22nd March 1995 - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Glencoe Highlands, Scotland.
Harry spent just long enough after the results were announced to chat with the other champions, congratulate Viktor who had tied for first with him, pose for pictures for the papers and give a brief interview to go along with it.
Once those were done he took off, popping himself up into Headmaster Dumbledore's office and plopped himself down behind the desk into the older man's chair with a glance to where Fawkes was having a nap on his perch. Rummaging for a moment, he helped himself to a piece of parchment paper and a quill before he quickly got to work putting the ideas in his head down on paper so he could work on each part properly.
Ideally he would have waited and asked before simply taking some of the headmasters things, but the older man had made it clear multiple times now that everything kept in his office was freely available for Harry's use should he ever need it. Which just meant that he had probably gotten sick of Harry constantly asking if he could borrow this or that book while he had been ploughing through the books in Albus' and the school's library months ago.
Which was fair, he thought. There was realistically only so many times that someone could interrupt him while he was working before Harry started getting cranky.
As patient as he always seemed to be, Harry didn't doubt that the old headmaster was much different.
Though admittedly he was perfectly capable of conjuring up his own stationary at a whim and a thought. There was just something fundamentally satisfying in knicking someone else's for use.
He was six diagrams in, and had run out of pilferable stock and thus required to conjure his own anyway when Albus Dumbledore finally appeared and sat himself down in one of the well stuffed chairs that were usually reserved for visitors.
"I think I should warn you that Poppy is rather put out with you for vanishing before she could examine your injuries." The old man informed him, letting his withered hand fold and rest in his lap.
Harry nodded absently, having expected as much. "I've already run through all the basic first aid care that needed urgent doing. The rest can wait a bit while I get this done, otherwise I won't be able to sit still long enough for the balms and the like to be properly applied."
Dumbledore sighed but nodded. "I had assumed that had been the case, it was plain to see that your mind was elsewhere while you were crafting your array. Which was still very good work, might I add."
"Thanks." Harry responded absently before he abruptly stopped working and fixed the older man with an intense look. "Do you think I'm boring?"
Albus blinked, taken aback by the question then settled back in the armchair to properly weigh the question. "I've known a few people in my years that I have felt to have been a bit dull, a little boring. Either in terms of conversation or in action, both men and women and those who are other. Most commonly it was their unwillingness or otherwise an inability to engage in anything new."
The boy king cocked his head as he frowned thoughtfully. "How so?"
"The same conversation topics over and over, almost to the point of having the exact same conversation repeatedly. Not being open to trying new things, I've found, can lead to a person becoming bored and in turn boring to other people. The lack of new experiences either first hand or from an outside source, I think may be the main culprit. Or rather a lack of openness to those experiences." The old headmaster told him, frowning a little himself as he thought on the topic and certain individuals he had encountered over the years. "I've always thought that you were rather open to new ideas and experiences, particularly first hand ones."
Harry thought about that before nodding slowly. "I never really had a chance to try new things before I started here at Hogwarts. It felt like everything was so very different from what I had grown up with and there wasn't really anyone telling me I shouldn't." He added with a shrug.
It had been quite the opposite in fact, instead of being held back from the new things he saw he had had people coming from left and right telling him he needed to try this or that. He had been inundated with new things and encouraged - near to the point that it was a demand - to try everything. To slake his curiosity.
Some of the things he had tried had been less keenly received than others, he still didn't think he would ever enjoy the sensations that went with eating ice mice and feeling the sweet treat wriggle all the way down. But others had been wonderful and had in turn enthused him towards trying other new things.
"May I ask what brought on this particular trail of thought?" Albus asked curiously, expression calm as he regarded Harry evenly.
Harry shrugged his glowing eyes slipping down to stare at the spread of diagram filled parchment in front of him. "I don't know. All I seem to really do lately is work, on building or cultivating relationships with other communities or training."
"And you are concerned that this has made you less interesting?"
