Nightmare's reawakening(translation)

by dragonqueen909

This is the English translation of Fumseck73's fic (Renaissance du Cauchemar)Chamber of secrets AU. Harry found the entrance to the chamber earlier during the year. After almost having an heart attack when meeting the Basilisk, he realise that she was only lonely and became her friend. Rest of summary inside.

9. First move against Dumbles

Note : I'm really sorry for the delay, but when I said that my muse had about as much attention than Zack under caffeine… I should have added that that's when he's ALREADY on a sugar rush

Note to readers: the vast majority of this chapter was written in full lockdown due to Covid-19. The general containment is now over, but because of the morons who do NOT want to put on a mask while the virus IS STILL CIRCULATING, chances are it will be put back in place! STOP BEING DUMBASSES! Wearing a mask half an hour a day (or an hour if you go shopping) isn't going to kill you or infringe on your rights you stupid morons! Believe me, you have it easy compared to me! I work in a hotel-restaurant, where I do the dishes with a BIG dishwasher, and I can assure you that I am having difficulty breathing because of the heat and humidity, so in the middle of the street? Please, don't take me for an idiot. You can very well keep a piece of paper / tissue (depending on the mask) for a while in front of your mouth AND NOSE. If you don't put it in front of your nose, you might as well not put it on at all ! Because it is useless in this case! Good luck to those who try to enforce this rule, you really have to struggle with the idiots. (yes and all best wishes to those that unfortunately caught the virus too - Dragon)

Chapter 8: First move against Dumbledore

Sephiroth looked up when he heard a tapping at the window, raising an eyebrow when he saw an owl knocking on the window. Emma being the closest, she was the one who got up to open it for the bird. The latter entered without hesitation, coming to land directly in front of the silverette, surprising him. The owl stared at him for a few seconds, before hooting with dignity and raising a paw in the Sephiroth's direction, showing the small elongated bundle hanging on it. Realizing that it was probably his papers, the former warrior picked up the mail, politely thanking the bird for its services. The latter accepted some water from the mother, leaving immediately afterwards.

Opening the box, Sephiroth began to take out the papers one after the other. Identity card, passport, driver's license (for all types of cars), and a health insurance card to top it off… even if he didn't plan on using it. Even if he doubted that non-magical would have the means to detect Jenova cells in his blood… the Mako made his own extremely acidic compared to normal. And it wasn't something he could hide. Fortunately, he had an health of steel, as the expression said. As long as he was careful… people shouldn't notice anything abnormal. At least he hoped so. In the other papers, there was not one bodyguard contract, but two, to his greatest confusion… before he realized the difference between them. One was intended for the wizarding world, and the other for the non-magical, obviously taking into account all the differences between the two. There was also a fairly comprehensive record of his false identity, making him nod with satisfaction. The Goblins had really done everything to create a foolproof identity for him, he remarked, briefly browsing the file. He would have to read it carefully later, in order to memorize it perfectly, but he could already see that it contained all the essentials that he needed to "exist" in both worlds.

Nodding, the silverette put the file on the table, grabbing an envelope with the official seal of the bank. Unsealing it, he took out the letter, scanning it briefly. The content honestly surprised Sephiroth, as it contained an appointment with Harry's account manager. However… Minerva herself had said that she had deprived Dumbledore of his authority over Harry. Apparently she had moved it to him, probably for the boy's protection, he realized. On one hand, it suited him, since he wanted to meet the Goblin in question as soon as possible, in order to get an idea of what had happened with Harry's finances. The whole question being how to organize the day.

Looking up, he looked at Emma, who wasn't working that day.

"Emma, the Goblins have sent me a letter telling me that I can have an appointment with Harry's account manager whenever I want. Do you want to come with Hermione?" He suggested.

The latter blinked, surprised, before nodding.

"It wouldn't be luxury, Sephiroth. Regardless of the fact that we have to shop more frequently in order to satisfy your appetite… I would like to offer something to Harry. I think it will help him," she assured.

"You don't have to, Emma," said the boy quietly, embarrassed. "You already do a lot for me…"

"Much more than the Dursleys, I'm sure," assured the mother, unable to keep the disgust out of her voice while saying their name. "But do you know why I do it, Harry?" She asked gently.

Harry shook his head gently, embarrassed. Despite all that was going on… everything the Grangers were offering him… he could see that they were doing it because it pleased them, and for no other reason. And the way Emma took care of him… it was gently and respectfully. Unlike Molly… she wasn't trying to smother him with her hugs. Harry… sometimes felt like a tube of toothpaste with her. And he often felt trapped when she did that. The two women seemed to him as different as day and night, from the little the boy had been able to compare them. And Emma… reminded him a little of Minerva. Maternal… without being stuffy like Molly. Respectful of his personal space, a bit like Sephiroth, being careful not to overwhelm him with a contact that wasn't necessarily desired. Also making sure not to touch him without him expecting it.

"I do it because you deserve to receive gifts, not just used stuff like what the Dursleys left you. You have the right to receive new things. Just like Hermione or Sephiroth."

Emma did indeed intend to buy something from him too. She could see he was suffering from PTSD, even if he was hiding it well. It was in the little details, when one knew what to look for. The way he always looked around when he was in a new place, trying to keep the wall behind him, his discomfort with physical contact, and much more. Oh, he was hiding it very well, she had no trouble admitting it… but being in the family of a soldier gave her an advantage. And, on the one hand, it grieved her. But it wasn't like she could openly say something to him. Sephiroth… looked like someone very discreet, probably because of his "education", and these kinds of personal questions would most certainly go wrong, at best, especially since they didn't knew each other for long. Barely a week wasn't enough to get to know each other well enough for these questions. Maybe later, she told herself firmly.

Seeing the boy shyly nod his head, she went to take her wallet and a bag, including a cooler. The provisions didn't last long now with Sephiroth's presence, the latter's needs being particularly great. However, neither Emma nor Nathan wanted to comment on this, knowing that even if he could theoretically consume less… it would have an impact on his abilities. And she suspected it would be unacceptable to the ex-general. Especially with the danger hanging over his protégé. Which was the main reason they said nothing. And even if it meant that they had to buy more food every time they went shopping… they could easily afford it.

Once she was sure she had everything, Emma turned to Sephiroth, curious.

"Sephiroth, would you mind taking us with your teleportation?" She asked curiously. "I have to admit that if I don't have to worry about gas or parking the car, it would suit me a lot," she admitted, slightly embarrassed.

Sephiroth looked startled at first, before his expression turned amused and understanding.

"No problem, Emma," he assured, nodding. "Just let me try it alone before if it's possible, in terms of distance. I think it is, but I prefer to test it myself first. The main problem is just the visualization of the destination, but since it has barely changed in the last century, everything will be fine."

Closing his eyes, the silverette concentrated, visualizing his destination. Extending his senses unconsciously, he began the process of teleporting. He didn't lie when he said he thought he could, just as he preferred to test before, just in case. Not perceiving anyone around him on reaching his destination, he rematerialized, the wizards not paying him the slightest attention as he reformed, the shadow at the Apparation Point sufficient to mask the black smoke he created while teleporting. The wizards created a noise similar to an explosion or a gunshot when they apparated, he himself created smoke. It was the only difference visible on the outside, even if the most powerful managed to apparate almost without noise. Looking around, he nodded with satisfaction that no one was paying attention to him, especially since he had thought about changing his hair color before leaving.

Performing the reverse maneuver, he reappeared in Emma's living room, almost making the children giggle at his somewhat theatrical appearance. Amused, he bowed to them, making the mother laugh this time, before looking at them seriously.

"You'll all have to hold on to me for it to work," he explained calmly. "What I suggest is that Harry and Hermione each hold my hands, and that you put your arm in mine."

Emma blinked, a little surprised, watching the children do so without hesitation, and approached in turn. Linking her arm with Sephiroth's, as if he was taking her to a date, she looked at him hesitantly.

"Like this?" She asked, unsure.

The silverette nodded with satisfaction.

"Perfect, Emma. Are you ready?"

Faced with general confirmation, he teleported again. Emma felt a brief sense of disorientation during the few seconds they were in the dark, but it dissipated along with the darkness that had enveloped them. She blinked two or three times before releasing Sephiroth's arm, which was looking around carefully. Fortunately, no one seemed to have paid attention to them this time either, and they immediately headed for Gringotts. The Goblins at the entrance stiffened when they saw them approaching, greeting them almost nervously. The events of the previous week had sparked an unprecedented wave of investigation into the bank, with the upper echelons seeking to eliminate any corrupt Goblins. So far, three Tellers and an Account Manager languished in the jails, and there were chances at least one other Account Manager joined them fast. All they hoped for… was that it would be enough to satisfy the Nightmare. Otherwise… the bank would probably not survive his wrath.

Sephiroth's goal for the day wasn't only to make the most out of Harry's account manager meeting, but also the inheritance test. After all… Esmeralda had said that the boy would have a bigger claim to Salazar Slytherin's name than Riddle. Why? He had to admit it intrigued him.

