Chapter 6

Slowly, Harry had been digging into the pensieve left him by the Rothschild family. Most of the memories stored had little importance, and it seemed as though Alan Rothschild (the one whose memories were stored) had liked to revisit times of good cheer. There were many memories of family events, and in the process of the viewing, Harry came to know a great many of the Rothschild family. It was an odd feeling, knowing the family as he did when they did not, and never would, know him. The pensieve granted a small taste of what a real family would have been like, and the teen was glad to know that his new family was shaping up right.

As Harry viewed the memories he removed, bottled, and labeled them. It was several weeks after he began that the memories began to differ. Alan was a private researcher of little means. His specialties lay in runes and Arithmancy and he sought his fortune through spell-creation. It was a difficult path. The actual creation process was incredibly tedious, and one had to be incredibly creative to come up with a spell which did not already exist in some capacity. Additionally, because there was no such thing as copyright on invented spells, one usually had to come up with enough new spells to justify authoring a new spellbook which would then be put up for sale.

Alan had the misfortune of being enamored with wards. Due to their being very specifically focused on defense, the field of ward crafting had largely become stale. There were only so many ways to conceal, protect and hide a location. The static nature of wards was considered their main identifier. Alan had tried for years to make wards that could shift without success and Harry came to commiserate with the poor inventor as he viewed yet another failure in this endeavor. Bottling and labeling the most recent memory, Harry looked at the time and determined he could view another before meeting Remus and Sirius for breakfast.

Dipping his head back into the swirling mist, Harry immediately encountered Alan alone in his laboratory. The spellcrafter spoke to himself.

"The main difficulty in creating a non-static ward is that the energy sources a ward is tied to vary as it travels. The fluctuations in the power source cause the ward's runic structure to break down and become unstable leading to its collapse. While brainstorming a solution to this problem, I doodled a runic shape as I am wont to do. The design I absentmindedly drew was different in many ways than a standard rune, based on the more complex number four rather than three, but I believe that I may be able to modify this rune to even out power fluctuations, like a voltage regulator. If it is possible, this could lead to an entirely new world of runic possibilities.

"I shall have to look into it further. "

During the time he was speaking, Alan had been hunched over his work desk, the four-sided rune scrawled out several times before him. As the memory ended, Harry quickly drew the rune himself and vowed to get Remus' opinion on the matter. As he bottled and labeled the memory, Harry absentmindedly wondered if Alan's rune had brought him any success. Based on the contents of the Rothschild vault, Harry did not think they had.

Alan Rothschild's doodle quickly became an obsession for the erudite werewolf. Arithmancy and Runes had been Remus' passion – having not been as powerful a caster as either James or Sirius – and he applied everything he had learned over his many years to the new idea. Unfortunately, none of Alan's other stored memories expounded on the topic at all, or indeed ever mentioned any failure or success of the idea. Harry felt that it might be a dead end, but Remus was convinced that there lay something in the rune. Harry capitalized on Remus' fascination to grow his own knowledge of and competence in the subjects of Arithmancy and Runes. Whilst rarely able to contribute anything of substantial value to Remus' musings, he came to understand and love the mathematical principals behind the subjects.

Now that the pensieve was emptied of memories, which were all stored, labeled and bottled, Harry found another use for it. He often found himself sitting through Hogwarts lessons that his two mentors had attended some twenty years previous. There were downsides, of course. Neither Remus nor Sirius were altogether fond of joining Harry in these reminisces and due to this Harry was often unable to ask questions in relation to a specific lecture or lesson. However, attending many of the pertinent classes virtually through the pensieve further worked to bring Harry up to speed with his age group. The memories also gave Harry a very real feel for what Hogwarts was like – and he was not left disappointed.

It was clear in the memories that Hogwarts had a very knowledgeable and professional teaching staff. The competition-focused environment encouraged all students to better themselves rather than depending on the teachers to force students to do so. The idea of monthly competitions based on age and skill level appealed to the teen who sought self-validation. Additionally, the castle itself was everything a young boy could have imagined a magical castle to be. Hidden rooms and passages, as well as magic's ability to completely ignore geometry, made Hogwarts undoubtedly the most interesting structure in Britain. It was a structure that Harry was able to explore through the memories of Sirius and Remus and feel connected to the old Marauder group.

