Harry Potter and The Heart of a Rat

by Kikkuli

There are many things Harry Potter shouldn't do while ridiculously drunk or high: listening to his equally wasted friend's 'brilliant ideas' is one. Hello past, hello future! Never fear, Wizarding World: Peter Pettigrew, Gilderoy Lockhart and Dolores Umbridge have come to save you! Er, yay? [Mostly HP, some Naruto, Ranma, Twilight, NGE] HP/Multi, R/H, SB/NB Time/dimensional travel

26. 24 Nattering with Nazgul

Author's Note:

This is a continuation/soft reboot of the time travel tale "Hair of the Grim" by Nightmare Sired Muse, with a bunch of changes. It also contains many concepts, lines and situations from the grab-bag that is "Odd Ideas" by Rorschach's Blot. Both are used with the permission of their original authors. The Harry Potter series belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I do not own Harry Potter or anything else.

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Rated M for some violence, language, drug use and sexual references. Nothing explicit.

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Canon-compliant. HP&DH compliant (except the Epilogue). HP&CC compliant (except the conclusion). FB&WTFT compliant. Pottermore compliant (mostly).

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Recommended Fanfiction of the Week: "Harry Potter and the Rune Stone Path" by Temporal Knight.

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Question of the Week: If The Lord of the Rings series was intended by Tolkien as a fictional ancient history of Britain, how did he explain the continents shifting around so much within the last several thousand years?

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Chapter 24 – Nattering with Nazgûl

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If my love must be a rodent, then shall I be anything but a rat?

– Lynne Jonell

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Ron eyed Harry suspiciously. "Okay mate, what have you done this time?" he sighed in exasperation. The other Marauders perked up in keen interest at this latest development in the Peter Pettigrew soap opera.

"Uh, I may have just gotten mphrglemnsts …"

"What was that?"

"I … may have acted recklessly again …"

"Oh?" Ron said with faux bonhomie. "Do tell."

"Well, I mean … I figured I'd already done it once … or thrice … before. So what was one more? You know, in for a knut, in for a galleon …"

"As fun as it is watching you squirm, Wormtail," Sirius said mirthfully, "perhaps you'd better tear the band-aid off in one go, and just spill. We're all gonna find out one way or another."

"I … may have just gotten married again," Harry said in a small voice.

"Of course you did," Ron rolled his eyes so hard it was incredible they didn't tumble out of his skull. They certainly gave Mad-Eye's magical mad eye a run for its money.

"Dammit Wormy, not another one!" James exploded. "How many women are you planning on hoovering up!? Was snatching my woman not enough?! Who was it this time, Alice McKinnon?!"

"Uh, Xiomara Zabini …"

"The gorgeous Italian Durmstranger? We are not worthy! We are not worthy! I take back everything snarky I ever said about your prowess, O Grand Gerbil of Greatness – please please teach your faithful disciple Padfoot your secrets; I deserve a harem too, don't I?"

Remus sighed and began to leaf through the signed betrothal contract. He sure seemed to be seeing a lot of them lately.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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EXPLOSION IN DEPT OF MYSTERIES! TRAITOR UNSPEAKABLE TO BLAME!

Secret Sources Suggest That The Source of The Mysterious Series of Explosions That Shook The Department of Mysteries Was The Work of Sabotage! All Evidence Points to Unspeakeable-Turned-Death Eater Augustus Rookwood! What Other Acts of Terror is This Saboteur Responsible For?

By Rita Skeeter and Phât Phúc

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"Merry Christmas! I know it's a bit late in the season, so maybe it's better to think of it as a Happy Hanami festival instead, given where you're heading to."

"What are these?" Harry asked, poking at the pile of metal studs Hermione had poured out onto the table.

"Enchanted studs. If you look closely you can see the runes inscribed on them."

"My animagus form is a rat, not an eagle, my friend."

"Then you'll just have to take my word for it, won't you?"

He laughed. "Don't I always?"

"Just as long as you don't start nibbling on them, Mr Rat Animagus. These are special ear studs, especially enchanted by the DoM to assist the user to understand a foreign language as if they were hearing their mother tongue. And these are special tongue studs, enchanted by the DoM to assist the user to speak a foreign language as if they were speaking their own tongue."

"Wow!" breathed Harry, mightily impressed. "Those are extremely useful artefacts! You're telling me that the Unspeakables have invented a universal translator? This is epic!"

"No, of course not! The difficulties of trying to engineer that idea are far too steep and numerous to ever be worth bothering with," she lectured him. Harry felt like he was back in his first year classes again. "There's only so many runic arrays you can fit onto a tiny piece of metal. These ones were only possible because the pieces were originally crafted as 20-pound hollow dumbells, inscribed, enchanted and then shrunk down to the size you see here. But there's a limit to how much you can shrink something, as I'm sure you know, since I'm certain you never drifted off during Charms Class?"

"Of course not, you know me," Harry laughed nervously.

"In answer to your question," Hermione continued, with a long-suffering air, "these only work with a single language – Japanese. If you encounter other languages, then you're out of luck, and will just have to make do with the ol' 'gesticulating wildly and talking at each other in increasingly loud voices while hoping not to start a war or instigate an international incident' technique."

"Will do; I'm an expert at that!"

"I'm sure."

"What about reading and writing?"

"You're out of luck there too; you're going to have to learn those the old-fashioned way."

"You're telling me the DoM can make artefacts that automatically translate speech and hearing into English, but can't do the same with reading and writing?!"

"The translator studs are not 'translating' anything into English. Rather, they act as a magical interface, assisting your brain to interpret and understand the meaning and intent behind the sounds it receives through your ears, and conversely, the intent and meaning of your desired communication into the correct sounds to carry that message via your tongue. Do you understand?"

"I sure don't!" he replied cheerily.

She rolled her eyes. "The point is, if you want to be able to read, you'd need to get some translator studs shoved into your eyes, and to be able to write, get some translator studs stabbed into each of your fingers. Though," she mused thoughtfully, "I could always have the Unspeakables whip up a special order just for you …"

"Ah no, that's fine, Hermione, I'm perfectly happy with hearing and speaking, in fact that's much more than I'd ever hoped for anyway, so thanks!" Harry said hastily.

"Well, if you're sure …" she said slowly.

"But, ahem, moving onto more pressing matters – how come we don't use these for learning Latin, and Ancient Runes, and spells in general? These things could speed up the process by years even! Why are we even sending students to Hogwarts in the first place?"

"Magic doesn't work that way, Harry, sheesh! How can you be a 20-year old Hogwarts graduate and not know anything about magical theory?"

"Lots of practice," he retorted cheekily.

"The point is, yes sure you could pick up Latin and learn the futhark and all that with translator studs, but if magic could simply be learned by rote, anyone with a magical core could teach themselves with a book of Latin grammar and a list of wand movements. Even Argus Flich! But magic is more than words and wand-waving, as you well know, Mr Wandless Magic Master."

"Being able to do a simple stunners, finites and summoning spells wandlessly hardly makes me a master of the Wandless Arts, Hermione," he said dryly.

"It's more than I can do. As you should know very well, magic is a function of will and experience in manifesting that will through manipulating your magical core, and then (usually) channelling that power through your wand. That's why it's possible to perform spells silently, point-cast without moving a wand at all, and use wandless magic. You have to immerse yourself in it – be able to feel the magic flow through you, and understand what those feelings mean. And that can only be acquired through practice. Lots and lots of practice. These studs are completely useless in that regard. So I'm sorry to say, your miracle magic-learning shortcut that would get you out of actually studying, is non-existent."

"Frell. You don't sound sorry at all, you darn swot," he accused.

"See how vigorously I don't care. Even if your magical-mystery-wonder-solution actually worked, what would happen if you ever lost your studs, or someone stole them from you, ever think of that? You'd be utterly helpless because you'd never bothered to actually learn and understand how perform magic, i.e., how to be a wizard! Could there be anything more pathetic than that?"

"Alright, alright, you've made your point already! Can I put these things in now?"

"Proceed," Hermione intoned magnanimously.

"OW!" Harry flinched as a sharp pain shot through his earlobe. The stud had shot out a thin spike of metal that pierced his lobe, locking itself firmly into place in the tender flesh of his ear. "I thought they had Sticking Charms! You didn't say they actually clamped into your skin!"

"They don't – at least, not if you have pierced ears," she retorted smugly.

"What did I ever do to you, Hermione?" he whined in a shockingly unmanly manner.

"Oh, you mean besides ripping me from my nice warm bed and dumping me into the hideous body of a blood purist monster?"

"Shutting up now."

"Such a well-trained, housebroken boy," his friend purred. "If only your fellow Stooge would take to his training so assiduously. Well, chop chop! Put the other two in, time and tide wait for no-one. At least, not without a time turner, and you're not getting them until you make with the jewellery."

"Ouch! I'm really not going to like this last one, am I?" Harry asked, looking at the tongue-stud with dread.

"Only one way to find out," she said wisely.

