A/N: Review responses are in my forums as always.

Chapter Thirty-Four: Hogsmeade Weekend

Harry opened bleary, tired eyes. "What?" he growled.

"Hogsmeade Weekend, mate," Neville said. "You coming?"

The fourth years spent two hours after dinner sitting yet another of the Muggle GCSE exams, this time in trigonometry, and by the time the test was over Harry could barely see. He sat up and rubbed his face before reaching for his glasses, only to find Neville holding them out for him. "Thanks."

"So how do you think you did?"

"Fine," Harry said.

According to Hermione, Muggles normally took as long as two years to get through the entire GCSE process. At Hogwarts, they had one semester, a semester that for Harry as the only Fourth Year on the Quidditch Team was made twice as difficult. Fortunately, the other professors took pity on the Fourth Years, reducing the amount of out-of class work significantly.

The exception, of course, was Snape, who had a look of sadistic glee on his face when he assigned absurdly long essays in every class.

"You know," Harry said, "I'm not sure I want to go. I think I just want to lie in bed and vegetate for a while."

"Sorry, mate," Neville said, "we're vetoing that idea."

Behind him, Ron appeared. "This is the first Hogsmeade weekend this year when you aren't either playing Quidditch or practising Quidditch," the red-head declared. "No strength training, no homework, thank Merlin. Cor blimey, Harry, it's a wonder your head's still screwed on right."

"So you're coming," Neville said. "Go take a shower, you stink. We'll grab some breakfast for you and eat on the way."

"I hate you," Harry said sincerely. "I hate you both."

Ron laughed, while Neville ripped the blankets off Harry, exposing him to the cruel, biting cold of early March in Scotland.

Half an hour later, bundled up in a fleece, scarf and a raincoat that Dudley received from a friend of Aunt Marge's which didn't fit the stout boy, Harry and his roommates braved the cold wind and rain of a late Scottish winter day and boarded a carriage for Hogsmeade.

The rain broke once they reached the village, though the wind picked up in its place. Still, Harry was layered sufficiently with clothing and warming charms not to mind too badly as they made their way through the village. The school commissary had essential items such as quills, parchment, ink and other supplies, but it was just more fun to shop in the village, and given the lack of Hogsmeade opportunities this year, Harry took advantage of the opportunity to pick up clothes for the summer. He had not counted on his relatives to buy clothes for him since his first trip to Diagon Alley.

Given his recent experiences, he also dropped by the book sellers and picked up an interesting volume on the International Confederation of Wizards, which also had details of each member ministry and a list of those nations or regions that were not members. He also looked for anything on American history, since the Hogwarts library had nothing about the Americas, but couldn't seem to find anything.

"What'chyer looking fer, lad?"

Harry almost jumped out of his shoes at the voice that spoke right in his ear. He spun about to find a wizened, bent old man staring up at him through incredibly thick, almost spherical glasses that expanded his rheumy eyes to the a size approaching that of his actual head. "Er, sorry, just looking."

"Well, yes, 'could see that, I'm not blind yer know," the ancient man said with a cackle. "Not yet, no how. Yer lookin' for something, but yer' not find it. So what'chyer looking for?"

"Well, I was looking for something about America. I mean, about their civil war?"

The man blinked behind his glasses before grinning. For some reason, Harry expected a dirty, gap-tooth grin, but of course magic tended to protect the body. The man's teeth were perfect and even. "Which one?"

"Wait, what? I thought America only had the one civil war. That's what they taught in primary."

The old man cackled again. "Lad, those Americans hae bin fightin' each other loch radge. A man is a lion for his ain cause, they say. But those books are proscribed. Ye cannae hae them."

Harry stared in shock. "Proscribed? Why would books about America be proscribed?"

"Why, 'cause He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, 'course," the old wizard said. "He supported th' Western Confeds, he did. Before things got violent, back in th' Seventies, he wrote articles callin' fur Englain tae adopt the' same government. The Wizengamot called t' hae him arrested. Treason, they named it. Things got bloody after that."

"And so they banned the books?" Harry said. "That's stupid."

"Lad, to the likes o' them, ideas can be mair radge than wands. So, let's ring ye up, shall we?"

Harry left the store after the old man rang up his books and placed them in a bag for him, smiling behind his thick glasses the whole time. Harry nodded his thanks before joining his friends at the Three Broomsticks Inn.

