Author's Note:
I've been discovering, oddly enough, that I have been more dissatisfied with other Fanfiction since actually following through on my effort to finish something. I've been writing my own original work for eleven years, and by the time I started writing Fanfiction in 2010, I had accumulated a great deal of experience and (I'd like to think) skill. I hadn't really realized how much of what my learning has enabled me to do, other writer's don't. It ends up motivating me to write more, because I can't find the suitable dramatic tension, and emotional satisfaction in other's writing, then doggone it, I'll make it myself.
Also reminds me of how dependent on the ability to go back and edit my work constantly I have become; there are some mistakes made in this fic, like Hermione telling McGonagall twice about Sirius' lack of trial, that never would have made it through if I'd been able to do that. It also didn't help that I dropped this project for about four months, before I picked it up again, continued work, and started publishing. Just a few thoughts for you lot out there.
Apologies in advance to anybody in the fields of study mentioned, I mean in my writing "understanding the basic concepts to some degree" with what I mention. I am well aware that these fields of study require prodigious time to even begin to master. I'm writing about getting the basics of at this time, not mastering.
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Chapter 7
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After all but a single duty-pair of Aurors guarding the first entrance of Azkaban had left the island, panic reigned in Azkaban, as staffers who had never expected to have to do much of anything realized their jobs were threatened. Panic, as it so often does, led to sloppiness, and when the Warden ordered a personal check of each individual prisoner, both that they were present, and their physical condition, one of the guards got too close to the bars of one of the cells.
By the time his corpse was found, Bellatrix Lestrange, with a new wand, was three miles off the shore of the island.
((()))
"As I said," Harry repeated, staring across the table at the Auror, Scrimgeour, "While I believe that Sirius Black is innocent, and he came to see me before leaving Britain, I was not on the island when he escaped, nor did I cast a single spell, or use my sword, or even fist, against the Aurors or any other prison staff, during his escape."
"And you did not inform us of his escape or visit, why?" Scrimgeour demanded, and Harry was quite certain the large man was trying to intimidate him.
"Because you have no just cause to pursue him, hold him, or especially order him kissed on sight by Dementors," Harry said, "And as I am not legally an adult, I was under no legal obligation to behave as one. Once your Aurors arrived at my residence to bring me in for questioning, which is illegal to do to a minor without a warrant by the way, I complied in order to get this nonsense out of the way."
Scrimgeour was silent for some time, simply glaring at Harry in a blatant attempt at intimidation. Harry completely ignored it; he had met Amelia Bones, and she was more intimidating than her successor without even needing to try.
"Is there something else?" Harry asked, eventually, his tone as blandly courteous as ever, "Or can I go?"
Scrimgeour's eyes narrowed, and Harry immediately recognized that the man would not be willing to let Harry leave until he felt he had asserted his dominance; he had seen the exact same expression on his Uncle's face more times than he cared to remember. Harry knew that it would be easier to pretend to be cowed before the man, to let him show dominance, and pretend submission. He knew that as the new head of the DMLE he had a great deal of ability to make things difficult for Harry, especially with how corrupt the ministry was.
But Harry found he was simply unwilling to allow the man even the illusion that he was in the right, or in control.
"Look boy," Scrimgeour growled, "If you know what's good for you-"
"What?" Harry said, his voice sharp, "You'll slap me with charges? I've answered all your questions truthfully, and am more than willing to submit my testimony under truth serum, but if you do, you'll find my solicitor on hand with another series of questions that you don't want answered. You've got nothing on me, and you won't have anything on me either. Since I found out that my Godfather was illegally imprisoned, I've studied what passes for the law in this land, and-"
"Now see here!" Scrimgeour bellowed over Harry, lurching upright and reaching for his wand, "I will not be talked to-"
He was cut off by the table that had sat between them slamming into his gut, doubling him over under the force of the blow, and completely unprepared for the disarming hex that struck him, depriving him of his wand. Harry swiftly moved back out of his chair, his own wand in one hand, Scrimgeour's in the other, using Scrimgeour's to open the door behind him.
"The Daily Prophet will be hearing about how the head of the DMLE attacked a twelve-year old child," Harry said as he left the room, "It'll probably be front page tomorrow. I hope you enjoyed your time in office, Scrimgeour, it is going to be brief."
