Loyal Pet

by H Bregalad

Bellatrix is an animagus and escapes with Sirius, Harry catches her and decides to keep her for a pet, she decides to raise him into a Lord and Master that she can be proud to follow. Rated M for sex and animagus sex. Warning: Polyamory eventually. There is also violence, including towards children and animals. You have been warned. Based on timbarney110's challenge 'loyal pet.'

62. Year 5 Chapter 36

Aftermaths: Part 2

In the page program arriving room they found Rebekah waiting for them, quietly revising at a conjured desk. She looked up when they arrived, "Harry," she said, "I have some advice I need to give you. I'm afraid you'll find it insulting, and you don't have to take it of course, but I need to give it to you."

Harry blinked, "Then very probably I need to listen very carefully, what is it?"

"You need to go to the hospital wing right now and 'play Dumbledore'. Some of us were injured and went right away, and those have probably left again already. But some of the injuries weren't really noticed until people undressed for showers, or slept off enough adrenalin to feel pain."

Harry nodded, "understood. I'll go right away, and if you want to compile a list and double check whatever list I can wheedle out of Madam Pomfrey, I'd appreciate that also."

She raised an eyebrow, then nodded, "I'll give it to you at breakfast."

"Thanks," said Harry, "also thanks for the advice. I'll go right away. Girls, one or two of you may come with if you like, I think all of you would be too overwhelming."

"Ginny, I think that's you."

Ginny bit her lip, "depends, if Madam Pomfrey is already looking after them, they might need your magic, not mine."

"Oh!" said Parvati, "yeah, alright."

On the way up the stairs, Ginny squeezed Parvati's hand, then climbed ahead. Parvati took Harry's hand.

.

"Harry!" said Madam Pomfrey, "Took you a while to get here, how bad is it."

"Not to worry you," said Harry, "That's my line."

"What?"

"I'm fine," said Harry, "But how much do I owe you for treating my 'mercenaries and allies?' "

Madam Pomfrey blinked, "Oh, is that how it is?"

Harry shrugged, "it can be."

"They've been tight-lipped, so I can only make some guesses who were in battle rather than fights in the corridors."

Harry nodded, "but you have a vague idea who is in our defence tutoring group."

"Certainly."

"And if I also told you most of them were wearing dragon-hide potions aprons for armour, would the pattern of injuries that still happened anyway tell you who is who?"

"Yes," she said, "If I felt like doing that much extra paperwork."

Harry nodded, "I'm willing to pay for their treatments if it matters. And I'd like their names so I can say 'thank you,' for an extra time or three."

"If you'd wanted that information, you should have hired your own healer."

Harry nodded, "I will if there ever is a next time. Right now I'm feeling terrible that I didn't think to order them to raid the infirmary that we'd just captured before they returned. On the other hand, we didn't have a real healer with us, so I'm not entirely sure that would have been the correct choice for all of them."

"Is it well stocked?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"Then it would probably have been sufficient for all but two or three."

Harry relaxed.

Pomfrey glared, then nodded him towards two curtained-off beds. Then walked ahead.

Harry and Parvati followed her direction.

At the first curtain, she motioned them to stay back then peeked behind and there was a muttered conversation, then she stepped aside and waved them on.

"Ahem," she said, "in future, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring swords in here."

"Yes Ma'am, I'm sorry," said Parvati, "I was" just taking her home, no! "on my way to lock it up when we were informed that anyone was here."

Madam Pomfrey seemed to consider that for a moment, then nodded.

.

"Hello, Katie," said Harry.

Parvati stared at the bandaged left hand.

"How bad is it?" whispered Parvati.

Katie smiled wryly, "I was using the buckler shield charm, doing pretty good too, but I got tired and let it get smaller. I lost a pinkie and half my ring finger to some kind of cauterising curse. Professor Snape came and got the curse off so Pomfrey could start them regrowing."

"Oh," said Parvati, "wow. How long will it take?"

"Supposed to be two days, but they said if it looks good enough in the morning, and I promise not to use it, they'll clear me for everything except flying and herbology."

"So sorry," said Harry, "I hope it heals perfectly."

Katie nodded.

"Thank you for helping us," said Harry.

"We didn't go to help just you," said Katie, "We went to do our share keeping England free of monsters."

"I know," said Harry, "And we did clear out a lot of them."

Katie grinned.

"Still, I sort of chose to be leader, and all of you let me, so now it's my job to be the one to say, 'thanks,' even though it's all of us that feel it."

Katie chuckled, "You're not even the first of my friends and acquaintances to say it."

"And I hope I'm not the last," said Harry.

Katie rolled her eyes.

She struggled for a moment then took a deep breath, "Though, I'd prefer not to be linked with it all, in the eyes of the general public."

Harry shrugged, "I totally understand, the reward for heroics is people expecting similar things in the future."

Katie snorted, "or wanting revenge, don't forget that."

Harry grunted, "Yeah, we got the top of the organisation, and that night's reserve forces, and the support staff. And a bunch of war and espionage material. I have no idea what percentage of off-shift personnel were sleeping at home instead of … at that base."

Katie nodded, "Yeah, but they'll be cowed and leaderless again."

Harry shrugged, "but will they?" said Harry, "after they melted away into the woodwork last time, do you think they'll do the same thing again, or do you think their Dark Lord drummed a bit more resilience into the organisation this time?"

"I don't know that any more than I can predict the stock market," said Katie.

"Fair enough," said Harry.

Katie glanced at Parvati, glanced at their hands, and her sword, then back, "You're different."

Huh?

"I knew you two were betrothed or something, but now … hmm."

"What?" said Harry.

Katie smirked, but ignored Harry, keeping her eyes on Parvati's face, "before, you were play-acting the noble lady. Now you're, I don't know, … just a soldier that happens to be married to another soldier?"

"Two battles and a too-short honeymoon will do that," said Parvati.

Katie gave a tired whistle.

Parvati nodded.

Harry moved his hand from hers to across her shoulders.

"Well then," said Katie, "Thanks for coming to see me before you go rest."

"Of course," said Parvati, "we came as soon as we heard."

Katie rolled her eyes and nodded, "then … go check on Angelina."

"Ah, right," said Harry, "thank you again, hope to see you around sooner rather than later."

"Of course," said Katie, "Likewise."

.

"Angelina?" said Harry.

She turned her head to look at them.

She lay on her stomach with her shoulder and a quarter of her back and part of her arm covered in an angry red burn, and a thick layer of salve.

"Heya, Potter," she said and rolled onto her unaffected side. Revealing just how naked she was above the waist.

The burn extended down the front of her shoulder as well, though not nearly as far. The edges weren't the outline of a curse flash, but the outline of something dripping. Whatever it was, it had happened while she'd been upright.

She noticed Parvati's flinch, then chose to ignore it, and Parvati entirely.

"Like what you see Harry?"

"I see a small-time hero, with a big mouth," said Harry.

Angelina smirked, "I know what you like."

Parvati found herself glaring, and tried to stop.

"You keep confusing me with Fred," said Harry, "I can't understand how, we look nothing alike."

Angelina laughed, then winced, and lowered herself back to the mattress.

Her eyes found Parvati again.

"Don't worry," she said, "I flirt with everyone, just like Fred, you know."

"I'm well aware," said Parvati, "but I've never heard you apologise for it before."

Angelina shrugged, then winced, "I was never quidditch captain before, turns out that sexual harassment has a different meaning when you're the one in charge, I've been trying to keep an eye on myself, keep it restricted to environments where I'm not in charge, but sometimes there's overlap." She lifted herself enough to shrug with only her unaffected shoulder.

"I see," said Parvati.

Harry released the breath he'd been holding.

"What's your prognosis?" he said.

Angelina explained that she'd had some kind of spreading cursed chemical burn. The spell had caught her on the shoulder, and she'd thought it just a regular burn. Until she'd showered, and it had spread. Pomfrey was fairly sure she had the curse broken and the poison neutralised. But she was being kept under observation until she'd healed enough to prove that. Probably four more days.

Also because it hurt too much to put clothes over.

"Do you have friends to copy notes from?" said Parvati.

Angelina nodded, "yeah, I'll be fine, as long as this really heals in time for exams and the Ravenclaw game."

Angelina shot Parvati a dirty look, "You root for us and not Ravenclaw right?"

Parvati rolled her eyes, "Padma and I both root for Gryffindor, since it's usually the only chance that the slytherins can't fowl their way to the house cup."

Angelina nodded.

"But the last match it seemed like there were a lot of Gryffindor fowls against Hufflepuff."

Angelina sniffed, "Yeah, there wasn't a good excuse for all that."

Parvati raised an eyebrow.

Angelina dropped her eyes.

"I mean, Ginny's animagus debut did distract everyone, but … that hardly excuses it, just gives you a second chance not to have that be the new normal."