"Ow! Owowow! Dat un 'as da 'urst o' all!"

"Stop your bellyaching; men, no pain tolerance whatsoever," the woman sniffed disdainfully. "And now to test them." She walked over to the side-table. Harry's Victor V phonograph that he'd purchased from Jacob in Diagon, stood there, ready and eager to make itself useful. "Here we go: 'Nipponese for Non-Native Neophytes'." She extracted the record and loaded it on the phonograph. "Now, listen and see if you can understand what it's saying."

"Greetings intrepid voyager, and welcome to Part One of 'Nipponese for Non-Native Neophytes'," came a tinny, scratchy voice that sounded remarkably similar to an even-older Bathilda Bagshot or Grizabela Marchbanks. "So you've decided to tour the world and for some bizarre reason are visiting a continent filled with those sandal-wearing goldfish tenders – why you would ever bother with that though is beyond me. I would have thought you'd want to do something productive with your life, but what do I know?"

"This is … much more racist than I expected," Hermione commented.

Harry shrugged. "This is the 1970's. And we do live in an insular, chauvinist magical community. And aren't you the one who's always going on about how Magical British society is stuck in the Georgian Era? I'm surprised that this message isn't doing a Walburga Black and simply railing at us for being traitors to our nation or some such silliness."

"Point."

"So now you're stuck in a barbarian land and you're in dire straits – forced to actually talk to foreigners. Why can't those wogs learn the Queen's English, by Merlin? Ahem, but until that glorious, shining day, you will have to make do with memorising the following," the voice continued, unperturbed by Hermione's chagrin. The speaker began to rattle of words in a different language.

"So? Can you understand what she's saying?"

"I believe …" Harry frowned in concentration, "that she's giving us the recipe for chicken soup … and now she's describing her holiday at Brighton Beach … now she's reading passages from some book about a guy called Benjy, and adding her own commentary every few lines … about how the protagonist's a complete pervert and degenerate, but what can you expect from such people …"

Hermione switched off the machine with a decisive snap. Then carefully removed the record and gingerly carried the fragile shellac disc back to her desk.

"Well at least we know the studs work …" Harry began.

Hermione raised her arm up straight up, then swung it down suddenly, smashing the record into tiny fragments against the edge of her desk. Harry jumped, startled by the sudden, violent action from his generally-even-tempered friend.

"These studs are amazing, many thanks, Q!" Harry gushed, pretending he'd not just witnessed that. "Those Unspeakables are geniuses! Why doesn't every witch and wizard have a set of these?!"

"Probably because of the enormous expense, Mr Potter, H. James Potter; do you have any idea how difficult it is to enchant these studs? Besides, why would they bother? Most purebloods grow up speaking Latin, French and German, the languages of their most important neighbours, and of their common magical cultural heritage. What more could they possibly need," she added sardonically. "And when they holiday abroad, they just hire local translators, porters, guides and so forth. So only diplomatic personnel from the Department of International Magical Cooperation (DIMC) ever need the translator studs. When they actually feel like going abroad and representing our country's interests, that is."

"If they're so hard-to-make and expensive, then how did you get ahold of so many of them?" Harry wondered. "If the DIMC don't care about Japan in the slightest, then they must be pretty rare too."

"I merely ordered the DoM to whip up a fresh batch for my exclusive use."

"What!? How?!"

"Didn't you hear?" Hermione blinked innocently. "I've recently been promoted. It was in the Ministry Gazette and everything last week. Sadly, the society papers were more concerned with wailing about that Yaxley imbecile to pay any attention to real news such as this."

"Eh?"

"You don't need to look so surprised. It was only a matter of time before the Minister noticed my superlative intellect and outstanding organisational skills, and re-allocated me accordingly," she sniffed imperiously.

"To what?"

"You're now looking at the Deputy Director of the DIMC in charge of the Magical Asia desk, and the Deputy Director of the DCRMC in charge of elves and werewolves," she grinned. "And also the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for International Relations, Magical Asia Region, and the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Creature's Rights and Welfare."

His jaw dropped.

"I know!" she crowed, "I managed to beat Dolores to the Senior Undersecretary post by almost 20 years! Eat that, Umbridge, you obtuse hag! Saying I'd never in a million years be so much as a toilet cleaner in the Ministry of Magic."

"You have four jobs now?! I don't know whether to burst in admiration or worry about your health. Mental and physical."

"The Minister felt that, in light of my unrivalled and irreplaceable expertise, I was the only figure in government service well-placed to hold all four important positions simultaneously. Butterbeer?"

Harry nodded dumbly. Hermione opened her drinks cabinet and poured them both large glasses of the frosty beverage. They toasted her success.

"To be honest, being DD-DIMC for MA and the Senior Secretary for MA don't involve doing any actual work, since the British and the 22 Magical Asian governments have nothing to say or do with each other. But being the special rapporteur, envoy and monitor for the region means I can keep my ear to the ground for any useful information while you're over there, hold the fort on this end, maybe even rustle up some diplomatic help for you if you lot get yourselves into trouble. Do try to avoid that, won't you? Oh, who am I kidding, of course you're going to get into trouble; with everyone, no doubt! But other than that, I can just kick back and let the paychecks roll in for sitting on my pert derrière."

"Just like every Ministry employee ever, I'm sure."

"Naturally," she replied, a tad impatiently, "but those other mindless drones lack the wit and ingenuity to be paid four separate paychecks every week for doing only one job."

"Only one?"

"Being DD-DCRMC for elves and werewolves is basically the same thing I've been doing for the past few months, except now I get a fancy new office, staff of lackeys, and have people actually listen to what I'm saying for once."

"What about that second Senior Secretary whatchamacallit?"

"That's just a fancy title for the person who explains to the Minister why the ideas of the DD-DCRMC for elves and werewolves are so brilliant and why she should rubber-stamp the DD-DCRMC's unquestionably correct decisions without further dither," Hermione explained.

Harry blinked skeptically. "And the Minister and the rest of the Ministry bureaucrats are okay with you just rolling over them like that?"

"Why wouldn't they be? After all, I have all the correct paperwork in triplicate, signed in the correct places by Minister Millicent Bagnold herself. Who would dare gainsay me?" She tapped her finger on the stack of 'special' documents that the Minister had so obligingly signed for her the other day, which now sat securely in her warded in-tray. "What, jealous? You think you're the only person who can usurp their way into powerful, plum roles?"

"Certainly not," he said quickly, "I'm just worried about your enemies staging a counter-revolution or something."

"Let me worry about that side of things, you just focus on those hordes of vicious dark wizards and dark creatures massing in that unknown, hostile wilderness. Bagnold's famous for never being able to remember the faces of the DIMC or DCRMC staff. Foreign affairs and creatures regulation have never been high priorities for the Ministry, they don't get you re-elected. Winning this civil war and restoring the economy will, so they're her and the DMLE's whole world for the foreseeable future. I doubt she'd even notice that old Jeremiah Jorkins and Alderton Lufkin have somehow melded into one 20-something woman."

"And what did happen to Jeremiah Jorkins and Alderton Lufkin?"

"It seems the Minister has inadvertently demoted her former Senior Undersecretary to work in the Goblin Liaison office, and her former DD-DCRMC to working the mail-room. Guess that's two less Purist bigots in the upper Ministry hierarchy," she replied innocently. "Now, don't forget to make sure that everyone in your party going abroad has their ear and tongue studs in place. It'll take a few days to get used to them, so the earlier they put them in, the better. I have some other supplies for you, too."

She placed a dozen mokeskin bags onto the table.

"I know you've already got one of these, but it never hurts having spares. Each one contains a time turner, a vial of Veritaserum, a travel-set of healing, nutrient, strength and speed potions, a flask of honeybadger antivenin in case you run into snakes, and a bunch of spare wands, any I could find in Knockturn. Give one to each of your party-members, I don't think I have to tell you to warn them about how dangerous the contents are and how careful they have to be with them, hmmmm? Good. Now here's your pack."

She placed a worn and used-looking bag onto the table.

"Your one is special: the Expanded Space inside is enormous, enough for you all to camp out in if necessary. Hopefully it won't be, there's a half-dozen wizard's tents stored in one of the side-rooms in there. Just remember not to open up an Expanded Space while inside another Expanded Space! That Would Be Bad. I'm serious, Harry – don't do it! I don't want to hear your protests, just don't open them inside the Expanded Space, okay, very bad things will happen!"

"Alright, alright, I get it already! No opening them up, got it! Sheesh, I didn't even say anything!"

"You were thinking it," Hermione replied severely. "I've also stored the remainder of the spare time turners, minus a few for my own personal use, in another side-room. And I came across an old friend of yours at the DMLE, so took the liberty of adding him to your collection."

"Who?"

"Robbie the Robot."

Harry stared for a moment. Then began to laugh. "Oh that's priceless! I can't wait to crank that monster up and turn 'im loose. Be nice to see The Wrecking Ball wrecking someone else's day for a change! Good one, Hermione, you always know how to add that little extra spice!"

