Ye of little faith: I found that the ending of the fifth book was deus ex machina much like the ending of book four. I prefer hard magic systems and the thing I love about writing in HP and Star Wars is that the magic is so soft that from fic to fic, I can reimagine how the magic works so long as I'm consistent within the story.

The various powers Rowling gives to Harry and then Horcruxes and the rules of soul and mind magic are…. negligible, although I am aware that fanon has firm ideas about possession not being possible, I just ask where's your sense of adventure?

Thank you, Theobeodo!

Chapter 9 - A Potter in Peril

Harris woke in the morning to Hedwig tapping on his window. No sooner did he let her in did she land on his shoulder. Then she bit his ear, hard.

"Ow! Stars, what did I do?"

She hooted at him, her glare direct with meaning.

The blood drained from his face, "Harry?"

Harris didn't know at what point he stopped seeing Harry as himself but as someone closer to a son.

James had looked similar to Harry, though he had brown eyes and Rose was the one with the emerald and glasses.

Still, Harry Potter was a separate person from Harris Black, and Harris did feel responsible for his fate.

"What's going on?" Bella asked, coming in rubbing at her eye with a fist, looking herself like a child.

Harris pointed at Hedwig, "You're in charge, Hedwig. Watch her."

Hedwig hopped down on the back of the chair and levelled Bellatrix with large amber eyes.

"She's a bird," Bella said without taking her eyes from the snowy owl.

"She's Hedwig," Harris said, "I'll be back tonight, there are leftovers in the fridge."

Bella nodded, still watching Hedwig with suspicion.

Harris disapparated to the border of Hogwarts, leaving the two to their staring contest, and shifted into his kestrel form. He flew toward the hospital wing.

When in doubt, always check the hospital wing when looking for a Potter in peril.

To his surprise, it wasn't Harry, but Madame Pomfrey herself asleep in a cot with no Harry in sight.

He shifted out of sight of the group that consisted of Minerva, Flitwick, Snape, and Albus.

"Where's Harry?" he asked, walking toward them.

The four of them jumped, Snape drew his wand despite the fact that he was sitting. Harris narrowed his gaze at him, his arm was trembling.

"What happened?" Harris demanded, "What happened to Madame Pomfrey?"

"How did you get here?" Albus asked.

"Where is he?" Harris asked again.

Minerva didn't play with him, "He's missing. No one can find him."

"What happened?" he repeated, "And why does the Potions professor look like he's been crucioed?"

Snape flinched, which meant he hit the nail on the head.

"Another Death Eater didn't get into Hogwarts, correct?"

"No," Minerva said, and said no more.

Harris searched their faces, looking for a clue, running his mind through events of fifth year. He could think of many things that would lead to Harry being in the hospital wing, not Pomfrey though.

An awful idea occurred to him, "Harry didn't attack her, did he?"

"She will be completely fine after she wakes. No scarring even. However, why would you think that it was Harry, Mr. Black?" Dumbledore asked.

Harris gaped at him, that wasn't a no. "Why- Was he trying to-"

"Why do you think-" Albus tried again.

"Don't fuck with me, Dumbledore. Tell me what happened?"

Snape was watching him closely, "His scar was bleeding."

Harris's brows rose, his own scar was so faint it wasn't beyond notice, "Like a paper cut or a head wound?"

"Head wound," Snape said flatly, "It was running down his face."

Another awful idea occurred to him, "He used an Unforgivable on you?"

"Why would you assume that?" Minerva demanded.

But Harris saw the truth of it on Snape's paler than usual complexion. "I am his primary guardian, tell me."

The four exchanged looks, and it was Severus Snape who spoke, "He was having trouble during the Quidditch match. He didn't even try to go for the snitch. The Gryffindors took it badly and he ran from them. He was hiding in the corridor to the dungeons. He was shaking, crying, and seemed barely aware of his surroundings. He asked for my help."

"Help with what?" Harris asked sharply.

Snape gave him a dark look, "I suspect with blood dripping down his face. He was clearly in severe pain. His eyes kept flashing red."

"Excuse me?" Harris asked, knowing that the closest he had ever come to that was hating and glaring at Dumbledore.

Snape went on as if he hadn't spoken, "He pulled his wand. I asked if he could hear me and said 'Yes, we can.'"

Harris paled, "We? Voldemort spoke to you with Harry?"

"Why do you assume it is the Dark Lord?" Snape asked, suspiciously.

"Because he's been having nightmares, seeing visions since last summer."

"He told you that?" Albus demanded.

