Duel of Fate

by WolfgangNH

Harry Potter is an orphan, but not by the hand of Voldemort. He went after Neville on that fateful night and it changed everything. Harry and Neville are bitter enemies, while Neville is known as the Boy-Who-Lived. That does not mean that Harry is not fated for greatness himself. Dumbles, Weasley, Longbottom bashing. Mentor Flitwick. Duellist. Harry multi, no harem. Teen angst.

22. The End of Summer

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

-oOo-

Chapter 22

17 Jun 24

-oOo-

This time on Duel of Fate: It's alright to get help. Harry gets some important heirlooms.

-oOo-

August 28, 1995

London, England

Amelia was livid as she stalked through the halls of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. Having to be called to the scene of an ambush by a patronus because her Aurors were being complete wankers was not a good night. The chewing out she had given Scrimgeour for the idiocy had the man grumbling about knocking some heads together as he left her office.

If it had been a normal case, she wouldn't have been so involved, but to attack Lord Black, a friend and ally, was something she needed to be personally involved in. Three aurors were stationed in the hallway where the prisoner was.

Shacklebolt greeted her as she walked past the mediwizard station.

"Are they still alive?"

"Percival passed last night. The damage was too much, and he had lost too much blood by the time he was portkeyed here," Shacklebolt replied.

She nodded, thinking the stupid young man had received justice while still not getting half of what he deserved.

"And Charles Weasley?" she asked.

"He's badly burned over about half his body. His magical core is fluctuating. The Healers have him sedated," he surmised.

"Blast it! We need answers on why they did this and if anyone else was involved," she snapped.

"Jones pulled in Arthur Weasley this morning and they were going to be finding Molly. Hopefully we will get some answers," he replied.

"Don't they have another older boy?" she questioned.

"William. He's out of country for work. The goblin's have said he's been in Egypt the last few months," Shacklebolt answered.

"Bloody hell! Do you have anything good to report?" she snapped.

Shacklebolt took a notebook out from his pocket. "We found a portkey with both of them, two wands, Charles was wearing dragon hide armour, Percival had a few rejection letters from perspective jobs and his pink slip from the ministry on him…" he flipped the page, reading down his notes. "There was a letter on Charles from Ronald Weasley telling him that he wasn't going to be able to complete his OWL's because they couldn't afford to send him to another school."

She made a noncommittal sound. The family had plenty of motive to try to seek revenge on Sirius, Harry or a few others.

She walked up to the door. "I want to go in."

Ericks and Robards had snapped to attention. Robards put a hand on the doorknob. "The Healers say not to disturb him."

"Did they say when he will be able to talk?"

"They didn't, boss," Robards replied.

She pursed her lips. Stepping into the room, the smell of burnt flesh and heavy medicines permeated the air. Shacklebolt followed her. Walking to the bed, she looked dispassionately down on a hulking man that was mostly covered in bandages. Blood or other fluids were showing through in some places, speaking to the damage that had been done to him.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned to see a rather short man. "I do believe I gave orders that only staff was to enter this room," he told her.

"I'm sorry, Healer…" she looked to his left breast on the lime green robes, "Justice. I needed to see the suspect and ensure he wasn't in a position to talk."

The man frowned. "I understand you are the Head of the DMLE, Madam Bones, but this is my hospital ward. Please leave the patient alone."

That was the last thing she wanted to do but walked out of the room anyways. "How soon can we question him?"

Healer Justice's demeanour didn't change. "We are barely keeping him alive. It could be days or weeks if he doesn't take a turn for the worse. You and your staff continually entering the room will not hasten his recovery."

"I can understand you ire at us, but the suspect in that room is accused of Attempted Line Assassination, set two buildings on fire in Diagon Alley, one of which burned to the ground, and endangerment of no less than fifty-two people if the fire had spread to the surrounded buildings. He is a danger, and our policy is to confirm the prisoner is in our custody at least once an hour. I am sorry to violate your policies, but given the violent nature of his crimes, he is considered a violent criminal and will be treated as such."

"Now, we need to know if there are more people he conspiring with, as there is the potential that they could attack Lord Black or his ward again. When will Charles Weasley be able to talk?" she demanded.

He took in a long breath. The man fidgeted with something in his pocket. After a long sigh, he replied, "Three days at the earliest. More than likely a few weeks. His core needs to stabilize before we can revive him and start the real treatments to heal his wounds. I'm afraid he will most likely scar over more than half his body."

She nodded. "Three days. I will ensure an interrogator to be available once he is awake. If his status changes, I am to be notified at once, regardless of the time."

The Healer looked resigned, "Very well, director. If you excuse me, I should see to him. It's been almost two hours."

She stepped out of the way to let him get into the room. She met Shacklebolt's eyes. "Immediately."

"Yes, boss," the tall dark-skinned man replied.

-oOo-

August 29, 1995

Great Easton, England

Harry shot out of bed. His hand reaching for his pillow. He didn't register it flew to his hand. He hadn't had this wand for long, only a few months since Longpiddle had broken his other secondary wand, but he found this one sang to him more than the one he had gotten just after his eleventh birthday. He had been sad to lose the holly and dragon heartstring wand, but it had never been a perfect match, just the second best he had found. His other wand, the rowan wand with a dragon heartstring core, just didn't respond to him the same way now.

The polished tan wand with a slight tint of red hummed with his need for power and speed. It wasn't an Olivander wand, like the rowan that was still under his pillow. No. The red oak wand had been crafted by a wand crafted in Scotland that Andi had taken him too. Apparently, it was where all Blacks had gotten their wands for centuries because the man dabbled in the arcane, unusual and the unique.

