Firebird's Son: Book I of the Firebird Trilogy Chapter 35: Judgments, a harry potter fanfic

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Chapter Thirty-Five: Judgments

The moment Delia Griffin was gone, Harry shot out of his chair, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth. "Is it always going to be like this?" he shouted, no longer able to keep his anger under control. "Am I always going to have hateful old women insulting my friends and telling me what to do?"

He spun away, stumbling out from the seats around the headmaster's desk and pounding on his leg in frustration. "I thought things were supposed to be better in the magical world!" he shouted. "Instead all I get is hate and monsters and people trying to hurt me! Why? What have I done to make you all hate me so much?"

Without realizing it, Harry's magic was swirling around him in a storm of uncontrolled power. Suddenly he felt an alien magic pushing against his and a hard, loud voice shouting, "Occlumency, Harry. Now!"

Only, Harry did not want to bottle up his emotions, he wanted to shout and rage and scream until his voice cracked. He pushed back against the magic, giving into his rage like any normal fourteen-year-old boy pushed past his limit would. Dumbledore stood but did not draw his wand as he approached. Harry trembled before the approaching thundercloud of magic, but continued to stand his ground and push back, grinding his teeth with an animalistic growl of outrage.

Finally, dry, leathery hands made almost luminescent by the vast power just underneath the skin rested against his cheek. "Harry, my boy, I understand your anger," the old wizard said. His calm tone belied the raging, silent battle of magic around them. "I know, my boy, I know. More than you can imagine. Don't let the anger control you, or it will destroy you."

The air literally sparkled, snapped and popped with random discharges of energy as the two magical auras clashed, until finally Harry's rage snapped, and in its place came a single great, frustrated, dry sob. He fell down to his knees on the tiles of the floor as his magic collapsed around him.

Dumbledore did not kneel, for his knees would never forgive him, but he did bend over and hold the back of Harry's head, as if in silent benediction. "Use your Occlumency, Harry. When you are ready, join us for a cuppa." The old wizard walked back to the desk while the two witches stared in silence.

Finally, Amelia said, "Albus, if anyone should be bonded or stilled, it's you. By Morgana, how have you managed not to shatter your wand?"

The old wizard smiled gently while motioning the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to sit. "A lifetime of training, Madam. And I should not have to remind you that I have met the requirements of the covens by bonding with four witches, and fathering several children with them. It was my grave misfortune that time, sickness, and at the last, violence, took my family away from me. I fear my great age has assured the Covens that any danger I represent would be short lived, if in fact I had any inclination to be dangerous. Rest assured, I do not."

"And Harry?"

"Harry, if he so chose, could easily form a new coven," Dumbledore said. "I suspect because of the unique circumstances of his early childhood, he could easily bond four, or possibly even five witches, though why he would want to bond a fifth I can't imagine. Having had four wives, I assure you, alone is more taxing than any sane wizard would ask. But then again, James Potter could have founded a coven as well with Lily as his first wife."

"Which is why Delia actually supported Lily's desire to be a single spouse, no matter what the woman says," McGonagall said. "The nerve of her!"

Nearby, Harry took a deep, shuddering breath and raised his Occlumency, viciously pushing all the boiling emotions behind it. He stood and walked back to the adults. "I apologize for my outburst," he said. "It's been difficult to discover this world is even more flawed and despicable than the one I left."

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore warned.

Harry bowed his head and collapsed tiredly into the seat near Bones. "Can she really…make me bond with someone?"

"That is a grey area," Amelia admitted, "caught between custom and law. The word of the law provides protection for wizards under the age of fifteen. But the law of the Sabbat is different than Ministry law. Within a Coven, dames have absolute power, up to and including stilling or killing. It is usually a great scandal and gets talked about for weeks or months, but because the custom is so ingrained little comes of such acts."

Harry took a long, shuddering breath again. "So what happens next?"

"Next, there will be a meeting of the Dames," McGonagall said. "Perhaps not all of them. Some covens have more power than others due to the number of families and the amount of wealth they represent. The Sabbat will hear Delia Griffin's charges and wishes, and they will hear Amelia's plea for you to switch covens, and they will decide. Do you know which coven you would wish to switch to?"

"One that doesn't want to kill me?" Harry said. "I don't know."

"Well, as you know I am a member of the Croaker Coven now," Amelia said. "It is a traditionalist coven more than a light coven."

Harry shook his head. "I like Dame Augusta, but I'm afraid she would agree with Dame Delia."

The tea arrived with a blur of Elfin magic only Harry could see, and a pop. He accepted a cup with a strained smile and stared down at dark liquid. He frowned before a sudden thought came to him. While the others stared in confusion, he took the tea pot and poured the tea back until only the leaves remained at the bottom of the cup. He then dumped the leaves onto the cup's saucer.