The three of them were coming out of the inn when they heard loud voices shouting. Curious, Harry led the other boys further down the street where they saw three older witches, one of whom might have been a century or more, casting low-level but painful hexes at a student in Gryffindor robes.

"Merlin's balls, is that Hermione?" Ron asked, gaping.

Harry saw to his shock that it was Hermione, who was crying even as she tried to defend herself with a shield charm Professor Lupin taught them just earlier that year. Without hesitation, Harry handed his bag to Ron and ran to the altercation, as angry at the unmoving onlookers as he was at the three witches attacking Hermione.

Harry jumped in between Hermione and the other three witches and raised his own shield, shouting the spell since he did not know how to cast silently yet. The shield snapped into place with a white glow, absorbing the magic of the other witches. "Leave her alone!" he shouted at them.

"Impertinence!" one of the witches shouted.

"Proof it is, the bint has bespelled heem, th' coo!" a second shouted.

"Better she be dead now," the third said grimly, raising her wand.

Fury and fear surged through Harry's wand. He shouted "Stupefy!" and poured every bit of magic he had into it. He did not expect the two things that happened next: a wall of red magic slammed into the three witches, blowing them back into the air and the silent, watching crowds.

And then his wand broke with an explosive Crack. There was no heat or pain, the wand just shattered, as if from a small bomb within it. He stared at the wand in shock, while the onlookers all shouted in dismay.

"Harry," Hermione said behind him, "come on, we need to go."

"But my wand…"

"We need to go now, Harry," she insisted. She grabbed his hand, and through the touch he could feel her absolute, overwhelming terror not just at being attacked, but at him breaking his wand.

The terror alone was enough to convince him to go with her, while the villagers mumbled and stared at Harry darkly. They reached Ron and Neville, both of whom were pale. "Blimey, what happened?" Ron asked.

"Harry broke his wand," Hermione said. She had not let go of Harry's hand yet and continued to drag him toward the carriages.

"He stepped on it or something?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron," Hermione snapped without looking back, "he shattered it with magic. He overloaded his wand, and now…" She stopped abruptly, sobbed once and then wiped her face. "We'll talk later. For now let's get back to Hogwarts."

"I still don't get what the big deal is," Ron said as he trotted along behind them.

Neville, though, was staring at Harry with wide eyes. "Harry, did you really?"

Harry held up his so both boys could see, while Hermione tugged his hand. "Boys!" she said, "We need to get back to Hogwarts now!"

She was almost running now, forcing the other three to trot to keep up, until they reached one of the waiting carriages. She climbed in on her own and sat down, covering her face in her hands while the three subdued boys climbed in behind her. At the front, the Thestral whinnied an inquiry on why they were back so early.

Harry whinnied back without thought, asking to return home quickly. There were no words, per se, since Thestrals communicated more by translated ideas than specific words. "I'll never get used to that," Ron said, right before the Thestral kicked into motion, sending the red-head to the floor of the carriage and forcing the others to grab at the rails.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I told her we were in a hurry."

Indeed, the carriage sped through the forest at speeds approaching that of a Muggle auto. Only the cushioning charms on the wagon kept them from flying out. "So can someone tell me what's really happening?" Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head and wiped away the last of her tears from her own fight. Her face was red and she bore two angry looking marks on her chin and cheek. "I'm not allowed to tell you," she said.

"But you're going to anyway," Neville said. "I have a good idea already, but Harry needs to hear it."

She looked long and hard and Neville, then turned to Harry. "Wands limit your power, Harry. They're designed not just to focus your power, but to cap it. You're not supposed to be able to shatter a wand with magic. Professor Hooch said when that does happen, the Covens usually force the Wizard to bond."

"What?" Ron said. "What happens if he refuses?"

"Azkaban, or they just force the bond," Neville answered. "Think back to the Death Eaters who refused to bond. Where are they now?" He too rubbed his face. "Well, first off, I swear Hermione I won't tell anyone you told us. I've always heard the girl's Wizarding Life class was a lot different than what we boys had."

Harry shook his head, too stunned to speak, until he thought back to what happened. "Why were they attacking you, Hermione?"

"Because I was a Mudblood who dared try and steal the Boy Who Lived away from more deserving pureblood witches," she sneered.