Harry, in turn, shared his own memories with his mentors. Some were of good times, some were of bad, but all worked to bring the three closer into a familial relationship. Remus and Sirius were not always pleased to learn of Harry's past, but both learned to accept it and move on as Harry himself had. Each promised that his future would be better.


Christmas was rapidly approaching, and that meant end of term exams. Hermione, much to the amusement of her two partners in crime, had developed study schedules for each, as she always had, and was generally in a state of worry.

"I simply do not understand the fuss, Hermione." Blaise spoke with a calmness that the muggleborn witch envied. During this time of the year she was never calm. She was more aware of that now than she had been in the past, and had come to be able to temper her natural reaction to exams.

"Blaise, these exams could very well determine our eligibility for the seventh year available classes – I must pass them all." There were other reasons as well. She could all too easily remember days gone by where her test scores were all she had to validate herself. She could not make friends, she was an outcast, but at least she could tell herself she was smarter. She no longer had those problems, Blaise and Padma made great friends, but her eagerness to prove herself in the taking of examinations had remained.

Blaise and Padma shared a look as Hermione bent down over her text once more. Each had guessed the reason for Hermione's single-mindedness years before.

"Hermione," Padma began, "You will do just fine. Better than fine, I'm sure. You're already top of the class in Latin, History, Charms and Runes. And frankly, you're in the top five for most of your other subjects."

Hermione sighed. She knew her friends were right, but that did not make it any easier to step away from the books.

"Look," Blaise started up again. "We'll stay with you here in the Library, but let's look into something other than schoolwork. You, and we, know it like the back of our hands anyway."

Hermione acquiesced and with effort, closed her book. "That sounds reasonable, what shall we study?"

Padma held her hands up in a 'stop' gesture. "Please Hermione, this will be research, not study." She said it with a teasing smile, and Hermione let a small smile come through.

"Fine then – what shall we research?"


Christmas. A day that until this year filled Harry with sadness, and occasionally, rage. The Barton's abuses had always been the worst on that day, which should have been one of celebration. For Harry, it had always been a day of neglect and thanklessness. Now that he had seen the memories of his first Christmas, it was decided that he would turn this day around. He would start with this year. Remus and Sirius were both in agreement.

Vernon and Petunia were terrible savers and constantly fought to 'keep up with the Joneses.' They consistently lived on credit and relied on Vernon's Christmas bonus to be able to pay off their holiday spending. The bonus always arrived on the business day after Boxing Day, and Harry knew this because the Barton's were always calling up various creditors on that day to make lump-sum payments. Harry, and his new comrades-in-arms, were going to make sure the Barton's hurt where it would be worst, their pocketbooks.

It was a Friday morning, the day after Boxing Day, and snowing in England, which was an unusual occurrence at that time of year. Despite the chill, Sirius was sweltering in his newly obese form. He and Remus had drawn straws, he had lost. Harry and Sirius were sitting in an exact model of Vernon's BMW, Remus was serving lookout at the Barton's house. It was not enough to merely steal the money the Barton's so badly needed, Harry felt the need to introduce something else into that "perfect" family dynamic his aunt and uncle always claimed he ruined: strife.

Suddenly, a silvery mist shot into the back seat of the car and coalesced into the form of a wolf. "He has left the house," the voice came through as though an echo.

Harry and "Vernon" looked at each other and smiled. "Vernon" put the BMW into drive and drove a mile down the street to the local Barclays. Parking the car, he exited the vehicle and stepped into the local branch. Ten minutes later he exited holding a small envelope. As he approached the car, Harry exited the vehicle looking nothing like himself. Instead, he looked for all intents and purposes a slimy businessman with a sleek suit and shoes.