"Well, I try," she preened modestly. "I've also included a little something called the Veil of Death." She laughed at his expression. "Yep, stole it straight out from under the noses of the DoM. I understand the Director has been badgering Director Crouch quite mercilessly for its return!"

"And what do you suggest I do with that horrible thing?" he asked, eyeing the bag warily.

"Throw Voldemort into it of course! Along with Grindelwald and Bellatrix and any demons, cursed artefacts and horcruxes you may encounter. Really, Harry, do I have to do all your thinking for you?!"

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"Welcome to my humble abode," Harry said politely, ushering his guests into Malfoy Manor's palatial sitting room.

"I can't believe Umbridge talked me into this," grumbled Andromeda, balancing Nymphadora on her hip. Seeing Andromeda bounce Nym sparked powerful and painful memories of Harry's godson, Teddy Lupin. Who'd now grow up without his godfather. Ted Tonks trotted after her, carrying a muggle baby stroller.

"Don't listen to her, dear boy," Molly Weasley tutted as she followed them in. "It really is extremely generous of you. Are you sure we can't pay something in rent? This really is a beautiful home, I'd feel bad if we weren't contributing anything!"

"Oh but you are, Mrs Weasley," he replied, helping Arthur juggle a large basket of supplies. "I'm going to be out of the country for some time and this place desperately needs someone to stay here to maintain it. More importantly, I don't like the idea of leaving Merope and Tom here in this giant estate all alone."

A squealing three-year old Bilius Weasley shot into the room, chasing one of Umbridge's white kneazles. The horrified creature was momentarily saved from a fate worse than death, as the rambunctious toddler was snagged, mid-leap, by his mother, and forced to endure being trapped on her lap. Molly quelled her squirming son with the ease of long practice. Harry shook his head. It was so weird seeing Molly, Arthur and Bill so young. There was a time he'd seen them as surrogate parents; now they were more like elder siblings. Given time, that is: the Golden Trio would need to work long and hard to rebuild their ties to these people.

"Did you have any trouble finding tenants for your place in Ottery St Catchpole?" he asked Arthur, once the pair had settled.

"Not at all," Mr Weasley waved dismissively. "Amos knew some people who had just immigrated from Canada who were looking for a peaceful, rural setting."

"Thankyou again," gushed Molly. "The extra gold from rent really helps our family more than we can say. Are you sure there's nothing else we can do?"

Harry laughed. "I'm sure. Just make sure everything stays in good condition and that the Gaunts aren't left to brood or mope about, and we'll call it even. How about you, Ted? Everything organised on your end?"

"Oh yes," said Ted cheerfully said. "Amazingly enough, there's a lot of demand to rent heavily warded wizarding houses at the moment. Who would've thought?"

"I would prefer to remain in my own home," Andromeda said stubbornly.

"Ah, but think about how much more secure your family will be here. While strong, your house's wards are nothing compared to those here. During wartime, you really can't be too careful. Besides," he added cheekily, "think of all the work you'll be able to get done here: Dolores will be living here too, along with her protégé Gilderoy Lockhart. And I hear Arthur's a real up-and-comer in the Ministry. Next week, Gideon and Fabian Prewett and their wives also arrive. That's three Wizengamot members and three Ministry officials at least! And I'm sure the Longbottoms, Potters, Diggories, Bones, Abbotts, McKinnons and Delacours will be visiting quite a lot. You could practically get a quorum right here!"

"I knew it!" Andromeda groused. "This is all some elaborate ploy to squeeze more hours of labour out of your retainers!" But she had a mirthful twinkle in her black eyes.

"Really, Lord Malfoy, I think you exaggerate my importance," Arthur said in embarrassment.

"Don't sell yourself short, Arthur," Harry replied. "The Ministry's in desperate need of young guns such as yourself to shake things up, otherwise the fossils who run the place will continue to let everything ossify. And I'm sure with all the governmental heavyweights in one spot, you'll all be able to collaborate and brainstorm and come up with all sorts of great new ideas."

Harry reclined in the master's high-backed chair. "Flipsy! Flopsy!" Two house elves appeared, clad demurely in canary-yellow dresses, daisies behind their ears. Molly clapped her hands in delight at their adorableness. Andromeda rolled her eyes at the exuberant woman.

"Flipsy and Flopsy are the two newest elves bonded to House Malfoy. Dobby found them in the Orkneys of all places," Harry explained. Addressing the elves, he said gently, "This is Arthur, Molly, Andromeda and Ted. While I'm gone, they are in charge of the house and grounds. If you have any questions or needs, talk to them." The two creatures bobbled their heads enthusiastically. "Now, could you please ask Merope if she and Tom could come join us? And then bring us tea and cakes?"

"Yes, master!" they chirped and disappeared.

They chatted amicably for some minutes, until the arrival of the final two guests. Seeing a shadow floating hesitantly in the corner of his eye, Harry rose and gently escorted the uncertain witch to a couch of their own. Merope Gaunt hid shyly behind him as he led her in, a not very effective strategy since even after all his growth potions, she was taller than him by a clear foot. Baby Tom observed the proceedings with a solemn gaze.

"Merope and Tom don't have any other family, so I'm counting on you all to make them feel welcome," he said delicately.

"Milord is too kind," the dark-haired witch whispered.

"Now what did I say about calling me Peter?" he chided teasingly, causing her to flush and look down at the floor.

"Oh you poor dear, you must've been so lonely," sympathised Molly, mothering instincts kicking in something fierce (as Harry had hoped they would). She immediately moved over to sit next to the frail witch and introduced her son. Soon they were chatting quietly amongst themselves, cooing over Tom, and comparing childrearing experiences.

To give them a bit of privacy, Harry re-focused onto the other three inhabitants of the room, who were accepting cups of tea from the elves. "I need to leave now, but Dolores is reachable by Floo if you need something. Our Floo address is 'Malfoy Manor' and the transport password is 'pureblood purity'. Yes, I know, I know, but I haven't had time to change it. Feel free to switch it 'the Dork Lord sucks' or something."

He looked at his watch, and turned back to the two mothers. "My friends Dolores Umbridge and Gilderoy Lockhart will move in this weekend. Gilderoy's still in school, so you'll probably only see him on weekends. Guests from the French magical government likely will be visiting a lot too. You don't need to feel obliged to entertain them or anything; this place is big enough that you can find a quiet spot no matter how many of them are underfoot."

Gathering up his belongings, Harry threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. "I have no idea when I'll be back in Britain. Take care of each other, and stay safe. Voldemort may be out of the picture, but I have a bad feeling that we're in the eye of the storm. Grindelwald is marshalling his forces, and things could get much much worse."

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"So Goldenrod, how are you enjoying being Account Manager of three Ancient and Noble Houses?" Harry asked, noting that the goblin now had four assistants sitting at their own (lower and smaller) desk busily taking minutes. Somebody's been moving up in the world.

"Busy. But profitable," the goblin summarised, snapping his jaw in a way that could indicate satisfaction, annoyance, self-pity, weariness, resignation, joy, or hostility. "What can Gringotts do for you today."

"Time is money, so I'll be brief," Harry said. The goblins nodded in approval at a human who showed rare good sense. "I shall be relocating to Japan for the foreseeable future, along with my retainers. Consequently I need some loose ends tied up. Cost is no object." The goblins nodded again in approval at a human who showed himself to be a complete sucker. Rich and stupid was the best combination of qualities a human could possess.

"Regarding House Malfoy, I want to formally adopt Merope Gaunt, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Remus Lupin and Mary MacDonald as full members." Mary was the last muggleborn of their group unattached to a great House, and Remus was a 'dark creature'; this at least would provide some legal protection if things got hairy with the Ministry. Luckily the Malfoy Family Rules had no restrictions on werewolves joining – probably because none of them had ever in their dreams imagined a Head would ever make one a family member. Harry hoped Mary and Remus wouldn't be too pissed at him for going behind her back like this. "Further, I wish to formally roll the Lovegood and Fitzhallibut-Malfoy cadet lines into the main Malfoy family, with full succession rights and so forth."

The goblin assistants scribbled furiously. One of them raced out of the room.

"We require blood samples from each of the individuals to be adopted," rasped Goldenrod. Harry wordlessly passed over vials of blood he had obtained (or in the case of Mary and Remus, sent Kreacher to take samples from their bloodied Quidditch gauntlets in the locker rooms). The Account Manager passed the vials to another assistant, who also left the office. "Anything else?"

Harry grinned viciously. "Oh yes. You have a Gringotts branch in Tokyo?"

"Of course," the goblin replied, offended.

"Good. Open an account there for me and transfer every knut from every Black vault to it. Access limited to myself and everyone on this list." He handed over a list of the members of the HA. "No keys, blood sample access only." The last thing he wanted was someone losing their vault key in the Japanese countryside, or having it filched and the vault emptied by some enterprising local. "Then close all the Black vaults except one, and move all the artefacts, books, paintings, anything that isn't currency, into it."