"Potter, what are you doing?"

Harry, though, ignored Professor McGonagall's question and moved the leaves around until they formed a name. He felt a sharp, familiar stab of pain, though at least this time there was no blood. He placed the saucer on the desk and pointed. "Who is that?"

The three adults stared at the saucer, before Dumbledore said, "Mr Potter, please remember that practitioners of Tasseography see patterns through their magic. Lacking such magic, none of us can see what you see."

"Oh," Harry said, disappointed. "It says Branwenn, but I don't know who that is."

"Good Morgana, do you think he means Branwenn Lloyd?" McGonagall said.

Amelia stared intently at Harry. "Have you ever heard of the Lloyds?"

Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am, or at least, I don't think so."

"Why should he, they're not a politically active coven, and Harry was Muggle-raised," McGonagall said. "Does Carlton even come to the Wizengamot anymore?"

"He works through a proxy," Dumbledore said. "However, it is an intriguing idea. The Lloyds actually have a common ancestry with the Potters, both descending from the Peverell Line. The Potters aligned themselves originally with the Griffins for geographic and idealistic convenience. However, others have noticed a shift of the Griffin Coven's politics since Delia rose to Dame, and given the Lloyd's relation to the Potters, it would be a logical move."

"Moreover, they are an avowed Light coven, and fairly powerful, when they choose to use that power," McGonagall said. "The entire Jones clan answers to them, as do the Morgans and Prices."

"Most important of all, however," Dumbledore said with a twinkling smile at Harry, "was that our boy here saw them in the leaves. Given his status as a confirmed, licensed Seer, that fact alone may have some bearing; especially to a Dame who has seen almost four hundred years of history with her own eyes."

~~Firebird~~

"Next time I say I'd rather not go to Hogsmeade, listen to me," Harry muttered to his roommates when he got back to his room. Fortunately, most of the other students were still at Hogsmeade. Hermione was not in the Common Room when he got back, so he assumed she had gone to her dorm room.

"What's going to happen now?" Neville asked.

"They're going to call a Sabbat," Harry said. "And I have no wand."

Ron's eyes bulged. "Blimey, Harry. A whole Sabbat? For what?"

"Dame Delia wants me bonded now, or stilled," Harry said darkly.

The other boys stared at him in horror. "But that's…that's…that's not right!" Neville finally got out.

"She's angrier about that stupid girl from Florence who tried to poach me than she is about what happened in Hogsmeade," Harry muttered.

"Oh, you mean Constantina?" Neville said.

Harry stared.

"What, it was in the paper!" Neville went to his trunk and pulled out a stack of old papers, finding the one he wanted. "See!"

Harry never saw that edition, but there was indeed a picture of him in the line of other players, and the cute Florence Seeker wrapping her arms around and giving him a searing kiss. As he continued to watch, she backed away with a confused and hurt expression on her face. Worse, the caption read, "Potter Spurns Medici Heir!"

"Good God," Harry muttered. "I didn't even know her! What was I supposed to do, just let her poach me?"

"She'd be a good catch," Ron said, looking over Harry's shoulder. "Cute AND rich. Doesn't get much better than that."

Harry sighed. "Ron, go away."

"This isn't going to go away, Harry," Neville said. "This is big. Blowing up a wand like that is huge. And it also means you have no wand to defend yourself."

"No worries, you and I'll take care of it!" Ron said.

"We'll certainly try," Neville said, less certain.

~~Firebird~~

Harry very seriously considered skipping dinner that night, but having missed lunch already his stomach convinced him hunger was more important than pride. The moment he stepped down into the common room, he knew things would be bad when everyone there turned and stared.

Sighing, he said, "Yes, right. Go ahead, get the stares out of your system. When you're done, I'd like to go eat."

"No worries, Merlin-boy," Georgina called. "I'm sure if it gets too irritating, you'll just use your super-manly magic to make us all go away."

"Georgina, if I could do that you'd have been gone four years ago," Harry said.

Both twins laughed at that, while Angelina stepped forward. "It's all bullocks, Harry. I saw what happened. The team is with you—you don't need a wand to fly."

Touched more than he thought he would, Harry cleared his throat and nodded. "Right, er, well, thanks."

"Come on," Neville said, "let's go eat."

If the silence in the common room was disturbing, the Great Hall going silent upon Harry's entry was downright frightening. He ducked his head, stayed securely between his roommates, and went straight to the table to eat. As he was eating, a school owl delivered a note to him. He opened it and read the instructions to return to the Headmaster's office that evening after dinner. When he looked he saw the Headmaster absent from the staff table.

"Let's hope it's good news," Neville said.

"At this point I'm just hoping it's not worse news," Harry muttered.

