Disclaimer: This Harry Potter story was written for fun. All rights belong to the wonderful lady (JK Rowling) who gave the world Harry Potter to read and enjoy. No ships. Bashing around everyone.

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Cursed Magic in the Wizengamot

26 June 1996

Cursed Magic Strikes Wizengamot Meeting

With another edition of screaming headlines, the Daily Prophet was read several times in most magical homes and taverns across Magical Britain.

The lead article began: DMLE Director Amelia Bones released the following news to the Daily Prophet and other media outlets in Magical Britain late yesterday afternoon.

During a special session of the Wizengamot called to address pressure from the ICW on Magical Britain to implement immediate and meaningful reform, the meeting ended abruptly when Headmaster Albus Dumbledore burst into an enveloping flames that consumed the wizard and killed him. The headmaster died quickly when some enchanted items on the headmaster's body burst into an intense fire. The Department of Mysteries believes that these items were terribly evil magic (Horcruxes, a.k.a. Soul Jars) that were braided into the headmaster's beard. Nothing is known about the creation or use of the soul jars at this time but there was a secondary effect of the multiple items disintegrating and catching fire on the headmaster's person – sympathetic magic triggered the disintegration and ignition of another soul jar on the person of Chief Warlock Augusta Longbottom.

The dark spirit of Augusta Longbottom was ejected from her soul jar, as were four dark spirits thrown from containers that had been on Albus Dumbledore's smouldering corpse. (Pictures on page 2). The spirits that appeared over Dumbledore have been identified Griselda Marchbanks (died February 1996), Alois Harding-Rollings (died 1986), a younger Albus Dumbledore and a younger Gellert Grindelwald. The spirits all dissipated without addressing or attacking any of the observers.

The Department of Mysteries is conducting studies of the memories of several Wizengamot members. The Unspeakables will reach out to their peers around the world and the goblins to help identify the cause for the brief inferno. No one is suspected of assassinating Albus Dumbledore (Headmaster of Hogwarts) or Augusta Longbottom (Chief Warlock). The cause of death for the wizard and the witch will be 'death by misadventure/misuse of magic'.

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You're Not a Pureblood Princess Anymore

Ignoring the fact that their parents kept the Daily Prophet from them this morning, the Greengrass sisters spent the morning in the dressing room off the eldest daughter's bedroom. After reading the articles debunking the pure blood status of every family in the Daily Prophet for the tenth time, Daphne Greengrass stared at mirror for two minutes and resolved to find a new path forward. Then she turned her attention to her sister, Astoria, "Get up, we're going for a walk."

"Why?"

"Because we need to move about and get our blood pumping so our brains will work."

Sighing mournfully, Astoria whined, "Our blood isn't pure."

"Pureblood is a false promise, Storie! Did you ever notice that mum and dad were always more interested in our grades and mastery of spells than how proper our manners are?"

"But Grandmother insisted that we be pureblood princesses."

"And Grandmother shut up when the muggleborn was found hanging from her family tree, didn't she?"

Giggling, the thirteen-year-old, asked, "So, do we become muddy muggles this summer?"

"No, of course not. We wouldn't know how to anyway."

"Can we invite Tracy and Millie over? They have muggle clothes. And cosmetics! And magazines! There are lots of fashion magazines in muggleland."

"Not Tracy. Her family is going on holiday to some magical kingdom and she's helping with her brothers. But we can call Millie. How about we go visit her? Her dad let her mum get electricity and a telly this spring."

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Tracy Davis

The teenage witch sat back in the chair and asked, "Mum, how have you not gone spare? The boys run from the minute they climb out of bed until they go to bed at night!"

Anne Davis smiled, "That's what I get for giving your dad three boys after our sweet little girl. How was I to know they would be wild and rambunctious where their sister never-ever-ever got into mischief before she went to Hogwarts."

Blushing, Tracy replied, "Don't tell 'em about my adventures."