Entering the bank, they immediately went towards Gnarlfang's booth, which was present that day. The latter hold back a grimace, at least relieved to know that he would only deal briefly with them. The line being not very long, they quickly found themselves in front of him, and Harry talked shyly.

"Hello, I wish to transfer money to the Grangers please. Is it possible to make a monthly transfer as well?"

"Harry…" sighed Emma. "You don't have to do this."

"Sephiroth eats a lot," objected the boy, looking at her. "It must be expensive, right? I don't want this to be a problem for you."

"That's okay," Emma assured him. "Nathan and I make a very good living, I assure you. No risk of financial problems. Really."

Harry refused to be deterred, however, and Emma ended up resigning herself to accept a similar amount to what the Dursleys had received… but she certainly wasn't going to keep it for herself, for sure. When it was settled, Sephiroth spoke up, explaining that he would like to be able to speak to an Inheritance Test Manager, surprising Gnarlfang. The silverette explained in a low voice why he wanted to do this, making the Goblin raise an eyebrow. Nodding, he called a young clerk, who motioned for them to follow him.

Neither Emma nor Hermione could come, however, the inheritance tests being kept confidential, but they assured that they would wait until they were done with it. Sephiroth suppressed a slight snicker at the name of the Goblin carrying out the inheritance tests. Tuffglare? The name was funny to him, even if he would never say it in front of the Goblin. The others had taught him that this kind of thing wasn't done. At least not if he wanted to stay on good terms with the person. The silverette greeted him the Goblin way, imitated by Harry, whom he had briefed on the way, even if the boy's greeting was much more timid.

Tuffglare raised an eyebrow at hearing them, a little surprised, even if he returned the greeting the Goblin way, before getting to the heart of the matter. After all, time was money for Goblins. Even if his interlocutor was the Nightmare.

"So, Mr. Valentine, why are you here with Mr. Potter? It seems to me that his family's ancestors are however fairly well known, right?"

Sephiroth nodded in response.

"I could see that, indeed. However… I think that certain branches of the family may have been… voluntarily concealed, or have never been known. There is also his mother's side, where I wouldn't be surprised if a squib could have descended from wizard families, now extinct. Besides… Esmeralda, Salazar Slytherin's Basilisk herself, said that he would have more legitimacy to the name than Tom Riddle himself."

Tuffglare raised his eyebrows even more, but he could understand the silverette's reasoning, who had changed back his hair color and the shape of his pupils as soon as they entered his office. Nodding, he pulled the kit out on his desk, motioning for Harry to approach.

"All right, Heir Potter. Slightly cut your thumb with the knife, and drop thirteen drops of blood into the cup. Magic will do the rest."

The boy did so timidly, trusting the knife to heal him as soon as the required number was reached. Meanwhile, Tuffglare had prepared the parchment, planting the tip of a dark purple quill at the bottom of it. The scroll was also enchanted to lengthen on its own as the test progressed, until the magic hit a metaphorical "wall" after a while, when the naming conventions became too different. The maximum was the end of the Iron Age, which corresponded to the first century before Christ. The Goblin had never seen a Heritage Test go any further, and believed it was impossible. What he didn't know… was that with Harry… and Sephiroth… the impossible only became improbable.

The boy did as instructed, and watched the quill begin to write as soon as his wound closed. The latter wrote only one bloodline, and yet two bloodlines wrote themselves before his eyes. Dividing again after a while, coming from Salazar Slytherin this time. To Harry's surprise… his mother was descended from his eldest son by a Squib born in the 14th century if he trusted dates. Who apparently marked the end of this branch for wizards. Voldemort (aka Tom Riddle) was descended from the youngest son, though he couldn't help but shiver in disgust at his enemy's family tree. After a certain point… especially when the family was reduced in number, leaving only the Gaunt… they apparently only reproduced between brothers and sisters. And Harry may be lagging behind in biology, having been magically educated for two years… even he could see the danger in this practice. It was almost pure and simple suicide at this level.

He watched as the quill kept going up, curious and intrigued when he saw that it didn't stop after Salazar Slytherin, reaching and going beyond the Iron Age on the Potter side… unaware that it just shouldn't have been able to. But Tuffglare knew this. And his shocked confusion was enough for Sephiroth to realize it… and it baffled him. Because Goblins rarely showed their emotions, even if you had to know them well to see it. The silverette watched the quill continue to write, the parchment lengthening on its own, quickly exceeding one meter, then two, then three, and continuing on uninterrupted. Finally, the quill stopped, making the three of them blink, the Goblin shocked to see a test take so long, when it just shouldn't have been possible.

After a few moments of remaining motionless, silent, Tuffglare reached out, retrieving the quill, and motioning for Harry to retrieve the parchment. The boy did so shyly, reading his family tree with some curious greed, carefully incorporating his family names. He slowly climbed the tree, noting the dates of birth and death of his ancestors, saddened to see that some of them had died very young, sometimes even before they were a year old. His mother's line ended at Salazar Slytherin… but his father's line continued long after that, much to his amazement.

Finally, he reached the top of the parchment, and blinked at the names of his oldest ancestors. Even more timidly than before, he drew Sephiroth's attention to them, fearing his reaction.

"Seph? Look… Is it really…?"

The silverette blinked, surprised. He hadn't tried to look at the inheritance test, respecting Harry's privacy, but he leaned over it with curiosity… before snorting with some ironic amusement at the names marked. Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockhart, whose oldest son was called Storm, and of which Harry was the descendant. He didn't even dare imagine the kid.

"Well, that explains part of your luck," he said with some amusement. "I imagine Cloud must be yelling at me to get away from you, Lifestream or not."

"You're not mad?" Asked the boy with hesitation and confusion.

Sephiroth looked at him, baffled.

"Why should I be mad at you?" He asked gently. "You aren't responsible for the actions of your ancestor, Harry. You're not him… even if I have to admit that you do look a little like him. I'm not Snape," He added kindly to the teen's confused relief. "I'm not going to hold you against the fact that you're Cloud's descendent… quite the contrary. If he hadn't stopped me… I would have destroyed the planet."

"Really?" The boy asked hopefully.

Snape… demeaned him so much when comparing him to his father, saying that he was exactly like him at the same age, despite the fact that the poor child didn't even remembered his parents… that he was afraid that Sephiroth would do the same. Because even though his father had been dead for almost 13 years… Snape behaved as if he were still alive. And for Sephiroth it was even worse, because, from a certain point of view, the events with Cloud had taken place perhaps two years earlier at most. Suffice to say yesterday, from the silverette point of view. Because he had told Harry that time had little meaning when he slept in the crystal. But to hear him say that he didn't hold it against him for his ancestor's actions… even if the latter had killed him three times… was a relief.

Sephiroth nodded gently in response. He was aware of the marks left by both Snape and the Dursleys… and did his best to reassure Harry, as well as heal the scars left by their treatment. The day he was allowed to kill Dumbledore, however… would likely be one of the happiest days of his life since he woke up. Even if the most beautiful would always undoubtedly be to find Her.

"I owe Cloud a debt, although he certainly wouldn't see it that way. And beside… I made a promise. And I intend to hold it," he said softly.

Harry remembered that promise, even though Sephiroth had never given details. Find someone to protect, in her memory. And that comforted him in a way. The silverette then hesitated for a moment, before turning his attention to Tuffglare. His question raised an astonished eyebrow from the Goblin, making him confused.

"I would also like to be able to do an inheritance test myself, if possible. I have never known my biological parents… and I would like to know if the names that a… friend gave me are correct."

Tuffglare nodded. At the point where he was… he was not sure that something could still surprise him. He would soon be proven wrong again, however. Sephiroth followed the same steps as Harry, except that he had to reopen the wound three times, the wound closing too quickly for the thirteen drops of blood to fall into the bowl. The test was much shorter this time, not needing to go back for nearly ten millennia. However, Sephiroth could see that it showed his ancestors of over at least 30 generations.

The silverette took the parchment with a certain nervousness. If knowing that Jenova hadn't been his mother had relieved him, in a sense, after what she had made him do… part of him was genuinely worried that Hojo was indeed his father. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, missing the Goblin's shocked expression at the state of the quill, the tip of which having completely melted under the effect of his blood, rendering it unusable. Slowly opening his eyelids, his gaze fixed on his parents' names nervously… before his shoulders relaxed when he saw them. Vincent Valentine… was indeed his father, and it was a huge relief for the former General. Everything was still better than Hojo, but knowing for certain that the madman wasn't his father… took a heavy weight from his heart. He remembered images showing his parents, and even Genesis had admitted that he really looked like them… and the redhead had confessed that he had a hard time imagining that he could have believed that Hojo was his father, even taking into account his mental state at the time. Sephiroth's gaze briefly passed over the names of his ancestors, noting without much surprise that they were Wutaians. He remembered that Genesis had commented on it, his features weren't purely Midgardians or of the islands other than Wutai. Grimoire, his grandfather, was probably the third or fourth of his name to be born outside of Wutai.

