Authors Note: Two guys walk into a bar, the third one ducked.
Rotten Writer, here again ladies and gentlemen, with the eighth installment of Soul Scars. Don't really have any major announcements this time around except for a couple minor things.
Number one: I'm American. Born and raised in Southern California. I have been trying to use metric system measurements for things and British idioms as much as possible but I don't always manage it and apologize if that's jarring to anyone.
Numer two: I am also NOT an expert in child psychology, psychology, or any other sort of field related to. I am doing my best to not have Harry just 'get over' his years of abuse and instead working on a slow progression where he gets the help and support he needs. Again, if I'm missing the mark I apologize, but I'm doing my best and only hope any mistakes can be forgiven and don't interfere with your enjoyment of the story as a whole.
We're coming into the second half of the story now, things are going to be picking up and in no time we should be wrapping up with Year One. Year Two is already in progress as well and I'm really looking forward to advancing the story and building a little more on my version of the wizarding world.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of value. Please do not sue me. I'm just playing in the sandbox as so many before me have done.
On with the show!
Soul Scars
By,
Rtnwriter
Chapter 08
The Christmas break was fast approaching and the students were finding it to be more and more difficult to focus on their studies with the holidays right around the corner. Even the professors found themselves distracted and it became more and more of a chore to get the students to focus in class. By the second week in December the Great Hall was festooned in holiday decorations, with a dozen massive Christmas trees placed throughout the space, decorated in glittering ornaments and, what seemed like, miles worth of tinsel.
It'd been a busy number of weeks, Harry reflected, as he sat in the library one day with his friends. The day after the Troll Incident, as it had come to be called, the girls had noticed Snape walking with a pronounced limp. They told Harry about it when they came to visit him in the hospital wing after lunch which led Susan to mention that she'd seen the disagreeable potions master heading toward the third floor on their way to rescue Daphne.
The general consensus was that Snape had been bitten by the dog guarding the trap door. Hermione, Neville, and Harry then had to quietly fill Susan and Daphne in on what they'd found the night of the almost duel.
"So we know there's a big dog, it's guarding something, and Snape is limping after being seen heading in that direction on Halloween night," Susan had said, laying out the information they had available to them.
It wasn't much to go on, but in late November they finally caught a break. It was the day of the first Quidditch game of the season, after Harry was nearly thrown from a cursed broom and still somehow managed to catch the snitch. They were visiting with Hagrid when Hermione and Susan started ranting about Snape cursing his broom. One thing led to another and they blurted out that they knew about the dog.
Next thing, they had a name, and a direction for their search.
Nicholas Flamel.
"Harry?" Susan's voice brought him back from his musings and he realized that everyone at the table was staring at him. Hermione, Susan, Daphne, Neville, Hannah, and Tracey were all giving him a concerned look and he flushed brightly for a moment.
"Sorry," he muttered. "Did someone ask me something?"
"I did," Hermione said. "Where were you?"
"Sorry, just thinking about everything that's happened since we got here. It's been a crazy year so far."
Hermione offered him a small smile. "That it has. But anyway, have you had any luck?"
He frowned at that. "No, and it's really bugging me. I know that I've seen that name, somewhere. I just can't remember where." He closed the book he was flipping through before his mind had started to wander and shoved it away from him, letting his head drop onto the table. "Is there any possibility that we're looking at this wrong?" he asked, his voice muffled.
"How so, Potter?" Tracey asked.
"Well, are we positive this guy Flamel is a wizard?"
Everyone around the table collectively blinked and simply stared at him.
"What?"
"Well… Dumbledore's like, stupid old, right?" Half the table grinned at his description. "I mean he's over a century. Do we really think that in all that time he's only ever interacted with witches and wizards? What if this Flamel guy is a muggle?"
They considered that for a moment before most of them started shaking their heads.
"That sounds pretty unlikely, Harry," Hermione said and he sighed.
"Yeah, I know. It was just a thought. We've been through hundreds of books here and haven't even caught a glimpse of the name." He shrugged. "I don't know, I guess I'm just getting frustrated with the whole thing."
"Why don't we take a break?" Susan suggested. Hermione tried to argue but everyone else was more than ready for a break. "We haven't made any progress in weeks, Hermione," Susan pointed out. "And we leave for the holidays tomorrow. It's not likely we're going to stumble upon Nicholas Flamel today, at the eleventh hour. And even if we do, what good is it going to do? We're leaving. We won't be here to wonder about whatever it is that Fluffy is guarding or who Flamel is."
Hermione still didn't look convinced so Susan sighed and tried a different tack.
"Look, you got permission to spend part of the holidays at my house, right?"
Hermione nodded. Susan's owl, Archimedes, had returned the week before with the letter. "Yes. They want me to come home for at least the first few days, spend some time with them. But then they said I could come over."
"Well, Bones Manor includes a rather large Library. If you want you can look through our books, see if we have anything, but," she added, holding up a finger to forestall Hermione who looked like all her Christmases had suddenly come early, "we will not be spending the entire holiday in the library. Get me? We're going to enjoy the holidays and have fun, understood."
Hermione looked crestfallen but nodded assent, her bottom lip stuck out in an adorable pout that had the rest of the table, including Harry, chuckling at her.
"Come on," Harry said, jumping enthusiastically to his feet. "Let's head outside. There's something I've heard about that I always wanted to try. It looked like fun."
"What's that Harry?" Neville asked as they packed away their bags and joined the exuberant young man. He was practically bouncing in place as he waited for the rest of them, a wide grin on his face.
When he answered Neville's question, his grin nearly split his face in half. "A snowball fight." He took off out of the library, calling back for them to hurry up and the group exchanged looks. Hermione, Susan, Daphne, and Neville had a look of sadness on their faces while Hannah, and Tracey simply seemed confused.
"He's never been in a snowball fight?" Neville asked.
"Harry's home life is…" Hermione trailed off, trying to determine how best to hedge around the topic.
"Hannah and I are somewhat aware of things," Tracey said, her confusion replaced by a sudden and somber understanding.
Hermione blinked, her mouth dropping open. "What? How?" she blurted out causing Madam Pince to shush her, rather loudly.
"We've been friends with Susan and Daphne, respectively, for years," Hannah pointed out. "We heard what they felt and the signs that told them they were bonded to someone. So I imagine we're about as informed as say… your parents are at the moment," she added. "Them being away from you for so many months they would have known as much as you knew as you were growing up before coming to school and that's where we are right now."
"And we have no intention of bringing it up to him or bothering him about it," Tracey said, jumping back into the conversation. "That's between you four and none of our business. We won't pry or even let him know we're aware of some of it if it'd make him uncomfortable or anything."
Neville looked back and forth between Harry's three bond mates and the two girls on the other side of the table. He and Harry had talked a bit more since the day he blew up at them and accidentally gave Neville a look into his painful life. He still didn't know much, but it was enough that he worried for his friend and was determined to be there for the bespectacled boy for as long as it was possible for him to do so.
"It seems like Harry has missed out, somehow, on a lot of things that most kids take for granted," Hermione pointed out, bringing their attention back to Neville's original question, "and I'd really rather not say more than that. It's his story to tell, when and if he ever decides to, so please, try not to pester him about it, okay?"
The glares that Susan and Daphne were giving the other three of their number immediately had all of them raising their hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Wasn't going to," Neville hastened to assure them. "It just struck me as odd that he'd somehow managed to avoid ever being in a snowball fight. That's practically a right of passage, idn't it?." The next moment his grin was fit to rival Harry's. "Come on, let's give Harry the snowball fight to end all snowball fights."
And that was exactly what they did. Together, the group of seven trooped out onto the grounds and began an epic snowball war. By the end, more students had been dragged in, and before they went inside in search of hot chocolate and warm fires the battle had swelled to include over forty students with forts built using magic and even the Weasley twins had gotten involved when they charmed a few snowballs to follow various students around, pelting them repeatedly until they surrendered.
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Harry Potter was excited. Excited didn't begin to cover it, to be fair. He was elated, overjoyed, thrilled, and absolutely terrified. He was sitting on the Hogwarts express, leaving school to spend the Christmas holidays with his friends. And he was absolutely positive that he was, somehow, going to do something to screw it up.
What if he ruined Christmas? What if he made a mistake? Would his friends abandon him? Would they leave him like everyone else important in his life had?
He suddenly felt a hand touch his and started slightly. Turning to his right he looked at Hermione who was sitting next to him on the bench seat. She was reading a book and without looking up had reached over and placed her hand over his where it rested on his thigh.
"It'll be fine, Harry," she murmured, quietly, still not looking up from her book. "Try to relax, please." He nodded and turned his hand over so he could squeeze hers lightly. He turned back to look at Neville sitting across from him the next moment and didn't notice the small smile that turned Hermione's lips when he didn't take his hand back and just continued to hold hers.
On his left sat Susan, and Daphne occupied the space to her other side. Susan had long since fallen asleep, slumped against his left shoulder, something that at once sent him into panic driven tension, and also just felt so right and comfortable that it was sending his emotions on a metaphorical roller coaster. Daphne just smiled fondly at the sleeping girl and with a sense of pain at the boy who just didn't know how to handle the emotions rushing through him.