He left his friends after dinner and walked quickly to the Headmaster's office, not surprised when the door opened on its own for him. He saw Dumbledore there, since the old wizard had skipped dinner in the Great Hall. McGonagall was not there, but Amelia Bones was. With them stood an ancient witch so old her skin was little more than pale gauze wrapped around the blazing fire of her magic. Thin white hair curled on her head, while her eyes virtually glowed red with magic, the original colour of her irises worn out long ago.

"So this is Charlus's grandson," the witch said in a dry, leathery voice that reminded him of Binns.

"Indeed, Dame Branwenn," Dumbledore said. Harry tried not to blink—he rarely heard such respect for others in the Headmaster's voice. "But he is also Lily's son, and we must take that into account. He is an Aether."

"So I've heard," the ancient witch said. "Come closer boy. At my age, all I see is magic. I wish to see you face."

He came closer, frankly awed by her age. She reached up hands and placed them on his cheeks. He felt her ancient magic wash over him, somehow tasting his very being. Suddenly he realized… "You're an Aether! But…"

"Tactile only," Branwenn assured him, "but yes. Be easy, though, child. My husband and I have seen almost four centuries pass. We have outlived not only our children, but all but one of our grandchildren as well. You are in fact a descendent of mine, child. I can feel a touch of Amberlin in you, bless her soul. Your great, great grandmother."

"Too far removed for blood wards, more's the pity," Dumbledore said. "Although I'm afraid you'll have to add two greats, Madam. Amberlin was his four times great grandmother, making you his five times great grandmother."

"Indeed," Branwenn said, looking over Harry's head. "The boy has not been treated well, Albus. I feel abuses past and heartbreak, almost non-stop. It is a wonder the boy hasn't gone fully dark."

Amelia sat up. "What do you mean, fully?"

"I mean if that damned fool child Delia forces a bonding, you will have another Voldemort on your hands," Branwenn Lloyd said firmly, though oddly she did not look at them when she spoke, but continued to face a point over Harry's head. "This boy's fate is his own, and his bondmates have already been chosen by the gods themselves."

Harry realized the woman could not physically see, at least not with her eyes. She was so old her magic had literally burned out her eyes—and yet he knew she could see everything there was about him through her hands. "Dame Branwenn," he said softly, "may I join your coven?"

"Aye, child, you will join my coven. I'll call for it at Sabbat. You belong with the Lloyds. And I'll have a suitable wand waiting for you, child. Though, I think we both know you won't be in the Lloyd Coven for long. Just remember us kindly, when the Potter Coven comes into its own."

"I will, Dame Branwenn," he said.

She lifted her dry, leathery hands from his cheeks and patted his head with what would have been a fond smile, had her face been able to emote. "This one is going to change the world, I can feel it. Until we meet again, child, know that not everyone is against you." She leaned down to whisper in his ear. "And though Albus can be troublesome at times, he is not your enemy. Be sure not to make him one."

With that she turned and walked slowly to the fireplace.

"Well, that went better than I hoped," Amelia said. "Congratulations, Mr Potter, you just had an interview with the oldest living witch in the world."

"I thought Perenelle Flamel was the oldest," Harry said.

"She was, last year," Dumbledore said. "Sadly, Nicholas and his wife perished defending the Philosopher's Stone from a magical attack from an unknown assailant. The Stone was unfortunately destroyed, as were the Flamels. This makes Branwenn Lloyd, at three hundred and ninety eight years old, the oldest living witch."

Dumbledore stood and walked around the desk. "Rest assured, Mr Potter, that Professor McGonagall and Madam Bones will fight for you. But also prepare yourself for any outcome. The Covens may decide actions beyond just what Coven you will be associated with."

"I will, sir, thank you."

"Very well. Off with you, then."

~~Firebird~~

Harry skipped all his classes except for Muggle Studies, where they were doing yet another module of testing for the GCSE maths, and even then his mind was barely there. After four years of living in the magical world, he felt naked without his wand.

The stares didn't help. Only his teammates and roommates spoke to him, the rest just stared, or ignored him altogether, as if somehow the threat of the judgment against him might hurt them as well. Worse yet, Hermione wouldn't even look at him, not even when he tried to say hello.

After class, he waved off his roommates. "I think I'll just take a walk," he told the boys. "You know, just to clear my head."

Being mid-March in Scotland, Harry layered himself and grabbed his raincoat, but for once it was a bright, sunny day. It was windy, and cold, but sunny nonetheless. He wrapped himself up in his jacket to ward off the wind and made his way out into the grounds. Before too long, his steps took him to Hagrid's hut, where the half-giant was tending to a paddock of Hippogriffs.

"'Allo, 'Arry!" he bellowed, raising a giant meaty hand. "What brings yer out this way?"

"Just wanted to get a breath of fresh air. How are you?"