His lips pursed with a mixture of sorrow and anger as he looked below his name. Tuffglare could catch a glimpse of his Titles below his name, and he couldn't help but shiver. The Nightmare wasn't just a children's story, after all. But his expression… was a strange mixture of anger and grief as he read what was written on the parchment. Sephiroth… could read something that showed that fan theories weren't necessarily bullshit. Because a line linked his name to that of a woman, Victoria "Vicky" Kalypso, who was one of the scientists under Hojo's orders. He vaguely remembered her, primarily because she had been sick when he was about thirteen. She had spent days vomiting in the morning, before disappearing for more than a year… and coming back as if nothing had happened, but looking at him with a little satisfied air that had always rubbed him the wrong way. He understood better what had happened now.

If Sephiroth had avoided medical knowledge as much as possible… he hadn't forgotten what he had learned during the Shinra era. And in vitro fertilization… was one of them. She had told them about certain theories that the Remnants… were either clones of him (slightly genetically altered before birth) or his sons, according to certain fan theories, such as the fact that they were actually "pieces" of his soul he had voluntarily separated from the rest to welcome his spirit during his third confrontation with Cloud. And she had no doubts that these theories were true, considering the number of possible universes that could exist simultaneously. Regarding his own situation… Yazoo, Kadaj and Loz… were his sons, apparently. If he relied on the dates, they would have been born shortly before his 14th birthday… and were just 15 years old when they died.

A sad sigh escaped him, murmuring softly "She was right" with sadness. Strangely… Jenova was also listed in his family tree, but in a rather… strange way. Her name was placed between that of his parents, a line connecting her with his name nonetheless. And below her nickname (The Calamity from the Sky), was written something that made him confused, even if he suspected that it had to refer to her extraterrestrial status. Specie: unknown (creature). Well, he already knew more or less that some of his… behaviors weren't completely human, and his… rather peculiar constitution either. After all… a normal human didn't have eyes or hair like his, let alone his wing. So he wasn't completely surprised. And he suspected that it would eventually be known. Sephiroth… honestly didn't care for the opinions of the sheeples that made up the majority of the wizarding world, but he wasn't stupid enough to not doubt that Harry wouldn't have any problems if it ever came to be learned early.

And that was the reason why he always kept his pupils round at Hogwarts, instead of being slit in their normal state. He didn't really need to focus on maintaining his appearance the way he wanted, however, which was a good thing. All he had to do was visualize what he wanted to look like and start the change. His physique reflected what he had decided, and, unless he lost control of his emotions, didn't change until he decided to. It was almost as natural as breathing for him… even though the majority of his… "training", so to speak, was done under Jenova's control, when she controlled his body. But he hadn't forgotten what he had learned.

A sigh escaped him as he shook his head, coming out of his thoughts. The past was the past, and if he regretted some of his actions... there was nothing he could do about it. The future, however… wasn't written yet, whatever some people may think. Like Dumbledore. Speaking of which… Sephiroth had a meeting with Bloodfang, Harry's new Account Manager. Rolling up the results of his inheritance test, some of which he wanted to study privately when he got home, he placed it in one of his pockets, before looking at the boy carefully.

"Harry, do you want to come with me to see your Account Manager?" He asked gently. "Or do you prefer to stay with Emma and Hermione this time?"

The teen hesitated for a few seconds, before making a timid decision.

"I'd rather go with Emma and Hermione, if you don't mind," he said softly. "Anyway, I won't understand what you are going to discuss…"

The silverette gently placed his hand on his shoulder, making him look up in surprise.

"It is not important in itself, and, in any case, it will be your turn one day to take care of your finances. However… it's not urgent," said Sephiroth kindly. "Concentrate on your studies for the moment… the rest can wait. And don't worry about Voldemort. I'm making him my case," he assured firmly, squeezing Harry's shoulder lightly to reassure him. "And if you ever need me… don't hesitate to call me. I will hear you, even if you're far away."

The boy nodded, comforted by his words. He didn't want to call on Sephiroth every time he found himself in danger, especially considering how often it happened. Only if he had no other choice. The silverette turned his attention back to Tuffglare, who swallowed in spite of himself. There was something… intense in the man's gaze which gave him absolutely no desire to annoy him, whatever he asked. He just hoped that his requests would remain reasonable, before calling a young Goblin to guide them. The former general, however, just greeted him, Goblin-style, and walked out, following the apprentice, who took them back to the bank entrance, where they found Emma and Hermione still waiting. After explaining the situation to the mother, the latter agreed to take Harry with them. Emma warned him that they were going to visit a store where they could find magical toys, explaining that if he didn't find them there, they would be at Flourish and Blotts to look at the books.

Sephiroth nodded, glad to know that he could easily find them once he finished at Gringotts. He still didn't know Harry well enough to locate him easily by concentrating, which made him easily nervous. Even with Her… it had taken months for that. However… once he will have... "tuned in", for lack of another word, to Harry… he could join him instantly if he called his name. No one paid attention to him when he turned to follow the Goblin who had guided him, the wizards not thinking that Harry Potter could be present in the bank, thanks to the cap he was wearing, hiding his scar. Unfortunately, the appointment with an ophthalmologist wasn't until the following week, the latter being particularly busy with the arrival of summer, even if Emma had been able to use her reputation to obtain an emergency appointment with a practitioner she knew. Harry urgently needed new glasses, even if Sephiroth had suggested lenses. He had no plans to get rid of the glasses entirely, however, expecting wizards to be stupid about Muggle advances in technology. They would expect Harry to wear glasses, which would work in their favor if they decided to go out unnoticed, as hiding the scar with a little makeup wouldn't be complicated. That, plus a baseball cap like today to hide his mane, and no wizard would think their "Savior" was among them.

Sephiroth just wanted to scoff with contempt. Sheeples is what Wizards were, the so-called purebloods being the worst. And even. Sometimes he felt like it was an insult to these poor beasts, just as it would have been insulting to call the Dursleys animals. All he hoped for… was that the adults would end up in jail. Otherwise… heads would roll. Literally. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing, before following the young Goblin, who was particularly nervous. The latter just hoped that the Nightmare wouldn't destroy the bank by learning of what Bloodfang and Gnarlfang had discovered… which had triggered a dull anger in Gringotts. He didn't have the details, being too young and too undergraded to know, but something told him that the silverette was going to be… furious in a very short time. And that was an understatement.

Bloodfang looked up when he heard the door to his office open, a chill running down his back despite himself seeing the Nightmare come in. He wasn't at the bank the last time it had happened, but he had heard the rumors. From his own brother, too, and he knew he wasn't one to exaggerate. He was still shocked that he had been chosen, rather than another older and higher placed Goblin, to handle the Potter's accounts. Especially for an account with a profile as high as the Potter family. From some research he was able to do as he explored the financial maneuvers made by Dumbledore and Molly Weasley-Prewett… the rumor that their account was one of the oldest of the bank was far from the truth. It was even the oldest bank account. Long before the family was named Potter. Gringotts… existed for centuries in England, long before the islands bear this name, long before Britannia was their name. And the Potters… and their ancestors… had always had an account at the bank. The name may have changed… but not their vault number. Always the same since the creation of Gringotts. That is nonexistent. Because the oldest vaults didn't have numbers, the system being much more recent than these vaults. The only other vault that didn't have a number… was that of Emrys. And it had been dormant for almost a millennium. Ever since Merlin stopped showing signs of life… even though he was apparently not dead.

Shaking himself mentally, he responded to Sephiroth's greeting, the latter showing excellent manners for a human… or, at least, an almost human, as his appearance showed. Races didn't matter to Goblins if they were honest. What mattered was the respect shown… which was returned if it was the case, and the martial prowess. And the Nightmare… was known for his sense of honor and the respect he showed to those who were worthy of it. Not to mention his fighting abilities in the land of Wutai, the rare testimonies of the time granting him certain respect, even if it was partly reluctantly, even if the madness in which he had sunk had tarnished him a little in the eyes of this people. It was clear, however, that he hadn't been himself during the events of Meteor Fall, his tactical sense being clearly absent from his planning… because even someone who wasn't a warrior could see that his actions didn't have anything to do with what the General he had been was capable of.

Pushing these thoughts from his mind, he decided to start with Molly Prewett-Weasley, since she was the less… serious of the two offenders. Taking the findings out of the investigation folder, he passed them on to Sephiroth, who nodded. The silverette read the pages carefully, frowning. He honestly expected worse from the mother… even if he didn't really understand what had allowed her to withdraw enough money to finance the education of her children… except for her eldest, where she had taken only about 10% of the cost of his education from Harry's vaults. It was always that… even if he didn't mean to let it go completely. Raising his head, he stared at the Goblin with his feline eyes, making him shudder.