Harry stepped out of the room, his wand still trained on Scrimgeour as the man held his gut, gasping for breath. Once he was out of the room, Harry shut the door, then after glancing up and down the corridor and finding no one else present, silently sealed the door shut with Scrimgeour's wand, timing it to open in six hours if no one took the spell down earlier. Then he set off to look for Auror Tonks.
He found her, and most the rest of the Auror force, on lunch break in one of the cafeterias in the Ministry of Magic, eating with Hestia Jones and Emmaline Vance in a corner of the cafeteria. He approached them quietly, doing his best not to draw attention.
"Auror's Tonks, Jones, Vance," Harry said, too quietly for anyone else in the cafeteria to hear, "I'm afraid I have to report that I have been attacked by Rufus Scrimgeour."
The three stared at him in disbelief for a moment, until Harry placed Scrimgeour's wand on the table.
"Blimey Harry," Tonks said, "He really did, didn't he?"
"Yes," Harry said, "I sealed him in the room he was interrogating me in."
"Right," Emmaline Vance said, standing as she spoke, also keeping her voice low enough to avoid drawing attention from the others, "We should go somewhere else, we're going to have to record your account of what happened, Mister Potter."
Harry nodded, and after the other two women stood, followed the Aurors out of the room.
((()))
Harry sat alone in his room at Privet Drive. His encounter with Scrimgeour had confirmed everything he had thought of the Ministry, and then some. They were corrupt not just to the core, but almost completely comprehensively on ever level above entry-level positions. The clerks and Aurors he'd seen were straightforward enough, if not particularly driven in their work, and Tonks and her compatriots were blatantly honest, but he could tell by the way they moved around the other Aurors, that some were certainly more trustworthy than others.
And they were all incompetent to wage a war, something Harry was not even remotely upset about. They had no combat mentality; they thought only of, and about, magic, when it came to fighting, and consequently focused almost exclusively on 'wands' and the dueling philosophies that stemmed from formalized wand-duels. Like all forms of combat that had been ritualized into mere sports, it was something Harry was certain Sun Tzu would have approved of him seeding amongst his enemies. That they had propagated such 'knowledge' themselves…
In a way, Harry was glad that despite his very unpleasant childhood, he still had found himself unwilling to kill the first time he had been in a position to readily do so; with the means he had available, Harry had very little doubt he could slay most, if not all, of Wizarding Britain if he desired to do so. And considering how corrupt most of the government was, he could see justification for killing a lot of people. He had also learned just how angry he was with the wizarding government in general, and Albus Dumbledore and Cornelius Fudge in particular.
At first, he had expected Fudge to be taking bribes from Malfoy, but the man didn't even have the excuse of being corrupt, he was just that incompetent. The fact that not only had he become Minister, but that he still held the title, and had successfully sacked Amelia Bones for threatening to follow the law, told him all he needed to know about how insanely corrupt those who put him in power in the first place were.
Normally, Harry would be appalled at the sheer incompetence of the Ministry of Magic, but considering how corrupt they were, he figured it was just as well. He began to seriously consider planning his life around leaving England after he had taken his OWLs, rather than waiting for his NEWTs.
((()))
"This is terrible!" Fudge breathed, half-panicked, "Sirius Black, on the loose! Bellatrix Lestrange! What will we do Lucius?"
Lucius Malfoy found that his desire to sneer at the gibbering man in front of him was entirely overruled by his deep satisfaction that the man's first instinct was to look to him for guidance. Malfoy had not arranged for Cornelius Fudge to become the Minister of Magic; but he did not think he could have found a better puppet if he had tried.
"Well, Cornelius," Malfoy said in a calm, reassuring tone, "Clearly we need to raise more concerns about public security, especially after how Scrimgeour disgraced himself. I've a few names in mind for who may make a suitable new head for the DMLE, and then perhaps we should expand the Auror and Hitwizard corps…"
((()))
"Hello, Uncle George," Hermione said, smiling at the graying man in the lab coat.
"Good morning, m'dear," The older Granger said, before gesturing grandly to the laboratory behind him, "And welcome to the realm, of Science!"
Hermione placed a hand over her mouth to hide her smile.