"Well, that's just barmy," Ron said.

"Tell that to Ginny," Hermione said. "Your sister has been glaring at me since she found out Harry asked me to the Ball. She'd curse me herself if she thought she could get away with it."

"This is just so unfair," Harry muttered, feeling that old, simmering anger rising again. "Whose business is it who I go to a bloody ball with? And why is it anyone's business how much magic I have? The whole thing is stupid!"

"Harry," Hermione said carefully, staring at him urgently, "didn't you see how people acted around Dumbledore at Geneva? How he made Umbridge almost piss herself? He's the most powerful wizard in the world because he is not currently bonded. He could blow out his wand easily, and there are rumours he can even use wandless magic, which is classified as Dark Magic by the Ministry. People are scared of unbound, powerful wizards. It reminds them of You-Know-Who, or Grindelwald, or Merlin. We were taught that Merlin was a villain, Harry, and Morgana the hero for destroying him. They're going to force you to bond, I just know it. They'll bond you to some older witch to keep you under control." She sobbed again and covered her face. "I should never have said yes. I shouldn't have!"

Before the boys could say anything, they arrived back at the castle. "Blimey, that was fast," Ron muttered.

As fast as they were, somehow news travelled faster. A grim-faced Albus Dumbledore stood at the main entrance with Professor McGonagall at his side. Oddly, she was wearing a sash across her chest with two crests.

"You were wise to return quickly," the headmaster said in a calm tone that belied his expression. "Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom, I believe it wise for you both to return the Gryffindor tower. I entreat you both to say nothing of today's events to anyone, for any reason, not even to your families."

"Especially to your families," McGonagall said. "Potter, Granger, you'll come with us, please."

Hermione nodded, her face resigned and her eyes red. Neville and Ron looked apologetically at Harry. "I'll take your bags back," Ron offered in a subdued voice.

They parted ways, and in a few minutes Harry and Hermione found themselves in Dumbledore's office with the door locked behind them. "Before we begin," Dumbledore said, "you should be aware that Professor McGonagall is here acting as a Dame of the Dumbledore Coven and not as your head of house. In this matter, your status as students cannot be taken into account. We will be joined momentarily by two others."

The fireplace on the far side of the office flared green, and Harry tensed when Delia Griffin stepped out wearing a sash very similar to McGonagall's, only with different crests. Almost at the same time, the door behind them opened despite Dumbledore's locking charms to admit Severus Snape.

"Thank you for coming, Dame Delia," Dumbledore said. "Dame Minerva is here representing my personal coven. Professor Snape is here as Mr Potter's chosen magical guardian."

Delia Griffin narrowed her eyes when she saw Hermione. "And why is that young lady here?"

"A related issue that I wish resolved first," Dumbledore said. "Please sit. Tea will be prepared momentarily."

Harry's stomach by now was roiling. "First off, Mr Potter," Dumbledore said, "will you please hand your wand to Dame Minerva."

Fighting to control the trembling in his hand, Harry passed the wand over. Professor McGonagall's expression of dismay upon seeing it did not make him feel any better about his circumstances. McGonagall waved her wand over the exploded stick and shook her head, before standing and vary deliberately handing it to Griffin.

The Dame of the Griffin Coven did the same before clucking her tongue. "I see," she said when done. She tossed the wand over her shoulder and it flew as if directed by magic directly into the fireplace, where it crackled and sparked blue. "I ask again," she said, "why this child is here?"

"Miss Granger was set upon by three older witches of Hogsmeade," Dumbledore explained. "It was in her defence that Mr Potter overpowered his wand."

Griffin glared at Harry and Hermione both. "Where these witches harmed in any way?"

"I've received word that they were stunned only," McGonagall said. "Given the circumstances and the ages involved, I move that all charges of assault be dropped."

"These witches." Delia continued, ignoring McGonagall's words. "Did he stun them individually?"

"All three were stunned simultaneously," Dumbledore said. "It was that which destroyed the wand."

