A/N: Howdy everyone! Early release this week since we have family over this weekend.
Check out the HAPHNE discord #fanart for the illustrations from my wife. As always, thank you to those who review, favorite, follow and PM! See you next week!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just happy to be here!
Chapter 24
"POTTER! You dunderhead! Fifty points from Gryffindor for your carelessness!" Snape snapped.
"Detention, I think, Mr. Potter," Umbridge sang in her sickly-sweet high-pitched tone.
"GET AWAY FROM ME, FREAK!" Daphne yelled while shoving Harry, nearly knocking him off his feet. His complexion paled even more as he heard that word. Daphne scowled at him, her arms flailing in the air in rage as she screamed, "How many times do I have to reject your advances before you leave me alone? I hate you!"
Harry recoiled as if physically struck.
"You're a FREAK! Didn't your parents raise you to be better behaved?" Daphne smiled maliciously, her eyes glinting with vindictive pleasure as she delivered her parting shot. "Who could ever love you?"
An ominous silence resounded within the Potions lab. Even Snape and Umbridge held their breath; it seemed lines could be crossed, even with people as vile as them. Daphne twisted the proverbial dagger she had plunged directly into Harry's heart.
"Haven't you noticed, Potter?" she spat in disgust. "Everyone who you love ends up DEAD!"
There were a few people who had the courtesy to gasp in horror. Most, however, snickered while watching Harry getting torn apart verbally by Daphne Greengrass. Harry stared ahead as his vision began to slowly morph into a red haze.
He heard the snickering of those around him, the heavy breathing of Daphne standing before him. He felt the latent magic of Hogwarts pulsating around him, yearning for release.
Then something deep within himself snapped abruptly.
Harry began to laugh.
But the laugh was unnatural, high-pitched, mocking, and filled with a mixture of disdain and loathing. Still behind his desk, wand drawn, Snape blanched.
"That's enough, Potter!" Snape said, clearly unnerved.
But Harry kept laughing, and the latent magic of Hogwarts began to thrum around him, pulsing and swirling as he reveled in its raw, overwhelming power.
"Detention!" Umbridge shouted. "Control yourself, Potter!"
Harry only laughed harder, his face twisted into a maniacal expression, his eyes that of a crazed man.
A red stunner flew from behind him, courtesy of Umbridge. Harry sensed the pitiful magic as it slowly made its way to him. A shriek resounded from behind as a nearby desk, of its own accord, lifted and intercepted the spell. Umbridge gawked and Snape's expression twisted to one of extreme annoyance as Harry refused to cease his mocking laughter.
The Potions professor shot a series of binding and stunning spells at Harry, only for a chorus of yelps and exclamations of surprise to echo throughout the room. Desks, chairs, cauldrons, and even potion ingredients, all lifted and intercepted the spells. Umbridge quickly joined Snape in attempting to subdue their errant student, only for the same results to occur.
Abruptly, Harry stopped laughing as he stared at Daphne, locking her sapphire eyes with his own eyes that shone no longer with an emerald green, but the same color as the killing curse. Daphne, locked by his unhinged gaze, could only stare mouth agape.
"Dobby," Harry called, his voice soft and lethal.
Dobby, bound to the boy he lovingly called, 'The Great Harry Potter Sir', appeared with a thunderous crack, Harry's overwhelming magic feeding into the house-elf and strengthening him through their bond. Dobby's floppy ears twitched as he stared at his master with his large tennis ball sized eyes, awaiting instruction.
"Fetch Sasha, my friend."
Dobby disappeared with a crack of apparation, reappearing seconds later with Sasha who hissed angrily, sensing her master's emotions. Everyone, including Daphne, screamed in horror at the appearance of the creature. Doubly so when Harry began pouring magic into her, causing her to swell in size, nearly triple what she was originally. Students clamored to escape the room only to find the door vanish, replaced with a solid stone wall as Hogwarts conformed to its master's will.
"Who shall I kill, Master?" Sasha intoned.
"No killing, my pet," Harry commanded, slipping into parseltongue easily as the occupants of the room observed in terror. "Ensure Snape does not interfere."
"Yes, Master!" Sasha, quicker than most thought possible, slithered up the desk of Snape and hissed, her deadly fangs on full display as she stared directly into Snape's eyes.
The Potion master wisely had not fired a spell, and kept his hands held up non-threateningly.
"Give her a fucking reason, Snape," Harry said longingly, still staring directly at Daphne. "I would love for nothing more than for Sasha to end you for what you've done."
Snape swallowed heavily and didn't comment, his forehead sporting a thick sheen of sweat.
A sickly yellow spell lit up the room, headed directly for Sasha who, incredibly, did not flinch. Harry hissed in parseltongue, but it was obscured by a nearby desk rising to intercept the curse and exploding. Harry cocked his head to the side as Umbridge squeaked in surprise, having cast the spell.
"Oh, we can't have that," Harry muttered as he turned toward Umbridge with a predatory grace that belied the still-maniacal expression etched on his face. A flick of his wrist and his wand shot into his hand from its holster. Faster than the eye could follow, Harry fired a spell at Umbridge which shot past the far-too-slow shield she was attempting to erect.
The sheer force of the spell threw Umbridge from her feet and into the wall, her wand flying from her grasp and clattering to the floor as she remained fixed to the wall, screaming in outrage.
