disclaimer: none of this is mine.
Ouroboros
A Harry Potter and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover
Year Two
Wards
A few nights after arriving home from school, Ouroboros uploaded himself to the warding scheme on Privet Drive, strengthening and fortifying it.
Of particular note is when the wards threw off a small intruder, most likely a gnome, house elf, or something like that.
Harry ignored it and continued working on his homework.
Impulse
Harry's first two weeks of vacation were otherwise uneventful; watching Dudley win the under-12 boxing tournament and his aunt and uncle gradually warming up to him again were the only highlights he could mark down.
True to form, his Uncle Gil dropped by and picked up Harry two weeks into his vacation. Back in Mid-Childa, Harold worked fervently into controlling the intricacies of his Device, to avoid a repeat of what happened last year, where a nonlethal shot had apparently caused a Hogwarts professor to spontaneously combust.
Barricaded
Upon Harry's return, he took the last few days before school term started off, playing with Dudley, pick-up games of football with his neighbors, and generally being a child. Heading over to Diagon Alley with Uncle Gil in the most discreet of manners helped out, too... but when the time came to enter the platform to Hogwarts, he found that something was in the way.
One Multi-Dimensional Lock spell later, and Harry with his Device found out that it was an enchanted bench. Throwing Ouroboros into the gap and commanding him to Phase Bolt the thing did the trick.
Thus, Harry found himself literally squeezed into a compartment with three of the Chasers from Gryffindor's Quidditch team - who were all fawning over him like he was the cutest thing ever, it really creeped him out while Ouroboros was chuckling at him.
It didn't help that every time the train hit a slight curve, his head would end up bouncing off either one girl's bosom or the other, to the girls' delight.
"You'll appreciate this in a few years, Boss," his Device said between laughs, and Harry thought that ending up not catching the train might have been a bit better than this.
Inconsistent
The moment Harold stepped into the Defense classroom, his sense of danger started to activate.
However, it quickly subsided as he found out that the teacher was - compared to the books he'd written - horribly incompetent and egotistical.
He thus took it upon himself to begin reading through the books and mark down every inconsistency he could find, to present it to the Headmaster before the Christmas holidays.
Genre Savvy
To a certain Severus Snape, the boy who called himself "Harold Graham" was proving to be an unexpected surprise - he may have looked like James Potter, but he had Lily Potter's attitude towards knowledge. He was performing very well in all subjects, usually a few points ahead or behind that Granger girl.
So when the time came that Harold asked him about how he was doing in the Halloween feast, the Potions professor smirked at him and said, "keep your level of work up; otherwise I may have to carve your heart out with a spoon".
The look on his face as understanding dawned on him was something worth sitting next to all those Muggles for, but he wouldn't tell anyone that.
Sadly, a few moments later, Filch would find his cat conveniently stoned, with ominous writing next to it.
"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Draco Malfoy gloated, and as he tried to make his villainous retreat, a random foot sticking out tripped him and sent him sprawling into a puddle of water.
Nobody noticed Harold Graham shrugging as he returned to the common room with his fellow Hufflepuffs, his mind on that screeching voice he heard shortly after Snape did his best Sheriff of Nottingham impression.
Flight
As Cedric Diggory's understudy, Harold was quickly showed the ropes about Quidditch. He proved to be a quick study, as when Cedric was the next victim petrified, it was Harry who would be the substitute for the match against Gryffindor, to the boy's despair.
Oddly enough, he could hear that screeching voice moments before Cedric was petrified.
The opposing team's Seeker was a Muggleborn named Sally-Anne Perks - and she was a prodigious flier, managing to outpace Harold around corners and with multiple projectiles heading their way.
Further complicating matters was that a Bludger seemed to be enchanted to always go after him - so he put it to his advantage and used it to play chicken with the Gryffindor beaters - the infamous Weasley twins.
He'd asked his teammates to score as much goals as they could, as with a Bludger after him, there'd be little chance for him to snag the Snitch.
Twenty exhausting minutes later, Harry was proven correct - Sally-Anne got the Snitch, but the Badgers still won 310-260.
Of particular note is the fact that when the match ended, each of the Gryffindor chasers grabbed Harry and put him in what they called a "sportsmanship hug".
Everyone had a laugh at the rapidly reddening Harry's expense, as he finally began to understand what was going on.
A Visitor in the Night
A flash of light and suddenly what appeared to be a House Elf was flung from the door of the second year boys' dorm in Hufflepuff.