Sirius handed him the envelope, and Harry handed Sirius a small plastic bag filled with a white powdery substance. Transaction made, "Vernon" got back into his car and drove off. Harry walked to a nearby alleyway, conveniently out of vision of any cameras and apparated home. Sirius and Remus joined him there mere minutes later.


Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat at the place of honor, as was customary for the decorated wizard. The Lord Townsend sat to his left and was the host for the gathering of the Progressive faction. Their largely pro-muggle views sat them at odds with those of the Social Conservative faction and to the left of the neutrals and their laissez-faire ideology. It was an interesting group, and all knew each other well. Their numbers were down in recent years, but each was confident in the party's future.

"It is an interesting point you make, Ethan," Dumbledore nodded to Lord Collingsworth. "But, I cannot believe that Marius would have nominated anyone from the House of Greengrass as his successor. While of pureblood stock, that particular House's reputation is anathema to the type of reputation Marius wished for the Blacks."

"Dumbledore," Augusta Longbottom cut in, "we've been through the tapestries. The only families able to inherit would be the Greengrasses and Bellocks. Surely, Marius would not have passed the Lordship to Ferrell."

"I concur," Dumbledore immediately returned. "However, I feel that you may not have looked back far enough. Several other families are eligible inheritors if we assume another generation back. The Malfoys, for one. Marius was quite close with Scorpius."

"Impossible," Ethan Collingsworth cut in, "Lucius is sly, but he would not be able to contain that news. He is too visible."

"I agree with Ethan, Dumbledore," spoke Lord Aaron Diggory. Agreement also rained in from Lords Trigg and Bath.

Jonathan Primm offered his own thought. "If we are looking back to that generation, then we'd also have to consider the Frye and Galen families."

As others shook their heads to disagree Dumbledore thought the time right for the idea he had planned to insert into the conversation the entire night. "Or, the Potters."

Silence met his assertion. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled brighter with the knowledge he had not lost his touch.

"How could he have -?" The question came from an incredulous Lord Trigg.

"We know he made contact with the goblins," Dumbledore spoke authoritatively. "They could very well have made him aware of the possibility, granting that it was a possibility."

"That is quite the assumption to make, Dumbledore!" Aaron Diggory spoke again. The Potter's were far removed from the Black's ideologically, if not hereditarily. It is impossible to conceive that Marius would have left the Potter family the title."

"Actually," Elon Bath spoke, "it may not be quite the leap you think, Aaron. Was not Sirius made the Potter boy's godfather?" Augusta Longbottom confirmed he had been and Lord Bath continued. "Then perhaps Harry Potter is the ideal candidate. In fact, if we assume that young Sirius Black still held the title until his recent demise, then it logically follows that the young Potter boy could have claimed the Lordship only recently."

"That would put two Lordships into the hands of a child who has no idea about our world. It is unfathomable." Catherine Brown spoke quietly, but her voice carried throughout the hall. "Each line so storied, and with vastly different histories. He would be a lamb to slaughter."

"His influence is already vast due simply to who he is," Lord Collingsworth offered. "He would be courted by all for the two votes he would have in the Wizengamot. We must be the first to make inroads."

Agreement echoed around the table. Dumbledore smiled. Now that he had the support of his fellow Progressive Lords, he would be able to bring more resources to bear in the search for the young Potter. While it was unlikely Harry Potter held the dual-Lordship, the boy was rapidly becoming more interesting to the Supreme Mugwump.

"Now that that bit of humdrum is finished, let us talk about…" Augusta Longbottom informed them all of her current cause du jour, educational resources for muggleborns who had to have been re-homed to the wizarding world.


"What the fuck do you mean it was withdrawn already?" The anger in the large man's voice caused several patrons and the teller at the local bank step back.

"J-just what I said, Mr. Barton. The ten-thousand quid was withdrawn at our location just down the street, not ten minutes ago."

Vernon had never been a patient, nor a kind, man. In the teller's quiver, he smelled fear and it was in his personality to push home the point. Slamming his closed fists against the protective glass he let loose a foul diatribe of hate and promised retribution.