The red oak and horned serpent horn wand was a far better match. So much so, that he had asked Ted and Andi if they could take him to get a second wand before he went back to Hogwarts since the Rowan wand just didn't feel right anymore.

Regardless of which wand had responded to his need, Harry was out of bed, frantically searching for the nightmare that had woken him. When the door burst open, most likely because of the screams that had come from him just before he had shot out of bed, his wand was already reacting before he processed what was going on.

His instinctual need, coupled with the intensive training he was going through, had started to reduce the need to make any wand motion, never mind an incantation, for most spells. All he did was point his wand towards the door. Several piercing hexes blasted from its tip.

Ted already had a shield up, having experienced this more times than they would have liked since having Harry come to live with them. In truth, he had expected far worse after Harry heard the news of what happened with Sirius.

When Harry realized that it was Ted in the doorway, a rush of horror came over him. The last people in the world he wanted to hurt were those that had given him a home. He let out a cry of anguish, the vision of Hannah falling into the hungry jaws of the werewolves below flashing across his mind before he collapsed onto the floor.

His wand clattered away, partially rolling under the bed.

He was hyperventilating. His chest felt like a vice was squeezing it. He leaned over, his hand clutching at his chest as though that would lessen the way it was getting hard to breath. His heart pounded in his chest.

"Harry?" the kind voice of Andi came to him.

He hunched over, trying to make himself into the smallest ball he could.

"Harry?" she said again. She put a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched away. He was in a full panic.

"I'm sorry," he managed to get out.

She put a hand on his shoulder again. "It's alright, Harry. No one is hurt."

He didn't flinch away, eventually letting her pull him into a hug, where he broke down…

Morning came too quickly. He was up shortly after the sun. After getting dressed, making sure his holsters were securely strapped to his forearm and leg, then looking at the spots on the wall where his hexes should have made large holes but was already repaired, he went to the kitchen.

Ted was sitting at the table drinking tea and picking at a muffin with some marmalade on it as he read through some papers. Andi got up from her tea and muffin when he came in. "A toasted muffin with marmalade or something else this morning?" she asked him.

He didn't meet their eyes, too afraid of what he had done last night. "Please," was all he said.

He sat at the table, looking down at his hands when she placed a steaming cup of strong tea and small glass of orange juice before him. The sound of butter sizzling on the hot pan shortly followed and the pleasant smell of the bread toasting soon filled the kitchen.

He didn't say a word as Andi cooked and Ted went over whatever documents he was reviewing. When she put the muffin down, she slid the orange and lime marmalade jars towards him before sitting down to finish her breakfast. After spreading some onto his muffins, he just looked at them for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Andi asked.

Harry shook his head.

She was gentle with him, but there was a firmness in her voice as well. "Harry, you have to talk to someone. The nightmares are getting worse, and you can't have a reaction like that when in the dorms at school."

He winced, knowing that is someone like Corner were to wake him, or worse, since he still held a grudge from the Luna incident last year, Harry wasn't sure he might not kill him before he realized what was going on. His stomach churned at that prospect.

When he didn't answer, she sighed. "I'm taking you into Saint Mungo's with me this morning. I have someone I want you to meet. If you like her, then you'll be talking to her this year. If not, we will find someone else. Either way, you are talking to someone about all this. I should have pressed the issue months ago, but I thought I could help you myself."

He looked up to her, seeing how concerned and troubled she was. "I'm fine."

Ted had put down his paper. "Harry, you have been remarkable in how resilient you are, but this is not an option. You are not talking with Andromeda or I. Your nightmares have gotten worse. I know that the magical world considers the way to deal with trauma to be a private and embarrassing affair, but it is good thing to get help. You don't have to do this on your own and it can be rather destructive if you don't get help."

Harry felt the shame of Ted's words. He knew that wizards didn't look favourably on mental health issues and often lashed out against those that even hinted at something like that. He knew, though, that he didn't want to hurt Andi, Ted, Dora, Sirius, Luna, Sue, Gabrielle or anyone else that was his friend or innocent.

Andi reached across the table. "If it helps, Sirius has been seeing this woman for a few months."

Harry looked up slowly. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"Wizards view mental health as a weakness and something you just handle," Ted said. "There are very few mind healers in the United Kingdoms."

He frowned, very uncertain of what to do. Andi reached across the table to take his hand. "Harry, you need help. Help that I've been failing in and should have pushed you into this a while ago."

He looked to her, hurt and feeling vulnerable, which was not something he liked to feel. For so long he had been on his own. Master Flitwick had given him a way to defend himself and the discipline to become stronger. The last few months had taught him to become more than what he was before.

Thus, when he sat in the office of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, he was feeling rebellious.

"Good morning, Andi," the woman said congenially.

"Good morning, Marsha. Thank you for meeting with us today," Andi replied.

"It's my pleasure. And who is this?" the woman asked, looking to Harry with a smile.

"My nephew, Harry. Harry, this is Healer Marsha Aberdeen. She specializes in mind healing," Andi introduced him.

"It is nice to meet you, Harry. Andi has talked quite a bit about you," Healer Aberdeen said.

"All about how I'm a nutter?" he bitterly asked. He wouldn't be weak.

"Not at all. She's talked about how well you do in school. I'm led to believe that you are good at duelling and have good friends," she said to him.

He snorted, not believing all that. "And she never mentioned anything about the nightmares and everything else? I assume you know I'm going to get an Order of Merlin and that I destroyed the Boy-Who-Lived?" he said back flatly.