"What can you tell me about Mrs. Weasley's withdrawals?" He asked in a calm tone, but in which brooded a dull anger.

Bloodfang gulped, but replied bravely.

"All the details are in Albus Dumbledore's file, which I'll pass to you as soon as you're done with Molly Prewett-Weasley. What I can tell you immediately, however, is that she only used the money she could withdraw to finance the education of her children. All the other expenses of the family were either made thanks to Mr. Weasley's salary, or thanks to the vegetables and dishes that she sold at their village market. What is… your decision about her?" He asked timidly, wanting to avoid provoking the man's anger.

He could literally feel the room temperature dropping several degrees, and he wasn't looking forward to see his reaction to Dumbledore's case. Sephiroth frowned when he heard it, but nodded. Obviously, Molly Weasley had avoided making the most of Harry's money, even if he disapproved of her more or less looting his accounts… although the old wizard was clearly the worst of the two. Frowning, the silverette weighed his options. He could certainly demand that they immediately reimburse the money spent… but something was driving him not to, and he could see several reasons without having to think long. First, it was clear that they couldn't afford to repay the money immediately, since Molly Weasley had used the money to finance her children's education. Second… Harry was close to Ron, the youngest son… even if Ron needed to be reminded of his table manners. Permanently. The thought made him sigh almost inaudibly. No, he wouldn't separate Harry from one of his rare friends… even if he had the firm intention of putting a stop to Ron's tendencies to repel those who tried to approach his protégé. He slowly spoke again, organizing his thoughts as he went along.

"For now… I prefer to do nothing, for a number of reasons, the main one being that I doubt that they can afford to repay, even by selling all of their possessions. Which doesn't mean I'm going to let her get away with it," he added calmly, seeing the expression on Goblin's face. "I will be lenient… provided that she or the children reimburse the sums used. Let's call it… a loan that is long overdue in some cases. And make it clear that only Molly Weasley, or her children if they wish to rectify the wrongs caused by their mother, must pay. No need to charge Arthur Weasley for something he isn't responsible for."

Bloodfang nodded, quickly noting the instructions. He then handed Albus Dumbledore's file to the silverette, fighting the shivers, refusing to appear weak. Sephiroth opened the file and started to read it, barely paying attention to the almost terrified expression he could see on the Goblin's face. His own expression turned increasingly gloomy reading the findings of the investigation, anger burning in his heart. Albus Dumbledore… had done everything to loot Harry's accounts, but he was only able to access the trust vault for the minor children's education, which was automatically filled at the start of each solstice until a certain amount was reached. The Family vault was another matter, and only the family could access it, or people the family trusted. Good thing, at least the family artifacts and grimoires had been safe, out of his reach. His anger started to boil over as he read the Headmaster's (and other titles) bank transactions since Harry's parents' death. The old wizard… had systematically seized the money bequeathed to Harry, as well as property. The family artifacts and grimoires had escaped him, as they were generally too sensitive to leave the bank, and had been moved by Goblins from one Family Vault to another thanks to their special branch of magic.

Bloodfang couldn't help but let his bowel go when the room temperature plummeted, the ice spreading on the floor and even climbing on the walls. He could also see his breath condensing in front of his face, and knew that Sephiroth had just reached the part of the Dursleys. How they were paid between double and triple what they were officially paid to take care of Harry… and to abuse him this time. Nothing that left long-term physical traces, however, or that risked sending him to the hospital, but enough to make him easily malleable by someone he would see as a savior to have him rescued from this situation. The abuse was carefully codified, he noted through the greenish filter that had superimposed on his vision, detailing that he was not allowed to know his name before entering school, that it was okay to hit him, as well as the little food he would receive. All this so that he was physically and magically weakened, even if the chains on his magical core weren't detailed. But Sephiroth knew that the boy's magic had helped him stay alive, growing wider and faster than normal to try to keep him alive. Which left him with an enormous reserve now that his magical core was no longer permanently drained… and which now required regular training to help him control his magic.

The former General just wanted to destroy everything in his path, and he was fighting against the desire to get out of the bank to take care of Dumbledore. Repeatedly, the latter had needed to go and remind the Dursleys to not go too hard with Harry… without ever doing anything to treat him even if only as a human being, and not a slave or worse, an object over which they had all the rights. Sephiroth just wanted to destroy everything… and part of him regretted that there was no VR room in this time. Without his knowledge, the lights flickered and dimmed slightly, his aura interfering with the magic of the bank, making the Goblins extremely nervous… and confusing the wizards who were in the bank's lobby. But the Goblins weren't the only ones who felt that the Nightmare was angry. Three other people also felt it.

Hermione stopped dead in front of the shelves where there were enchanted plushies, a shiver of anxiety running down her back without her knowing why… and the absolute certainty that Sephiroth was angry. No, not angry, she corrected mentally, utterly pissed.

"Is everything ok Hermione?" Harry asked timidly, visibly worried.

The teen shook herself before answering him.

"Yes, don't worry. Just… I think… Sephiroth is angry?" She said, her tone halfway between statement and question.

"How do you know?" Asked the boy, puzzled.

Hermione hesitated for a few seconds, before answering, hesitant.

"An intuition? I really don't know. I just know he's furious about something."

Harry looked at her in confusion, before nodding, accepting her answer without question. He trusted his friend, even if he wondered how she could know that, but he wasn't going to refute her intuition. He knew she had trouble trusting her instincts, unlike him.

Much further away, two boys froze at exactly the same time as Hermione.

One was on a flying broom, and couldn't help cackling in a devilish tone, though wondering in the corner of his mind why he felt sorry for the soul that had caused the anger he felt, knowing unconsciously that this person was going to suffer… before telling himself that no, they must have deserved it. Too bad it wasn't that albino ferret in this position… and why did he suddenly think that? He wondered, frowning. Shaking his head, he shook these thoughts out of his mind, resuming his flight. He wanted to be able to join his House Quidditch team if there ever was a spot getting free… even if he didn't want any of the members to get injured. And that allowed him to breathe a little, far from his family. At times… he was choking under the numbers, without knowing why.

The second… was in a library, and suddenly looked up from his book, frowning, wondering why he had a sudden and violent urge to go on a furious rant about the lack of honor of some. After a few minutes of thinking about it, he shrugged, going back to the book he was reading. The Legend of DragonHeart was one of the oldest books in the library's family archives, and, strangely, that book resonated with him. Especially the Old Code of the Knights… which seemed strangely familiar to him. As if… as if he had heard it in another life?

The wizarding world was still unaware of the waves to come… which would shake the comfort of the so-called elite in a short time. Taking their ill-gotten privileges with them… and leveling the playing field. But we aren't there yet.

In his office in Gringotts, Bloodfang had to fight the urge to run away from Sephiroth's presence. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be blamed for giving in to his instincts, despite their warrior culture, because no one wanted to come face to face with an angry Nightmare. And there he was just not angry, but enraged. The Goblin wondered in the back of his mind if it would help to say that his people shared his fury, before deciding that he would rather wait until he calmed down a bit. Talking could draw attention to him, and focus the icy rage that swirled around him. He still wanted to live, not die frozen to death in the middle of summer, his clan would make fun of him for the next ten generations if it ever happened.

Sephiroth's fury swirled around him for what seemed like forever to the poor Goblin, the silverette forcing himself to read the file until the end. When he was finished, he gently put the papers back on the desk, closed his eyes, and began to meditate. Slowly, gradually, he managed to reduce the anger, his aura calming down at the same time, until the room temperature returned more or less to normal. Bloodfang felt some relief when he saw that he had more or less calmed down… even though the ice on the walls was still there. A shiver ran down his back again when the former General opened his eyes, which glowed softly in the office light, making them look unreal and inhuman. Maybe he had regained his composure, yes… but he was clearly furious at Dumbledore's actions. The latter was fucked up, Bloodfang knew it. The whole question was… what sauce Sephiroth was going to eat him with… metaphorically speaking. The Goblin spoke, his almost shy tone far from the usual assurance of his breed.

"Champion King Ragnok said he had a… place prepared for you to let off steam, Mr. Valentine. Do you want me to take you there?"

Sephiroth blinked, a little surprised, before a slightly amused smile stretched his lips. The vision did nothing to relax Bloodfang, who found him even more disturbing like that, even if he was relieved to see some amusement in his expression.

"Give my thanks to Ragnok… but I doubt you have something capable of supporting my strength long enough for me to let off steam properly, even with magic. Not to mention that it would take way too long, and I don't want to keep Harry and the others waiting too long. However… I think a break will do us both good, Manager Bloodfang. Refreshments probably won't be too much," said the silverette diplomatically.

The Goblin blinked in surprise, before realizing that the man must probably be able to smell his… "little accident", and offered him an easy escape by suggesting refreshments, allowing him to be absent for a few minutes without losing face. Greeting him with a nod, he couldn't hide his relief when answering.