A very angry Harold Graham was brandishing his wand at the doorway and his assailant, which had long since vanished.
Fried Chicken
Thanks to that outburst, Harry got himself a detention - working with the groundskeeper Hagrid.
He heard a spiel from the man about how his parents would have been mortified at his being in Hufflepuff, as the Potters were Gryffindors through and through, but at least it would be better than Slytherin...
"...and how would 'not being in Slytherin' be better?" Harry asked nonchalantly.
"Lot of 'em ended up as Dark Wizards," Hagrid explained.
"What is Dark wizardry anyway? The definition seems to be a bit too arbitrary for my taste," Harry continued, the side of him that was brought up with discussing politics with Uncle Gil seeping out.
"It's Dark if... oh, just ask Professor Dumbledore about it. He'd know."
"Yes, I plan to do just that, sir," Harry replied. "Oh, look, another dead rooster. Someone apparently misses fried chicken."
Harry made it to the dead bird first. "Manual strangulation. There are better ways to kill a bird, but why this one?"
Hagrid groaned. "Third one killed this week. At this rate I might have to keep my birds back at Hogsmeade."
"How about I track down your... cereal killer, sir?"
Hagrid chuckled. "Please do. I'll be a bit busy looking after the others here."
Toucan, Son of Sam (PART OF YOUR NUTRITIOUS BREAKFAST!)
Quidditch was cancelled.
Harry was thankful, as he did not want to play a game so high-risk as that without letting out his flying prowess or his experience with flight. He'd gone by being a prodigy for so long, anyway.
And as the Christmas holidays neared, Harry completed his big list of "inconsistencies" to give to Dumbledore. Hopefully they'd have someone halfway competent for the last few months of the term.
He was, sadly, nowhere near his objective: to find the cereal killer responsible for slaying Hagrid's roosters.
What he did find, was that the spiders usually camped out in the nooks and crannies of the Divination tower were high-tailing it.
As he picked one up, he used Ouroboros to start a mental link to it.
I do not mean you harm, little one.
Yet you speak the abomination's tongue.
That may be, but as of right now, I have no reason to harm you. Answer me this, why are you and your ilk leaving?
Aragog offers sanctuary from that abomination. It wakes and roams the halls, seeking food... someone has awakened it.
An abomination did this. Spiders dislike it, roosters are its weakness... what do these have in common?
He cut the link, and let the spider go, thinking all the while.
Tag Team
He found his rival in the library.
"Granger."
"Graham."
"I'm in a bit of a bind. I need some help."
"You? Help? I find that hard to believe."
Harold shrugged. "It's not academic, if that's what you're worried about. What's something that spiders hate, and is weak against a rooster?"
Hermione took a bit of a minute to think, then scrambled to the third-year section.
What followed was a wild melee that started near the entrance, crashed through two empty classrooms and three halls later until Hermione managed to stroke the spine of the Monster Book of Monsters.
"Only in Hogwarts would I meet a book I'd loathe," she muttered angrily as she dusted herself off. And as she picked up the book and leafed through its pages, she pointed to a huge, serpentine creature. "That's your guy. Basilisk."
"Thanks," Harold said, "this means we'll be serving our detentions together."
The Gryffindor girl fainted as soon as she saw the trail of destruction their rampaging book wrought.
Merry Christmas and Yippie-ki-yay!
True to form, Dumbledore sent Lockhart packing upon receiving the annotated version of his books. He decided on sending in an Auror named Emmeline Vance to finish the year teaching Defense.
Too bad the detention for that much damage to property lasted through the Christmas holidays, but at least Harold now knew what to do. He even had a conspirator in Hermione to find this basilisk and maybe return it to a better habitat, like that dragon.
When he called Uncle Gil about this, the TSAB official brooked no opposition and got himself on the first trip to Earth, bringing a creature containment team with him. One dog-and-pony show later, Gil used Blue Streak to interface with the school's wards, tracking the basilisk to a chamber accessible via a sink in the women's bathroom.
They volunteered to exorcise the ghost, but Myrtle just said she'd rather pass on when she'd finished her education.
One rather anticlimactic battle later, the basilisk was being hauled off by the Bureau and onto a planet suited for its unique physiology.
Of particular notice was a certain Weasley girl who was hit full-force with a Stinger Shot, knocking a diary out of her hands and into an Enforcer's.
The diary was brought to a certain Dr. Marion Radom in the TSAB research halls, and met a rather violent and explosive end as attempts to reprogram it failed. While it managed to enchant a low-level employee, liberal use of TSAB weaponry managed to free the employee. What followed was the first use of the L'arc-en-ciel class Matter Annihilation Beam on an enchanted object.
