organised than the rest of the room and were filled with clutter. The room itself had been enlarged many times over, as it was a workshop/factory.
Upon the table on the left, lay a long coat, made of some kind of leather. Fred yanked it away with a flourish and held it out to him. "One, fully functioning 'Shieldcoat'."
Sirius held it up, inspecting it in the light, impressed, it didn't look special. "Rather bland name isn't it?"
"Well." Said Fred, looking sheepish. "This is serious business."
"It is, as I'm about to put it on." He smirked in reply. "Actually, on second thought, you put it on and I'll test it." Fred made no complaint so he shrugged it off, inspecting the lining before handing it over. "Nice job on the rune work."
Fred shrugged in the process of putting it on, the coat clashing wildly with the outlandish WWW uniform. "Took a while, didn't want to use stone of course, that would've led to extra charmwork. Ended up accidentally bonding copper into the leather, once we figured how to repeat it - where we wanted it that is - it made the runes permanent."
Sirius listened in awe of the Twins's ingenuity. "You know McGonnagall won't be happy with you two messing around with Transfiguration."
Fred straightened the coat on his shoulders. "Nah, she loves us. Ickle Harrykins is the only one she likes more."
Sirius snorted. "Ready?" At Fred's nod, he sent a Stinging Hex first. Seeing it dissipate against the coat, he tried more and more powerful curses, finishing with a stunner. Satisfied, and curious, he lowered his wand. "I thought they were meant to bounce off?"
"With wand work, yeah." The redhead agreed. "Between the Dragonhide and Runes we made it absorb the lower level spells, like the real-life Dragons would. The reason it takes multiple spells to take a Dragon out is you need to overwhelm its own magic, otherwise the magic just integrates with its own. I mean, we don't think it will stop an AK, and there's a limit to how much it can absorb, but it does alright."
Sirius blinked. It was just odd to think of the Twins actually knowing quite a bit more than most thought they did. It wasn't all just hopes, prayers and random experiments. Mostly. They were brilliant. "Pretty fucking alright to me. I want ten of these beauties. As soon as you can make them."
Freg grinned. "Lovely. Mention them to the Ministry, that's our target market."
"You bet. Can't wait to see some of the scum's faces when their spells bounce off me as I laugh in their faces."
"A wonderful prank."
"Indeed."
...