Healer Aberdeen shook her head. Her hazel eyes didn't look at him pityingly, like he expected, or with awe, like he was seeing more and more when they left their house. He had felt extremely uncomfortable when a stray man had come up to him and shook his hand today. Harry almost punched the man in his big nose.

"Andi talked about some of that, but she has never mentioned your nightmares. I have read what the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly is writing about you. I can tell you are not comfortable with that," she commented.

He snorted. "It's all bloody tripe."

Andi and Healer Aberdeen shared a look. He found he didn't like being so petulant, but he didn't want to be here.

"I would like to talk about all this, if you are willing. Before we do, I have a few things we need to do before it is just you and me, Harry," she said.

"Andi won't be here?" he asked, not realizing that.

"She can stay if you want," Healer Aberdeen offered.

Harry shook his head. Luckily Andi didn't look bothered.

"So, I have a few release papers, I will make my confidentiality oath, we can talk about what the sessions will be like and a questionnaire I would like Harry to fill out," she told them.

"An oath?" Harry asked.

"I think one of the biggest things a mind healer can do with her patients is to protect what we discuss. I will pledge to keep everything we talk about between us. There will be a few exceptions. You can give me permission to talk to certain people or release certain information. The only time I will willingly break the oath is if I think you are a danger to yourself or others. In that case, I will only let the information needed known to those that need it," she explained.

Harry pondered the oath for a moment.

He wasn't weak. He was still in protest to this. She must have seen it. "If you are still dubious about this, I can talk with Andi about a different mind healer going forward, but I hope you will give me a chance at least this once."

Harry frowned.

Andi gave him an encouraging nod. "I think you will like Marsha once you get to know her."

"Fine," he eventually replied.

"Excellent. Andi, you are his legal guardian, right?"

"Ted, Sirius Black and myself," she replied.

"That is good to know. I will record that in the file. If you would, I would like yours and Harry's signatures on these," Healer Aberdeen said.

"My signature?" Harry asked. He hadn't been asked to do that before.

Healer Aberdeen smiled. "I know you are not of-age, but I think you old enough to understand what we will be doing and what your aunt is signing." Harry blinked. "This top sheet is a form that allows me to treat you. That means these sessions or any medical aid you may need. This sheet is the agreement where I take the oath and I ask you to be honest and open with me. This only really works if you are. The third form is a payment agreement between your aunt and Saint Mungo's."

"I can pay for things," Harry told her.

"I know, Harry, but this is something that Sirius wants to do for you," she told him.

"Oh. Alright," he said.

"Andi, if you would sign on this line. Harry can sign just below it," Healer Aberdeen told them.

Harry was still a little confused. "Why am I signing these?"

"Like I said, I think you old enough. I understand you are a very bright young man." At his slightly surprised look, she said, "I know you are only fifteen. You are a teenager, a young man, on the cusp of being an adult in less than two years. From what Andi tells me, you strike me as someone that has had to grow up a little early. Do you see it being fair, to either of us, if I treat you like a child? Unless you would like me too?"

He blinked a few times. Something about that had him sitting up straighter. Andi, Ted and Sirius treated him like he was older, as did Master Flitwick, but he could hear in Healer Aberdeen's voice that she meant it.

"No. I don't want to be a child," he replied.

She nodded her head. After signing the paperwork, then taking her oath, Andi left them alone.

"Healer Aberdeen?" Harry questioned as he looked at the questionnaire.

"You can call me Marsha, if that makes you more comfortable," she offered with a grin.

"Ah, right, Marsha. Why do you want to know if I think of hurting myself?" Harry asked.

"It's a standard question that I use to help understand where my patients are at in their head. Do you think of hurting yourself?" she queried.

He shook his head.

He completed the sheet, including a few questions like 'Are you happy? Rate 1 to 10.'

When he handed the sheet to her, she gave it a quick glance, before placing it on the folder on her desk. He looked to her curiously, "Aren't you going to read it?"

"I will later, unless that is something on there you want to talk about right now?" she posed to him.

He shook his head.

Marsha gave him an encouraging smile. "Are you comfortable?"

"Ah, why?" he asked.

"Well, I know most would be nervous to talk to me over a desk like this. Truthfully, it's not my favourite way. We can sit in the chairs by the fire or even go somewhere else, if you want," she offered.

He looked to the two comfortable looking chairs by the fireplace. The fire was out for now. "I would like to sit by the fireplace."

When they sat, Marsha regarded him for a few. "I don't know if you really know what happens in a session like this?"

He shook his head.

"Well, I am here to listen. I won't judge. I won't tell you what to do. If you want advice, I can help you with that. I am a Legilemecer and Occlumancer. Sometimes using those skills can help people. I will never use legillimency on you unless you allow me. Essentially, the next hour is your time," she told him.

"And if I don't want to be here?" he put to her.

Her hazel eyes had an understanding look. "That is your decision what you do with this hour, but your aunt thinks you need someone to talk to and maybe help with things, like your nightmares."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "She really didn't tell you anything about them?"

"Andi did not. She said you were struggling with some large events in your life. I offered my services," she said.

"What did Andi tell you?"

"That you were struggling to cope. She was worried that you are suppressing your emotions. She sees glimpses of anger, depression and fear. Am I to understand you are practicing occlumency with your duelling master?" she asked.

"I am," he replied.

"Do you use that to suppress feelings?"

"Master Flitwick tells us that if we get too emotional during a duel we will stop to think rationally," he told her.

"I can understand that. I would like to circle back to this later. For now, why don't you tell me about yourself," she offered to him.

He frowned. "You said you've been reading the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. What would you want to know that isn't in there?"