Angelina nodded.

Parvati shrugged and squeezed Harry's hand.

He sighed, "Angelina, thank you for your help last night."

She looked up and frowned.

"Thank you from the Houses of Potter and Black."

Parvati nodded.

"And to the extent that I'm allowed to say so, from the mages of Great Britain as well."

Angelina's eyes widened, and then she chuckled, "fair enough. I won't say, 'you're welcome' I will say: 'I'm glad I could help.' "

Parvati nodded.

"And I'm glad he's dead."

"Dead again," said Harry, "there's a chance he won't stay down this time either."

"If it turns out to be another 14-year respite, it'd still have been worth this," she waved at her side.

"Agreed," said Harry, "and may all our future dark lords learn and prefer The Very English art of lobbying."

Angelina guffawed.

Though soon she was trying to control it because it shook her shoulder.

When she'd caught her breath she said, "Go away, you two, before you make me laugh again."

"Yes, captain," said Harry, and squeezed Parvati's hand.

They turned and went out.

.

"Damn," said Harry, "I could have told Wotcher to protect our side from magical exhaustion."

"What?" said Parvati.

"Oh… No, I couldn't," said Harry, "The manor had locked him out from just before the alarm until just after I 'captured' Margaid."

Parvati sighed.

"What?"

"Have you ever asked Wotcher what gender she is?"

"Who, Margaid?"

"No, Wotcher."

"Wotcher is a bunch of runed obelisks and a never-ending notebook for her to keep track of rules in."

"That doesn't keep her from preferring a gender."

Harry shrugged, "she didn't even use personal pronouns until I asked her to try to communicate in clearer English."

Parvati snorted.

"Fine," said Harry, "I'll ask."

.

When they entered Gryffindor, Neville glanced up at them, then the smile of his aborted greeting melted off his face and he jumped up and got in their way. Without saying a word he reached to Harry's throat and removed his tie, before holding it in one hand and casting a reversible colour change on it. When it was completely black he handed it back.

Harry looped it around his neck but didn't tie it. Neville followed that with similar treatment to the Gryffindor crest on his chest and the Potter and Black crests on his shoulder.

Neville wasn't in Hogwarts robes, but his pyjamas did not currently contain any colours except black and white.

"There," whispered Neville, "Now I can talk to you."

"Ernie?" said Harry.

Neville nodded.

"Good," said Harry.

"The Houses of Bones and Longbottom," said Neville, "Hermione is too; but is not mandating it to her house. So far only Draco, Theo, and Pansy are following her."

Parvati took off her tie and stuffed it in her pocket.

"And Rebekah, I think," said Parvati.

"Good," said Neville.

"One of you do my shoulder?" said Parvati.

Harry did.

They all sighed.

"Should I be wearing a belt crest tomorrow?" said Neville.

"I don't know," said Harry, then he whispered, "I had the vague plan to do so until I have a chance to confront some of the other likely suspects that weren't there."

Neville raised an angry eyebrow.

Harry shrugged. "I will not dictate," said Harry, "I'm willing to listen to advice if you have any."

"Wear it," said Neville, "and I will. Let it be the only colour on you."

"I understand," said Harry.

.

...-...

Monday (Tonks)

After the mirror call from Sirius, dictating dress code and 'Allowed' vs. 'Not allowed' talking points, Tonks was prepared for drama at breakfast, she wasn't prepared for it to start in the corridor with McGonagall drawing her wand at the sight of her.

Tonks deliberately held her open hands to the sides, "Do we have a problem Deputy Headmistress?"

"Not Lestrange," muttered McGonagall, and lowered her wand, "where did you get to?"

"The future Lady Black summoned me on an errand to the aid of our allies."

McGonagall blinked and seemed to finally notice the only touch of colour on her all-black robes.

"Which allies?" said McGonagall.

"The House of Potter," said Tonks.

"Oh," McGonagall relaxed, "how did that go?"

"We helped Harry round up about a hundred Death Eaters. He executed most of them for trespassing in His Manor. Well, several of them were already dead in the fighting."

McGonagall winced at the number.

"And the rest?"

"He changed their thrall marks to his own," said Tonks, "and either hired them to keep overseeing their previous duties or told them he wanted to never see them again."

"Merlin," said McGonagall.

"He didn't get you-know-who," said Tonks, "seems like one of his followers or one of the prisoners that Harry let out, got to him first."

"What?" said McGonagall, "That doesn't even…"

Tonks shrugged.

McGonagall sighed, "well, never mind that." She looked Tonks over again, "I understand why not pink hair today, but … would you mind going to blond, rather than black?"

Tonks raised an eyebrow.

"You look like Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I do not. I look like my mother," Tonks said, but at McGonagall's expression, she relented, "Yes, Deputy Headmistress, if you think it best."

"I definitely do," said McGonagall.

.

Professor Snape was the next to question her.

"Looking sharp today," he said, "What's the occasion?"

"Ernie Macmillan is dead," said Tonks, "We want the war to be ended properly this time, not quietly swept under the rug and forgotten."

Half the table away Dumbledore sighed.

"And what would that look like to you?" said Snape, in a much more subdued tone.

"I do not speak for Lord Black," said Tonks, "But I think we'd be satisfied with all of Lord Riddle's property confiscated by the ministry or distributed however most appropriate amongst his enemies. Leave nothing for him to return to, should he ever return."

"And how much does the House of Black stand to gain by such an arrangement?" said Flitwick.

Tonks shrugged, "They weren't exactly his enemies in the last war, I doubt we'd be handed custody of anything by society at large. But anything of his we capture in the process of vanquishing him, don't expect us to relinquish to Azkaban or an evidence locker somewhere for some stooge to retrieve when he's ready."

"Well said," whispered Snape.

"When you say property, you don't just mean … property."

"He had a lot of thralls," agreed Tonks.

Flitwick squealed.

"I'm surprised to hear you advocate slavery in this day in age," said Dumbledore.

"I'm not advocating enslaving anyone," said Tonks, "but given that there are thralls around, it would behove us to tailor our methods to take that fact into account."

"And do the Houses of Potter and Bones share in that assessment?"

Tonks looked, yes, someone had clued in Potter to wear black. But not his ravenclaw girls.

"I don't know," said Tonks, "I don't speak for Lord Potter any more than I speak for Lord Black."

Snape cleared his throat, "Which really only means, 'not until given a message to say.' "

"Perhaps," said Tonks.

.

The Prophet arrived, it had continued speculation about the Saturday night attack on the ministry, or rather the cover-up. (What was it about a government that existed to keep magic a secret, that made it extra prone to thinking it could also successfully keep secret anything else it desired?)

The quibbler arrived. Only Dumbledore and Flitwick took it. Though it was fairly obvious that the cover story was "Rotfang Conspiracy Loses a Tooth!"

"May I read that when you're done?" said Tonks.

"You've never shown interest in it before," said Flitwick.

"I can hardly understand it most of the time," said Tonks, "But I figured with a Rosetta stone of my own experience this time, I might make it farther."

"Oh," said Flitwick, "I suppose, welcome then."

Except on the third page, he dissolved into a fit of goblin invective and slid it over to her while he recovered himself and inhaled his breakfast.

Tonks read quickly so as to be ready to give it back by the time he put down his utensils.

The cover article was coded commentary, most of which she couldn't make out, except that the government was indicted for various kinds of negligence, incompetence, and maybe outright corruption. Meanwhile, dark lords must battle it out between themselves with the people of Great Britain as a playing field, because the law was not competent to restrain them. Etc.

The second article was a half-page article/opinion piece/review about (advertisement for?) some kind of enchanted cooking pot.

The third was a press release by the House of Potter thanking their allies for their service in the suppression of Voldemort (The so-called Dark Lord) and his ranks of violent and rebellious Death Eaters, etc. And that following a successful raid, Lord Potter had Heard a 'Class Action' Plea for Justice by the prisoners of the Death Eaters against the captured Death Eaters. and therefore had been much less lenient than he might have otherwise been expected to be, about their trespassing while being thralls of his enemy. Most of the trespassers had been executed, and about ten had been released or held for further questioning.

The names of the executed and enemy casualties were given, starting with 'Lord Tom Marvollo Riddle Jr., AKA Lord Voldemort'

And 'still wanted for questioning regarding possible connections to the rebellion or having knowledge regarding the crimes thereof' another list of about twenty names, starting with: Lord Malfoy, Igor Karkaroff, and Walden MacNair.

"Sweet Merlin," said Tonks, she tried to memorise the list.

The third list was the one she already knew by heart, Coalition casualties: Ernie McMillan, Heros Familia, Bellum Medicus.

Battle Healer, Clan Hero.

As she folded it up, she saw that the fourth article was regarding new knowledge on a rare magical creature, 'reprinted with permission,' from a MACUSA research journal.