"Now," George Granger said, stepping towards an electron microscope, "It is time for you to enter the dynamic world of Particle Physics!"
((()))
Minerva McGonagall stepped into what would very soon stop being Albus Dumbledore's office, and begin being hers.
"Hello Minerva," Dumbledore said with a smile, as he directed his array of silver instruments into a trunk with his wand, "It's good to see you."
"And you Albus," McGonagall said, "While I do believe it appropriate your time as Headmaster end, you have given this school many excellent years of service."
Dumbledore smiled at her again for a few moments, before his expression became much more serious.
"Before I leave, Minerva," He said, "Have a seat. There are a few things I believe I should tell you, since I will no longer be in a position to watch over Harry myself."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, but seated herself, and waited.
"The first," Dumbledore said, "Involves a Prophecy made thirteen years ago…"
((()))
"And now," George Granger said, looking at Hermione somewhat oddly, "Since you have successfully mastered the basic concepts of Particle Physics in, er, three days…" He trailed off for a moment to stare at her before continuing abruptly, and loudly, "Now on to the engaging field of Materials Engineering!"
((()))
McGonagall simply stared at Dumbledore.
"The power of love?" She asked incredulously, "After you sent him to the Dursleys? Albus, I know things were very different in the century of your birth, but you have clearly lost your understanding of the minds and hearts of children."
"I would object," Dumbledore said gravely, "But I no longer trust my perspective on such things; hence my retirement. There is more, however."
He pulled out a diary that had been neatly sliced in two, and opened it to display the name of the owner; Tom Marvolo Riddle.
"It is time," Dumbledore said, "That I tell you what I have been able to gather of the story of the young man who came to call himself Voldemort."
((()))
Dobby stared at Harry.
Harry stared at Dobby.
Harry shifted slightly on his bed, and stared at Dobby.
Dobby shifted his weight from his left foot to his right foot, the boards underneath him creaking slightly, and stared at Harry.
((()))
"You do realize, Albus," McGonagall said, "Just how much Harry's story has come to resemble Riddle's, and this time it was due to your action, rather than inaction?"
Dumbledore nodded sadly.
"In my time," Dumbledore said sadly, "Though discipline could be harsh, outright abuse such as Harry received was utterly unthinkable in any kind of respectable family. It simply did not occur to me that a family that produced Lily Evans, could produce a woman capable of such petty viciousness as Petunia Dursley."
McGonagall sighed, and rubbed her temples to fight the frustration-originated headache that had begun to plague her.
"Petunia Evans is shaping into a fine woman," McGonagall said, "Petunia Dursley was a malignant shrew. That aside, what do you intend to do about this Horcrux in Harry's scar?"
"That," Dumbledore said, "Is one problem I have not yet been able to calculate a solution to. Nothing I have been able to think of to destroy it, would not also result in Harry's death. Perhaps you will bring a fresh perspective to the problem, and be able to find a solution for Harry's sake yourself."
"Perhaps," McGonagall said, "We shall see. Why, if I may ask, have you informed Harry of neither the Prophecy, nor the Horcrux in his scar before?"
"I would hate to burden young Harry with such terrible truths before his majority," Dumbledore said, "Unless Voldemort somehow becomes possessed of a new body, or otherwise becomes a threat, my intention is to tell him when he reached adulthood."
McGonagall sighed again, and closed her eyes.
"Albus," She said, "If you could leave your Pensieve here for a time, I would appreciate the use of it to aid in sorting and dealing with new thoughts."
"But of course Minerva," He said, and she could hear his cheery smile, "There's one other thing I need to tell you about, a much happier matter. I've been negotiating for several years now, and if you're willing to continue, it should be all but a done deal, to revive an old event called the Tri-Wizard Tournament…"
((()))
Harry stared at Dobby, slowly leaning to his left, changing the angle of his perspective on the eccentric house-elf.
Dobby stared at Harry, tilting his head to the side at an angle mirroring Harry's leaning form.
((()))
"Mum," Dudley said, and a tired Petunia Evans raised her eyes to look across the kitchen table at him. Dudley's face was unusually grave.
"Yes, Dudley dear?" She asked.
"Why did dad do all those things?"
Petunia sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her face with her hands.