She gave him another small smile. "I can see you are bright. I want to know the real Harry Potter, not the boy that everyone is talking about. Tell me something about yourself that those that read those rags wouldn't know."

Harry gave a small smile. Andi called them rags half the time. "You really don't want to hear about what's in the papers?"

"I just want to know about you. I know you go to Hogwarts. What house are you in? Do you have friends? What is your favourite class? The stuff that makes you who you are, not what they are saying about you to the press," she coaxed.

He still wasn't sure about this. He only provided the information she requested. "I'm in Ravenclaw. I have a few good friends and others I get along with. I like transfiguration and charms."

She took it good naturedly. Even though she was going to treat him like he was an adult, it was obvious she was used to dealing with petulant teens. "I was in Ravenclaw myself, though that was many years ago. Do the upper years still try to claim the best books from the library on the first day and keep them all year?"

Harry grinned. "They try."

Her brow rose. "And what does that mean?"

"A head girl was allowed to enchant the library to reclaim all the books after two weeks and then the same person has to wait two weeks to take it out. The rumour is she wanted a book that another claw had taken and was given permission to enchant the library," Harry said.

The woman chuckled. "That sounds like my old house, though I wished that enchantment was there when I went. I tried for five years to get the Potion Master's Handbook…"

"By Emeritus Dagworth-Granger?" Harry said with a smirk.

Her eyes narrowed in on him. "You read it?"

"Managed to get it first year. Then I found a copy of it in my family's vault. It's a little outdated compared to Erasmus's book, or what my mother came up with, but it is still a good read," Harry told her. He caught that slightly jealous look that any Ravenclaw would have for being denied knowledge. It was the first time that he had seen some real emotion from her, instead of the mask she seemed to have been wearing. Something about it had him feeling a little more relaxed.

"I will admit, I'm a bit envious. I have not been able to get my hands on that book," she said.

"One of my friends just recently found out she is the Dagworth-Granger heir. Maybe I can talk to her and see if there is anything she has that you can look at," Harry offered. He didn't want to give up his book since a few generations of Potters had annotated the book.

"I heard about that. I'm impressed you know her," she said. "If that is possible, I wouldn't say no at a peak."

"I'll see Hermione on the train in a few days and can ask. I don't know how much she will be willing to share. It might be mostly family magic," he said.

"I can understand, but just to get an afternoon… anyways, I take you like potions? It sounds like you do," she prompted.

He shrugged. "Potions are fine. I'm good at it, but not really something I care for."

"Why is that?"

"The professor isn't the best," Harry replied.

"Professor Severus Snape? I hear he is very hard on students and not a pleasant man."

"I like Professor Snape. He's very knowledgeable, he just doesn't understand how to effectively teach and can be very harsh in his criticism if you don't pay attention or do the work, but I can understand. Potions can be dangerous. In my first year, I heard a Gryffindor boy blew up his cauldron and got three of them sent to the hospital wing for a few days. I think you deserve detention for extra lessons if you do something like that," Harry replied.

She nodded her head. "I can see that…"

The next hour was spent with Marsha pulling out more information about school, living with Andi and Ted, his godfather and eventually the orphanage. They didn't touch on the big topics, but for some reason Harry felt a little more comfortable and agreed to meet with her once a week. Andi would figure out when was a suitable time to leave Hogwarts once he got his schedule.

-oOo-

That Evening…

Great Easton, England

Harry sat on the rocks in the small wood copse that Luna and him usually saw the faeries around. He wasn't a huge fan of the cheeky little things that kept trying to steal things from them. He put up with them because of Luna.

"The wrackspurts are heavy around you. It's keeping our friends away," the airy voice of said girl came to him.

"How did you know I wanted you here?" he asked, not looking up to watch her hopping along the mossy rocks that lined the small brook.

"You called to me," she simply said.

He gave a little smile before pulling his legs up, wrapping his arms over his knees and putting his chin on this arms. He hadn't seen her in a month. Not since her father and her had gone to Canada to look for crumpled horned snorkacks and sasquatches.

She hopped onto the large rock and took up a similar position as him, with her head cocked to the side and looking at the wilting stalked of flowers that were in full bloom the last time she was here.

"How was your expedition?" he asked.

"Not very fruitful. We didn't find anything we were looking for, but daddy and I met a tribe of shapeshifters that turn into killer whales," she told him.

He looked to her. "I didn't think animagus could turn into fish."

She shook her head. "They are not fish. Animagus cannot turn into something like them though. They are too large. The tribe are not animagus though."

His eyebrow rose. "You mean they are like werewolves?"

"Not at all. They have been granted powers by their goddess to protect their fishing grounds and other marine life. They are friends with two selkie villages and a merfolk village. I found I don't have a particular talent to learn the selkie language, but daddy does," she replied.

He knew well enough by now that Luna knew what she was talking about, and he felt a little foolish to forget that whales were mammals. "I'm glad you had a good time."

"I am as well," she said.

They fell into an easy silence as dusk began to set in. Harry put his chin back on his arms as Luna serenely watched as a few light started to flit around the trees in the growing darkness. Her head switched to cock to the right. "They don't want to be around you. Are you alright?"

He let out a long sigh. Since meeting with Marsha this morning, he had been asking himself the same question. "I think so," he said, sounding rather uncertain.

Luna put a comforting hand on his arm. "Your aunt told me you won the tournament. You don't seem pleased about that though."

He shrugged. "A lot has happened since you left."

She shifted a little closer. "I read the papers. Is Susan alright?"

"I think so. I've gotten one letter since she left," he told her. It had been a long letter where she begged him to come and take her back home. He hadn't written back yet. He was finding he missed her now that she was gone. He should have gone to see her more, but he wasn't really in a good place with how close Hannah, her and him had been.

