Key:
"Words."
Thoughts / "emphasis" / Title of Books or spells used
~~Parseltongue~~
¬¬Foreign Language¬¬
"Magical language."
Danu vs Peverell
Salazar was once more staring out of the window of the Room. Only this time, instead of being lost in thought, he was waiting for something. That something announced itself in a humongous flash of light and thunderclap. The Founder turned to see the irate force of nature that was his descendant striding towards him.
Harry's clothes melted off him as his magic responded to his emotions. Lightning raced up and down his body, giving him the appearance of a Thunder God of old, and his infamous scar glowed bright with the same energy. The elemental mark that had replaced his basilisk bite had chains of corrosive water pouring forth from its rippling blue surface to wrap around his body. A body that now appeared to be covered in a full-body tattoo of a red dragon. The head reached over the Lord of Magic's left shoulder, reaching down to rest over the man's heart, and the animal's four limbs embraced his torso, their claws tracing over his ribs. The wings wrapped around the young man's forearms, while the spiked tail snaked around Harry's right leg until its lethal point ended at the ankle. All-in-all, the living Slytherin Lord looked like what he was. Like what Salazar had shaped him into. A druid of Old Albion prior to the Roman invasion.
"What the hell did you do to me, Sal?" Harry snarled, his lack of honorifics showing the depths of his rage. The green eyes the two men shared locked, with the living pair slitted and tinged with the acidic yellow of a basilisk's gaze. The dead Lord knew that were he alive and not a Parselmouth, the gaze would have petrified him from the man's channelled Animagus form.
"You did it to yourself, Harry," Salazar answered in his calm tone. For the first time, the Founder appreciated the fact his Apprentice was half a foot taller than him as the furious mage approached. "House Danu only comes to those who earn it."
"I did nothing to have the goblins worship me!"
A flash of fire and the swan-sized form of Fawkes appeared above the two eyes-locked men. The firebird landed on Harry's left shoulder, his claws matching where Cadwaladr's body protected Harry's skin. The phoenix trilled a low tune, the soothing music aimed to help ease the tension between the two men rather than outright manipulate the living one's mood.
"But you did, Harry," Salazar confirmed, his words tinged with both pride and sadness. "You must understand that the Danu title is not just about blood or Family Magic, but about Blood and Magic. Being Danu is being a bridge between Magical Beings and humans. Of your own free will, you accepted my apprenticeship. When given the knowledge of the old Oath of Binding for house-elves, you used it rather than the modern one. You and your magic found Cadwaladr, a mount of Danu, and bonded with him as your familiar. You took up Blood Magic and then used it to activate all of your bloodlines. Including my Naga blood. You did that willingly. You've sold the ritual that will allow Veela to find a balance in growing into their Allure, and then you created the Lycan ritual. You've been living as a Child of Danaan since you walked into my chamber."
Harry's gaze had dropped as Salazar spoke until he was staring at the Danu ring. Its once plain golden band now had seven slender gemstone bars equally spaced around its surface, representing his other titles. Each was a unique colour and each ring would have its own way of showing the political power and bloodline responsibility he now carried were they visible.
"You knew this was going to happen," he accused.
"I suspected. And hoped."
"What's so special about House Danu? You've never mentioned it."
As Harry heard his mentor sigh, he became distracted by the glowing cursive writing swimming across the surface of the ring. He felt a mirroring slither in both his magic and thoughts as the ring answered his question by imparting a deep knowledge of the House. Knowledge that included the fact the dragon heartstring in his second wand came from a Red Welsh, and that his wand holster bracers were Danu made. Tied to his bloodline, the enchanted mix of blood metal and Red Welsh dragonhide enabled the wearer to both channel magic through them and use them to deflect spells.
"They are the mortal children of the High Fae. They are the Tuatha De Danann. The first humans ever gifted with the ability to wield magic. They were the sword and shield of the land and people of Britannia. The bridge between the Magical Races of our homeland and the humans, both magical and not, tasked with making sure the Races had equal rights, or provide land where they could live away from humans should that not be possible."
The Founder sighed again, and Harry raised his head to look at the man. He now knew the mysterious House Sal had him do an offering to had been Danu. But while the Founder had suspected and guiding Harry to this moment, it was Harry's choices that had him cross over the line. And as Harry's now human eyes stared at the echo of his ancestor, he saw the conflicted emotions the man felt at Harry claiming the Lordship. The natural Slytherin and teacher desires to see a student reach the peak of their society hierarchy were clashing with the responsibilities now weighing on Harry's shoulders.
"They lost almost everything fighting against the Roman mages, including every adult Welsh Red. Lord Gwyn enchanted the whelps to have an immature wyvern stage to hide them among the magical snake population. It would take merging with someone with Danu potential to awaken their true forms. I can't tell you if House Potter remembers, but the Peverells never forgot fighting alongside the Danus and what they meant for this land. I saw you heading down this road and -"
Harry's hand gripped the man's shoulder, cutting off the ramble once he realised what Salazar was doing. Between Fawkes' calming effect and seeing his mentor's desperation for him to understand, his rage evaporated between breaths. "We'll talk about it later, Master. I have a meeting with the goblins to get back to."
His clothes reformed around him from a silent command, and Harry gave Salazar's shoulder a firm squeeze before turning to walk away. Between one step and the next, the Lord of Magic vanished in a small spark, taking the phoenix with him.
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OoOoO
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Department of Mysteries, British Ministry of Magic
While Harry confronted Salazar, an alert system tied to the goblin's inheritance records went off in a room that even most of the Unspeakables didn't know existed. The alarm made no sound nor created any flashing lights. Instead, it connected with the deeper magics of the department, taking over the first Unspeakable who passed the hidden room. None of their colleagues noticed them step through a door that wasn't there. The Unspeakable's glazed over eyes saw nothing as they moved through the room, activating a signalling machine in the specific manner to pass on the alarm's message:
House Peverell has awoken.