"In the end," Petunia said sadly, "Vernon felt he was entitled to certain things, and that if he was not given such things, it was either his right to take them, or to punish those around him for failing to provide them. If you think about it, before he went to prison he, and to a lesser degree I, was raising you to think the same way."
Dudley nodded, brow furrowed in concentration, and it was some time before he spoke again.
"You already told me why you did what you did back then," He said, "But why do you do what you do now?"
"Well," Petunia said, with a small, strained smile, "Two reasons. The first one that motivated me, was fear of my sister, Harry's mother. What drives me now, though, is something Lily and I's parents taught us a long time ago: 'Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'"
"The Golden Rule," Dudley said, nodding.
"Yes," Petunia said, "I just wish I hadn't forgotten it for ten years."
Dudley nodded, then wandered back to his room to think over what his mother had told him.
((()))
Dobby looked away.
"You," Harry said, rubbing his sore eyes, "Are a very strong-willed being. Why do you wish to serve me, rather than be independent?"
"House elves is needing a family to look after," Dobby said, "Our healths is tied into the healths of the family, and Harry Potter's family was being a very good family before they died. Harry Potter is building a strong family now."
Harry thought on this for some time before speaking.
"Very well, Dobby," He said, "I will accept you into my service, but you must tell me if you wish to be released from it."
"Thank you Great Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby said, jumping up and down excitedly, "What will be being Dobby's first task?"
Harry thought for a few moments, before standing and walking over to his desk.
"I don't suppose you can purchase things from the non-magical world?" He asked.
"Of courses!" Dobby said, "All Wizard families is buying their food from muggles!"
Harry nodded, acquiring appropriate implements, then writing out a list of items.
"I need you to find me the cheapest cost you can for these products, of reliable functional quality," Harry said, handing the list to Dobby.
"At once!" Dobby said, taking the list and disappearing with a sharp crack.
Harry nodded, and turned his attention to the metal box that he had acquired during first year. Hopefully, he would have it open soon. Turning his attention to more immediate things, Harry sat down at his desk, and began composing a response to Hermione's latest letter, inquiring about a visit.
((()))
"And now!" George Granger said, staring intently at Hermione as he spoke, "That you have covered the basics of Materials Engineering in three weeks," He took a deep breath, before continuing in a near-shout, "We will move into Nuclear Physics!"
Spinning around, he started walking across the lab towards a work area Hermione had not been allowed to touch before.
"FOR SCIENCE!" He shouted, and Hermione could barely keep herself from dissolving into giggles.
((()))
"You asked to see me, Prof," Harry cut himself off as he entered her new office, before restarting his form of address, "Headmistress McGonagall?"
"Yes, Harry," McGonagall said, looking over at him from where she had been arranging a number of books on the shelf that had formerly hosted Dumbledore's silver instruments, "Albus decided to disclose a number of things to me before departing the school, which I believe you have a right to know. Are you familiar with how a Penesieve functions?"
"No," Harry replied, "I have seen mention of them in a few books, but nothing in detail."
"Well," McGonagall said, moving across the office to her new, large, desk, "They are used to store and review memories."
McGonagall extracted a sizeable stone bowl from one of the desk's drawers, and carefully placed it on top of the desk.
"One can fill it either with the original, or a copy of a memory, depending on if they desire to keep the memory in their head at the same time," McGonagall said, withdrawing her wand and placing the tip to her temple, "Like so."
She pulled a long silvery strand of memory from her temple, and deposited it within the stone bowl.
"There is, of course, a good deal more than simple wand motion involved; it requires some skill in Occlumency to properly sort and prepare the memory to be withdrawn, and something of a knack for getting the memory to adhere to your wand. The method of memory extraction aside, however, this is the memory I wish to show you. You activate the Pensieve by sticking your head into it."
Harry raised an eyebrow at the activation method, but after a moment's hesitation, stuck his head into the Pensieve.
((()))
"In summary, Mister Black," The American official said, "We are more than willing to grant you Amnesty and a legitimate trial, you must, however, abdicate your title as Lord Black."
Sirius blinked, staring across the conference room at the official, clerk, and guard that occupied the room with him.
"I'm Lord Black?" He said, clearly surprised, "I suppose that means my bitch of a mother is dead?"
The American official raised an eye at his words, but nodded.