All's Well
The rest of the school year was uneventful. Miss Vance was a surprisingly skilled teacher, Harold got his grades up to his Uncle Gil's usual high standards, and it was yet another photo finish with him and that Granger girl.
Strangely, instead of being standoffish, the Graham boy offered his fist to the best student of the year, who answered back with a fist bump of her own.
Unfortunately, the recovery from Diggory's petrifaction would take the good part of the year, so Cedric named his understudy the Seeker for next year's Quidditch matches. Harry groaned at this.
Still, it was two years out of seven completed, and Harry couldn't wait to get home and tell his two families about how much fun he'd been having. He heard Dudley was getting to be quite the athlete, and he needed to see it for himself.
Plus, the sooner he'd get out of the Hogwarts express and the wandering hands of those Gryffindor Chasers (all three of them), the better.
Year Three
Strike Arts?
Harry Potter watched the under-15 boxing tournament finals with his aunt and uncle, and witnessed his cousin Dudley actually win - while way behind on points - with an epic knockout. The feat would be replicated on the world stage, but this time, a world title was on the line, but that's not relevant in this story.
As they left, Harry caught a glimpse of Admiral Graham, and waved. The admiral waved back. What was odd was that the Dursleys also saw him and waved as well.
The mystery of that remained on Harry's mind as they all returned home.
To battle...
Harry already knew most of Ouroboros' capabilities. As such, it was up to him to improve himself that he might not rely on his Device all the damn time. He went to Admiral Graham with this, and the TSAB official wholeheartedly agreed, getting his familiars to teach him a few Strike Arts for self-defense during the short time he'd spend with them.
Naturally, they didn't begrudge him spending most of his summer with his aunt, uncle and cousin, as they finally started treating Harry like a member of the family.
"Didn't know Strike Arts were that difficult," Harry said as he pulled himself from the ground and into another stance. "One more."
Aria and Lotte admired his tenacity, and thanks to that his aptitude for battle grew even more.
"Might I ask why you wish to learn hand-to-hand combat?" Graham had asked. "Is it because of your cousin?"
Harry shook his head. "I want to be able to defend myself even without a Device."
Graham nodded. "Know that this branch of fighting is Ancient Belkan in origin, and thus it may seem incongruous with your Device. Shall you continue?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, green eyes glowing with conviction.
It was with these very same eyes that he glared at his Aunt Marge.
Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and even Dudley were also glaring.
The only odd thing that happened after that was Aunt Marge tripping on one of the cobblestones and getting a chip knocked off one of her front teeth.
Dark Tidings
During the year's turn to head to Diagon Alley, it was the Admiral who accompanied Harry. The reason why would become apparent soon - in the Alley, headlines everywhere blared the escape of infamous criminal Sirius Black.
The visit itself didn't raise up a fuss, except for the part where Harry insisted on grabbing the Monster Book of Monsters firsthand and stroking its spine - he wasn't going to allow a repeat of last year's incident with that Granger girl.
Raw Power
"The Ministry's going to send Dementors," Cedric Diggory said as he chatted with Harry as they waited for the initial rush of passengers to subside, and tapped his cane while they waited a little longer. "Wish I was spry enough to keep on as a Prefect, but that's life."
"Well, the mandrake treatments will be complete around Christmas, so you can go back to Prefecting and Seeking and doing all those other Sixth Year things you do, Mr. Diggory," Harry observed. "After you?"
He assisted the injured Seeker in getting his things into the train, and was about to move to where his bags were being looked after by a fellow Hufflepuff when-
POWER.
A gigantic surge of power burst from the civilian side of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters - and it felt familiar.
Admiral! Harry thought, and when he ran out into King's Cross, there was nothing he could see - only the smell of ozone and stray bursts of magic here and there.
Harry was about to try and see what was going on when the train signaled its departure - he quickly got onto the Express before he'd be left behind...
...and he ended up in the Gryffindor Chasers' compartment. Again.
By the time he emerged from it, even Hedwig was tittering at his condition.
Cedric quickly saw his Seeker and slowed down, catching up with him.
"Gryffindor Chasers?" he asked, and Harry nodded.
"Handkerchief?" he asked again, and Harry gratefully took the offered piece of cloth, wiping the lip balm from his face before anyone else could see and put two plus two together.