Seeing the trouble, the bank's manager called the constabulary and requested their assistance with a large man being a very public nuisance in his institution. Heading to his teller's side, he unsuccessfully attempted to calm Vernon Barton down, though he did promise to look into the matter of the withdrawn funds. Despite the promise of help, Vernon's rage grew to new heights as the summoned constables entered the bank.

"Sirs! I demand you arrest these people for stealing my money." He gestured wildly at the gathered tellers and bank manager through the glass.

"Sir," responded the larger of the two public servants, "We are going to have to ask you to calm yourself. I can understand that you are frustrated -"

"You're damn well right! These imbeciles behind the glass are refusing to hand me the money I've entrusted to their institution! If I don't get it this instant, there will be pressed charges!"

"Sir," began the response, "again, while I understand your anger about this, there is a proper way of handling yourself. Causing a scene is not the way to have your dispute resolved." The officer once again attempted to reason with the larger man, but it seemed futile.

"Look here, copper. I pay your salary. You and yours are beholden to me and my taxes. I'm asking you to support me in a legitimate dispute, but if you're not here for that, then get out of here and stay out of my way. I'm going to collect my money and nothing you can do will stop me."

Both constables loosened their billy clubs, as it seemed the confrontation could end in nothing short of fisticuffs. Seeing this, Vernon saw red and bull-rushed the smaller of the two.

Panic welled in the eyes of the smaller man, but his training kicked in and he mostly avoided the behemoth. His partner's club came down across the large man's arm and back, and the floor shook with the impact of the giant's body. Quickly jumping down upon the man's back, the two constables called for backup through their radios while working to restrain Vernon Barton. It would be several hours before Petunia would learn through a phone call what was holding her husband up in his trip to the bank.


"How does it feel to be on my side of the law, Uncle?" The low voice grabbed Vernon's attention immediately and his eyes shot to his cell entrance. The voice was familiar, but his eyes saw nothing.

"Boy?"

"You thought you could hide my past from me forever, I'll wager. You've never made a bigger mistake than emancipating me. I think you'll find actual reason for my existence to make you miserable in the future. This is just a small taste of what I'm now capable of doing to you."

"What are you talking about, boy? And where are you, come in front of my cell." Vernon was frantically trying to catch sight of his nephew.

"I am right in front of your cell, Uncle." Suddenly, the boy materialized directly before Vernon, green eyes blazing with hate. Vernon stumbled back in surprise, and tripped over his cell bed before falling on the ground. Frantically gazing back at his cell entrance, no trace of his nephew was to be found.

"Boy? BOY! Where did you go? What have you done to me?" Vernon's voice raised louder before a *POP* rang through the jail and a primal scream of terror emanated from the whale of a man. Constables would schedule a psychiatric evaluation for their prisoner who was babbling about freaks, invisibility, and teleportation.


The New Year came and went, and Harry spared little time to think of this relatives, satisfied for now in his revenge. In fact, while he had taken pleasure in concocting the plan of vengeance, in truth, Harry had only acted as quickly as he had because of the larger looming threat. The idea that Voldemort could still be alive in some form and searching for a way back amongst the living dominated Harry's thoughts.

"Remus, I know what you heard, but there are so many things that could be wrong with it that it is simply not worth caring about." Harry and Remus were once again debating the prophecy. Ever since its revelation, Harry had known what he would do, and that was ignore it.

"Harry, I know that you don't care for the idea of prophecy, but you have to admit that they have an impressive track record."

"I know, Remus, but these types of things turn out to be self-fulfilling so often anyway that it is hard to say that prophecies are really that accurate. Regardless, you heard the prophecy second hand through Augusta Longbottom in a moment that was extremely emotional for her. There is no guarantee that what you heard is even the correct text of the prophecy."

"So we come around in a circle again," Remus sighed. "I know you think that it is not worth paying attention to, but you did not see Dumbledore's reaction to Augusta. It is clear that he knows the prophecy, and he was entirely too upset about her spilling it."

