Key:

"Words."

Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used

~~Parseltongue~~

¬¬Foreign Language¬¬

"Magical language."

Watch Out France, the British are Coming!

12th November 1993 (3 years, 148 days diluted) – Room of Requirement

The threat hung in the air for a moment longer before Harry clapped his hands hard, making the group jump. "Now, before we get to all the fancy magic, there's one thing we need to discuss first: Occlumency."

Harry got a few head nods at the word, but also enough blank stares that he knew to continue the general lesson. "The defensive side of the Mind Arts is a tricky bit of magic, but the two parts of it you need to be aware of are the ability to organise your memories and protect your mind from outside influences. You might not believe me, but they are both as important as the other. But we'll start with protecting yourself from outside influences."

"Some people create a solid magical barrier between their mind and the outside world, and I'd guess it is the type of protections those of you who have heard of Occlumency were told of?" He got affirmative nods to his question. "It is an excellent way of keeping out influences, but even the strongest magical shield can fall. A mental shield is only as powerful as you can make it. A strong enough attack for a long enough period of time will bring down anyone's mental barriers."

"Even yours?" Justin asked, only to cringe in his seat as the pure-bloods hissed at him for questioning Harry. The Lord of Magic raised a hand, and they instantly silenced.

"I know what I am, but I told you before. You're here to learn, not worship, and learning includes questioning." He let the words hang in the air, staring at those who had turned on the Hufflepuff until he was sure they understood. "Yes, even my protections can fall. The real question, Justin, is how powerful would an attack need to be and how long would it need to go on for to make that happen? You're a first generation mage, so you'll understand this more than most. Imagine a curse tied to the life span of the sun. Vernaculi have calculated the lifespan of the sun. It will die one day, but is there any point in treating that curse as though it'll end?"

"Bloody hell, no." Justin's eyes widened.

"It would take an attack of incredible power for an extended period to break through my mental shields," Harry said, giving the boy a pleased nod at understanding his point. "And that is where the other side of protecting your mind comes in. Just because someone or something gets inside, it doesn't mean that they can do anything to you."

The room vanished, and the group found themselves on an endless field of grass. All bar Luna and Flitwick gripped their chairs and made some type of shocked noise. "Imagine someone trying to read your thoughts or even control them, and this is what they find. Or perhaps you've made your protections something else?"

More gasps, with some students pulling their legs beneath them as the group – including the desk Harry continued to lean on – rose until they were in the clouds.

"We're in the mind of a real airhead now, Fred," George shot out as he gazed in wonder around him. His twin could only nod. Muted chuckles came from the others.

"Or perhaps you want your mind to be somewhere familiar with some protectors?" Harry continued, the clouds below them parting to reveal a bird's-eye view of Hogwarts. Even at that height, they could see dragons and other magical creatures roaming the area around the castle. "Or perhaps somewhere that never existed?"

The castle shimmered and twisted, elongating and flattening until it became an impossible maze that caused headaches to those trying to find a solution.

"Or maybe you're really ambitious and want any invading mind to see to everything." The group shot up out of the atmosphere and even Flitwick and Luna had their mouths open at what they were seeing. Harry threw out his arms and gave them a wide, beaming grin. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the universe!"

It was a panorama of the images of the universe Harry had seen from visiting the Science Museum in London and the many astrology books he had browsed during the summer. Stars of various colours blazed around them and they saw a variety of shaped and sized nebula in the distance.

"What is this, Potter?" Cedric demanded, eyes bulging at the majesty of the view.

"This is everything non-magicals know of the universe. This is what's above our heads every moment of every day. It all exists just beyond our sun and the other planets. Of course, no one would blame you if you wanted to scale down your mental image. Perhaps, rather than wanting to show an attacker everything, you showed them nothing."

Harry's last word plunged them into utter darkness, causing many to cry out or even scream. It was the darkness of a moonless country night, the darkness of Harry's cupboard. When you couldn't even see the hand in front of your face. "Imagine it. Someone invading your mind and this is what they find. Nothing. No way out, no thoughts to read or control. How long could an attacker stay sane if you didn't let them leave?"

Light returned gradually to not harm their eyesight, and the group found they were looking at the room as it had originally been. "And that, my Apprentices, is just a sample of the varied ways you can protect your thoughts should someone or something look to influence them. I'm sure Master Flitwick will be happy to help you learn this art if I'm not available."

"Absolutely, my Lord," the wide-eyed Charms professor nodded. What Harry called them swept away any shock or horror at his last example. A single word that proved his offer was real.

"And now we move on to the other part of Occlumency," Harry continued with a sigh. "Organising your memories isn't as easy as it sounds, and often gets misunderstood. The process involves you looking at your memories and then cataloging them. The benefits of this include a greater ability to recall information or connect two unique pieces of information together, along with an awareness if your mind is being influenced. An Occlumens Master would always know if someone messed with their memories, even if they can't repair those memories. Now, these two parts of the Mind Arts are more connected than you might think. You will have to rebuild your mental defences as you work through your memories. This is not you failing, but growing as an Occlumens. But you must understand something important. Working through your memories is not just looking at it and then putting it in a mental library, you must understand the memory. You must accept the memory, no matter what it is."

Harry sighed again. He expected the frowns he got back at his warning, but it didn't mean he was happy about seeing them. A look at Flitwick told him the man was just as disappointed. "I have a collection of memories of being with my parents. It's rare that someone remembers something from such a young age, but my mentor refused to let me look at them until I watched the Halloween attack."

Faces paled. They hadn't connected his words to reality until that moment. "Most people would want to push that memory away and never watch it, or only watch it once to get to the better ones. I watched it for days, hour after hour, until it could no long control me. If I had not done so, then that attack would have dominated my mind and shaped me into someone new. I might have grown resentful of my parents for not doing something else, anything else, to survive the attack, and it could have made me believe every parent would eventually fail their children. Even me when I have some. Or maybe it festered, and I saw anyone who used Dark magic or was a Slytherin in Hogwarts, or was a Parselmouth – including myself – as evil. I could have become the reverse You-Know-Who, hunting down and destroying families for not giving up Dark magic that I 'knew' was the cause of losing my family. There is no telling what that memory could have twisted me into becoming."

Harry met each gaze to make sure they understood how seriousness he was being. "If you come across a memory that you absolutely cannot get past, then you are to stop organising your old memories. It is better to leave the process half complete than to believe one memory can't influence you that much. And it can be anything. Maybe it's what gave you a phobia. Maybe it's an argument you've had with a friend or family member. The memories that you find you want to push away and never look at are the exact ones you must overcome or stop at."

"Mister Potter is right," Filius added, the students turning as one to look at him. "I've heard stories of people turning on their family for ignoring this warning. An unconquered memory can cause obsession and paranoia in the witch or wizard, and that is if they're lucky. I will aid you as much as I can with this process, no matter how personal your memories are."

"Aside from myself, Master Flitwick is the only one who will have access to this room. He or I can bring you here to listen, and the Aegis will remain in effect. We will use nothing you tell us against you," he promised, giving them a moment before standing straight and drawing his wand. A quick flourish of his hand conjured a marble rectangular slab on four narrow wooden legs. "Now, you're here to learn the art of magic in all her glory, so here's your first lesson!"

