Authors Note: Rotten Writer here again ladies and gent's. Right now as I type this it is May 24th of 2018 in jolly old, I mean sunny California. I wanted to get this chapter up yesterday, but I wasn't able to finish it in time. Why yesterday, you ask? At least, I hope someone wondered. Well, yesterday, May 23rd, marks the one year anniversary of when the first chapter of this little fic was published. A little fic that has grown into something enormous.

I was struck the other day realizing it's already been an entire YEAR since I started this thing and I couldn't believe it. How did a whole year pass me by so quickly? *shakes head* So anyway, here's a little anniversary gift to everyone, a day late. We finally get to see Harry's big plan for dealing with Lord Greengrass and a hint of dark things to come.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The only thing that belongs to me would be the original aspects of this plot and story and.

Here comes Chapter 37 of Soul Scars!

Soul Scars Part Three

The Greengrass Problem

by,

Rtnwriter

When she left her friends and her bond mates at the platform, Daphne had presented a strong front, one she'd kept up since even before they'd boarded the train at Hogsmeade Station. She smiled softly, making sure not to smile too wide or laugh too much or too loudly. Any deviation from her usual mannerisms would have immediately told them that she was a bundle of strained nerves. She had only felt worse as the day wore on and they got closer and closer to London, born by a powerful, enchanted steam engine.

As it was, she had barely been able to hug them as they parte for their separate homes without breaking down into tears but, somehow, she managed. She had wondered, though, when Harry looked into her eyes and told her that he would see her soon. What did that mean? He knew that, when the contract was signed, she wouldn't be able to spend any time with them anymore.

Or… was Harry actually going to make a counteroffer for her hand? That was the only way that she would be free of the Malfoys. The only option to avoid a life as a plaything to the disgusting excuse of a wizard that was Draco Malfoy. She suppressed a shudder as, involuntarily, some of what Draco had threatened would happen to her rose to the forefront of her mind.

She rolled over in her bed and forced the memories aside the best she could. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Tomorrow her life would be changed, completely. She wasn't positive how it would change, but she hoped, prayed, that her bond mates would come through for her.

A weight settled on the edge of her bed and she opened her eyes to find her mother looking at her, a heavy concern in the older witch's eyes and expression. Daphne tried to be calm. She tried to project confidence, as she'd been taught. She didn't want her mother to see how scared and worried she was. She failed completely.

Without a word spoken between them, Danyella Greengrass laid down beside her eldest daughter and wrapped one arm around the girl, holding her tightly as she trembled in the face of an uncertain future.

#####

Cinnamon colored eyes narrowed, staring, almost glaring angrily at a most vexing and implacable foe. The battle had been long, and fierce, a protracted conflict spanning years, in fact. At times, she held the upper hand. Other times, the enemy proved to be too much and she had to call in reinforcements.

She was beginning to believe that such a time had come, once again.

"How goes the war?"

She turned, looking to her mother, who stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the door jamb, her arms folded over her breasts.

"Not well. Enemy forces have almost pushed us into retreat. I'm thinking it just might be time to call in support."

Emma straightened up and stepped into the room, leaning forward to study the battlefield with a critical eye.

"Are we talking the Christmas Conflict of '88? Or is this on par with the Magical Incursion of '91?" Emma asked, drawing a broad grin from her daughter.

"Definitely as bad as '91," she said, laughing lightly.

"Well, call a cease fire, for now, and we'll talk to your father when he gets home from work."

Hermione turned back and glared at her bookcases again for a few moments before deciding that her mother was right. The war for enough shelf space would continue another time. With a sigh, she stacked the dozen or so books that she'd spent the last hour trying to make room for on her shelves off to the side and stood, stretching out some of the kinks earned from sitting on the carpet for so long.

"Did you need me for something, mum?" she asked.

"Well… yes, and no," Emma said in a playful tone of voice that instantly had the fine hairs on the back of Hermione's neck rising even as an alarm started blaring in the back of her mind.

That was the tone of voice that her mother always used just before she started mercilessly teasing someone, usually her chosen victim was Hermione, herself.

"Mum?"

"What?" The tone of voice was all sweetness and innocence as she moved over and sat on Hermione's bed.

"What do you want, mum?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the woman that had given birth to her and helped to raise her.

"Can't a woman just want to talk and catch up with her daughter without any ulterior motives?"

"A woman? Yes. You? No." Hermione's delivery was perfectly dry and deadpan but she rolled her eyes and moved over to sit on the bed as well.

Emma grinned and bounced excitedly in place on the soft mattress. "So, tell me everything that you left out of your letters."

Hermione couldn't but get swept up in Emma's enthusiasm, despite feeling that she was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the two spent the next couple of hours talking as Hermione gave a more detailed account of the events that had so far taken place over the term as well going over their classes and her extra courses that most of her other friends weren't taking.

"I still say you shouldn't have bothered with Divination and Muggle Studies," Emma told her. "They just sound dodgy to me."

Hermione grimaced. "Well…" She trailed off as she tried to come up with some redeeming qualities for either of the classes, but came up blank. "To be honest, those two courses are part of the 'problem' list that Harry took to discuss with Professor Dumbledore the week before we left. We asked around the school, too, and got a hundred different students to fill out a questionnaire about what kind of changes they'd like to see in the school.

"I also drafted a letter for him that he sent to the IBE, requesting a copy of international education standards. He haven't heard back from them yet, but we're still optimistic."

"IBE?"

"The International Board of Education."

"And all this goes back to the promise that Harry made to that hat last year, right?"

Hermione nodded. "He promised to work to fix the things that are wrong with the school. Harry and the Headmaster have had three meetings already this term to discuss what problems the students have, how the school might go about trying to address some of them, and as soon as I have the information from the IBE, I'll be comparing it to the seven year curriculum at Hogwarts. I'm curious to find out if our school really is the 'premier school of magic' that it's said to be."

"Well, it sounds like you guys have quite a project ahead of you." She leaned forward, far more eagerly and grinned at her daughter. "How are things going with Daphne and Susan?"

The alarm was blaring in the back of her mind again and Hermione groaned, flopping down on her back in her bed to stare up at the ceiling. She guessed it was a miracle the woman had lasted as long as she had before starting in with the interrogation. After the package she'd sent at the start of November, Hermione had honestly expected the third degree right after her parents picked her up from the station two days previously.

"What do you mean?" she groaned, hoping to avoid the inevitable embarrassment that appeared to be barreling toward her. "Things are fine. We're worried about this situation with Daphne's father, but Harry has a pretty solid plan, and a backup. I'm as confident as we can be that everything should work out fine." She grabbed one of her pillows and pulled it over her face.

"Move much beyond snogging, yet?"

"Mother!" Hermione yanked the pillow away and stared, aghast at her, completely unrepentant, mother.

"What? I'm not stupid, Hermione. Your father and I had a few facts of this bond explained to us back during your first Christmas break from school, and Amelia was pretty certain that exactly this sort of thing would happen considering the connection with this bond of yours."