"Of course I'll abdicate," Sirius said, "Never wanted the ruddy thing anyways. I'll just need to make sure the right person ends up with the title, I've got some unpleasant relatives that might stand to inherit."
All three of the Americans sitting across from him smiled.
((()))
Harry withdrew his head from the Pensieve and sat back in his chair, posture precise, jaw slightly tense, eyes closed, breathing even and exceedingly regular. McGonagall could immediately tell that he was furious. Several long minutes of silence passed while McGonagall simply watched Harry Potter struggle with his rage. Eventually, he spoke.
"I assume," He said quietly, absolutely none of the anger that trembled through his body leaking into his voice, "That you would object to me killing Snape."
"Yes," McGonagall said, "You are not quite thirteen, but it would still be unwise to give Fudge and Malfoy the opportunity to bring murder charges against you."
"You are not going to protest for his sake?" Harry asked, a tinge of surprise creeping into his voice and body language."
"The man was a death eater," McGonagall said, "I know the sorts of things men were required to do to prove themselves 'worthy' of the mark. His execrable behavior as an 'educator' shows that if he is 'reformed' at all, it is not by very much. Personally, I think Albus pushing him into a profession he detested in a location filled with ugly memories did nothing to help the situation."
Harry was silent, still warring with his anger internally.
"I assume," Harry eventually said, "Knowing what you now do, that you will be terminating his employment at Hogwarts?"
"I was planning on ending his employment before I learned of his complicity in your parent's death," McGonagall said, "It will, in fact be my first official act as Headmistress."
Harry nodded sharply, standing and moving to the door.
"Thank you for informing me of these things, Headmistress McGonagall," He said, "I need time to process these things now though."
"I wish you well in your ruminations," McGonagall said, nodding to Harry as he left, then returning the memory to her head.
((()))
Appearing in midair over the North Sea, Harry Potter screamed. Magic augmented his voice, and with a flat crack his scream caused a sonic shockwave, displacing the clouds around him. Tightly leashed magical energies surged in his clenched fists as he plummeted through the sky; he pulled one fist back, then hurled it downward, instinctively shaping a blasting curse as he did so. Screaming again, this time hurling a more forceful concussive wave beneath him, rather than all about, he pulled back his other fist, and repeated the gesture and spell.
Again, and again, and again and again and again, Harry screamed and hurled his rage at the empty ocean beneath him, curse after curse strung together as he hit terminal velocity, the curses scarcely moving faster than he was. Just as the first of the string of curses struck the surface of the ocean beneath him, he Apparated again, disappearing with a sharp crack, and reappearing where he had started, facing upward as his momentum was redirected upwards rather than downwards. A now-instinctive part of Harry's brain triggered the switch between blasting curses and fire spells, as even in a fit of incoherent rage he strove to continue his rising mastery of a broad range of wandless spells.
Flame erupted at his hands, hot, red, blazing out into the sky as the heat of his anger transformed via magical will into a very literal heat, spreading in a long, sharp arc as the momentum he had gained in his fall was gradually bled off, countered, and then he began to fall again. As his descent began anew, he focused more and more flame into his hands, focusing on intensity of heat rather than simple volume of fire, and his descent left a pair of blazing light trails in the sky.
Then, as he neared the surface of the ocean again, and the white heat of the flames began to drain his magical barrier to near depletion, he hurled the flames before him, and Apparated to the sky once more to watch the effects of his rage, deftly unshrinking and mounting his broom to provide a stable watching platform. The waters of the North Sea, still churning from his initial bombardment of blasting spells, swallowed the flames whole, over a thousand gallons of water flash-boiling to steam near instantly to soak the heat of Harry's anger, the air screaming as the surface pressure of the water skyrocketed and a massive gout of steam rose over the ocean.
Harry's face, impassive but hard now, remained trained upon the geyser of steam and waves of water as he gracefully backed away from the rising column of superheated water and air. The sea, however, was far too massive to bear the marks of his rage for long, and within five minutes, all that remained to mark his anger was a small flotilla of dead fish, boiled to death by the sudden heat in the water.
By the time an Auror team showed up half an hour later, he was long gone.
((()))
"Severus," McGonagall said, and Severus Snape looked up from the potions text he was perusing in the library.