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OoOoO
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Gringotts
While Harry had vanished mid-step, he reappeared sitting inch-perfect in the chair he had departed, only now with a phoenix on his shoulder.
"At least you didn't blow our eardrums out this time," Trish snarked, getting a sigh from the Lord. "Given the old ghost a piece of your mind?"
"He explained that being a Danu is as much about personality as magic and blood," Harry explained, reaching up to scratch Fawkes' breast as the phoenix started a staring contest with one of the goblin guards. "And the buzzard here helped me listen."
A crimson wing reached around to smack his right temple and Trish blinked at the bird's ability to do so without looking away from his opponent.
"Is The Danu ready for his meeting?"
The subservience would have been strange coming from any goblin, but that it came from High Manager Barchoke, King Ragnuk's second-in-command, was outright disturbing to Patricia. She'd been trying to get him to talk during Harry's brief trip to Hogwarts, but the stubborn bastard had yet to crack. She was ready to try again when she noticed Harry's ring glow.
"It won't do me any good to give you permission to disrespect me, will it?" He almost pleaded after absorbing the new information the Lordship ring had provided.
"The Danu is never to be disrespected."
Harry stared at Barchoke. He would never say he was an expert in goblin appearances, yet something about the being in front of him tickled his thoughts. Barchoke was bald to the temple-line, but covered in a wispy ring of hair below. The ring spread forward to merge with his beard and moustache. Another whisper from the Danu ring and a mental comparison between the goblin who refused to meet his gaze while serenely waiting for him to start the meeting and the Hogwarts professor who had become a friend and confidant put the pieces together. [1]
"You're from Clan Firestone," Harry announced.
"I have that honour, yes," Barchoke nodded, staring over Harry's shoulder. Since becoming Lord Danu, this was the closest any goblin had come to looking at him. "As do all who serve our king, and care for certain accounts."
Harry leaned forward, paying little attention to the ring's whispers. He wanted to do what he was doing, regardless of how pleased the ring's whispers were for his actions. "Then look at me, Child of Gofannon Danu, brother of Lord Gwydion. I name Filius Flitwick kin, I name Filius Flitwick family. As I do for all of his clan that has stood by him. They are Clan Gofannon for now and forevermore."
Fawkes sang his approval, the song spreading throughout Gringotts to reach those of the Clan. The words made the guard blink, and the happy phoenix shifted to the next one to start a new staring contest.
"Kid?"
"'Goblin' is a modern twisting of Goban, an alternative name for Gofannon Danu," Harry explained, settling back in his chair. Barchoke was staring open-mouthed at Harry, and they both saw tears in the goblin's eyes. "He adopted them when Lord Llud Danu accepted their application to live here. A lot of people back then just called them the Children of Gofannon as a joke, not realising that Gofannon did have some children with them."
Barchoke rose and bowed to Harry. "As Clan Chief, I thank The Danu for accepting us. We have done our best to live up to our ancestor's ways even in these trying times."
"I've reaffirmed the ties between the Clan and House Danu, Trish. It's nothing I won't have to do with all my other Houses."
"Except this one is with a major goblin Clan. And how do you know so much already?"
"It's a bloody chatty ring," he explained with a snort.
"The Danu is wise to listen to it," Barchoke said in a tone that almost perfectly matched Dobby's when the elf was being snarking, causing Harry's eyes to narrow.
"Have you been taking lessons from my elf? And you're doing that to annoy me, aren't you?"
"Is The Danu ready to assess his Houses?" Barchoke asked with a smirk, his gaze fixed on Harry's mouth.
Harry grumbled over smart-arsed Magical Beings before agreeing. The Danu accounts held more money than any sane person could imagine given it gained a tiny percentage of every Gringotts transaction, and one surprising piece of land.
"How in Magic's name do I own Knockturn Alley?"
"Balls," Trish snapped with a wince. "I guess this is why you Smeg-headed bastards were the ones behind it?"
"Despite its reputation, Gringotts has tried its best to care for those the Ministry wouldn't," Barchoke replied, causing her to release a heavy breath through her nose.
Trish turned to Harry, who decided he never wanted her current look aimed at him again. "I know you've been wondering why I wanted you to stay out of there."
"I thought I understood last summer, but I'm starting to think I was miles off."
"You're not. At least, you're not with the parts of Knockturn closest to Diagon," she admitted, her shoulders dropping as she spoke. "Knockturn isn't just where the criminals or those skirting the magical restrictions go to do their work. If that was the case, it should be easy for the Ministry to clean it up whenever they want."
"I figured that part out, Trish. I figured it was more the Ministry didn't want to, given how bloody corrupt the place is."
"Yes and no," she said, glaring at Barchoke, who gave her a clawed wave to continue. Bloody goblin passing the buck, she thought. "The truth is, I was keeping you from there so you wouldn't go on a rampage."
That got Harry's eyebrows raising.
"Kid, Knockturn isn't just where the bad guys go. It's where everyone goes who can't make it in our world. It's where those that the Ministry and our high society have abandoned get pushed to fight for the smallest scrap of survival. Expelled Hogwarts students who don't have the money or connections to go to another school outside of Britain as the Ministry made it illegal for them to go to one of the smaller schools -"
"That's why expulsion includes having their wands snapped," he realised. Even Salazar hadn't known the reason for that part of the modern Hogwarts laws.
"It is. No one cares about them, so they end up in the deep depths of Knockturn. Along with squibs who don't get killed off by their families or just can't make it in polite society, werewolves who don't want to live wild, Muggle-borns who aren't able to get anywhere but can't cross back over the line. There are places in Knockturn where the sun doesn't shine, and one wrong step will have someone end up in the Nightside." [2]
Harry shuddered at the mention of the Nightside. An infamous place even in Salazar's time, and according to the Danu ring, just as bad a thousand-years prior to Hogwarts' founding. A Lord of Magic could survive there, but they wouldn't be the top dog. Gods and monsters walked the streets of the Nightside. Concepts made physical played poker against each other with mortal souls, the fate of galaxies, or anything else they saw as disposable currency. You could damn yourself and find salvation three times over just by taking the wrong turn and looking in the windows of the wrong shops. It was that type of place.