New Introductions
Harry mostly spent the opening speech and sorting in a daze, maybe due to the fact that a lot of his classmates were in a bit of a funk due to the Dementors passing by.
He would later learn from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that he had conveniently avoided the Dementors' impromptu inspection due to being squeezed in a compartment with the Gryffindor chasers, and their joy as they fawned over Harry kept the creatures away.
Who knew.
His green eyes went back into focus as Headmaster Dumbledore began introducing the new teachers.
"...due to Bathsheda Babbling taking an annual sabbatical to Dun Scaith Castle to conduct her research project on Ancient Runes, she has appointed her understudy to take over for this school year: please meet Penthesilea Pennyworth, your new professor in Study of Ancient Runes, and also assisting Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary..."
Harry couldn't hear the Headmaster due to the hooting and hollering from nearly the entire male student body, everyone from fourth year onward as well as a few of the younger ones. He could make out his acquaintances from Gryffindor and his fellow year-mates in Hufflepuff reduced to dreamlike staring at their new professor.
And why not? He could see that Professor Pennyworth was really, really beautiful.
And her welcome speech revealed that she also had a husky, confident voice that reduced the male student body to sighing like lovestruck girls.
That was when her red eyes met his.
It was one of the moments where Harry Potter (Graham) felt that he was completely exposed, defenseless, and at the professor's mercy, much like a frog pinned to a dissection table.
After what felt like an eternity, the moment passed by, and Harry was once again looking at the new professor thanking the headmaster for the opportunity, and that she was looking forward to this year, hoping to return if she did a good enough job.
Did you see that? Tom whispered to him.
A bead of cold sweat ran down Harry's brow as he gave his Device the mental affirmative.
Avoiding Overwork
Shortly after the start of term party, Harry's head of House gathered the third years for a meeting.
"...since next year will be the halfway point between your first and last years in Hogwarts, it is my duty as your head of House to inform you that for the first few weeks, your academic schedule will be duly modified while you select the electives that will ultimately decide your future. But worry not - as there will be a lot of help available you can use to make the best possible decision. Each House has their own way of doing this, and OUR way is for you to consult your teachers and upperclassmen."
Soon after the meeting, Harry walked over to a corner of their house's Common Room, where Cedric Diggory was reading through applications.
"Well, there's one thing that doesn't change," he muttered, turning when he heard Harry enter. "Ah, Graham. Good to see you. Are you here to ask for some help about what courses to study?"
Harry shrugged.
"Might as well play to my strengths," he replied, pointing towards several subjects. "Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, and Ancient Runes."
The Prefect sniffed disdainfully. "I see even YOU are not immune to Professor Pennyworth's charms," he said with a knowing grin.
The wriggling feeling in Harry's gut returned as he recalled the otherworldly beauty, ethereal voice, and extremely dangerous red eyes.
"I asked around and they said Divination was not worth investing time in," Harry replied.
"Dementors getting to you, Harry?" Cedric asked. "You look like you've been seeing ghosts as of late."
The third-year Hufflepuff just shook his head. "Yes... maybe it's the Dementors."
"I suggest you head over to Professor Lupin and let him check it out."
The breath Harry didn't know he was holding let itself out and his shoulders went slack.
"You're right, Mr. Diggory. I'm going to him after this."
As he walked away from the Prefect, Harry's mind was made up.
You're going to try and expose the Ancient Runes professor, won't you?
I don't even know if I should. If I can, Harry added, or if I can survive it.
Why not go and ask her directly?
Are you off your rocker?
You have me. And the protections Hogwarts has around it will not allow a professor to harm her student.
Harry just sighed.
Hope you're right, Tom... there's just something about Professor Pennyworth that feels wrong. Like the shadows she makes are... darker.
I wouldn't know. But let's play this one safe, right?
To Harry's relief, no other incidents of the sort happened during his Ancient Runes classes... maybe it was because he had Ouroboros interface with his robes as a sort-of Barrier Jacket, and that let him keep a low profile.
Defense and Offense
The Defense Professor for this year was a decent fellow named Remus Lupin. Because of that, Harry found that Defense was actually a very engaging class: it had a lot of overlap with Hagrid's own.
Speaking of Hagrid, he also started teaching: Care of Magical Creatures - given Harry's acquaintance with the gamekeeper / professor, the class went without a hitch.
Ouroboros translating animal thought to speech and vice versa helped greatly, especially when that idiot Malfoy decided to make a monkey of himself in front of a prideful hippogriff.