"And you really don't have any problem with this?" Hermione hesitantly asked. This was one aspect of the bond she'd never discussed with her parents. The idea of being in a multiple relationship, whether she was with the other girls or not was a topic she'd avoided like the plague since they discovered that it was more than just a two person bond. As open and understanding as her parents could be, she really wasn't sure how they might react to the entire situation. "I've just been trying to wrap my head around the idea of eventually sharing a husband, now this."

"Oh, honey… did you not read the letter I sent you?"

"Of course I read it," Hermione blurted out, a little offended that her mother seemed to think she might not have read a letter from her family.

"But you didn't believe it?" Emma moved forward and Pulled her daughter up and into her arms, despite the girl's protests until she was sitting up against the wall at the head of the bed with her daughter held against her side under one of her arms. "Honey, your father and I love you. This situation… well it's definitely taking some getting used to, and no, I can't say that we're entirely comfortable with all of it. But none of it is your fault or any of the others and we'll figure it out as we go. The multiple relationship is the biggest hurdle, really, but we've had time to get used to that idea. And you know how we feel about same sex couples. Again, as long as everyone is happy, it's none of our business."

"If it's none of your business then why are you asking me?" Hermione muttered and then squeaked when her mother lightly pinched her side.

"You're my daughter, that makes it my business, up to a point."

Hermione sighed and bit her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth for several moments before she let herself settled in more comfortably.

"Nothing has happened, really, since that night when Daphne kissed me," she whispered.

Emma blinked in surprise at that and leaned away, just slightly, so she could look down at her daughter.

"Why not?" she asked, confusion clearly evident in her tone.

"I still don't know what to think about the whole thing," she admitted. "I'm no sure if I'm really attracted to Daphne, or Susan. And if I find that I am, is that really me? What if the bond changed me, somehow, and without it I would never have even entertained the thought of being with another woman." Hermione sat up, her fingers twining together as she found herself with nothing to do with her hands but too full of nervous energy to just sit and do nothing at all.

"I think, first, you need to decide if you're actually attracted to them at all," Emma told her, calmly. "Maybe you don't find other women, in general, attractive, but what about Daphne and Susan, specifically?"

Hermione considered that, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. It wasn't as if this was a new question, really. She'd asked it of herself dozens of times already, but was no closer to a real answer than she was the day after Daphne kissed her.

"I don't know," she finally said in a plaintive tone of voice. "I just… sometimes I think, maybe? And then I can't decide if that's really me or not and I'm right back where I started. I don't want to drag this out longer and longer and leave Daphne and Susan wondering but I don't want to just decide, one way or the other, without knowing for sure, either."

Emma considered her distraught and confused daughter for several moments before she spoke.

"Do me a favor," she said. "Close your eyes."

Hermione gave her mother a questioning look but knew the woman well and sighed, doing as she was told without complaint or argument.

"Now, just bear with me. Think about Daphne. Think about the night she kissed you. Not the kiss itself, yet, just everything else. What was going on?"

"We were arguing. Susan wanted us to be more open with each other but Daphne was upset because we were hiding something from her."

"How did you feel?"

Hermione's brow furrowed as she thought, still keeping her eyes closed and Emma moved closer, sitting so that their knees were touching, both of them with their legs crossed beneath them.

"Angry, and hurt, and worried about her. Daphne was so scared, she was frantic about something, we didn't know what at the time. The betrothal issue was also bothering us and Malfoy had apparently been telling her some of the clauses in the contract his dad intends to sign tomorrow. It wasn't anything good so she was a mess even before we started arguing, really."

Emma arched a brow but made a mental note to revisit the idea of contracts, later, and moved on. "So if she was upset with you, if she was scared and angry anyway, why did she kiss you? What made her decide that was the time?"

"She said she thought it might be her only chance. She was worried that we'd hate her or be disgusted to find she was attracted to women. If the contract is signed, Malfoy could make her stay away from us completely after that, so she decided to take the chance to get something that she wanted before her wants might not matter anymore."

"So she kisses you. Think about that now. How did it feel? How did it make you feel? Not just the physical but emotionally too."

"It… she…" Hermione trailed off, her eyes coming open, but her focus was miles away. "Soft," she muttered, distractedly. "Her lips were so soft, and her hands on my face and neck. At first I was surprised, the whole thing was unexpected and I just froze. I didn't want to push her away, I knew that would hurt her and I'd just decided t-to kiss her back when she pulled away and ran off in a panic."

"Why kiss her back?" Emma asked, carefully taking her daughters hands in her own.

"I didn't want to hurt her. Daphne has had such a hard life, if I did nothing, or rejected her, she would have been terribly hurt."

"You love her, and you want to make her happy."

"Yes… wait, no!" Hermione blinked rapidly and her eyes came into focus on Emma's face. She attempted to snatch her hands away, but her mother held on tightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let the girl know she wasn't letting go without a fight.

"Stop, and listen, hon," she murmured, softly. "Don't react, listen."

Hermione glared at her mother but stilled, no longer trying to pull her hands away and Emma's grip loosened slightly.

"You love her, I can see it. You worry about her happiness. You worry about hurting her. You worry about Harry and you worry about Susan. You love them. You can't possibly try to deny that. Maybe not to the level people think of when they consider being in a romantic love, but you still love them, and that's only going to grow stronger. You four are so close there's no escaping that, even if you wanted to," she added the last after Hermione looked offended at the idea of 'escaping' her bond mates.

"When did you learn so much about magic and bonds?" Hermione asked, a little surly.

"It's got nothing to do with magic or bonds, hon. It's basic psychology. You're so close. Forming attachments is inevitable with that kind of closeness, and the fact that you're technically inside each others heads only compounds the issue. You can feel each others emotions. You're more attuned to each other than it's possible for anyone else to be"

Hermione chewed on her lip again, turning that thought over and over in her mind.

"While you're thinking about that… what happened to the box I sent you?"

Hermione glared at her mother, her face instantly flushing a deep red.

"Oh, that!" she almost snapped. "Whatever possessed you to send me a box like that?"

Emma did her best not to giggle but there was no way in hell she was going to be able to suppress the smirk that twisted her lips. "What?" she said as innocently as she could. "You were wondering so I thought it might be beneficial to to some reading and just… see what you thought."

Hermione groaned and buried her face in her hands as Emma let go and started chuckling quietly at her daughters reaction.

In a fit of irritation, Hermione grabbed one of the pillows off of her bed and started swinging wildly for a few moments as laughter rang through the house. When the impromptu pummeling was over, the two of them were lying sprawled across the bed, both pillows had ended up on the floor and somehow most of the comforter had followed, leaving them panting and sweaty on the top sheet.

Finally, Emma turned to her daughter. "All joking aside, hon, really, is it so important if you would have been attracted to them without the bond that you all share? If you're all happy with each other, does it really matter, as long as you weren't forced?"

"But if we were changed to accept this?"

"If the three of you each had a piece of Harry's soul back in '81… wouldn't that mean your souls were just as compatible with each other, but you just didn't have a chance to bond with the other girls until you touched at the sorting? Everything you've mentioned about soul mates and bonds is that the souls and magic of the people involved were compatible and in tune in the first place, before they bonded."