A young Riddle had gone there to find power after leaving his job at Borgin and Burke's, and had barely escaped its streets with his life. One reason the jumped up shit had buried his name as quickly as he did after leaving the country was because of a bounty on his head after his ego had him piss off the wrong person. The person he annoyed was one of the small fish of the Nightside and the bounty wasn't large enough for anyone competent to bother with, otherwise he would never have had the chance to become the Dark Lord he had.
"And Gringotts owns Knockturn?" Harry's tone demanded answers to more than just that question.
"Gringotts has done what it could for the outcasts. To run it as The Danu would without bringing the Ministry upon its head."
The Lord Danu stared at Barchoke, tasting the goblin's words on his tongue. Harry slowly nodded. "Then I expect a list of everything that's been done, being done, and what you've planned to do. And everything you know needs to be done, but you couldn't. I'll go over it over the summer."
"As The Danu wishes."
The rest of Harry's Houses went far more smoothly. His comment about being grateful for no outstanding marriage contracts had Trish laughing at the face he pulled. The woman laughed again, this time at Barchoke's face, when Harry's last piece of business was selling Gringotts the knowledge and rights to making blood knives.
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OoOoO
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29th May 1994 – Room
Harry was back to teaching his students the next day. Or at least he would have if Filius hadn't been freaking everyone out with how wide-eyed the half-goblin was acting. Although the phoenix watching the lesson also wasn't helping to keep the others focused.
"I swear, I'll kick your arse all over the school if you don't snap out of it," Harry declared at the star-struck professor.
"I got a correspondence from my Clan last night -"
"I know, Fil. I was there. I did it. It's done," Harry sighed, ignoring the mental laughter from his familiar. "Would seeing the bloody thing help?"
"Err, Harry?" Ron shifted. The group's curiosity was mixed with concern over what was troubling the Charms professor and causing him to be snappy.
"I claimed my Lordships yesterday," Harry told them without looking away from the man he considered a friend. "One of them means something special to a lot of people. The goblins, included."
"Special, he says," Filius snorted. "Please, My Lord. To know that family has returned, that you meant what my great-granduncle told me you said. I need to see it."
"I've never heard of the Potters or Blacks having any type of special relationship with the goblins," Daphne said with a frown.
"I have more than those," Harry told them while letting Filius see the golden band. The man was shaking and obviously struggling to keep from dropping to his knees. "You'll learn which ones at my Debutante Ball this summer."
Susan's suspicious look got lost in the group's excitement. Although not an official invitation, that he expected them to be at such an event would raise all of their social profiles. While some might use the inclusion of the Weasleys to attack Harry, it would raise their social standing beyond what even the 'Blood Traitor' slur could touch.
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OoOoO
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1st June 1994 – Nurmengard, Austria
While neither the largest nor grandest of castles, Nurmengard's keep soared high into the Alp sky to give it a majesty that the rest of the pitch-black stoned construction didn't. The Ward-Smith had only granted one person the right to apparate into its walls. Himself. And although the ICW had claimed those wards and manipulated them enough to trap him within the castle's most secure cell for forty-nine years, no one had ever worked out how to grant others permission to enter the castle using magic.
Alas for the ICW and the world at large, the only person with enough magical understanding to question that peculiarity had wanted nothing to do with helping secure Gellert Grindelwald. Albus Dumbledore had defeated his once-lover and trusted in his Order of the Phoenix to watch over the ICW as they contained the greatest Dark Lord in living memory.
The true cost of such actions was about to come due.
A group of five appeared precisely one-hundred yards from the castle's enchanted gate. That Grindelwald could layer the powerful and lasting enchantments on the cold iron barrier that he had was only further proof of the man's power and skill. The group split, four hooded bodies falling back as an honour guard to the uncloaked woman who stalked towards the castle, unimpeded by either the fallen or falling snow. She was in a 'business casual' attire, the silk blouse providing no protection against the freezing temperatures, yet she still moved with a dancer's grace. Steam rose from her body as though a furnace lived beneath her skin, and her open-heeled footsteps left melted puddles of water from where snow touched bare skin. The woman moved like a force of nature, an oncoming storm ready to knock the infamous castle aside should it not get out of her way.
And yet she and her entourage stopped at the gate. The woman stared at the ICW captain and leader of the prison's guards. The man stared back and then turned to shout out an order.
"Open the gates!"
Although hailing from many countries, the ICW had a blanket policy of everyone working for them being able to speak English. The Confederation's dominant language encompassed everyone, from the representatives of the constituent ministries to the desk workers tucked away in the smallest office.
The gate lifted as smooth as they had the day they were first used, and the captain waved at the group to follow him.
"How is he?" the woman asked as they headed to the castle's only prisoner.
"More energetic than usual, ma'am," the captain replied with military precision. "I believe he knew you were coming."
"His Sight has been active?" She frowned, her dangerous high heels having no issues with the keep's many steps.
"I'm afraid so, ma'am," the man' said with obvious sorrow. "Even with the magical dampener. It wasn't so bad before, but something happened this time last year and he's been getting near constant flashes. He says that the future has come completely unmoored, but he can't see its end."
"He wouldn't," the woman sighed. "Not if he was tightly bound to that future."
The pair fell into silence for the rest of the walk. The subject of their conversation was already standing at the glowing bars of his cell. Grindelwald looked like a spry eighty-year-old rather than the centenarian he was. While many would have expected him to waste away inside Nurmengard, he was the castle's Ward-Smith and as long as they remained, they would feed him a constant flow of power. Yet that same power was twisted into keeping him contained, with only one man and one item able to let him out.