"Don't worry, I won't because I don't want them to get any ideas about leaping into the floo when I'm not in the room."

"When does Dad get home today?"

"Sometime around six," Anne replied. "We'll have supper and then finish packing for our holiday."

"Are we really going as regular people the whole way?"

"Yes," Anne said. "Your dad and I want the boys to be as 'muggle' as possible and able to move around Europe. We're taking the train to London and then under the channel to Paris and Euro Disney."

"I think it's called the Chunnel – the tunnel under the channel – get it?"

Anne grinned at her eldest child who was blossoming into a lovely young woman. She smiled, nodded and said, "Chunnel, that's right. And at the park, it'll take all three of us to keep up with the boys. Are you sure you don't want to invite Daphne or Millie to go with us?"

"No," Tracy replied. "I wouldn't want to ask just one and leave the other out. The three of us have to stick together."

"When we return from holiday, you can invite them over for a sleep over or two," Anne said. "Your dad and I will keep the boys out of your hair, and you can sit up all night talking about boys and fashions."

"And play Spice Girls and George Micheal albums on the player!"

Anne just rolled her eyes and muttered, "The Beatles were better."

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Neville Longbottom

Swallowing his pride, Neville stared at the sheets of parchment in front of him. He had to write multiple letters of apology to his dorm mates, the girls in fifth year, the Puffs in fifth year, and he had to beg Hannah not to hate him.

'My whole life is a lie,' he remembered. Glancing out the window at the bright sunshine that would be shine on his plants today, the young wizard wished he was out there. But he knew this task was necessary first.

'But I'm not going to spend hours scribbling on parchment with a quill,' he decided. He called his house elf and asked for muggle paper and biros – the wonderful muggle ink pens that he'd used for making notes and writing drafts before he'd lost his mind with pureblood stuff and nonsense this year.

'I can draft a good letter and then write individual letters using paper and pens,' he decided. ' And there won't be a service for Gran – for Augusta Longbottom – she's already cremated.'

With paper and pen, Neville set to work making a list of things to apologise for and a list of people. He decided, ' I'll have to send Lucy to Diagon Alley to rent owls to deliver all these letters.'

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Pomona Sprout

Throwing down the newspaper, Pomona spent several minutes cursing the soul of Albus Dumbledore before she rose to exit the small house and pull weeds from around her roses. The bushes needed to be pruned but with her current temper, the roses would have been butchered rather than pruned this morning.

'That lying fake pureblood,' Pomona thought. 'He never claimed to be pureblood but never took a strong position to support the half-bloods and muggleborn. And now they're all gone. Can we even keep the school open with just the purebloods? We need that money from the Queen's purse…always have.'

Professor Sprout kept her own counsel in the school year after she figured out what her muggleborn students were planning. And Pomona found she had no reason to dissuade them from leaving.

'I never spoke up…I wasn't brave enough to argue against letting them take the girls. Some of my badgers got taken and I never spoke up. I should have never come here.'

Thinking of her fiancé who died in the fight with Grindelwald, Pomona sighed, ' I wish I'd left after Paul was killed in 1944. I could have made a life in another magical society.'

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Bones Manor

There were loud voices expressing opinions about lies, lying relatives, embarrassment, and refusal to ever set foot in public again. Susan Bones swore to never forgive her aunt for lying about their blood status for all the years of her life.

"How am I supposed to face Hogwarts again? The purebloods will hate me!" declared Susan Bones.

"There aren't any purebloods to hate you," Amelia replied. "Everyone has been proved to not be pureblood."

"Then how can I face Hannah again! I was a bitch to her about her muddy mother."

Aghast to hear this, Amelia fussed, "Gwendolyn Abbott is the nicest witch who ever graced a witch's coven! Susan Marie Bones, why would you say something like that about the woman who helped raise you?"

"I was caught up in pureblood snobbery! Merlin, I sounded like Patsy Parkinson since the betrothal," Susan moaned. "Now, both Hannah and Neville hate me!"