Delia nodded, as if he merely confirmed what she already knew, and turned to stare speculatively at Hermione. "Child, I've been told that you are of passing intelligence, so I shall be blunt. You are a Muggleborn. After the debacle that was Lily Evans, the covens will not tolerate another Muggleborn bonding a Potter heir. It was Lily's selfishness that resulted in only a single heir being alive today, when James Potter easily had the potential for two or three possible bondmates. I would be willing to forget your role in this whole affair, so long as I have your word that you will stay away from Potter. I'll even throw in a boon—a second bonding to an available wizard within the Griffin coven. We have three who are strong enough to take another—one of whom is only thirty. But let us be clear—you are not fit for Potter, and you will not be allowed to bond him. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Dame Delia," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Then leave, child, and remember my words."

Hermione stood and walked stiffly and quickly to the door, which opened and then closed behind her. When she was gone Griffin stared at Harry. "So, he first rejects what I'm told was a very powerful and advantageous bonding by a daughter of the Medicis, he then physically assaults a witch in Australia, and now burns out his wand while stunning three adult witches. And if that was not bad enough, he had the gall to appoint a man as his magical guardian. Elder Dumbledore, I am seeing a pattern here, and it is quite disturbing."

"You're looking for trees in a forest, Delia," McGonagall said. "Mr Potter defends his friends. I've seen it several times. He doesn't care if they be witch or wizard. He cares only for what is right. As for the game—you know very well that was a tactical foul and a bloody good one as well. If he'd been a witch, people would be applauding it."

"But he's not a witch. And he refused a Medici!" The last came out as an infuriated hiss. "Do you realize the honour he could have brought to the British ministry, to his coven, and to this school by bonding a Medici! How in the bloody hell did he even refuse her? Her Dame told me the girl's power could bond anyone she chose!"

"Don't I get a say in this?" Harry said.

"Shut up, you foolish little boy!" Delia snarled suddenly. "I am your Dame! You do not speak to me unless spoken to! I have half I mind to have you stilled or put down all together!"

"You shall do no such thing!" Minerva snapped back. "Not even the Dark Covens will allow such a thing!"

"He'll be dead before they get a chance to hear it!" Delia growled.

"No, Madam, he will not," Dumbledore said quietly.

Delia turned and stared, surprised. Even McGonagall looked surprised. Dumbledore sat unmoving, his magic carefully pulled in and controlled. "Mr Potter is only fourteen years old, and he was defending a friend. It was not an issue of bonding, but of friendship, and as Elder and Headmaster I will not allow him to be stilled or otherwise harmed."

"I am his Dame, it is my decision to make," Delia said, eyes narrowed.

"Then perhaps he should switch covens," Dumbledore said.

"He is underage. And Severus, if you even think about switching covens I'll ensure you're back in Azkaban so fast Aurora will not even know you're gone … and Rolanda will help."

"I'm sure she would," Snape said. He turned to Potter. "I told you it was a mistake to ask for me to be your magical guardian."

Harry nodded, fighting with everything he had not to lash out at the hateful witch. "If you were to resign, could I ask for another to represent me?"

"I would be your magical guardian as your Dame," Delia snapped.

Harry looked at her, and still fighting to control his tone, he said, "Dame Delia, I can see your magic. With all due respect, I do not believe you have my best interest in mind. If Professor Snape wishes to resign as my magical guardian, I would ask for Amelia Bones to assume the position if she is willing. I have met her, and spoken with her niece. I believe she would be fair."

Delia reared back as if slapped, and across from her the corner of McGonagall's mouth twitched.

"Since his request has placed me in an untenable situation, I do hereby resign as his magical guardian," Snape said quickly. "Dame Minerva, Dame Delia, I accepted the position because he was in need of my services while dealing with Gringotts, but in this area I realize I would not be able to properly represent him. Therefore I excuse myself."

With that, the Potions Professor walked quickly to the door and disappeared.

Behind his desk, Dumbledore kept his face strictly neutral as he penned a short missive. "Fawkes, would you?"

Harry stared as a creature of brilliant white and yellow fire appeared on the desk, warbling a tune that sounded like a symphony. It reminded him of the music he heard when the Headmaster appeared to fight back the Dementors. The magical bird took the letter and disappeared in a ball of flame.

When the bird was gone, Delia Griffin glared hatred at Harry. "You are making a dangerous enemy, Mr Potter."

"I don't make enemies, Madam," Harry said tightly. "They seem to happen quite well on their own."

Moments later the fireplace flared green and Amelia Bones stepped out. The woman wore a monocle in her eye, and elaborate business robes over a pair of satin slacks. "So the rumours are true," she said upon entry. "He really did assault those witches?"