Luna leaned against him, putting her head on his shoulder. It was the closest she had ever gotten to him. Harry found he didn't mind, leaning his head against hers.

"You aren't alone, you know," she told him.

He didn't say anything. As they sat, his mind settled, and the faeries came closer.

They were interrupted by Sirius yelling out, "Harry? Luna? Where are you?"

Luna sat up and held out a finger. A fairy alighted on it, shimmering a pleasant blue in the growing darkness. "They will guide us back."

"Why?" he asked, hearing Sirius call for them again.

"They are protectors of the wood. Like you are a protector. They just fear you will lose your way and don't want to be corrupted like that," Luna told him.

He snorted. "We're coming!" Harry yelled back to Sirius. He got up, holding a hand out to the odd girl he regarded as one of his closest friends. "Let's go see what he wants."

She took his hand, the faery taking flight and flitting around them. The little pests didn't try to steal anything from him this time. They stayed close to the rocks to light the way home. It wasn't until the light from Sirius's wand found them did the little creatures flit away.

"There you are," Sirius said, sounding relieved. "I've been looking for you."

"I needed to get out of the house," he told his godfather.

"And the faeries needed friends," Luna added.

Harry chuckled while Sirius looked at her oddly for a second. "Right. I'm glad you came over, but I need to talk with Harry for a bit, if you don't mind Luna?"

"Of course. Just don't make his wrackspurts worse. He's already infested, and I fear if it grows, they will take over," she said in a serious way.

"Ah, right," Sirius said, looking unsure of how to take that.

"Thanks, Luna. I can see you tomorrow," Harry told her.

"Daddy and I are going to Diagon Alley to get my supplies. I rather think I will see you on the Hogwarts' Express," she told him. Catching him off guard, she gave him a quick hug before skipping through the tall grass back to the house in Titmouse Field.

Harry had a small smile come to his face. It was hard not to be a little happy around the girl.

"She is… colourful," Sirius remarked.

Harry laughed. "Brilliant, I say."

"Sure, we'll go with that." Sirius nodded up the hill towards his house. "Come on, pup, I have something to talk with you about."

Harry fell in step as they made their way through the grass. "Is this about the attack the other night?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. I don't want you to worry about that. Just stick to your training, do well in school and have fun with your friends."

Harry frowned. "They tried to kill you, Sirius."

The older man scratched his chin before sighing. "Alright, I know. We are taking more precautions until we find out why."

"They are Weasel… Weasleys," he said. Healer Aberdeen had commented that if he wanted others to treat him as a grown up, he should stop using childish names. "What other reason could they have."

Sirius caught the change but didn't comment. "I don't know. I know what it looks like, and I know we are in a blood feud with the family, but something about it just seems off."

"Off? Sirius, they tried to kill you!" Harry exclaimed.

"I know, pup, but I'm trying not to march over to the Burrow and challenge the entire clan to a duel until Amelia has more answers. There are certain protocols, and if this was a coordinated attack approved by their father, then I will. If not, then there are other laws around a blood feud that must be followed," Sirius explained.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Sirius! By law, we are allowed to retaliate. I swear I am going to go after the twins once I can."

"You will not," Sirius said in a rather harsh voice. "Hogwarts is neutral ground. You will avoid them on Hogsmeade weekends. Do you understand?"

"No, I don't," he shot back.

They were approaching the main house.

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. "Listen, Harry. I understand how you feel. I really do, but you can't go around seeking revenge like that."

"Why?"

Sirius sighed. "That is part of what I want to talk to you about. Come inside," he told him as they got to the door, and he opened it.

Harry felt rather disgruntled. He wanted to make sure their enemies never have the chance to hurt those he cares for again. Stepping into the house, he noticed a few packages and a half dozen books on the kitchen table. Once the door was closed, he spun around on his godfather. "Why?" he demanded.

"Take a seat," Sirius told him, moving to the table. Feeling a little petulant, he didn't move. Sirius sat, looking up at him. "What do you know about family magic?"

"What does this have to do with me wiping out the Weasley family?" Harry put to him.

"More than you know, pup. I know you found some books in your vaults. Did you find any grimoires, journals or your family's history?" Sirius responded.

Harry frowned. "Not much. Mostly just out of print books and a few incredibly old journals."

"Did they go into your family's history or the magic that your line naturally tends towards?"

"Not really, only that some of my ancestors were ward and rune specialists. That's all I have found," Harry said, his curiosity poking through his anger and fear.

Sirius nodded. "I thought so."

Harry looked to the table. There was a dawning understanding over coming him. "Is that… is that the stuff the Longpi… the Longbottoms had?"

Sirius moved his arm over the piles as though he was giving Harry the treasures of the ancients. "This here, as best I can tell, is the collected history and family magic of the Potters, Peverells and Black magics. I haven't really told you all I know about your family yet, pup. Most families wait until the heirs are sixteen, when they can legally take up their full rights early if there is no head of house."

Harry moved a little closer. He wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing as he hungrily looked the eighteen tomes he could count. "If you would normally wait until I'm sixteen, why tell me now?"

"Because I think you old enough and that you need to understand your family's magic before you do something that could corrupt it, or you," Sirius seriously said.

He looked up. "I don't understand."

"I can only apologize for that and do what I can to help. I know that we have only had a few months to get to know each other, but I think Andi and I forget that you didn't grow up in the wizarding world with how well you seem adapted to it. Your family are what is known as Lancers. You are defenders of the realm. Protectors and warriors that draw their power to keep our world safe," Sirius said.