Silence fell and Hermione stared, blankly, at her mother for several minutes as she attempted to come to grips with that new angle of considering their situation.

"And hon?" Emma asked, softly, drawing Hermione's attention back to her. "Aside from everything else, aside from all the worries and concerns and issues that you're mind can conjure up and all the arguments for or against, I think most importantly you need to ask yourself one question that you seem to have avoided."

"What?" she asked, curiously.

"You said what you felt when Daphne kissed you. But I don't think you've asked yourself, really, did you like it?"

There was no reaction at first, as Hermione let her eyes slip closed, thinking back to that night. Slowly, a light pink dusted her cheeks, and her lips turned up into a soft smile.

#####

"Pacing like a caged animal isn't going to make things any better, you know?" Susan spoke, her deep blue gaze following the nervously pacing figure of her favorite bushy haired bookworm as Hermione moved back and forth before the fire in the Parlor at the Boneyard. Neville, Luna, Tracey, Hannah, and Blaise simply observed the interaction, wondering at what point the bushy haired witch was likely to spontaneously combust with nervous energy.

It was early in the afternoon of December 24th, and Harry and Amelia had left hours earlier to the meeting Harry'd arranged with Lord Greengrass. They had had nothing to do but wait since then for any word over how the meeting went and Hermione's patience was rapidly running out even as Susan sat lightly in her seat, her hands lightly holding a book in her lap and a steaming cup of tea resting on the small end table next to her end of the sofa. Reaching over she patted the cushion next to her and gestured for Hermione to join her.

"Come sit down and try, try to relax, at least a little. You're working yourself into a tizzy."

"I'm just worried," Hermione moaned, dropping gracelessly into the spot next to Susan and, without thinking, she leaned over, resting her head on her bond mate's shoulder. "I hate not knowing what's going on," she muttered, morosely.

"I know, love," Susan responded, lifting one hand to stroke Hermione's cheek. "I know. I hate it too. You just need to try to distract yourself with something."

"I can't concentrate," Hermione admitted in a small voice, showing just how concerned she was. "I've tried reading, or working ahead for class, even trying to add to our list of spells for our independent practice and nothing holds my attention for more than a few moments."

"Look, they left at half past eleven, right?" Susan tried and Hermione nodded against her shoulder. "It's just barely past two o'clock, now, so they've been gone for a little over two and a half hours. That's not too long, really, when dealing with something as potentially convoluted, and you know if the Malfoy's are present Harry's going to want to address Draco's attack during that Care of magical Creatures class with Malfoy Senior, since the man still hasn't seen fit to actually respond to Harry's letter regarding it."

"So we should just be patient, they'll be done soon?"

"And everything will work out, I'm sure of it." Susan turned and pressed a kiss to the crown of Hermione's head, smiling when she felt the other girl let out an almost unnoticeable sigh and lean a little more against her.

"It's a solid plan, Hermione," Blaise attempted to reassure her with Neville and Tracey nodding along. "Even if the initial plan doesn't work, the contract offer Harry had drawn up should be more than enough to convince Lord Greengrass to sign."

Hermione hummed noncommittally at that, but chose not to try to argue.

They talked quietly for a time, Susan's book forgotten on the table by her, now, cold cup of tea. Just before the clock showed three in the afternoon a chime rang through the house as the Floo flared up and both girls sat up, their bodies tensing in anticipation. The rest of their friends, while less tense, were just as alert and aware, looking over when Dan and Emma walked into the room, their attention also fixed on the chime that had echoed throughout the halls.

"That's one," Hermione whispered.

"Probably Harry, since you know Auntie Amelia always wants to be the last one through instead of leaving one of us alone at the Cauldron."

A second chime rang through the manor and they both stood, muscles tensing even further.

"Two," Susan muttered, her eyes narrowed toward the archway that would lead them most directly to the Floo Access Room.

"If there's another one…"

A third chime rang out and both girls took off like a shot, feet pounding against the wooden floor beneath them as they sprinted through the house, Hermione's parents and the rest of their friends following close behind. They arrived, Hermione in the lead, to find a laughing Amelia Bones helping a loudly grumbling Harry Potter off of the ground where he'd been deposited after his trip through the Floo and, standing behind them, a dazed looking Daphne Greengrass, tear tracks staining her cheeks through the fine soot that clung to her from her trip through the Floo.

"DAPHNE!"

That was the only warning anyone got before a bushy haired missile slammed into the slight blond, sending both tumbling to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs as Hermione attempted to squeeze the life out of the girl.

Amelia grinned as she let her wand, which she'd drawn when Hermione's shout startled her, shoot back up her sleeve into her holster and Harry slowly lowered the hand that he'd instinctively raised, once he realized that, though Daphne was being attacked, she wasn't in any actual danger.

For her part, Daphne's daze was broken by the dual impacts of a body against hers, then both of their bodies against the ground and she shook her head, dimly aware of sobbing and barely intelligible babbled words that were being muffled against her shoulder. The cloud of curly brown hair that obscured her vision easily told her the identity of her assailant and she laughed, lightly, wrapping her arms around her bond mate and squeezing back, just as strongly.

"It worked," she muttered into the other girls ear. "Dammit if that ridiculous plan didn't work."

"I was so worried about you," Hermione whispered, turning her head so the blond would be able to hear her.

"As long as I have people like you, Susan, and Harry worrying about me, I don't think there's anything in the world that could really hurt me. Not anymore."

"Mione? You gonna let anyone else hug her?" Susan asked of the heap on the floor, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Hermione let out a quiet squeak and scrambled to untangle herself from Daphne and get up off the floor, her face flushing brilliantly, to which no one commented. Susan helped Daphne to her feet and promptly pulled her into a strong hug, holding the other girl tightly for several long moments.

"I'm so glad it worked," she muttered, happier than she'd felt in some time with this weight lifted from their shoulders. "I had every confidence, but I was still worried something might go wrong."

"From what I can tell, it all went perfectly."

Susan glanced around, seeing most of the group was otherwise occupied and tilted her head, bringing her lips close to Daphne's ear. "I really can't wait to get you alone and give you a proper congratulations," she whispered and felt the slightest tremor run through the other girls body as her warm breath washed across her skin.

"I look forward to it," Daphne whispered back, tightening her grip on Susans body for a moment before they separated.

"So?" Hermione demanded, anxiously shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. "Did it work? Or did you have to go to Plan B?"

"Plan A went off without a hitch," Harry told her, grinning broadly, his eyes glowing bright enough to be easily visible even in the brightly lit room. "Greengrass didn't know what hit him and that slimy little plonker, Malfoy, managed to get himself banned from Gringotts for at least a year in the bargain."

Hermione and Susan both squealed happily and dragged Harry and Daphne into another hug, the four of them tangled so tightly together that the only way the rest of them were able to tell where one teen ended and another began was by way of the four different colors of hair that topped their heads.

It was Dan's deep laughter that caught their attention and broke up the hug. "Well?" he asked. "Let's go sit and you can tell us all about it."

"Let's do this in the kitchen," Amelia decided as she took in the number of people filing out of the room. "Harry, Daphne, and I missed lunch, and I don't know about them, but I'm starved."