"We've kept a steady correspondence from the Last Task onwards. Voldemort had enough control to use the Cruciatus Curse on you, Severus, and attack Madame Pomfrey?"

Snape stared at him for a long moment, before saying, "Yes."

"Did anyone else see?"

"Not that I am aware."

Harris cursed and began pacing.

"If you had told us about the visions," Albus said, voice tight with anger.

Harris was hardly listening, if Harry was possessed then Voldemort could have taken him out of the school. Although, if he realized that Harry was a horcrux, it was at least unlikely he would be killed immediately.

"We can't find him anywhere in the school," Filtwick said.

"It's possible that the Dark Lord has him," Minerva added, looking distraught at the idea.

Harris was hardly listening.

Why couldn't Voldemort possess him in fifth year?

Last time it had been a seduction. Trying to convince him to get the prophecy, but Harris had changed much.

There was no prophecy.

There were no horcruxes save Nagini and Harry.

It was more than possible that Voldemort knew that. Harris had taken the Lestrange vault, it might have prompted him to go looking for that which he thought was safe.

It would explain why he took Regulus out of his curse if Voldemort had discovered the fake locket that Harris had not needed to retrieve. Voldemort would have gone looking for the ring which would have been gone.

That's three horcruxes, four if he included Hufflepuff's Cup in Harris's possession. Which meant the others had all been at Hogwarts.

Harris had an idea of where Harry might be.

But that explained why Voldemort would take Harry over now, to see what had become of his soul shards, but it didn't explain how.

What was different between Harry now than Harris had been in his own fifth year? He paused, looking back at Snape.

For a half-second, Harris thought that 'Hey, maybe those lessons had been worth something after all', but that was complete rubbish. He remembered the pain of those lessons, remembered how Snape had torn into his mind.

Narcissa and Andromeda had confirmed that Snape's 'teaching method' had done more harm than good.

Harris stilled.

He remembered that moment in the Ministry of Magic, the pain had been white hot.

He had felt like he was dying.

And if there was one thing Voldemort feared it was death.

I don't know what he thought he was doing, Andromeda had said, but you were correct to assume he wasn't helping.

Narcissa scoffed, He could have broken your mind doing it like that, you could have died.

Harris's gaze narrowed on Snape, the motherfucker.

"What?" Snape asked.

"Have you been teaching Harry Occlumency?"

Snape glowered at him, "Certainly not."

"Theoretically," Harris drawled, "is there a way to shield Harry's mind from the Dark Lord in future attacks?"

Snape thought about it and answered slowly, "Some precautions could be taken, but it wouldn't be enough. It would take the boy years to learn Occlumency, if he could learn it all. It's not a solution."

It had taken Harris years, he had needed Andromeda's help to fix the damage Snape had done.

Purposeful damage.

"What if you damaged some of the connectors?" Harris asked lightly.

Flitwick glowered up at him, "That could kill him."

"Yes, of course, but what if you were careful, what if you did it over the course of weeks or months? Damage just enough to make it… uncomfortable for the Dark Lord to be in his mind?"

Flitwick was shaking his head. Occlumency was within the Charms family of magic and Flitwick was old enough to likely have encountered it on the field before. "No. That would be incredibly painful. It would be torture. To make a mind vulnerable like that… Not only would it damage his relation to his magical core but it would put him in constant mortal danger. You heard Severus's account; nausea, pain, bleeding, the physical toll would be heavy. It would hurt the possessor as much, and they could both die."

Harris was looking between Albus and Severus. Severus looked mildly sick at this discussion while Albus was very carefully keeping his face blank.

Russian roulette. Hurt Harry Potter, hurt Lord Voldemort, kill Harry Potter, kill Lord Voldemort. The math was simple, for Albus, and for Albus that had always been the end goal anyway.

No wonder the bloody bastard never gave a damn about his education. Albus had never expected Harry to live a full life. He was just a piece on his board.

Harris's godfather had died for that arrogance in the fifth year, he himself had nearly died, Snape had, in a way, actually tried to kill him. The bullshit about Snape and his mother aside, Snape had never cared for Harry's health and happiness.

Minerva and Flitwick were angry, which was why they didn't know Albus's plans. Plans that ended with Severus and Harry dead to checkmate the Dark Lord. Both the professors Gryfindor and Ravenclaw were good people. Severus was more morally ambiguous than them.

Harris imagined what he would have done if this had been done to Teddy, to James, or to Rose. Hell to any of his students, to any child he was aware of.

Harris would have murdered Albus in cold blood.