She passed the periodical back to Flitwick.

She looked across, Dumbledore was sweating.

His face was still staring at his copy of the periodical, but his eyes were flicking about nervously as if drawing plans and connecting concepts that only he could see.

He seemed to feel her gaze and looked up.

"Harry wrote this?"

"It has Luna Lovegood's byline," said Tonks.

"But did he authorise it?"

"How should I know?" said Tonks.

Dumbledore sighed.

"But he killed all of these people?" said Flitwick.

"Or ordered them killed," said Tonks, "Yes. He released an imperious victim, a muggle, and a child whose father had her marked so that she'd be allowed into the base where he could keep an eye on her while he worked. Kept a bunch more for further questioning, just like it said."

"Merlin," said McGonagall. And took Dumbledore's copy to read for herself.

"Are you going to make the announcement, or shall I?" said McGonagall, "Should have managed it before The Quibbler, at least."

Dumbledore stood up as if slapped.

The hall quieted, "I regret to inform you," he said, "That Ernest Macmillan will … not be joining us for the remainder of the term. He … will be missed."

Dumbledore wandered away, one hand on his head, the other at his side, trailing the tip of his long hat on the floor.

"What the bloody hell was that?" said Vector.

McGonagall sighed.

"I think I'll be changing my robes before class," said Snape.

He was wearing his normal green robes.

"Huh?" someone said.

He turned to glare at Tonks, "Blond wouldn't do, black is a hufflepuff colour, is it not?"

Flitwick coughed.

"It seems a big difference from '50 points to Gryffindor for Exemplary Service'," Sprout was saying from farther down the table.

Flitwick coughed again.

"By itself, getting killed is Not Exemplary of anything," said Snape.

Flitwick didn't make a noise.

Snape stalked away.

.

When she called role, she called for McMillan by mistake.

There was hardly a pause before Harry stood up and called out "Absent but accounted for, Professor!" really really loud. He is wearing a belt crest!

That barely registered before he sat down again.

In the hush that followed, someone from the middle of the slytherin crowd could be heard whispering, "But why did Professor Snape give him points for skiving?"

Really? Snape? I knew he'd started wearing green instead of black since I graduated, but really, points to non-slytherins below 7th year? Even dead ones?

"Five points to Hufflepuff," said Tonks, "Malfoy?"

"Here, Professor," said Draco.

"Malone?"

"Here, Professor," said Roger.

.

When Harry called "Here, Professor,"

She said, "stay after class please."

"Yes! Professor."

.

She taught the lesson as planned, but intermittently she wondered if she could do better. Was after-battle debriefing a teachable moment? It was considered such for Aurors and hit wizards, but maybe for this age group, it was a cursed avenue of thought…

Maybe only for the upper years.

.

After class, she quizzed Harry about what he meant by wearing his belt crest, and whether he'd cleared that with Lord Black.

Yes, he did know what it meant, no he hadn't spoken to Lord Black about it. And he suspected that he shouldn't be wearing both belt crests even if he normally wore both shoulder crests.

.

By lunch, Padma had her tie and house crests darkened the same as the others. So had the rest of Houses Granger and Carmichael. And all of Hufflepuff. And the gryffindor quidditch team.

Only Harry and Neville and Pansy wore belt crests.

That was something at least.

.

...-...

Monday (Harry and Padma)

"Hey, Padma, Luna," said Harry, "how are you two holding up?"

"I'm still visible aren't I?" said Luna, not like it was an annoying thing magic was doing to her at the moment, but as if it was a thing she was doing to everyone, with magic, merely by existing in her current state of confidence.

"Fair enough," said Harry, "good for you."

Luna smiled, hugged him just long enough to plant a kiss on his cheek, then let go and skipped away before he could respond.

Padma sighed, "It's been weird."

"What has?"

"I killed some of those people," said Padma.

"Executed," said Harry, "Killed sounds like you're unsure whether it was murder or not."

Padma snorted, "That's not quite what I meant. It wasn't murder, but it was still killing. It might have been easier to be … 'objective' is the wrong word, it was easier to look at them as 'objects' when they were stunned and still and laying in the grass, and the people they tortured were all standing around looking on."

Harry nodded.

"I know that you said, you and Nim would have gotten to most of them eventually if I hadn't," Padma shrugged.

"Do you wish you had waited, and let me handle it?"

"Not exactly," said Padma, "I'm glad I didn't use lethal force in the battle. And did judge them individually from the records Wotcher had. I'm thankful that you've ratified my decisions after the fact. But no, mostly I'm glad that I'm the sort of person who not only judges some actions beyond the pale, but also acted on that judgement, at least when confronted with evidence that easy to get, and a stunned prisoner that easy to execute."

"Umm?"

"Half to a third of what is wrong in Ravenclaw is no one willing to confront anything, I'm not really the best at confronting things either, but if I'd neglected to do so even when the prisoners were asleep and could neither argue, nor fight back, nor gossip about me behind my back, I might have a much lower opinion of myself right about now."

"As long as you don't try to condemn any of our allies who didn't."

"Or were enough slower than I, or had less confidence in you … being willing to share responsibility."

"Or didn't have access to Wotcher's records," Harry shrugged, then nodded, "the bystander effect makes more sense when the people who know what they're doing are already rushing around doing it, and you've got to see where other help is still needed."

"What?"

"Someone once defined a 'hero' as someone who when faced with a crisis, is the fastest to overcome the bystander effect."

"I guess I'll have to look that up later," said Padma, "my point was, I'm happy to know … to have more accurate information about beyond what threshold I act that decisively. But still: I had to kill people to learn it, it would have been nice to learn it in a less extreme way."

...-...

Tuesday

"What's that?" said Ron.

"Letter from the Malfoys," said Harry.

Ron narrowed his eyes, "He wants you to visit this summer?"

"He reminds me that after all the deaths recently perhaps it behoves us to have a list ready of nominations for what houses to elevate to the Wizengamot before the meeting next week."

"Ah!" said Ron, "How … are you keeping them in the dark about your politics being completely different than theirs?"

"I'm not," said Harry, "but they don't have a lot of choices, the Boy-Who-Lived is their current best hope against an entirely unopposed majority led by Dumbledore."

Ron blinked, "Well, sure, but, … You don't oppose Dumbledore, do you?"

"I don't follow blindly," said Harry, "He's got some good ideas, but he also is … old."

"He's not out of touch," said Ron.

"No," said Harry, "But he's … uncreative, and doesn't listen to those he claims to represent, actually I think that about most of the Wizengamot."

"You've got a strategy?"

"My understanding is that we need to replace all the houses we wiped out in my front yard with new voters. I don't think we've wiped out so many that bringing in new houses in age order will induct Hermione, but I don't really know the statistics."

Ron frowned, "I don't know, it might, We wiped out like 14 houses. Which … probably about doubles how many have run into trouble since the tri-wizard tournament."

"And you just know that?" said Ginny.

"Neville was explaining it to me," said Ron, "said he and Justin are planning a trip to London next Hogsmeade weekend, to check records on who's eligible to take over the vacated seats, and which houses are eligible to take the place of extinct houses."

"Ah, I see," said Harry, "Maybe I should tag along."

Or pay them to prepare the same report for you.

"Don't you have your own portkey," said Ron, "And don't need to hire a seventh year to apparate you?"

"True," said Harry, "Hmm."

...-...

Wednesday

"Hey, Hey Potter!"

Harry turned to see one of the larger hufflepuffs bearing down on him.

"What can I do for you?"

"You killed my uncle!"

Parvati clutched his elbow really hard.

"I might have," said Harry.

"Are you denying it?"

"I'm denying having any idea of who you are, or the names of most of the Death Eaters that I executed, or had executed."

He took a step back, "You what?"

"They were trespassing," said Harry, "most of them in standard Death Eater masks and cloaked hoods. All of them had dark marks. Are you suggesting you wouldn't have done the same if it was your house being invaded?"

He hunched in on himself.

There were several moments of silence.

"I … still want satisfaction," he said.

"Agreed," said Harry, "Wooden practice straight-swords, Thursday after lunch, in the fencing arena."

He looked both bemused, and … vaguely relieved.

"What's your name by the way?" said Harry.

"Matthew Kettletoft," said Matthew Kettletoft.

"I'll see you there, Mr. Kettletoft," said Harry, and held out his hand.

Matthew Kettletoft shook it, gave Harry a searching look, and then turned and left.

Parvati let go of his elbow.

"Are you sure that was the best choice?" she said.

"No idea," said Harry, "If I'd offered something more deadly, he might be more likely to back down, and/or resent me. If I give him the chance to exert himself. Maybe it will help him burn off some emotions."

"That's not quite what I meant," said Parvati.