The conjuration brought gasps from the students. The thick marble was more than a foot thick and large enough that the group of near-twenty could have a banquet on it. It was the first time they saw the ease with which Harry wielded magic outside of the Patronus spell. He had always kept up appearances as an advanced Hogwarts student in his classes and even the Magic Club, as some had dubbed the extracurricular meetings, but they were now seeing the Lord of Magic without the self-restraints.

"The pillars of a magical spell are intent, willpower, creativity, and power," he told them. A twitch of his wand that some would swear they'd imagined had each of the four legs light up in time with the four terms. "Generally, casting a spell requires all four, but it is possible to do magic without one of these pillars." A leg vanished, and the marble didn't react. "Or even two, if you're lucky."

The diagonally opposite leg also vanished, and the marble remained balanced on the two remaining legs. Another twitch of the wand caused the two legs to thicken while the missing ones returned, albeit thinner than they were. "But we have no arithmetic formula telling us how much of each pillar we need for each spell. And so, you'll never know if the spell will succeed without one pillar or..."

One of the thick legs vanished and the thinner two snapped under the marble's weight. Even Flitwick covered his ears at the enormous crash the slab made as it hit the floor, cracking into chunks. Harry let the image remain for a moment longer before vanishing the mess and continuing his lesson.

"However, what we do have are generalities. Transfiguration requires an immense amount of willpower and creativity. A mage needs to possess strong willpower to alter the base nature of the target as its nature will resist the change, and the creativity to ensure their magic has the details and intent to create the desired outcome. This is why we start small in our Transfiguration class and move up. The match to needle change is so we can believe we can do the spell. Our willpower. We have to work on the details of the needle. Our creativity. While the lessons and how they're taught are lacking, that is the general thinking behind them."

"Hang on," Cedric spoke up, the fifth year looking like he'd just has a "eureka" moment. "Is this the unknown variable in the transformation formula?"

"It is indeed, Mister Diggory," Flitwick beamed. "Five points to Hufflepuff!"

"Charms, hexes, curses, and other such spells lean more on intent and power," Harry continued. "The obvious example are the Unforgivables which demand the caster to want a person to be dominated, killed, or feel pain. But do not make the mistake that only 'Dark' spells require such intent. You must want that feather to float, or that object to come to you, or anything else when using what it considered charms. Hexes or curses can switch around between needing more intent or more creativity, depending on the result desired, and can even overlap. Where transfiguration demands complete intent to achieve a perfect spell, hexes and curses are more fluid. If you were to charm someone's hair green, green it will become, and the level or focus of your intent or creativity will adjust what green their hair becomes."

Harry paused to be sure they were following, and it pleased him to see they were. "You all heard me tell Hermione that people who lean towards transfiguration are more rigid in their thinking. This could naturally lean you to thinking those who lean toward charms are more fluid and creative in their thinking. This is not necessarily so. What is true is that Charms Masters are highly creative and fluid in their thinking to aid them in using charms."

He stopped and chuckled when he got blank looks along with a frown from Flitwick.

"Are you sure they need this much detail so soon?" the professor asked.

"Trust me, Sir, I'm going somewhere with this."

It didn't take long for the Charms Master to work out where, and he bowed his head in understanding.

"What do I mean?" Harry rhetorically asked, chuckling when he got an exaggerated 'get on with it' hand wave from the twins. "A person like Hermione will have spell chains and predetermined spells for specific situations, whereas true Charms Masters like Master Flitwick will have out-of-the-box thinking of using whatever charm they need in any situation. A Charms Master will have no problem in using a prank spell during a life and death battle if it gains them an opportunity for something more lethal. It wouldn't be Hermione's rigid thinking that keeps her from getting a Mastery in Charms, but...?"

Green eyes swept across the room and it didn't surprise Harry when the DMLE head's niece answered him.

"She only sees one way of using spells," Susan spoke up, blushing as everyone turned to her. The girl who would be the next Lady Bones struggled to meet Harry's gaze, knowing what he was. "But isn't that the same thing?"

"Not so, Susan. And this circles back to Occlumency and organising your mind. Because Occlumency also allows you to understand yourself. Those who are more rigid in their thinking but who need spontaneity with their spell choices can use their Occlumency to pre-create a list of spells of certain situations. They can literally spend their spare time preparing for every eventuality. Whereas someone like Master Flitwick may come up with something on the fly – like a person creating a brand new potion with no aid. A more rigid person would have practiced and memorised so many variations of situations that they can then pick something else to do -"

"Like someone who has memorised hundreds of recipes putting them together to make one that works with whatever ingredients they have," Blaise interrupted.

"Exactly. The first potioneer will make something brand new, the second adjusts what they are already familiar with. If their results are a win, it doesn't matter which path is used to get there."

"Why isn't this taught in class?" Daphne demanded to know. Her eyes were alight with taking the information to its logical conclusion and she didn't look happy at what she worked out. The question had the others making noises of agreement. Filius provided the answer.

"Because it produces students with too varied a range of skills, Miss Greengrass. It is why the curriculum has a set list of spells to be cast silently despite it being known that not everyone can do so. That list is the spells that are the most commonly performed silent."

"You wot?" Ron gaped.

"It's true, mate," Harry nodded. "It's literally impossible for anyone to perform every spell wandless or silently. The best guess we have is that everything we are – our personalities, our bodies, our magic, our experiences, everything – is like a large list of potions ingredients and performing a spell silently or without a wand is a potion with a very specific recipe."

"If you don't have the ingredients, then you'll never be able to do the spell," Neville finished. The students were shocked, even horrified at what they were hearing, but that feeling was turning to anger.

"Does that mean we're being set up to fail?" Padma demanded.

"In a word, no," Harry answered, leaning back against the desk with his palms against its edge. He sighed, remembering how furious he had been when Sal had explained this to him. "At least not completely. The WEA has decided everyone's education is to be as basic and general as possible. Those who need more tutoring or a different way of learning are left to flounder. The teachers can teach you things that they're forbidden to in class, but it's up to them. Master Flitwick still faces discrimination from the Ministry and has to wait until a student goes to him before he can teach them beyond the WEA's rules, whereas people like McGonagall just teach what she's told to."

"Professor Snape will teach you," Draco spoke out, being careful with his words. He wasn't an idiot and knew Harry and his godfather were a lot closer than they were letting people see. He had no intention of angering either by revealing their secret. "But you have to go to him and ask. He calls it showing initiative."

"No wonder you said Hogwarts isn't like it was," Hannah snarled, her face twisted with anger that her best friend Susan mirrored. "How does no one know this?"

"Because the WEA is one of the most secret departments in the Ministry," Cedric answered her. He had dropped his head in his hands and kept running his fingers through his hair. "I asked dad a few times for some information about the OWLs. Not to cheat, but something like a list of questions from old exams. He told me it was impossible."

"Exam Authorities are the ICW's dirty secret," Harry explained to the group. "If you control what people are taught -"

"You control how they think," Parvati and Lavender said in stereo.

Harry nodded and shared a look with Ron that the others saw and understood. No one had to say it aloud, but they were all thinking it. Hermione was the perfect example of just how much that philosophy could work. It took a cough from Flitwick to have Harry shake himself down.