"Sort of?" Harry muttered. "It's a stupid thing, really."
"You know, as I continue to get older, I find that very few things are ever stupid." Albus countered with a small smile. "Frightfully foolish, sometimes silly or bafflingly bizarre, certainly. But rarely stupid, no matter how we might sometimes feel otherwise."
"Nice alliteration." The boy king said and got a wink in return. "Since we worked out a stand-in post system with the help of Gringotts, I've been exchanging weekly letters with Ron and Hermione. So they've been keeping me up to date with everything that's happening around them. What they're learning, how the quidditch matches are going, who's been seen snog-err, dating who."
Harry shifted in his borrowed seat, one hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck.
The old headmaster merely smiled at him, blue eyes twinkling merrily. "The many concerns of youth."
"Right, so, there's all that. But then all I have to write back about is stuff they're probably not really interested in anyway." Harry muttered, shrugging half-heartedly as his eyes settled on his work again.
"Oh, I'm sure Ms. Granger is heartilly interested in anything and everything to do with building a nation, particularly its laws and government. She's developed quite an interest in the subject lately." Albus told him calmly. "As for Mr. Weasley, I have myself overheard him on more than one occasion sharing news that you've shared with him with your former housemates. He was quite excited to share details of your new auror training program, if I recall correctly."
The teen sat back and watched the borrowed quill dance between his fingers as he twirled it about.
"I think you'll find that despite the distance, despite no longer seeing each other everyday that you haven't grown as separate or as different as you seem to fear. The bond you three share was forged in adversity, in a common struggle and nurtured by your own wish to find the common ground between you. These sorts of bonds are not so easily broken or cast aside." Dumbledore assured him quietly, blue eyes studying him as Harry studiously avoided looking at him or meeting his gaze.
A rare show of discomfort on his part.
"They've been fighting." Harry all but whispered.
The older man nodded. "Indeed, long enough that more than a few people have noticed, myself included."
The teen frowned. "Fred and George said they've been fighting since the Yule Ball."
"It certainly seems that way." Dumbledore agreed.
"Do you know why?"
"I'm afraid I do not. The cause for the original disagreement remains between them." Albus told him with a sad shake of his head. "As for why they have not as yet put their disagreement behind them...I've found most often the common cause for such is unfortunately, pride."
Harry opened his mouth to comment but closed it again while he thought about it. It only took him a moment to come to the conclusion that both Ron and Hermione were quite prideful and were equally the type to believe they were right in any given argument they had. When Harry had still been a student at Hogwarts, had been there with them each and everyday, he had often played the mediator between them. He had been the one to give perspective and to talk them down from their huffs and grumbles.
But he wasn't there anymore.
And he couldn't mediate a fight that he hadn't even been aware was going on.
He wasn't there to make sure they pulled their respective heads out of their asses or out of their books or wherever else they might have buried it, to make them see that whatever had happened shouldn't get in the way of their friendship.
They wouldn't still be fighting if he hadn't left them to begin with.
Although he was admittedly very conveniently ignoring the fact that they had frequently gotten over some of their past protracted bickering matches because he had managed to get himself into a pickle that necessitated their putting their temporary differences behind them.
The same thing had happened every year so far.
Case in point, Harry leaping on a troll in their first year. Hissing in his second and chasing a supposed ghost in their third.
Every year they'd fight in differing levels of intensity that would be tapered down by the odd nugget of wisdom, pointed look, or his seemingly imminent demise.
On one hand it was touching that they cared enough to keep risking their own necks to help keep him safe - though obviously not ideal - but on the other it realistically shouldn't take someone's life being on the line for two people to put their differences behind them and make up.
Sighing in frustration, Harry let the quill he had been playing with fall from his fingers and reached up to rub at his face as if by the mere act would banish the problem. "They're not going to make up until I make them, aren't they?"