Harry had a disgruntled look. "You mean that shite where I'm destined to beat Voldemort is real?"

"No bloody clue," Sirius responded, "but your magic will call out to fight the darkness. Your family always has. I see it in how protective you have become over your friends and family. The true power of your family is starting to wake early. Usually, it develops a year or two after a wizard is fully of age. James found his stride during Auror training. That first year he went from a competent duellist and strong transfiguration adept to the one of the scariest people I have ever seen on the battlefield," he told him.

Harry moved to sit at the table. He ran a hand over the largest tome before him. It had to be six inches thick, stuffed with thick parchment pages and covered in what could only be dragon skin.

"Your father went toe-to-toe with the best of You-Know-Who's forces and always came out on top. I read a little of his diary." Sirius indicated a small blue leather journal. "He duelled Voldemort to a standstill three times. I had thought it twice. Dumbledore is the only other person I know that could do that singlehandedly. I'm no slouch with a wand, but James was a master by the age of twenty. Given a few more years, and he might have bested old Moldyshorts himself," Sirius told him.

Harry looked up, his hand still on the book. It was calling to him. The magic still imbued in its pages warmed to his touch. "My father was that good?"

"Yes, and I can tell you that you already match his abilities when we graduated from Hogwarts," Sirius told him.

"How did he get so good?" Harry questioned.

"Uncle Fleamont started to teach him the family magic our last year at school. I learned some of it, but I wasn't let into the really secret lessons. Uncle Fleamont and Aunt Euphemia may have adopted me, but I wasn't a Potter by blood or the heir," Sirius said.

Harry looked back to the tome. Opening the cover, he asked, "This is all the knowledge my dad had?"

"I would say your mum too. Spouses are allowed the same access, and given your mum's ability in charms and arithmancy, I wouldn't be surprised if she studied a few of these tomes too. There are several lifetimes of knowledge in these tomes," Sirius solemnly said.

Harry looked at the inside page of the book. There was a list of names. It took him a moment to realize that it was every relative that had added to it. The first was an Igraine Peverell. The last was his grandfather, Fleamont Potter. He ran his fingers over the names, slowly counting twenty-three names. The history and magic of that one book was more than he ever thought he would have.

"I want to know it all," he said in an awed voice.

Sirius chuckled. "I bet you do. You have to understand, though, pup, that there is untold knowledge in all these books. Some of it will be dark. Some what we could consider light. Much, I would suspect, would be between as the Potters were more of a neutral family when it came to magic, using anything they could, except the really dark magics like necromancy, the Unforgivables and sacrifices. Uncle Fleamont said that the Potter magic worked best when used protect and defend, never for revenge. Revenge warps and corrupts your magic, and the family spells may react in unexpected ways."

Harry looked up. He frowned. "I want to kill them."

"I know. My magic sings for that. The Blacks were not as merciful as the Potters, and many of my family's magics are brutal and vengeful. It is a path I try to avoid, for all magics have a price. The darker you go, the more it exacts. There is a reason my family is known for the Black madness. It is the price we pay to gain power over our magics. The Potters pay their toll in service. It doesn't mean you need to be in service to the ministry or crown, but you must be in service to a higher cause. One that does the most good for the most people. That is what being a Lancer means. Most Potters are Lancers of the Light or the Grey, to symbolize the magics they prefer, but you can be what you want. Just know there is a price to pay," Sirius told him.

Harry looked at his godfather for a long few moments. "And if I use my family magic to get revenge?"

"I don't know. Uncle Fleamont said that the family doesn't talk about that, and James would never tell me what happens. I am hoping it is in one of these books, but since it's not my family magic, I don't want to take the chance that there are protections on these tomes." Sirius indicated the books.

Harry turned the page. It was full of funny squiggly lines, dots and slashes. He had to stare at it for a long moment before it started to make sense.

For the future generations of the Peverell issue, I hast taken to record the knowledge of mine forefathers ere the magic is lost. I still morn the burning of the corky library and shall endeavour to document all that I wot, and hope that future generations shall doth the like, as this book shall be imbued with the faculties of the issue line to only be surprised when the last of mine blood is no moe or a future heir decided the knowledge too dangerous to be passed on.

From now till I draw mine last breath, this shall be the work of mine legacy I shall leave behind and shall pass along to the issue I am set to marry into upon the new year festival. The Peverell magic shall not be forgotten, and I hope to enhance the Potter line, of which I shall carry the future heirs of both.

Igraine Peverell, the last of the Peverells.

As he read, he quietly mouthed the words, as they were of an old form of English that he wasn't very familiar with.

Sirius shuddered on the other side of the table. "I still find that creepy."

Harry looked up. "What? It's only a forward about how Igraine Peverell was preserving her family's magic. I think. It's a rather odd writing style. "

"Not that. You were hissing and spitting again. I know that Parseltongue isn't bad, but even my family considered it off," Sirius told him.

Harry shook his head. Usually, he knew when he was speaking parseltongue. "I was hissing?"

"Didn't you realize?"

Harry shook his head. Looking at the page again, he saw the squiggles, dots and slashes. It took him a moment to realize it was the visual representation of the parseltongue. He had never seen this before. "Bloody hell. It's in parseltongue," he said in an awed voice.

Sirius gave a nervous chuckle. "I didn't know James was a parselmouth."

Harry turned back to the front page. Looking at his grandfather's names, Harry said, "I don't think he was. His name is not in this book. Fleamont Potter is the last name."

Sirius nodded as though in thought for a few. "I wonder if that is why Uncle Fleamont had to train James directly. I don't ever remember him reading that book."