That suggestion met with a resounding approval from the large group, punctuated by Harry's stomach growling, loudly, and it was a happy, laughing crowd that entered the kitchen. Binky was absolutely delighted to have so many guests to serve and before they all even entered the room the table had been expanded with enough chairs appearing for everyone to sit comfortably as the little elf kicked into gear with barely a wobble.

Drinks and snacks appeared on the table to tide the group over until the meal was prepared and, once everyone was seated and had a drink or a plate in hand, eleven pairs of eyes turned, expectantly, toward Harry where he was seated across the corner of the table from Amelia.

"Why's everyone always stare at me?" he asked, hoping to put someone else in the spotlight, for a change.

"You've had so much practice telling stories that the rest of us weren't present for or missed out on, somehow, over the last couple of years," Neville pointed out. "Who else would tell it?"

"Plus, it was your plan," Blaise pointed out and Harry glared at him.

"Traitor," he growled, causing the slytherin to simply smile and tilt the neck of his bottle of butterbeer in Harry's direction.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine," he grumbled, and, with the rest of the table encouraging him, he started explaining the events of the day.

#####

"Merlin's bloody beard!" Harry yelped as he came sliding out of the Floo and into the Leaky Cauldron. "I swear, one of these days I am going to figure that out," he grumbled and let Amelia help him to his feet, her wand already moving to banish the soot from his robes.

"Come on," she said, clearly amused by his continuing battled with Floo travel, and she helped him straighten his robes, brushing down the soft material for a moment before she gave him a warm smile and led him over to the entrance into Diagon Alley.

Before she opened it, Amelia shot Harry a quick look. He took a moment, and at least one deep breath before he nodded to her and she tapped the bricks with her wand. The instant the archway appeared, Harry lifted his head, squared his shoulders, and strode confidently past Amy and into the Alley.

As he walked, with Amelia trailing behind him by a pace, a hush swept through the crowd of holiday shoppers. He wasn't an unknown sight around the Alley, having visited numerous times in the past, both to collect school supplies and just to shop. As a well known figure in the wizarding world he was usually very visible, despite his typical attempts to hide or avoid notice. He wasn't hiding, this time. He walked confidently, his eyes fixed straight ahead and gleaming brightly. The sword of Gryffindor, belted over his robes hung from his left hip, his hand resting on the hilt as he walked. The finely cut, and clearly expensive robes with the Potter Crest embroidered over the left breast left no mystery as to just who he was.

He wasn't Harry Potter, ward of Amelia Bones and Third Year Hogwarts Student. He was Lord Harry James Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, and he was on a mission. Conversations died as he passed and every eye followed his progress through the alley and up the steps leading into Gringotts. On his chest, below his Family Crest, two gleaming medals shone in the wan sunlight. The gold medallion that marked him as a Friend to the Goblin Nation, and a second medallion, cast in platinum that had been given to him before they'd returned to school for that year. After his battle with the Basilisk, and his deal with Gringotts regarding the remains, he had been named a Blooded Warrior, and the level of respect he carried amongst the Nation had shot up accordingly.

He was only happy they'd done so without the pomp and ceremony that had accompanied his Order of Merlin award from the Ministry. That had been a bloody nightmare, in his humble opinion.

The guards stationed at the entrance into the bank bowed low as he passed and he simply nodded his head, respectfully, not breaking stride in the slightest as he entered the bank and moved immediately to the nearest free teller.

"Good morning, Teller," he said, bowing to the goblin. "I pray your enemies blood stains your blades."

"And may their gold fill your vault, young Lord," the goblin responded. "How may Gringotts assist you today, Warrior Potter?"

A smattering of murmurs swept through the lobby as he was addressed and Harry sighed, internally, as wizards and witches started muttering to each other, most in plain view, with absolutely no regard for subtlety or tact.

"I have a meeting with Accounts Manager Sharpshard for 11:45," he said and the goblin nodded, gesturing to another who scurried off to carry the message.

"If you'll please wait, Assistant Account Manager Griphook should be here momentarily."

"Thank you."

Harry and Amelia both bowed, an action that was returned by the teller, before they straightened and moved over to the seats by the wall to wait.

"You're doing great, Harry," Amelia muttered in his ear when they sat and he fought the urge to grimace in distaste.

"I hate this," he muttered back. "This… parading around like a bloody ponce. It's all a damn show."

"It is, but it's necessary. The upper levels of society are expected to behave and to carry themselves in a certain way. The Lord of a House like yours, even more so. You're doing very well, and managing without the arrogance and smugness of some other members of our society."

He growled, low in his throat, but before he could respond Griphook walked over, neatly dressed in an impeccably tailored three piece suit and Harry rose to meet him, bowing low and greeting his friend carefully.

"You're looking good, Griphook," Harry commented after they were led into the tunnels behind the counter. "Things must be going well with my accounts."

"Very well, Warrior Potter," Griphook said with a grin. "Your suggestion to look into muggle businesses for investments has resulted in a surprisingly fast return and your accounts are earning gold hand over fist, as they say."

"You're taking your five percent, right?" Harry asked and Griphook shot him a look.

"The standard is three percent for an Assistant Manager and five for a manager, Warrior Potter."

Harry shook his head and sighed. "That won't do at all," he said. "And it's still Harry to you, Griphook."

"Of course it is, Warrior Potter."

Amelia wasn't certain, but she thought that Griphook might have grinned when Harry growled under his breath at the continued form of address.

When they were led into Sharpshard's office, Harry barely waited for the greetings to be over with before he started off with his issue. "Mister Sharpshard, I'm led to understand that you take five percent for managing my accounts and that Griphook here receives three percent. Is this true?"

Sharpshard arched a bushy brow at the slight wizard, confusion etched into the lines and wrinkles of his ancient face. "It is, Warrior Potter. That is standard for all Managers and Assistant Managers."

"Well I don't care for that much. I insist that you take seven percent and that Griphook receives five percent for himself."

Both goblins froze, shocked for a moment before Sharpshard seemed to shake himself out of his stupor and cast an appraising look over Harry.

"May I ask why you would do this?"

"Simple. The more money the two of you stand to earn, the harder you're likely to work at it. And considering how much you both do, since I don't do much of any of it myself, you've more than earned it, in my opinion."

Sharpshard laughed, a deep grating thing, and shook his head before he made a note on a piece of parchment before turning it around and handing it over to Harry.

"If you could sign this, Warrior Potter, and pressed your rings crest to the parchment, I will make sure the adjustments are made."

Quickly, Harry read over the note, something Sharpshard was pleased to see, before he signed it and pressed his ring to the parchment. The whole thing glowed with a soft white light a moment later and when he handed it back to Sharpshard, the goblin tapped it with a claw and it vanished.

"I swear, every time you come in here I find something new to be surprised by. You'd think I'd have learned to expect these kinds of things from you by now, Warrior Potter."

"Okay, seriously, who do I have to kill to get you people to call me Harry?" he asked, sarcastically, a grin twisting his mouth as Amelia hid a smile behind her hand.