The old man inclined his head slowly, expression shifting to one of quiet reserve. "That seems, most unfortunately, to be the likely scenario. At least as far as I've been able to divine of the current situation. Triad's, either born or friendship or other more complex emotions and goals, are terribly fragile for all the reasons that they are strong."
Pulling his wand from his sleeve the headmaster conjured three sticks of differing colours; orange, brown and black, an easily identifiable representation of Ron, Hermione and Harry. A gentle swish had the sticks trying to lean against each other in various combinations.
The teen watched as the sticks fell alone, and again when two of them tried balancing together until finally all three were leaning against each other, balanced just right with each other stick so each supported the other two.
"Three stands stable where the one or two alone would topple, against gravity and those other forces that would normally lay them low." Albus told him gently before he reached out and plucked the black stick away, causing the other two to fall. "But you see, they are each wholly reliant on each other being there to support them that should one of those no longer be there, they topple."
Harry stared at the sticks, watching the orange and brown ones roll to a stop on the desk.
"It is on this principle that our ancient covens are formed and maintained, each witch or wizard carefully considered so that balance can be achieved and maintained. Because we understand, in the quiet depths of our core what becomes possible when we each have the necessary support." Albus said, reaching forward to gently set the black stick down on the desk between the other two. "It is also why, despite our muggle neighbours struggle with the notion, we children of magic do not instinctively shy away from true partnerships, romantic or otherwise, with more than one person. We each to some degree feel the pull to gravitate and join with those that can balance and uplift us."
Humming quietly, Harry thought on that.
Several of the tomes he had studied had either mentioned or gone into some level of detail on the subject of covens and the balance between individual sources of magic. Primarily his arithmancy and ritual tomes, the notes also popped up in his healers manuals and charm texts. All of it pointing out the benefits and drawbacks of covens on this or that relevant to the topic at hand.
The most complex had been arithmancy, as usual. It had tackled mathematical formulae that measured both the individual members and the group as a whole, all with the goal of finding the perfect number that would bestow the greatest stability and the deepest well of shared power.
The problem being, despite the many benefits of being part of a coven, was that they required a certain level of openness and trust. Two things that had long been in drought in magical Britain. The very few surviving covens were quiet, private circles woven by families and bound in blood. Closed to the outside world and muted compared to the covens of ages long since past. Covens had apparently been, up until perhaps a decade post Grindewald's fall, almost commonplace.
They had ranged widely in size, according to the bits of material he had been able to find, since each was heavily dependent on each person. Each piece of the puzzle, each strand in the weave. There could be no more than what could be actively supported by the other members combined strength, to bolster those that were sick or injured, those whose magic was drained or less abundant.
Because magical power was not the be-all and end-all that decided coven harmony, as long as a person had the spark of magic nestled in their soul, they could join with and be part of the greater whole. Be made stronger by the flame that burned between them. Be nourished by the Other, that for some was normally just out of reach.
It had been truly fascinating to Harry, to read an excerpt about a coven that had existed back in 1812. Each and every member a squib that housed the spark but by defect were unable to call up and channel their own power, whatever it had been.
But joined together, each equal to the other in the embrace of the circle, each could draw on the pool that formed between them. On the heart of their coven.
It had allowed them, who had been dubbed useless and blemishes upon their lines to perform rituals of their own. Though none had ever been able to use a wand, as wands were foci that helped channel a wixens own power, but they had not been lacking. They had tied their circle to a shared plot of land where they lived and toiled, a farm that was blessed by their rituals and that nourished them just as they nourished it.
But each of those coven members were carefully selected and weighed so each would add stability and strength without upsetting the balance and creating a discordant drain that would have pulled them each lower than they had been before their addition.
"Sirius mentioned a bit about that." Harry admitted. "When he decided he needed to be sure I know about how sexual relations work out here as opposed to in the mundane world. The different biases and the the acceptance of homosexual relationships dates back to when magical matchmakers were more common."