Sure enough, Harry put himself in the spotlight again when he stopped Malfoy from getting injured with a gesture and a very Oriental bow to the beast. After whispering something while reassuring it with a few rubs along its feathered head, he nodded at the one named Buckbeak, and all was okay.
Except what Harry actually said was that he promised he'd make Malfoy bow to Buckbeak, but he asked the hippogriff for some time before he could make that happen.
Trouble (Power Rangers, not Coldplay)
The year continued to go uneventfully, even with the Dementors around patrolling for an apparent escaped criminal.
"The Prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius Black!" Harry heard Ronald Weasley saying as stories were traded around the holiday table.
"I don't know, sounds a lot like the Count of Monte Cristo to me," Harry demurred, and Hermione Granger shrugged. Some of the other students at the table asked about the fictional Count, and Harry obliged by giving them a synopsis of the story as the food arrived.
As another helping of holiday food was passed around, Harry suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force... and was quickly proven correct as the three Gryffindor Chasers took up seats beside him.
What followed was perhaps the most awkward holiday dinner Harry Potter ever had.
Even the back-to-Seeking-form Cedric had to appreciate the way those three... ate, and Harry's face had long since gone red, wishing he'd vanish from the table entirely and head back to the Common Room.
Thankfully, Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's Office after the meal. On the way, he reminded himself to pack extra handkerchiefs - all that lip balm on his face was starting to get annoying.
When he got there, he got the second shock of the school year, as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was speaking with Admiral Virgil Graham.
"There's been an outbreak of the plague in the outskirts of Hogsmeade," Graham said smoothly. "We've been rounding up the rats and mice and either immunizing or neutralizing them. Do you have any students with pet rats or mice?"
"Only one," Dumbledore said. "Ronald Weasley, from Gryffindor."
"Please have him bring his pet to us," the admiral replied. "The plague is a more virulent strain than the one you had a few centuries ago."
"Of course, of course. Harry," the headmaster said. "I am sure you know Mr. Potter, or Mr. Graham, as he calls himself."
"Yes," the admiral said. "I had him take up my name to protect himself from the publicity."
"Very thoughtful of you."
"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry, I came here to drop off a few gifts. Here is one."
Graham gave Harry a brand-new Firebolt and a wand holster, and the thirteen-year-old's expression lit up.
"Thank you, sir."
"You are most welcome, Harry. I am sure your friends are waiting for you."
"By your leave, Headmaster. Mr. Graham," Harry said, and off he went downstairs, thinking, why would the Admiral do such a thing...?
He was already sandwiched between the Gryffindor chasers when the thought of asking Admiral Graham about the first day of classes and that big burst of magic returned to him. What happened was that his sudden Eureka moment was spoiled as he lost his balance and went headfirst into Katie Bell's chest, earning a lot of giggling, laughter, and several mutterings of "lucky bastard" from the Gryffindor table.
For Your Protection
After Harry had a run-in with the Dementors while planning Malfoy's comeuppance, he was called by Professor Lupin for some remedial Defense classes.
"You need to learn a spell that will protect you from those beings," he explained, and Harry agreed. The dementors seemed to move closer to him during their patrols around the castle, and he was just about to tell the headmaster about it.
"Headmaster Dumbledore asked you to teach me, did he not?" Harry asked, and Lupin nodded. "It's not everyday that one gets to teach the son of his friends."
Lupin's face grew pained, and Harry gave a sagely nod as if that solved a puzzle in his mind.
"What spell are we talking about?"
Remus Lupin pointed his wand and made the incantations.
"Expecto Patronum!" he bellowed, and a white wolf appeared.
Harry let out a low whistle.
"Wicked," he said, awe in his voice. "How do I do it?"
Thus began a series of classes where he was taught to harness the good memories to help him cast the spell better. Unfortunately, when he finally got it...
Property Damage
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled out loud, noticing that as he cast the spell, Ouroboros intervened, and that the entire process was beginning to drain his Linker Core of energy at a heretofore-unprecedented rate.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM," Ouroboros intoned as the spell finished...
...and the vacant classroom collapsed as after a massive surge of magical energy, a large white streak flew out of the wreckage and hovered right out the window.
When Remus Lupin opened his eyes after shielding himself from the blast, he could not believe what he saw.
"What in Merlin's name...?"
Harry could only look at the creature he cast in awe, as most of his Strike Arts training had taken place in Alzas, where his teachers Aria and Lotte had come into contact with the Ru Lushe tribe. Halfway through his training, the chieftain of the Ru Lushe had set him aside and asked him a rather difficult question.