"Hello, Grandmother. It's nice to see you again after all these years."
"You're the one who walked out on us, Gellert," Perenelle Flamel pointed out with a glare, getting a nod from the Dark Lord.
"I didn't trust you and Grandfather. My greatest mistake."
She stared into his mismatched eyes. The left was a brilliant blue that would darken to a black as dark as the castle's stone when he lost control of his emotions or used his magic. As she and Nicolas had taught him to do the latter near constantly, the shifting hue had never been a weakness for his enemies to exploit. Not even when he was a first-year at Durmstrang. The right eye was pale, a ghostly white ringed in silver that was the mark of his Sight being active. Gellert's natural Seer ability was a curse, forcing him to see fragmented visions and granting him disjointed understanding of the future. Although a perfect weapon on the battlefield to avoid spells, the man's visions of World War II had driven him to disobey her and her husband. The immortal couple were not ones for tolerating disobedience, hence the man's continual imprisonment.
"The Peverell line has woken. A Potter has embraced Death and his power is extraordinary. It's time."
"Well," Gellert said with a low, caressing sigh. "I was only a half-century too early."
One of the hooded figures snorted at the remark. The woman gave the captain a nod, and the Italian withdrew a unique disc from his pocket. He placed it against the cell's keyhole and the wards untwisted, releasing the door to swing open without a sound.
"Thank you, captain. You've been a wonderful host." Gellert said as he stepped forward to greet Perenelle with a hug and kisses on the cheek.
"You've been a loyal soldier," the woman acknowledged, without letting the Dark Lord go. "We will remember you and your men for your dedicated service. But we cannot take all of you. Some must pay the ultimate price to keep up the charade."
"I know, ma'am," the captain admitted as he shifted into a parade rest. "My men and I have agreed. If any are to be sacrificed, it will be me and my leaders. We've already trained our replacements and I give you my word they'll not disappoint."
"Your sacrifice will be written into history," she promised the man, sending a nod to her companions to begin the work before apparating herself and Gellert out of the castle.
"You felt me manipulate the wards," the Dark Lord accused once they landed in a small room. It didn't take more than a cursory glance to see someone had set it up as a hospital room. The comfortable bed had a table beside it, its top already covered in potions for Gellert to take. A bookcase took up one corner of the room, and it overflowed with a mix of his favourite titles and tomes he hadn't yet read. A Wizarding Wireless sat on a desk that had piles of parchment ready for when his grand intellect got him focused on an idea.
"Of course," she snorted, borderline throwing him onto the bed. "I've already set up your potions regime to get you healthy. I'd rather the elixir not have to fix anything regular medical magic can. And once you're cleared for rituals, I have this baby for your first."
Perenelle pulled out a large glass ball from her skirt pocket. Inside the orb was a swirling mass of darkness that attacked the points where her skin touched the glass.
"Aberforth tried his best, but we found it eight months after the Aurelius body died." Perenelle's grin was a twisted, disturbing thing as she gazed lovingly at the entity she held contained. "Meet Ariana's Obscurus after another three torturous childhoods. I thought it would be the perfect thing to use to boost your power."
Gellert Grindelwald, a man of Ebonstone blood and one of the most dangerous Dark Lords to have ever lived, could give only one reply. "You and Grandfather give me the most wondrous gifts."
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OoOoO
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5th June 1994 – Sight UnSeen
Cassie Rakepick pottered around the front of her shop with a frown. The revelations of Harry gaining his Lordships continued to reverberate throughout the family. House Grymm might be unknown to most modern mages, but those who knew of it recognised its strength and reputation. While known for their brutal dealings with their enemies, the honour of the Grymms was without question and many would see them as the perfect House to balance the two political policies of the Blacks and Potters. The family were long aware of Harry gaining the Slytherin title and were prepared for the Peverell name, although both came with their own problems. The former because of a near-millennium of misunderstanding and misrepresentation, while only a necromancer could claim the latter's Lordship.
It wouldn't matter that necromancy was classed as Family Magic for the Peverells. The Branch of magic's reputation would see many turn against Harry. The surprising regency of Ravenclaw's bloodline might have helped lessen that negativity, but the added Le Fay name didn't just wipe that positive out, but would almost guarantee people saw him as a new Dark Lord. And then there was the biggest name of them all. A name mired in more myth than even Merlin's. Cassie had pushed her Seer abilities as hard as she could in a desperate attempt to help the man she saw as a nephew, and yet all she Saw was the need to be in the front of her store.
And then she heard the pops and knew what the crystal ball had been warning her about. Ten figures donned in black robes and white masks. A sight the woman had never wanted to see again. Her heart pounded, but that rush of adrenaline turned to rage as the Death Eaters' spells flew at her pride and joy. The shop's wards flared at the onslaught and Cassie snarled, her face twisting into a look more suited to her sister, and she stormed to the door.
"You thought someone dedicated to divination was helpless? Think again!" She shouted from behind the glass, her hands twisting in front of her as she drew on her power. "Oh, brilliant Appollo, aid this Daughter of Fate against her enemies!"
A blazing sun symbol formed between her palms. The lead Death Eater was super-heated from the inside while the two on either side burned alive as they felt as though they were standing on the surface of the sun. Two more died after becoming pincushions to arrows fletched with raven, hawk, and griffin feathers.
Cassie had to dive out of the way of Killing Curses as they smashed through the enchanted glass of the door and windows. Her mini-ritual broken, she was about to send a spell back at the attackers when one of the Death Eaters sent a stream of Fiendfyre at the shop. She saw her death coming, yet she couldn't See it coming, and the conflicting messages held her in place far tighter than the danger itself did.
The clash between reality and her Sight resolved itself before she felt the fire's heat as the cobblestone pavement in front of the Sight UnSeen rippled and a giant stone worm rose. The construct lunged at the Death Eater that cast the spell, devouring the hellfire and its caster without hesitation before vanishing back underground.