"Yes, Minerva?" He said, somewhat wary.
"I have here," She said, holding up a sealed envelope, "A letter of recommendation for you as a Potions Master that I have endorsed, and recommend you use wherever you next seek employment. You are a highly skilled Potions Master, and it is only your due."
Snape waited for the other shoe to drop.
"I have here," McGonagall said, holding up a rather thick roll of parchment, "A list of names including former colleagues, former superiors, former employees, friends, and many, many former students, all of which I will visit in person and request to black list you should you ever seek employment as an instructor of children ever again. If adults wish to seek your services as a tutor, that is entirely their own business. You may consider yourself dismissed from the service of Hogwarts; you will be permitted to stay in your current quarters until the end of July."
With that, she placed the letter of recommendation on the table in front of him, turned and left the library. Snape waited thoughtfully for a few minutes, then stood, tucked the letter into his robes, and left for his quarters, compiling a list of potential backers for his private Potions research.
((()))
Harry sat up abruptly in his bed, rapidly blinking away the fog of sleep. He very quickly realized what had woken him in the dead of the night: There was a house-elf on his bed.
"Dobby is finished finding prices, Master Harry!" Dobby said, "Dobby is finding the torches and canisterses and pipings in three different junkyards in four different countries, costing The Great Harry Potter Sir six sickles and two knuts once all the money changings has been doned."
Harry blinked again, not quite sure he was processing that properly.
"In three different junkyards, in four different countries?" He asked, disbelief edging slightly into his voice.
"Yes Master Harry!" Dobby said, "It is being so!"
Harry thought for a moment, and decided it was too early in the morning to deal with these particular eccentricities on the part of the House Elf.
"Here," He said, collecting six sickles and handing them to the excitable House-Elf, "Go ahead and purchase them for me, and please place them down in the garage.
"Yes Great Harry Potter Sir!" Dobby said, and disappeared with a pop.
Harry shook his head slightly, then rolled over to try to get back to sleep.
((()))
The next morning, Harry went down to the garage to inspect his new equipment, and after probing it with his magic, found it to be in working order, if more than a little aged. He was quite impressed with the sheer distance Dobby must have gone to in order to find the equipment, as some was clearly of Russian manufacture, some of Japanese, some American, and some he did not even recognize the alphabet used in its labeling.
"Dobby," He said quietly, and the House Elf appeared with a pop at his side.
"Yes, Harry Potter Sir?" Dobby said.
"You were able to purchase all of this for six sickles and two knuts?" Harry asked.
Dobby nodded enthusiastically, smiling up at Harry as he did so.
"I think," Harry said, "I may have some other purchases I wish for you to make.
((()))
Harry opened the front door of Privet Drive, to see a bushy-haired brunette standing on the front step.
"Hullo Harry," Hermione said, and promptly wrapped him in a hug, "How are you?"
"Mph," Harry replied from his position squashed against the taller girl, reaching out and cautiously hugging the girl back, "Mph mph."
"Sorry Harry," Hermione said, stepping back and allowing the boy freedom to speak again, "I'm just so happy to see you!"
"Quite," Harry said drolly, causing Hermione's smile to widen, "And as to my condition, it is quite good. And yours?"
Hermione smiled brilliantly, as Harry reached down to lift her modest travel case, and escorted her in, clearing the way for her mother to follow them in.
"Oh, it's been brilliant," Hermione said happily, "I've been working with Uncle George at his laboratories, and we've been working with Materials Science and Nuclear Physics, it's so exciting, and…"
Harry did not notice the soft smile that made its way across his features as he listened to his friend describe her summer thus far, and Hermione's mother entered the house to speak with his aunt. The three females, however, did.
((()))
Hermione Granger had never stayed over at a friend's house for so much as a single night before, much less a week, and found it to, on the whole, be an intriguing experience. The house's furniture and decor itself was simple, but functional, and judging by pictures she'd seen around the house from both before, and after, Vernon had been sent to prison, it was now very deliberately so. Petunia Evans, as mistress of the house, was very efficient, and dealt with both Harry and her son with a practiced deliberateness; keeping her son in tight discipline, and mostly leaving Harry to his own devices.