"I also think this is a good idea, Mr. Valentine. Do you have a preference?"

The amused glow in Sephiroth's gaze was more pronounced this time… and also less disturbing.

"If you could avoid the typical food of your race, I would appreciate it. Otherwise… I have little preference. I am not difficult. And I doubt that even you have an alcohol that can make me intoxicated. So don't hesitate to bring the strongest."

Nodding, the Manager went out as dignified as possible, accosting another Goblin on the way to ask him to prepare refreshments… and the strongest alcohol they had in stock. He had no doubts about the assertion of his… "client", if he could call him that, regarding the fact that he is immune to alcohol (when the NIGHTMARE in person was wandering on the surface of the earth, and was even in front of you, nothing could surprise you), but he himself wouldn't have said no to a good drink. All he hoped for… was that Sephiroth would be a little calmer when he returned.

The concerned man took advantage of the break to reread the documents, struggling to keep his hard-won calm with some of the information he could read there. Sephiroth frowned, noticing that Dumbledore would have paid a certain Arabella Figg to keep an eye on Harry. The question being… did she or did she not report the fact that he was mistreated? And if so… it cast a pretty dark light on Harry's life. Other than that… most of the old goat banking movements had apparently focused on the under-the-table payments to buy votes, or silencing people on some of his activities. Some of the money had also gone to the expenses of his Order of the Phoenix, to buy ingredients for healing potions (but not only that, he remarked, trying to figure out the different potions he could make with those), food, some weapons (aka wands), and protective clothing. But most of the money he had been able to withdraw had been placed in his own vault, accumulating ill-gotten interest.

The silverette placed the file on the desk as Bloodfang returned, dressed in clean clothes and with a tray on which the promised refreshments were. Sephiroth looked at the choice of drinks thoughtfully, before deciding on the Firewhiskey. As strong as it was… this alcohol was very, very far from reaching the power of Seventh Heaven. He took a few seconds to regret the drink, knowing that in his state of mind, getting drunk wasn't the idea of the century. Even to try to forget. His control over himself was already on the verge of giving in, and he didn't want to see it happen. Sure, he might be able to get rid of Dumbledore, the Dursleys, and others… but he was lucid enough to know that he wouldn't escape Minerva. And he wasn't suicidal.

Emptying his glass in one shot, he barely blinked, letting out the flames for which the drink was famous, before pouring himself a cup of tea. Sandwiches and other pastries were also welcomed, and Bloodfang also served himself on his side. The next few minutes passed in silence, although the tension in the room dropped considerably from when Sephiroth found himself reading Dumbledore's file.

Finally, the silver man put down his cup, silently signaling that he had finished by picking up the file on the old wizard. Understanding the signal, Bloodfang also put down his glass, and the tray disappeared on its own a few seconds later. Looking at the former warrior, he could see that if he was still in a bad mood, his control was back in place, which was a relief.

"How do you plan to proceed with Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Valentine?" He asked politely, diving straight to the heart of the problem.

Sephiroth let out a sigh in response. Although he would have loved to get rid of the old goat immediately, Minerva had been clear that, for now, certain things had to happen before he could take care of Riddle, and, therefore, of Dumbledore.

"Right now… I don't plan to do anything, for a number of reasons. The first… is that Minerva herself appeared to me in a dream, and made it clear to me that certain things needed to happen before Riddle, aka Voldemort, could be eliminated for good. I'm pretty… sure that leaving Albus Dumbledore alive, at least for now, is one of them. Although I don't lack the desire to kill him."

Bloodfang jumped, surprised, before nodding, shocked. If the order came from the Goddess herself… he was certainly not going to protest. Sephiroth, however, wasn't finished.

"Plus… the longer we wait before we deal with Dumbledore… and Molly Weasley if she decides not to repay the money she… borrowed, the more they will sink into their crimes. Especially Dumbledore."

"I… see," said the Goblin, shivering in spite of himself that the Goddess… had decided to get actively involved in their lives. "In any case, we at Gringotts have been busy… tracking down the money spent by Albus Dumbledore from Mr Potter's accounts."

Sephiroth nodded in response.

"Speaking of which… can you tell me more about Arabella Figg?"

Bloodfang nodded, pulling out a file.

"Mrs Arabella Doreen Figg is a Squib, born from the Fudge family, and she is the older sister of the "esteemed" Minister," said the Goblin, sarcastic. "She was disowned because she couldn't attend Hogwarts, precisely because she is a Squib, and ended up establishing herself as a half-Kneazles breeder, which she sells to wizards or Muggles, in order to have an income, as modest as it is. However, over the last decade or so, Albus Dumbledore (and Bloodfang literally snarled the name), has paid her to live in Little Whinging, to look after Heir Potter. And I can assure you that the owls did a lot of back and forth. At least once a week or more."

"So... she was reporting what she saw to Dumbledore," said Sephiroth softly. "And judging by the number of letters sent... she mustn't approve of the treatment of Harry at the hands of these... beasts."

"This is also my opinion," confirmed Bloodfang. "However, she has never been to Gringotts since her parents… disinherited her when she was 17 years old. I wouldn't be surprised that until Dumbledore contacted her to settle her in Little Whinging, she hadn't had any contact with the wizarding world. Neither of her children turned out to be magical either, and her husband died around fifteen years ago."

"Suspicious death?" Asked Sephiroth, barely surprised.

But the Goblin shook his head.

"No, he died in a traffic accident in France, and there is nothing to suggest Dumbledore's influence in this event."

"I see…" said Sephiroth slowly. "Where is Arabella Figg currently located?"

"According to her banking movements… visiting her youngest son, who settled in Ireland. I would add, moreover, that she probably never knew that Dumbledore was paying her with Mr. Potter's own money. This one… had the money converted into Muggle money before sending it every month."

The silverette nodded. From what little Harry had told him… Arabella Figg had played the role of an old woman a little crazy, which was only talking about her cats all the time when she was babysitting him. The boy had admitted to being bored to death at her place… but he still preferred that to being locked in his "room".

"I see. Do you know when she should return home?"

"If she follows her usual pattern… today or tomorrow at the latest. Do you intend to meet her?" Bloodfang asked in a neutral tone.

"Yes, for a number of reasons, the main one being to explain to her that Albus Dumbledore mustn't know, at least for now, that the Dursleys have been arrested. Also, she should be informed that all payments received from this old goat were made with Harry's money."

Bloodfang nodded. Sephiroth clearly regarded Mrs. Figg as innocent of any crime after the information he had received, at most guilty of being ignorant of the true origin of the money she received. Sephiroth also asked Bloodfang if it was possible to place a spell or ward to redirect the owls to the Grangers' house, sending them to Gringotts this time. The warrior said, however, that it would be good if they sent the originals or a copy to the Headmaster, so that the Headmaster didn't immediately realized that something was wrong. They took another quarter of an hour to work out the final details, then Sephiroth took leave of Bloodfang, greeting him respectfully, as warrior to warrior.

Coming out of the bank, his disguise in place, he took a few minutes to calm down completely, knowing that Harry was always worried and nervous when someone got angry around him… even if the boy gave him a trust that surprised him honestly. The silverette didn't know if it was because he had saved him from Riddle, or because he had protected him from Snape, or the Dursleys, or a combination of all that… and it really wasn't important to him. It reminded him of another person… and just the memory of the trust she had placed in them made his heart ache. A part of him… remained convinced he wasn't as worthy of it as she had thought. Because he had been unable to protect her, in the end. Even if she told him it wasn't his fault, because he hadn't been there when she was… murdered. Closing his eyes, he pushed the grief away as best he could. To dwell on the past… wouldn't lead to anything. Even if he couldn't help it at times.

With a sigh, he quietly used Scan to make sure he had spotted Harry where Emma had told him they were going. And indeed, they were still in the magic toy shop. Heading in that direction, he barely paid attention to the wizards around him, who went about their business as if nothing had happened. For them… the school year had just ended, and they were ignorant of what could have happened inside the bank… or in the world at large. And Sephiroth had no intention of drawing their attention to it yet.

oOo

Harry looked around in wonder as he entered the store. There were toys of all kinds around them, some very similar to those that could have been found in the Muggle world, like dolls… and others that were so obviously magical that he couldn't prevent himself from looking at them with fascination. A noise above them caught his attention, and he couldn't help laughing when he saw a pirate ship flying over the shelves, its canons letting out colored sparks, the noise almost realistic if it weren't for volume. A little further away was a kind of rocking horse, old version, enchanted to behave like a real horse, and quite realistic. A movement to his side attracted his attention, and he approached the wall to find a kind of dollhouse in the likeness of Hogwarts, and in front of which ran rails for a miniature train… which looked very much like the Express. There were also yo-yos, spinning tops spinning on their own, changing colors or patterns at more or less regular intervals, surprise boxes, and so much more to see that he didn't know where to look, despite his lack of glasses. Emma had promised him an appointment with someone to allow him to finally have a prescription for him, and he had to admit he was impatient to get there. To finally see clearly would be a huge step forward, allowing him to no longer be taken by surprise by his "enemies" at school… or others, like Emma who suddenly pulled him away from dolls.