"Oh, can't complain, summat," he said. He continued brushing the animal he was working on while it snorted and stamped its claws. Though the creature had the body of a horse, it had the wings, head and claws of a giant eagle, and they were deadly. Malfoy came close to getting a claw buried in his body during their class on the creatures, but Professor Kettleburn had been keeping her eye on the boy and knew he would be trouble. She saved him at the last minute, after giving him a good scare, and then assigned him two weeks' detention.

"Need a hand?"

"Sure," Hagrid said.

Harry grabbed a thick bristled comb and walked toward another of the regal creatures, bowing as he did so. Hippogriffs were not sentient creatures, and so their language consisted of things like Food, Sex, Young, Prey, Fly this way, Fight, Flee, and Sex.

Harry found it odd that a creature with a vocabulary of only eight to ten words had two of them for sex, but still the creatures were regal in appearance even if they were not the brightest in the world. Once the Hippogriff returned his bow to allow him close, he stepped to its flank and began to brush.

"Old Abe at Hogsmeade read the paper to me this morn," Hagrid said, since the man could not read himself. "Bad bit o' business, that. Not right, what 'dem witches done. Not right. Bad business."

"Yeah," Harry said.

"That girl o' yours, with the funny name, she alright, then?"

"Hermione? Yeah, I suppose. She hasn't talked to me since then."

Hagrid snorted. "Don't suppose she would, now would she? Poor thing prolly thinks it's all her doing, or some such. I seen her out by the lake last night, cryin' and such."

Harry froze and stared at the giant a moment, stunned. The Hippogriff tapped him on the head hard with her wing, demanding he finish. He stared brushing again on automatic. "Hermione was out here, crying?"

"That she was," Hagrid said. "Bad business, that. Bad business. Pretty girl, smart and all, like yer mum."

"Yeah. She's smart about some things, but I wonder if she's smart about others."

Hagrid shrugged and easily tossed the one ton animal aside to move on to the next. "Brains'r funny things, I'm thinking. Summat ken real good, knowin' books and summat, but not people. Some ken people but not books. Some ken both—them's the ones ya look out fer. Others don't ken nothing, like me."

"Hagrid, I think you ken people better than anyone else I know."

Hagrid chuckled. "Nice to say so, but I like me friends here in the paddocks. Hippogriffs don't go cryin' and making me feel sad or summat."

"No, I suppose not." Harry laughed when Hagrid started singing a drinking song involving very large women and lots of beer. They had just finished brushing the animals down when one of the school owls swept down and landed on the paddock gate a few feet from Harry with a scrap of parchment.

"Reckin' that's yours, then," Hagrid said.

Nodding, Harry took the parchment from the owl and read over it. "I have to go, Hagrid."

"Right, then. Well, keep yer chin up, no matter what!"

"I will, Hagrid. Thanks."

He began the long walk back to the castle, struggling to keep his thoughts under control by using every Occlumency technique he knew. He made it just past the courtyard when he saw Hermione, holding her robes hitched up past the knees of her skirt, running full tilt. When she saw him, her trajectory changed, but her speed did not. He backed up a step in alarm when she suddenly dove at him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him so hard he thought his ribs were going to crack.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed into his shoulder. "It's all my fault, I just know it. If I hadn't gone with you to that blasted dance, none of this would be happening. I'm so sorry, but when you asked I was just so happy I didn't think and now it's too late and I'm so sorry."

Fortunately there were no other students at that part of the castle, so rather than trying to calm her down he put an arm around her shoulder and simply let her cry it out. When at last she backed up, red-faced from crying, he said, "It's my fault, Hermione. Dame Delia was pushing this because I refused a poaching attempt by a Medici."

"I read that," she said, sniffing. "How did you resist that, by the way?"

"Occlumency," Harry said with a shrug. "Everyone makes a big deal of my being an Occlumens without thinking about what that means. Look, Hermione, it's not your fault. One of my friends was being attacked, so I helped. Those old bats were the ones attacking; they're the ones who started it, not you. Okay?"

She sniffed, wiped her eyes, and nodded. "I am your friend, Harry," she finally said. "If you ever need help, with anything, I'll do anything I can."

"That goes both ways. You're my friend too, Hermione. And I don't have enough friends to ever take one for granted. Especially you." Then, because it just seemed like the right thing to do, he leaned down and gently kissed her on her lips. The kiss was salty with her tears, but it still just felt right. He kept his magic tightly locked up behind his barriers even as he felt her magic washing over him with the sudden onslaught of emotion.

He parted and smiled at her stunned, wide-eyed expression. "It'll be okay," he told her. "No matter what."

With those last words he turned and continued toward the Headmaster's office.

Author's Note: Very special thanks as always to Teufel1987, JR and Miles for beta reading. If there are any major faux-pas, they are entirely of my own doing.