Goldenrod made a few notations on his parchment. "It will be completed within the week."

"Next, I'm going to do what you suggested I do during our last meeting – let my beloved relatives starve on the street. Every member of the Black family except myself and Sirius Black is to be expelled as soon as practicable!" Ha, that surprised you! "Simultaneously, the following people are to be adopted into House Malfoy: Andromeda Tonks, Theodore Tonks, Nymphadora Tonks, Narcissa Black, Dorea Potter-Black and Cedrella Weasley-Black. I believe you have their blood and magical signatures on record? Good. From this time on, House Black will only have three members – myself as Head, my Heir Sirius, and by default, my proxy Andromeda for as long as she remains my proxy.

"Then I want Gringotts to liquidate the assets of House Black. All properties to be sold, including the main house at Grimmauld Place, all inhabitants evicted, all dark artefacts destroyed, all books and any other valuables to be moved to my storage vault. Don't forget to retrieve the contents of the warded library hidden under the secret trapdoor in the bottom basement of Grimmauld Place. On no account should any Gringotts employee attempt to read those books!"

Goldenrod stared at him with an unreadable (even for a goblin) expression. "You realise what you're doing?" he asked slowly. At some point he had taken to his feet.

Harry nodded. "I'm disestablishing House Black as anything other than two schoolboys, a Wizengamot seat and a bunch of heirlooms. By the time I return to Britain, I expect the House to exist in name and law alone."

His Account Manager slowly sank back down into his seat. "If you don't mind my asking," he eventually said, "What brought this radical decision on?"

"I don't mind telling you, Goldenrod. I left them alone at first because I made a deal with Orion Black to spare them in exchange for certain things. That, plus they really didn't know any better. Had to make allowances for that, not everyone is a Sirius Black. After Voldemort attained to his squibdom, they had the opportunity to renounce his violent prejudicial cause and reconcile with me. Instead, the majority abandoned Britain to join Grindelwald's new model army. They've crossed their Rubicon, burned their last bridges. As far as I'm concerned, they've lost all access to any family assets or protection. And if I meet them on the field of battle, they won't be walking away from it."

"If I ever anger you, Lord Black, let me know so I can dig my own grave and lie in wait in it."

"If you ever anger me, Master Goldenrod, you wouldn't know it, as all of Gringotts would be rubble covering your corpse."

Goldenrod sighed, "If only you had been born a goblin."

"If only you had been born a human."

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Lily Evans was apprehensive. The reclusive Durmstranger, sole representative of her school remaining at Hogwarts, a girl who'd turned down all overtures of friendship and group study (even after the loss of her schoolmates), now wanted to speak to her about subjects unknown. That was not a good portent. Zabini never talked to anyone about anything. And right when we have no Headmaster, and a horde of Dementors have taken up residence on the Hogwarts grounds. Why did I ever think this term was going to be less eventful than the last? she sighed to herself. But there really was no excuse she could use to reject her request for a meeting; she was supposed to be accessible to everyone, after all, even the foreign exchange students. Still, she did ensure that Mary MacDonald and the McKinnon twins were present as backup if necessary. Zabini did not object to, nor even acknowledge, their presence, as she glided placidly into the Head Girl's office.

"Xiomara Lucrezia Zabini of Durmstrang, welcome to my office. Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?" Lily asked politely.

"No thankyou, Head Girl Lily Evans of Hogwarts. Though I appreciate your hospitality," Xiomara replied in a formal tone as she floated down onto the chairs with ethereal grace. For some reason she had eschewed the Durmstrang uniform in favour of the attire of a Hogwarts student. A yellow Hufflepuff tie around her neck, and yellow and black lining on the edges of her robes. "I am sure you wondered why I organised this get-together, considering we've never spoken so much as two words."

"The thought had crossed my mind. I assumed it was because you were having some issue or problem with your stay here? I hope that there is nothing causing you concern?" Other than the total vanishing of every single other member of your school without a trace …

"In a manner of speaking," Xiomara said. "Though probably not in the way you envisage. Please forgive my bluntness, but I was given to understand that you value candour and directness in your dealings with others." At Lily's nod, she continued. "Then I shall get straight to the point: House Zabini seeks your intercession with Lord Malfoy and his household on our behalf."

"Lord Malfoy?" Mary queried quizzically, "Isn't he dead now?"

Xiomara did not break eye contact with Lily, but answered the question nonetheless. "Yes and no. I'm referring to the new Lord Malfoy."

"There's a new Lord Malfoy? I wasn't aware," Lily replied in surprise. Her surprise surprised the Zabini.

"Your Lord didn't inform you of his recent investiture?" she asked in confusion.

"No he did not. Wait, what do you mean by 'my Lord'? Who in the hell has been going around telling people that I'm– oh no. No no no. I really reeeeeeally hope that you're not going to say what I think you will …"

"I am saying that Lord Peter Pettigrew has taken up the mantle of House Malfoy in addition to that of Houses Black and Potter," said Xiomara with a touch of asperity. She was growing impatient with the Head Girl's façade of obliviousness. "My family are allies of House Malfoy, and part of the terms of alliance is my hand in marriage. Lord Malfoy and I have, accordingly, signed our betrothal contract, and agreed the terms of my entrance into his household. I desire good relations with the other members of the household: Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy-Lovegood and the Veela. Unfortunately, he appears uncomfortable with my involvement; I know of your great influence over him and the others and beg your support in aiding my integration – it is in all of our best interests that we form a harmonious group. I do not mind if you are his primary wife. I do not mind if you are mistress of his household. All I ask, Lady Black, is that I be kept in the style of living to which I'm accustomed, in terms of gold, leisure and the freedom to accumulate more of both." She paused to let that sink in. "The question is, what do you want in return for doing me this service?" Xiomara flicked a thick lock of ebony curls back over her shoulder. "Gold? Contacts? A career track? I know that James Potter has been harassing you for some time now. I can ensure that he is … removed from the equation entirely if you like."

When the full import of what the girl was saying finally registered, Lily gave a low growl of exasperation. Her three friends looked on with a mixture of curiosity, amusement and concern. These days it seemed she was losing her temper quite a lot, over all the things that kept happening – correction, over a certain group of Gryffindor sixth-year males that kept happening to her.

"First Apolline, then Pandora, and now you!? Is Fate Herself conspiring to try and drag me into a harem? And The Vermin's harem, of all people! Why in the name of Morgana's hairy armpits would I want to share a wizard with a bunch of other witches? And why would I even want to anything to do with that pathetic excuse for a Rat Bastard?!"

She glared defiantly at Zabini, fists on her hips, openly daring the girl to challenge her. This whole conversation was straying into territory uncomfortably close to her parents' unwelcome revelations that night Pettigrew had paid his unannounced visit to her house.

The Mediterranean girl grit her teeth in frustration. Of all the witches in this castle, why did it have to be a muggleborn? And a particularly loud, stubborn and opinionated muggleborn to boot. Oh well, them were the breaks. She'd made her bed and now it was time to sleep in it. Or was that, time to eat it? The muggle expression mattered not. Then again, it wasn't as if Lady Black didn't have redeeming qualities. In all honesty, Zabini had to admit she was a catch: Head Girl of Hogwarts at a mere 16 years of age, probably retaining that position for two years running, brilliant, top of all her classes, passionate, gorgeous, kindly. Really, all she had to do was sandpaper away those many, many abrasive edges and teach the girl some proper wizarding culture, and Evans may one day, a century or so for now, emerge as from a chrysalis to become a passable simulacrum of a proper pureblood lady. Lower-middle class pureblood lady, but a lady nonetheless.

"The reason it keeps coming up is probably because anyone with so much as one working eye in their head can see how close the two of you are." Xiomara offered sensibly.

"CLOSE?!" Lily shrieked incredulously. "How could anyone ever believe we're close?" She shivered in horror, was that really how other people saw them?

"Naturally," replied her interlocutor. "After all, you're the only female he's spent significant amounts of time with since the beginning of the school year. Apolline and Pandora are johnny-come-latelies to the party in that regard. As for you, ever since you broke ties with Severus Snape, Lord Malfoy is your only significant male friend. And it's not just the amount of time you spend together either; every time I turn around, I notice the two of you huddled away somewhere, plotting and scheming. Then there is your mysterious marriage. Nothing ever appeared in the society papers, but my sources assure me that it is duly registered in the Wizengamot's files. Not to mention that you two share some subtle magical link that nobody can decipher, but is there nonetheless."

"Wha…? But…?"

"Now take the case of Lady Delacour, which you raised," the Durmstranger-turned-Badger continued unperturbed. "She is Veela. A pure hedonist. She knows exactly what pleases her and is willing to spread pleasure around in order to get it … of course, merely being a Veela doesn't automatically make you like that, not all Veela are that way, in fact many are the exact opposite from what I've heard from my relatives in Italy," she added hastily, noting the dangerous gleam in the Head Girl's eye.