"Did Harry eat this morning or the night before?" Harris asked.

"No," Minerva said, "But what does that have to do with-"

"I know where he is," Harris stated, "And he will be staying with me for a week, perhaps two if he likes. Assuming you don't expel him?"

Snape shook his head, "It wasn't his fault."

Harris nodded, "Indeed. I'll owl Sirius. If there are problems I cannot solve, I will be in touch. Otherwise, I would appreciate your discretion."

He turned on his heel and walked out.

"Albus, don't," Minerva said, clearly holding the man back.

It was Snape who followed him. Snape who caught his shoulder.

Harris grabbed his wrist and threw him into the wall, Harris's wand at his neck, "What the hell do you want?"

Snape didn't look afraid of him, "Why would you think I would teach Potter Occlumency?"

Harris thought of a long list of things to say. But there were no portraits in this hall and Harris knew that he had dentented the man's faith in Albus.

Harry had written that Snape had been, well, not nice to him over the last two months, but not hostile or derogative. For Severus Snape, that was nice, and what was more, Harris knew Snape liked keeping secrets.

So Harris smiled, "First hand experience."

"What does that mean?" Severus asked, "No one knows you. You appeared out of nowhere and I don't believe a Black would ever make a bastard his heir."

Harris leaned in close, whispering in the man's ear, "I think you will find that Harry and I share a history."

Pulling back he watched the confusion on Severus's face. He gave time for him to work through it as he did his own math on how to best keep Harry safe.

Oddly, he thought he might be safest with him and Bellatrix. Harris already had the potions and medical supplies for helping Bella.

Snape gasped, his onyx eyes glued to Harris's hairline where the faintest of white lines bent into a lightning bolt, "No-"

Harris smirked, "Honestly, Severus, isn't the resemblance just a little uncanny?"

"You're Harry Potter- Black's Heir, Time travel isn't-"

"A good idea?" he asked, "I'm aware. I lost my entire family. Everything I fought and died for: undone. No matter what happens, I will never get it back."

"Then why?"

"It wasn't my choice, I assure you. Like so much in my life, this happened to me."

Severus was shaking his head, "That's how you knew about Harry's past. Poppy-"

"This," Harris gestured around him, "No, this didn't happen to me. You tampered with my mind and Voldemort was unable to possess me."

Severus looked at him suspiciously, "You didn't die."

Harris laughed, "Oh, but I did. Albus won his game of chess quite prettily, and you and I played our parts to perfection. I walked to my own death like a sheep to slaughter and I will be damned before I let the same happen to the boy you would claim to protect."

"I claim nothing, I saved-"

"You saved a sacrifice," Harris cut in, "You tore up my mind and Albus stripped me of my personhood. I made many mistakes, I suffered, it took me a long time to learn how to live, how to be happy -and even that was taken from me. So stay out of it, Severus Snape. I know what Harry wants and needs, and unlike Dumbledore's child soldiers, I am capable of defeating the Dark Lord."

Severus stared at him for a moment before stating, "Albus is not evil."

"Perhaps not," Harris conceded, "But he is incredibly misguided."

Severus bowed his head and didn't follow Harris, if he had any luck, that would be the final straw between Severus and Albus.

If not, Albus Dumbledore would learn Harris's true identity. That would have an unknown number of consequences. But it was worth gaining Severus Snape as his ally.

Too much in the timeline had changed. Harris had no way of knowing what Voldemort or Albus Dumbledore would do now that he had completely ripped the rug out from under them.

Harris checked the Room of Requirement first and found the presents he left for Voldemort shattered in a rubble where the table had been.

He checked the Chamber of Secrets next.

When he found Harry curled up around himself, trembling even in sleep, dried blood marring his pale face, Harris didn't see himself.

He saw his son, James, and it broke his heart.

At this point, he wondered what was left of him that could still be broken.

Losing everything by going backwards was a particular sort of hell.

Harris had indeed lost everything he loved, and yet, everything remained left to be lost again.

It was all that kept him breathing, but he did wonder if there would come a day where he let it all burn.

Or, if he would live long enough to see it.

Harry Potter woke up to a long haired woman peering down into his face. She smiled down at him, then booped his nose with a finger, "Harry Potter."

Harry jerked back, scrambling away from her across the big bed.

Harris Black came into the room that was painted in light blues and white molding. It was clearly daytime but the windows had some sort of charm that diffused the light so any shapes outside were unviewable.

Hedwig was on Harris's shoulder and flew to Harry's, rubbing his cheek.