"I'll have your head for this, Potter!" Umbridge spat indignantly. "I am the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic! It's Azkaban for you, boy!"
Harry casually picked up Umbridge's wand and twirled it in his hand lazily before grinning evilly.
*SNAP*
Her wand, so feeble and flimsy, broke easily between his hands.
"Y-You DARE?!" Umbridge raged. "I swear you will go through the veil, Potter! Even if I have to throw you through it myself!"
Harry chuckled, the sound laced with malevolence, as he stalked forward, a piece of Umbridge's wand in each hand. A wave of his hand and Umbridge yelped as she was lifted off her feet, her wrists bound by stone shackles formed from the very wall of Hogwarts itself.
Harry stepped forward and with something uttered in parseltongue, he savagely impaled one half of Umbridge's wand in each hand. She screamed like a banshee and squirmed.
"Silence!" Harry commanded with a wave of his wand, and Umbridge found her cries muted. Harry sneered as he looked at the weak-willed, vile woman who knew nothing of real power. "I never thought I could hate someone as much as I hate Voldemort," Harry said casually, as if he was giving a report on the weather. "You have certainly tested my restraint."
Umbridge's mouth moved in a furious tirade, but nothing was heard by those in the room.
"Listen to me, you stupid bint," Harry said savagely before shifting, unnaturally, to a loving, almost caressing tone. "The next time I see you, I will skin you alive ever so slowly, relishing in every scream you utter. And just when you think I will grant you the sweet release of death, I will heal your wounds and start over once more."
Harry backhanded the fat toad savagely. "You will yearn for death. You will beg for the Cruciatus. And I will give you neither."
There was a sound of water hitting stone as Umbridge's bladder evacuated.
"Pray I do not encounter you again, Dolores Umbridge," Harry spat in distaste.
Harry turned back to the room to find Dobby patiently waiting in the exact spot he had apparated to. Sasha was hissing and spitting angrily at Snape, doing her best to convince Harry to let her eat the professor. Daphne stood completely shellshocked in the exact same spot, her expression one of fear.
The rest of the class were huddled around where the door used to be, all glancing anywhere but at Harry as he took measured steps to stand before Daphne once more. Power poured off him in waves, thick and oppressive.
"Freak," Harry said darkly with a snort. "How many times have I heard that fucking word?"
Daphne flinched when Harry raised his hand slowly, twirling his wand.
"Is that what you truly believe?" Harry addressed the crowd of students. "That Harry Potter is a freak? A spoiled, entitled, famous boy who, out of jealousy, murdered Cedric Diggory and attempted to cover it up by proclaiming Lord Voldemort has returned?"
A collective shiver ran through the room.
Harry stowed his wand and began removing his robes, confident no one would, or could, harm him. Each piece of fabric fell from his torso until all that was left was a skintight, long-sleeved, black shirt which he peeled off, revealing a toned physique that evoked a collective gasp from the entire room.
He turned back to stare at Daphne who had visibly paled as her eyes ran over the spiderweb network of scars, courtesy of Cyrus Greengrass. A flicker of recognition crossed her eyes before they glazed over, and she swallowed heavily.
"Your father did a real number on me in that graveyard," Harry said lowly. "As did Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort himself."
If Daphne heard him, she did not react, and Harry took a step away from her toward the crowd of students who backed into each other in a futile attempt to create distance. He held his arms out to the crowd and snorted derisively.
"Do you think I did this to myself?" Harry questioned no one in particular, incredulity in his biting tone. "Truly?"
His answer was a wary silence.
"No, this is a courtesy of my upbringing," Harry gestured to various scars. "Abused, hated, labeled a freak," he spat the last word out bitterly, glaring at Daphne who looked away almost immediately.
"Master, the man moves," Sasha informed.
"I haven't forgotten you're there, Snape," Harry warned. "Nor have I forgotten that you are the reason my dad is dead." He rounded on Snape, wand pointed directly at the man. "Please, move once more. Give me a reason to end you, or a reason for Sasha to feed."
Snape grimaced.
"You thought I didn't know?" Harry chuckled. "I know, Snivellus. I know you're the one who leaked the prophecy that killed my parents and set Voldemort after me." Harry strode forward and, with all his might, slammed his fist into Snape's nose, shattering it and sending the man tumbling backward. "But that's not the dad I'm speaking of, you pasty-faced, greasy-haired, hooked nose fuck."
Snape stared up at Harry, fear hiding behind his eyes. Harry placed his foot atop the man's chest and leaned, slowly forcing the air from his lungs.
"No," Harry whispered, "you knew the rat was Pettigrew, didn't you?"
Recognition flashed across Snape's eyes.
"You robbed my Godfather of any hope of freedom," Harry hissed. "Sirius Black died a wanted man. Does that make you happy?"
Snape had the wherewithal to remain stoic.
"He's the reason I escaped your little Death Eater trap," Harry snarled and removed his foot before driving it down brutally on Snape's face. "And the reason he couldn't escape with me was because he would have been killed by the aurors."
Snape yelped and covered his face. Harry spit on the man and turned back to his audience.
"Move again, and Sasha will end you," Harry said matter-of-factly, before repeating his instruction to Sasha in parseltongue while stowing his wand. Raising his hand, Harry channeled his magic and was rewarded with a girlish scream as Draco Malfoy levitated above the crowd before being thrown into an adjacent wall where he remained suspended.