Silence.
The remaining Death Eaters were stunned at losing half their number in the manner they had. And then things got worse. A disembodied voice spoke from everywhere and nowhere. "You should never have come here."
Cassie saw the Death Eaters attempt to apparate out, only to be bounced back by an anti-apparition jinx they couldn't break through. The ground rippled once more and multiple serpentine heads rose to trap the terrorists in a circle. Cassie saw the creatures all had the same familiar green eyes. The transfigured heads opened their mouths and the Fiendfyre that the first creature had swallowed poured down on the trapped Death Eaters, consuming them in a nightmare conflagration of semi-sentient fire. Before the Dark spell could seek more magic to consume, the constructs spewed out what Cassie could only describe as a water version of the spell. The two powerful elemental magics clashed, causing steam to explode out and cover the street.
A whoosh behind her had Cassie rolling and bringing up her wand, only to stop as her Sight told her who it was before she could cast. Harry was already moving, pulling her up and into a powerful bearhug to prove to himself she was alright. A frantic Dora joined them, and it took Fawkes' singing to calm the trio.
"You added an alert to my wards, didn't you?" Cassie mumbled into Harry's chest, feeling him snort at the accusation.
"I added mine over yours. Less intrusive that way."
The trio heard multiple pops and the immediate 'Aurors, put down your wands' cry from the Ministry's defence force. Dora pulled out of the three-way hug with a frown at the lingering fog and the approaching shadows. "Get out of here, hot stuff. I'll keep an eye on them for you."
"Thank you," Harry said, quickly kissing Cassie's forehead. He had barely stepped back before Fawkes flashed him away, getting the Seer to raise an eyebrow at the other woman.
"What? He seems to have taken a shine to Harry," Dora declared.
"He's not the only one," Cassie smirked with a wiggle of her eyebrows that the metamorph dutifully ignored.
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OoOoO
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7th June 1994 – Flitwick's Office
The exams were over and the students were crashing hard from all the stress they had been under. While Harry's personal students were taking a day for themselves, the young man in question enjoyed a cup of tea with two professors.
"There's no chance I can convince you to stay?" Harry asked the prematurely grey-haired man. "You'd be working for me and not the old man, after all."
"I don't think so, Harry," Remus replied, sharing a conspiratorial smirk with Filius. Given what the Lord of Magic knew of the latter, he was sure the two had put bets on when he'd asked. "Given the trial and being able to reconnect with Sirius properly, and that the goblins have agreed to reach out to the werewolves they know for your first ritual, I think I've got a plenty to keep me busy for the next year."
"I had to ask," he sighed, tilting his head back and half-closing his eyes to relax in what had become his favourite chair in the Charms Master's office. "And you're sure you don't want me to perform the ritual on you?"
"Harry, you've done more than enough. You've taken away all reasons for me to continue being a coward about my condition. But I need to let the goblins do it. For myself, as much as to show the others the way."
"I can understand that."
"And what of you, My Lord?" Filius asked. The man had reverted to his overly honorific mode of addressing him in private, but Harry heard a teasing to the professor's tone that proved the man was related to Barchoke. "With Nymphadora's reinstatement to the Auror force, how will you work on your Metamorphmagus abilities?"
Dora had found her suspension lifted in the most impressive of fashions. When Amelia Bones had found that the Aurors investigating the attack on the Sight UnSeen spent more time accosting her and Cassandra, the DMLE Head had blown a fuse. She'd torn through her department like a runaway Hogwarts Express, forced Moody to take his retirement a month early, and put herself back in the field long enough to finish Dora's training personally.
Harry didn't open his eyes. His wand appeared in his palm, and he cast a personal spell of Salazar's. "Fláráðr."
A copy of Harry appeared next to the original, sharing the same smirk the sitting one was. "A magical echo. It needs a tenth of the caster's magic to power. I'm a perfect physical construct, right down to my blood, and it's undetectable to any identity scan. I can only cast the basic Hogwarts curriculum level of magic unless I want to increase the drain."
The older men blinked their shock at the spell, although Filius' surprise wasted no time in morphing into childish glee at seeing the forgotten magic. "Amazing! And what of control?"
The magical copy vanished as the real Harry opened his eyes to re-engage with the conversation. This time, he and Remus were the ones sharing a smirk. "It's initially disorientating as you're taking in two lots of stimuli. Occlumency is a must for mastering the spell, but you can cut your mind off to the construct in a pinch. It is you and lives as you would in whatever situation it finds itself in. But without Occlumency, absorbing those memories once you cancel the spell or open the mental link isn't easy."
"What about injuries?" Remus wondered, while Filius finished writing notes on Harry's explanations.
"The only ones you have to worry about is something spiritual. The construct reacts to a curse as though it's your own body up to where death should happen, and that's when the spell breaks. But reintegration passes over the physical sensations along with the mental. The mage can have it take a spell if they have to, but it's not without its price."
"That makes sense," Filius mused, getting an agreeing nod from Remus. "We often feel pain when someone breaks our continuous spells. What about your schedule and time?"
"You don't want to know with time dilation," Harry stated, wincing at the memory of just a few seconds of using the spell between two different time dilated areas of the Room. The experiment had only the smallest of dilations – a minute in one room was fifty seconds in the other – but even that proved excruciating to deal with. "Time-Turners are different, but it's best to keep the construct in the same timeline as the caster. Casting the spell and spinning back distorts both you and the construct's sense of time. Conversations or events seem to happen either too fast or too slow. Sometimes both simultaneously."
The men stared at Harry, who chuckled at their open-mouthed expressions. "I'll give you both a copy of a paper I wrote on the spell. I'm considering whether to release it to the Aurors. A construct works brilliantly as a real-time monitor of someone undercover, and it's possible to do a type of apparition between the caster and the construct that bypasses wards. It's difficult, but it's doable."