"Wicked," Harry said after a few.

"I know you probably want to take all this to school, but I can't let you."

"What do you mean I can't take these?" Harry indignantly said.

"The knowledge of the Potters shouldn't be left in a place that anyone can find it. Professor Flitwick and I have worked out times you can leave the school to study. If you want, I will help you the best I can, or Andi can, but if you don't want us to know, I can understand. I only ask you be careful. I can give you this though," Sirius told him, pushing a wrapped package towards him.

Harry took in a long breath to calm himself. He wasn't being denied the knowledge, he just had to temper the pace he got it in. "Fine. What's in the package?"

"Something of your father's, and his father before him, and his father before him. To tell you the truth, I haven't the foggiest as to how long it's been in your family, but I've never seen it's like and had feared it lost," Sirius told him.

Harry reluctantly took his hand off the book. Taking the paper wrapped package, he could tell there was clothing in it. Sirius looked rather expectantly at him. Harry wasn't sure to feel elated or dubious?

Unwrapping the paper, a dark blue material spilled out. It felt like water over his hands but wasn't wet. He caught it and looked at it for a moment. Fine threads of silver runes were embroidered into it. It took him a moment to figure out how to hold it and see it was a cloak made of material like silk. "What is it?"

"Put it on," Sirius encouraged, sounding like an excited schoolboy.

"Why?"

Sirius rolled his eyes at him. "I solemnly swear it is your father's cloak and it will do no harm to you."

He got up, his eyes not leaving Sirius's, just in case this was a joke. After wrapping the cloak over his shoulders, a huge smile spread across Sirius's face. "Now look down."

Harry thought the man was a big child until he looked down… "It's a bloody invisibility cloak!"

Sirius started to laugh. "That's about what Moony said the first time James showed it to us."

Harry looked up. "Sirius, how can this be my fathers? They never last more than a few years!"

"No clue, pup, but I swear that's been in your family for generations. Maybe one of these books holds the secrets," Sirius told him.

Never had Harry not wanted to go back to Hogwarts, but looking at the books on the table, all he wanted to do was dive into his family's true legacy.

-oOo-

That night…

Hogwarts, Scotland

Filius preferred his house in the town below to the quarters in the castle, but per his contract, he moved back to the castle before the semester started and was to remain in the castle most nights during the year. His grandmother had been a goblin maiden who had found a match in a man named goblin-kind after serving her clan as a warder.

His mother had been a half-goblin, treated far worse than any goblin or human, as she had been neither. Through blood, sweat and tears, she had managed to work her way out of the whore house she had ended in after his clan had been raided and all but killed off. He had been her only child. Educated in free holdings of the goblin lands in the Scandinavian Mountains, accepted to Urmston before it's fall in the Grindelwald wars, he passed the ICW tests to be able to take up a wand and earn his NEWT's.

It had been a hard-fought battle, and he had been twenty-two by the time he had obtained his certifications, but his mother had been proud of him. For the next forty years, he would claw his way to the top of the European, then world duelling circuits. Along the way fighting in the Grindelwald wars. During those wars, he had met Albus Dumbledore, the current Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Deputy Headmaster. It was a relationship that would lead to his charms mastery and then an associate professor position in the late sixties.

Back then he had believed that Dumbledore was as great as his legend made him out to be, and from what he had seen, he didn't doubt it. Then the Blood Wars of Voldemort had come. As the bloodshed escalated, the great man had pulled back, as though afraid of something.

He wasn't sure what, but Filius had heard rumours. Rumours that seemed unbelievable given the pure blood fervour of the Knight of Walpurgis, then the Death Eaters. Rumours that he had forgotten about until Harry had come to him a few nights ago.

His most promising apprentice had been troubled.

A strange man had come to talk to him about becoming his master. The boy had been upset, but there was also something that bothered him. Harry hadn't told him something and whatever that something was it had the teen thinking deep thoughts that Filius wasn't sure about.

He wasn't sure about many things with Harry right now, but this one bothered him more.

Looking at the name he had written down, so as not to forget it, he leaned forward in his chair, putting his fingertips onto his lips.

Next to the sheaf with his notes was the aged file in an old manilla folder of a boy who had come from unknown origins, was sorted into Slytherin, had a record that could easy challenge miss Granger or a few other of his top students, and then became Head boy.

By all means, the boy was on a meteoric rise, even if he had been a Muggleborn.

But he didn't understand.

After leaving school, the boy just seemed to disappear.

That wasn't an abnormal thing for Muggleborns, but not ones as obviously talented as this boy had been. He was gifted in magic beyond even Harry, if the records are correct. Perhaps Dumbledore and a hand full of others that had come through these halls would have been as academically inclined, not to mention as decorated or have such glowing references from McGonagall, Slughorn, Merryweather and Dippet, the headmaster at that time.

Something was off here, and he wasn't sure what.

As he dug through his thoughts and memories, something kept niggling at him about this student that went back to Dumbledore, and then Severus. It bothered him enough that he got out of his chair to wander the corridors.

The clock tower struck nine as he descended towards the basement and the rooms of the one man that had been on Harry's side in this school this past year besides himself. When he knocked on the door, he patiently waited. After a few, a deadbolt could be heard before the door cautiously opened.

A sallow, greasy hair man looked down at him with his dark eyes. He was only in trousers and a shirt. His trademark robes hanging on a rack by the door. With a rather impassionate tone Severus asked, "Filius, should I be curious why you wander down here this late on a night when the students have not yet returned?"

"Severus, would you share a drink with me? I have something that is troubling me, and your name keeps coming to mind," he told the younger man.