The latter wondered how wizards could leave dolls clearly inspired by horror films within the reach of children… before noticing the half-incredulous half-contemptuous look, and realizing that there was a good chance that it was in fact the reverse. Still, she guided the kids to another section of the store, the plushies, and she watched Harry's eyes light up in fascination when he saw the animated toys roaming the area. The mother, for her part, found herself staring at the costumes nearby with fascination. In addition to the princess and knight costumes she expected, there were also viking costumes… and even what look to be Merlin. Amused, she approached the suit, grabbing the card next to it, and outlining what the staff could do, probably to reassure parents. Emma giggled as she read the spell list. They were obviously designed to be harmless, little more than changing the color of something, sending out colorful sparks or glowing softly in the dark, and, if they could levitate something, a plate or a pocket book was the most it could lift.

Distracted by her reading, she paid no attention to the brief discussion between Harry and Hermione, until the boy's surprised exclamation made her turn around. The latter was staring at a plush toy lying on a shelf a little further, which lazily looked at the children who came and went in the shop. Most adults seemed to carefully avoid the cuddly toy, which furiously reminded a Ron draped over one of the armchairs in the common room for the two children. The plushy's tail tip, which looked very much like a lion or a reddish cougar, with a kind of little mane a little darker on the head, moved lazily as he looked at the children. The plushy's blue eyes fixed themself on the approaching teen, straightening up and looking at her attentively, head tilted to the side.

Before turning his head abruptly, his eyes narrowing, to stare at a kid who reminded Harry of Dudley a lot. The same spoiled rotten side, and who expected everything to be offered to him simply because he demanded it. The boy hadn't even paid attention to what was around him, his gaze fixed on the plushy. His parents, and, strangely, the seller, tried to dissuade him from taking it, calling the stuffed toy… Hellspawn?, making Emma snicker, telling him that this wasn't a toy he wanted. The kid insisted that he wanted this plushy, not another, making Harry and the others roll their eyes. Especially when the stuffed toy snarled towards the kid, threateningly showing its plush fangs, the sound very much like that of a big cat like the cougar. It wasn't enough to stop the kid in question, however… but the fireball that appeared above the toy's head did. Especially when it used its tail as a baseball bat, sending a fireball at the kid, who shrieked, clearly terrified.

Emma was about to panic… before seeing the seller's tired facepalm, who seemed more annoyed than really worried. She then realized that the fire wasn't burning the kid, because there was no smoke or smell of burnt flesh… meaning that the fire was clearly an illusion. And therefore harmless. The tip of the plush's tail was enveloped in flames however, making Hermione blink, and have a strange feeling of deja-vu, even if she wouldn't have been able to say why she felt that way. Her mother shook her head with a certain weariness, watching the boy take refuge against his parents, trembling in fear once the illusion of fire had dissipated, his father waving his wand while muttering a spell. Probably to clean his son's clothes she said to herself, suspecting that he had probably pissed himself in fear.

"It looked like Ron sending a curse at Malfoy," Harry whispered softly towards Hermione.

"And who succeeded," replied the latter just as gently.

The plush stood up, looking at the kid imperiously, before stretching lazily and jumping to the ground, advancing with dignity towards Hermione, with a kind of thrilling preow of welcome. His half-closed eyes and the tip of his erect tail moving gently reminded Emma of the behavior of real cats, who remembered that this was how they welcomed those they loved. More closely, she assessed the size of the plushy more or less that of a big Main Coon, one of the largest breeds of cats that existed. The stuffed toy rubbed against Hermione's legs, purring like an engine, surprising her and the sellers present.

It was the first time they had seen the shop mascot behave like this, even with the children he liked the most, he had never accepted more than a few petting. The worst was Albus Dumbledore, however, according to the store's records. The plush had literally attacked him the minute he spotted him, or almost. Bombarding him with illusory fireballs in every which way, yowling in rage, chasing him to the entrance of the store, snarling in his direction every time he tried to enter. Completely ignoring the rest of his family. And it was the only time in the store's history that the plush had behaved like this. He had certainly chased its share of thieves and/or thugs since he came here… but never had he reacted as violently as with Dumbledore. But to see him behave like that with someone who was clearly a Muggleborn? No, they had never seen that. At most he had greeted the employees of the shop with a kind meow, or the regulars and their children. And had never let himself be lifted by anyone, just accepting the youngest children's petting.

The store owner, alerted to Hellspawn's unusual behavior, quickly approached the Grangers and Harry, watching the scene in disbelief. The stuffed toy that had refused until then to be bought by anyone, always finding a way to return to the store in the days that followed… no matter how much his new owners wrapped him in spells to prevent him from leaving. His family therefore resigned themselves to keeping the plushy, warning potential buyers that it never stayed long where it ended up. But now… he was letting himself be carried by the teenager, purring peacefully in her arms. And the latter almost crooning towards the plushy, making her mother and the boy who accompanied them snickers.

"You're a handsome pyro cat aint you? Yes you are."

The wizard cleared his throat, drawing attention to him, visibly surprising the girl, who blushed in embarrassment, Hellspawn glaring at him, his tail slashing as if to warn him.

"Miss, what did you do to Hellspawn?"

Hermione looked at him with wide, surprised eyes, an air of incomprehension on her face.

"Nothing?!" She let out in a shocked tone. "It's the first time I've been here!"

The owner chuckled, slightly amused.

"Still, he looks particularly smitten with you, Miss."

Hermione blushed even more, before startling as the plush let out a warning growl towards the man, who raised his hands in the air in surrender.

"Well, since he seems to particularly like you, you can take him, miss. Just… don't be surprised that he decides to disappear without warning. He's always done this so far."

He then turned around to go back to the back room, missing the confused looks of the family and other customers who had witnessed the scene. Harry approached the plushy with curiosity, looking at it with fascination. The latter returned his gaze, fixing him calmly.

"He has the same freckles as Ron," the boy remarked gently. "And the same temper when in a bad mood. Shall we call him Ron?"

Hermione chuckled in response.

"No, it won't be good. Why not… Ronesis?"

"Why Ronesis?" Harry asked curiously, reaching out to pet the plushy.

He timidly ran his fingers through the kind of mane Ronesis had, noting that the fur was very soft, like hair. The plushy let him do it, half closing his eyes like a real cat, purring softly. Harry then noticed a kind of tribal mark in the shape of a wing on his left shoulder, the kind of jet black tattoo visible on the red fur… which was also the same color as his best friend's hair. Hermione spoke again, drawing his attention, and he looked up in time to catch her slightly confused expression.

"Because it suits him?" She said softly, her tone hesitant. "And then… with two Ron, it would be confusing, right? Even if he really looks like Ron, don't you think?"

Harry nodded in response, looking curiously at the plushy. Emma got the impression that there was another reason her daughter was saying that, but she couldn't figure out exactly why. Gently, she caught the children's attention, asking Harry if he saw anything that interested him. The latter hesitated, looking shyly at the snowballs on a shelf, but said nothing, obviously not daring to ask for something for himself. The black-clad arm passing over his head made them startle in surprise, and they turned in the same direction, ready to apologize for the fact that they were blocking this person… before blinking in surprise seeing that it was Sephiroth, who was looking at Harry with an amused and warm look. Bringing his arm towards down, he showed the globe he had taken to the boy. In the latter was a reproduction of Hogwarts, the snow falling perpetually on the castle, giving it an even more magical atmosphere than usual.

"If you want something, Harry, you have only to ask," he said kindly, giving the globe to the boy, who thanked him softly, embarrassed. "As long as your requests are reasonable and you space them enough, I will certainly not refuse them, nor Emma I think. And beside… I think I can say that Hogwarts… was more your home than that place, right?" He added in a comforting tone.

Harry nodded shyly, embarrassed, but also happy, somewhere, to receive gifts. His leg was practically healed now, Sephiroth having removed the bandages for good that morning, and the stitches had been removed the day before. His arm, on the other hand, would stay in the cast for another month 'n a half or so. The silverette was relieved to find the family, he needed their presence to anchor himself in the present, and to avoid going to… "take care" of the Dursleys or Dumbledore. However, he blinked when he saw the plushy in Hermione's arms, surprised. Both the beast's color and its eyes reminded him of Genesis… not to mention the wing-shaped mark on its shoulder. And let's not talk about its borderline arrogant expression, he said to himself, accompanying the family towards the casher, rolling his eyes. He wouldn't be surprised to see it throw fireballs everywhere.