Physically, he felt better than he had in a while, but he was still shaking as he got out, "I'm not safe- I."

"Have a piece of the Dark Lord's soul clipped to the scar on your head which Voldemort's been using to get at you through?" Harris supplied.

"We are going to kill it," the woman said with satisfaction.

Harry blinked at them both, not knowing how to process that, though for some reason, it made more sense than the explanation Dumbledore had given him at the end of first year.

"I have a piece of the Dark Lord's soul? And I'm sorry, who are you?"

"Bella Black," she said proudly, "And I'm going to avenge myself for what the Dark Lord did to me by killing Harris."

Harry leaned away from her, Hedwig nipping lightly at his ear. Harris didn't seem at all bothered by that statement.

"She means the piece of Voldemort's soul in your scar," Harris clarified.

Bella giggled, "It's funny when you say his name. He'd be mad." The idea of angering the Dark Lord seemed to amuse her, because she whispered, "Voldemort." She waited a moment, as if waiting to be struck down, then fell back on the bed giggling.

Harris watched her closely but spoke to Harry, "You've been asleep for two days."

"Madame Pomfrey!" Harry exclaimed.

Harris held out a hand, "She is alright, Harry. She even wrote you a letter. She is perfectly well, no scarring, and she does not blame you in the slightest.

Harry hugged his knees, "I used an Unforgivable."

Harris sat down on the bed, "Harry, it wasn't you."

But Harry was shaking his head, "Snape will hate me." Which was a damn shame because they had finally been, well, not getting along, but no longer freuding.

"It wasn't you, Harry," the older wizard said, "Snape knows that better than anyone. You will not be punished for this."

Bella sat up, pushing her raven hair back from her face, "I think we've all been punished enough."

Harris handed Harry a glass of water, "Unfortunately, I don't think it will be painless to get the soul shard out, but I thought you would prefer now rather than later."

Harry nodded his head avidly, "How did it even get there?"

"Voldemort was practicing a dark type of magic that requires murdering someone in order to slice his own soul. I suspect he was planning on using you to enact that ritual, but when your mother's spell rebounded the curse, the magic went, well, a bit wild."

Harry grimaced, "Why would anyone want to cut up their own soul?" He was still a bit tired, so he couldn't place right away what this was reminding him of.

"He wanted to hide pieces of his soul away, so in the event of his death, his soul would still be tethered to the living plan with assorted objects."

Harry's eyes widened, "Like the Diary! Dumbledore told me then that Voldemort left a piece of himself inside me. So it's his soul, not his magic? That's why I can talk to snakes!" His mind was whiring. It was all too much to fully absorb the horror of it."

"The Dark Lord had a diary?" Bella asked, falling on her side this time in helpless giggles.

"Yes," Harris told her then looked at Harry, "But no, the ability to talk to snakes is your own gift -yes, gift," he emphasized as Harry opened his mouth to protest. "But the soul shard must be removed."

"Why hasn't it taken over me?" Harry asked, "If it's been with me all my life then…"

"Because it is a small fraction of him," Harris said, "the Diary was his first and the most powerful because of it. What you faced in your second year was more of Voldemort than you faced as a baby or in your fourth year. He has weakened himself, it's why his eyes are red, why he is so inhuman, and why he is so very unstable."

Harry blinked, then said, "If I were him, and I wanted me dead or Dumbledore dead, I wouldn't have attacked Snape or Pomfrey."

"If he had been in his right mind, no, I think you are right. I doubt if he had understood just how much control he had over you he would have waited for a more strategic moment. I'm guessing he was upset."

Harry shuddered, remembering what had happened to Theo's dad, "He was enraged. Someone killed Abeforth Dumbledore and used the dark mark thingy like was used at the Quidditch Tournament last year."

Harris nodded, "I saw that. And it did seem a stupid thing to do for someone who wants to stay in hiding."

"It wasn't Voldemort. I didn't even know Albus had a brother, but Voldemort was angry about his death, more so about the mark though I thank."

"And he was excited when he realized how far in your mind he could go."

Harry shuddered, hugging himself harder, "Yeah."

"I gave you some potions to help rejuvenate your strength. You need to eat real food but I don't imagine that you're in the mood," Harris said.

Harry shook his head and took another sip of the water, he didn't know if he could keep the water down much less food. The knowledge that he was carrying around bits of Voldemort and that Voldemort could take him over at any moment was beyond frightening.

"I want it—him out," Harry stated, setting the glass down on the side table.

Harris nodded, patting the spot on the bed in front of him, "Alright, sit up."