"I am not entirely certain, Warrior Potter," Sharpshard said, grinning broadly. "But as soon as I find out, I'll point you in their direction." He laughed again at the scowl Harry directed his way before clapping his hands together, sharply, and sitting up more in his seat behind the desk. With a gesture, Griphook came forward from where he'd been standing at the aged goblins elbow, a large scroll held in his hands, which he passed across the desk to Harry."

"This is the contract you asked us to draw up. Please look it over to ensure it meets your approval."

Silently, Harry did so, his eyes skimming across the parchment quickly, slowing here or there to more carefully read one section or another, and in a few minutes he'd finished and rolled it back up.

"Looks good," he said. "All the escape clauses I wanted are in there and there's no way for anyone to countermand this contract except for me or Daphne, if it's needed?"

"Once it is signed it is ironclad. The penalties for an outside party attempting to interfere with a contract such as this are most severe. No one raised in the wizarding world would dare attempt it."

Harry nodded, looking with distaste at the scroll in his hands and sighed. "Then I think that's everything, unless you had something else you needed to discuss with me?"

"Nothing at present, Warrior Potter," Sharpshard said, grinning again as Harry scowled at him. "Griphook will lead you to your next meeting and… may I wish you a good hunt, young Warrior. I do not know what you plan to do, but if that contract is your backup, I am sure that I would love to hear the tale of your initial plan, another time."

Harry grinned as he and Amelia stood and bowed. "If it works, I'm fairly certain you'll hear all about it before long."

They made their goodbyes and Griphook led them through a confusing series of tunnels before stopping before a door nearly identical to the one leading into Sharpshard's office. He stopped and turned, looking up at Harry intently. A moment later he held out his hand which Harry quickly accepted.

"Warrior Potter, we goblins do not speak of such things often with outsiders, but from the day you and I first met, I could see that you were different from the rest of your people. Branch Manager Ragnok has acknowledged that you are a very different sort of wizard and I, for one, am pleased he named you Friend and blooded warrior. Goblins find these contracts as distasteful as you do and especially one with the sort of clauses I have heard are likely present in this particular one. I sincerely wish you success in this. When you go in there, remember that you are Lord Potter. You are Friend to the Nation and you are a Blooded Warrior. You have faced and defeated enemies far greater than Lord Greengrass. He is nothing before you. Strike him down decisively and without bravado or posturing, as befits a man of your stature."

He shook Harry's hand, gravely, and nodded sharply before he turned and walked away, leaving Harry and Amelia standing outside the door with dumbfounded expressions on both their faces.

Amelia was the first to recover and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"He's right, you know? You have already faced far greater foes than Greengrass. Don't, for a moment, let him try to intimidate you. I know you hate all the posturing and crap, but you are Lord Potter. You are also the Boy-Who-Lived, the Basilisk-Slayer. You've faced Voldemort twice since you started school, and come out on top. You have a higher standing than Greengrass and Malfoy. Remember that."

"Thanks, Amy," he muttered, giving her a small smile and pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around her for a brief moment before he pulled away and faced the door. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the latch and strode into the room with Amelia following behind, closing the door behind her.

The room wasn't an office. It appeared to be a conference room. Large, and mostly empty save for a single table, easily capable of seating twenty in the center. Torches along the walls cast plenty of light and Harry's eye was immediately drawn to the four figures sitting near the far end of the table. On one side, Cyril Greengrass sat, with Daphne sitting beside him, wearing a new set of dress robes, cut to show off her developing figure and Harry's hands clenched into fists at his sides as he realized exactly what he was seeing. She was being put on display, letting the prospective buyer see what he would be getting for his galleons. Obviously, a glamour had been used to hide the scars across her upper chest and her arms.

He forced himself to stay calm, relaxing his hands as they walked along the length of the table and his eyes turned to the two blonds sitting across from Daphne and her father. Lucius Malfoy looked as immaculately dressed as ever, his long hair hanging down just past his shoulders, a disdainful expression on his face as he noticed Harry and Amelia approaching and he leaned over, muttering something into his son's ear where he sat on his fathers left. Draco turned, his eyes narrowing as he took in Harry's robes.

"Potter," he snapped, sneering at them. "What do you think you're doing here? This is private business and you need to leave, before I have the goblins throw you out on your ear."

Harry didn't respond, keeping a tight lid on his anger through the use of a few Occlumency exercises that Daphne had taught him. As Harry rounded the end of the table, walking past the Malfoys to sit at the single empty seat at the head of the table, Draco was blustering and nearly bellowing at him, his pale face rapidly reddening in his anger.

"Mister Malfoy," Harry said, after he sat, Amelia standing behind him and to his right. "Are you in the habit of letting your heir address the Lord of a Most Ancient and Noble House in such a manner? If so, I'm pleased that I haven't attended any of the social events of high society, yet. I'm certain his blustering and carrying on would have quite spoiled any possible enjoyment."

"Calm yourself, Draco," Lucius said in the smooth tones Harry remembered from the few interactions he'd had with the man the previous year. Again, Harry was reminded of the thought he'd had in Flourish and Blotts the summer before. Lucius Malfoy was a far more dangerous individual than his son could ever hope to be. Draco was little more than a spoiled brat, counting on his daddy's money and influence to carry him along without putting much effort of his own in.

"Lord Potter is here as an interested party," Greengrass said and Harry turned his attention back to his primary purpose for being there. That being, saving Daphne, and pulling Greengrass' fangs. If there was anyone in the world Harry felt he could honestly hate, it was the man sitting across the corner of the table to his right.

Brilliantly glowing green eyes regarded him for just a moment before they flickered toward Daphne. When he and Amelia had first stepped into the room, he'd seen the surprise she hadn't been able to hide at the sight of him, but she'd since schooled her expression into the blank, emotionless mask she'd worn when they first met. That mask had slipped, significantly, over the time they'd known each other and when she was around him and their friends, she was nearly unrecognizable as the Ice Queen that she still showed to others.

He felt an honest pang in his chest, a painful twisting sensation and wanted nothing more than to strip that mask away, to see the clever, confident, talented witch that she was beneath it. He's not going to get away with this, Daphne, he vowed, silently, and turned his attention back to Lord Greengrass as the man gestured to Amelia standing behind Harry who held the scroll Sharpshard had given to them.

"I take it that is the counteroffer you have brought against the offer from House Malfoy?"

Harry hummed quietly in the back of his throat, sitting ramrod straight in his seat, both hands on the table in front of him.

"It is… an offer. But before that I have a different offer for you."

Greengrass arched one aristocratic brow at Harry, his face otherwise as immutable as a statues and simply gestured for Harry to continue.

"I have no doubt that, that," he flicked a finger in the direction of the scroll sitting on the table in front of Lucius Malfoy, "is a disgusting thing, basically selling your daughter into slavery, making her little more than a toy to be used and played with at the whims of a pompous braggart with more hot air than skill or brains in his head. The very sight of it makes me want to vomit, to be perfectly honest." He turned his gaze away from the scroll, fixing the Lord Greengrass in his seat with his stare. "I want to offer you a chance to do the right thing. Walk away from this table, right now, and realize that your daughters should be something precious that you as a father should cherish, and not see them as merely bargaining chips for you to use in your own pursuit of power and wealth. Do that, and you and I will have absolutely no problems with each other going forward."