"How would that work?" Remus frowned. Filius had lifted his quill in the air to scribble his mental calculations at the power requirement for such a switch and its mechanics. Harry had learned the man preferred doing to save on vanishing or crossing out his equations and thoughts when he faced something new.
"Ah, of course!" The half-goblin beamed, eyes alight with excitement. "Apparition flickering, Remus."
The former DADA professor's eyes widened. Apparition flickering was the well-known phenomena of those learning to apparate. When the mage didn't have a firm enough 'I want to be there' focus, they would vanish and reappear in the same place. Arithmancers had studied the event and concluded the person had fleetingly entered their own magic rather than the magic of the world. No one could explain the how such a process worked, only that all the magical mathematics said that's what did happen.
"I'm picking up my other training tomorrow," Harry told the pair, bringing them back to Filius' original question. "My construct will work on my metamorphing while I'm busy with those lessons. It'll also help me work on using high-level magic while being distracted, as I won't be shutting the link down."
He shot the pair a grin at their befuddled looks. It wouldn't be the craziest distraction he'd experienced under Salazar's tutoring, after all.
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8th June 1994 – The Room
They were 'outside' Hogwarts once more. Cadwalader, in all his metallic crimson glory, was being a lazy dragon and soaking up the sun's rays. The Founders, being the mad geniuses they were, created a ward that took in the actual sun's rays and stored them for when the Room needed them or for defending against overly persistent attackers.
"You're progressing at an excellent pace in your Elemental skills." Salazar's declaration got no reaction, not that the Founder expected one. His descendant was long past the need for such praise when the Lord of Magic was aware of his skill level. "We have yet to explore one aspect of the Branch, and I have an excellent reason for waiting until now before doing so."
Salazar began pacing as he continued the lesson. "The four of us often debated on the veracity of this magic being classified as Elemental. While I have Godric's and Helga's memories, and see their side of the debate more than I did when I was alive, I remain convinced that it should not be. I believe it is nothing more than an elemental aspect of the art and Branch of Summoning."
The Founder stopped and raised his hand, a dagger appearing in the clenched grip. "This is a conjured dagger. Conjuration is a term used in transfiguration when speaking of 'bringing something from thin air.' It is the first step upon the road of true Summoning Magic, and the only step many mages will ever take."
Salazar threw the weapon into the ground with a sneer and then raised his hand to take hold of another. Harry not only saw the difference between the two, he could feel it. The new dagger was almost painful to look at, as though it was the only real thing and everything else, including himself, was an illusion.
"This is a Dagger. It is the Ideal Form of what a dagger is to me. If you say the word 'dagger,' this is what I will always think of first. It is a Bound weapon. A summoned weapon that only I can use, and it is as much a magical focus as it is a lethal instrument. For as long as it exists, it is indestructible. For it is not just a dagger, it is the very concept of what a dagger is to me made real. But as it is a concept made real, the world - Reality itself - fights against its existence. Such Ideals are not meant to have a physical form. A summoner has five minutes before they feel the strain of anchoring their Bound Ideal to this reality. It is impossible to hold a Bound Ideal for over ten minutes. Most don't last beyond six."
Salazar released his hold on the weapon, bringing Harry's sense of what was real and unreal back to normal. "The obvious question is obvious. Aside from being the first step in mastering this Branch of magic, why would anyone use Bound items? Because in the limited time they exist in our world, they can do the impossible. A skilled enough practitioner can make a Bound item have any enchantment they wish, use it to break near-enough any magic they come across, and stop any magical attack dead. A Bound shield can block the Killing Curse, whereas a Bound lock pick can open the unopenable."
Harry's thoughts filled with questions, but he was long used to Salazar's teaching style. He could see the man had more foundation knowledge to impact, and held his tongue.
"This is all possible because of what you are doing when Summoning. It is true evocation. The calling forth and mastering over things beyond yourself. Wraiths, Outer Beings, deities, powerful concepts, emotional sha, and elemental atronachs. It is the last that people have classed as being Elemental Magic, for they are the embodiment of an element's nature."
Salazar paused, letting Harry consider his mentor's words. Much of the introduction to Summoning had gone over Harry's head, but that had been typical of every Higher Art the Founder had introduced him to. Harry now understood that the only way to fully understand a Higher Art was to learn and master it. For all that, his Master had already introduced him to atronachs. They could range in size from a house-elf to a dragon, although most often were human-sized, and were the destructive power of an elemental made corporeal. A lightning atronach would be a collection of stone or other materials held together by the raw power of lightning and desired nothing more than to lay waste to the world around it.
"From what you've said, a mage doesn't need to be an elemental to summon an atronach."
"They don't," Salazar confirmed. "Mastering an element makes it easier to summon and control an atronach of the same element, but only easier."
"Then I agree with you, Master," Harry stated with a firm nod. "If being an elemental is not a prerequisite, then they shouldn't be part of that Branch of magic."
"My very argument, Apprentice. Now, let us see if you can be the first person in history to manage summoning a Bound object and not an Arcane one by accident."
It turned out that was one impossible thing Harry could not do.
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23rd June 1994 – (8 years, 77 days diluted)
The atmosphere at the end-of-year feast was unique for the third time in Harry's time at Hogwarts. His first year had the mess of Slytherin losing the House Cup with Dumbledore's last-minute adjustments, while the previous year had the students near-drowning in relief that the Heir of Slytherin threat was over. The new end-of-year feast held a friendly atmosphere that transcended what colour tie or badge the students wore. Harry's Magic Club had broken down enough of the house division that those who stuck to their tribe mentality were the outliers. Most had thanked him for helping them increase their grades, although everyone saw a clear break between his apprentices and the rest. Even if they didn't understand what they were seeing.