"Dumbledore is widely regarded as the brightest wizard alive, Remus. What if it was all a show and he was acting. Maybe he put a false prophecy out into the public so that no-one would know the truth."

Remus paused. He had not thought of that. Then he shrugged. "I suppose we will have to agree to disagree."

"I suppose. The thing is Remus, this may just be a case of me giving the finger to the idea of fate; the idea of destiny. I do not believe in that shit. I refuse to believe that anything is foretold." He paused. "If I ever have Voldemort in my sights, that 'prophecy' is getting tested."

Remus offered a silent hope that Harry would never find himself in that situation.


"Harry. Remus," Sirius greeted both with a nod as he walked into the library. "How would you like to make a quick stop by my old family home? All the wards should be under my complete control since I've claimed the Headship of the House of Black and there could be some really useful tomes in the family library."

This peaked Harry's interest immediately, but Remus remained skeptical. "Define useful," he asked.

"Well," Sirius pulled a chair and sat down next to the others. "I seem to recall dozens of older Ancient Runes books that were actually written by an ancestor of mine, among other topics. The Black family was never really one to share our knowledge and we had a lot of researchers in the family tree. I know there are proprietary spellbooks aplenty."

Remus nodded thoughtfully and Harry cut in, "What is the potential risk?"

"Well, the house itself is on a muggle street, and we have no wizarding neighbors that I'm familiar with. At least, we had none growing up. So there should be little risk in getting to the house. Also, the house itself is under enough protective wards that we should not be in any danger once we enter."

"Could there be someone from the Ministry watching the property?" Remus asked.

"I suppose there could be." Sirius shrugged helplessly. "That would be a risk, of course, but it seems unlikely. I've been 'dead' now for six months. It would be a lot of risk for Fudge to let someone in on the secret just in order to watch my family house for that long. Besides, I don't believe the location of the place is registered with the Ministry."

"The risk sounds minimal, Remus." Harry offered.

"Agreed. The payoff could be nice, too. However, let's put together an escape plan just in case. We can visit the property this weekend."

Sirius was agreeable and the three began to plan.


Sirius looked up from the book he was reading – Magik Moste Foul – at his godson's entrance to the sitting room. Harry looked at the title of the book and smiled.

"Quite the collection your family had there. Any reason you've delved straight into the dark stuff?"

Sirius shut the book and rubbed his fingers across his brow. "I know you are planning to face Voldemort if he ever comes back."

Harry lifted a single eyebrow in surprise.

"I'm not an idiot, Harry. Ever since Remus told us that Dumbledore thinks Voldemort is not as gone as the rest of the Wizarding world believes, you've been working like a madman. And your tastes have run a bit more to the combat magics than they had previously." Harry nodded that Sirius had the right of it. "If you're planning that, the least I can do is plan to join you."

Sirius pointed at the tome, "This type of stuff is right up Ol' Voldie's alley."

"I won't argue that," Harry replied. "I've looked through that one, pretty nasty. I'm not sure there is any legitimate use for a spell that sucks your lungs out of your mouth."

Sirius turned a bit pale. "You're probably right. How are runes and Arithmancy going, by the way? I've mostly tried to stay out of your and Remus' way when you two get going on those discussions."

Harry laughed. "They are going well. From what I've seen in the lessons that I've sat through via pensieve, I'm up to about sixth year in both subjects. Remus has been a big help there, of course. I'd judge most of my abilities to lean towards the practical though, simply given the way that both you and Remus teach."

Sirius laughed and thought about the various prank wars that had erupted over the last several months. Harry had quickly learned how to ward his room in order to not fall subject to pranks of the magical variety as easily. Defense was often learned by parrying hair-color charms that shot from dark corners and Harry often had to stay on high-alert.

"I can see that," the dog animagus said.

"Actually, Remus is still working on that rune."

Sirius shook his head in dismay. "Won't he ever give up on that?"

Harry laughed. "I don't think so, it has caught him like a bug. The weird thing is though, I think that he is making progress with it. Not to the degree he thinks is possible, of course, but right now he is working on another rune which he thinks can act as a stabilizer for the power flow." He shrugged. "It is all way above my level, of course, but it doesn't prevent me from trying to follow along."