"Right... the lesson," he said with a rueful smile, getting chuckles in reply. "Intent becomes far more important the more 'drastic' a spell is. It requires far more intent to turn someone's hair into venomous snakes that attack the person, remove their legs, or hit them with a spell that turns their intestines into acid than it does to hit them with a colour changing charm, leg-locking hex, or a bowl-loosening hex. And power can 'brute force' spells, but this is a waste. Sadly, mages often go down this road when they should strive for the opposite. To use only the minimal amount of power required to achieve your goal is how you become great in a world of average mages. And yes, I'll be teaching you how to regulate your power."

Harry turned the lesson into a question-and-answer session, infuriating the curious students with many vague answers while going into detail about what he would teach them if they wanted to learn.

It was a productive first meeting. None noticed Luna hanging back long enough to stare into the room where an essence had been watching. Her eyes glowed as she whispered. "And the Black Flame that should never have been shall step back into the sunlight to darken the world, and Dagor Dagorath follows with him. But the Sleeping Dragon has awoken, and the Once and Future King shall prevail... I hope."

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The same weekend of Harry taking the group as his apprentices would see the Weasley twins gift him with the Marauder's Map. The gingers were stunned when he wistfully used the password and ran his fingertips over the names Prongs and Padfoot. Harry told them how his mother had secretly helped in its creation, how Prongs was James Potter, and even promised to see if he could introduce them to Padfoot and Moony during the summer.

He then had to spend the next ten minutes keeping the pair of crazy monkeys from swearing themselves to him for the rest of their lives.

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The first Defence lesson after the full moon saw Lupin pacing in front of the class. The man had taken Snape's werewolf homework and decided to run with it.. "The first thing you need to know about werewolves is that they only exist for a few hours at a time, one night a month on the full moon. At any other time, they are human, albeit with a medical condition. A curse."

Harry hadn't spoken to the man since the first Hogsmeade weekend, but Severus had told Harry that the Lupin had done a drastic u-turn regarding how he saw himself. Apparently, a combination of Harry's public lecture on Light and Dark Magic, his dismissal of the man who should be his honorary uncle, and Lupin reading the diary entries Severus possessed had somehow coalesced into a giant hammer that smashed the werewolf's low elf-esteem to smithereens. Harry had heard that Sirius had made a snarky comment of 'better late than never' when he got told.

"But, sir?" Lavender asked with a raised hand. "Aren't there three full moon nights?"

"You're correct, Miss Brown. Take two points for Gryffindor. But the curse, and it is a curse, only fully activates on the moon's peak. It is theorised that this may have a connection to the curse's origins, but such things are currently a mystery to all."

Lupin walked back to his desk and mirrored the position Harry had taken during his lesson with his apprentices, leaning against the light wood with his arms crossed. "However, those other two days are where the popular belief that werewolves have enhanced senses or strength outside of their wolf form comes from. The individual's body undergoes a type of pre-transformation change. In some ways, you girls can equate it to the worst period imaginable."

He got numerous winces at that analogy and gave the girls a wry smile of sympathy. "It is during this period that their senses do become somewhat heightened, but only to the same extent that some Animagi have theirs enhanced."

Lupin caught Harry's gaze. They both knew he was fudging the truth with that statement. A werewolf's body was only one-hundred per cent human the night of the new moon. At any other point, the body was either preparing for the transformation or recovering from it. However, not only was Lupin's lie the Ministry declared 'truth,' the extent to how enhanced a werewolf's senses and strength were outside of the three full moon days varied wildly between each one. Sometimes only a rigorous scientific test could determine a person's increased sensory sensitivity, whereas others could come across as 'super human' for most of the lunar cycle.

"They do not form 'soul bonds,' or imprint on people as their chosen mate," Lupin finger-quoted, eye-rolling some giggles that followed. "Nor do they 'knot' their lovers when human."

That image caused shudders to ripple around the room. "There is no romanticism about being a werewolf. Transforming is painful, with those interviewed comparing it to the Cruciatus Curse. The only known medical aid, and it is an aid, not a cure, is the Wolfsbane Potion. It allows the person cursed to keep their mind during the transformation. Some might say it allows the werewolf to act more like a wolf Animagus than the beast they would be without the potion. But the potion comes with a cost. It makes the transformation more painful for the human, as their mind is no longer consumed by the curse as it twists their body into its new, temporary form."

Some of the class paled at what they were hearing, and Lupin nodded at their horrified looks. "Without the Wolfsbane Potion, the werewolf is driven to bite and claw anything nearby, and this often ends up being itself. This is when the werewolf is at its most dangerous and at the highest risk of infecting others. The pain has, for the moment, driven the now animal mad. When the werewolf recovers from the pain, it becomes, ironically, no less of a danger to animals than any other lethal predator. It may hunt to eat during its night of freedom, and it can form bonds with packs of wild wolves, or even other werewolves. I assume some of you have heard the rumours of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest?"

He got a smattering of nods and nodded back to the students who were hanging off his every word. "These rumours are false. If a werewolf stays within the same territory for long enough, the local wolves can eventually welcome them into the pack, where nature will take its course." Snickers followed that statement, with Harry's being the loudest. The teen's smirk only grew at the stink-eye Lupin gave him before continuing. "The female wolf bears a litter of pups, each are a true wolf, only more cunning than their mother. It's rumoured that some even have an almost human-level, but I have yet to find proof of such a claim. What is indisputable is that they do not carry any type of curse of their own." [1]

Lupin let his lecture sink in and then a slow Marauder grin spread across the man's lips. "And now we will discuss vampires and why they seem to have an obsession with billowing cloaks."

The class laughed. Harry gave the man a respectful nod at the move. It would make it appear as though Lupin and Snape were having a back-and-forth with the class as their playing field.

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The term continued on. Harry's 'Magic Club' continued, but no one could mistake the growing closeness between him and his apprentices. He never noticed a glaring Hermione who wondered if her formal friend even noticed her absence. He did. But becoming a personal teacher to eighteen students kept him constantly distracted. The sub-configuration of the Room of Requirement that connected to Flitwick's office had its time frozen, allowing the lessons to last as long as Harry or the professor needed them to. Harry had explained to the man that Hogwarts distorted the group's concept of time in the same way it distorted a person's reality in hiding the Headmaster's office - although Harry didn't tell him that part – so that they never questioned how long they spent in the Room compared to how long the world said they did.

Harry was only glad he wasn't using the Room's time dilation with his class as that would have completely screwed up his personal calender.

The only other incident of note that happened before the end of term was the Amelia Bones recalling Moody and Dora. The Metamorph had snapped at her mentor's paranoia and obsession with following Harry and attacked him one evening when Harry and Flitwick were hosting the Magic Club. It had needed the former Duelling Master to interfere before things turned nasty as Dora had delved into Black family curses in her blind rage. Alas for the young woman, Moody was an old hand at battling Dark mages and had sent some dangerous curses back at his protégé. It had taken a powerful shield from Flitwick, cast before Harry could only because the man was out of the room first, to protect Dora. Harry's glare at the peg-legged man had caused many to shudder, and everyone knew the Lord of Magic was itching to attack the Auror. It had taken a combination of Ron, Draco, and Flitwick to drag Harry away even when Madame Bones arrived.

Amelia had placed Dora on suspension, banned Moody from going back to Hogwarts, and created a rotation of Aurors to patrol the school. Dora's career hung by a thread with politics attempting to influence whether she could continue, but the young woman had no regrets. Harry would find out the man had been constantly making comments about 'bad blood will show' and how his old friends Charlus and Dorea would be spinning in their graves if they saw Harry.