"If I were to fight him wand to wand," whispered Harry, "I cannot guarantee right now that I wouldn't lose track of context and kill him," said Harry, "I hope that armed with only wooden swords, I won't be able to lose track."

Parvati sighed, "That's a valid concern also."

.

...-...

Thursday

"Potter," growled Professor Snape, "Five points from gryffindor for being out of uniform."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said dully.

"And you're working alone today," he said as he turned to stalk away, "as we seem to have an absence."

Harry froze, for two centring breaths, then redirected to an empty station. He glanced around, he was glad Ron was already busy with Millicent and hadn't noticed, otherwise, they might have lost more points.

He set up and did cauldron prep and flipped to the recipe that he estimated they'd be brewing today.

More students trickled in and Blaise sat next to him.

"Professor Snape told me to work alone," said Harry, "Citing 'Ernie's absence.' "

"They've all gone daft," said Blaise.

Harry shrugged, "Professor Snape is the one I'd least expect to go daft."

"Touche," said Blaise.

Blaise continued getting his things out.

"Should I take it you're not leaving?" said Harry.

"I can if you want," said Blaise, "but I have it on good authority that Pansy is in the infirmary for attacking Adrian Pucey."

"Whatever for?"

"He insulted her body art one too many times," scoffed Blaise, "he said no matter how much of her left arm she covers in waves and spirals, she'll never achieve the simplicity of style and power of the dark mark. Idiot. Anyone knows henna is a calming agent, a girl starts openly adding more to her design every morning, is advertising that she's stressed."

"A plea for help?" said Harry.

Blaise shrugged, "The colouration of a tree frog isn't a plea for help, it's a warning of danger."

"Touche," said Harry, "How bad were they each hurt?"

"She's got a broken upper arm, wand side. He had a complex fracture to his femur, and that burn curse she nailed Johnson with last Sunday."

Harry blinked.

"I still can't figure out what book Pansy got that out of."

"Unless you saw Pansy hit Angelina with it, (in which case I want to know). I expect Pansy didn't get it from a book, I think she learned it from watching someone else hit Angelina with it."

"Oh," said Blaise, "Hmm, impressive." He shrugged and started checking, (and repeating) Harry's cauldron prep.

Well, that was only mildly insulting. Good safety conscientiousness though.

.

Hermione must have alerted Snape that Pansy wouldn't make it to class, and he commenced to call role.

When he got to the M's he didn't read only the last name like normal, He called, "Earnest Asclepius McMillan."

"Absent but accounted for," called back Susan.

Professor Snape nodded gravely, and said, "Two points to Hufflepuff."

Beside him, Blaise twitched.

When he read out, "Pansy Parkinson,"

Hermione said, "Absent but accounted for."

Professor Snape responded with, "three points from Slytherin."

"What just happened?" said Blaise.

"I'm fairly sure," murmured Harry, "That was two points to slytherin for having a really good reason to miss class, and five points from slytherin for causing that reason."

"Oh," said Blaise, "Then … what about 'Earnest Asclepius McMillan'?"

Harry almost told him, then realised that he wouldn't make it through that explanation without crying. Instead, he shrugged, "If you'd gotten here earlier you might have noticed a pattern about that too."

Blaise shrugged, and they waited patiently for Professor Snape to announce the day's potion project.

.

"I think I'd better stick mostly with ingredient prep today," said Harry, taking off his glove yet again to rub his eyes.

"No problem," said Blaise, "glasses prescription gone off?"

"Possibly," said Harry.

.

"Ah yes, McMillan's favourite," called Snape loudly in the midst of correcting Neville from making some 'huge' 'blunder'.

Harry realised that he'd forgotten not just the count, but also which of the dry herbs he was even measuring. He checked the bottle, Right. He glanced through the recipe for that. And lost track again. He checked the bottle. Right. He glanced through the recipe for that. And realised that he'd lost track again.

Snape is right behind me, isn't he?

Doesn't matter. My vision is greying out regardless.

Harry put the bottle and spoon down as carefully as he could manage, then sank to his knees quickly before he fell down.

Snape wasn't right behind him but arrived shortly.

Magic washed over him twice.

"Ten points, Potter, for showing up not in a fit state to be brewing."

Harry felt himself levitated into a side storeroom and heard the door sealed shut behind him.

Great … momentarily safe from everyone staring at me, but made a spectacle in front of everyone anyway.

Harry concentrated on breathing deep enough and often enough to counteract whatever this was causing him to feel faint.

He found he wasn't frightened at all anymore, and with every breath, he seemed to be getting angry instead.

He climbed to his feet and looked around.

He knew this cupboard. Out-of-date ingredients. He'd been tasked with 'going through and sorting which ingredients were salvageable by careful sorting and which were to be discarded, and his evidence of why.'

He'd long suspected that none of them ever got discarded, just Snape would read through his notes, compare them to the ingredient in question, and tell him where he was wrong.

That turned out to be the tame version of the detention. Then he'd gotten the worse variation: He'd been set to sorting a big jar of volatile and toxic dried beetle carcasses between usable and unusable. And when he was done, Snape had told him how poorly he'd done, how many patients he'd managed to kill putting bad ingredients in the good pile, or how many galleons he'd wasted and how many patients he'd neglected to save by putting good ingredients in the bad pile.

Then he'd dumped both halves back into the big jar, with a threat that Harry could 'try again some other time.'

Sorting out bad ingredients from good ingredients. Depending on the ingredient, and whether something out of date was merely inert, like most of the mints. Or added actively harmful effects to the finished potion, like dried mushrooms that had managed to become damp enough for the spoors to start growing.

Or caused actively dangerous effects to the task of brewing… Lots of reptile parts.

Those, and the costs involved, of course, defined the limits on whether it was better to save all the good ingredients, or more important to make sure to discard all the bad.

Sorting out bad specimens from good specimens.

Sorting out bad death eaters from good death eaters.

Merlin!

Everyone had their opinion, and many had given it when he'd asked, and some without him asking.

But no one had helped him with the sorting, except Nim and Padma.

Nim hadn't helped with the sorting, she'd just taken the brunt of the gore out of his hands.

Padma probably resented him for letting a few go, Margaid Gaunt at the very minimum.

Harry resented Margaid Gaunt for managing to convince him to keep her around, both for drafting the legal reforms, that so far he had wanted. And for playing innocent enough that he'd let her have a mark.

Was that why Voldemort had been rumoured so brutal to his followers? Because they were always ticking him off, but he was barred from most punishments, that he could only make the most of it when they disobeyed far enough to be out of his protection?

No, there were as many variations on the thrall ceremony, as there were combinations of people and moods sufficient that a mark could form. Just because Harry's magic and mark wanted to be about protection, didn't mean the dark mark meant anything at all similar.

Maybe it was 'perfection' or 'communication' or something. He'd heard rumours about both of those.

Sorting out bad specimens from good specimens.

Ernie had been of the best. Better than Harry in some ways.

They said he died crouched over a death eater, closing a cut. Forgot to levitate them safely behind cover before he started.

Or he'd been demonstrating performative virtue, to get the others to surrender peacefully.

Which if true, had obviously failed.

Harry roared and punched a canister, shattering the glass of the door in front of it, and flinging the jar against the back so hard that it too cracked.

Follow-through is a beautiful thing.

He punched another.

They are just bad ingredients anyway, no one cares.

He punched about eight more and watched as the pickling solution … trickled down through the dried beetle parts and caught on fire. … That's nice.

So … probably it was a tincturing agent, not a pickling solution, some kind of strong alcohol. Then again which kind of beetle was that? Those who had tortured him before with their colours of decay masked behind their iridescent sheen?

Also, why can't I smell it?

He punched six more. Then held his hand in the gathering flame.

Dragon hide gloves shouldn't block heat this well.

He punched mostly dry herbs after that because they flared up with a nice whoosh as they spilt through the flame.

Then he used the freezing charm to dampen out the fire from the wood of the cupboard. There was no point in trying to put out the alcohol and beetle parts, they'd just spontaneously reignite again. The only thing to do was wait for the fuel to be used up.

He added some more dried mints. They were probably inert magically by now anyway, only fit for burning.

Really, I'm only protecting future students from needing to sort them.

And what didn't burn on its trip to the floor, helped wick up the alcohol so it could burn sooner.

The tail of his robes caught on fire, so he switched back to flame-freezing charms and thoroughly coated everything that looked worth salvaging, mostly just his clothes and the wood of the supply cupboards.

Rather than let the mess get completely out of hand when he started on the next cupboard: This one he opened and grabbed out the most offensive jars to chuck them overhand into the middle of the blaze.

A few were charmed unbreakable, and/or sealed, and just rolled clattering to the other end of the room.

That was almost as satisfying. Maybe more satisfying.