Harry mimicked the older man, sitting cross legged in the spot indicated, their knees pressing together.

"Just breathe, Harry, relax your mind, let go as much as you're able."

"What if Voldemort comes back?"

Harris smiled, "That might actually be ideal. But let's not get our hopes up."

"But-"

"I took your wand," Harris said, "It's going to be alright, you just need to trust me." He glared at Bella, "And you need to be sure of your aim."

She grinned, "Always."

Harry didn't like her smile, but if Harris trusted her, he guessed he could too. Letting out a long breath, he closed his eyes.

Harris pressed his forehead to his and a familiarity ran through him, like a crystal glass being struck, singing true.

Yet there was a vibrating, sandpaper sound that he felt rather than heard. It felt wrong, foriegn.

-What are you doing? Voldemort asked in his mind.

~Hello, old friend, Harris hissed in parseltongue, also in Harry's mind.

Harry didn't know how he knew it was in his mind, but he felt as if he were seeing his own magical core, as he was seeing Harris's.

They looked oddly alike. Like stars gleaming together.

~The third eye sees all, Harris hissed, opening up magical shields that Harry knew he didn't have.

It was like Harris's magic was singing and Harry felt his own magic try to match it, to come to harmony with the older man.

-What do you hope to accomplish, Black? Voldemort asked through him.

~I want to kill another piece of you, Harris hissed.

Voldemort roared, and it hurt, but Harry focused on his breathing, on holding himself still on the incredible experience of seeing his own magical core and another person's. It occurred to him that Harris was the one directing this, that in a sense, Harris was processing his mind just as surely as Voldemort was.

But Harris wasn't trying to hurt him and his presence in Harry's mind made it impossible for Voldemort to take control.

~We are more ourselves than Voldemort or his soul shard, Harris explained, clearly able to hear and understand any thought or knowledge drifting in Harry's mind.

~I will kill you both, Voldemort threatened, also in parseltongue.

~Come and get me, Harris commanded.

Voldemort roared and Harry felt some dark thread, that odd disnate sound unwinding itself from around Harry's magical core, flowing like water down a mountain toward Harris who held his shields wide open.

Voldemort saw the trap and abruptly his dark shadow disappeared like a headache easing.

But that tendril of discordant noise went with Harris.

Harry felt himself thrown back toward the headboard. He fell into the pillows as he was jared from the meditation, from Harris's mindscape.

His scar hurt, but the throbbing was easing, he felt light, his thoughts a thousand times clearer as if he had been depressed or sleepy all his life and only now was he awake.

Harris, however, had a scar like Harry's now and it was bleeding as a dark mist, like what had flown from Quirrell was attacking the man's face.

Harry reached for his wand, realized too late that it was gone.

But Bella Black had a wand, and she pointed it at Harris. Her words were clear as she cast, "Avada Kadavra!"

"No!" Harry screamed, but Harris Black dropped from the side of the bed like a stone, the black mist washed away in the now fading green light.

Harry stared at Bella, whose smiling expression fell.

She released the wand, and Harry watched pure horror and fear on her beautiful face. She climbed over the bed, sliding to the ground, and began shaking the man she had just murdered, "Harris! Harris! Please? I did what you asked, I don't want you to die. Please? You can't leave me too, please!"

She wasn't quite crying, but Harry could see her pain clearly and understood that she really hadn't meant to kill the man.

Maybe she shouldn't have used the killing curse then.

But not a moment later, Harris took in a gasping breath, "Bella?"

Bella screeched, then began laughing wildly.

Off like a whip, she ran out of the room bragging in a singsong tone, "I killed the Dark Lord, I killed the Dark Lord! He can't get me! He can't get me!"

Harry was deeply confused as Harris leaned against the side of the bed listening to the crazy lady singing about her successful homicide of a soul shard around the apartment.

"Is she skipping?" Harry asked after a long moment.

Harris sighed, bowing his head, "Probably."

Bella laughed in answer, almost cackling as if she had heard the question and thought it was hilarious.

"Thank you," Harry said, quietly.

Harris smiled up at him, looking tired but otherwise alright for a man who had just been almost possessed then hit with the Killing Curse, "Anytime."

Harry frowned at him, "How did you know that would work?"

Harris grinned, "I didn't, but death isn't something I fear."

Harry gave him a long look, the man might not be skipping around singing about murdering the Dark Lord, but Harry had to wonder if Harris Magnolia Black wasn't the crazier one out of the two.

AN: Thoughts, reactions, hippogryphs, or feedback, pretty please?