"Draco, Draco, Draco," Harry tutted as the crowd fell over themselves to make a path for Harry.
Draco whimpered.
"You know, I always envied you," Harry admitted. "Parents who, despite being Voldemort's bootlickers, clearly adore you. You grew up in the magical world and have always known your place." Harry scoffed. "Which is, sadly, on your knees at Voldemort's feet."
Harry tapped his chin. "I don't quite envy that position," he said in a bored tone. "But to have parents, a home, and know your place in society? How lovely that must have been. It's a pity it was wasted on such an arrogant piece of shit such as yourself."
Draco's heels beat against the stone wall as he gasped for air.
"Did you know I was almost a Slytherin myself?" Harry's voice began to rise as his composure threatened to snap. "That I was a hat stall between Gryffindor and Slytherin?" He was shouting now at Draco who was slowly being choked by Harry's magic. "The only reason I didn't join Slytherin was you!"
Harry recomposed himself with several calming breaths.
"I give you the same warning I gave the Umbitch," Harry cautioned. "If I ever see you again, Draco, I will kill you without hesitation."
A low rumble resounded within the room and Harry relaxed, allowing Draco to breathe freely but leaving the boy suspended against the wall. With a simple wave of his hand, the door to the Potions lab returned and opened. Students hesitated to rush through and abandoned the thought altogether when they saw Albus Dumbledore, wand drawn, standing at the threshold.
"Ah, Albus," Harry greeted with a malicious smirk. "How good of you to join us."
"Harry, my boy," Albus said slowly as he analyzed the room with rapidly widening eyes. "You need to stand down."
"Or what?" Harry folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.
"I will be forced to do something rather unpleasant," Dumbledore said resolutely.
Harry waved away the threat. "You've been doing unpleasant things to me my whole life, Albus," he said as he returned to stand in front of Daphne before slowly circling her. To her credit, she did not cower, although she visibly trembled. "Where to begin? You left me with the Dursley's, who abused, beat, and starved me."
Harry paused his circling. "You circumvented my parents' will. You allowed Quirrell to torture me. You allowed me to face a basilisk. You knew Sirius Black was innocent."
Harry hummed in thought. "I wonder if you are also the reason my Godmother never sought me out?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, Harry continued listing his accusations. "You allowed Voldemort to be resurrected through your inaction. Should I go on?"
Dumbledore frowned.
"You keep a pet Death Eater, who is responsible for the death of Lily and James Potter, as a teacher," Harry continued. "A man who hates me for no other reason than I look like my father." Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Pathetic."
"All can be explained," Dumbledore assured in a grandfatherly tone, provoking a maniacal laugh from Harry.
"Always in control," Harry smirked. "But no longer."
Harry turned his attention back to Daphne, meeting her eyes with his own. Every memory Harry had of her slowly began to appear in his mind, before being consumed in flames until it was nothing more than a wisp of smoke dissipating within his mindscape.
When the last memory faded, Harry frowned.
"Fuck Potter blood," he muttered. Bending down, Harry gathered his clothes before donning them methodically. Just as he finished straightening his robes, a shockwave of power rolled from the doorway as a bright white flash illuminated the room.
Harry didn't flinch, nor did he take his eyes off Daphne's. Several desks rose and intercepted the inbound spells, exploding in a shower of debris that swirled around Harry before raining to the floor.
"Do you feel in control now, Albus?" Harry questioned lazily as Fawkes appeared in a flash of flame and landed on Harry's shoulder.
Dumbledore was unable to keep the shock from his face.
"No, I'm done," Harry said with a faraway voice, turning to face Dobby and holding out his hand. "My life has been nothing but pain. A 'magical guardian' who did everything he could to not protect and aid me. A teacher who hates me for my appearance alone, responsible for the death of my parents and Godfather. A psychopath, now resurrected, hellbent on killing me."
Sasha slithered over to Harry, shrinking as she did, until she climbed up Harry's leg and curled herself around his torso. Dobby timidly walked over, and Harry took his hand with his own.
"A Ministry who is far more focused on vilifying who was once their hero; accusing a boy that supposedly killed the Dark Lord of murdering his peer."
Harry looked over his shoulder at Daphne, taking a deep breath before he exhaled slowly. "A friend, who I thought I loved, betraying everything she promised and speaking words that she, of all people, should have known better than to speak."
He didn't register the look of pure confusion on Daphne's face as he finished speaking.
"Your parents would not have wanted you to go down this path, Harry," Dumbledore said in a shaky voice.
"How the fuck would you know what they would want?" Harry said, his voice rising with every word. "HOW COULD ANYONE KNOW?!"
Daphne gasped and stumbled backwards as Harry brandished his wand once more, magic flaring around him violently, while Fawkes screeched sharply.
"Didn't you hear me, Albus?" Harry said, his voice suddenly deathly calm. "I. Am. Done."
Sasha bared her fangs at the old man and Harry hissed in parseltongue to calm her.
"No, I am taking control of my own life for once," Harry said icily. "Voldemort can have this Merlin-forsaken country, and you can all burn with him for all I care. From here on out, no one will dictate my life. There will be no more Dark Lords, no Dumbledores, no Ministry bootlickers, and NO FUCKING CRUCIO'S!"
"Harr-" Dumbledore began but was cut off when Harry Potter vanished in a flash of phoenix fire while the Potions lab erupted in chaos.