The mother of all storms raged across the Inner Seas off the West Coast of Scotland the night after Harry was told about Moody's words. Those in Hogwarts saw the massive, miles-wide electrical outline of a Thunderbird's incorporeal form as its fury tore into the waters and ripped the skies above the famous castle asunder. The storm lasted the entire night, making many feel like they were witnessing a preview of the End Times, while Salazar, the House ghosts, and a crooning Fawkes looked on from the Room.

Dumbledore and McGonagall watched the impressive display from the headmaster's office.

"Do you think this will birth a new Thunderbird?" she asked her mentor.

"I think not," the old man mused, stroking his beard. "I believe this may be a storm that a witch or wizard has lost control of. The Thunderbird seems far too angry to confine itself to a physical form."

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The last day of term had seen Harry gift his inner circle two Yule presents. Each received personalised pieces of jewellery that would act as an emergency beacon should they ever need him and an enchanted never-ending journals split into two sections. The first halves were linked together, allowing the group to write to each other as a group or to specific individuals, and the second would be their first grimoire akin to how Lily had made hers. He showed them his own version and the spell to split the two halves should they ever wish to do so.

The Forbidden Forest was near pitch black that night. It was only the third night passed after a new moon and Harry stood in one of the deepest parts of the wooded area staring with Dobby next to him and some Hogwarts house-elves behind them.

"All is as you wanted, Master," Dobby promised. "The barrier has trapped them in their hollow. Hagrid is oblivious to the truth, and we are ready to clean up."

"Good."

December had seen the elves under Dobby's command create a Forest-wide barrier that would shrink throughout the month. The barrier was a perfect sphere and allowed no Acromantula to pass, forcing even the smallest of magical arachnids back to their nest. The house-elves had collected every trace of the creatures from the cleared woods while Dobby had channelled some of Harry's magic to help him place a type of Confundus upon Hagrid so that he believed everything was normal to the point of even thinking he had visited his old pet Aragog and spoken to the blind creature

The spiders were starving and trapped, but that wasn't enough for Harry. He cast a powerful shield around himself and stepped through the Elven barrier into the hollow, calling out as he did so. "Aragog! It is Hagrid's friend returned. You remember me, don't you?"

The small elephant sized spider pulled itself forward, its milky eyes struggling to see him even with the glowing bubble that the other Acromantula were desperately trying to break through. "I remember you, friend of Hagrid. Why have you returned? Did you trap my sons and daughters?"

"Well, Hagrid's pet, I thought it was time to return the favour. Hagrid trusted you to not let your children kill me and my friend, and he trusts me to not kill all of you."

Harry let the threat hang in the air mere heartbeats before he shifted. The blind father of the nest screamed in rage and fear as an adolescent basilisk was upon them, the shiny green scales sparking with lightning as the snake and its lethal gaze rampaged through the Acromantula nest. Scores of spiders fell to his eyes, more to lethal doses of electricity when they attempted to attack Harry from behind. The blind spider was desperate, half-pleading for Harry to stop, half-calling his children to run, but the Lord of Magic was ruthless. Eight-legged bodies piled up, only to be summoned out of the barrier by the waiting house-elves who snapped the bodies to a disused part of Hogwarts where others waited to render the creatures down. Aragog's mate launched herself out of the dome-shaped web when Harry was facing away from it, only for the female spider to get hit with enough electricity to fry her insides and cause her eyes to explode.

The waves of spiders eventually slowed, and Harry resorted to shifting back to his human form to cast an overpowered Accio on 'every Acromantula not Aragog' before shifting back to his basilisk form. Small or large mattered not to the rightful Lord of Hogwarts. He killed every one of the invasive creatures without mercy until at last a mentally broken Aragog was the last.

"Monster! Monster, I name you!" the spider roared, its pincers clicking wildly.

"I'm a monster, Hagrid's pet," Harry agreed, sneering at the quivering creature. "I'm a monster that hunts the monsters."

The last thing the blind spider knew was the blurred outline of a snake striking forward to bury its venomous fangs deep in his head.

The nest of Acromantula that had started fifty years prior with the release of a pet was at an end, and none bar a half-giant would ever care.

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Despite Dumbledore and McGonagall's attempts, Harry was on the Hogwarts Express as it raced down to London. The pair couldn't do anything to keep him at the school, not when Flitwick declared in the Great Hall that the former Duelling Master was sponsoring Harry for the upcoming Duelling Convention. When Harry had given the little man a playful stink-eye, he'd smirked and patted his hip where a coin purse would be. Harry just snorted. A delight for him and his purse, for sure, he'd thought.

Official sponsors of participants didn't just get a cut of their sponsee's winnings, but got their own prize money from the convention's organisers for producing a champion. Given Flitwick would also make bets on Harry, the man would be triple-dipping the convention.

Harry's inner circle were split with who was leaving the castle for Yule break, and those remaining behind promised to watch over each other. It had surprised Harry to see Hermione on the train, and the Lord of Magic had struggled for hours over whether he should visit the girl and attempt to reach out to her. In the end, Harry decided to let her have the holidays with her parents and wait until they returned to Hogwarts. He only hoped she liked the ancient history book he'd had Dobby slip into her trunk as a present.

The Rakepicks picked Harry up from Kings Cross. The trio would spend the weekend together having an early Yule before Trish took Harry to Paris and the Duelling Convention. However, while Harry and his allies were making inroads into France to gain freedom for Sirius and Bella, others were moving into Britain with far less noble intentions.

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19th December 1993 – Granger Residence

A morose Hermione was sitting on her bed, holding her knees to her chest as she alternated between crying and staring at a book she knew she hadn't owned. She didn't need to open the cover to remember the inscription inside. From your friend, Harry.

How had things gone so wrong? She asked herself for the umpteenth time. It had been Professor Dumbledore who told her to go home for Christmas and that she might find herself surprised if she did. Was this what he meant? Is this my chance to pull Harry away from those horrible people?

"Hermione!" her mother called out, causing the witch to jolt and quickly wipe her eyes. "You've got visitors."

She raced to her en suite bathroom to make herself as presentable as possible. She could do nothing about the redness of her eyes, but her cheeks were no longer stained by her tears when she opened her bedroom door and made her way to the top of the stairs. Her mother was standing at the bottom, her father off to the side, and a middle-aged couple stood between them. Hermione noticed her parents had a glazed look in their eyes, but the couple spoke before she could think about it.

"Madame Ganger," the woman's voice was heavy with a French accent. It reminded Hermione of when her father watched Match of the Day and they interviewed the French footballers. A full command of the language with no loss of cultural identity. "Would you kindly make us a cup of tea while we speak with your daughter?"

"Of course, Mrs Flamel," her mother replied, causing Hermione to gasp and lift a hand to her mouth.

"And you will wait in the kitchen while we do," the man added to her father. "Won't you, Monsieur Granger?"

"Certainly Mr Flamel, you can talk to her in the living room."