"Neville needs a friend about now," Amelia told her niece. "Augusta wasn't his grandmother and now she's gone in that fire in the Wizengamot.

"Was she assassinated?" asked Susan. "Are you safe?"

"No, the Unspeakables say she had made a soul jar and when Dumbledore's collection of soul jars burned up, sympathetic magic set her device on fire."

"Really? She carried that nasty thing around with her?"

Nodding, Amelia explained Albus had at least four soul jars braided into his beard that caught fire. And she suggested they send a letter to Neville and invite him to visit for dinner.

"What about Hannah?"

"The Abbotts are going holiday. The office manager at his business said the family would be back in a fortnight.

"That's right. Her mother and dad were going to some magical place in France," Susan said. "I think the same place that Tracy and her family were going."

NOTE: Euro Disney opened outside Paris in April 1992.

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Harry Thinks About What to Do

The Wheel was quiet while Harry ate breakfast in the kitchen. Only Winky was visible this morning, but Harry figured either Dobby or Kreacher were not far away in case there was trouble somewhere that required elves to provide some protection services.

Harry was silent as he read the Daily Prophet and drank some tea. Winky and Hedwig had conspired to wait until their wizard had eaten most of his breakfast before the owl delivered the newspaper. Once he read the headline, Harry's full attention was on the article and photographs depicted in the paper.

The breakfast dishes were banished to the sink, washed and put away quickly. Winky kept the bacon dish filled for Hedwig while Harry read about the fires and dark spirits in the well of the Wizengamot.

'So, sympathetic magic is real. Yeah?' Harry thought. 'I gotta ask the goblins about that. Do I tell 'em about the ISI ritual?'

Only a moment passed before he affirmed his earlier decision, 'No!'

Sitting back, Harry Potter wished he had an adult wizard or witch he could trust and talk to about the challenges in his life while changes took place around him. Later that morning, after reading letters from Ironstream about the Secret Magic Users hiding the knowledge of the rituals to make a horcrux and to restore a spirit to a golem with the Fidelius charm, and a more pleasant letter from Seamus Finnigan about tutors, Harry looked up at the portraits of Charlus and Dorea Potter again.

'I should give them a try…a chance,' he decided hopeful of a good result.

Calling Winky and getting all three elves joining him in the library, Harry explained his plan to speak to the portraits. Kreacher said, "Miss Dorea Black eloped with Mr Charlus Potter and displeased her daddy, but he loved his daughter and blessed the marriage later. Not like cousins Euphemia who saids that Dorea stupids to go just for love withouts a betrothals contracts."

"So, Dorea was a cousin of my grandmother?"

"Yes. That's what Kreacher says."

"And how was Charlus kin to Fleamont?" he asked, but the elves shrugged and suggested that Mr Harry Potters-Black wake up the portraits and ask to them.

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Greeting Charlus and Dorea Potter

There was not much preparation needed in the lounge; Winky popped a teapot, cup and tray on the table beside Harry's chair, and the landscape painting was placed at eye-level with a seated Harry. Then the elves moved to the hallway to hear but not be seen, and then the wizard pushed some of his magic into the two portraits but not the landscape.

Like the portraits of his grandparents, Charlus and Dorea stirred and appeared to take a moment to adjust to being portraits after having been alive. They greeted each other and looked around their room, spotted Harry seated lower near their landscape painting, so they tried to move and found themselves locked inside their frames.

Disappointed not to be together, the couple didn't protest aloud.

"Good day, I'm Charlus Potter and this lovely lady is my wife, Dorea Black," the wizard said in greeting. "Might I know your name?'

"Call me Harry."

"You look like a combination of Potter and Black blood," commented Dorea, noting the boy wasn't forthcoming with his full name. "Did my cousin produce a child who merged the genes of Potters and Blacks?"

"Yes, Fleamont and Euphemia had one son they named James."