Luckily Neville had kept Harry occupied with quiet discussion on a range of topics from Herbology, to Quidditch. Tracey and Hannah simply watched the four of them, occasionally contributing to conversation when they felt they had something worth adding, but mostly they were studying the interaction between their four bonded friends.
Despite the years that Tracey and Hannah had been hearing about their friends being bonded to someone, it had still been a shock to find just who that bond was with. And then with everything else that was going on, the only conclusion they could reach is that life was going to be very interesting in the presence of the four friends sitting across from them in their compartment.
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They exited the train, each carrying a bag filled with what they would need for their break from school. Trunks were left at the school since they really didn't need to haul everything out, considering they would just be returning in a few short weeks. Harry's body was practically humming with excitement. He still couldn't quite believe that he was actually going to celebrate Christmas! And with friends, too. That alone made this the best Christmas of his short life thus far.
Despite how excited he was, there was something bothering him. He glanced at the bushy haired girl to his right where she walked along beside him at a hurried clip, her eyes constantly scanning the crowd of students and parents.
He glanced to his left. On the other side of Susan, who walked next to him, was Daphne, still flowing along calmly and serenely. Gradually his steps slowed, hand coming up to worry at the scar behind his jaw.
Soon enough, the girls had pulled ahead of him until, almost as one, they stopped and to look back at him where had had come to a halt.
"Harry? What is it?"
He looked up into a worried, cinnamon colored gaze. "I'm really going to miss you, Hermione, and you too, Daphne."
"It will only be for a couple of days, Harry," Hermione said gently, "but I'm going to miss you too."
"You won't be able to miss me, Harry," Daphne added. "I'm going with you and Susan, straight to the Boneyard."
They shared a quiet chuckle at Susan's nickname for Bones Manor for a moment before Hermione returned her attention to Harry. "Day after tomorrow I'll be there," she assured him.
"I know it's just…" Harry trailed off fidgeting slightly and looking nervous.
"What is it?"
"I just… I don't think I've ever actually missed anyone before. I don't like it," he admitted, his brow furrowed in frustration.
"No one does, Harry, but I promise I'll be over to visit before you know it. Susan says her aunt is trying to arrange for me to be able to travel back and forth from my house at a moments notice, too." She gave him a comforting smile and he, hesitantly, returned it. "Now, come on. We need to find my parents and Susan's aunt." Hermione reached out and took hold of Harry's hand, gently pulling it away from his jaw before she tugged him along with her.
Harry spotted them first, his eyes picking out the vibrant red of Amelia Bones' hair through a group of cloaked witches and wizards as they walked in front of the quartet of students.
"Hey, Susan, isn't that your aunt?" he asked, pointing to the woman in question.
"Auntie!" Susan called and waved. Amelia looked up, catching sight of them and waved back though only a tiny smile curved her lips.
"Oh!" Hermione blurted out, noticing the couple standing next to Madam Bones. "She's with my parents."
As the students approached Dan caught sight of them and pointed them out just as Susan called out for her aunt. Easily, his eyes found his daughter and an enormous weight seemed to lift from his shoulders at the sight of her. She was smiling, brightly, broadly, something they hadn't seen her do to such a degree in years and she was leading a kid with tousled black hair by the hand as she approached.
Where's that Potter kid? he wondered just before his daughter slammed into him and he laughed, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off the ground into a huge hug.
"I've missed you, Princess," he murmured quietly to her.
"I've missed you too, Daddy." He set her down while Susan was greeting her aunt and Hermione turned to hug her mother while Dan eyed the other two students with his daughter.
The blond haired beauty was completely unknown to him, but the kid standing next to her… something niggled at the back of Dan's mind. Something about the kid was familiar but he couldn't quite place it.
"Dan Granger," he said, holding out one hand to the boy, "Hermione's father, obviously. How do you do?"
Harry stared at the outstretched hand for a moment, confusion evident on his face before he slowly reached out and took hold of the offered hand. "Harry Potter," he said, "it's nice to see you again, Doctor Granger."
Dan, Emma and Amelia all felt their jaws drop slightly at the sight of him. This kid was the same little boy they'd seen only a few months earlier? He was by no means a large child, but he had easily shot up a good four inches and looked to be at least a stone heavier than the kid they remembered when they dropped their children off at the beginning of the school year. He appeared a touch broader in the chest and across the shoulders and while it wasn't a truly dramatic transformation, it had been just enough to completely fool the adults present.
"Wow, clean living is doing you good, young man," Dan blurted out, his eyes wide. "That's quite a transformation, I didn't even recognize you."
"That'd be the potions we got him to ask the school healer about," Hermione said, proudly, until she saw Daphne looking at her with a single arched brow. "I mean, Daphne got him to ask," she admitted, sheepishly and Susan giggled at her friend. They chatted for a few moments longer before the Grangers turned to their daughter.
"We should get going, pumpkin," Dan said, ignoring the flush that bloomed in his daughters cheeks at the nickname.
"Daaaaadddd," she whined. "Don't call me that!"
"Say good bye to your friends, Hermione," Emma told her, trying and failing to hide a grin.
Hermione glared at her for a moment. "Traitor," she grumbled but quickly hugged Harry, Susan, and Daphne and told them she'd see them in just a few days before she and her parents stepped through the barrier and disappeared.
"Well," Amelia said as she turned to the three children remaining with her, "I think we should probably be on our way as well, don't you think?" she said in as friendly a tone as she could manage. She had the distinct feeling that it was likely to be a difficult holiday at times, and there was no reason to let her worries color her interactions with the children.
Amelia and Susan led Harry and Daphne to the far end of the platform where the largest fireplace that Harry had ever seen stood. "Now," Amelia said, turning to Harry, "ever traveled by Floo, Harry?"
He shook his head. "What's a Floo?"
Amelia chuckled. "I'll take that as a 'no' then. It's a method of traveling using fireplaces."
Harry eyed her, skeptically, for a moment and she laughed again.
"I'm completely serious, young man. Here's how it works." She pointed to an earthenware pot on the fireplace mantle, which she pulled down and opened to show him the light green powder inside.
"You take a small handful of this, throw it on the floor of the fireplace and then step inside and call out your destination. You have to speak clearly so you get the right place and be careful stepping out, it's a bit of a bumpy ride." She held the pot out to Susan. "Susan? Why don't you go first, hon? That way, Harry can see how it's done. Then Daphne so you two can steady him on the other side and I'll be right behind you."
"Of course, Auntie." Susan grabbed a handful of the powder and, striding toward the fireplace, called out, clearly, "The Boneyard!" just as she threw the powder into the bottom of the fireplace.
The powder hit and there was a loud FWOOSH and a giant fire bloom into existence just as Susan stepped into it.
Harry's reaction was startling, to say the least.
As Susan stepped into the green colored flames a jolt of terror ripped through him and he darted forward. "NO!" he roared, and reached for her.
"Mister Potter!"
"Harry, stop!"
His trainer caught on the edge of the grate, power welling up inside him as he reached for her, desperate to pull her from the flames, and he tumbled forward into her. Amelia pulled her hand back as Harry and Susan vanished and the charms on her monocle told her quickly what was about to happen.
The air around the Floo point crackled ominously and she grabbed Daphne, scooping her up into her arms and ran back down the platform away from the fireplace just as the whole thing exploded.
#####
"Welcome home, Neville."
Neville looked up at his Gran, her expression still set in her usual stern expression. "It's good to be home, Gran," he said and stepped forward after brushing the soot from his shoulders to wrap his gran in a quick hug. Augusta Longbottom was never extremely comfortable with overt expressions of affection. Which was not to say that she didn't love her grandson, she was just a far more reserved individual in her actions than most. As such the hug was brief, and Neville dropped his hands before extending his arm to her for her to take. She hooked her right arm through his elbow and the two made their way from the Floo Access at Longbottom Manor to the drawing room.
Once seated Flopsy, the Longbottom family house elf supplied refreshments before popping away and Neville waited patiently while he poured tea for his grandmother and served her. She took a long sip of her tea, humming quietly in appreciation before she settled back in the ancient wing backed chair that she preferred and studied her grandson where he sat across from her in a plush armchair with the Longbottom crest carefully stitched into the fabric.
"Your letters have been somewhat less than informative, recently," she said, not with accusation in her tone but curiosity. "Has it been such a boring year at Hogwarts that there is nothing to talk about to your old grandmother?"
Neville sighed. "Exactly the opposite, in fact, Gran," he admitted, attempting to put his thoughts in order. "As I mentioned, I met Harry on the train and told him about the old alliances between House Potter and House Longbottom. He was completely ignorant of his House and status in wizarding society since he was raised by his mother's muggle sister."
"And have you been doing your part to educate him?"
"I have. In fact, he used some of what I taught him to give a Slytherin friend of one of his… of a friend in our house the opportunity to be able to come sit with us at the Gryffindor table without losing face amongst the snakes or endangering herself in the process."