Susan and Hermione had spent several hours with him helping to work out the exact wording of that particular speech. He wanted to give Greengrass the chance, one chance to prove that he wasn't a completely irredeemable sack of krup shit. He didn't think the man Daphne had spoken of would actually be capable of doing that, but he felt that he had to at least try, before he destroyed him.

A second eyebrow followed the first that had risen earlier yet gave no other sign of surprise.

"That's it?" he asked in a sarcastic drawl. "You attempt to appeal to my better nature as a father? You do not know your place, boy," he hissed and Daphne hid a wince as another sharp needle of fury shot through her mind directly from Harry, just as it had that first Christmas at the Boneyard. "The law is clear. The Head of House owns the wife and children. My word is law within my family and my wishes are to be obeyed. You forget your place, if you think that you can dictate to me how I should treat my property."

Behind Harry, Amelia closed her eyes. That's it, she thought. Harry isn't going to go easy on him now.

"I was afraid you would say something like that," Harry said, sighing in disappointment. "I hoped that you were a better man than that, Lord Greengrass. I really did. But I can see that I was hoping for a fantasy world that could never exist. Since you refuse to be a decent human being, I'll let you get a look at what you missed out on."

At a gesture from Harry, Amelia stepped closer and held the scroll out, presenting it to Greengrass, who took it and unrolled it. As his eyes moved over the parchment, Harry glanced at the Malfoys, noting how Lucius had been keeping up a near constant stream of whispered words into Draco's ear, keeping the Slytherin from speaking out again even though he was glaring murderously at Harry. Mentally, Harry snorted. Draco didn't hold a candle to some of the glares he'd been subjected to over the years. In fact, he thought it kind of made the blond look constipated, rather than dangerous.

When he looked back at Greengrass, he was amused to see that even that mans iron grip on his emotions hadn't been enough to keep the shock off his face. Harry assumed, rightly, that the Head of House Greengrass had just reached the Bride Price in the contract and the open greed on his face just disgusted the young Lord even more.

"This is a most generous offer," Greengrass started but suddenly cut off when Harry reached out and plucked the scroll from his hands, rolling it carefully back up before he handed it back to Amelia.

"It's too bad you aren't a better person, Lord Greengrass," he stated, calmly. "If you were, you might have seen such a contract at some time in the future. Who knows? No one will know, now, what might have been if you weren't such a greedy, disgusting, scum sucking piece of filth in a human guise." As he'd spoken, Harry's voice had dropped to a seething hiss, his face hardening as he finally let the rage and disgust he felt show in his expression. His eyes gleamed like an emerald inferno and the angry retort died on Cyril Greengrass' lips as he leaned back in his seat, his face going pale at the fury directed towards him.

Plan A it is, Harry thought, and dismissed Daphne's father with a glance, turning his attention to the girl. She appeared as placid as ever, but Harry knew her well enough and could just feel her through their bond to know she was confused, worried, and anxious, so he offered her a small smile before he sat forward in his seat and spoke in as calm and formal a tone as he could.

"Daphne Annabelle Greengrass, do you acknowledge that you owe me, Lord Harry James Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, a life debt for my saving you from a mountain troll on the night of October 31st, 1991?" he asked and he saw a spark of understanding flare in her icy blue eyes as she sat up even straighter in her own seat and nodded.

"I do so acknowledge, Milord," she said and a flash of white light appeared around the both of them, signifying the acknowledgement of the debt as Greengrass paled even further and mentally started swearing up a storm. When Harry spoke next, the man's jaw dropped open.

"Daphne Annabelle Greengrass, do you acknowledge that you owe me, Lord Harry James Potter, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, a life debt for my saving you from Slytherin's Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets on the night of April 13th, 1993?"

"I do so acknowledge, Milord," she said in a strong, clear voice, and there was a second flash of white light that surrounded the both of them.

He gave her another smile before he turned back to Daphne's father, glaring furiously at the man.

"Here's what is going to happen," he said. "You, are going to step down as Head of House Greengrass and hand over the Headship to your eldest daughter, Daphne, effective immediately. Then, you are going to divorce your wife and leave the Greengrass ancestral home. I don't care where you go, but go, you will. You will keep your ownership of Greengrass Import/Exports and no member of your former family will have any claim upon the business, that is for you to keep and manage as you will and since the business account is separate from the family account you will not be lacking for funds. The only things you may take with you are your personal effects, clothes, and any items that you owned before your marriage to Danyella Greengrass. The goblins will make sure to separate out those items from your former family vault and place them into storage for you, for a price.

"In the future you will make no attempt to contact either of your daughters or your wife. You will leave them alone, and take a magical oath, swearing to do nothing in the future that might cause them harm."

"And what makes you think I would do something like that?" He sneered, recovering from his shock. "I am the Lord Greengrass, and Daphne cannot become the Lady Greengrass until after my death."

"She can if you choose to hand over the ring," Harry said, nodding to the platinum ring with a large topaz set in its center that rode on Greengrass right hand. "And you'll do it because, if you don't, then the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass will die with you."

Every pureblood in the room jerked in surprise at that, except for Amelia who was expecting it.

"Are you threatening the life of a Lord?" Lucius asked, his eyes narrowed dangerously, causing Harry to turn briefly toward him in order to answer the question.

"Not at all, simply stating a fact." Harry turned away from the Malfoy's and back to Lord Greengrass. "If you choose not to accept my offer, as stated, your family line will end. You have two daughters, Lord Greengrass. I will use the two life debts, owed to me by your eldest, to claim both of them for my House. They will cease to be members of the Greengrass family and will become part of House Potter. I am aware that you are no longer capable of fathering another child, so, if you lose your daughters to me, then, when you die, hopefully alone and in misery, decades from now, the line of Greengrass will end forever.

"Those are your choices. A successful business to run for yourself, or the end of your bloodline. Choose."

#####

Hannah, Tracey, Blaise, and Neville were staring at Harry in shocked horror.

"Holy shit, Potter!" Blaise blurted out, ignoring the various girls that tried to admonish him for his language. "You seriously hit where it hurts."

"Wait, I don't get it," Dan interrupted. "What did Harry do that was so bad? And didn't you two help him with this plan?" he added, indicating Blaise and Neville.

"We helped, but only working out the life debts and that he could potentially force Greengrass to fold by holding them over his head and accept declaring Daphne as the new Lady Greengrass," Blaise explained. "He never actually told us what the threat was going to be."

"Because I knew that you two would have been upset by it and I didn't want to worry you," Harry cut in. "You know that's not something I would ever orchestrate without a really good reason, right?"

Blaise shook his head. "No, I get it, Harry. Don't worry, but, remind me to never get you pissed at me!"

Beside him Neville was a little bug eyed and nodding his head rapidly in agreement.

"We still don't understand," Emma pointed out and Amelia leaned forward, pushing her empty plate aside to lean her elbows on the table.

"Dan, Emma, to old line purebloods, like Cyril, there are only a few things that are truly important. Wealth and power are pretty high on that list. Political power, magical power, influence, etc. The only thing more important than that is the continuation of the bloodlines."