Two 'Mercis' followed before the couple smiled up at Hermione. Nicolas Flamel had midnight black hair with pale skin that bordered on looking unhealthy. His dark eyes shone with intelligence, and something about his lips reminded her of Harry. He wore an expensive bespoke suit that Hermione didn't think was conjured or transfigured, and smiled at her the way Professor Dumbledore did when he was pleased with her actions. Perenelle Flamel was almost the opposite of her husband. Blonde like Draco Malfoy, with a curvaceous superstar body that would have drawn attention no matter what the woman wore. She had a tight silk blouse with just enough buttons undone to tease wandering eyes, a skirt above the knee that wasn't indecently so, and heels that looked like they'd snap Hermione's ankles if she so much as considered wearing anything that high. The woman was practically on her tip-toes in them and yet looked as comfortable as Hermione's father did in his slippers.

All-in-all, the pair looked like a power couple and nothing like she imagined they would.

"Why don't you come done here, dear, hm?" Perenelle suggested, reaching a hand up to Hermione. "I think it's time we talked."

The woman's violet eyes seemed to stare into Hermione's soul, and the girl found herself near the bottom of the stairs reaching out to take the offered hand before she realised she'd taken a single step. "Oh, of course... please... the living room is this way."

The trio entered the spacious room and had just sat when Hermione's brain rebooted itself. "I'm so sorry for what happened with your stone! We -"

Hermione never expected her apology to receive laughter. Perenelle dismissed her concerns with a wave. "Do not fret, petit. It was a failed Stone we gave Albus. The joys of living so long means that no one knows what our Stone looks like."

The woman's eyes once again captivated Hermione and she only barely noticed her mother bringing in a tray of tea and biscuits. Nicolas sent the woman a smile. "Merci, madame. Won't you kindly join your husband so we can finish speaking to your daughter?"

"Of course, Mr Flamel."

Perenelle blinked once her mother was out of the room, and Hermione blushed heavily from being caught staring. She was lowering her head, only for Nicolas to chuckle as he poured them each a tea. "They are eyes to get lost in, non?"

The pair sat back and watched Hermione, who did her best not to fidget under their intense gazes. Nicolas broke the silence. "I hear you've been making excellent use of the Time-Turner."

"What? I mean... I..."

"It was our idea," Perenelle admitted, smirking as she took a sip of her tea. "We asked Albus to give only the best students a chance to prove themselves."

"And you've impressed us," Nicolas added with his own smirk. Once again she had a flash of familiarity with the man's looks that had Hermione think of Harry. "We've asked dear Albie so many questions about you since you began Hogwarts. We thought it was about time to meet the school's little genius for ourselves."

Hermione broke out in a full Weasley-level blush. The pair of famous magicals spent the next hour asking her questions. She was so engrossed in speaking with the renown alchemist and his wife that she didn't notice her parents hadn't checked on them once. The discussion covered her years at Hogwarts, her extracurricular reading, and then found its way to Harry, and Hermione admitted her fears over her friend's changes.

"Do you know what Legilimency is, petit?" Perenelle asked, the teas long finished.

"I remember reading the term," Hermione admitted. "But I don't remember what is it."

"It is the art of looking into someone's mind. With your permission, I would like to see the changes in your friend for myself. It may feel strange having me in there, but it would be best for me to see these changes from your perspective."

"Oh... of course. If you think you need to."

"Thank you," Perenelle smiled, getting off her chair to kneel in front of Hermione. The woman placed her fingers against the girl's temple and Hermione never noticed the tips glowing as she felt something in her mind. The presence filled everywhere inside her, yet she felt relaxed, pulled towards the warmth it seemed to promise in an unheard whisper. This was Perenelle Flamel. If Hermione couldn't trust her and her husband, who could she trust? The presence pulled out of Hermione's mind. She closed her eyes to reorientate herself, missing the dark look that passed across the woman's face.

¬¬"He's a lightning elemental at the very least,"¬¬ she told her husband in a language they had created for themselves. ¬¬"And if he isn't at least an intermediate Blood Mage, I'll eat my favourite shoes."¬¬

Nicolas nodded before giving Hermione a serious look. "We believe your friend may be on a road he cannot be moved from." Hermione gasped at the news. Perenelle hadn't removed her fingers and stroked the girl's temple, the touch quelling Hermione's fears before they could grow. "Hermione, now is the time to contemplate your own path. How would you like to become my apprentice?"

"Really?" she squeaked, getting amused nods and smiles from both Flamels.

"Of course, petit," Perenelle confirmed. "Why do you think we told Albus to send you home?"

The girl gaped like a fish and had to be helped stand by the elegant woman who took her to her standing husband. Perenelle's hand shifted to Hermione's lower back, and the teen felt that same warmth and comfort from before at the touch.

"Are you familiar with Oaths and Vows?" Nicolas asked, getting a shake of the head in answer. "Alas, to take you as my apprentice, I must have a vow from you. It is nothing serious, but this is the way things are. You can refuse to take the Vow, but I cannot teach you."

"No, no, I'll take it!" Hermione near shouted, blushing again at her over-excitement while the Flamels chuckled.

"Bon," Nicolas declared, lifting his arm up. Perenelle had Hermione copy him so that they were clasping hands. "My wife will be our Binder."

"We need your full name, petit," Perenelle told her. The woman's wand was close to their joined hands while her free hand remained supporting Hermione's back.

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"Do you, Hermione Jean Granger, offer yourself as an apprentice to the man known as Nicolas Flamel?"

"I do," Hermione nodded without hesitation, a golden strand snaking out of Perenelle's wand to wrap around their hands.

"Do you swear to trust and obey your Master in all things for as long as the Apprenticeship lasts?"

"I do." This promise had only a split second of hesitation. A second golden thread wrapped around their hands.

"And do you husband, take Hermione Jean Granger as your apprentice, to teach her everything she needs to know, and to show her the road she must travel?"

"Oui." A third thread joined the previous two. Hermione realised that despite looking immaterial, the threads were magical chains tying them together.

"And do you, Nicolas Flamel, swear to treat her with respect and not take advantage of your bond?"

"Of course," the man said with a wide smile.

Hermione gasped when instead of a fourth golden thread appeared from Perenelle's wand, a black one appeared and painfully squeezed their hands together. The warmth on her lower back grew, and it distracted Hermione long enough for Perenelle to finish.

"Then I declare this Vow between you cemented."

The chains sunk into their skin, and Hermione felt flush with foreign magic. She was almost sure she could hear voices at the edge of her thoughts, but they were gone almost as soon as she considered the idea.

"Now, we know how much you love libraries," Nicolas beamed, wrapping an arm over her shoulder to lead her to her room. "You'll do well with ours. We have a massive archive. In fact, it's so massive we require three people to manage it and aid us in our research."

"Really?" Hermione's eyes widened even as he nudged her up the stairs.

"Oh yes, petit," Perenelle confirmed with a smirk. "Seath runs the archives, but don't let that fool you. Oceiros and Micolash are slave drivers and just as intelligent. In fact, we're thinking you'll work under them when you aren't learning from Nicolas or I. Believe me, Jean, they'll make you into a woman to be proud of.

Hermione would pack away her belongings and leave with the Flamels within half an hour, never once considering speaking with her parents. After all, Nicolas had promised to speak with them, and she trusted everything Nicolas told her.

.

.

OoOoO

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.