Dudley Dursley was a studiously polite boy, calling her and Harry to meal times, always pulling her chair back for her, and offering to show her around the neighborhood. She could tell that he would grow into a handsome young man, and if he maintained his habitual courtesy, many girls would be interested in courting him.
Harry Potter, on the other hand…
Hermione had only her memories of the month and change during first year they had both still been attending Hogwarts, and what she remembered of that time was mostly his obsessive study and research habits. Here, at Privet Drive, where underage magic was illegal, and he had no magical library to consult, she found his study habits considerably altered. Aside from the hour or two spent each day eating and engaging in household chores, he spent almost every waking hour working to improve his mastery of magic, and survival skills.
Hermione followed Harry to his three two hour sessions at a local dojo during that week, where a stout Asian man taught Harry how to wield a shortsword. He spent, on average, two hours each day in the local parks, forests, and fields, identifying plants and animals, and harvesting portions of edible ones, which he would later prepare with salt or other preservatives, and formed his (and her) lunch each day, as well as serving as any necessary snacks. She sat in his room, continuing her own studies, as he worked runes in simple stone sheets with his own blood; he wasn't as far along in his studies with Ancient Runes as she was, but he was attempting to move directly into the practical aspects of enchanting with them, something she had hardly even touched on herself. Hermione was also more than happy to help him with his Potions practice, an area where her skills far outstripped his, largely because it was an entirely methodical discipline, something that suited Hermione perfectly. Harry was only working on mastering a limited number of potions that she recognized as very useful for, unsurprisingly, survival purposes, but they were well above the level of a second year's typical material.
What surprised her the most, however, was what he was doing with the only form of active magic that he seemed to be able to perform over the Summer without drawing the ministry's attention: Apparition. Hermione sat in Harry's room with him, quietly working through her own study material, as he spent hour upon hour upon hour, at least four every day she was there, practicing Apparition. He would sit on his bed, then teleport from one end of it to another, sometimes nearly falling off half-way over the edge. He would stand in one place, and appear in another, facing a different direction. He would leap across the room, disappearing in mid-leap, re-appearing and landing, sometimes poorly, sometimes well.
And sometimes he would simply Apparate from one side of the room to the other and back again, and again, and again, and again, more and more quickly, to no end that she could perceive. It was this particular activity that finally broke her patience, and pushed her to ask him just what he was doing.
"Harry," She asked when he was taking a breather between spurts of Apparition, "What are you doing with all this jumping around?"
"Mobility, Hermione," Harry said, sitting on his bed, and facing her as she sat at her desk, "Apparition allows instantaneous travel to anywhere within a range dependent upon the user's power, and causes an amount of magical fatigue proportionate to the distance traveled. Apparition preserves momentum, but not direction; and as best I can tell, the only limitation on how swiftly one can Apparate, is how quickly one can muster the necessary focus and exert the magical energy. Mobility, Hermione, wins wars. If I can master Apparition to a sufficient degree, then I will automatically win any fight in an area not warded against Apparition, so long as I am not caught completely unawares."
Hermione thought for some time before responding.
"Harry," She eventually said, "Is everything you do oriented around fighting and survival?"
"Yes," Harry said, "There can be no freedom without strength."
"I'll need to think about that," Hermione said quietly; Harry nodded, and returned to his practice.
((()))
"Harry," Hermione said softly, and Harry turned to look at her.
In Harry's opinion, she had displayed an admirable amount of stealth for someone so utterly inexperienced with such things, but he had been awake and aware of her the moment she began to open the door to slip into his room.
"Yes, Hermione?" Harry responded quietly.
"Can we talk?" She asked.
Harry glanced at his clock, which read 1 AM, and nodded.
"Harry," Hermione said, pausing for a moment then continuing all in a rush, "You practice for fighting and survival for your freedom, but what do you intend to do with freedom?"
Harry had no ready response for the question, so he simply lay there, thinking.
"Aside from continuing to build strength," Harry said, "I intend to fight bullies and tyrants where I find them. I assume you are enquiring as to beyond that?"
Hermione nodded, which Harry could barely see in the dark room.
"I don't really know," Harry said honestly, "The only thing I had before my fight for freedom, was trying to win the Dursley's approval. I'm not going back to that."
Hermione quietly crossed the room, and bent over to wrap Harry in a hug. Closing his eyes, and glad that the lack of light hid the pain on his face, Harry returned the hug silently.