-GU-
Astoria turned to her older sister, a question on her lips regarding what she said to Harry, only to find Daphne inconsolable as she sobbed heavily into her hands. Astoria sighed and patted her sister on the shoulder weakly, feeling her own tears fall from seeing how devastated Daphne was.
"I wanted to hurt him," Daphne mumbled through her hands in a sorrowful tone. "That's why I said you were dead."
Astoria didn't press for further details and instead leaned back against her pillow wearily. She hadn't felt this utterly drained since the Patronus incident. She took a rattling breath and gagged as something caught in her throat, obstructing her airway. Choking, she managed to gurgle and cough up a thick wad of mucus and blood.
Daphne, having heard the sound, quickly cradled her baby sister.
"Please don't leave me, Tori," Daphne said shakily. "I won't survive."
"Daffy…" Astoria wheezed. "I can't go much longer."
"Oh, gods!" Daphne hiccupped. "I'm so sorry, Tori! This is all my fault!"
"It's not," Astoria shook her head and smiled gently while she clasped her older sister's hand firmly. "It's going to be okay, Daphne."
Daphne sobbed and laughed incredulously at the same time, taking several gasping breaths after.
"It will," Astoria said firmly. "I know Harry still loves you."
"He loves you," Daphne refuted before swallowing and saying, in a tiny voice, "I lost my chance."
Again, Astoria shook her head. "As a sister," she managed to rasp out.
"Hush, Tori," Daphne whispered while gently pushing Astoria's sweat-ridden hair from her face. "Just breathe with me."
-GU-
Harry arrived on the dais in the room where the Mirror of Erised resided, unsurprised that Fawkes took him here. He chuckled and cracked his neck as he strode forward.
"Fitting you took me here, buddy," Harry said in a gentle tone, his previous malevolence having left him. "It is, after all, tradition for me to visit the Mirror before departi-"
He stopped mid-sentence as he stared at the Mirror.
Then he began to laugh.
-GU-
"Oh my gods!" Daphne said in a cracked, broken voice that was laced with tears.
"Harr-!" Astoria was cut-off by a violent fit of coughing.
Daphne turned to her sister and caught a glimpse of the staff table as she did, giving her immediate pause.
Dumbledore looked triumphant, his eyes twinkling madly.
-GU-
Staring back at Harry was not the image of his parents, his older self, his Godfather, or even older Daphne and their daughter.
It was a tombstone.
A tombstone that read Harry James Potter, Died October 10, 1995.
Fawkes flapped his wings and took flight while singing a comforting, haunting song. Sasha hissed and tightened herself around Harry's torso; Dobby released Harry's hand, fidgeting nervously.
Harry, half-drunk with crazed laughter, slowly began raising his wand.
His hand spasmed violently.
FUCKING CRUCIO! Harry screamed in his mind.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
The blasting curse rocketed toward the Mirror of Erised, connecting and shattering the artifact into a million pieces. Harry, chest heaving, stared at the object with unmitigated loathing.
Fawkes, still singing, landed on Harry's shoulder and nuzzled his cheek. Harry sighed resignedly.
"Let's go," he said defeatedly.
-GU-
Why does Dumbledore want Harry to die? Daphne thought in confusion. That's the only explanation for his reaction to the memory just now.
"Harry!" Astoria whimpered as her body shook from the strain of holding back her coughs. "No…"
Daphne held her baby sister while she wept silently.
Couldn't he have just killed Harry himself, if that's what he's aiming for? Daphne continued to ponder. No… That's not it. There's something I'm missing, something involving Voldemort.
She glanced over at Dumbledore who looked contemplative, as if he was re-analyzing a chess board.
"Just what are you up to?" Daphne whispered under her breath.
-GU-
October 10, 1995, appeared on the screen once again. Harry stood in 12 Grimmauld Place outside the door to Sirius's room. He hesitated as he reached for the handle with a spasming hand. A crack of apparation caused him to withdraw and turn toward Dobby, who had just appeared.
"The Chamber and Room have been packed, Master Harry," Dobby informed.
"And the portraits?"
"They is in the living room, Sir," Dobby bowed.
"Thank you, my friend," Harry smiled. "I have some things from this place I'd like to take with us. Namely the Black Family Library. Can you please pack it as well?"
Dobby snapped his fingers and disappeared.
Sighing, Harry opened the door and pushed through, entering his Godfather's room. He thoroughly scoured it for anything and everything of use or sentimental. He swallowed heavily, choking back a wave of emotion, when he found a package addressed to him, wrapped with a flamboyant bow.
A birthday gift Sirius never got to give him.
Opening it reverently, Harry sobbed when dark green robes, boots and gloves spilled from the box. The items of clothing were so dark they appeared black, but revealed their true color under light, almost glistening.
"Basilisk hide robes," Harry said in a watery tone as he began disrobing.
They fit perfectly.
Heading downstairs, Harry stopped in the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea, using the same mugs Sirius always did. He resolved to take those with him and made a mental note to inform Dobby to include them in his packing.
Reaching into his robes, Harry withdrew his mirror and gently placed his wand on it.
"Andromeda Tonks."
-GU-
October 13, 1995, flashed across the screen. Harry appeared within the Gringotts waiting room in a flash of phoenix fire. Sasha hissed contentedly as she wrapped around his torso, her head resting on his right shoulder while Fawkes landed on his left and chirruped.