She arched a brow, both at what he'd said and at what he hadn't said. "How did he manage to do that?" asked, curious despite herself.
He grinned, still finding the entire situation amusing. "Well, in our group of friends at the time it was Harry and I, Daphne Greengrass, Susan Bones, and a muggleborn girl, Hermione Granger. The friend he was helping was Daphne. Her friend Tracey was sorted into Slytherin while Daphne ended up in Gryffindor with the rest of us. When Harry realized that Daphne wasn't spending any time with her friend, both because she was trying to spend time with him, and because of the different houses, he decided that he could not abide that and set out to change it." He took another sip of his tea, pausing to catch his breath for a moment.
"He walked right over to the Slytherin table in the middle of lunch and invited her to come sit with us at the Gryffindor table to spend time with Daphne."
Augusta snorted. "I imagine that didn't go over exceptionally well."
Neville grinned. "That's what we thought, at first, to be honest. She turned him down and he apologized for interrupting her and came back to sit. It wasn't until Daphne thanked him for trying but that she knew Tracey would never come sit with us when he surprised us all. I can't remember the exact words, but what it basically amounted to was he said that he never expected her to accept the invitation right away. But he made it, publicly, and so she could give it a few days and let her house know that when she does start sitting with us it was just using the invitation as a means to try and ingratiate herself toward either Harry, Susan, or myself."
Both brows rose that time. "That is rather clever," she admitted. "That is a credit to your ability to teach, Neville, well done."
He flushed slightly at the praise but thanked her in a clear, confident tone, rather than the usual stuttering and mumbling she had long come to expect from him. There was a confidence in her grandson that hadn't been there when he first left for school, and it filled her with joy to see him breaking out of his shell, even if she didn't express it often.
They talked for some time and as he told her everything that happened during the year she began to notice a pattern in his speech. A number of names became commonplace on his tongue. Hermione, Daphne, Susan, and to a lesser degree, Tracey and Hannah Abbot. The first three he would occasionally stumble over his words as he spoke, as if stopping himself from saying something.
"Tell me about Granger, Greengrass, and Bones," she said, abruptly, interrupting him as he was explaining something that happened during one of his Herbology classes.
He blinked, stuttering to a stop and considered the request for a moment. "Well, Hermione is muggleborn and a force of nature when it comes to school work. I'm pretty sure she's memorized all our course books and probably read her way through a significant portion of the library at this point. She's almost frighteningly intelligent and if she wasn't also extremely brave I would wonder why she wasn't placed in Ravenclaw.
"Daphne is absolutely gorgeous, everyone says that, but she's also scary smart and a lot more cunning than Hermione is. She should have been in Slytherin but she's fit in very well in Gryffindor with a few minor exceptions. Some of the other members of the house don't like her because of her family but she sticks close to Harry and me and everything is going well. Susan is, again, absolutely beautiful and should have been in Hufflepuff. She's extremely warm and friendly and likes and is liked by pretty much everyone. She'll go toe to toe against Malfoy without batting an eye, too."
"It sounds like you like these girls," she noted and he smiled and nodded.
"Yeah, there isn't a lot not to like. They're all three very nice girls and we've all become really good friends, them and Harry. Harry has several times thrown the old motto in my face when I start getting down on myself. He's quite firm about standing up for people and he's been gathering even more fame around the school completely unrelated to the whole Boy-Who-Lived garbage." The disgust in his tone was obvious and she found herself shocked to hear it from her grandson.
"The Boy-Who-Lived is an important-"
"Fantasy," he cut her off and her eyes widened in shock. He had never once cut her off before. "The Boy-Who-Lived, doesn't exist," he bit out. "Ever since I met Harry and got to know him I've seen how people treat him, and that's his peers, people that should see him as just another kid. They stare at him and point and whisper when he walks by and only a few of the things they talk about him for are things that he actually did. It drives him completely crazy and he hates it. What everyone's heard about the Boy-Who-Lived is complete fantasy. There are only a few people that know Harry and I'm proud to be one of them."
She leaned forward and stared intently at her grandson, studying him carefully. Normally when she did that he became quite flustered and looked away from her within seconds but this time he met her gaze steadily and refused to look away, even if she could still see that he was nervous. It was an incredible improvement over the child she'd seen to the Hogwarts Express at the beginning of September.
"You've changed, Neville," she said. "You're finally starting to show the great wizard I always knew was lurking in there."
He blushed but didn't look away. "It helps having good friends that won't let me crawl back into my shell," he admitted.
"Well, I have to say that they've been exceptionally good for you. I'm proud of you." She stood and pulled her grandson up and into a hug. Despite his pleased shock, he returned it fiercely, almost crushing her against him and a minute later she pulled back and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving him a fond smile.
"I think that's enough for now. We'll talk more at dinner. Why don't you go check on your greenhouse?"
"I'll do that, thank you Gran." Neville gave her a broad smile and hurried from the room, already going over a list of what he'd need to work on in his greenhouse while his grandmother watched him.
"Granger, Greengrass, Bones," she muttered. "I'll have to remember those names. I might need to contact the Head of House for one of those girls about a marriage contract in a few years…"
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They spun and twisted, colors and gaps showing offices, homes, and any number of other locations flying past them as they tumbled through… something. Harry couldn't begin to describe it. All he knew was the feeling of Susan in his arms and a distinct lack of burning pain, but before he could register the oddity of that realization, it ended.
There was a thunderous crack in the Floo room at Bones Manor. Green fire erupted from the fireplace and with a blast like a cannon shot, Susan and Harry were violently ejected from the fireplace at high speed. They flew through the air, easily clearing three meters off the ground and Susan opened her mouth to scream as Harry twisted, turning them in mid air so that he was under her. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for what he knew would be an incredibly painful landing.
He wasn't entirely wrong. The landing certainly did hurt as all the air was forcefully ejected from his lungs when Susan landed on top of him but the surface under his back wasn't hard floor, as he'd expected. It took him a moment to get his bearings, but it appeared that they had landed on a large, overstuffed sofa some eight meters from the fireplace. His entire body shook violently as he fought to draw breath into his bruised lungs but through it all his arms remained clasped tightly around Susan's body, refusing to let her pull away from him when she tried to sit up.
For her part, Susan wasn't as scared as she felt she might have been. Something strange was always happening around Harry Potter, and she knew that she was as safe as could be when she was with him. She could feel him trembling against her, her head tucked almost forcefully under his chin by the grip he had on her body. She became aware of a strange rumbling hum that she could hear vibrating in his chest from where her ear was pressed against him but she couldn't make out whatever words he was muttering.
A few moments later there was a second loud crack and Harry jumped. Somehow, he slipped out from under her and was standing so fast that she couldn't figure out how he moved. By the time she sat up he had positioned himself in front of her, his wand in hand as he stared down her aunt and Daphne, who had just arrived in the room behind them. Judging by the sound, Susan guessed that they had Apparated.
Immediately, Amelia shooed Daphne several steps away from her, eyeing the wand trained on her.
"Harry?" Daphne called, quietly. The boys eyes were wide, wild with terror and his hands shook violently but he still managed to keep his wand pointed in Amelia Bones' direction. "Harry, it's okay," she said.
"No it's not! It's not okay!" he snapped.
"It is, Harry. I promise, everything is fine."
"It was green."
Susan and Daphne blinked. Susan looked to her Aunt, who appeared as confused as she was, but no less wary of the wand pointed at her.
"What was green, Harry?"
"The fire."
Daphne nodded. "Yes, Harry," she agreed info a calm, soothing tone, Floo fire is green, that's how we know it's safe and that it won't burn us. The powder makes it safe."
"The fire was green. And the words. The words were loud. And the screaming."
Daphne wasn't sure that Harry was even looking at them anymore. His eyes were still wide but his gaze appeared unfocused, as if he was seeing something only he could view.
"What words, Harry?"
"Don' 'member.," he mumbled. "Words. And fire. Light. Green light. They died and I died and he died no I didn't die but he died and I was- I was- I was not dead. Dead, not dead. Green fire."
Susan and Daphne became more confused and more worried the longer he stood there. Susan's eyes were trained on her aunt, though. Amelia Bones' face paled significantly as Harry spoke, all the blood seeming to drain from her complexion and her eyes closed for a moment before she opened them again, tears welling up.
"Susan?" she called, gently, as Harry continued to mutter and mumble.
"Yes?"
"Catch him."
Susan blinked, and before she could think to respond, Amelia reached for her wand.
"REDUCTO!" The curse shot from Harry's wand, streaking through the air between him and the threat only he could see. Amelia dove to the side, away from Daphne, who was diving in the other direction. She rolled, came up on one knee and her wand snapped up.
"Stupefy," she whispered. Harry hadn't even managed to turn to follow her before the spell slammed into him, lifting him off the ground, back toward the couch, and into Susan's waiting arms.
"Sweet Morgana's tits," Amelia groaned. This was not good. "Daphne, Floo call St. Mungos. Tell them Amelia Bones requests that Healer Gant come here and that I want him here right bloody now. The wards will allow him through for the next ten minutes."