"With cause, Amelia," McGonagall said. "They attacked a friend of his, and he simply defended her with a stunner."

"A wide-area stunner that blew out his wand," Bones finished. "Yes, it's already making the rounds. Expect a sizable article in the Prophet tomorrow—it won't be nice. Dame Dolores has been making several statements. Dame Delia, I hope you're well. So, why am I here?"

"Mr Potter's magical guardian has resigned," Dumbledore said. "In the absence of such a guardian, Mr Potter has asked for you to take the role. He has indicated he met you, and felt you would be a fair guardian."

Bones snorted in a distinctly un-lady-like fashion. "Now I know how Snape felt. So, Mr Potter, you're attempting to drag me into a fight between covens?"

"Ma'am, I just…" There were so many emotions blowing through him it was hard to speak. Finally, he said, "Before she died, Professor Burbage taught me that sometimes wizards need a witch to help. I need help, Madam."

"Well said, Potter," McGonagall murmured.

Amelia's hard expression softened slightly as she walked the rest of the way into the room to stand behind him. "Very well, Harry. I accept the role as your Magical Guardian. Chief Warlock, will you witness?"

"I so witness," Dumbledore said. "So, to wit, Harry has blown his wand. Dame Delia is seeking hard action against him for her perception of a pattern of violence against witches."

"Pattern?"

"He almost killed that Australian Seeker," Delia snapped, "and he assaulted three grown witches. And moreover, he refused a bonding from a Medici!"

Amelia shook her head. "With respect, Dame Delia, that was a brilliant Seeker check. The Irish National team used the same tactic to knock the Americans out of the cup last year. I played Quidditch professionally for two years before I joined the Department, and I assure you that was not an act of violence, but an extremely well-thought tactical strike that took our team into the playoffs. As for his assault on those witches—despite conceptions of blood purity, assault is still a crime, and those witches were assaulting a fifteen-year-old Fourth Year student. Three grown witches, one teen-aged girl. The Department has already determined that Mr Potter's actions were justifiable since he used a non-lethal spell to save his friend. No criminal actions will be taken."

Harry couldn't help but sigh.

"There are civil actions, and concerns greater than just the wording of the law," Delia said. "He burned out his wand while assaulting witches!"

"Yes, I'm aware of the connotations," Amelia said, nodding. "Nor can I say I'm entirely happy about it. What is it you are demanding, then?"

"That he be forcibly bonded now with a suitable witch to be determined in an emergency Sabbat. Possibly two witches, given the power he demonstrated. In the absence of such, he needs to be stilled. He is a clear danger to all witches."

Bones looked long and hard at Harry, before saying, "Yes, I can see he's a raving lunatic intent on raping and pillaging the countryside. Seriously, Dame Delia, are you actually trying to state that Mr Potter is a threat? He hasn't even taken his OWLs yet. He is powerful, but he has no training, and by the time he has sufficient training to be a threat, he'll be bonded through normal means already."

"Not good enough!" Delia shouted. "As his Dame that is what will happen, by my civil authority!"

"Which brings us to our second point," Dumbledore said. "Mr Potter does not believe Dame Delia has his best interest in heart, and wishes to switch covens."

"I wonder what made him think that," Amelia said with a wry smile.

"The Potters have been a part of the Griffin Coven since the founding of Hogwarts," Delia said. "We will not just let him go."

"Then it looks like there will be a Sabbat regardless," Amelia said. "Frankly, Dame Delia, I agree with Mr Potter that you are not looking out for his best interests. As powerful as he may be, he is still fourteen, and it is highly inappropriate, whatever the justification, to bond a wizard his age. In the Muggle world to do so would be considered statutory rape and as his magical guardian I cannot agree to such an act."

"Then I call a Sabbat," Delia said. "Dame Minerva?"

"There is enough contention, I must agree," the professor said. "I second your call for Sabbat, Dame Delia. Let the covens gather."

"Until then, Mr Potter will remain in the castle without a wand," Dumbledore said. "This school recognized the right of the Dame to select wands for their wizards. If Mr Potter is allowed to switch covens, it will be for the new Dame to select a wand for him."

"Until then," Delia said before she stood and walked stiffly to the fireplace, disappearing moments later.

sp

sp

Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. They did their very best with Brit-checking chis chapter. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.