The few that were charmed unbreakable but not sealed were the ones he had to watch out for, they'd pop open rather than shatter, then spill their contents in a meandering trail across the room. He'd have to chase after and kick them back into the fire before the fire could spread farther than he wanted.

Jumping through a seeping alcohol fire while covered in flame freezers was also satisfying.

.

No one bothered him.

He'd burnt up all the crushed or ground dried herbs, that no one should ever have to sort anyway. He started on the ground-up insect parts.

Same same.

He turned around to throw another jar and found that the door was open and Professor Snape was leaning against the door frame staring at him.

Utterly neutral. Utterly bored.

Same as always.

Harry almost didn't throw the jar, then did anyway.

It shattered and flared beautifully.

Professor Snape did not react.

"Drop the occlumency for once damn you," said Harry.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, stepped inside and closed the door.

He took several minutes of wand waving to vanish the smoke that was building up all along the ceiling. The jerkiness of his wand motions belied an uncharacteristic vehemence.

When the air was mostly clear of haze he turned to Harry again.

"Is class over?" said Harry.

Professor Snape nodded.

"May I go?"

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow, "someone needs to watch until this fire is out."

Harry rolled his eyes, "It won't go out, alcohol and swamp beetles."

"Of course," said Professor Snape, "and all the mint you could find."

Harry shrugged.

Silence.

"How many of my classmates know how much glass I broke?"

"I put an imperturbable on the door."

That would make it waterproof — oh, also airproof, did that mean also soundproof? … of course, it would, as long as the charm was spread properly from frame to frame.

"That wasn't a locking charm?"

"No," said Professor Snape, "and there's a tracking charm on your top button, I didn't quite trust you to not notice the bubble-head charm and remove it for dramatic effect."

Harry blinked, "I noticed it, but didn't think to remove it. I added flame freezing to my clothes, well, the lower half of my clothes. That allowed me to be comfortably dramatic I guess."

Professor Snape nodded, "prudent, under the circumstances."

Harry sighed, "you did something to my gloves too?"

"You did something to your gloves," said Professor Snape.

Weak imperturbable as a method to clean and waterproof; always wore off before the next class because of dragon-hide, but mere habit by now after 3 years. Harry blinked, "Oh, right."

Professor Snape chose a different wall to lean against.

"Until the fire burns itself out?" said Harry.

Professor Snape nodded.

Harry conjured him an armchair. And then one for himself.

Professor Snape stared at them each.

Harry sat down.

Professor Snape skirted the fire to his side, and changed Harry's armchair into a couch, without Harry getting up.

OK. Maybe that wasn't impressive to a NEWT student, but it was above what I'd attempt in my current state.

Professor Snape sat down.

They were quiet for a long time.

"Ernest was a better person than me," said Harry.

Professor Snape was quiet for a long time, "Probably," he sighed finally.

Harry looked up.

Are you crying?

About Ernest, or about me? Certainly not about these particular potions ingredients.

Harry looked away.

"How long are you going to be calling his name during the role?" said Harry.

"How long are you going to be wearing your tie black?"

Harry shrugged. Maybe till the end of term, 30 days is a common mourning practice, right? The term is three days longer than that. Maybe … watch what Susan does. He shrugged again.

"Students should not need to fight wars," said Professor Snape.

"I know," said Harry, "I might not have taken anyone with me if I'd seen a winnable method without. Or if … the House of Granger hadn't needed a safe place to spend the summer."

Professor Snape turned to stare at him for a long time.

"Our casualties would have been higher without Ernie," said Harry, "not in lives. I mean, just several injuries. Maybe in lives also."

Professor Snape nodded.

"He chose a different group of responsibilities to concentrate on than either of us did," said Professor Snape.

"Yeah," sighed Harry.

Professor Snape reached over and pulled Harry away from the end of the couch, pulling him against his side and chest.

He wrapped his left arm across Harry's shoulders and down his chest.

His left arm was still covered in an invisible dragon-hide shield.

His hugs weren't like Hermione's or Ginny's or Parvati's. Maybe like Susan's if Susan was bigger than Harry, and for some reason had stopped being horny at all for several months.

Harry sighed. And relaxed. Another half of his occlumency dissolved.

And he cried.

.

Snape's hand slid along Harry's side.

Harry opened his eyes and sat up.

I just spent in excess of half an hour crying into Professor Snape's side. No one will ever believe me.

Harry sat up and scooted away. The fire was out except for a few lingering smoulders. And he was just beginning to be able to smell the smoke.

"You're the best Head of House," sighed Harry.

"I know," said Professor Snape, "you've missed lunch, but I hear you have another appointment soon."

Harry sighed, "Yeah, I do."

"Have you destroyed sufficient glassware that Mr. Kettletoft is likely to survive?"

"Probably," said Harry.

"I could lock you in until supper, and explain the situation to him if you're unsure."

Harry blinked, "I'm … not that unsure," said Harry.

"Good," said Professor Snape and stood, "I have things to prepare for my second-year pupils."

"Did all the borrowed dragon-hide aprons get returned?"

"All but four," said Professor Snape, "shall I bill you for them?"

Harry frowned, "best to wait through next weekend for more to reappear, but yes, I'm willing to pay for any that don't return, or are returned too damaged to use."

Professor Snape sneered.

Harry didn't know what else to say.

"Your detention is to request to borrow the Headmaster's wand, to cast the mending charm on all my glassware."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Why would he lend it to me?"

"Why indeed," said Professor Snape.

"Really?" said Harry.

"Tell him the first charm you intend to cast with it is the mending charm, I think it will please him."

"Oh," said Harry.

Nim, how do you feel about hiding near Dumbledore's gargoyle and keeping an ear out for the current password?

The idea of dropping in on Dumbledore uninvited seemed to really catch her fancy.

Professor Snape gave one more nod and swept out.

Harry made his way to the duelling arena.

.

It would be karma really, getting pounded numb two hours after destroying a bunch of glassware, and the disgusting teaching aids contained thereby.

Luckily Matthew Kettletoft took one look at the state of Harry's robes and suggested that they should wear quidditch pads. Unluckily the word had spread and most of the upper forms of the school were there to spectate.

Oddly Pansy walked in just before they started, not in school robes, but in a professional style duelling vest, skirt, and greeves over her boots.

It meant her arms were bare, though one arm was still in a sling. Which did nothing to hide an extensive chequerboard of the various patterns of the House of Granger. Closer to her wrist they were faded red-brown-green, by the time they got to her shoulder they were a darker black-brown, and about half of her other arm had the herbal paste of fresh henna still clinging to her skin.

"Hi Pansy," said Harry, "should you really be out of the hospital wing already?"

Pansy shrugged, "I'm here to be your second unless you've already got that covered."

"I hoped to have Padma do that, but … things came up and I think she isn't available."

"Why Padma," said Ginny, "Why not me?"

"Because," said Harry, "The point of a second is not to continue the duel should I fall, but bear witness that all the forms are followed, including trying to talk us both out of fighting."

"Exactly," said Pansy, "I can do that. Why are you fighting?"

"Because we're both angry at the state of the world," said Harry, "and sometimes repeatedly slamming my fists into a conjured punching bag isn't sufficient therapy, to bring me back to equilibrium."

Pansy rolled her eyes, "Yes, that is why duelling, in general, is permitted, why are you fighting with Kettletoft."

"Because he needs someone to beat up."

"But why you?" said Pansy, "Why not apologise and let him find someone else."

"What?"

"I heard," said Pansy, "that you didn't apologise, so I'm doing my duty, I'm asking if that is true, and if you'd like to try it again."

Harry looked at Kettletoft.

He looked somewhat taken aback by the exchange actually.

Probably most of the duels that took place here were friendly rivalries, the challenges were about sport, not about honour. By picking this venue, Harry might have inadvertently removed the wrong half of the seriousness of the proceedings.

If he could apologise to get out of it and let Kettletoft take his anger elsewhere, would he?

Harry growled, "I'm not sorry I executed some death eaters," he said, "I'm not sorry that I asked for help determining if any of them should be pardoned. And I'm not enough of a hypocrite to reprimand my allies for using potentially lethal charms and curses during the battle. Though to my knowledge they mainly used them to force their opponents to dodge more, rather than shield more."

He glanced up at Kettletoft, then sighed, "I am a little sorry that the responsibility to do so fell to me. And I'm more sorry, that there were any death eaters to start with. And incredibly angry at the entire previous three generations for ignoring problems until people thought that violence was the best way to solve them, and for leaving anyone in society so hopeless and desperate that they'd follow the likes of Voldemort into that violence."

Kettletoft stared at him wide-eyed for several seconds, then seemed to relax into a calmer expectation.

Harry sighed, "Mr. Kettletoft, I'm sorry that anyone in your family became embroiled in the Dumbledore-Riddle feud. All I've ever done is try to get my family out of it. I have nothing against your family. I'd really rather the rest of you live long and peaceful lives."