She flicked her wand and Harry's limp form floated up out of Susan's arms and preceded Amelia from the room. "Susan," she called behind her, "help me."
"Coming," Susan called. A moment later, as Daphne had her head in the fireplace, calling St. Mungos, Susan tore her eyes away from the meter wide hole Harry's Reducto had blown in the wall and scurried after her aunt.
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"Sit."
The single word was spoken in such a commanding tone that few would be willing to ignore it.
Daphne and Susan sat.
Amelia Bones sank into a small love seat across from the two girls and stared at them for several long, excruciating minutes.
"Binky," she said, finally. With a quiet pop, a house elf appeared, dressed smartly in a black uniform with the Bones family crest on the left breast of the jacket.
"Yous called for Binky, Mistress Bonesy?" the little creature squeaked.
"A bottle of Ogdens Finest and two butter beers, please, Binky."
"Right away, Mistress Bonesy."
Moments later all three held a drink in their hands and Amelia slowly sipped at her glass of fire whiskey.
"Do you two understand what happened here today?" she asked after she was half way through her glass and had taken more than a few deep, calming breaths.
Both girls shook their heads.
"I can only guess at the moment, but, I think the green of the fire triggered a memory that terrified that young man."
"What was it, Auntie?" Susan practically begged. "We've never seen Harry like that. He's usually so in control of his emotions, unless he's angry. When he's angry he's…" she trailed off, searching for the right word.
"Hot."
"Daphne!"
The blond arched a brow at Susan. "What? He is and you know it. The good thing is that he doesn't know it. When he's angry and goes all alpha male protecting us he's incredibly attractive, and I haven't even seen him do it as often as you have. The one time I got a good look at it was when he found out Madam Pomfrey wrote to Child Services about his scars. And he was mad at us at the time." She shuddered. "Gives me shivers."
"Explain." Amelia hid her smirk behind her glass at the sight of her flustered and blushing niece.
Susan glared at Daphne, who was totally untouched by her ire and simply sipped her drink. "When Harry gets angry… his control on his magic slips and..." she trailed off again for a moment. "Oh, dammit. Yes, he's hot," she admitted. "His eyes glow and his magic swirls around him. It whips his hair and his robes like he's standing in the middle of a high wind and the air around him feels heavy and just crackles with power." She shivered, an action that was mirrored by Daphne beside her.
"That's actually pretty common," Amelia said. "When powerful people release some of their aura like that… it has different effects on the people that see it happen. Based on the Reducto he used, I can already tell he's powerful. But that very same power worries me, a bit," she reluctantly admitted. "He doesn't seem to have a great deal of control, and power without control is dangerous. I wouldn't want to see either of you, or your third, Miss Granger, getting hurt."
"Harry would never hurt one of us. Hermione, Daphne, and I are probably the three safest witches in all of England with that boy near us," Susan immediately spoke out in Harry's defense.
Amelia hummed but said nothing either for or against her niece's statement.
"So… do you know what he was remembering?" Susan ventured, hesitantly after the silence had dragged on for several long minutes.
Amelia sighed and ran a hand back through her shoulder length hair. "I can only guess. But the way he spoke. Light. Green. Death. I can only imagine he was remembering the night that Voldemort killed his parents and tried to kill him. The killing curse is a very distinctive green color, and the sight of Susan walking into a wall of green flame must have triggered something."
Susan covered her mouth with one hand, anguish in her eyes at the very thought. "No wonder he was so scared," she muttered.
"He was more than scared, Susan," her aunt spoke gently, leaning forward in her seat to stare at her niece. "He destroyed the Floo access at Kings Cross."
Susan blinked.
She turned to face Daphne. "He did what?"
"Blew the whole damn thing to kingdom come."
"Magical backlash," Amelia said. "Floo travel uses the witches or wizards own power to fuel it. When Harry jumped in after you, he was agitated and his power was spiking. He overloaded the Floo." She set her glass down. "Suffice it to say that, even if he gets over this fear, he should probably avoid Floo travel in the future. I can only imagine that he'll become more powerful as time goes on and that will make travel by Floo rather violent for him unless he learns to drastically rein in his power."
"How did the two of you end up on the sofa anyway?" Daphne asked. "It didn't seem like we were that far behind you."
"We flew, sort of. When we came out we were shot out of the fire place at high speed. Must have cleared four meters before we landed on the sofa. And Auntie?"
Amelia gave her niece a questioning look.
"He protected me. Turned us in mid air so I'd land on top of him. He used his body to cushion the fall for me."
That surprised her. Amelia didn't know how to wrap her brain around the enigma that was Hary Potter. As an obviously abused child, it was strange for him to be so compassionate. Not unheard of, but strange. Many such children were filled with rage and hatred and just lashed out at anyone they could. But based on the little she'd seen and what Susan had written to her in her letters, he seemed to have quite the firm moral code.
"We can't abandon him, Madam Bones," Daphne spoke up. "We won't." The look she leveled at the older woman was calm and even, with a hint of steel in it. Beside her, Susan matched her stare and both girls waited for her to respond.
Amelia snorted and downed the rest of her drink in one gulp. "There was never a possibility of abandoning him. He's bonded to you, both of you and Miss Granger."
They nodded even though it hadn't been a question.
"There's no breaking a bond like that so it was never going to happen. Only question is how do we go about helping him and helping you girls? He's obviously troubled, seems like a good kid and he doesn't deserve what's happened to him, but he's going to have a hard time of it for a while, and his reactions and such will help determine how best to approach him." She set her glass down on the low table between them and stood. "I'd like to see that protective streak of his, though. I think I'd feel better getting to witness it for myself."
That time Daphne was the one to snort, derisively. "Wait till he meets Daddy. Pretty sure you'll see it at some point during my parents visit here."
"Should I be worried?"
"I don't think Harry will hurt him. Depends on what Daddy pulls, I guess." Daphne shrugged, nonchalantly.
Both brows climbed toward her hairline at that. Amelia knew Cyril Greengrass fairly well. He wasn't a master duelist or anything, but he was still quite the formidable and powerful adult wizard. Daphne seemed to feel that the eleven-year-old boy passed out in one of the guest bedrooms was a match for a man three times his age.
"Get some rest, girls," she told them. "Harry isn't going anywhere and the healer and I need to talk to see what needs to be done."
The girls finished their drinks, said goodnight, and made their way to Susan's room where they were sharing. Amelia had little doubt they would be up half the night talking and worrying, but she had bigger concerns.
She called for Binky and had him clean up the refuse from their drinks before making her way to the guest room where Healer Gant was sitting with Harry.
"Come," he called when she knocked gently on the door. "Amelia," he said when she slipped into the room, quietly acknowledging her presence but otherwise devoting all his attention to the orb in his hand. It was about the size of a fist, translucent, and filled with an ethereal blue light that was cast over the young boy lying in the large four poster bed.
"What's the good word," she murmured quietly.
"Bolloxed."
Amelia frowned. "That isn't a good word."
"It's the only one I have at the moment. Amelia, you have to get this kid away from wherever it is that he's living. I'm honestly amazed he's as held together as he is, but he's not going to last forever. He's eventually going to crack and, based on the redecorating he did to your Floo access room, you know as well as I do that it won't be good for anyone's health when he does."
Amelia thought for a moment, gnawing on her lower lip as she did. "Are you okay to come talk?"
He nodded. "He'll be out for a while, probably until tomorrow afternoon." He put away the orb he still held and picked up his bag, following her out of the room and back to the sitting room she'd just vacated.
Sitting, Gant accepted a glass of Ogden's and sipped it appreciatively.
"So, what can you tell me? Whatever falls under my purview as I'm heading the investigation I've launched into his living situation."
He gestured to his bag. "The Merlinial Orb tells us a lot, scanning surface thoughts, but not everything. Unlike true Leglimancy, it can't delve into older memories, or even target specific memories, just kinda gives me an overview of his mental state. From what it can tell me though, he's been through hell, plain and simple. I've known Aurors and hit wizards with a bare fraction of the number of scars. Diagnostic charms show dozens of broken bones that healed badly or were never set properly. The potion regimen he's on should get him close to the weight and height he should be but the bones might cause some issues as he grows. Personally I'd like to get him in St. Mungos for a week to vanish the affected bones and regrow them. On the mental side of things, I think his other young lady, Granger, was it?" he asked.
"Yes, Hermione Granger."
"Well I think she almost snagged the snitch on that one, based on what you told me Susan said. He's a borderline sociopath, 'cept there's a couple determining factors that means he isn't one, really. The main one is that a true sociopath has no regard for other people. He has a very high regard for some people, but others could die right in front of him and depending on the circumstances he wouldn't feel anything about their deaths. He recognizes most emotions when he sees them, but has little ability to truly feel them save the negative. He's intimately familiar with rage, hate, fear, pain, disgust, loathing, etcetera. He's never been shown an ounce of kindness or compassion from the people he lives with and absolutely no affection of any kind."