20th December 1993 – Paris, Duelling Convention (4 years, 59 days diluted)

The biennial Duelling Convention was the biggest event in the Wizarding World's calender, much to the chagrin of those who promoted the Quidditch World Cup Final. The celebration of duelling lasted a week and was open to anyone under twenty-one with duelling abilities, with each day packed with tournaments and minor events. Round-robins, last-man-standing free-for-alls, mini-leagues, and standard knockout rules. It was a duelling bonanza. Preliminary duels were staged constantly to fill the slots for the weekend's U-15s, 17s, 19s, and 21s tournaments. Gruelling slogs the hopefuls took to reach the major competitions. Which was why the smaller tournaments were so in demand. The winner of each had an automatic bye into the later stages of their selected U-tournament and regulars to the convention had many tales of hopeful duellists wearing themselves out trying to win a small competition for that bye rather than go through the preliminary rounds.

What made it harder for the struggling mages was that the organisers never carried a bye over. If a dueller won two mini-tournaments, the runner-up didn't get the second bye. Rather, it opened a new slot to be filled by the preliminary fighters. This made the entire week a series of mind games for those going for the main U-tournament titles. Did they win their bye and then relax the rest of the week, or enter as many mini-tournaments as they could to keep their competition from getting a bye? Such decisions caused the winning or losing of many U-titles.

Trish had taken the time off work to be with Harry the entire week and he was looking forward to spending time with her during his downtime. Filius had joined them as his sponsor and Trish had just laughed when she heard the man's plan to drain the convention's coffers. All competitors stayed in giant dorms within the convention's complex, with the parents and trainers staying in another section. With Trish organising their rooms and Filius filling in the final parchment for Harry's registration, the Lord of Magic made his way to the dorm number that would be his home away from home for the week. All those staying in a dorm were supposed to be of equal skill or reputation and were more often than not paired against each other in the mini-tournaments. But as Harry entered Dorm 16, he knew someone had screwed up.

It was a who's who of duelling talent that even Harry's Boy Who Lived label shouldn't have him included into.

"Well, someone ballsed something up," a dirty-blond, lean young man declared in a thick Liverpudlian accent, flicking his thumb to create a flame dancing on the skin so he could light a cigarette dangling from his narrow, and some might say cruel lips. "Tough to be you, mate."

"Those'll kill you, John," a beautiful, curvy girl told him with a frown. Her voice was rich in an Italian accent, almost making it difficult to understand her.

"No, Z," John answered in a tone of finality. "They won't."

John C. Steen, also known as "John-Con" Steen. A twenty-year-old Scouser who was said to live and work out of Knockturn Alley. Trish had warned Harry about the guy. The Steens were as Dark a magical family as one could get yet held no bigoted beliefs. Voldemort hadn't dared to even call them 'blood traitors' during the Blood War, let alone try recruiting them, and John was one of the most dangerous that had ever been born. According to Trish, the smoker was a young Riddle if you removed the megalomania and replaced it with the urge to screw with others for shits and giggles.

Harry knew the girl by reputation if not by looks. Zatanna Zatara, heir to the famous Italian Zatara legacy. She was the current reigning Italian duelling master and looked to battle for the title against Concepta Zabini for years to come.

A pop of Apparition drew Harry's attention, and he turned to see a furious Filius coming his way. "I have to apologise, Harry. It appears the man who picked your dorm is a former rival of mine who hasn't forgiven me for wiping the floor with him in '64. He's attempting to stack the deck against you."

"'arry Potter?" A French blonde questioned. She was standing next to a smaller blonde girl, but they looked too dissimilar to be related. "Surely not. 'e is only thirteen."

Harry couldn't blame the teen. He had reached his final height of six-five and moved like a predator with an athlete's body. His features were a near perfect blend of James and Sirius, although dominated by his eyes and the heavy streaks of red marking his shoulder-length hair. He had given up all pretences at wearing glasses after Luna stole a tenth pair half-way through October.

"This is certainly Harry Potter, Miss Szardos," Filius confirmed with a nod. [2]

"Accelerated maturity, according to reports. Ain't it, mate?" John smirked around his smoke, causing Harry to scoff. The dorm reeked of Blood Magic and he hadn't even stepped inside yet. Some of those watching him were heavily advanced with their Inner Blood rituals from what his senses were telling him, and there would be no way he could hide his own echoes in the practice. He heard Filius sigh beside him, but hadn't turned from John's knowing eyes.

"That's what they say, guv," Harry replied in a decent East London accent, giving the young man a smirk before turning to his companion. "You know what, sir? I think everything will be just fine. I'm exactly where I should be."

.

.

OoOoO

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23rd Thursday 1993

In all, twenty bodies filled Dorm 16. Harry might not have befriended them all, but he'd formed close bonds with many. The varied group wasn't just known for their skills at duelling, but each one had ties to an infamous legacy and stood apart from their peers as much for that as their power and skill. Harry hadn't looked to hide his talents and had shocked many when he interrupted a discussion between three of his dorm mates about their next rituals. He refused to sit back and let such talented mages use inferior rune arrays.

The group might not know he was a Lord of Magic, but they all knew he had far more beneath the surface than the world was aware. And that made Harry one of them.

The week was a successful one for the teen. He won four knock-out competitions with almost contemptuous ease – the second was with contempt at the grandstanding prat Harry met in the final who had attempted to leave lasting injuries on each of his opponents. Harry had left the older boy in a bloody heap that forced him to pull out of the rest of the convention. Harry had also won two round robin and a free-for-all. He and John were paired together in another round-robin, with the two having to beat each other to keep the other contestant from winning. Unfortunately, the pair's budding friendship turned into a bit of a friendly rivalry and they ended up having a twenty-minute duel that was more about outdoing each other than winning the match. Given they both had their bye into their respective U-tournament, neither both were too upset, but neither Trish nor Filius were pleased. Although Harry blamed the hit on the man's wallet for the Charms Master's mood.

Sirius had cried over a communication mirror when he was told the story, as it reminded the man of how he and James' mock fights always ended up.

Harry had one last free-for-all before he rested for the U-17s and the Lord of Magic was up against a sixteen-year-old Chinese girl named Zheng Bao Yu and a Russian brute of a teen. Zheng was one of Harry's dorm mates and told him in private that she knew Sue Li, and so knew he was a Naga's child. Her father was the power behind the Chinese Ministry, and Harry had promised to meet the man at some point.

As Harry waited for the bell to start, he focused on his Blood Magic and restricted his body's augmentations as much as possible. He knew many of the others didn't bother, but he had no interest in allowing the resistance to spells that his basilisk form provided him to give him an unfair advantage.

The trio were standing in a rocky gladiator pit with rubble of various materials and sizes scattered everywhere. Harry knew what the other two would do, just as they knew he did. The second the bell sounded, he threw up a Protego Horribilis. The augmented spell took the curses the pair sent his way and sent a trio of overpowered versions back, causing both his competitors to duck behind the nearest physical protection.

Harry ducked behind his own and started casting what was becoming his signature move of the convention. A sea of oversized crimson snakes that shared more than a passing resemblance to Cadwalader, along with pitch-black wolves, raced around the rock he was hiding behind to attack both competitors. Harry heard Bao's calm casting and the Russian's cursing, and wasted no time in implementing his plan. He made himself invisible and then cast a Feather-Light Charm on himself, followed by an Alarte Ascendare, as he sent a wandless Banishing Charm at the ground. The Rocket Charm was the same spell the idiot Lockhart had used on Draco's snake in their failed duel the previous year and worked perfectly with the other spells. The combined magic propelled Harry to the height of the spectator boxes with none the wiser. He saw the Russian teen behind his rock and sent a pin-point accurate Stunner on the dark-haired youth's head.