"Why do you want to be strong?"
He took a few moments to think before answering.
"I want to be strong to protect the people important to me, sir."
The chieftain frowned.
"Is that wrong, sir?" Harry asked.
That was when the dragon descended, and though its eyes could not be seen, Harry felt like the dragon was sizing him up.
Then the dragon nodded, and flew away.
"Voltaire approves," the elder said before leaving a very confused Harry behind.
And Harry Potter looked in awe as a smaller, white copy of the dragon called Voltaire gazed down upon him, folding its arms and nodding.
Remus could hear the Dementors' receding shrieks even as he couldn't believe what he was seeing.
Unfortunately that little stunt cost Harry a ton of house points due to the unused classroom being leveled.
Future Possibilities
While serving his detention, Harry was thinking about his Patronus Charm.
My Patronus isn't the kind of spell I'll cast willy-nilly, he told Ouroboros. Even with you managing my Linker Core, ugh. It laid me out flat.
I'm sorry, Harry. I thought your Patronus would be something simple, like an animal from our world. I did not expect that it would take the shape of the Guardian Dragon of Alzas.
I know, and did you hear what happened? The Dementors won't even want to come near this place any more!
Indeed. It is as if your potential for unintentional mischief has gone up significantly.
But are there ways to conserve my power? I want to be able to summon a Patronus without exhausting myself.
There is a way... but we have to go to the Admiral and make our request there. I think we won't have a problem until the school year ends, though... let's put it on the back burner for now.
You got it, Tom.
Hijinks Ensue
Hours after the "exploding classroom incident" or what the student body called what happened, Harry found himself talking to a pair of notorious Gryffindors: the Weasley Twins.
Given that he didn't particularly LIKE the young Malfoy, and that he still had a promise on Buckbeak's account, he went to the infamous pranksters for some help.
"I need help; I need to take Draco Malfoy down a peg or two," he said, and the twins were immediately on deck.
"What do you need us to do?" they asked in unison.
Consequences
The two masked and disguised Gryffindors marveled at the sight: a large white dragon hovering behind Harold Graham as he pointed his wand at Draco Malfoy's throat.
"I didn't want to do this, but I'm calling in the debt you owe me," he said in a calm voice that chilled the Slytherin to the core. "If you want to tell your father, fine. I'm going to tell him I saved your hide from a hippogriff you thoughtlessly insulted, and this is me collecting that debt..."
Harry did his greatest Admiral Graham impression and hovered close to the shivering Third Year's face.
"...and that since this is a matter of personal and family honor, YOUR FATHER WILL TAKE MY SIDE."
Draco's eyes widened.
"It's a simple matter and will be done in no time," he said, motioning to his two disguised accomplices. "Open the garage door."
The Weasleys did, and within Hagrid's garage... was Buckbeak the hippogriff.
After shutting the door behind them, Draco Malfoy found himself being frog-marched to the beast, who was giving him a curious look.
"Now, to consider this matter settled," Harry said, before poking Draco in the small of his back, "kneel."
Draco knelt.
"Oh... and apologize, too. Buckbeak here can understand human speech. And he knows when you're being insincere."
The Walk Back
"See, that wasn't so tough," Harry said as they were returning to the castle. "Were you scared?"
Draco tried to keep a brave face but the fear was in his eyes.
"This is what your dad is trying to teach you," he said absently as they took to the trail. "Power isn't being able to boss people around, though there are some people who you can only get to with that. You gotta make people want to do what you want them to do. Help them help you. That's what Uncle Gil keeps telling me."
"When my father..."
"...when your father hears about this, I will beat you to him and give him an impartial accounting of everything that has happened," Harry replied, cutting off Draco's rant, "about how you did a really dumb thing about insulting a hippogriff to its face - a hippogriff that you didn't know at the time could understand human speech - even when our instructor specifically said not to."
"Are you taking that... that man's side?"
"Should that matter?"
"Of course!" Draco exclaimed. "He's no pureblood."
Harry let out a snort.
"Do you want me to let you in on a little secret, Draco Malfoy?" Harry Graham asked, before he leaned in to Draco Malfoy's ear and whispered a phrase.
Draco's eyes widened in surprise before he let out a laugh; he finally started understanding.
Let's Face the Facts
A few weeks later, Harry found himself being tasked to assist Cedric Diggory in his Prefect duties: namely, jotting down notes for Professor Sprout during a Monday faculty meeting.