Sirius smiled. "It is funny that you mention it is above your level – because I think that you've about reached mine in most everything I can teach you. The rest will just come with practice. I think you've even reached Remus' level in some things, the practical parts at least."

"Hah. I think you are giving me a little too much credit there, Sirius. You do have a point though. I think that what I can learn from the two of you is coming up against a point of diminishing returns. I know we've talked about it before, so I guess I know what this means."

Sirius nodded. "You'll have to enroll for Hogwarts."

"Well, I've a couple months yet until I have to send off that particular letter. I may as well learn what I can from the two of you old dogs. You may not be able to learn new tricks any longer, but I still can." Harry laughed at Sirius' expense until he was hit with a stinging charm.

Another prank war began.


Dumbledore sat at his desk, bent over a stack of paperwork that had piled up over the week. There were many things to be reviewed, of course, the term was beginning to wrap up and teachers were submitting their plans for the final exams. While most of the teaching staff had been at the school for years, there were always the new professors. For those, Dumbledore reviewed their lesson plans in order to ensure that the level of material and testing was up to snuff.

As he made a mark on one sheet he was interrupted by one of the portraits on his wall.

"Dumbledore."

The aged wizard looked up towards the particular portrait that had spoken.

"Yes, Phineas?" It was not often that a portrait spoke to him without first being spoken too, but he certainly did not normally mind. The portraits were a great source of information.

"May I speak to you in your study?" The portrait asked.

Now that was an odd request. While portraits often may wait until their fellows were sleeping before giving up some juicy piece of information, it was extremely rare that any single portrait asked to be moved. Deciding that the paperwork could wait, Dumbledore stood.

"Absolutely, Phineas. If you give me just a moment I'll have you off the wall." With a quick wave of his wand, the portrait rose off its hangings and floated into Dumbledore's private study ahead of the Headmaster. As they entered, a quick wave of his hand and the door shut.

"Now, what is it that I may help you with, Phineas?" Dumbledore asked, curious.

"You recall last year, when you told me that my line had become extant?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course. In fact, I remember telling you at the end of the year that there was a new Lord Black, though I've still yet to confirm who many hold the title."

"Then it may interest you to know that the new Lord Black came by the family home this weekend."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in expectation. This was surely a rare piece of information. "I don't suppose you were able to identify the Lord Black?"

"I was." Phineas paused.

"Do you plan to share the information?" Dumbledore prodded.

"I do. You see though, it is rather shocking, Dumbledore. The house was actually visited by three people. Two of whom I know well. The other, I can guess at. I'm not sure where your communication network broke, but the new head of House Black is none other than Sirius Orion Black. He was there with his werewolf friend Remus Lupin and a boy who could be the spitting image of James Potter." The portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black glared at Dumbledore, who looked as close to shocked as any had ever seen the elderly wizard.

"That – that is interesting, indeed." A long pause issued as Dumbledore thought about what it could mean. "I shall have to dig into this, Phineas. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will, of course, repay you as soon as I am able to find out more."

"Thank you, Dumbledore. You should know – all three looked extremely happy, and all were comfortable around with each other. They grabbed the family library and took off, I know not to where."

"Curious-er and curious-er."


Harry sat alone in his room. He had spent the last few hours running through a meditative exercise while using some basic channeling spells. As he levitated a book, he examined his mind and body for the differences between using magic and not. With practice, he had become quite adept at finding the flows of magic related to certain spells. Each spell flowed differently, based on the intended effects and the runic patterns that each effect required.

He had yet to reach the breakthrough moment with any particular spell, but felt that he was coming close with this one. Carefully, he examined the vaguely runic patterns his magic made within his body before it exited through his wand. Next, he examined the patterns of the magic as it was transformed in his wand and left the utensil.