"I can see you're getting the wrong idea," Xiomara backpedalled, acutely aware of how close Mount Evans was to erupting. "What I'm trying to tell you is that Apolline's gotten it into her head that Pettigrew's the one she wants, and she'll move heaven and earth to keep him. And it's clear that her stubbornness rivals even your own." She smirked at the expression Lily was now sporting. "Little Princess Delacour is a devious bird of prey who has figured out that whichever way you break it down, she has to cut a deal with you sooner or later."

She began ticking off her fingers. "Pettigrew's able to resist her allure with ease, so she can't bewitch him into abandoning you. You're known to be incorruptible, so she can't buy you off with gold or favours or anything like that to make you abandon him. Although by ancient custom she claims him as her husband for saving her hide at the Battle of Hogwarts, if she pushes and he complains to the Wizengamot, she could be run out of the country by a lynch mob. And you're too powerful and wily for her to feasibly succeed in killing you off."

"Gah! You're not seriously suggesting that she's thought about–"

"She's not a muggle – or a human. Why on earth would you expect her to behave like one?"

Lily had no answer to that.

"All of which left mam'selle Apolline with the sole option of presenting him with a deal too good for him to refuse. Why do you think the first thing she did was to drag along the then Miss Lovegood into the mix as a sweetener? Lovegood's in love with Science – and how can we mere mortals hold a candle to that? – so she's no threat to Apolline. Plus it's well known that Lovegoods are, hmmmm how to say it? Typically far less concerned with personal boundaries and orientations than your average magical Briton," she said delicately.

"You're saying she's into wizards and witches. And that she doesn't care if her husband has a stable of women on the side." It wasn't a question. Lily could feel that headache starting to return. The pile of unfinished paperwork on her desk was becoming more and more enticing by the minute.

"Blunt, but not inaccurate." Xiomara conceded.

"And you know what's going on in her head, how? And what's going on in Apolline's head? Have you lot been conspiring behind my back?"

The olive-skinned witch shrugged. "No, we've barely spoken on matters outside of schoolwork and the war. But it's obvious from their behaviour, if you know how to read the signs. For example, the way that Delacour's allure affects Lovegood. Very different from the reaction of your standard witch, which is usually jealous rage. That's a dead giveaway. And I'm sure you've notice that Apolline is awfully touchy-feely with Lovegood, much more so than with her fellow girls from Beauxbatons whom she's known a lot longer. That's another giveaway. And I understand that she openly invited you to be Peter's mistress, before anyone found out about your nuptials. Is it true that she had you stay with her at her home in France over Christmas?"

Lily nodded reluctantly.

"There you go then: multiple blatant overtures to you. It all fits. Don't look so surprised I put it all together: although I now wear Hufflepuff colours, at heart I'm Durmstrang. We are like your House Slytherin. We observe. And scheme. That's what we do. Not being raised in a proper pureblood family, and being unobservant by nature, you're at a disadvantage there. But I can help you improve your skills if you'd like."

Deliberately disregarding the slight, Lily demanded, "What about you? You're okay with ensnaring yourself in this crazy situation?"

"House Zabini has entered into an alliance with the Malfoy family, one that I intend to uphold to the best of my ability. My betrothed is the Head of three Ancient and Noble Houses, something unheard of for at least the last thousand years. One of which is probably the wealthiest House in Britain; the other two less so, but from very old lines, which gives them great social prestige. And all three of which he was able to somehow wrest from their rightful Lords, all while underage! One can only wonder what amazing feats he will achieve in the future. Especially with our support."

"And if you had to get involved with other witches, should such situations arise …?"

"Is not something I'm prepared to discuss with a party who has not formally joined the arrangement." Xiomara said with finality, with a glance at the other three girls who were trying, and failing, to act as if they were busy with their homework and not hanging onto every word.

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DEATH EATERS FLEE EUROPE!

Following The Self-Inflicted Demise of Their MRHBDL, Death Eaters and Blood Supremacist Sympathisers Flee Magical Europe For Magical Asia Like Cowards! Dark Forces in Complete Chaos, Confusion, Despair and Disarray!

By Rita Skeeter and Heywood U. Kuddulmee

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"You know," said Marlene thoughtfully, poking at the mysterious artefact that Zabini had left behind as a 'token' of her seriousness and good faith, "what she said makes a lot of sense."

"Oh no," Lily groaned, dropping her face into the large pile of paperwork that she was trying to distract herself with. The thunk was clearly audible. "Don't tell me you're keen on me becoming a kept woman too?"

"'Course not, Lils," Alice laughed, "We'll support you whatever you want to do. That's what friends are for. I think what she means is it explains a lot about what's been happening."

"Like what?" She raised her head, unaware of the black ink that had smudged all over her face. The others smirked but said nothing.

"Like why so many purebloods have started being so nice to you, and actually follow your orders for once."

"I figured it was because the Slytherins' disappearance got rid of the worst offenders."

"That's part of it I'm sure, but when you think about it, it really started to happen at the beginning of the school year. Before the snakes packed up and slunk away," Marlene explained.

Mary's insatiable curiosity was by now aroused. Discarding even the pretence of making productive headway in her Charms paper, she eagerly asked, "So what do ye think is really going on, lassies?"

"I could be wrong," Marlene said slowly, "but based on what Zabini was hinting at, I sense that the Traditionalists have come to the conclusion that you're the first muggleborn in decades (maybe centuries) to follow the old customs, and are treating you accordingly."

"I don't understand," Lily said, trying to focus on her report. "What does that mean?"

"Oh Lily-flower," Marlene sighed, "you know I love you, but sometimes you can be so ignorant." She dodged the scrunched up ball of paper banished at her. Only to be nailed by the fusillade launched by Mary from the other side.

Cancelling the spellfire in exasperation, Alice interjected, "Can't you lot ever be serious? Look Lils, you know that purebloods are broken up into three main groups," she lectured. "The Purists, the Progressives, and the Traditionalists. The Purists are the most vocal group and they formed the bulk of You-Know-Who's followers. They spout the usual nonsense about killing muggles and so forth, quite depressing fellows. The Purists are ... well, for lack of a better term, insecure: their families aren't as ancient as they'd like most to believe, no more than about 500 years for the oldest. They're basically non-existent around Hogwarts after being purged by Persons Unknown." Lily didn't like the knowing smirk that accompanied that statement. "The second group are made up of people like the Longbottoms, Weasleys, Bones, Diggorys, Prewetts and such. The Progressives, or in common parlance, 'the Light'," she said with a hint of apology, "are at their core ignorant. They are the witches and wizards that think we're not so different from the muggles, just know a few things that they don't."

"What's wrong with that?" Lily demanded.

"Human nature," Alice replied. "Humans have a history of destroying that which they do not understand."

"What about the third group?" Mary asked, interested in spite of her general contempt for pureblood bigotry.

"The Traditionalists are the ones that have been polite to Lily lately," Marlene continued. "They don't necessarily feel that muggleborn are inferior. Consensus is that muggleborn are ... well, rude for lack of a better term."

"Oi!" Mary objected hotly, "I take exception to that! I'm extremely bloody polite, ye Sassenach cow-wanker!"

"Of course you are," Marlene said sardonically.

"Exactly. Now take that comment back right now or I'll have yer guts fer haggis!"

"How would you feel if someone came into your home and ignored your customs?" Marlene turned back to Lily. "Not just ignored, but ridiculed and made no effort to learn them? And then did their darndest to change them to their own idea of what's best?"

"Oh."

"Contrariwise, they are polite to those they think are respecting their ways."

"I am?"

"Yes, because to Traditionalists it looks very much like you've attached yourself to Lord Too-Many-Titles as his retainer." Overriding her squawk of protest, Marlene continued, "You followed him out into the Forbidden Forest to protect him, you shielded him and his cronies from the harshest of the punishments McGonagall was dishing out after the Battle of Hogwarts, you're always hanging out with him in hidden locations, presumably carrying out his tasks. You haven't performed several of the traditional duties to him but that can be explained due to your ignorance; the Hogwarts Library has an appalling lack of books on the subject."

Not giving either muggleborn a chance to interrupt, Alice expounded, "The Traditionalists are, if you look at their origins, afraid of muggles. They like to maintain that they are above muggles, or at the very least separate and independent of muggle society. In short, they were started by people who are terrified by what muggles could do. The old families that trace their line to the days when muggles revolted against their wizard masters, families that know that secrecy is the way to safety."

"Unfortunately, with a few exceptions, women aren't worth much in Traditionalist circles," Marlene sighed. "Because the wizarding population is so low compared to muggles, most people seem to think girls should spend all their time pregnant and raising magical children. But every Traditionalist child grows up with stories about loyal muggleborn retainers. That's why you can use it to your advantage."

"Go on," Lily said with deadly calm.