The first emotion crossed his face. Severus looked intrigued. After a moment, he opened the door wider. Once inside, he was shown to a sofa. "Did you bring the libations, or should I offer?"

"A guest never comes empty handed," Filius said, reaching for a pocket in his robes and pulling out a glass bottle with a pale green liquor in it. Severus's brows rose. "Goblin whiskey. Six years aged."

"This is a rare treat. I take it whatever is bothering you about me is worse than I feared?" Severus asked, moving to get two glasses before joining him.

Filius poured them each only a half inch of the liquor. It was very potent, but more importantly it was very hard to get, and one of the most sought after liquors in the British Isles. Severus took his and sipped, letting out a sigh of deep satisfaction.

"It is not directly about you. I am unsure if this is bad or not," Filius said.

Severus took another small sip. "Well, unless you tell me your thoughts, I cannot tell you one way or the other."

Filius grinned. Severus and him had never been at lager heads like him and most of the other professors. The man knew he would defend his eagles and thus they were left mostly alone. Over the last fourteen years they had developed a grudging respect of the other, even what you might call a professional friendship. Because the man could keep up with his sharp mind and verbal quips that made these few conversations they had like this enjoyable.

"I thought you could read my thoughts?" Filius issued the friendly challenge.

Severus gave him a level look. "I would never try such a think as that. I may be a good duellist, but I hold no delusions that I would be hard pressed to defeat you, if at all."

Filius let a small bit of his teeth show through his grin. "A wise man." Severus nodded his thanks. "As you know, my apprentices were in the Zurich U16 tournament last weekend."

"Yes, the papers are making a big deal out of it. If they are not careful, the level head of Potter may start to become more like his father's than his mother's," Severus commented.

Filius chuckled. "I think that fear will be unfounded. Harry doesn't want any of the adulations the ministry is heaping on him. But this does concern Harry."

"How so?"

Filius took a sip of his own liqueur, savouring the smoothness before the characteristic bite came to his throat. It was a pleasant experience. Goblins weren't all pain and blood. They could appreciate the finer things. "He was approached by a scout. A man I have never heard of. It is something I find odd since I know all the major masters, schools and firms that would like to recruit someone like Harry."

"And who is this man?"

"All I have is a name and his record from Hogwarts in the nineteen-forties," Filius said.

Severus's hand tightened on the glass. It was the only sign that this might be a conversation the man didn't want to have. If Filius hadn't been watching for something, he would have surely missed it.

"That is a while ago. Are you sure the man was a prior student?"

"I am not, but the man told Harry his name is Tom Riddle, and I was able to find records of an earlier head boy of the same name. There has been no other Riddles through this school in the last two hundred years," he replied.

Severus was clamping down on his occlumency for this not to be important. His hunch had been right, and his instinct was telling him he was walking into a dangerous morass. "Severus, why is this name so troubling to you?"

Severus didn't reply for a long moment. When he did, his voice was measured and emotionless, "I am… bound. You must not let Harry anywhere near this man…" Severus's left eye twitched a slight bit. It was like he was fighting a vow or something else. "Harry must stay away."

Filius regarded Severus. Alarms were going off in his head.

"It would be best if you stop looking down this path as well, Filius," Severus warned him.

He didn't say anything, eventually bringing the glass to his lips. After taking a sip, he sat back on the sofa. "Are you prepared for the students to return?" he asked, hoping that by changing the subject he would ease the man's pain on whatever oaths he had binding him, and perhaps getting more information if Severus found a way around his bindings.

"As best I ever can be. I'm sure the dunderheads will make a mess of the stores the first day back," he commented.

They spent a while having one more glass of the goblin whiskey before he retired, positive that the man had given him several other clues that he now had to ponder on. That comment about Borgin and Burkes had been out of place. As had the one about Lucius Malfoy.

He feared that his apprentice was in grave danger and he didn't know how to save him if this was leading where his gut was telling him it was. He didn't have enough proof yet to make that assumption. Not yet.

On his way up to his quarters, he passed by Albus's new quarters. He was still livid with the man, but he was the only other name that he associated with Riddle. Pausing for a few minutes, he debated about putting his anger to the side for a bit to talk with him but decided that he was still too likely to use his wand to get answers, which might see him in the hands of the Aurors.

Continuing to his office, he was concerned about the correct path to take.

-oOo-

The next time on Duel of Fate: Back to Hogwarts.

-oOo-

A/N: DO not feel you need to read this. This is my opinion and a glimpse into my mind set. If you agree or not, that is your opinion. This is mine.

Just in case anyone is curious, I put a lot of thought into the wands and there was a reason I never really discussed them until now, the biggest is that it didn't seem to matter to me, but now has a major impact for the story.

If anyone looks into wand lore, Rowan and Red Oak wands are excellent for duellist. Rowan wands are more for those that follow the light, as not a single dark wizard was known to have one, while red oak wands are great for duellists with fast reactions, those that are quick witted and adaptable and can have quick tempers.

Holly wands are often for those that need to overcome anger and impetuousness, and who are often involved in dangerous events or quests. I just don't feel this wood matches this Harry.

Given the prophecies swirling around Harry, and the way he is reacting to things, I hope it is understandable why the rowan wand doesn't really answer to him anymore.

Lastly, cores. Dragon heartstrings are often related to those that learn spells fast and can be prone to use Dark Arts. The horned serpent horn should be obvious… I would hope. Besides being incredibly powerful, they respond to parseltongue, even at times humming or emitting a warning sound if danger is near.

-oOo-

A/N: Scheduling and my muse is conspiring to uphold a 2-3 week update schedule for the foreseeable future.