Sephiroth being more focused on Harry and Hermione, he didn't see the shocked and incredulous expressions of the wizards they came across, the latter gazing in bewilderment at the plush toy which was obediently being carried by the Muggleborn, even rubbing its head against hers, purring like an engine. Strong enough to be heard several yards away, drawing the wizards' attention to the small group. Fortunately, none of them realized that the people accompanying the one who was known to be a close friend of the Boy-Who-Lived were exactly him and his famous protector. Harry's lack of glasses and the cap did wonders pass incognito, noticed Sephiroth, who kept an eye on their surroundings just in case. Emma had refused to tell them where she wanted to take them next, insisting it was a surprise, to Sephiroth's amusement and the boy's embarrassment.

Leaving the Leaky Cauldron, they headed for the nearest underground station, Emma having taken the lead, to Sephiroth's amusement. He knew, however, that she knew the city much better than they did, and anyway, he would take them home via teleportation. Even though the store wasn't that far away, she preferred to not push Harry too much. The latter was lost in thought, reflecting on what Sephiroth had said to his aunt when he had rescued him.

They came out of the underground when the boy managed to muster the courage to ask a question to the silverette. The latter had gently encouraged him to ask questions when he was curious, never blaming him for asking about something, unlike the Dursleys, and explaining things as best he could each time.

"Seph?" Harry asked shyly, looking at his protector hesitantly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," replied the latter gently, looking at him.

They had almost arrived at the store, but paused at the question, aware that the boy was struggling to assert himself, and was having trouble with the crowds. So they respected his desire for discretion, trying to help him take insurance.

"When you said… to Petunia… that you would have found it difficult to break the Blood Ward on their house… was that true?" Asked the teen hesitantly.

The ex-General paused, surprised. He honestly hadn't expected Harry to remember this, but he wasn't going to lie or dodge the question either.

"Not really, no," he replied gently. "If I said that… it was above all to make her understand how badly she had mistreated you. I didn't lie when I said they were about to fall, but… you know how powerful I am, magically speaking, right?"

Harry nodded shyly in response, even though he couldn't quite see where his protector/big brother was coming from. He never gave him the impression that his questions were stupid or unwelcome, or that he should already have known what he was asking, explaining his answers if he saw that he didn't understand. Continuing, he brought his protege's attention back to him, the latter listening to him with fascinated curiosity.

"To give you an idea, if a modern wizard wanted to use the Black Materia, it would take at least three people of the level of average Pureblood joining forces if they wanted to do so much as activate it."

"But you did it alone, right?" Hermione asked curiously, a part of her mind shocked at the power needed to activate it.

The silverette nodded in response to her, his gaze passing briefly over the plush toy in Hermione's arms. Ronesis had stopped moving when they had gone to the Muggle side, playing the role of a simple plushy, amusing the passers-by who saw only the fact that Hermione was cuddling a big cat plushy. She almost worried at first, before realizing that Ronny was still purring in her arms, the sound just too low to be heard unless you were literally in contact with him.

"Yes, but we mustn't forget that the vast majority of today's wizards are weaker than the average Muggle-born. You could probably do it alone, Hermione, as an adult… but you would almost certainly be on the verge of fatal magical exhaustion."

"What about the Wards?" Emma asked, sitting on a nearby bench, imitated by the others.

"Just think about it a little," said Sephiroth kindly. "What does the fact that they were about to collapse tell you? And the fact that if she hadn't mistreated you means, Harry?"

Sephiroth often did this, the boy had noticed. He gave him the facts, and the direction, but rarely the complete answers, unless he really couldn't find the answer. And he had gently explained to Hermione that systematically raising her hand to give the answer handicapped the other students. If she gave the answer before they had time to think… and therefore to be congratulated for their answer… they didn't learn the lesson as well as when they had had time to do the thinking for themselves. Hermione had promised to try to give less answers next year, and the silverette assured her that he was asking for nothing more. Finally, Harry shyly spoke again, offering a hesitant answer.

"Even if the Wards had been at the height of their power… you could have destroyed them, right? But if that had been the case… then does that mean… that Petunia would have treated me correctly?" He asked hesitantly.

Sephiroth smiled gently at him in response, some pride even appearing there, and Harry relaxed as he realized he had guessed right. Although he had never blamed a wrong answer, simply offering another way of thinking or other evidence if he was blocked, the boy just liked to respond right the first time to his protector.

"Even at the height of their power, the Blood Wards wouldn't have been a challenge for me," he confirmed. "At most a minor inconvenience, which might have taken me a minute or two to dismantle. But if Petunia had treated you correctly… would you have called to me for help in the Chamber of Secrets?" The silverette asked kindly.

Harry didn't have to think long to find the answer to the question.

"No," he admitted softly. "If she had treated me like a family member… I wouldn't have been desperate enough… to call to you for help."

Sephiroth gently ruffled his hair, causing Harry to protest without much conviction. It reminded him of Vernon with Dudley, even if he hadn't been entirely sure it had been justified… anyway, other than in their somewhat sick minds. With the silverette… he felt, in a way, that it was honest. And sincere. Sephiroth rarely told him that he was proud of him… but the boy cherished each of these occasions because he could see that he was sincere. Harry also couldn't help but seek contact with his protector. Feeling safe whenever he touched him, or letting him hug him when he was scared. And he had never blamed him, just comforting or reassuring him until he felt better.

Emma watched their interactions with an indulgent, amused smile, feeling some relief. Harry… was starting to heal, it seemed to her. Step by step, he was progressing, becoming less shy, more curious, and daring to express himself. And the way he sought contact with Sephiroth, after the abuse he had suffered… was also encouraging. Because it meant that he felt confident enough with the silverette to seek contact. And the latter, despite the fact that it was clear that he wasn't particularly comfortable with physical contact, let him do so without hesitation. Probably giving the comfort he would have liked to have been offered to himself at the same age, she guessed. She suspected somewhere that it was thanks to his friends and their lover that he had been able to learn the right gestures to comfort someone.

After a few minutes, she gently pushed them to get up to continue, pulling Harry from his thoughts. Imperial Rooms was just around the corner, and she couldn't wait to find something for the two boys, they both desperately needed it. Harry… because of the nightmares he still had about his "family", and which Emma had sometimes heard when she got up at night because she was thirsty, listening to Sephiroth gently reassuring the teen until he went back to sleep.

Same for the silverette… she had also found him to be awake at night… but clearly not for the same reasons as his protégé. He was also much more discreet than Harry, and it was only because he usually left the door open that she had noticed it. Emma didn't know the exact reason, and had never commented on it. She had several theories in mind to explain this habit, such as the fact that it might remind him too much of the labs, but she wasn't sure. And unless he talked about it… she wouldn't comment on it. It was up to him to approach her if he ever decided. However… she could see that he often seemed on guard, as if he feared an attack, often appearing half asleep. In any case, enough to not really react when she walked in front of the door… even if she suspected that if she ever tried to enter when he was in this state, it would be hazardous to her health at best. Other times… she had watched him staring at objects in his hands with an expression of pure sorrow. Each time… she had noticed a small box on his lap, from which he took the objects in question. It had taken her several nights to be sure that she had seen them all, because he didn't always take them out in the same order. There were two feathers, one snow white and the other jet black, something she supposed to be an earring, and two necklaces with pendants. One… was apparently a small stone, about the size of her thumb or a little smaller, hanging on a leather strap, and the other was a silver pendant, the shape of which reminded her of an elongated apple, not round. She had seen it when Sephiroth put it back in the box, the pendant rotating on its chain, also silver, and allowing her to distinguish its shape.

Emma had never raised the subject with him, however. His expression… showed that these objects were certainly the only memories he had of his friends and their partner. She had also surprised him once with what looked like a photograph in his hands, and wondered if he had one from their friend. Maybe not even, she said to herself as she pushed open the door to the shop, politely greeting the cashiers. A look behind her made her restrain a snicker at the confused expression of Sephiroth and Harry, the latter not understanding why they were there. Hermione had always hated pink, unlike the majority of little girls, and preferred tones ranging more in dark reds, white or black (without being Gothic), and certain shades of gray very close to silver. The good news was that Harry liked the same hues as well, so he could borrow Hermione's sheets for his bed. Sephiroth used the same sheets as theirs, since Nathan had given him the air mattress they used when they went camping, before Hermione was born. After… they just had no time for several years, even though her husband had regularly checked that the air mattresses were in good condition. Even today, they rarely went camping, Hermione hated it, saying that she couldn't read in the tent.

Emma immediately headed for the department with the weighted blankets, followed by the others, Harry and Sephiroth clearly confused as to why they were in this store. She suspected that Harry would be embarrassed to receive another gift, so soon after the Hogwarts snow globe, carefully hidden in Hermione's bag. But she had a good reason for that, and not just to make him happy, even if it was the main one.