Gasps filled the arena as those watching realised what he had done. Harry threw a Banishing Charm at the ceiling and an Arresto Momentum to dive to the ground in a controlled manner. He landed in the centre of the arena and removed the Invisibility Charm just as Bao finished destroying his animals and peaked around her protection.

"He took a nap." Harry shrugged, giving her a teasing grin. "Turns out this was a bit out of his league."

The Chinese teen snorted and stepped into the open. They both had a bye to the U-17s, and she knew what he wanted. The crowd stirred as they realised what was about to happen. They bowed to each other before unleashing a plethora of spells.

The pair had engaged in many debates over a Charms and Hex-only duel and what was the 'ideal' fighting style. Harry had argued a more well-rounded skill set, whereas Bao believed a constantly moving target who used a wider variety of spells would prevail. In effect, the pair had playfully argued for their own style over the other's with both knowing they could have asked Harry's Charms Master sponsor for the answer.

But that would have spoilt their fun.

It would be a duel for the ages. Those watching saw no transfiguration or conjuration, just magic flying between the two exceptionally skilled and dangerous competitors. Boa dodged and weaved across the battlefield, a leaf in the wind that had Harry half suspecting the girl was on the road to becoming an Air Elemental. He was more controlled, living in the moment and the pauses between heartbeats in the manner of his own lightning. His body shifted at the last second, always just out of the way of whatever spell came his way, but never any more than that. To those of a particular age and experience, it would remind them of watching Gellert Grindelwald at his height.

They both shot spells out of the air, often intercepting far more than they had to avoid, and that alone had the crowd cheering on the pair. It was a skill only the most talented ever mastered, especially at the rapid pace they were performing at. But regardless of how long the battle waged, those who understood such things knew who would come out victorious.

Harry had got in the zone, his instincts having picked out Bao's rhythm of moving to the point he was leading her into a trap, casting far deadlier curses than he otherwise might, knowing that she would dodge them. Except Bao misjudged a step and stumbled, keeping her in the path of a vicious Dark curse. Those watching the match would never forget what happened next.

Harry Potter, then a secret Lord of Magic, had spotted the stumble even before his friend's foot made the slip. He cast the curse's counter, calculating exactly where Bao's body would be after the curse hit and caused her to twist in pain, and then sent both a Stunner and a Rennervate at the girl. The four spells hit in such quick succession that by the time Bao had spun in the air and crashed on the hard ground, she had been both knocked out and woken up.

He was quick to her side to help her stand, even as the arena drowned in applause. "Damn it, girl, I told you those heels would kill you before John's cigs did him."

Boa laughed and then groaned as the echo of the curse ran through her side. "Don't make me laugh, you bastard!"

Harry laughed and helped the girl out of the arena to the waiting healers. It was good to have friends.

.

.

OoOoO

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25th December 1993

Christmas Day fell on a Saturday. For those in France, it was the final rounds of the U-17s. The U-15s had seen a tremendous result with an all-female semi-finals. The French Beauxbatons student Elaine Belloc had defeated Illyana Rasputina – the smaller blonde Harry had seen talking to Amanda Szardos when he found the dorm – in the final while the Irish girl Molly O'Reilly had defeated the American Elsa Bloodstone to take third place.

The eclectic group filling one particular private box would shock and confuse anyone who broke through its privacy wards. The Delacours and their youngest daughter were rubbing shoulders with the Malfoys, Draco included, while the three Tonkses, Rakepick sisters, and Filius Flitwick rounded out the group. Trish had enlarged an enchanted mirror and turned it to face the duelling platforms for the still recovering Sirius and Bella to watch Harry in the final. Gabriel Delacour was still recovering from the news of the two escapees' innocence.

¬¬"Sirius' trial will be the easiest. I do not believe even a Veritaserum interview would be as useful for Madame Black as the marriage contract would be."¬¬

¬¬"I was afraid you'd say that,"¬¬ Sirius grumbled before sighing. ¬¬"You'll get it when the summer starts after Harry becomes Lord Black."¬¬

¬¬ "You cannot access it yourself?"¬¬ Apolline frowned.

¬¬"Only Lord Black can access those,"¬¬ Narcissa told the elder Veela. The group was all capable of speaking French and were doing so to not make little Gabrielle feel left out, even if the young girl didn't follow everything they talked about. ¬¬"And House Black cannot be without a Lord for longer than three years. If Sirius cannot legally take up the mantle before June, then it falls to Harry."¬¬

The Delacours winced at the news. Left unsaid but understood was that Sirius wasn't healthy enough to become Lord Black in magic. Despite not wanting more pressure to put on Harry's shoulders, Andromeda refused to let Sirius claim the ring until she deemed him healthy enough. They all knew that pushing for Sirius and Bella to get independent ICW sponsored trials would be too much. Better to delay Sirius' and do both together than attempt what they were trying to do a second time.

¬¬"Then I hope the young man is ready for it."¬¬ Gabriel said.

¬¬"He is."¬¬ Draco scoffed, getting a variety of looks for his remark. The two finalists making their way to the duelling platform distracted the group.

¬¬"He was not a happy young man this morning,"¬¬ Filius pointed out with a sigh.

¬¬"He didn't want to face Fleur?"¬¬ Gabriel frowned, only for Trish to shake her head at her friend's misunderstanding.

¬¬"It isn't that, Gabe. He's made some friends this week, and none of them were in his bracket."¬¬

¬¬"Ah,"¬¬ the French DMLE head nodded. ¬¬"I understand. I saw his duels against Mister Steen and Heiress Zheng."¬¬

Filius grumbled at the mention of the fight between Harry and John and how it ruined a perfect streak. Their humour faded as the match began and Fleur sent Harry a dazzling smile, only for him to send one of his own back at the half-Veela. The large viewing screen showed Fleur Delacour shaking off a glazed look and sending a fierce scowl at the grinning second-generation Marauder.

¬¬"Did he just use an allure on her?"¬¬ Apolline gasped.

¬¬"He did,"¬¬ Lucius confirmed, remembering his own experience with the teen's aura.

The turnabout caused the half-Veela to lash out with a powerful spell that Harry caused to explode with one of his own. The Potter Heir never let up with his smirk, even as they exchanged dangerous spells while dancing out of the way of each other's attack. Spells to break bones, tear skin, and knock back were mixed with even more painful curses. One that would have ripped all of Fleur's hair out by the roots just missed the young woman who snarled, conjuring a swarm of winged spikes to impale the impudent youth. Harry had the temerity to laugh as a serpentine body rose from the rippling platform like the body of the Loch Ness Monster to take the spikes in its thick side. A stab of his wand had the stone creature explode, the sharp pieces flying Fleur who deftly cast a mass transfiguration that turned the shrapnel into birds that flew around her before diving in Harry's direction.

A wave of Harry's wand had a wall of water blocking the birds. The liquid was more than it appeared as it consumed the avians like the strongest of acids, but Harry had to vanish it and shift out of the way of an Expelliarmus and then duck a spell that would have dislocated every joint from shoulder to fingertip had it hit his left arm.