Kettletoft gave him a prolonged narrowed-eyed frown, then a smirk, then a nod.

"Apology accepted," said Kettletoft, "and you may call me Matthew."

Most of the spectators booed. They'd come to watch a fight.

"Thanks, Matthew," said Harry, "You may call me Harry. Outside of the Wizengamot chambers at least."

Matthew rolled his eyes.

Someone Harry didn't know whispered something in Matthew's ear.

Matthew rolled his eyes. Then glanced at Harry again, "So … you're still going to have to demonstrate what a 'punching bag' is."

"Oh, sure," said Harry, he looked around, "it's like a curse-target moppet, except for fist brawling. We really ought to have some anyway; though, I'm not sure where."

He chose a likely-looking corner, somewhere out of the way of the normal flow of traffic, also where the normal flow of traffic wouldn't block access to it, he chose the second closest corner to the door and conjured, first a large wooden frame and then the normal pads around that, just like the floor, to keep falls from becoming more dangerous than necessary. Then from the frame, he conjured a big bag for punching and kicking, then a smaller bag for boxing practice.

"This one is intended to be greater than the mass of a man so that you can practice exerting your strength," said Harry, "This one is intended to be somewhere in between the mass of a hand or foot, and that of a head. It's supposed to move away, bounce and swing back every time you hit it. To practice your attack, dodge, and block speed."

"And I suppose you know enough about brawling to be able to demonstrate?" called out someone with a nasal twang very like Draco's except even deeper.

"Sure," said Harry, "when you know you can hold your own against the local muggles in their own games as well as in ours, it lets one walk among them with a lot more confidence that you can handle anything you need to handle, without resorting to breaking the statute of secrecy. And a lot of them can smell confidence, and react appropriately, the same way a dog can smell fear or confidence. And that gives you a lot more options in other ways as well."

"Show us already," said Pansy.

"First routine," said Harry, "is like something for rapier: Precision punching. You want to demonstrate your form, and also your precision, and also your balance. I won't demonstrate 1000 punches because you'd all get bored, but here's twenty."

Harry started, alternating left and right. "The goal is that no one can see light between the bag and my hand, but the bag does not move."

Lots of derisive comments.

"Not much to look at," agreed Harry, "but … oops too much follow through right there, the bag moved … You have to understand that masters won't perform this technique with a bag but with a stone wall. The damage to oneself for not exerting perfect control is slightly higher that way."

Chuckles and disbelief.

Harry stopped and switched to a frontward leaning stance. He tried to estimate for the bag deflecting about two inches.

"Next is the same, except you're hoping to see the bag move, and usually it's a question of groups of fifty or a hundred, not a thousand. You still want to go fast, but you're working harder, so what counts as a sustainable speed is a bit different."

He started out and went for twenty punches. He didn't follow through in a way that would inspire anyone to learn to get off balance.

"Next is interspersing that with kicks. Or blocks. Blocks are important and like shield charms, there are lots of them, but I'm not teaching them today. There are also several kicks."

He demonstrated 40 punches with a different kick after each five. He intentionally made the bag move as much as he could.

Some of them must have gotten it because the crowd as a whole got quieter.

Then he moved to the small bag.

"This one is somewhat less about form and all about speed. Less about demonstrating or practising your ability to attack your opponent's body, and more about practising your ability to intercept their attacks. Of course, it's hardly the same size or shape as a fist, so perfect form at blocking is impossible. But usually just getting your fist in the way is better than letting the attack land, regardless of whether you also can attack a nerve cluster and numb their arm or foot while they have it within your range, which is the second priority in choosing blocks, first priority is, of course, keeping their attack from landing."

There were shouts of consternation.

Harry looked over the crowd, then nodded, "Yes, Just like sword and wand duelling, the bare-handed martial disciplines have sport versions, defence versions, and war versions. And whenever possible you should figure out what your opponent is capable of, and is expecting from you, as early as possible."

Rebekah cleared her throat, "alright Potter," she said, "I've been patient long enough, just how much do you know about swords?"

Harry shrugged, "I've been studying as much as I could, the last three summers, not that that amounted to as much time as I'd prefer."

She nodded, "but you haven't been furthering your studies here?"

"I've been busy with too many classes and their revising."

She shook her head, "and quidditch."

"And quidditch," Harry agreed.

"I know you don't have classes the rest of the day," she said, "I think it's time you show me what you've got."

Harry sighed, "alright," said Harry, "but fair warning, I've been concentrating on defence styles and war styles, not on sports styles."

"That figures," said Rebekah.

.

The next thing he knew he was trying desperately to hold his own against Rebekah while Pansy 'judged.'

At least everyone who wanted to watch a fight was getting a chance.

"Who did you say trained you?" Rebekah called out.

"A couple of muggles and three witches," said Harry.

"Anyone I know?" said Rebekah.

"Hermione was one of them."

"She said she learned from you."

"She learned technique and strategy from me," said Harry, "I learned a lot of creative tactics from her."

Rebekah and Pansy chuckled.

"And the other witches?"

"The defence Professor," said Harry.

"No way!"

"Way," said Harry.

"Who else?"

"That currently is privileged information for the allies of the Houses of Potter and Black."

"Do I know it?" said Hanna.

"No," said Harry, "But both Susan and Neville do, and they can tell you if they think you need to know."

"I don't … Oh Merlin!" said Neville.

He fought Rebekah to another standstill for a few seconds of a breather.

"So Neville, are you visiting Potter Manor this summer for sword classes?"

"Merlin," said Neville, "I'll … have to think about it."

"Pansy and I definitely are," said Rebekah.

"Merlin," said Harry.

...-...

Wand

"Cockroach clusters."

The Gargoyles leapt aside.

They rode the stairs up.

"Enter," called Dumbledore.

Wait, is that actually just the password to the door at the top of the stairs?

Obviously. Nim sneezed.

Harry grinned as he entered the office.

"Harry, my boy, to what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"

"Err, detention," said Harry, "Professor Snape ordered me to borrow your wand for mending his glassware."

Dumbledore shot him a confused and concerned look.

"I probably wasn't supposed to say it quite like that," said Harry, "But … yeah… Um, please may I borrow the good wand?"

Dumbledore sat back and raised an eyebrow "'mending Professor Snape's glassware'?"

"Grief therapy, he locked me in his expired ingredients store err. with several monitoring charms and a bubblehead charm on," said Harry.

Dumbledore stared in horror for several more seconds, then relaxed with a grin, "Ah, of course. Lily Evens and Violetta Black both found smashing crockery very therapeutic, though Violetta was more known for launching it at people's heads." His eyes narrowed as if to wince at the memory.

Harry shrugged, "it was helpful, I mostly punched jars until the combination of ingredients on the floor caught fire, then rather than … start more fires than that, I just tossed more jars at the fire." He shrugged again, "then when I'd calmed down, he made me sit and wait and keep watch while the fire burned itself out."

Dumbledore nodded in … satisfaction?

"So … may I borrow your wand to try to repair his things?"

Dumbledore gave him another considering stare.

"Please?"

Dumbledore stared another second, "Is this something you want, or something that Professor Snape is coercing?"

"Something I wanted, but did not expect to be able to do until Professor Snape implied that I'd probably manage with … the good wand."

"You know what it is?"

"A friendly little monkey warned me not to say its name more often than necessary."

Dumbledore nodded, "Understood. I find that it is almost always unnecessary. Yes, you may. Wait here a moment."

He went out by a different door, which Harry had never seen opened. He soon hurried back and handed over the wand that Harry had only held for about three minutes before. It still felt very very comfortable in his hand.

"Do tell me how it works out for you."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry, "Um? May I go?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.

.

All Professor Snape's jars and cupboard doors started to leap back together at the first incantation, and Harry found it rather easy to keep the spell going while spreading it around to the other glass shards. Until everything was set to rights, except of course that the jars were empty and the doors were opened and a few of the still-intact jars were in the far corners of the room with their lids still sealed on.

He tried summoning them over and hovering them back into their proper places, that worked much better than he'd have expected, not in the sense that he ever had trouble with hover charms anymore, nor in the sense of the drain of his magic was lower than usual, but rather the friction of his magic flowing into the wand seemed almost non-existent, also the friction … No, that wasn't the correct word, but he didn't have a much better one, the strain of maintaining his intention where his magic could see it and obey, that was also almost non-existent.

Less like using a wand, perhaps more like … a very cooperative familiar.

.

When everything was set to rights he went to Snape's office to report in.

He was busy, either tutoring or counselling an older slytherin.

He didn't look pleased to see Harry there, probably counselling then, "My detention is finished, Professor."

His eyebrow twitched but didn't rise, "and do you have anything else to say to me?"

"Sorry, for breaking your things."