The dentist had spoken with one of her colleagues specializing in abused children about Harry's case, and even Sephiroth, without going into details. It was this colleague who suggested the blankets in question, explaining that it could certainly help them. He said they were generally used by people with autism but abused and rescued children or those suffering from post-traumatic stress also appreciated them for the sense of security they offered. And their two companions badly needed it, she thought. Besides… she knew that Harry hadn't received any gifts from the Dursleys before arriving at Hogwarts, and even then it was more to be mean than anything. The Weasleys were the first to offer him gifts, as were Hagrid and Hermione. She should also find something to offer him for his birthday, she thought thoughtfully, starting to plan something. She'd have to ask Sephiroth for his birthday too, the mother thought as she started to examine the covers, looking for something they might like.

oOo

Hermione had looked at Sephiroth with amusement, noticing his confusion at the blankets, especially when he had spotted the little card calling them "magic blankets". When he gently asked Emma, explaining that he saw no magic on the blankets, she explained that it was more of an expression than anything else. Before teasing him saying that there was no need for magic to make something magical. The proof was with the starry sky, right? This one had its own magic, even if today it became difficult to be able to admire it, because of the light pollution. Hermione had seen how the former General expression almost glowed with understanding, even if it didn't change that much. It was more… in the way his eyes widened, and the way his mouth opened slightly. However, you had to know him well to see it, said the teen to herself, unaware that, for the other customers of the shop, Sephiroth's expression hadn't changed at all. It was more her intuition that had let her know.

She watched her mother search the blankets, obviously trying to find the right one, in a way, for Harry or Sephiroth. Finally, she saw her stop on a black one, on which was a galaxy of stars in blue tones. Emma nodded with satisfaction, folding the blanket before giving it to a surprised Harry with a maternal smile.

"Emma?" He asked shyly, hesitant.

"A little gift, Harry. You remember I told you there was no need for a reason to give you gifts, right?" Emma asked gently, making him hesitantly nod. "But if you really want a reason… let's say it's to thank you for being Hermione's first true friend. And always have defended her against others."

Harry blushed at the congratulations, embarrassed.

"Hermione also defended me," he replied softly. "When the others said that I was the heir of Salazar Slytherin and that it was I who attacked the other students… she was the only one who refused to believe that."

Emma nodded.

"Yes, she told me about it. And also that the real culprit was Riddle, right?"

Sephiroth nodded in response, wrapping his arm around Harry to gently pull him out of the way, letting an elderly lady pass by, who thanked them with a nod.

"You also know that Harry would be the true heir to Salazar, right?" He asked, being careful not to raise his voice.

Emma nodded.

"Yes, Hermione told me everything in her letters. That's why you wanted to do an inheritance test, right?" She asked, turning back to the blankets, to the others' confusion.

"The results turned out to be at least… interesting," admitted Sephiroth in a low voice, watching Emma look with curiosity. "I'll tell you everything when we get back, however, because I think Nathan will certainly want to know more about it."

The mother absently nodded, pulling out another blanket.

"Yes, Nathan was also curious to know more on the subject… Aha!" She suddenly exclaimed, unfolding the blanket right next to the one she had taken. "Yes, that one will be perfect," she whispered with satisfaction.

Sephiroth looked at the blanket with curiosity and amusement. It was quite pale blue in color, with darker patterns on the outline, the center comprising patterns of sand and bubbles, with five black and white turtles that almost seemed to follow each other, as if they were a school of fish, making him smile. The blanket had a pretty cute side that he liked, even if he wondered if Emma wasn't doing too much with Harry. One blanket was enough, right? He was particularly surprised, therefore, when the mother turned to him and put it in his arms with a smile.

"Emma?" He asked, quite surprised, making her smile more. "Why…"

"I never said it was just a surprise for Harry," she replied kindly. "You too are entitled to gifts. Judging by your reaction… you haven't had many in your life, have you?" She asked in a soft voice.

Sephiroth shook his head in response, unconsciously hugging the blanket in his arms, a veritable storm of emotion swirling in him. There was shock, of course, at the fact that someone had offered him something, when they hadn't known each other for a very long time. Surprise too, because he had to honestly admit that he hadn't expected such a gesture.

Angeal and Genesis… as well as Zack… had certainly given him gifts, but it had been very rare. Zack, after seeing the quantities of coffee he ingested… regularly bought him new packages, surprising him with the care he took in choosing different flavors regularly, and asking him if he liked the last one. Never giving twice a coffee that he didn't like. Angeal… had given him a lucky bamboo, a plant perfectly suited to his tastes because it required almost no maintenance, just a little water regularly, and which was supposed to bring good luck. The gesture had really touched him at the time, especially because his friend had taken the time to look for something that would please him while remaining in the field of plants, but also slipping into the Wutai culture that had always fascinated him. Genesis… had done something similar in a way, by offering him hair pins, with the Loveless motif. The silverette sometimes wondered if it hadn't been a joke on the redhead part, knowing that he had never tied his hair in his life. And even less in a style that could have needed this kind of accessories. Despite everything, he had carefully preserved them, if only for their meaning and gesture.

He had been touched to see that his friends cared enough to offer him objects that had a chance to please him… while keeping a touch of them, to remind him that he wasn't alone. In any case… that was what he deduced from it. Because even if they denied it had anything to do with it… those gifts were made after his worst sessions with Hojo. Sephiroth wasn't ashamed to have discreetly searched on the company's network (using an alias and another computer than his) for the reason why people were giving gifts, this cultural point making him confused, despite his observations of people. He hadn't really been more advanced after that... but he had at least understood that, if people gave gifts to friends... it was to show the bond that united them. Or something like that. In thanks to his only friends... he had given them a gift too.

Genesis… had ended up on a mission that had lasted longer than expected, just when a new edition of Loveless was due to be released. He remembered his friend's anger on the phone, angry that he was going to miss the sale. Sephiroth… hadn't hesitated to call the store, shocking the owner to a dumbfounded silence when he learned that the Scarlet Commander's rival was calling to reserve one of the books, promising to pay triple the price of the volume if he asked, to reserve one and have it delivered to the Shinra Tower for his friend. The man may not have been one of his fans, but the mere fact that the Icy General was ready to spend so much money on a book had made him ask no questions and accept. Genesis' face when he discovered the book on his desk upon his return had been worth its weight in gil, especially when Sephiroth had revealed how it got there. The redhead had even stopped provoking him for six wonderful months after that, so much the shock and recognition had shaken him.

Angeal had been both simpler and more complicated. Ultimately, Sephiroth had settled on the seeds of a rare plant, the Zuuberry, which was notoriously difficult to grow. But since Geal managed to grow plants in the apartment he shared with Genesis… he figured he would be able to with that one. And he'd done it too, much to his surprise. Angeal's Bush had even become a meme, if he remembered the terme correctly, in SOLDIER. Because the plant normally only grew very little in height, having more tendency to spread out on the sides, but with Angeal… it had formed a large round bush, which had gotten close to a meter in diameter at the time of its owner's death. Sephiroth… had done his best to maintain the plants after his desertion… but without his presence, they had withered very quickly, much to his chagrin. Except for the one he had given him, which had resisted until the moment he himself had finally died.

But Emma's gift… touched him deeply, almost as much as the ones his friends had given him. Because he honestly didn't expect her to give him anything even though they had only known each other. Part of him almost wanted to protest at her generosity… but as she had told Harry, she was doing it because she wanted to do it, and he deserved it. Thanking her softly, he followed her to the cash register, accompanied by Harry, watching the mother pay for the blankets, promising to buy her something later in return, to thank her.

Taking the underground again, they headed for the nearest shopping center, to get the food they needed. Sephiroth somewhere regretted that his needs were so high… but he dared not cut back. As much because of the dangers that continued to hang over Harry as the fact that he instinctively loathed getting himself into any state of weakness, whatever it was. And even though Emma said they could afford the expense… he was still somehow relieved that they could participate in it. Although he still wished he had his own money… the Shinra Company had disappeared from the face of the planet a long time ago… and his bank account with it. Emma laughed when he told her about it with some amusement, finding the image hilarious without being able to help it, as did the children, who snickered without being able to help themselves.

They continued to joke about the matter as they left the store, again finding an inconspicuous alleyway to miniaturize the shopping thanks to Mini, Sephiroth promising Emma to give him the Materia once she produced a new one. With his power… he could easily level up a new Materia, even if Zack had been the worst. His almost infinite energy translated into a rise in levels of his Materias, and all with an ease that had had him being nicknamed "The Human Battery" by some SOLDIERS apparently. However… thinking of Zack reminded him of the Buster Sword he'd seen in that pawnshop storefront. Almost making him want to go back there to learn about the sword. The silverette decided to give up going there for the time being, however. Until he was sure that Dumbledore was still ignorant of what was going on with Harry… he wouldn't go anywhere without the boy, to make sure no one was harming him.

To be continued…

Sephiroth is really, really angry with Dumbledore and the Dursleys… but he's biding his time to deal with Dumbledore, knowing that the adult Dursleys will have to do with their fellow inmates *sadistic laughter*. Vernon, in any case, will not get out of prison alive. Petunia ... is more likely to get away with this, primarily because she will keep a low profile.