Letting the spell collapse, Harry put his wand on the ground. He called up the, now familiar, patterns of magic that became the levitation spell. Leveraging Occlumency to focus on his memories of previously casting that spell, he pushed that magic outward. Wrestling it into a rough approximation of what the runic patterns should be as the spell exited his wand, he forcefully expelled the magic through his hand at the book.

To his surprise, a small blast of magical energy left his palm and struck the nightstand the book lay on. The nightstand shuddered before falling still once more.

Elation ran wild and several self-congratulatory phrases were issued before the teen dove back in for round two.


"So you see Harry, just as it is in muggle Maths, even in the wizarding world the theoretical often follows the practical."

Arithmancy was an old art – but in recent centuries had exploded onto the scene as one of the most important re-innovations in the Wizarding World. The separation of wizards and muggles had left the Wizarding World somewhat behind in muggle advances. Oftentimes, it took a special muggleborn or half-blood to bring certain things to the attention of the magical world. This was the case for the explosion in interest in Arithmancy.

Roughly a century after Principia Mathematica had been authored by a very special muggle, there was a muggleborn who had the aptitude and means to become quite the mathematician of his own. His discoveries revolutionized the field of Arithmancy, which had been stuck with the basic principles of Algebra and Geometry. These disciplines had allowed the perfecting of runic shapes based on crude runes which had been discovered for the most part through pure, dumb luck.

Applying calculus to runes had allowed a true understanding of the way magic itself interacted with Mathematics. The relationship, always before assumed to be coincidental, was clearly shown not to be. By describing runic forms in formulaic tablature, derivatives described the tangential lines on which magic ran while a spell was active. This information could be used to reverse engineer existing spells and re-design spells for efficiency.

"I cannot believe, Remus, that so many runic forms were discovered before people understood this," Harry opined.

"I know what you mean. However, I do believe that it was possible to discover as many as were due to several factors, some of which may be disputed by the Wizarding community at large," Remus countered. "One, Magic is a natural force and thus is observable, measurable, and follows natural laws. Two, nature has subtle ways of revealing its laws to us, and just as geometry was discovered by observation of the natural world, so were the basic principles behind runic design. Three, Trial and Error is a legitimate research tool when given a very basic framework."

Harry smiled. "I suppose I've done my fair share of that from time to time, although it mostly ends in error."

"It usually does. However, I think it was that muggle Edison that said 'I've not failed, I've found ten thousand ways that will not work.' I'm rather fond of the sentiment," Remus stated.

"Hmmm." Harry paused, a thought catching in his mind. "You know, it is funny. In muggle fiction, ancient magics were always the most powerful – the thought that they were undiluted and so on and so forth. There is this idea that ancient spellbooks contained lost knowledge and that the wizards of today's world have lost that ancient knowledge. The more I find out about the Wizarding World, the more it seems to be false. There continues to be advancement here, just as in the muggle world. I would think that the average wizard today knows more about Arithmancy than any of the founders of the noble houses or Hogwarts."

"You may very well be right," Remus started. "I think that the biggest thing in the wizarding world is that there are some ancient authors whose work paralleled the modern work, they just did not yet understand the mathematics. However, they were very good at their trial and error. So by finding tomes previously thought lost, we get to gain the results of their experimentations. Also, it is somewhat true that there is not a standard repository of knowledge in the Wizarding World. We've never been huge fans of public libraries as the muggle world has been over the last centuries and due to this, knowledge in our world is held close to chest. I'd give you Sirius' family library we collected just recently as an example of that."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Are there any Wizarding institutes that are dedicated to the study and advancement of theories and mathematics?"

Remus shook his head. "Unfortunately, we still haven't learned to share. While there are certainly partnerships between specific researchers, by and large our world prefers to work alone that they may get the credit. I'd say the closest thing you get to an institute are the schools. Hogwarts has the greatest collection of talent, of course, but even there - there is competition between the professors. Each tries to outdo the others, and most hold secrets close to chest."

"The semester just ended, did it not?" Harry asked, and Remus nodded. "Do you still think it worthwhile for me to enroll for the next?"