Harry conjured a trio of black wolves that raced at Fleur, who attempted to take control of them. Her shock at being unable to almost cost her the duel and she had to release a wave of Veela fire to destroy the creatures. Harry hadn't stopped smirking, and flicked his wand as someone would a whip. The platform bulged as something barrelled beneath its surface towards her and she had to backpedal to avoid the serpentine creature that exploded out of the platform.

"Holy shit," Dora gasped, not realising she'd slipped back into English. She knew what the creature was. She'd seen in a cheesy horror movie in 1990 staring Kevin Bacon. The worm-like beast opened its mouth to release three prehensile tongues and Fleur had to immolate the Graboid it before it got her.

¬¬"He's not hiding,"¬¬ Draco mused, drawing Gabriel's attention.

Fleur didn't seem impressed by the creature and sent a fire whip at Harry's head. The teen blocked it with a lightning whip of his own that caused the girl's flames to explode between them.

¬¬"Impossible!"¬¬ Apolline declared, eyes wide. ¬¬"That was Veela fire!"¬¬

The more the woman watched Harry Potter duel, the fewer things made sense. The more he moved and fought in a way he shouldn't be capable of. She urgently needed questions answered, hopefully before others came looking for those same answers.

The shock of her Veela fire being extinguished as though it was just another fire spell had clearly shaken Fleur, who resorted to trading spells with Harry rather than any more advanced magic. Harry must have noticed the shift in the girl's mood as his smirk vanished and he made no sign of teasing his opponent. The watching crowd saw him nod to himself and his rate of spell fire seemed to triple, causing Fleur to cast the first shield of the match.

¬¬"It's over,"¬¬ Filius declared, drawing everyone's attention. It didn't take long for them to see what he meant.

Filius Flitwick's run of Duelling Champion came with a signature spell. It remained a well-known fact that the weakest of spells hitting the strongest of shields would still create a physical reaction. That of a flash of light and small spider webbing of fractures across the shield's surface. Most ignored this effect. Filius had mastered the skill of simultaneously hitting a personal shield at the perfect locations to cause those small flashes to blind his opponent, while the cracks in the shield would create a weakness in the centre for his follow-up Stunner.

Harry had learnt the technique, and a flurry of spells at Fleur's shield had her blind to the last spell that crashed through her shield to send her flying to the ground. While the crowd went wild at the match, Harry calmly walked to his downed opponent and woke up her, helping Fleur to her feet while speaking quietly to the clearly upset girl.

.

.

OoOoO

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.

Delacour Home

Out of Harry's family, only he and Trish sat down with the Delacours that evening for a meal as the rest had made their way back to Britain. They had put little Gabrielle to bed, and the five were enjoying a post meal drink and talk. Fleur and Harry had been discussing their various duels over the week with Fleur gracefully, if grudgingly, accepting her defeat to him.

"We should pair together for the doubles next time."

"I'd like that," he told her, smiling. "I'm glad the convention was this year and not next."

"Why?"

"They've restarted the Triwizard Tournament," he told the French family, who gaped at the news. ¬¬

Apolline swore at the news while Gabriel leant back in his chair and sipped his glass of port. "Are you familiar with the history between our families, Mister Potter?"

"Not the details, sir, no."

Gabriel nodded at his answer and took another sip before placing the glass on the small table beside his chair. "My great-grandfather Charlus saved Henry Potter's life. In return, Henry made him godfather to Charlus Potter, your grandfather. Your father and I never had time to become friends, but I believe we could have. I tell you this so you know I will aid you as much as I can."

"You're not talking just about Sirius and Bella, are you Gabe?" Trish asked, eyeing the husband and wife while Harry sat in rigid silence.

"He isn't," Apolline confirmed, staring deep into Harry's eyes. "Do you know who I am, Mister Potter?"

"I don't. I don't believe you're just a stay-at-home mother, but I don't know what you do. I thought perhaps a French Unspeakable."

"A reasonable guess. I notice you did not say Veela."

"Your eldest daughter is a talented witch who was the best duellers -"

"Except for you," she interrupted.

"Except for me at the convention. She also just happens to be a Veela."

"A delightful answer," Apolline beamed, only for the smile to slip away as quick as it appeared. "But in my case, it matters. I am a Veela Matriarch, Mister Potter. To become one, a Veela must graduate from a special place of education."

Harry sighed, moving for the first time since the strange conversation began. He knew what she was getting at."Black Gate."

"You know of it." She stared at him, but his only reaction was a lifted finger to keep Trish from interrupting the interrogation. "Your fighting style is like what I once witnessed there. And you're a powerful Blood Mage whom I suspect has already made his blood knife."

"How much do you know?"

"I know your skills are way beyond your apparent age. I believed your training is a traditional Black Gate education for someone of Fleur's age, although I now wonder about that, and I know you are far more than you appear. How old are you really, Mister Potter?"

Harry eyed the Delacours. Gabriel had been watching the exchange while Fleur frowned as her head bounced between him and her mother as they spoke. The woman had shown her own blood runes to prove she knew what she was talking about, as though Harry hadn't felt her power the moment they met. His basilisk side twitched in his mind, instincts screamed to attack and take out a threat before it could grow. The trio must have seen it in his gaze. All three shifted, but he pulled the instinct back and answered.

"I've lived a little over seventeen-and-a-half years."

"I'm not challenging you, Mister Potter," the woman promised, getting a scoff from Trish.

"You've got a funny way of showing it, Pol," the Curse-breaker snapped. Her patience having run dry from watching the interrogation.

"My Alumni will have noticed his techniques, Trish, as will my former teachers. Someone will investigate you, Mister Potter, if only to find out which one of us has betrayed our ways."

"None of you," he declared in a hard tone.

"Mister Po -"

"How much do you know of your school's history, Madame Delacour?"

"They teach all Black Gate students it," she told him, frowning.

"Then I know you know who helped ward your school," he said, lifting his hand to show his pinky and the Slytherin Heir ring that was now visible. The elder Veela gasped at the sight.

"Hogwarts has an Impossible Room where your portraits can teach."

"Rowena called it a Room of Requirement, but yes."

It took a moment, but Harry saw realisation dawning in the woman's dark blue eyes. He didn't give her a chance to speak the truth, releasing his soul aura in a blast of light that enveloped the nearby Trish. The two Veela dropped to their knees, with Gabriel not far behind. While Harry awed the man, Apolline and Fleur looked as though Harry had shown them the truth of the universe. They only retook their seats when Harry drew his aura back inside.

"Damn, kid, it keeps growing." Trish pointed out, blinking to clear her vision.

"A three time Lord of Magic so far," Harry confirmed. "Mind Arts, Inner Blood Magic, and Rituals."

Apolline gasped. "The ritual the goblins sold to Black Gate! It was too late for Fleur, but Gabrielle will benefit once she goes through the Change. My Lord, you have saved our children years of suffering with control of their Allures!"

Harry accepting the trio's gratitude, all the while wondering what else life would throw his way before he was finished.

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OoOoO

SN:

1 – Remus' lesson is inspired/prompted by a reddit prompt by user KowaiSentaiYokaiger

2 – Names and vague descriptions of DC/Marvel characters aside, this isn't a comics crossover.

Last Edited - 2nd October 2023

Word Count – 12,473

Previous Word Count - 12,350