He took a long sip of his drink before lowering his hand to rest the glass on his knee. "This kid has a serious magical core, too. I can only imagine it's because of what he's suffered over the years."
She gave him a blank look so he continued. "All the beatings he's taken and the damage done to him. I'm pretty sure his magic is the only reason he's still alive, it would have done its best to protect him and heal his body. Because his core was basically working overtime for so long it's grown larger, considerably. Magic is like a muscle…"
"The more you use it, the stronger it gets," she finished the old saying and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in a vain attempt to stave off a headache.
"Exactly. And this kid's been getting a workout on the daily for a long time. I'd put him on par with some fully matured adults. Now, the problem becomes that I have no idea what that means for the long run." She quirked a questioning eyebrow at him so he elaborated. "Basically, I see one of two possibilities here with this kid. You know how our cores develop through the school years and get stronger until we reach full maturity and our magical core stabilizes, right?"
She nodded worry gnawing at her gut.
"Well, I have no idea if his core did that already or not. It's possible that in an effort to protect him the core went through all the maturation phases and is fully developed at age eleven. It would be extremely unusual, but possible."
"Or?" she prodded.
"Or I was correct in my initial assessment, and the size of his core is purely due to it getting such a steady workout over the last several years. If that is the case, then it means he still has his normal growth phases to go through which means there is no telling how powerful he's going to be when he grows up."
Amelia's eyes were wide as she considered the, frankly, frightening implications behind option number two. "Is there any way to determine which conclusion is the most likely to be correct?" she asked.
Gant shook his head. "The only thing we can do is observe him over the next few years. If in two years his core goes through a jump in growth we know that he's on track two of my possible options. Either way, he's got to get some healing done on the mental scars or he'll be an incredibly dangerous and entirely unpredictable wild card in a few years."
"Should he be placed under a mind healers care at St. Mungos?"
Gant shook his head, immediately. The lack of hesitation did a great deal to comfort her.
"No. If his situation were different I would think differently, but that young man has a unique support structure unlike anything anyone has ever seen."
"The bond?"
He nodded and took another sip of his drink. "He's been suppressing his emotions for a long time now. Shoving them deep down where they can't hurt him. Hope and the idea of anything positive has been well and truly suppressed so that he doesn't know how to express it, doesn't know how to let himself truly feel it. I'd imagine he's an incredible actor, faking the emotions he knows he should be feeling.
"This bond he has to the girls. He can feel the things that they feel. So it'll help coax his emotions out and let him recognize them and start to express them himself. I've calmed the fear he felt tonight. He'll still remember what happened, eventually, it'll be muddied at first but the memories will come back, slowly, and he won't be overwhelmed by that terror when he wakes up. When they go back to school I'd like to arrange to swing by and see him once a week, monitor his progress and offer any help I can."
"The girls and I would appreciate that, Gant. And I'll talk to him. From what I understand he was less than pleased when he found out that Madam Pomfrey at Hogwarts informed my offices about his condition when she first saw the scars he has. He was under the impression that her Healers Oath would prevent her from speaking of it to anyone."
He nodded, pale amber eyes regarding her thoughtfully. "That's fairly common, actually. In a strange way, a lot of kids that have been abused are the most reluctant to actually do anything about it when the opportunity presents itself. There's a lack of trust in authority figures. Plus, my theory is that many just get so used to the situation, and they're ashamed, or even start to feel like they deserve it, and just don't want anyone to know. Even the people that could help them."
They talked for another hour longer before Amelia saw the healer to the Floo and after he departed she checked on the girls, finding them both sound asleep in Susan's bed, and then turned in for the night.
It was some time before her mind quieted enough for sleep to claim her.
#####
Harry's eyes snapped open and quickly flitted about the room, taking in as much information as he could and processed it as quickly as possible.
The room was considerably larger than his cupboard, and probably equal to the size of his dorm room at school where five students shared space. In other words, it was a damn large room. He sat up slowly in the bed, looking around as he moved. Aside from the bed there was a nightstand on his right side of the bed and a large fireplace directly across from him with a low table an armchair and a small sofa between the two. Plush carpet covered the floor in a soft tan and cream colored walls were bare of any pictures, paintings, or other decoration.
Harry slipped from the bed, looking around for his bag which he eventually found sitting on top of a chest that was placed at the foot of the bed. He dug through the bag, quickly selecting a change of clothes. Minutes later, dressed in clean clothes, he slipped from the room out into the hall. It was a long hallway that seemed to run the length of the building, but he couldn't be entirely certain of the shape or layout from where he was. He needed to see more. So he set off to explore, much as he'd done during his first week at Hogwarts. He still hadn't told any of the girls or his dorm mates about his nighttime wanderings. It was just something he felt he needed to do. He needed to know the escape routes, the hiding places, the nooks, the crannies, the out of the way places that people overlook or don't typically know about.
After wandering the first floor for a while he determined that it was almost entirely bedrooms with one game room and one study with shelves filled with books. In the bedroom immediately across from the one he'd woken in he found Daphne and Susan, sharing a bed and huddled in each others arms as if seeking comfort. He couldn't really understand why, but he was careful not to wake them and closed the door behind him.
To his left from leaving their room at the very end of the hall was another door which opened into a much larger bedroom. He could vaguely make out the sleeping form of Amelia Bones beneath the blankets and quickly and quietly closed the door.
He didn't notice a pair of deep blue eyes open or the wand tip that lit up gently in the room behind him.
Downstairs on the first floor he found a much more open layout. Instead of closed doors at every turn there were simple archways separating various rooms. There was a large kitchen that dominated on side end of the house, what looked like a parlor or sitting room, a formal looking dining room and a smaller, less elegantly decorated dining room that he figured was for smaller or family gatherings. In one room he found a large, black, grand piano and stood for many long minutes, staring at it with naked longing in his eyes. Eventually, he shook himself and moved on.
In the back yard he found a nicely appointed patio with comfortable looking patio furniture, a fire pit with a small fire burning steadily in it and a large pool, complete with a diving board. He carefully skirted the pool in the dark, not wanting to chance falling in since he couldn't swim.
"What do you think of the place?"
Harry jumped nearly a foot into the air, biting back a strangled cry of surprise and spun to the voice that had come from behind him. There was a blurred figure standing there and a moment later it shivered, like heat waves in the air, and the shape of Amelia Bones became visible, her wand held loosely in one hand.
"I'm sorry," he spit out quickly. "I woke up and I just wanted to look around, get a feel for the place and I didn't mean to bother anyone or anything-"
"Harry, it's fine," she said holding up a hand to stop him as she verbally cut him off. "No one is upset with you. I'm surprised to find you awake though, I was told you would likely sleep until tomorrow afternoon and it is barely," she looked at her watch, a small but elegant gold timepiece, "five in the morning."
He didn't know what to say to that so just shrank in on himself slightly and shuffled his feet nervously.
"Well, we're up. Do you feel that you could get back to sleep or would you rather begin your day?" she asked, kindly.
"I'm not certain I could sleep right now."
"Then why don't we see about finding something for breakfast. Are you hungry?" His stomach's loud growl was answer enough and she chuckled quietly as his face pinked up. "Nothing to worry about," she assured him. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and see what Binky can put together for us? Once the girls are up we can get some food into them and we'll head to Diagon Alley later in the morning so you can all get your Christmas shopping done How does that sound?"
"That sound's fine, Madam Bones," he said. "Thank you very much for inviting me over, I can't exactly remember if I said that yesterday…"
"But?" she said, hearing the question in his tone.
"But… well, what happened?" he finally blurted out. "I don't remember getting here or going to bed…" he trailed off helplessly, looking up at her for some kind of explanation.
By that time they'd entered the kitchen to find a pot of coffee waiting and a kettle on the burner for tea. Amelia gave the coffee pot a curious look as she'd never had one in her home before. Obviously Binky was going that extra step to make young Harry feel welcome since between the two of them, Amelia couldn't stand coffee.
"That smells amazing," he muttered, starting at the pot with any almost wistful longing.
"Please, help yourself, Harry, and we'll sit and chat for a bit."
He gave her an incredulous look for a moment, certain that she had to be kidding before slowly approaching the pot. He reached out and snagged a simple white coffee mug with one hand before pouring himself a cup. A glance around and he found a small tray that appeared with a quiet pop bearing a small bowl piled with sugar cubes and a dish of cream. He ignored the cream but added two sugars and stirred his coffee for a moment. Her eyes almost bulged out when he reached for a salt shaker and poured a pinch of salt into the mug as well before carefully wiping the spoon and setting it on the dish.
Every action he took was smooth and precise and if Amelia hadn't known better she might have thought he was just a contentious and polite lad. The exorbitant care he took not to drip or make any kind of mess screamed to her that he was used to, even expected, bad things to happen if he so much as dripped a single drop of something onto a clean surface.
She busied herself with her tea, making a point of splashing a bit more than she might have with her two sugars and a squeeze of lemon. She negligently set the spoon on the pristine counter, ignoring the small puddle of tea that formed under it and made her way to the large table that filled one side of the room. She sat at the head of the table and a tray of scones and breakfast pastries appeared on the table between her and where Harry took the seat to her right so the corner of the table was between them.