"I see that Lupin is having his time of the month," Snape said, but whatever he was going to venture was cut short as Professor Pennyworth literally pinned him to the wall with a glare.
"Thank you, Severus," she said, "but I already talked to the Headmaster about it. If it is a small consolation to you, you can assist me when I start up the Dueling Club again."
Harry saw the very same fear he had in his Potions professor's eyes, and the very same bead of cold sweat on his brow. "Yes... yes indeed. Lockhart had the right idea, but couldn't manage a classroom full of children, let alone a dueling club."
Pennyworth nodded.
"To prepare for the start of the club, I am going to continue taking at least half an hour off each morning class. These children don't just need a sound magic and mind."
"Good luck trying to get them to exercise," Madam Pomfrey said, getting the point immediately.
"I have my ways," Pennyworth replied enigmatically.
Sure enough, the very next morning, everyone - mostly male, mostly fourth year and up, with a smattering of third years - were lined up to see their Ancient Runes professor in what Harry knew to be a spandex exercise outfit.
Her voice carried easily through the meadow outside the castle proper.
"Good to know a lot of you young folk have your priorities straight," she said. "What we'll do today is simple. Just jog for how far your body can take you. If you want a challenge, try to keep up with me. Upperclassmen, assist the lower years - the infirmary will be open this early should any of you be injured. We'll warm up for now, then proceed after that. How many of you know basic stretching exercises...?"
Sure enough, when Professor Pennyworth began stretching, everyone paid attention.
Even the newly-returned to Quidditch form Cedric had to appreciate the spectacle before them.
And the first day of exercise finished with no injuries, except for a lot of exhausted students, who found out that their Ancient Runes professor was a lot more fit than they expected.
A Scarlet Clue
Later that day, the "thing" Harry found out while taking notes for his head of house was Professor Pennyworth substituting in the Defense class due to Professor Lupin's "monthly thing", whatever that was.
That wasn't the strangest event of the day, as Pennyworth was well-versed in the dark arts and how to defend against them, making a particularly difficult lesson on containing Boggarts easy. The muggleborn contingent of their class even laughed out loud when she gave the nickname "Humphrey" to one of the Boggarts she used, much to the confusion of the purebloods...
...when the Boggart turned to her, it took the form of a man in blue with red eyes like hers, impaled by a red spear through the heart...
...and she sent Humphrey flying back into the cupboard with a Riddikulus charm so powerful that even the front row of students were pushed back.
Later that afternoon, in the Ancient Runes class, Professor Pennyworth gave no outward sign of being disturbed at her Boggart, and business carried on as usual. When she gave her assignment of depictions of rune sequences, few were able to answer... except Hermione Granger.
Professor Pennyworth's eyes momentarily softened the moment Granger said something about "Atton Gorra, the four runes used by Ireland's Child of Light, Coo Hullan".
What's 'atton gorra'?
It's spelled "a-t-h n-g-a-b-l-a", Harry. That Granger girl knows her history.
Wait... don't you notice anything? The mood around Professor Pennyworth lightened when Granger mentioned that Child of Light person.
It's also spelled "c-u c-h-u-l-a-i-n-n", Harry. I know, I know. Irish names are more confusing to spell than French. Speaking of Irish, don't you notice? Your Professor Pennyworth can hide it all she wants, but her Irish accent is definitely there. I dare say it, her accent is more pronounced than Professor McGonagall, or even Hagrid.
You're right. She speaks very... musically.
Exactly. Why don't you call him Professor Hagrid, by the way?
You and I both know he's a placeholder until someone better comes along or he grows into the position.
After sharing a laugh with his Device and making a mental note about their professor's odd behavior, Harry continued listening in to the class.
More Proof
The Weasleys were so amazed at how quickly Draco was put to heel, that soon after Harry's favor, they sought him out and presented him with an artifact they called the Marauder's Map.
"We're going to cash in on that favor of yours, Harry," they said. "The map's malfunctioning. Normally it puts out names, and actions, but when we decided to do some snooping around during the Dueling Club meeting, a small part around it gets scrambled - mind looking for the thing for us? We'd prefer to have someone on the inside for us. Oh - and you can also keep the map."
"Thanks," Harry said.
So, you think it's our beautiful Ancient Runes professor, Tom?
Sucker bet, he replied. Let me interface with the Map and see.
Discovery
It was very close to the end of the school year when Harry's plot was discovered.
Ironically, it happened during the last Dueling Club meeting: Harold Graham versus Bridget Herbert.