"I wish this week weren't already over," Hermione said quietly, "But next time we visit, maybe we can find something fun to do together?"
"I'd like that," Harry said thickly.
Hermione flopped down onto his bed beside him, and held him as he silently cried; come morning when he woke up, she was still holding him.
((()))
The next day, after Hermione had left, Harry went down to the garage, and tested the welding/cutting equipment Dobby had acquired for him. After familiarizing himself with its operation to his satisfaction, he went into the back yard, and dug up the box he had concealed there more than a year before. Shaking it around carefully, he settled the single audible object in the bottom front left corner, then angled it so the bottom back right corner was at the lowest point, and fired up the cutting torch.
Two minutes later, he had cut a fist-sized hole in the lead box, and began dousing it with water from the hose. Once it was sufficiently cooled to no longer be a danger to the box's contents, he carefully shook the box, and a small red stone dropped out.
"Now," Harry said, "What's this?"
((()))
"WELL THEN!" George Granger roared, "As you have MASTERED the fundamentals of NUCLEAR PHYSICS in a mere TWO MONTHS!
"Excuse me Uncle George," Hermione cut in, and the man froze in place, his posture and bearing suddenly shifting to that of an attentive adult.
"Yes dear?" He asked calmly.
"Well," Hermione said, "Before we go any further, I realized I should probably let you know about some of my other fields of study," She waved towards the door to the lab, and an apparently youthful woman stepped in, smiling.
"This is my tutor," Hermione said, "Misses Andromeda Tonks, and she'll explain a few things to you about Transfiguration…"
((()))
Sirius Black looked over the form one last time, before signing it with a grin, and handing it over to the lawyer seated across from him. The lawyer spent a few minutes studying it, before nodding at the American official standing at the door, then tucking it into his briefcase.
"Well, Mister Black," The Official said, "It is my pleasure to welcome you to Magical America. I hope you enjoy your stay."
"Oh," Sirius said, "I will, I can promise you that."
((()))
Hermione had begun to worry at the mad grin slowly growing on her uncle's face, and the mad laughter that erupted when Andromeda Tonks finished her explanation quite nearly scared her.
"THERE WILL BE!" Geroge Granger shouted, "SO MUCH SCIENCE!"
And then Andromeda stunned him.
"Is he always this… excitable?" She asked hesitantly.
Hermione just nodded sadly. There was a reason she was hesitant to work with Uncle George…
((()))
"Good morning, Mister Potter," McGonagall said, smiling at Harry.
"Good Morning Professor McGonagall," Harry said smiling slightly, stepping back from the door, "Please come in."
"Thank you Harry," McGonagall said, counting the small smile as another small victory.
A few moments later, seated in the living room with tea and biscuits from Petunia, McGonagall addressed Harry again.
"Harry," She said, "I've come here for two reasons. The first is to inform you that Hyacinth and David Granger have agreed to Hermione attending Hogwarts three days out of the week this coming year."
Harry's eyebrows went up in surprise at that, and another small smile edged onto his face, though he didn't notice it himself.
"The second," McGonagall continued, smiling herself, "Was to inquire if you would be interested in me teaching you the Animagus Transformation this coming year?"
This time, Harry noticed his own smile, it was simply too large to miss.
((()))
"He will conquer who has learnt the artifice of deviation. Such is the art of maneuvering."
-Sun Tzu, Art of War, Chapter 6, Section 30
End Chapter 7.
((()))
AN: I'll be timeskipping the entirety of third year. There are some plot relevant things that'll be taking place there, but frankly, I want to keep them secret. So there!
Also, I have mentioned that there will be a sequel; be warned, the sequel will not be following promptly on the heels of this project. I intend to focus more on my original work again for a time, and the sequel is going to be a much broader-focus story, which I will need to spend a lot of time firming up the background for before I start posting it. Larger, more complex plots have too much potential for inconsistency if they're not handled carefully.
George Granger's character may, possibly have been ever so slightly influenced by all the Youtube videos of Cave Johnson my Beta, Provost Zakharov (who accused me of using a shady comma and a rogue comma in this chapter), has gotten me to watch lately. Maybe. COMBUSTIBLE LEMONS!