"You were wondering about last night?" she prodded.
"Yes. I just don't remember what happened after we met you at the station yesterday."
"Well, that is a bit of a story. There was some excitement but before I tell it I would like you to make me a promise, if you would."
"Of course, Ma'am."
"Harry?"
"Yes, Ma'am?"
"It's Amelia."
"Yes, Ma'am."
She suppressed a sigh but didn't push him on it yet, there would be time enough for that as he got better. "Anyway, I want you to promise me that you will not get upset, you will not blame yourself, or feel bad over what happened. I promise you that no one here feels anything but concern and worry for you. No one is upset with you, or mad at you, and you will see no hostility from anyone here. Am I understood?"
"Yes, Ma'a… A-Amelia. I promise to remain calm."
"Not exactly what I meant, but close enough for now, I guess." So she took a sip of her tea as he took his first sip of coffee, his eyes crinkling at the corners in delight at the taste of the coffee, and began the tale.
She quickly went over what happened and explained the Floo system to him again, giving a more thorough description of how it worked and how the color of the flames indicated that the connection between Floo points was active. She even gave a brief overview of the Floo network itself, explaining how it was originally invented from her limited knowledge and offered to get him a few books on the subject since the idea fascinated him the more he learned about it.
"I did what?" he blurted out in surprise when she got to the part where he left a giant hole in the wall of their Floo access room with a single Reducto curse. She decided not to mention how he destroyed the fireplace at Kings Cross Station.
"Remember," she said, quietly when he started to look panicked, "no one blames you or is upset with you. You were scared, and you reacted. Susan tells me that when the two of you were launched out of the Floo you somehow turned yourselves in the air so that you used your own body to cushion her landing, protecting her."
He ducked his head, flushing and played with the empty coffee mug in front of him. "I don't remember doing that," he muttered then suddenly sat up sharply. "I would do it again, though. I would never let anything hurt Susan, Daphne, or Hermione if I could do anything about it," he said and she gave him a gentle smile, reaching out to pat one of his hands.
"I'm beginning to understand that, Harry, and I can't begin to tell you how good that makes me feel, to know those girls have such a good friend looking out for them."
He flushed again and muttered something that might have been a 'you're welcome' or 'no problem', it was somewhat difficult to tell. He stood from the table and went over to the coffee pot.
"How are you handling this situation with the girls?" she asked suddenly, startling him as he was pouring himself a second cup of coffee.
He jumped and cursed quietly when he spilled a bit, hurrying to clean up the mess he'd made. "Umm… how do you mean?" he stammered as he cleaned, trying very hard not to look in her direction.
"I mean, how are you handling it? Is it all overwhelming or confusing? How do you feel about the whole situation?"
He shrugged and finished preparing his coffee while he thought over the question. "I'm doing okay with it, I guess. I mean, I still don't really know what the whole thing means. The sorting hat told Hermione, Susan, and Daphne not to tell me some parts of it yet. That kind of ticks me off, to be honest, but I trust them, so I can let it be, for now. I'm not really sure why they wouldn't fill me in on all the details too just so I know all of what's happening…" he trailed off and shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly.
He didn't exactly fool Amelia though, trained investigator that she was. It was easy enough for her to tell that he didn't care much for not having all the information but she could understand why they wouldn't fill him in on everything.
"I'd like to broach another topic, if I may?" she said, deciding to steer away from that topic for the moment. He gave her a questioning look and she took a deep breath before launching into it, "About your living conditions…" she saw him immediately tense up but pushed on. "I don't want to pry if you don't want to talk about it. I have to conduct an investigation since it was brought to my offices attention but I can't force you to cooperate if you really don't want to. But I do have one question. Do you want to continue living there?"
"Is the Sahara desert actually a Rain Forest?" he bit out before he could stop himself. "No, A-Amelia. I don't want to live there."
"You have options." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, a frown marring her features as she thought over the situation. "From what I can tell talking to Susan over the years, what you've dealt with there is nothing short of criminal abuse. Neglect as well. I wish the situation was just as simple as 'that's it, you'll not be going back this summer', but there's a few more hoops to jump through than that. I've been looking into it but it has to be done delicately and with as few people knowing the details as possible." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next part of the discussion. "I'm going to need for you to talk about it, Harry, if you really want to get out of that house."
The blind terror that stole over his face nearly broke her heart but she kept going before he could interrupt. "Not right this second, not even during the holidays, though it might be best to do it as soon as possible. But you're going to have to tell someone what happened. We'll need your statement for the case against them, and to get you removed from their care."
He nodded dumbly, head down and Amelia decided that he needed a break.
"We'll talk about it again before you head back to school," she told him. "In the meantime why don't you go get ready for the day while I get the girls up and we'll head for Diagon, sound good?"
"Thank you," he breathed, still barely able to believe what he was hearing. He did his best to shove down the sense of hope that started welling up in his chest. Hope had never ended well for Harry James Potter, and until he saw otherwise he refused to let himself be too optimistic.
#####
The fire in the Leaky Cauldron flared bright and green three times, and each time a person stepped from the flames into the dingy pub. Harry stood with his back to the fireplace and flinched each time he heard the whooshing flair of the fire.
Amelia placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. It really hadn't taken much to convince Harry to let her side-along apparate him to the old pub, but it had taken a lot more to convince him that the girls would be perfectly okay taking the Floo. She might have taken them side-along as well, one at a time, but it was exhausting doing it that way and she really didn't feel like pushing herself too much. That might have ended up being more dangerous.
"See? Floo is perfectly safe to use."
"I'm just broken." He heaved out a morose sigh, his gaze fixed on the ground just in front of his trainers.
She squeezed his shoulder. "Broken can be fixed, Harry," she whispered in his ear before letting go and stepping over to collect the girls, waving her wand to remove the soot that had collected on their robes during their trip.
As soon as she was clear of soot Hermione rushed over and threw her arms around Harry.
"I told you it'd be fine," she muttered into his ear and he nodded woodenly. He didn't really know what to say to that so he didn't. Hermione had arrive at seven that morning. She hadn't been pleased that they hadn't gone to get her after the events of the previous day but Susan and Daphne had at least had the sense to send her an owl. She'd been beside herself when the abject terror Harry had felt the day before had spilled over to her through their link and she had no idea what was happening.
Before she could dwell more on the matter Amelia clapped her hands sharply, getting all four children's attention and Hermione stepped back, releasing Harry who slowly relaxed a bit after she let go of him. "So," Amelia said, smiling brightly, "barring a major catastrophe, I have the next few days off and tomorrow is Christmas eve so we've got some shopping to do. Where to first?"
The girls and Harry exchanged looks.
"Umm… well I should probably go to Gringotts," he said. "I'll need to pull some money from my vault. Should I meet you all somewhere?"
"Don't be silly, Harry. We'll go with you and wait while you conduct your business."
He ducked his head slightly and shuffled his feet nervously. "I don't want to hold anyone up."
"Harry." The tone in Amelias voice caught his attention more than the word itself. It was calm, patient, and kind. Spoken with a compassion he had so rarely ever witnessed. He looked up to find her smiling gently at him, the girls flanking her on either side. "We are here together as a family, of sorts. So this is a family outing. We're not just going to fly off and leave you to your own devices and you need money from your vault so that is what we'll do. You aren't inconveniencing us in any way and we have the entire day to do our shopping so you've nothing to be concerned about."
Harry felt that his throat had closed up somehow, and knew that words would fail him if he tried to speak, so he simply offered her a small smile and nodded, quickly.
"All right, then." Amelia turned and stepped over to speak to the old barman that Harry had met on his first trip to the Alley with Hagrid. "Tom? It's a pleasure to see you again but we're just passing through at the moment, we'll stop by for lunch so could I reserve one of the empty rooms for one o'clock?"
"Of course Madam Bones. I'll be sure everything is set up for your party. Five?"
"Unless we run into any of their school friends, yes. Thank you, Tom."
With that she ushered them toward the entrance to the alley and tapped the appropriate bricks with her wand. Harry and Hermione both stared in awe at the sight while Susan and Daphne watched them, small smiles on their lips. They were used to the sight of Diagon Alley around the holidays and it was a treat for them to see the awe and joy in their friends faces.
Every inch of the Alley was decorated to the nines for the holidays. Christmas trees stood outside store entrances, wreathes were nailed over doors and windows. Fairy lights winked and shimmered through the air as a gentle snow fall trickled down from the sky above.
All in all, it was beautiful.
It took them some time to reach the steps of the bank as the children stopped frequently to point out one marvel or another. Even Amelia, long inured to the touch of magic around the holidays, found herself viewing everything in a new light, inspired by the open wonder in the younger faces with her.
The five of them trooped up the steps into the bank, past the great silver doors with their message of warning to thieves, and Amelia stopped Harry with a hand on his shoulder. "We'll wait for you over here, okay?" she asked, indicating a row of seats against one wall near the entrance.