Harry stared into the flames of the hearth until a door opened in the distance. He turned and strode toward Agnok who did a double take when he saw Harry.
"L-Lord Slytherin," Agnok bowed low, averting his gaze from Sasha whose tongue flicked out periodically as she lazily observed the goblin.
"Peace, Agnok," Harry chuckled and raised his hand. "Sasha will not harm you."
He hissed gently in parseltongue at his familiar and felt a smug satisfaction as Agnok involuntarily shivered.
"What can Gringotts do for you today, my Lord?"
"I find myself in a bit of a predicament, my friend," Harry said as he gestured for the Potter account manager to lead on. "But such conversation is better held within the confines of your office."
Agnok assumed a businesslike expression and led the way, Harry pacing him easily. They arrived in Agnok's office and Harry took a seat, leaning back and steepling his fingers. Agnok chuckled.
"I see the former Lord Black's teachings did not go unapplied."
Harry inclined his head graciously. "There is no higher praise you can bestow upon me than that. I thank you."
Agnok cleared his throat. "Lord Slytherin, Gringotts can assure you that the Tonks family's secret-keeper will not-"
"That's not why I am here," Harry interrupted. "I know Goblins do not betray their clientele."
Agnok motioned for him to continue.
"I am here for the Peverell lordship," Harry said calmly.
The account manager blanched. "We have not finished-"
"Your tests are unnecessary," Harry interjected once more while shooing away any forthcoming concerns. "I am here for the Peverell lordship. Fetch the ring."
Agnok opened a desk drawer and hesitated. "My Lord…" he trailed off, considering his words. "You understand the consequences should you be wrong?"
"I do."
Sasha purred, although it sounded more like an irritated hiss. Fawkes cooed gently. Clearly not wanting to offend Lord Slytherin, or his pet basilisk, or his pet phoenix, Agnok withdrew a small box from his desk and set it down. A gentle push of his clawed hand presented it to Harry.
Harry stared at the Peverell crest, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows, and reached out, plucking the ring from its box casually. Without hesitation, he slid the ring onto his free index finger. There was a violent, pale green flash, and Harry growled, doubling over in pain as his magic flared.
Sasha hissed and spat angrily as she suddenly swelled to twice her size before returning to normal just as swiftly. Agnok's eyes widened in fear as Sasha bared her fangs at the account manager. Harry, still bent over, hissed out in parseltongue and Sasha settled once more as his magic began to stabilize.
There was another pale green flash and Harry exhaled slowly, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow as he sat up straight before leaning back in his chair with closed eyes. There was a cold wind that ruffled the papers on Agnok's desk when Harry opened his eyes which briefly shone a killing curse green before returning to their usual emerald color.
Agnok stared at the boy in pure shock.
"Well, that was quite the experience," Harry said nonchalantly as he nuzzled Fawkes with his finger, causing the phoenix to preen. His other hand casually stroked Sasha, soothing the basilisk and setting her purring once more. "Agnok," Harry called, breaking the Goblin's stupor.
"M-My Lord?"
"I wish to speak with Croaker in the Department of Mysteries."
Agnok's beady eyes appeared as if they were going to bug out of their sockets. "Th-" he choked and cleared his throat and spoke tremulously, "the Department of Mysteries do not respond to such requests, my Lord."
Harry frowned.
"Even from one as esteemed as yourself," Agnok added shakily.
"He will answer," Harry assured. "Inform him that Lord Peverell wishes to speak with him."
"I- It will be done, my Lord," Agnok assured with an inclination of his head.
Satisfied, Harry stood to leave. "Oh, and Agnok?"
"Lord Peverell?"
"I trust your discretion will be executed. I should find myself most put out if any were to know of what has occurred here."
Agnok shook his head vehemently as Sasha eyed him critically.
"I also trust that none will be made aware of my visit today."
Sasha appeared to smile at the account manager, proudly displaying her fangs.
"O-of c-course, my Lord Peverell," Agnok bowed repeatedly.
"Then may your coffers overrun with gold, my friend," Harry smirked.
"And may your enemies fall at your feet," Agnok returned.
Harry chuckled darkly and vanished in a flash of phoenix fire.
-GU-
"Thank Morgana!" Astoria hissed as she glowered at the screen. "That bloody idiot!"
Daphne nodded, dumbfounded. "He did that so- so casually," she said in a troubled voice while turning, wide-eyed, to stare at Astoria. "Did he truly understand the ramifications had he been wrong?"
"He said he did," Astoria reminded her older sister.
Daphne bit her lower lip, a few stray tears falling from her bloodshot eyes. "What if he just doesn't care anymore?"
Astoria stared morosely at the screen, her sentiments mirroring Daphne's. "That makes much more sense," she agreed softly.
Murmurs erupted around the Great Hall as students, professors and reporters all processed that Harry Potter now carried five lordships, one of which was older than the founders of Hogwarts themselves. Not to mention the borderline suicidal behavior of donning an unconfirmed Lordship ring.
"Dumbledore seems unperturbed," Daphne observed and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe.
Astoria coughed, her breathing ragged. "Yeah…"
-GU-
October 15, 1995, appeared on the screen. Harry had the hood of his invisibility cloak drawn up, and Sasha coiled around his torso with her head in its now-usual resting place atop his right shoulder. He entered the Ministry warily and with wand in hand, not trusting the alleged assurances of Croaker that he would be unhindered.