Albus nodded, one wrinkled hand reaching up to stroke his long white beard. "Indeed. Back in those days to see a person with a partner was to know that that person was their ideal match in life and magic. Someone that would bolster their power and shore up their weaknesses much like a coven could. The saying 'Magic is All' dates to the same era and quite literally means, magic is all that matters."
"But then the matchmaking fell out of favour, right?" Harry asked, trusting the older mans deeper well of historical learning.
"Quite so. Exorbitant costs for services, the rise of magical schools that were offering arithmancy and divination as subjects anyone could learn." The old man sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Greed is truly one of the more short-sighted of our follies. It drives us to short term gain but often blinds us to the long term consequences of our actions."
Harry hummed quietly, having certainly seen an up close example of what greed had done to Dudley who now had to get all his school uniforms custom made and who had never learned to be satisfied with what he had, thus was always reaching for more. "It would be interesting though, don't you think?"
"What would?"
"If proper match makers made a comeback. Muggles have their own sorts, though most of them are con-artists that don't actually know anything about astronomy, astrology or anything that could be used to actually determine matches." Harry admitted, cocking his head to one side as he crossed his arms over his chest. "But Volstar at least has fair trade laws in place to protect consumers from price gouging, so we'd be less likely to run into the same problem. And even though technically just about everyone has the opportunity to learn the skills required, not everyone has the talent, so there'd still theoretically be a viable market."
"Hmm, a number of things that were once quite popular have been making a resurgence of late. A few extra employment options in the futures of diligent students would be well received, I believe." The older man agreed after a moment of quiet consideration. "The wars and all the efforts made to recover from their devastation did very little, I'm afraid, to bolster the job force."
The young king inclined his head, glowing gaze moving to scan the bookshelves and the books they housed. Books that he had finished absorbing in their totality months ago.
The headmaster shifted, leaning forward just a little in his seat. "If I may ask, I was surprised not to see your Healer with you?"
"A few of our new residents were due to sit for their medi-wix certification so he stayed behind to oversee them since the original examiner fell ill." Harry explained absently, mind still elsewhere.
"Your community has started to grow, slow and steady, if the odd news articles are to be believed." The old wizard said, shifting the subject of conversation yet again.
"Yeah. We've been gradually recruiting people to fill specific positions first so we have a stable foundation of medical and educational personnel, ministry workers, et cetera." The teen told him, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "So far it's been working pretty well, so we should have a fairly solid work force already in place when we officially open immigration."
"Ah yes, August I believe you said in one of your letters?"
Harry nodded, focusing back on his work in front of him. "That is the plan. I invited Ron and Hermione to visit over their summer break with their families so they get a chance to explore a little beforehand."
"And give you a chance to mend some bridges?" Albus guessed, peering at the younger wizard from over the rim of his spectacles.
Huffing a sigh, Harry shrugged. "Well it doesn't seem like they'll work it out on their own, so it's as good a time as any. And besides it'll limit their ability to run away until they've settled things one way or the other."
Reaching for a dish near the edge of the desk, the headmaster plucked it up and plucked a sweet from its confines, bright yellow with rounded edges. He popped it in his mouth and hummed appreciatively. "I shall wish you luck in your endeavours, however I don't believe you will need it. Merely a kind shoulder and caring heart, and those are two things you have always had in surplus."
He pondered the contents of the dish for a moment before holding it out to the young king. "Would you care for a lemon drop? I've always found I do my best thinking when enjoying a small treat and these have been my favourite since I was a boy myself."
Eyeing the dish for a moment, Harry shrugged and leaned forward to extract one and popped it in his mouth. Almost immediately he winced and puckered around the sour lollie and had to wonder a moment about the massive walking contradiction that was Albus Dumbledore.
A man that loved sweets, but whose favourite sweet was in fact sour.
Light and dark.
Powerful and gentle.
Joyful and filled with remorse.
Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak.
A stranger man Harry was fairly certain he was unlikely to meet.