Harry couldn't have been prouder of his students. While Cedric and the Weasley twins OWL results would come over the summer, the rest of his apprentices had stormed the rankings. Ginny, Luna, and Astoria had dominated the top three positions for their year, alternating the places between them depending on the subject, while Harry and his fellow third-years blew everyone else away. A scowling Hermione proved that. She'd been the only person to break up the thirteen names from the rankings, and then only just. She'd burnt herself out following her Time-Tuner schedule, but his apprentices had the added advantage of understanding the subjects beyond the academic root comprehension and regurgitation she preferred.
The girl had shot down Harry's last-ditch attempt to reach out to her. Ron had tried to rekindle some type of connection to the girl, only for Hermione to explicitly state she wanted nothing to do with him or anyone else. The pair had noticed the constant owl post she'd been receiving since Yule break, and the influx of letter made both realise how little contact she'd had with her parents during the previous two years. While they would have liked to have some connection with the girl, they were glad she was reaching out to her family now she'd closed herself off to being friendly with any of the students. Harry's musing of his former friend ended when Dumbledore rose for his speech.
"Another year gone!" the old man smiled out at the four tables. "And what a year it has been. Multiple records set for your exam results, something you should all be proud of -"
The man blinked as the students interrupted him with an applause. While not rambunctious, they were showing him and the staff that they were proud of themselves. "And of course, it is a double year of celebration for Gryffindor with winning both the Quidditch Cup and House Cup!"
The students surprised the headmaster a second time when a wide selection of the other three Houses clapped for the Lions. Given that seven of Harry's apprentices were fellow Gryffindors, it would have disappointed him if they hadn't won the House Cup, while the Quidditch Cup had been down to the exceptional flying of Ginny. The girl had come on leaps and bounds as a Seeker, and the only reason Draco had a chance to beat her was that Harry's old nemesis had asked him for lessons. The Weasleys had objected to his agreement, and it took Harry pointing out that professional scouts were more likely to take notice of Ginny's skills when up against better opposition.
Dumbledore's smile faded and his tone turned sombre. "And now I have something important to say. The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, yet I feel it is imperative that you know the truth. An incident in May has revealed to me that Lord Voldemort has returned."
Harry's jaw dropped along with those of the staff, while many students gasped and screamed at the announcement. The Lord of Magic couldn't believe what he was hearing. He knew Dumbledore was telling the truth, yet he couldn't understand why the old man was revealing the information now.
"It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified that I have told you. Either because they will not believe he has returned, or because they think you are too young to hear such dark things. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies." Dumbledore paused, his blue eyes scanning the horrified crowd and only he knew what he was thinking. "All of you students leaving us for good will be welcome back, should you wish to return. I say this to you all – in light of Lord Voldemort's return, we are only as strong as we are united. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and family are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open. It is my belief, and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken, that we are facing dark and difficult times. I want you all to remember this - if the time comes when you have to make a choice between doing something right, and doing something easy, remember all those who were lost in the last war against Lord Voldemort."
Dumbledore's speech cast a sombre weight over the students. They picked and prodded at the feast and then shuffled off to the dorms for one last night of sleep within Hogwarts with the thought of Voldemort pressing down on them. Yet for all the information Dumbledore's speech gave out, he never once considered speaking of the significance of the date.
Midsummer. The ritual days of the Summer Solstice lasted from the 20th to the 25th of June. In 1994, the most powerful of these days was the twenty-third with its full moon. A symbol of birth falling on one of the very days celebrating the height of summer and the start of a new turn towards the winter. It is no surprise that Tom Riddle initially wished to use the date to mark his rebirth using the blood of Harry Potter.
But while Tom Riddle could not use the date, it did not mean it wouldn't be used. Harry slept as the clock struck midnight, but Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry woke up fully for the first time in almost a thousand years. The genius loci that was far more than most ever knew used her connection to the Ley lines running beneath her physical form to force every living being within her walls into the deepest of slumbers. Their magic didn't matter. Neither their mental protections nor unique physiologies mattered. Hogwarts demanded they sleep and sleep they did, regardless of where they were or what they were doing.
A wall appeared in the third year Gryffindor male dorm. A physical and magical barrier that cut off her new Lord from his dorm mates. She was taking no chances. Power arched over Harry's body. Raw energy from Magic itself poured into the man to use him as a conduit, while the slender gold band around his finger blazed a pure white light that would have lit up Scotland's night sky had it reached outside. His hair lengthened, his cheek bones shift and sharpen, the tip of his ears lengthen to point, and beneath his closed eyelids his eyes gained two more shades of green.
The Danu Lord had come into his inheritance. And with it, the doors opened.
The touch of Magic connected to his Danu blood, Magic's blood, and then the power surged beneath Hogwarts as though grounding the mythological bolt of Zeus. Ley Lines that were the Earth's circuits of power trembled with the extra energy surging through them. Yet no mage noticed. No magical instrument picked up the shift. Because Magic declared it so. For this was not for the mages, but for Magic's other children.
Magical Beings and creatures of all kinds across Britain and Ireland turned to face their nearest sacred site, while those across the entire breadth of British Commonwealth faced Albion. For despite the British Empire having been legally shifted into the Commonwealth in modern times, the Empire had its start long before the Statute of Secrecy. When the royal family's ties to the land's magic went far deeper than they now did. The roots of the Empire and its Commonwealth successor were tied to the magic of Albion, and Albion claimed those lands and its people for its own.
And it was Albion itself that those millions of living beings felt. Albion waking. Albion welcoming.
The Muggles noticed nothing. They didn't notice when the islands' Neolithic sites began glowing. Burial mounds, passage tombs, standing stones, and henges. Thousands of them across the land of Albion, Ireland, and their islands. Sites both known and unknown. Famous and mere footnotes to the public. County Meath, Yr Eifl, Ardudwy, Orkney, Wiltshire with Stonehenge and Avebury. They and more woke with a fury to open doors in the fabric of reality. And from those doors, they came.