Voldemort had yet to reveal himself, Harry knew, which meant that it was unlikely there would be detections in place to discover Harry, even with his cloak. Harry was taking no chances, however, and took his time making it to the elevator, where he huddled in a corner while people piled in and out.
It took several stops, but Harry eventually managed to get to the floor of the Department of Mysteries and make his way to the main antechamber leading to his destination. There, wearing dark gray robes, a mask that concealed his face, and the word 'Croaker' running down both sleeves, stood a tall…someone who turned and appeared to stare directly at Harry, although there were no eyes visible.
All Harry could see was a black void where the face should be, courtesy of whatever magical mask the Unspeakables wore.
Harry dropped the hood of his cloak, revealing himself, and Sasha by proxy. Despite the person before him being the Head Unspeakable, the man wisely took a step backwards when Sasha hissed warningly.
"Harry Potter," a monotone voice emanated from the man as his head cocked to the side ever so slightly. "Fascinating."
"Croaker," Harry greeted, his eyes taking in his surroundings and looking for any traps.
"There are no dangers here, young Potter," Croaker said.
Fawkes burst into the room in a flash of fire, chirruping and landing on Harry's left shoulder where he nuzzled Harry lovingly on the cheek. Comforted, Harry lowered his wand but did not sheath it.
"You have powerful servants," Croaker observed.
"Friends," Harry corrected with narrowed eyes. Fawkes chirped indignantly and Sasha purred, her tongue flicking out.
"When Sirius Black contacted me regarding Soul Magic, I was unaware he was referring to someone as notorious as yourself," Croaker spoke, and Harry swore he sounded amused.
"Sirius Black died a hero," Harry said coldly. "I am Lord Black now."
"My condolences," Croaker inclined his head.
Harry held up his index finger, showing the Peverell ring. "I am also Lord Peverell. I doubt you care much for my other titles."
"On the contrary, Lord Slytherin-Ravenclaw," Croaker definitely sounded amused to Harry. "I find my curiosity thoroughly stoked." The Unspeakable turned and beckoned over his shoulder. "Come. We have much to discuss."
"Before we do," Harry said, causing Croaker to halt. "I have been told there is a prophecy concerning myself and Voldemort. I wish to see it."
The fact that Croaker didn't so much as flinch when the Dark Lord's name was spoken was not lost on Harry.
"Nothing is free, Lord Potter."
Harry steeled his expression, nodding tersely. Ted had warned him this would be the case when dealing with Unspeakables.
"Dobby," Harry called, and the house-elf appeared with a pop. "Bring the Founders."
Dobby snapped his fingers and the portrait of Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw appeared in the antechamber, hovering beside their Heir.
"You are full of surprises," Croaker noted, clearly pleased. "Very well. To the Hall of Prophecy."
Harry followed quietly, wondering just how much this was going to cost him in the end.
-GU-
Harry ran his thumb along the blue orb in his hand which swirled with a living fog. The initials had been easy enough to figure out, especially considering the rather ridiculous name Dumbledore had. A prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney, witnessed by Dumbledore, concerning Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.
Lovely, Harry deadpanned internally.
Croaker led him to a small viewing chamber in which resided a singular pedestal with a circular recess in its center. Croaker gestured lazily, his voice echoing in the small room.
"Place the orb in the recess."
-GU-
Dumbledore stood and brandished his wand, prompting McGonagall and Flitwick to both rise to their feet, prepared to fight once more. There was a sudden burst of magic that forced the three back into their seats. A shimmering barrier fell around Dumbledore who frowned and pursed his lips as he analyzed it.
Off to the side, Daphne and Astoria watched this occur, both gawking like fish.
"Did you see that?" Astoria whispered.
Daphne nodded. "Dumbledore really doesn't want Harry to show the prophecy."
"Looks like Harry's going to do it anyway," Astoria pointed at the screen.
-GU-
Harry complied and observed as the fog swirled faster and faster before coalescing outside the orb where it began to form shapes before an ethereal voice began speaking.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
The fog flickered and dissipated, drawing back into the orb which Harry automatically removed as the Ravenclaw within him began analyzing the prophecy from multiple angles.
"When fulfilled, the orb goes dormant," Croaker informed as he led Harry out of the viewing chamber.
Harry didn't acknowledge the statement, his mind still racing.
"Surely you have worked it out by now?"
Harry nearly tripped, the action eliciting a simultaneous squawk and hiss of irritation.
"Marked as his equal by a curse that leaves no mark," Croaker continued in his monotone voice.
And then it clicked.
"Neither can live while the other survives," Harry hummed.
Croaker paused at a thick door where he waved his hand. Several invisible runes lit up before an audible click resounded and the door swung open silently. Harry followed the Head Unspeakable into what could only be his office which contained a hearth, a desk littered with papers, and a small table with two plushy chairs.
Croaker took a seat in one of the chairs and motioned for Harry to take the other, which he did with a grateful nod. Harry was aware of Croaker silently scrutinizing him, but he refused to fidget beneath the man's intensity. Harry sighed after nearly a minute of silence, uttering words he knew, at his core, were true.
"I am a horcrux."
"Correctly derived," Croaker intoned.
Fawkes sang a soft song, lifting Harry's rapidly darkening countenance.
"Can it be removed?" Harry asked.