They still looked confused so she went on.

"The Wizengamot, our court, was founded by twenty-eight families, centuries ago, not too long after the founding of Hogwarts. These families, known as the Sacred Twenty-eight, have been leaders of the wizarding world ever since. Powerful, influential bloodlines that extend back millenia. House Potter was one of those families, that's part of why Harry's family is so well regarded. Even if they were dirt poor and held no political influence, the family name would still hold a lot of weight, simply for the role they played in the foundations of our entire society.

"Greengrass is another one of those families, as well as Bones and Longbottom. Today there are only twelve of the original twenty-eight families still alive. The others have died out. Cyril Greengrass came down sick about eleven years ago with a severe case of wizarding flu, one of the worst in recent history. Though he recovered, the end result left him sterile. He is incapable of fathering another child, so if Harry used the life debts to claim the lives that he saved as his own, then Daphne and her sister would no longer be part of the Greengrass family. They would become Potters, legally and magically, and the Greengrass line, one of the founding families of the British Wizarding World would end when he eventually dies.

"Any political power or influence he has would be gone, instantly. The public would have crucified him for his actions leading to the end of such a prominent family name. His business would also probably have failed within the year, at least from the wizarding side of things. Cyril's entire network of contacts and business associates would have shunned him and I expect that within a few years he would have been penniless and destitute. Really, stepping down as Head of House and saving as much face as he could was the only option available to him. He really had no choice whatsoever."

The Granger parents blinked and looked to the thirteen year old boy at the end of the table next to Amelia where he sat, happily working his way through a large piece of treacle tart, as if he hadn't a care in the world. The image was so at odds with the idea of a powerful Lord, willing to ruthlessly, if bloodlessly, crush out an entire family line, that they simply could not reconcile the two opposing images in their heads.

After a few minutes of silence passed as a majority of the table observed a happily oblivious Lord Potter enjoying his desert, Neville finally cleared his throat, catching Harry's attention.

"So… er… y-you didn't exactly finish telling the story, Harry," he pointed out.

Harry blink several times in confusion before he jumped in his seat, startled, slightly, as his mind returned to task.

"Oh!" he blurted out. "Sorry about that. Ummm… where was I?"

"You had just laid down the ultimate gauntlet and made the Lord Greengrass wet his robes with a threat that would haunt the nightmares of purebloods everywhere for decades to come," Blaise informed him in his best sarcastic drawl, which had the males chuckling and the ladies at the table glaring at him for his crass language.

"Luna?" Hermione asked in a pleasantly sweet tone of voice.

Without looking up from the bowl of pudding that Luna had been industriously working her way through, the tiny blond reached out and smacked Blaise across the back of his head.

"Thank you, Luna, dear," Hermione said, ignoring Blaise mock outrage over his treatment.

Once Harry got his own amusement in hand he took a sip of his butterbeer, set the bottle back on the table, and leaned back in his seat.

"Well, Greengrass asked for a minute to 'deliberate' and stepped out of the room. At this point Malfoy proved, again, just how much empty space there is between his ears instead of actual brain matter. He started spouting off his usual garbage, insulting me, my parents, and, eventually, he called Daphne something that I absolutely will not repeat," he said, his expression so furious by the end that Blaise, Tracey, and Hannah all actually leaned away from the table and as much out of his line of sight as they could get.

"He said that I was nothing but a whore, and my only real purpose in life was to be either on my back, or on my knees, so I might service a proper pureblood wizard," Daphne stated in an even, measured tone of voice.

Harry's bottle of butterbeer suddenly shattered, and everyone jumped except for Daphne and Amelia. Harry closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as the broken glass and spilled liquid vanished and a fresh bottle appeared in its place with a soft pop.

"Thank you, Binky," he called to the empty air after he opened his eyes again and then quickly downed half the bottle in a single go before setting it back down, a little further away from him than the previous one had been.

"Back on point. That pissed me off, but before I could actually turn the little toe rag inside out, three armed goblins showed up, each holding a sword to his throat," His grin was positively feral and was echoed by Blaise and Dan, of all people. "Apparently, it is against goblin law to cast such aspersions upon the character of a Friend of the Nation while in goblin controlled territory, so, Draco got himself slapped with a hefty fine and was banned from entering the bank for at least a year."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke," Neville muttered, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I couldn't agree more. Before the Malfoys were escorted out, I got Lucy to swear that his son would leave me and all of my friends alone for the remainder of the school year as repayment for his debt from that day he attacked me in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Why didn't you demand he just leave you all along forever?" Emma asked, curiously.

"Draco might have attacked Harry," Susan explained, deciding that it was her turn to add some to the conversation, "but he wasn't actually injured. The rest of the school year is really the best we could have hoped for under the circumstances."

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

Tracey was practically bouncing in her seat beside Hannah, who was watching the half blood witch with open amusement.

"So that explains what happened to Malformed the Git," she said. "What happened with Lord Greengrass? Did he accept your first offer?"

Harry grinned and stood, gesturing to Daphne with one hand. "Ladies, gentlemen, and Blaise, (Oi!) may I be the first to introduce the Lady Daphne Annabelle Greengrass, Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass."

Cheers erupted around the table, everyone offering their congratulations, which Daphne accepted with all the grace and dignity of a Lady and Head of House. Once everyone had calmed, something that took several minutes and more than a few long hugs for Daphne, Harry finished off his story.

"Cyril Greengrass agreed to step down and that he would divorce Danyella, something that she told me in more than a few of the letters that we exchanged this year she really wanted. She was more than willing to return to her maiden name and lose her access to the Greengrass fortune if it meant getting away from that monster of a human being. He also swore an Oath on his magic to leave the girls alone and never do anything that would see them come to harm."

"What happens if he breaks that oath?" Dan asked.

"He'll lose his magic and be no better than a squib."

Murmurs swept around the table, those with magic reacting viscerally to the idea of losing that which made them what they were.

"So, are those letters you wrote to Miss Greengrass how you knew that Cyril was sterile? I'm fairly sure you couldn't have gotten that information from the hospital? Confidentiality and all that."

Harry nodded to Dan. "Yup," he said, popping the 'p' loudly. "When we left, Greengrass was sitting with the goblins, filling out the paperwork to dissolve his marriage to…" he trailed off and glanced at Daphne. "She'd be Miss Temple, again, by now, wouldn't she?" he asked, and she nodded. "Okay, so yeah, he was dissolving his marriage to Miss Temple, something Daphne could have done once she had the Head of House Ring on her finger, but I felt it was a little more personal to make him do it himself. Before midnight he'll be locked out of the Greengrass Ancestral Home's wards and his personal effects will have been moved somewhere else."

Neville sat back in his seat, lifting his own butterbeer in one shaking hand to take a long drink.

"Damn, Harry," he said, breathing out a long sigh. "It was a solid plan, but really, you have no idea how nervous I was that he wouldn't bite."

"Okay, you've said that several times, that this plan of yours might not have worked," Dan pointed out. "From what it sounds like he really didn't have any options."

Harry grinned broadly at them.