When the boy didn't volunteer more information, Charlus asked, "What is today's date?"

"It is the 26th of June 1996."

"Forty years!" exclaimed Dorea. "We fell sick in May 1956 and updated our portraits before becoming gravely ill."

"There is much we need to catch up on. Can you provide newspapers?" asked Charlus. "We can read newspapers if an elf can help us, and we can visit other portraits."

Shaking his head, Harry was empathic, "No! There'll be no visiting other portraits. This place is secret and secure. And if an elf turns the pages of the newspaper for you, you cannot give them orders."

Harry watched the couple exchanged glances, but they did not appear to be plotting. Dorea asked, "Since it is late June, this must be your summer holiday. Have you run away from home? Where are your parents? Are they looking for you?"

"I don't have parents."

"What about your magical guardian?"

Scoffing, Harry replied, "Judas Goat McGonagall was worthless as my head of house and the headmaster was worse as my magical guardian."

Dorea frowned and made several conclusions – Harry had run away from his parents or guardians and was hiding. There probably was a young witch involved and plans for a summer tryst.

She turned to husband and asked, "Charlus, didn't you try something like this when you were a teenager? I heard your brother tell the tale about you running away from home and setting up a love nest in a vacant Potter property."

"Yes, and when Fleamont caught me, he ran straight to Father and got me in trouble with him and Mother," Charlus admitted. "When we were alone, Father congratulated me for becoming a man but suggested that I be more discrete next time."

Turning their attention back to the teenager, Charlus asked, "Harry, I was fifteen once-upon-a-time and remember chasing different girls. They are wonderful when you catch one but don't get permanently entangled with a witch who's not going to be a good partner for your life."

He glanced at his wife, smiled, and said, "When the perfect witch comes along, she'll make it worth the wait."

"Now, let us out of these portrait frames, we'll find your parents and get this all worked out before dinner," Dorea said in a firm voice.

"Who taught you how to confine magical portraits to a single frame, anyway?" asked Charlus.

The couple looked at the teenager who bore an expression that was a combination of disappointment and resignation. He waved his hand and commanded, "Go back to sleep."

Before they could protest, Dorea and Charlus Potter fell back into the magical sleep that preserved the magic and copies of their personalities. Dobby walked into the room and asked for instructions.

Sitting back in his chair, Harry said, "Take both portraits and this magical landscape to Potter Manor. Put them on the wall in the gallery near the ballroom. Put the landscape near them. But don't wake them up."

"Yes, Mr Harry Potters-Blacks," Dobby replied before he popped away with the three magical paintings.

"Kreacher and Winky," the wizard called.

"Yes, Mr Harry Potters-Blacks?" asked Winky as she and Kreacher walked into the room from the hallway where they'd listened to the conversation.

"Are there regular paintings in vaults? Or in the manor house? Muggle paintings or posters?"

Winky said, "There be some paintings of faces and gardens in Manors House without magic."

"There be valuables paintings in Black Vaults that scare Sowsbreath if moved to house."

"I want new paintings in this room."

Dobby returned after ten more minutes and Harry continued with his instructions, "Are there any other magical paintings or portraits in this house?"

"Yes, there be magical paintings in three bedrooms where portraits can come and peek. Be one in nursery over cribs."

Frowning now, Harry asked, "Can you tell which portraits could get into them?"

"Dobby thinks only Charlus and Dorea Potters be able to slip into those frames."

"Take all magical paintings to Potter Manor and never let a magical painting come into this house," Harry replied firmly. "If a visitor ever tries to bring a magical painting inside, throw them and their painting out of the wards."

Dobby grinned and popped away to complete another errand for his wizard.

Picking up the tea tray to carry back to the kitchen (and scandalizing Winky when she realized what her wizard had done), Harry decided that none of the adults would see him as an equal until he was older.

'How can I use that to my advantage?' he wondered. ' I'll just have to keep 'em out of the house until then.'

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