The Aos si. The Daoine sith. Seelie. Unseelie. Aeldari. Drukhari. Quel'dorei. Eldar. Vanyar. Avari. Sindar. Noldor. Their names were as many as the grains of sand on a beach, but each meant the same thing. High Elf.
They came. One by one and two by two. Beat by beat, inhuman steps taken by inhuman beings. While Muggle mortals slept unaware of the world changing, while mages stirred uneasy as their instincts warned those sensitive enough to hear that their time might be up, as the magical races of the British Isles and the Commonwealth fell to their collective knees as the ground metaphysically quaked beneath them, they came.
They were Magic personified. They were the soothing touch of the dark and the terrible burning of the sun. The refreshing sea that drowned its travellers and the welcoming forests housing predators ready to kill. They were the Fae.
The world stood still. Time froze. Almost two millennia of memory flooded the Aos si as they finally left their other dimensional mounds. As one, thousands of High Elves turned to face where they felt the Lord Danu sleeping and nodded their thanks at being given the chance to walk the world once more.
It was not the world they knew. It was not what they had wished to find. But regardless of Court, faction, or philosophy, each knew one thing. They had come home. And only True Death would ever force them to leave their lands ever again.
Did the land beyond Albion sing with joy or did it cry out in fear? Many would argue for either. It mattered not. They had returned, and that was their ultimate word.
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OoOoO
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Groans filled every dorm of the school the next morning. Hogwarts might have put those within her into the deepest of sleep, but she would not let them remain so when the students had an early Express to catch.
Harry had his legs over the side of the bed with his eyes closed while the rest of the dorm shuffled around him. Cadwalader's new form was already behind a heavy glamour and the vivarium with its fake snake-Cad was already back in his room at the Sight UnSeen. The mage hadn't yet decided if he would get a new snake to fill it. He had felt an influence on his mind when he woke up and was using his connection to the Slytherin and Black magics to find the cause. A fruitless search as both the Danu ring and his connection to Hogwarts told him it was nothing to worry about. He grunted at their far too cheery attitude.
"Morning, Seamus," Harry said, opening his eyes while running a hand through his long hair to pull it away from his face. The Irish teen turned his head to grunt a 'mornin'' at him, only to freeze in place.
Everyone in the dorm stopped as Seamus let out a high-pitched keen. The sandy-haired teen began shaking on the spot, and it took Ron sending a glance in Harry's direction for pieces to fall into place.
"Mate!"
The call him from his friend had Harry breaking eye contact with Seamus, who stumbled away from him. It didn't matter that the boy fell on his arse, nor that Ron's bed stopped his backward scurrying. All that mattered to the boy from the Emerald Isle was to get as far from Harry as possible, all the while pleading. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Don't take my ma, please don't take my ma!"
Ron's wand was already in his hand, and the ginger silently conjured a mirror. While the frame wasn't perfect and the reflective surface had ripples in it, the floating object allowed Harry to see what had caused Finnigan to lose his mind. "Shit."
"What the hell is going on, Potter?" Dean demanded. The dark-skinned boy had knelt down next to his best friend. Seamus cried out at the boy's words.
"He didn't mean it! He didn't mean it! Don't hurt him, please!"
The ever dependable Neville stunned both boys to leave the Lord of Magic with only his apprentices. "Harry?"
Harry's resigned sigh was a long, drawn out thing. A release of every instinct he had to fight against the continual changes of his life. "One of my Lordships had a creature inheritance attached to it."
Ron could only frown. The Weasley parents had taught their children only the basic information on Lordships. Neville's grandmother had raised him to know far more than even many of his peers about such things, and there was really only one House Harry was talking about. "Danu."
Harry pulled his gaze away from his reflection with its pointed ears and tri-toned eyes and nodded. The pointed tips weren't as severe as a High Elf's, nor were the ringed colours of his eyes as prominent, and that was the point. He was to be a bridge between the races, and his looks had to represent that.
"Bloody hell," Ron groaned, putting the pieces together. Even he had heard of that House. "No wonder Finnigan freaked."
"It's more than that," Harry told them. He waved a hand around himself and murmured a powerful glamour that would hide his new features as he listened to the ring explain what happened that night and what the changes meant. "Anyone with Celtic roots that they still hold to will feel the difference. I'll feel High Fae to them, even if they don't recognise what they're feeling."
Harry gave Neville a nod as he pushed himself off the bed to kneel in front of the stunned boys. He waited until Seamus stirred before speaking. "Seamus Finnigan, look at me."
The boy did, unable to disobey, and only Ron and Neville's wands kept Dean from doing anything to stop what was happening. The panic receded from the boy's sea-green eyes without completely disappearing. "You haven't given me your name. I wipe away transgressions between us, real or perceived. For this boon, you must return home and speak to your people. The Fair Folk walk again."
Seamus gave a desperate nod to Harry's order. The Lord of Magic hated speaking the words, but the ring had been insistent. He was a Tuatha de Danaan, and while he was born human, he had the right and responsibility to act like a Fae should he wish or the circumstances dictate.
It was Seamus who kept Dean from asking too many questions. Ron and Neville formed a natural honour guard around Harry as they headed to the Great Hall for their last Hogwarts breakfast of the school year. Harry's other Gryffindor apprentices mirrored their actions even without knowing the cause, but they all saw the way certain eyes tracked Harry's movements as he entered the Hall. Conversations stalled mid-word as every Celtic mage felt something walk amongst them. Across years and Houses, and even the staff with McGonagall being the most prominent. They all felt a reckoning was upon them and that Harry Potter would be its harbinger.
House Danu had awoken.
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OoOoO
SN:
1 – Barchoke looks like Filius from the first two HP films.
2 – The Nightside is a series about a magical hidden part of London by Simon R Green.
Last Edited - 20th November 2023
Word Count – 10,034
Previous Word Count - 9,932