"Yeah. But, really, if Greengrass saw through the bluff it would never have worked."

Dead silence met that particular statement and Harry just grinned again, supremely pleased with himself for the plan he'd initially come up with, helped along by Neville, Hermione, Susan, and Blaise.

Dan and Emma looked confused. Amelia understood since the plan had been explained to her, but it still boggled her mind slightly that a thirteen-year-old had come up with something so devious. Hannah and Tracey looked completely dumbstruck while Luna was… well… Luna. She smiled over at Harry and turned her attention back to her pudding. She understood the discussion was important and was paying attention, but… pudding.

"A bluff?" Dan asked, slowly, and Harry and Blaise nodded.

"How was it a bluff?" Emma asked. "From everything you've said these life debts sound really serious. Didn't he have no choice but to accept that magic acknowledged the debts?"

"Wizard's First Rule."

Dan and Emma frowned, confused, for a moment, before Dan brightened, sitting up straighter in his seat for a moment.

"Hang on, I know that. Isn't that a novel?"

"Got it in one, Dan. Wizard's First Rule, from the Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind states, and the exact wording escapes me so bear with, but it goes something like: People will believe any lie either because they think it is true, or they are afraid it is true. Basically, people are stupid."

"What does this have to do with the life debts being a bluff?"

"Blaise, you wanna take this one?"

"With pleasure, Lord Potter," Blaise smirked, then calmly ducked a roll that Harry threw at him. "The reason the whole idea of the life debts being used to end the Greengrass line was a bluff is because there are no life debts."

Dan, Emma, Tracey, and Hannah blinked.

"Huh?"

"It's rather simple, really, and it all hinged on one very important piece of information. Greengrass is a skeptical man. From what Daphne has told us in the last couple of years, he doesn't really believe in the whole Soul Bond these four share," he explained, gesturing to the quartet. "He sees the entire concept as myth and fantasy. He acknowledged there is a connection, or some sort, but refuses to consider what that really means.

"To create a life debt, in this case between Harry and Daphne, Harry would have to have saved Daphne's life from truly mortal peril that he had no hand in creating, his life had to be in true peril as well, and he had to do so with absolutely no selfish reasons. Basically, saving her life had to be a completely altruistic prospect on his part."

"And wasn't it? He didn't save Daphne because he wanted a reward or anything."

"True, he didn't. In Harry's mind he was really acting for no reason other than he wanted to save her. He didn't want any reward or anything from her. But, because they're bonded, it is literally impossible for them to owe each other any form of life debt. When Harry saved Daphne, she was, and still is, carrying a part of his soul. In a sense, he was saving himself at the same time. So, even though his reasons were altruistic, magic recognizes that, technically, he was still acting in his own self interests by protecting her."

"So what about the flash of light you said meant the debts were recognized?" Hannah asked. "That wouldn't have been possible if there weren't any debts."

Harry grinned again. "I created the light at the right time. It was all a smoke screen, some slight of hand. Convince Greengrass that the debts were real, and he'd have no choice but to capitulate. But if he'd seen through my bluff and realized that I was faking it, I would have had to go with the contract offer."

"If he figures it out, you realize he's going to be really furious," Tracey pointed out.

"True," Harry admitted. "Hence why we made sure to limit his power and influence. He's still better off than I would have liked, but he's also not as easily positioned to act against me in any way right now. I'll be very careful in the future, but I don't think we have too much to worry about in regards to Cyril Greengrass."

#####

A loud crash echoed through a dingy, dirty, hovel of a shack situated outside a small Devonshire town. The name of the town escaped him, nor did he particularly care as it was inhabited entirely by filth.

"Potter," Cyril Greengrass snarled, draining his glass of firewhiskey in a single gulp. He sat on the floor in the middle of the largest room in the shack, what might have been a sitting room in another building, glass in hand and an open bottle of Ogden's sitting beside him.

This. This was exactly the type of thing he'd been afraid would happen. That stupid bitch of a daughter of his had to go and get herself saved by the fucking Boy-Who-Lived, and, of course, the arrogant, spoiled little shit decided to ruin him, to destroy everything he'd worked for.

With an inarticulate roar of rage he grabbed the, nearly empty, bottle of firewhiskey and hurled it at the far wall where it shattered in a spray of flammable liquid and glass shards. He staggered to his feet, wavering slightly as the hovel spun around him for a moment before he staggered over to a gleaming, polished leather case and opened it, digging through the piles of parchment inside.

That bitch that he married and the waste of sperm that he spawned never knew he had monitoring charms on nearly every room in the Manor, each one tied to a separate dicta-quil. Carefully, he looked back at some of the conversations held in his eldest daughter's room between her and her whore mother. Finding the two discussions he wanted, he read carefully, squinting blearily at the parchment.

"Sorcerer's Stone and a shade of the Dark Lord," he muttered. "And a memory, preserved in a diary…" The first had no corroborating witnesses that would speak to him, but the second… "Fudge, old boy, you saw the brat's memory. I think we need to have a nice, long conversation, Cornelius."

"Oi, what's all this then?"

Greengrass spun around, staggering slightly as the world spun with him and caught himself on the edge of a half rotted, creaking old desk.

"Careful, there, guv."

He looked up, taking in the man standing in the hovel's doorway, muggle torch in one hand and the other the handle of a wooden stick stuck through a loop on his belt. Greengrass was just able to make out enough of the uniform to realize who had found him and he groaned, cursing himself for forgetting to put up muggle repelling wards.

"Evenin' Officer," he muttered. "Hope I haven't bothered anyone."

"Whatchoo doin' here?" the bobby asked, lowering his torch to point at the ground just in front of Cyril.

"Just… trying to drink away some troubles," he muttered, letting himself slump to the ground against the desk. His right hand dropped to land in his lap, right by the cuff of his left sleeve. "Got a problem. A problem I need to fix."

"We all got problems, Mate. Trouble with the Missus? Work? Drinkin' 'em away ain't the way ta fix 'em."

Cyril laughed, a dry, mirthless thing.

"Seemed… seemed like a good idea… at the time."

"It usually does, but it really aint," the bobby tried. "Look, this shack's abandoned, can't leave you here. Why don't you come with me? We've got a bed, back at the station. You could sleep this off or we could call someone ta come get ya?"

Cyril's head bobbed up and down a few times and the bobby took a step closer, reaching out to help him up.

"Come on, Mate. Up ya get. In the mornin' this'll all look a lot-"

Cyril suddenly moved, his right hand grasping the handle of the wand tucked up his left sleeve and he whipped his arm out and up, pointing the polished length of wood directly at the young man, who couldn't have been older than twenty.

"Avada Kedavra!"

###

Author's note the second: So, I know, this story is set right now in December of 1993 and the first Sword of Truth novel, Wizard's First Rule wasn't published until August of 1994. I understand that, but the idea of Wizard's First Rule was just too perfect for this instance so I'm fudging things a little. Just pretend the book came out a couple years earlier than it did in real life and all will be right with the world.

That being said, check out those books, if you haven't, it's a great series. Terry Goodkind is an amazing author with a compelling and fascinating story to tell.