Harry nodded and thanked her with a small smile before glancing at the long row of goblin tellers. One of them caught his eye, and though several were open he stepped up behind the wizard conducting business and waited patiently for his turn. A few of the open tellers eyed him curiously but made no move to offer to help.
When it was his turn he stepped up, carefully reviewing what he had read about goblins in his mind.
"Yes?" the goblin asked.
"Teller Griphook," Harry said, addressing the creature by name. "It is a pleasure to see you today. May your enemies blood coat your blade," he said, bowing slightly but never taking his eyes from the goblins.
Griphook hid his surprise well, eyeing the young, shabbily dressed individual in front of him. Wizards never treated Goblins with respect. They never addressed them by name, and they never used Goblin protocol when addressing them.
"And may their gold fill our vaults," he said, almost working on autopilot as he returned the bow from his seated position behind the counter.
Harry straightened, giving him a close lipped smile. It was considered an act of aggression to bare ones teeth to a goblin, and Harry had made certain to look up as much as he could regarding them, knowing he would need to deal with them in the future.
"Forgive me, Mister Potter," Griphook said. "It is unusual for a wizard to address us as to our custom, even more so for one to remember a goblins name."
"You were the first goblin I ever met or spoke to," Harry said. "You certainly made an impression and I felt it was only polite to treat you respectfully."
Griphook nodded slowly, humming slightly to himself. This was a wizard to watch in the years to come, he decided, and straightened up in his seat. "How may Gringotts assist you today, Mister Potter."
"I needed to visit my vault, please to withdraw some money. I also hoped to acquire any statements or information I may need regarding House Potter if they are available at this time."
"Hmmm… is there a reason you did not ask about these things during you previous visit?" Griphook asked.
Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I didn't know there was anything to ask. My friend at school, Neville Longbottom, has informed me that Potter is an old name, and that I will, in the future, be taking over as Head of House. I have been attempting to research on my own as to what that would entail but…" he trailed off, waving one hand in a helpless gesture. "I am new to the wizarding world, and I'm learning more and more that there is a lot more for me to learn than just how to throw around spells and do magic."
Behind Griphook a younger goblin was listening carefully, and at a hidden gesture from the teller he scurried off to carry a message.
"And you have not asked other wizards for their assistance?" Griphook asked, eyeing the young wizard curiously.
"Why would I ask a wizard about something that is controlled by the goblins? Your people run the bank, so it stood to reason that asking a Goblin made the most sense. In regards to dealing with other wizards and witches I have been getting instruction from my friend Neville."
Griphook nodded, his estimation of the young man rising a few more notches as their conversation continued. "I can take you to your vault, if you like, Mister Potter. When we return I can also take you to visit your accounts manager."
Harry hesitated for a moment, the indecision clear on his face.
"Is that not acceptable to you?"
"No, it's fine. Only… I have people that are waiting for me. Would it be a terribly long meeting to speak with the accounts manager today or could I return at a later date?"
"The manager could keep today to a brief meeting, simply handing over a portfolio detailing your accounts status and any pertinent information. You understand that, as a minor, there is some information not available to you until you reach your majority?"
Harry nodded.
"If this can be done quickly, then I would prefer to see the manager today, thank you, Griphook." Harry paused. "I'm sorry, is it simply Griphook, or is there a family name you would prefer to be addressed as?"
Griphook smiled, keeping his lips tightly closed. "There are clan names, Mister Potter. However they are reserved for other Goblins. To wizards we refer to ourselves simply as our given names. But I do appreciate you asking."
Griphook jumped down from his seat and came around the counter, motioning for Harry to follow him. "This way, Sir."
"It's just Harry," Harry said, but followed Griphook without any hesitation.
#####
"Madam Bones?" Amelia turned at the voice, looking down to find a goblin standing a few feet away.
"Yes?" she asked. It was unusual for a goblin to approach a wizard or witch outside of direct business with the bank.
"Mister Potter has expressed an interest in speaking with the Potter Accounts Manager. He was concerned that your party was waiting for him but has been assured that it would be a brief meeting. Teller Griphook has asked me to inform you so that you would not be concerned at any possible delay before his return to you."
Amelia blinked, completely surprised. "Thank you," she managed to mutter before the goblin bowed and strode away. She stared after him, her mouth hanging open slightly.
"Aunty? What's wrong?"
She turned back to her niece noticing all three girls staring at her in concern.
"Nothing. Really, I'm just surprised."
"Why is that, Madam Bones?" Hermione asked.
"Well, Harry is apparently meeting with his accounts manager and the goblins sent someone over to let us know."
"Why is that surprising?"
"Goblins don't tend to concern themselves overly with witches and wizards," she explained. "For one of them to go out of his way to inform us that Harry might be a little while is… unusual. He must have done something to impress them."
The girls shrugged after a few moments, not really sure what to make of the matter, and returned to their conversation. While they waited, Amelia continued to turn over the implications in her mind.
She smiled to herself. One thing was for sure. Having Harry Potter in their lives, certainly wouldn't be boring.
#####
"This way, Mister Potter."
"Please, Griphook, it's just Harry," Harry tried for the fifth time.
"Of course it is, Mister Potter."
Harry sighed. He was starting to understand how other people felt when he did that to them.
The goblin waved him into a small office. Scrolls filled a shelf along one wall and a tapestry depicting a massive battle between opposing armies dominated another. Directly across from the tapestry stood a large wooden desk and behind it sat another goblin. This one appeared much older than Griphook, but it was difficult to tell. Sharp eyes regarded Harry carefully as he entered the room and took a seat in the single chair standing before the desk. Harry was beginning to feel for all the world as if he'd been called to the headmasters office for stepping out of line.
"Mister Potter," the goblin said as Griphook closed the door and moved to stand behind his superiors chair.
"Yes, Sir."
"May name is Sharpshard. Accounts Manager for the House of Potter."
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir," Harry said, inclining his head in a slight bow. He'd never figured out how people managed to bow from a seated position. "May your enemies gold line your vaults," he said. The greeting was different when speaking to goblins of varying age or station. For a younger goblin, like Griphook, the thrill of battle and besting of an opponent rivaled even that of their love for gold. For an older goblin, as Sharpshard appeared to be, the collection of wealth was paramount.
"And may their blood coat your blades, young Sir," Sharpshard finished the formal greeting. "It is refreshing to see the niceties observed in one so young," he added and Harry shrugged.
"I have done my best to research your people," he said. "I noticed the last time that I was here a lot of wizards and witches treating the goblins rather… poorly. That doesn't make sense to me."
Sharpshard gave him a piercing look. "Why is that, Mister Potter?"
"Well, the goblins control the banks."
"So?"
"All my gold is here. In your building. It strikes me as counterproductive to antagonize the people that are in charge of protecting my gold."
Sharpshard regarded him for a moment longer before letting out a short, barking laugh. "If only all wizards saw the obvious as well as you do, young man."
Harry shrugged again, sweating slightly as he tried to keep everything he'd learned about the goblins at the forefront of his mind.
"Please," Sharpshard said, waving a hand so that a small tea seat and a tray of biscuits appeared. "Be at ease. How can I help you today." Behind him Griphook started but made no other motion.
Harry quickly poured himself a cup and reached for a second, glancing at Sharpshard in question as he waited, the kettle held in one hand poised over the cup. Sharpshard nodded and Harry poured, passing the cup to the aged goblin once it was full.
Harry sat back in his chair, cup in hand with a biscuit sitting on the edge of the saucer. "I was hoping I could get a statement, or some sort of overview of the status of my accounts. It's been brought to my attention that I will be the Head of my House, eventually, and I realize that I'm rather behind schedule in learning what, entirely, that entails. I've no experience in managing finances or property, and my peers with such concerns have been receiving lessons from a young age in preparation for them reaching their majority."
"It is a wise man that seeks help when he needs it."
"I don't see myself as wise, Sir. Just aware that I am in over my head, and I could use some guidance."
"Knowing when to ask for help is a sign of wisdom, young man. Never let anyone tell you that seeking help when you truly need it is a weakness." Sharpshard set aside his cup and reached for a thick leather bound folder which he held out. "This is the layout of the Potter vaults. It will detail gold, properties, physical items held in storage, etcetera."
"Excuse me, 'vaults'? As in more than one?" Harry accepted the folder and set his cup down, flipping the portfolio open.
"Yes. The House of Potter has three vaults. The trust vault that you currently have access to. The Potter Ancestral vault, and a third filled with personal items, family heirlooms and such."
Harry's eyes were wide as he glanced through the figures detailed on the pages in the binder.
"This is…"
"It's a bit much isn't it?" Sharpshard said, a knowing grin on his face.
"It's insane, is what it is!" he burst out. "Investments, properties. I don't have the slightest clue what to do with this."
"Nothing needs to be done with it, at the moment."
"How do you mean, Sir?"
"Mister Potter, you are young, still. Until you reach your majority, or until you decide to accept your status as Head of House, whichever comes first, you won't need to directly handle anything here. That is my job."
Harry eyed the goblin, warily. "You said whichever comes first. I thought I had to reach my majority before I could take on the Head of House."