Snape shook his head, "Try again."

"I am, sorry," said Harry.

"Maybe you are," said Snape, "that's not what I'm waiting to hear, nor is it that I'm the best Head of House, even though that is also true."

Harry grinned, then realised that Snape was very serious about … Oh.

"Thank you for … keeping me safe and … far enough away from your potions class to keep them safe."

Snape nodded, "Better. Will I be seeing you on Monday?"

"I … hope so," said Harry, "I'm not yet promising."

Snape nodded, "try to file appropriate paperwork if you decide it wise to miss."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry.

.

He returned to the administrative wing, Nim stalking along beside him, trying to convince him to either keep the wand or just take it home and lock it up.

"That might still be an option," said Harry, "But I think I want to hear Dumbledore's speech regarding it before I decide what to think."

.

Dumbledore's speech included basically nothing that he hadn't already inferred from several readings of Beadle the Bard and an article about The Deathstick's bloody path through history that Luna had left out on his desk a couple of months back.

Except, Dumbledore offered hope, perhaps deluded hope, but hope nonetheless, that the worst excesses of the wand and the worst fates of its wielders seemed to be tied to excessive hubris and violence. And if Harry continued to be as humble and caring as he normally was, there was an excellent chance that he'd live to a ripe old age, and someday pass it along to an equally peaceful soul.

As he had more than half expected, Dumbledore told him to keep it because it 'was Harry's wand now.'

What he wasn't expecting was permission and an invitation for Harry to use Albus' first name, (at least in private.)

Harry tried that out.

It was awkward.

Dumbledore, Albus, changed the subject back to the sensations Harry had described regarding using the wand. And from there to how the battle for Potter Manor had gone.

Harry left out large portions, given that he'd spent most of the battle fighting 'MacNair' in the dungeons, and he and Nim were still mostly hiding the fact that they could communicate farther than earshot and line-of-sight. And beyond that, most of what he knew of the battle was from reviewing Wotcher's memories of the events, which in turn had been retrieved after the fact from the Manor wards before they could be passed on to Harry.

"How did you come to kill so many?" said Albus.

"I suppose the first two I killed by letting the prisoners out while the guards still lay stunned on the floor."

Albus winced.

"Then MacNair was killed and proved not to be MacNair after all. Then a prisoner asked me for justice, but not against all of them, so … I asked all the prisoners to vote on the levels of guilt of each. I let a few go based on those votes, and on various extenuating circumstances, or based on those votes, set a few aside to consider more thoroughly later. Then I executed or ordered executed the remainder."

"And how do you feel about that?"

Harry shrugged, "I'm of two minds about it, if they'd been killed during the previous war, or shortly after, I wouldn't have needed to do that last week. And yet, if everyone had been that much more aggressive back then, perhaps Lord Black would also have been executed. And Professor Snape."

"True," said Albus.

"On the other hand," said Harry, "I found one that was under the imperious and let him go. And another that had been intermittently under it, but after further investigation, decided to kill her anyway."

"Who?"

"The zoo warden," said Harry, "I'm not sure I ever heard her name. The only names I knew when I let them go were …" Harry frowned, "I don't think I need to say that. Ought to go under medical privacy or something, being a surviving victim of that sort of coercion."

"Ah," said Albus.

"And yeah, I get … the implications that there's a possible logical inconsistency with letting imperious victims go … and still punishing those who were coerced or led astray by other means. Mr. Riddle is, was known to be a master manipulator."

Albus frowned, "That is very true. And while you and I may disagree on how that balancing act ought to be managed, I am proud of you for noticing it."

"Thank you, sir," said Harry. Then he sighed, "there were some others, I was going to turn over several to the ministry, for them to sort out, but someone pointed out that while I could execute for trespass, I couldn't press charges for it in a way that would ensure that the ministry would try them for any of the other things we might be relatively confident they were guilty of, nor for having a thrall mark." Harry shrugged, "So the remainder I … basically I extracted parole and let go."

"Ah," Albus nodded, "And you don't fear they will aid Voldemort when he next rises?"

"What?"

Albus sighed, and glanced around the room, then finally said, "I hoped to spare you this knowledge for as long as possible, but, you've faced him four times, and you now hold The Elder Wand's loyalty, you might as well hear it."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"There was a prophecy," said Albus.

"Concerning how many times he comes back?"

Albus shrugged, "Says that in the end one of you will kill the other because neither can live while the other survives."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "mentions me?"

"Not by name, but it gives something that is easy to interpret as your birthday."

"Ah," said Harry, "and the fact that depending on how you count, of the four times I've 'faced him' I've killed him 3 times, but this last time, it wasn't me who killed him, but one of his own minions after a bit of a chase by me and some … softening up by an independent contractor of Greyback."

Albus frowned, "that increases my expectation that he's coming back again."

"Rumour is that there's only one horcrux left," said Harry.

Albus flinched hard, "What do you know about them?"

"That such things make the House of Black angry, rather than … shall we say, amused or irritated or envious? That one of the prisoners claims to be able to clean them without damaging them, that she and Moody think she's already cleansed all but one."

"Who?"

Harry leaned forward and stared at Albus.

"Alright," said Albus, "Start with, which one remains?"

"Ravenclaw's diadem."

Albus's eyebrows flew up, envy, then rage, then depression. A long pause, then hope, "you said they could be cleansed?"

Harry nodded, "she claims she could clean the others by being smarter, and more stubborn, or more correct, than them. But I'm not as certain that she can win a mental battle-of-wits-and-wills with a piece of soul that's been living in Ravenclaw's diadem for several decades."

Albus nodded, "who is she?"

"You know my Aunt Margaid Gaunt," said Harry, "Daughter of Lady Nagini Gaunt."

Albus frowned, "Daughter?"

"I think, she's been under an ageing potion when she's been to the Wizengamot," said Harry, "The point is the Gaunts were known to ..."

Albus stared at him for several seconds, then sighed, "—were known to practice incest."

"Yes, but worse," said Harry, "In theory, I don't have a problem with non-reproductive consensual incest as a pleasurable pastime. I do have very serious problems with it whenever it is forced or used as an intended breeding strategy. … And their tradition seems to be forcing their daughters to practice incest, just to keep at least one maledicti in every generation. Some generations by indoctrination about blood purity, by which they didn't mean to exclude those with muggle ancestry, they meant to exclude non-Parselmouths. Other generations, merely by forced isolation from the rest of the world.

"Tom freed Lady Nagini Gaunt from that, gaining her eternal gratitude or something. And she eventually had four children with a muggle she fell in love with."

Albus raised an eyebrow, "And?"

"But alone and in hiding, she also raised another daughter, perhaps by her younger twin Tom Riddle, at any rate by a close enough relative that Margaid looks to me like a younger sister more than like her daughter."

Albus nodded, "What do you plan to do about all that?"

Harry sighed, "Margaid was so excited to be freed from her 'uncle' Tom's influence, that she … demanded the freedom of a thrall mark before her mother could talk sense into her."

Albus frowned, "What?"

"Stockholm syndrome, basically. Perhaps the same as Nagini felt for Tom so many years ago."

Albus sighed and rolled his eyes, "Yeah, that's been known to happen, and how did you answer that demand?"

Harry flinched, "I patted her on the head."

They stared at each other, and then Albus flinched, "Lady Gaunt's tall hot-headed proxy?"

"Yes, though at that moment she wasn't under the ageing potion."

Albus shrugged, "So, not so 'hot headed' as 'young and inexperienced?' And trying to hold her own?"

Harry nodded, "and under pressure from Mr. Riddle to conform and succeed. I'm not clear whether … without Tom's directions, if she'll continue as Nagini's proxy, and if so, how active she'll be. Or if as my war-thrall, she'll be immune to Nagini's directions."

Albus shook his head, "how closely have you studied the proxy oaths?"

"Not … recently," said Harry.

"Assuming she's taken them and wasn't coerced into taking them, she can't get out of it without Lady Gaunt's release."

"Oh," said Harry.

"You can no doubt make her life extremely miserable by giving her orders that contradict Lady Gaunt's directions."

"Oh dear," moaned Harry, "Yet another reason I'll have to keep in touch with my Grandmother-in-law."

Albus rolled his eyes.

Harry stared, "I don't suppose you have advice on dealing with in-laws?"

Albus rolled his eyes again, "my in-laws were significantly less liaise-fare than Sylphadie and Lady Gaunt are reputed to be. And I had to give up my hopes for romance for other reasons. I can only wish for you patience and luck."

"Ugh," said Harry, "well thanks for that at least."

"Though, I suppose as a reluctant old bachelor, it might be my duty to remind you at least once, that until the wedding, there's still time to call it off."

"No," said Harry, "I don't think so."

Albus shrugged, "I understand. I won't bring it up again."