"Ever thought about being the first muggleborn Minister for Magic? Or the first muggleborn Director of the Unspeakables? Or the first muggleborn professor at Hogwarts? What Pandora told you is pretty close to the mark – not surprising, since she's a Malfoy after all. Ordinarily your chances at getting an important role the magical world would be slim to none. If on the other hand, all the Traditionalists see you as Peter's retainer, then they'll assume he's your patron and you're acting as his puppet, his way of staying out of the public eye while wielding power from the shadows. In that case, well the sky's the limit …"

"Alright, that's the final straw! All this insanity has got to stop!"

"Ye keep saying that over and over again," Mary observed in amusement, "yet ye never actually do anathin about it." Lily blinked.

"You're right, Mary," she said decisively. "It's time to confront The Rat Bastard and end this nonsense once and for all!" She stood dramatically, threw on her robe, affixed the golden Head Girl pin and ran a hand through her auburn locks to smooth them down some. "How do I look?"

Mary considered her ink-covered face and hands, rumpled robes and frazzled, bushy hair. "Like ye just lost a fight with a grain thresher. Driven by squids."

Lily merely flipped her off and left.

"Uh oh," Marlene giggled, "I think she thinks you were being facetious."

"But it'll sure make for an interesting encounter," Alice added. "Come on, we don't want to miss it."

"Hang on," Mary demanded, "I left me camera round here somewhere!"

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Lily managed to ditch her tails, and finally located her prey eating his lunch down by the Black Lake, enjoying the rare sunlight and the rare bit of peace and solitude.

"Okay Rat-boy, you're going to stop telling people that we're married or soulmates or destined or whatever other thestral-shite you've been spoon-feeding them!"

"Rat-boy? I resent that!" He took an annoyed bite of his jerky.

"Stop gnawing on that and pay attention to me!"

"Okay." He put his lunch away and took in her … interesting style. "What in Morgana's name happened to you?" he asked in amusement.

"You! You're what happened to me! What is wrong with my life?" Lily lamented. "No sooner do I get rid of one obsessive stalker, but he's immediately replaced by another one! Worse, one who's hell-bent on dragging me into his harem!"

Harry was completely mystified by her rant. "What are you talking about? I've never said a word about you to anyone." Except Ron and Hermione, but they didn't count. If there were two people least interested in the current schoolyard gossip, it was that pair. "And I've never tried to rope you into anything."

"Really? What about that Merlin-damned ritual?!"

"A slight miscalculation," he defended, "it was for the best of intentions, and no harm was done!"

"Look, I don't want to keep fighting with you, Pettigrew," she sighed. "I admit you can be an alright guy when you're not being a complete skeez – just stop saying that I'm your mistress or concubine or retainer or mother or whatever and stay the heck out of my life, and we'll be good."

"I keep telling you I haven't said anything like that to anyone. If somebody told you that, they're either lying or they just made it up."

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm genuinely dumb this time."

"All the time, more like it – and lay off the denials, those wives of yours have told me everything!"

"Come again?"

"Yeah I bet you want to; but it won't be with me, Rat-face!"

"Wait a minute," Harry said slowly, coming to a realisation. "This is a put-on, isn't it? You're pretending to be mad to try and guilt me into doing something I'm not gonna want to do, aren't you?" He eyed the startled girl suspiciously. "What do you really want?"

"Eh? No, that's not it …"

"Sure it's not," he said sarcastically. "You think I've learned nothing from Pandora and Apolline?"

Their argument was destined to continue to go round and round in circles for many hours, but for the darkening of the sky and drop in temperature. They could start to hear little whispers of despair at the edges of their consciousness. Lily shivered and drew her robe more tightly around her body. Harry jumped to his feet.

"That's it, I've had all I can stand, I can't stands no more!" Harry snapped.

"What? Where are you going?" demanded Lily, as he stormed off.

He yelled over his shoulder, "I've had it with all these motherfrelling Dementors in this motherfrelling school!"

"You're deliberately going out into the middle of a horde of Dementors?" the redhead shrieked in disbelief as she chased after him.

"Sure am! You know what they say: every day, do one thing that scares you. Maybe do four things. Live in constant fear! Whadya have to lose?" He began to laugh hysterically. Lily was becoming ever more concerned about the sanity of her friend. Who knew he had such an extreme reaction to the foul creatures? She was about to persuade him to return with her, when he whipped out his wand. "Expecto Patronem!" The glowing silver stag leaped out of his wand … hmmmm it looked different to the last time she'd seen it, when he'd demonstrated the charm to the HA. Its body was rounder, less angular, with shorter legs and shorter antlers. It sported a smaller, pointier muzzle and much larger whiskers. Harry leaped onto the back of his sorta-stag Patronus, its shimmering corporeal body more than capable of carrying his weight. "Get back to the kitchens and fill up on hot chocolate. I'm going to have a little word with these soul-suckers. Heigh ho, Prongs!" he proclaimed, waving his wand in front of him as if it were a sword. "And upon this charge, cry: 'God for Harry, England and St George!'" And they were off.

Lily stared for a second, then the icy drops of rain began pelting her, driving her back to reality. Cursing herself for her 'saving people thing', she whipped out her wand and followed.

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Harry and Patronus-Prongs fought their way through the howling gale and the tenebrous clouds that gathered around the large cluster of Dementors. The hellspawn were milling around aimlessly near the Quidditch Stadium. Harry was slowly acclimatising to their powerful auras, his rat-instincts' screaming was settling, and his bout of mad hysteria starting to dissipate as he ran through his Occlumency exercises over and over again. Thank Merlin he'd at least kept enough of a grip on his sanity and his magic to maintain Prongs; his faithful steed's reliable, steady presence gave him renewed confidence, even as they canted through the midst of the valley of the shadow of death. Eventually his mind had cleared enough to focus on his spellcasting.

Alright, it was go-time! Time to put his game-face on. Time to put all his necromancy to good use. Time to see the fruits of his many hours of apprenticing under Dirk and Master Dee. Swishing his wand back and forth, he cast a spell summoning the demons to approach, to present themselves for his inspection. With short, sharp, piercing, keening yelps, the foul creatures began shuffling towards him and forming uneven ranks.

Feeling another, stronger wave of despair swirl through him, Harry focused harder on his Occlumency, gradually shrugging off the concentrated effects. For the first time when facing these things, Harry focused his mind and magic on pushing 'through' their necromantic auras the way Dirk had showed him, and suddenly, his eyes could pierce the Dementors' veils. Though everything else around them remained as before, dim and dark, the dark shapes themselves became terribly clear. He was able to see beneath their black wrappings to the ethereal bodies beneath. They were tall figures. In their white faces burned keen and merciless eyes, under their mantles were long grey robes, upon their long grey hair were helms of silver, their bare hands were rough and haggard, fingernails long and twisted and metallic, reminding him of swords and steel for some reason. Their pure white eyes fell on him and pierced him, as they rushed towards him. Desperate, he flicked his wand as if he were waving a firebrand at a pack of hungry wild beasts, and they flinched away from him, eventually settling into a loose semicircle, floating lazily two feet off the ground.

With his new sight, Harry could now discern that eight of the Dementors were taller than the others, their hair was much longer and gleaming. On their helms sat crowns of gold that glowed with a pale light. These figures were clearly the dominant ones of the pack, and the ones to whom he directed his ire. Summoning up Nagini from her slumber, he imagined the pale figures as writhing serpents and began to speak.

§Who daresss intrude in my domain!?§ he demanded of them, hoping against hope that Master Dee was correct.

§Yoursss?§ one of the taller creatures hissed derisively. §You are lessss than nothing, puny mortal. Thisss ssschool is our territory now. All who enter it are our prey. None ssstand between a Dementor and itsss prey.§

§My wand and will say otherwisssse. I've beaten you before and I'll do it again, over and over if necessssary,§ Harry declared, with far more confidence than he was actually feeling. Twirling his wand in a complex manoeuvre, he cast another spell, tightening the invisible bonds that clamped them to their current location.

§You think you can break ussss?§

§Why not?§ Harry replied. §I have already purged Hogwartsss of itssss sssnakes, and now I intend to purge Britain of itssss Dementorssss!§

§Who are you!?§ the nightmarish creature demanded.

Harry grinned rakishly. §Call me Ssssst Patrick.§

"Pettigrew! Where are you?!" A voice in the dark.

Harry turned to see a pale silver glow approaching him. Lily Evans hurried towards him, her Patronus lighting her path. It did not yet have a distinct shape, but formed a cloud-like mass of shimmering magic that drove the shadows and chill away before it.

"Over here, Lils!" he called, waving his free hand. Prongs waved one of its forelegs encouragingly.

"What … the hell … is wrong … with you … reckless nutter," she panted, pulling up alongside her friend.

"What do you mean? I've faced these things at least four times before. And now I'm at the end of my patience with these demons'-entrails! Why are you here?"

"Why? You ask me why?! As if I'd let you charge into the Merry Old Land of Demons without me! How dare you rush off alone like that!"

"Well, I mean …"

"Next time you feel the need to act stupid, You Will Tell Me before you rush off by yourself," she growled.

"Understood," he said in defeat.