Sharpshard shifted in his seat and Harry's eyes narrowed.
"There's something that you aren't telling me," he said.
"I am not certain to what extent that you are informed, Mister Potter, and I do not wish to step on any powerful toes."
Harry flicked through the folder, his eyes flitting back and forth rapidly across the pages for a few moments.
"From what I see here, the Potter accounts are one of the oldest in Gringotts," Harry mused.
"Yes, Sir. Nearly as old as those of the Founders."
"Wouldn't mine, then, be a rather powerful set of toes for you to step on?"
Sharpshard grinned. "Oh I think I am going to like you, young man. Yes, it would do Gringotts a great disservice should you decide that we are not providing the best of service in regards to your accounts."
"Then please explain what you meant by whichever comes first. I really do not like it when people lie to me or withhold information from me."
Sharpshard hesitated again for a moment. "Should not your betrothed be present for this?" he asked finally.
Harry felt certain his eyes had just bulged out of his head. "My what!?" he blurted out, too shocked to be embarrassed how his voice cracked and shot up in pitch.
"Your betrothed, Sir." Sharpshard picked up a piece of parchment off his desk and glanced at it. "A Miss Hermione Granger, Miss Daphne Greengrass, and Miss Susan Bones."
"Wha- bu- whe- we're not…," Harry stuttered for a moment before trailing off, completely at a loss.
Sharpshard frowned. "Do you not share a Soul Bond with the three ladies mentioned?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone.
"Well, yeah. That's what we were told. But the sorting hat at Hogwarts said that the whole soul mates thing doesn't necessarily mean that we'd end up in a romantic relationship. And even then we're too young to be thinking about getting married," he burst out.
"Ah, that seems to be where the confusion lies." Sharpshard folded his hands on the desk in front of him. "Please, young man, drink your tea and compose yourself for a moment. I will explain everything that I can. And as quickly as I can. I believe that you still have people waiting on you?"
Harry nodded and gulped down his tea. He glanced at the cup for a moment before sighing. "I don't suppose you have any coffee available, would you?" he asked, almost plaintively.
Sharpshard grinned and waved his hand again. A coffee pot and a mug appeared on the table and Harry gratefully poured himself a cup. There was nothing to add to it so Harry assumed goblins prefered their coffee black and unsweetened. He could deal with that.
"Mister Potter. I see that there has been some confusion. The hat was not wrong, that a soul mates link does not always end in romantic entanglement. However, what you have with these young ladies goes beyond soul mates to a full Soul Bond. That is an entirely different kettle of fish. The Soul Bond means that you four will be as close as it is possible to be, eventually. There is growth, and learning on all parts to be done. But as far as Magic itself is concerned, as far as Gringotts is concerned, you are a man courting three women with the intent of marriage, Mister Potter. When, and if you ever decide to complete the bond you will be considered married under the laws of magic. Documents will automatically be filed in your names with the Ministry but these documents will not go into effect until you publicly claim them as your wives in front of at least a hundred witnesses.
"That isn't the important point here though. As the final member of your house, you should have been able to take up your role as Head of House on your eleventh birthday. Since you will need to secure the continuation of your family line it makes it easier if you take up your status as Head of House as soon as possible."
Harry gaped at Sharpshard for a moment longer before he shook himself out of his stupor. "What exactly would that mean?" he asked.
"There are many benefits to being the Head of House. One being that you would be technically emancipated in the eyes of wizarding law. You would be responsible for yourself as any legal adult would. Your magical guardian, assigned to you after the death of your parents, would no longer be able to make any decisions regarding you. You would also receive full access to those vaults you would normally be denied before your majority. One of those obscure wizarding laws, meant to allow the inheritance of wealth for pureblood heirs."
"I'm not a pureblood," Harry pointed out, almost hopefully.
"But you are the last member of a Most Ancient and Nobel House, that allows you to fall under the emancipation as far as the laws of wizards are concerned."
"So basically they're picking and choosing what they want to recognize and ignoring what they dislike."
"More or less, yes."
Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm too young for this shite," he muttered morosely. "There are no other immediate obligations? Neville mentioned a seat on the Wizengamont and I can assure you, I'm not ready for that."
"You cannot take that seat before your majority. That is a separate law and your being emancipated would not affect that at all. You would have the right to appoint a proxy for your seat to sit and vote in your stead until you are ready to take up your seat yourself. You would also be able to perform magic out of school as well, something that is denied minors under wizarding law."
Harry considered that for several moments, sipping quietly at his coffee. "Who is my current Magical Guardian?" he asked. "And what does that person do?"
"Our records show that it is Albus Dumbledore. And the Magical Guardian makes decision that would affect you in the wizarding world, such as where you live, school matters, etcetera."
"So it's Dumbledore that left me with my mothers sister?" The dangerous note in Harry's voice caught Sharpshards attention. He glanced up to find the green eyes of the young wizard before him glowing brightly as the air around him suddenly became heavy.
"Mister Potter!" he barked and Harry blinked, his anger vanishing in a moment. The heavy feeling in the air dissipated and the glow receded from his gaze. "I do not know what angered you so, Mister Potter, but such displays are frowned upon inside these walls."
Harry cringed for a moment. Damnit, he'd been doing so well. He stood and bowed low. "I apologize for my behavior, Master Goblin," he said formally. "I was… upset by the information I just heard, but I have no excuse for my outburst."
"Sit, young man. Please." Harry sat. Sharpshard eyed him for a moment, Griphook still standing at his elbow, but staring at Harry with a far more shocked expression on his face. "I will forgive your outburst here, Mister Potter. Obviously something in all this has upset you greatly. I cannot claim to understand your feelings, but suffice it to say that I will not hold them against you."
Harry let out a relieved sigh, suddenly feeling quite drained. He was betrothed? Dumbledore and the Dursleys? He was being hit with a lot of shocking information that day and wasn't sure how much more he could take.
"Mister Sharpshard. If I accept my status as Head of House, would anyone be informed of that information?"
"Not from us. Usually when these things happen the wizards themselves make an announcement so that they can inform others in their same social standing of what is happening. It is a matter of public record, however. So if anyone decides to go looking there is no way to prevent them from discovering that you have been emancipated and taken up your position as Head of House."
"So if I accepted, then I would be able to find my own place to live this summer. I could go somewhere else, and no one could stop me?"
Sharpshard, regretfully, shook his head. "Not entirely. Emancipated or not, as you are still a minor you still need a legal guardian. The emancipation simply allows you some leeway to choose who that person is and you would no longer have a magical guardian to interfere. It is a tangled mess of obscure laws and rules, but for the most part, you would be free to do as you pleased, yes."
"And I would have no immediate obligations that might tip others off?"
"Nothing that you couldn't hide. You would begin receiving monthly statements from us in regards to your family accounts and would be able to start making decisions as far as investments and other such things. You would also be able to access those properties owned by the Potters that would normally wait until after your majority."
Harry considered all that rather quickly. "I would like to accept my status as Head of House then. As long as I can keep others from learning about it, I think it would be useful to take some charge of my own life."
Sharpshard grunted and nodded. "As far as your life is concerned right now, there would be very little change in your day to day. None at all save for the statements you will receive from us. No one will learn of your status from our end." He gestured to Griphook who came forward with a small wooden box in one hand. He set it on the desk and opened it revealing a heavy gold ring lying on a bed of velvet.
"Simply place the ring on the third finger of your right hand and state, 'I, Harry James Potter, accept my status as Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter'."
Harry did so, admiring the ring for a moment before slipping it on his finger. After he spoke there was a brief flash of light and the ring sized itself to fit his finger. "The ring will remain invisible save to those you wish to know about it. But not intangible. If anyone takes hold of your hand they may feel the ring even if they can't see it."
Harry nodded and immediately thought that he wanted no one to know about it, yet.
"Now, I believe our business here is concluded?"
Harry nodded again, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. He rose from his seat, accounts portfolio tucked under one arm, and started for the door but paused, one hand on the handle.
"Mister Sharpshard?" he asked, suddenly sounding more like an eleven-year-old boy, and less the informed wizard that he'd presented thus far.
"Lord Potter?"
"What am I supposed to tell the girls about this? I don't think they know that we're- I mean…" he trailed off, nervous and unsure how to continue.
"I think that is a decision you will have to make for yourself, Lord Potter." Sharpshard's tone wasn't unkind. But it was firm. There would be no advice from him. "Perhaps there is an adult wizard or witch you might ask for more advice on the matter. As far as wizarding matters of the heart are concerned, I am afraid I am unable to offer anything more helpful."
Harry nodded and thanked the goblins before leaving the room.
"He's an interesting child, isn't he?" Griphook said and Sharpshard nodded, still staring at the closed door.
"He doesn't treat us like other wizards do. I can't tell if that's just because he didn't grow up in their world or if there is something more to it. But for now, let's keep an eye on him. And pull everything we have in the archives on Soul Bonds. If he ever decides to ask us about them I want to have everything we can give available and ready at hand."
Griphook nodded and left the office, leaving Sharpshard alone with his thoughts.