"Is there anything else we need to discuss?"

"Hmm, Ah, yes there is," said Albus, "You're already on your second year of Survey of Magical Law,"

"Yes?" said Harry.

"But it's an entire year before you'd normally be eligible to start the Ministry Page Program."

Harry raised an eyebrow and pulled the brass pendant from under his shirt.

Albus stared at it for several seconds in mingled surprise and horror, then dawning realisation, "Oh, is that how you smuggled forty students outside the wards with no one the wiser?"

Harry smiled.

"Fine then," said Albus, "well regardless of that, how would you feel about being my Teacher's Assistant next year?"

Harry shrugged, "Tell me about the rights and responsibilities of that position?"

"Help the others with their homework," said Albus.

"I already do that a little," said Harry.

"You'd be allowed to bill the school hourly for doing so."

"We're talking a sickle-an-hour sort of rate?" said Harry.

Albus nodded, "Half that, it's a position for a student, not an adult."

Harry nodded, "still more than I'm making doing what I'm doing."

"Exactly," said Albus, "you'd have to tutor whoever showed up to your office hours, not just your friends."

Harry shrugged, "I … think I have more problem with the office hours part of that than the 'not just my friends' part."

Albus shrugged, "Well think about it. The other thing you'd get is an all-access pass to the restricted section."

"So I'd be guaranteed something interesting to read while I sit forever waiting for someone to show up and quiz me about magical law."

Albus nodded, "That's one way to look at it."

"Hmm," said Harry, "I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask," said Albus, "I think there's only one more thing to discuss: Unless you'd rather take it up directly with Minerva."

"Oh? What's that?" said Harry.

"Are you really intending to drop quidditch next year?"

Harry sighed, "I have strong feelings both ways, what do you have to say on the subject?"

Albus closed his mouth and stared at the ceiling for several seconds, "that is the opposite kind of ambivalence from what rumour has been reporting about you."

"Ah," said Harry, "I normally advise people not to trust rumours about me, but … what's it to you?"

"The quidditch program is one of many programs that Hogwarts prides itself at being top in the nation."

Harry nodded.

"We only want motivated captains and players," said Albus, "an insufficiently motivated player, merely drags down his team, he doesn't truly block his fellow players from shining, not to the practised eye of professional recruiters. But an insufficiently motivated captain ruins the game for everyone, not just his own team, but eventually the other teams as well."

"I can see how that could be," agreed Harry.

"You were only barely not picked for captain this year," said Albus, "and this year you've been witnessed cross-training for every other position. Which is not the normal skill-building process for someone planning to play professionally. Giving up time to improve your best skill like that."

Harry shrugged.

Albus leaned forward, "but exactly the sort of thing that many players over the decades have tried out directly before giving up playing, in order to go into coaching."

"Oh," said Harry.

"So," said Albus, "just how badly do you want to captain the quidditch team next year, that you seem on the verge of giving up improving your playing in order to gain an understanding of team coordination?"

"Merlin!" said Harry.

"Well?"

"I wasn't trying to … learn how to be captain," said Harry, "I was trying to study cooperation or coordination. Like you said. But it was … more about being able to run a House soon, not directly about running a quidditch team."

"Ah," said Albus, "and would you like the chance to continue studying that next year? Or should I tell Minerva that you've already chosen to prioritise other studies, and teamwork in quidditch isn't an elective that you're interested in?"

"How soon do you need to know by?"

"Hmm?" said Albus, "Minerva tells me that you've got a bad habit of changing your desired course load about six weeks into the summer."

"You could call it that, I suppose," said Harry.

"It would make her job a lot easier if you'd try to keep requests like that at most three weeks into the summer."

"Oh," said Harry, "Fine. Fair enough. Do I owe her a letter of apology?"

Albus raised an eyebrow, "perhaps, perhaps not. But if you do … consider including a bottle of Ogden's Finest…"

"Ah, thanks for the tip," said Harry.

"Unless you can figure out where to procure Edradour."

"I've never heard of it," said Harry.

"Neither has anyone else," said Dumbledore, "But she brings in a bottle or two every year, and usually only switches back to Ogden's when she runs out."

"Ah," said Harry, "interesting."

Albus nodded and gave him a significant look.

"Hmm," he said, "I think that's all I have for you, Harry wand-bearer. Now you need to get back out there and be 'Mr. Potter studying for his OWLs,' and I need to get back to being, 'Headmaster Dumbledore'."

Harry sighed and nodded, "Yes, Headmaster." And made his way downstairs.

.

"What the hell happened to you?" said Tracy.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"You look like … You look like Crabbe after he got his last letter from his Mum."

Now everyone at the House of Granger table was looking across at him.

Harry sighed, "I just had the weirdest conversation with the Headmaster, has anyone heard anything about him retiring?"

No one answered.

"Then it was probably just something else," said Harry, "probably he's just looking forward to summer hols the same way the rest of us do."

"Retiring?" said Draco, "really?"

"He asked me some questions about next year, so … I don't think Hogwarts is what he's thinking about retiring from, but yeah, it was a weird conversation."

"From the Wizengamot?" said Draco.

Harry shook his head, "Less like, 'goodbye, oh, and you won't see me here next year,' more like, 'well I'm off to the grey havens, look me up when you get bored with normal things and get around to visiting me there.' "

"Where are the grey havens?" said Draco.

"By Vairë the Weaver," said Tracy, "what kind of uneducated barbarian are you?"

Draco rolled his eyes, "Excuse me?"

"OK, Tracy," said Hermione, "you just earned a week. Use it … wisely."

"A week of what?" muttered Ginny.

"Picking the evening's entertainments," said Theo, "I take it we need to educate Draco about the history of middle earth."

"That is not doable in a week," said Tracy.

"No, but we could read him the first three chapters of the Silmarillion then skip to the fellowship, and he can go back for Elven history if he really feels like it."

Harry looked away and found Draco staring at him.

"Parts of it are fun," said Harry, "most of it is boring. I apologise in advance how racist it is against spiders and dragons."

Draco blinked three times, "should we back up to … what the hell everyone is talking about?"

"A series of … let's call it 5 books," said Harry, "the oldest history is … written for NEWT students, the next one is written for children, about a muggle, at least he thought he was a muggle, being dragged along on a quest to kill a dragon, which does happen in the background, but our hero mainly concentrates on staying alive and keeping the dwarves (which actually means goblins) who kidnapped him from fighting with all the humans and elves they come across."

"It was set before the high elves were vanquished?"

Harry nodded.

"Ugh," said Draco, "and the goblins do manage to kill their dragon and get their vaults back?"

"Yes," said Harry, "Which in the end takes a coalition of more than just the dwarves (which still actually means goblins), to vanquish the goblins which actually means cave elves and mountain elves, not to be confused with the allies which are men and elves, which actually means muggles and mages."

"Got it," said Draco, "muggle gets kidnapped to help some goblins with their dragon infestation, and are useless for goblin things, but save the day with the diplomacy that the goblins lack."

"Exactly," said Harry, "and comes home with lots of mercenary pay, lots of contacts throughout the world, including several nations of elves, which means mages. And an unusual magic ring. Which will matter a lot in the next three books."

Draco nodded, "and it … let me guess … protects you from death?"

"Protects you from old age," said Harry, "But also makes you invisible."

"That sounds familiar," said Draco, "have you ever heard of The Brothers Three?"

"Yes," said Harry, "Unfortunately the ring isn't like the cloak, in that it wasn't made by death it was made by you-know-who, and whisperers his name whenever you put it on."

"Yeah," said Draco, "That's not going to end well."

"Exactly," said Harry, "Now you know everything you need to know to start with the Fellowship of the Ring, and skip all but one acromantula."

"Except maybe I'm mainly interested in the diplomacy?"

Harry shrugged, "Then read the Silmarillion, and feel free not to tell me all about it."

Draco's eyes widened.

"It is magically boring," said Harry, "for a book as small as it is."

Tracy and Hermione harrumphed.

Draco gave a slow nod.

"And I intermittently read law books for fun."

Draco and Theo snickered.

"And what were you saying about grey havens?"

Harry frowned, "Not sure I can summarise that. Maybe … It's a mage-only island, but most of the heroes that survived dealing directly with the ring were eventually invited to live there regardless of not being the correct race."

"Why?" said Draco, "That's obviously going to end horribly?"

Harry shrugged, "because for other reasons all the mages decided that they were going to leave the rest of the planet for muggles and goblins, and knew that leaving behind anyone that was now immune to old age would be even worse than taking them with."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Fine, whatever. So the Headmaster has a lot on his mind with hosting the Ministry proctors for OWLs and NEWTs, and probably has to be seeing the ICW about something before he plans to see you again at the Wizengamot?"

Harry shrugged, "probably."

.

...-...

{End Chapter 36}