"What were you doing just now? I heard a lot of hissing." She stepped up beside Harry, then boldly leaped up onto Prongs behind him. With a sigh of relief, she released her vague cloud thingie Patronus from her control, and it faded out of existence.

"Parseltongue."

"You're a Parselmouth!? Great, yet one more secret from Pettigrew's bottomless skeleton-closet. How many do you have left? Why didn't you tell anyone about your abilities?"

"What, and have the entire school turn on me for being a budding 'dark wizard'," Harry scoffed. "No thanks, I have enough problems with actual dark wizards."

"You wouldn't have the school thinking those sorts of things if you didn't go around brawling with Slytherins in the Great Hall or recruiting your friends to become Dark Lords and Dark Ladies!" she replied severely.

"Point," he admitted. "But the Parselmouth thing really doesn't help. Wizards and witches seem to be obsessed with the idea that it's a mark of Pure Evil or something."

"So how did you know it would work on Dementors?" she asked curiously. She shivered as the cold seemed to increase physically; she could see her breath in the air. Wrapping her left arm tightly around his torso (careful to keep her wand and wand-arm free and ready), she cuddled up against his back. His body (as well as Prongs's between her legs) were surprisingly warm for being stuck in the eye of this maelstrom of arctic chill.

"Master Dee; he told me Parseltongue didn't only work for talking to snakes, but, combined with the appropriate necromantic focus, could theoretically be used for direct communication with spirits, shades and other dead and/or demonic entities, such as these things."

"Theoretically?"

He shrugged. "The talent is so rare it's difficult to test its full capabilities. But, as Master Dee put it, you don't really think Salazar Slytherin went to all the trouble of sacrificing 100 magical virgins in some bizarre unrecorded ritual in order to bind this magical ability permanently to his blood and magic, and to ensure it was passed down through his bloodline, if it was good for nothing but to be able to gossip with the most vain, self-obsessed stick-in-the-muds of the animal kingdom?"

Hey! I resent that! Nagini hissed.

The Grim howled with laughter.

"I mean," Harry continued absently, ignoring the internal argument, "being able to command basilisks would be pretty cool, and useful for the state of war they were in at the time, but for the same amount of time and energy it'd take to breed basilisks or any other giant serpents, his enemies could build up armies, or transfigure hordes of dangerous creatures to attack en masse. Doesn't seem a practicable use of magic or skill, you know?"

"He … he sacrificed 100 virgins for it?" she asked sickly.

"According to legend, yes – he needed that many to power the death and soul magic he was invoking, and binding to his soul … Allegedly. As I said, the ritual was unrecorded so it's all idle speculation whether 100 virgins were involved or 1000 or one or none at all. For all we know, Salazar sacrificed 1000 tea cozys to Pyros, because he had a lifelong desire to talk to snakes for no other reason than that he was a crazy son of an inbred family line who wore his underwear outside of his pants and walked around on his hands instead of his feet! Who really knows?"

"I think I'm gonna be ill."

"Hang in there, we're gonna get through this," he encouraged her, giving her arm around him a squeeze of reassurance. "The point is, Master Dee and his colleagues at the Guild of Necromancers are of the belief that the whole purpose of the ritual was to obtain permanent necromantic powers, and the talking-to-snakes schtick was merely an unexpected side-effect. It starts to make a bit of sense when you remember that, from ancient times, snakes were worshipped as symbols of life and death, rebirth and renewal. The Epic of Gilgamesh in Mesopotamia, the Egyptian Uraeus, the Nagas of India, and so forth. This seemed like an ideal time to test the hypothesis, as Pandora would say."

It's possible, the Otter chittered. The only other Parselmouth around was always extremely proficient with necromancy; he did become the only person in history to ever split his soul into multiple horcruxes. I imagine that would be immensely difficulty even for a master necromancer, let alone a complete novice!

"And if it didn't work like you thought it would?"

"Then these Dementors would be enjoying the taste of Patronus sandwich force-fed down their hideous dry gullets."

Lily couldn't help giving a dry, rasping laugh of her own.

"Feeling a bit better now? Good. Now we're going to see what we can do about resolving our country's ongoing Dementor infestation."

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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Lily become impatient after 20 minutes of solid, endless hissing between Pettigrew and these disgusting monsters. The ongoing, bone-penetrating chill was setting her teeth increasingly on edge. It may have been her imagination, but it seemed as if her warming charms were wearing off faster each time she cast them. To make matters worse, she was being excluded from the conversation. If there was one thing Lily Evans hated, it was being excluded! "What are they saying?" she finally insisted, her curiosity at such a pitch it felt it was about to explode from her being.

"They're telling me about their history – how they came to be like they are. Apparently, they were originally some sort of species of powerful magical bird-like things, it's why they can fly around. A bit like phoenixes, I guess. Except their speciality was soul magic. That's why Dementors have such a big effect on your emotions, since they emanate from your soul. But in ancient times, some Dark Lord captured them; he wanted to utilise their soul-swallowing powers for his own nefarious ends. He had no use for their more positive abilities, so tore their beings in half and only kept their dark parts. It's why they're constantly trying to suck positive emotions and souls from people. Always trying to fill the gaping, insatiable emptiness in the very heart of their being."

"How horrible!" Lily never thought she'd ever feel pity for Dementors of all things.

"Yeah; they're basically the tormented ghosts of an extinct species. Many of them have even tried to kill themselves over the centuries just to end all the suffering, but since they're not exactly alive, it never works. Only known way is the Flown Charm, and virtually nobody has the skill or power to cast it. There's a bunch more details, but that's the main gist of it."

"And here I was thinking they were just a bunch of monarchs from ancient times that were enslaved to the Dark Lord Sauron via magic rings," Lily said sarcastically, trying to ward off her natural compassion that was threatening to engulf her. She did not want to become some sort of Dementors' welfare activist! She was surprised when the creatures reared back in fright.

§Speak not His name!§ the spokesmentor snarled. The other creatures hissed and rattled in in anger.

"Uh I don't think they like you saying that guy's name," Harry said, in admiration at her knowledge. Eventually the monsters settled down and ceased their nervous flitting to and fro. "I'm impressed; you really are the brightest witch of our generation – how did you know that stuff about the Dark Lord Whatsisname? Was it something else I missed while I was sleeping through Binns' class?"

"Don't tell me you've never read The Lord of the Rings? The Hobbit? Any of Tolkien?" she demanded, deciding to ignore that comment about their History of Magic classes.

The blank expression on his face was answer enough.

"You really need to get some culture."

He shrugged "Probably. What is this Lord of the Rings thingie – a seventh year book?"

"It's a series of muggle fantasy books I read as a kid. I thought it was fiction, but …"

Harry nodded. "I'm not surprised; I hear a lot of wizarding folk write about the magical world, their own experiences, magical legends, magical history and so forth, and publish them in the muggle world as fantasy fiction. They change the names of people and places just enough avoid getting in trouble with the Ministry. 10 to 1 this author you're talking about was one of 'em." He'd encountered such things before in his past/future life. One Squib woman had even had the gall to publish an entire series of 'Boy-Who-Lived' stories, which had become muggle bestsellers no less. Harry Potter and the Something Something or Other. He still winced in memory of how much of a whining git she had portrayed him as. Still, he was secure in the comfort that none of his friends were ever likely to read them.

"Anyway, if I remember my Tolkien correctly, these things were called Nazgûl or ring-wraiths or witch-kings."

§We have been called by many names: Dementorsss, demonsss, monstersss, hellssspawn, wraithsss, Nazgûl, Nunbolg, Ulairi, lichssss, wightsss, witch-kingsss, sssoul-suckersss, the walking dead, the children of Lolth, the Great Old Onesss, and more.§

"That's a bit sexist, calling them witch-kings," Harry observed. "When at least one of them is clearly female."

"Really?"

"Sure. You see these eight," he gestured to eight of the monstrous demons, who (to Lily's eye) looked exactly the same as all the rest. "They're the 'witch-kings' you're talking about, the big cheeses of this herd. Although it's more accurate to say, six witch-kings and two, I think, witch-queens. It's a bit difficult to tell, since they're wearing male-type armour and crowns, just like the rest. The spokesmentor here is definitely a queen. Camel the Easterbunny or something, her name is, I think. We're still having some trouble communicating. Ruled a country called Runes."

"What is it with you and your obsession with bunnies!? Is it the whole 'Peter Rabbit' thing? Because if so, it's gotten really old by now. Really really old."

"That's what she's saying!" Harry protested. "At least I think it is. Names are tricky, there's all sorts of nuances."

"I'm surprised they didn't leave any of their leaders behind to guard Azkaban," the Head Girl said, changing the subject.

Harry turned back to the black shapes and they hissed some more.

"From what I can make out, Azkaban is a very boring place if you're a Dementor. Probably a very boring place if you're a human too; that is, when you're not screaming in existential terror," Harry shuddered. "But if you're a Dementor, there's nothing to do but float around endlessly on the same rounds century after century, feeding on whatever scraps of emotions the pitiful wrecks of what once were human beings can produce. They're almost always starving. That's why they jump at the chance to get away for a while. Offsite assignments like the one here at Hogwarts are considered plum gigs. It's no wonder their head honchos are the ones who are first in line for these junkets."