"I do. You're a quick study, Harry, and I think that the Hogwarts environment will push you to become even more successful. Plus, you'll be able to have a somewhat normal ending to your childhood. Beyond that, you'd have the opportunity to attend Hogwarts University, which is still the best way to obtain any type of mastery, if that's the way you'd like to go."

"I think that I would, Remus. I always assumed growing up that I'd have to make my own fortune in order to live, but it seems I've inherited quite the start. Magic makes most of the rest pretty easy. But I don't think I'd be content just sitting around. I may as well try to become something in this world."

Remus nodded in understanding. "It really has been a pleasure working with you here at the Manor, Harry. I'll miss you when you continue onto the school, but I think that it will be best that you do."

"Don't worry, Remus. We will still correspond, and maybe I'll be able to help you make a breakthrough on that runic monstrosity."

Remus laughed and shook his head a bit in resignation. "I'm not giving up on it. That is sure. I truly believe that there is something there, but has been eluding me."

"Well, I'm looking forward to your success. I think it was also Edison who stated 'Many of life's failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.' Keep trucking, Remus." Harry patted the werewolf on the back, commiserating with the long hours the man had already invested into the rune.

"By the way, Harry. There's something I've been meaning to ask you. Not about any of this." He waved his hands to indicate their studies. "I assume with the upbringing you had you'd speak quite differently than Sirius and myself. You're almost always formal. Why is that?"

Harry shrugged. "I had some really great profs at St. Brutus'. One of the language profs let me know that if I continued to speak like a roadman I'd always be considered one by those I spoke with. He worked with me on being able to speak posh-like. It's paid its weight in gold many times over; I'll have to remember to send the man something, actually.

"Anyway, my old speech slips out occasionally, most of the time when I'm amp or in ends." He gave a cheeky smile.

"With that though," Harry continued, "I'm off to bed. I've a letter to Hogwarts to write tomorrow, and a wonderful book on the formation of the Wizengamot on my nightstand."

Remus laughed. "Anorak."

Harry chuckled. "Right back at you."


Professor Minerva McGonagall,

I am writing to you as a prospective student. I am familiar enough with Hogwarts educational model to know that it is highly unusual for Hogwarts to admit a student other than at a program break (Years 1, 6, and 8) but am applying nonetheless. My situation has been such that I have been unable to apply prior to this year.

My name is Harry Potter, son of Duke and Duchess Potter. I believe that had I been raised in the Wizarding World, I would already occupy your halls. Seeing as I have only recently become re-acquainted with magic, I would like to take my place at your school. As I'm sure you are aware, due to the media coverage, I have been involved with the Wizarding World for only a year. However, I have had near constant tutors available to me. Each of my tutors assures me that I would be a fit for 7th year, where my age would rightly place me.

I can understand your probable skepticism in regards to this, and thus invite you to test me in whatever way you feel necessary in order to ascertain my level of expertise. My intended field of studies are Arithmancy and Runes, with an additional focus on channeled magics.

I wish the best to you and yours.

Your Humble Applicant,

Harry Potter

Minerva McGonagall sat in front of Albus Dumbledore has he scanned the missive. She had known immediately that this particular letter would require the Headmaster's input, though she was the Dean of Admissions.

"Fascinating," Dumbledore finally commented. "I was not sure that young Mr. Potter would ever apply."

"Given his likely upbringing, it was quite the shock to me too," the Deputy Headmistress responded. "I must say, I would like to see a Potter in these halls again."

Dumbledore nodded. "I quite agree. In fact, I believe that if his tutors believe him ready, he likely shall be."

Minerva looked at her long-time friend. "You know something of this."

Dumbledore made a sound which was non-committal. "Regardless, I agree that it is time we had Mr. Potter here at Hogwarts. He can arrive with the other students, we can assess his skill upon his arrival. In the response, please inform him that should his ability not be as advertised, we will move him into the appropriate programme of study."

"Of course, Headmaster." With that, the Scottish Professor dismissed herself from the office of her superior.

"Simply fascinating," Dumbledore murmured as he turned back to the endless paperwork.