"…Potentially."
"Explain."
"There are many ways to destroy a horcrux," Croaker explained. "The killing curse easily destroys them, especially when one realizes the very nature of a horcrux is to contain a soul to provide an ill-advised immortality."
"Any other ways?"
"Fiendfyre is thought to destroy them," Croaker steepled his hands. "However, such a course is wrought with unnecessary peril. Basilisk venom is also quite effective against them."
Harry blinked, remembering his time in the Chamber of Secrets. He absently stroked Sasha's head.
"I have access to a basilisk," he muttered.
"And the only known cure to her venom," Croaker indicated Fawkes, who preened and chirped happily.
Sasha raised her head and glared at Fawkes.
"Master, The Fawkes is gloating. May I eat him?"
"Hush, Sasha. Let him preen."
"If you insist, Master," Sasha huffed and settled.
"Trouble?" Croaker queried.
"Just a jealous basilisk," Harry smirked. "Would having Sasha bite me and Fawkes heal me…" he trailed off. "Yeah, that won't work. It didn't in the Chamber of Secrets."
Croaker leaned forward. "The Chamber is real?"
"Of course it's real!" Salazar barked, having been uncharacteristically quiet during the exchange. "Horcruxes are a fool's errand," Salazar sniffed. "Herpo the Foul showed just how deep the consequences of such dark magic go."
"Oh, I remember him," Rowena chimed in. "Wasn't he the original breeder of the basilisk?"
Salazar blanched. "That's not the point, my love!"
"You seemed more than happy to accept Serena from him," Rowena raised an eyebrow.
"Serena was special," Salazar countered and set about imperiously stroking his beard. "It could be argued that she was my greatest achievement!"
Rowena narrowed her eyes. "Not marrying the Rowena Ravenclaw?"
Salazar sputtered and Harry determined to intervene before 'Papa Sal' dug his proverbial grave deeper.
"The consequences?"
"R-Right," Salazar straightened, properly cowed by his wife. "After he made his horcrux, Herpo went mad and became nothing more than a psychopathic killer. He was once a brilliant mind that made such elegant creatures as the basilisk," Salazar eyed Rowena nervously but she gave him an encouraging nod. "But he lost much of his brilliance as it twisted to malevolence."
"There was a reason he was called 'The Foul'," Rowena quipped.
"A rudimentary explanation, but nonetheless accurate," Croaker said.
"Rudimentary?" Salazar bristled.
"I meant no offense, Venerable Elder," Croaker replied. "I have studied the very realm of Death himself for thirty years and am likely the foremost expert on Soul Magic."
"Y-Yes," Salazar stammered, preening at how Croaker addressed him. "Very well then, carry on."
"Oh, Sal," Rowena rolled her eyes and winked at Croaker.
"While most texts will correctly explain the purpose of a horcrux, in that it allows one to escape death," Croaker chortled, the sound unnatural, as if privy to some inside joke. "Very few explain a far more beneficial aspect of such evil magic."
"That being?" Harry prompted.
"The amplification of power," Croaker continued. "When one makes a horcrux, they trade a portion of their sanity for an exponential rise in magical power. The ratio is determined directly by the percentage of one's soul that is poured into the housing object."
"When you say exponential…" Rowena trailed off, staring intently at Croaker who nodded, once.
"I mean exponential," Croaker confirmed. "A single horcrux doubles one's power, two would quadruple their power."
"And all the while the lunatic doing so would become more batshit crazy than before!" Salazar barked.
"Language, Sal!" Rowena chided.
"But it's true, my love!" Salazar protested.
"Nevertheless, there are children present!" Rowena scowled.
Salazar appeared befuddled. "Have you listened to the words coming from our Heir?"
Rowena rolled her eyes. "I wasn't speaking about Harry, dearest."
Sasha raised her head and glared at the portraits. "I am not a child!" she said petulantly.
"Don't backtalk your elders!" Salazar scolded.
Fawkes chirruped in only what could be described as laughter. Sasha hissed angrily and rounded on Fawkes, only for Harry to intervene.
"Enough! Settle down, Sasha."
Sasha grumbled and made sure Harry knew her displeasure but obeyed.
"And you," Harry poked Fawkes who squawked. "Quit antagonizing the scary snake."
Fawkes hid his head beneath his wing, whether in shame or fury Harry was unsure.
"I could observe you five for hours," Croaker hummed. "Especially the interaction between the phoenix and basilisk. You do realize they are naturally mortal enemies?"
"Oh, I'm more than aware," Harry snorted. "They remind me every half hour." He shook his head but was unable to contain the wry grin as he did. "Back on topic. What happens when a horcrux is destroyed?"
"The exponential gain in power is lost," Croaker replied instantly.
"And their sanity?"
"Never to return."
"So, I have to die?"
"That is certainly the most effective way to destroy the horcrux," Croaker stood and pulled a tome from a nearby bookshelf, lazily leafing through it. He paused on a particular page and read for several minutes in silence. "There has been speculation by Unspeakables prior to me, who studied The Death Chamber, in regard to living horcruxes."
Harry straightened. "And?"
"The soul is a… finicky entity," Croaker said slowly. "When two souls share the same vessel, they naturally war against one another. Most speculate, wrongly, that the larger, more powerful portion will absorb the smaller portion. This is not the case."
Harry nodded. "The smaller portion becomes a leech."