At least you can rest easy, satisfied in your own importance, knowing that the two Dementors who tried to eat your and Dudley's souls in Little Whinging were most likely demonic royalty, the Grim noted sagely. And probably the ones that tried to eat you at the Quidditch game, and tried to eat you when you were chasing after Sirius.

Wow, I feel so honoured, Harry replied sarcastically.

"Anyway, there used to be nine of them, but their captain was slain by some human queen millennia ago," Harry concluded.

"Angmar, I think," Lily supplied, face scrunched in concentration. The creatures ratted and groaned once more.

"You're right again – guess this Talkie fellow really knew his stuff. Though how he knew it in the first place," Harry said pensively, "is a rather disturbing question … maybe he was a necromancer; or a guard at Azkaban." He stroked his non-existent beard. "Anyway, this Camel woman-wraith-thingie was the second-in-command, so when the king of kings bit it, she took over, and has been calling the shots since."

§Tell me lichsss,§ he hissed, §if you had the chance to leave thessse issslesss and sssseek other climessss, would you do ssssso?§

§Of courssssse,§ one of the witch-kings replied immediately. §We have drained thissss missserable poor land assss much asss we can get away with. Our leasssshesss are too tight to feed properly on the cattle that infest thesssse countriesss.§

§Then you are in luck – I have a once-in-a-millennium opportunity for you and your clan. I and my companionssss leave sssshortly to go to war in a far dissstant land. You are welcome to join ussss if you agree to never try to conssssume our emotionsss or sssoulsss, only thossse of our enemiessss. In return, I will bring you to a place, a wild place with few lawsssss and little government, but many many foesssss for you to sssslake your hungerssss with. Where you may roam free once the war is over.§

Lily again grew impatient as her friend and the shadowy beasts continued their hissing discussion for some time. Just when she was about to interrupt them again, Pettigrew abruptly stood and laid out a bag he had in his robe pocket for some reason. To her surprise, the host of dark creatures lined up and proceeded to float into the bag's opening until all had gone. Pettigrew sealed the bag and secured it once more. She could feel the air starting to warm; the dark clouds overhead began to dissipate, and the chill began to leave her aching bones.

"What's that bag?"

"Something Umbridge got for me. Acquired it from one of her contacts, I didn't ask for details."

"What happened with the Dementors," she demanded shakily.

"I've just made a deal with them."

"To do what?" she asked suspiciously.

"To rid Britain of their foul presence now and forevermore! St Patrick, eat your heart out!" he declared grandly. He paused. "I see you're speechless. Not surprising, I don't think anyone's ever tried to do it before, they've mostly focused on trying to keep the disgusting things locked away as much as possible. Come on, I'll explain it to you on the way."

So saying he linked an arm with hers and led the stunned redhead towards Hogsmeade.

"The Dementors are unhappy in this country; they can't do what they want, can't eat what they want, can't go where they want, etc. So if I can find somewhere to put them that's far far away from any human being, then everyone wins, especially Magical Britain! And it permanently removes another potential ally for Dark Lords and such."

"And do you have a place like that in mind?"

He shrugged vaguely. "If worst comes to worst, I'll ask Lily Luna to use The Device to take them to the Precambrian Era or suchlike and leave them there. Or we seal up this pocket dimension in the deepest darkest vault we can find, ward it to hell and back, then dump the vault at the bottom of the Marinas Trench. Or send them to the Moon. I wonder if Sallie can turn them to stone? We'll think of something."

"Who's Sallie?"

"A friend." They reached the wardline, which Harry observed critically for a while. Extracting his wand, he cast a number of obscure charms.

"Hmmmmm. Definitely a necromantic ward here. Must be what keeps the Dementors trapped on the Hogwarts grounds. A novice like me can't break on through to the other side. I wonder if having the Dementors in an Enclosed Space would let us bypass the barrier instead. This sounds like a job for Science!"

"You've been hanging around Pandora waaaay too much."

"So says the girl who willingly became her lab partner for the HA and never looked back!"

"Yes, well, it's nice to spend time with someone so brilliant and non-linear. You never know what sparks will be generated. Plus it makes homework completion orders of magnitude faster."

Harry smiled. "I'm glad you two are getting on so well." He deliberately took several steps forward, then flinched and leaped backwards, as if he'd just suffered an electric shock. From inside his robe came a high-pitched wailing. The two students shielded their ears until it subsided. "Okay, that sure didn't work!" He paced around for a while thinking. Then, "Eureka! I bet they didn't ward the secret passages though!"

So saying, he turned and began to run towards the castle, Lily hurrying along behind him. Finding the statue of the one-eyed witch, Harry slipped behind it and made his way to the Honeydukes exit.

"So you know about this secret passage eh? Somehow that doesn't shock me."

"Doesn't everybody in school know about it?" Harry asked bewildered. "I mean, how else does the student body stay supplied with chocolate throughout the year?"

"It does explain why all the younger years are always so hyper," she agreed.

Harry suddenly stopped. "We're past the Hogwarts' wardlines now," pointing to the trapdoor that marked the entrance into the back room of the chocolatier. "And we made it without any trouble; thank Merlin for lazy Ministry officials!" Throwing his arms around her in a boisterous hug, he grinned happily.

"This is nice and all," Lily commented mildly. "But you can let me go now."

"Sure thing," he winked impishly, in a manner strongly reminiscent of another redhead. Then side-along apparated them.

"Wha … since when can you apparate?!" the surprised girl demanded.

"Since ages."

"This another one of those skills that 'Harry' person had?"

"You know what, I think it just might be."

"Enough chattering, you sarcastic bastard, and more explaining where we are."

They were standing on a rocky shoreline, nearby an old wooden jetty. In answer, Harry merely raised a finger and pointed out to the choppy wine-dark sea. "You can't see it, but Azkaban is in that direction, miles out there." He pulled out the bag again, and a single, seven-foot tall black shape drifted out.

Lily found herself shivering again.

"Camel and I are going to do our thing, and try to see if we can get all those Dementors out there in here. Hopefully it'll work – Camel says that Azkaban's Dementor wards extend all the way out to the coastline. So they can chase escapees all the way here, if the poor sods ever make it this far."

It really makes you realise how impressive Sirius' escape from Azkaban really was, the Otter mused. Breaking out of his cell, breaking out of the layers of bars and steel doors, breaking out of the main gates, then swimming 50 miles across stormy, sub-zero, Dementor-haunted ocean to make it to land. And then survive for another year subsisting as a dog on rubbish and rats.

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˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~ . ˂:3 )~~~~

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"This is like the setting from one of the gothic horror novels I used to devour when I was 13," Lily observed, looking around the giant cathedral within the Expanded Space bag. Several hundred Dementors milled around, poking into every room and crevice curiously. The atmosphere felt cold and thick. The sounds of clanking, rattling and hissing echoed in the vast empty spaces.

"It is every Dementor in the UK, all in one spot." Harry said with satisfaction. "Never thought this'd be a sight we'd ever see, eh? §Is this sufficient?§" he hissed.

§It will ssssuffice for the pressssent, until we reach our dessstination,§" one of the shadows hissed back.

§I intend to have my basssilisssk travel with you in thisss sssspace. Pleassse do not bother her; ssshe will be bunking in the rear chamber over there,§ Harry added. §Ssshe isss one of my alliesss and sssso isss off-limitsss.§

§Irrelevant,§ one of the witch-kings replied. §We cannot feed on non-human sssoulsss or emotionssss. Your ssssnake will remain unaffected by our aurassss.§

§Good. One other thing – behold, the Veil of Death from the DoM!§ Harry threw open one of the large, wooden doors. Beyond, in the small side-room, indeed stood the Veil of Death in all its sinister, ethereal grey and blue glory. §I have no idea if it will work, but for thossse of you who long to end your exissstence, it may be a meanssss for your ssssalvation. It isss at leassst worth a try, no?§

Harry and Lily had to hastily step aside as a sudden rush of Dementors hurried over to the room. The crowd jostled each other as they squeezed into the room and through the mysterious portal from whence nothing ever returned. Wave after wave followed them, each disappearing one by one, the arch giving a soft sighing noise every time. Soon there were 10 left, then five, then two, then one, then none. The two students waited for a few minutes, curious to see if anything would re-emerge. But their waiting was in vain: the arch was silent, the Veil was silent, nothing moved in the little room. Harry couldn't even hear the subtle whisperings that he'd heard that terrible time when Sirius had –

The remaining 100 or so Dementors offered no comment, and barely seemed interested in the fate of their fellows. Harry decided to leave the door open, in case any of the others decided later to take the plunge.

The two students silently exited the bag. Harry put it away. Harry apparated them both back to the Honeydukes secret passage. They stared at each other wordlessly for a while.

"Well," Lily eventually offered. "That happened."

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