"Correct. Thus, it has been theorized that if the vessel willingly gives up their life, the smaller, weaker portion would be the one destroyed. I speak, of course, regarding the killing curse."
"Just how have you learned this?" Rowena pressed. "Surely you have not experimented with Soul Magic in such a way?"
"Grindelwald was not concerned with ethics," Croaker addressed Rowena. "During the war, he experimented heavily on prisoners and, by proxy, advanced our understanding of magics." Croaker held up his hand to prevent a rising tirade. "I do not condone such atrocities. I merely cite them as the reasons for our current understanding."
"The world was much simpler in our time, my love," Salazar said, sounding ill as he did so.
"So it would seem, my love," Rowena sighed. "I find myself thoroughly disgusted."
"I have to willingly die to a killing curse?" Harry thought aloud, several realizations occurring at once. "That's why Dumbledore kept allowing me to face Voldemort!" He stood suddenly, causing Fawkes to flap his wings to maintain his perch, and began pacing.
"It is only speculation," Croaker reminded the pacing Lord Peverell.
"But would it be more plausible if Voldemort himself did it?"
"Unknown," Croaker shrugged. "Potentially? It may even allow for circumvention of the willingness."
"But Dumbledore could have spoken to your predecessors," Harry waved absently in Croaker's direction. "No… This is why Dumbledore has never intervened. He wants Voldemort to kill me."
"The prophecy," Rowena said in horror.
"Neither can live while the other survives," Salazar nodded.
"Quirrell first year," Harry muttered, "but Voldemort did not have the power necessary to cast the killing curse. The basilisk second year, but Fawkes intervened, likely against Dumbledore's will." Fawkes squawked proudly and puffed out his chest. "Additionally, it was a younger Tom Riddle-"
"Riddle?" Croaker interrupted with an audible eagerness to his tone.
"I Am Lord Voldemort is an anagram for his real name," Harry explained while his mind continued to race furiously. "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
Croaker remained silent, and Harry didn't catch his visible shift in stance.
"Third year, Pettigrew was forced to act when Sirius escaped. Dumbledore needed Tom to get his body back," Harry stopped and slammed his fist into his palm. "That's why they let Pettigrew go!" He frowned. "But what about Cyrus Greengrass?"
"Spies are often unaware of other spies, my Heir," Salazar called.
"Compartmentalization is the best way to control information in organizations," Rowena agreed.
"Okay," Harry nodded. "Then they let Pettigrew go thinking he was the only option, not realizing Cyrus and Daphne were serving the same master."
"Which culminated with the revival of this self-proclaimed 'Dark Lord' during the Triwizard tournament," Salazar finished.
"I would enjoy hearing this tale," Croaker had taken a seat behind his desk and was pouring over papers.
"Is there any chance it would have worked?" Harry asked the Head Unspeakable.
"What?" Croaker looked up.
"Voldemort hitting me with the killing curse," Harry clarified.
Croaker snorted. "The odds would be infinitesimal that you would survive."
"And if I willingly died?"
"The answer remains the same, Lord Peverell, even with your direct connection to Death through the Peverell bloodline."
"Not this again," Salazar groaned. "I swear, those three are rolling in their graves with laughter."
"Is there any chance Dumbledore would have-"
"Dumbledore is a brilliant and powerful man," Croaker interrupted. "A giant among ants. Yet he is not all-knowing. I have advanced our understanding on both Soul Magic and Death nearly a century from where it was when I assumed this position."
Croaker stood and approached Harry, pausing a few steps from him. The faceless void that was his mask boring into Harry as he spoke his next damning words. "Albus Dumbledore is brilliant. Having heard the prophecy, just as you have, he would have easily ascertained its true meaning. The very scar you carry from a curse that leaves no mark is proof enough that Voldemort intended to use your murder to make a horcrux."
"And he knew I would have to die and has been orchestrating events to allow for that opportunity," Harry finished in a dead voice.
"I find your earlier comment curious, Venerable Elder," Croaker turned to Salazar. "You doubt the Peverell connection to Death?"
"Absolutely," Salazar sniffed. "They always fancied themselves the 'Masters of Death'," he mocked.
"And so they were," Croaker said.
Salazar gawked and Rowena's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"I want it out," Harry said, silencing the room.
"We have already discussed-" Croaker attempted.
"NO!" Harry shouted. "I want it out!" He ripped off his invisibility cloak, holding it out for Croaker to see. "Do you know what this is?"
"An invisibility cloak," Croaker replied.
"A Deathly Hallow," Harry corrected. "Death's personal cloak."
An uneasy silence hung in the air as Croaker stood unmoving while Harry struggled to control the raw emotion threatening to erupt from recent revelations.
"We have much to discuss," Croaker finally said.
"I want it out," Harry repeated, withdrawing his cloak and smirking when Croaker took an automatic step forward.
Croaker sighed, his mask distorting the sound. "There is a ritual, developed during the Grindelwald campaign. It was used as a method to entice prisoners of war with the prospect of freedom, should they successfully complete it. It involved creating a living horcrux using the prisoner's body as a vessel and then having the prisoner attempt to remove the offending soul piece."
"Barbaric," Rowena whispered.
"What was the mortality rate?" Harry demanded.
"One hundred percent."
Harry nuzzled Fawkes with his finger and absently stroked Sasha's snout.
"Acceptable."