(As an aside, because Harry straightened out Draco Malfoy with the hippogriff matter, the two got into a much more intense battle in the Dueling Club. Draco lost, but still put up a hell of a fight.)
Bridget was the standout Slytherin duelist, much to Malfoy's chagrin - she was the one he was aiming to beat this year, and if all things would proceed as usual next year, he'd learn from his father while school was out and topple her from her perch as their house's brightest when the Dueling Club started again next year.
But during this meeting, Harry dueled like a different person entirely. After he learned what that Onishi kid called the 'hirazuki' stance, Harry started going on a winning streak, and the duel with Bridget was no exception. Despite limiting himself to the knockback jinx, disarming charm and banishing charm, Harry won easily.
One professor had her red eyes glowing as she saw the proceedings, and made a mental note to see what this Graham child could really do, when pushed to a corner.
Would he be the hero that she was searching for in this school these long years?
Disruption
"Your test results aren't the best," Pomona Sprout declared as Harry sat, dejected, in her office. "It's a good thing your midterms were close to perfect, otherwise this would drag you down."
He didn't respond.
Pomona sighed.
"Please tell me what's wrong," she said.
Dull green eyes looked back at her.
"Sir Clyde," he whispered. "He's dead."
"Oh my," the professor responded, wrapping up her student in a hug. "I am sorry."
The dam broke, and Harry started breaking down. "I never had the chance to thank him. For all he's done for me. Who's going to take care of Miss Lindy and baby Chrono? What will I do? ...what can I do?"
Professor Sprout just held the boy until he cried his eyes out.
"Oh, Harry," she said. "If you told me you were in mourning, I would have asked the Headmaster to give you some time off then take your exams again."
"...you can do that?"
"As your head of house? Sure." She ruffled his hair. "You don't know this, Harry, but you ARE one of Hufflepuff House's best students. And we're not going to jeopardize your future just because you weren't at your best when you took the year-end exams."
"Thank you," he said, smiling at the Professor despite the tears in his eyes and the sorrow on his face.
Prelude
"Poor boy," Pomona said during the faculty meeting. "A death in his family and he soldiered on his exams despite the fact. Graham's a good kid. It would be a shame if we didn't fix this."
Snape shrugged. He knew who Graham really was, but he was still a bit apprehensive about giving the boy special treatment... especially after he wiped the floor with his house's best duelist a week ago. "Do we have any precedent set for retaking exams due to bereavement?"
"Several," the Headmaster declared. "I see no reason not to give Harold Graham another chance. But we will have to be discreet, as I am sure Mr. Graham does not want his circumstances to be known. Who shall volunteer to give him the end-of-term exams once more?"
Pennyworth raised her hand.
"I'll do it," she said, red eyes shining. "And I have just the place to hold his remedial exams in."
As soon as Dumbledore gave his approval, she gave a smile that reminded the Headmaster of the Mona Lisa as the faculty meeting went to other matters quickly.
Confrontation
"...and that's the last of them," Harry said as he gave the parchment to Professor Pennyworth. That long weekend off the school allowed him due to bereavement cleared Harry's head and let him both grieve accordingly and take another look at his notes for the end-of-year exams.
He could even see a ghost of a smile pass by the Ancient Runes professor's lips the moment he made good on his promise to take all the exams within one day.
"Let's hand these in. There is still one subject I have yet to test you on, though... meet me here after half an hour."
Her head leaned towards his, and she whispered in Harry's ear.
"Bring your friend with you."
Green eyes widened.
She knows!
And when he turned, the professor was gone.
Forget about the foreplay. We're screwed.
Should we go to the professors?
She has plausible deniability. Not us.
Remind me, who had the great idea to enroll under Admiral Graham's name again?
Point. What should we do?
Half an hour. There's a lot we can do in half an hour.
Harry ran to an unused classroom.
Once there, he shut the door, sank to the ground, and started hyperventilating.
What do we do, what do we do, what do we do, what do we do?!
Calm down, Harry! You freaking out is starting to get to me. I need to think.
What should we do, Tom? Professor Pennyworth is DANGEROUS. She makes Professor Dumbledore look like a harmless old man in comparison. Remember the feast?
I do, Harry, I do. And yes, she makes my nonexistent skin crawl even more than Dumbledore or Grindelwald used to do.
They spent the next few minutes, silent, waiting for Harry's breathing to slow.
I got a dumb idea, Tom. We're going to fight her.
What?!
She has us. And she said she wants to test us. If she wanted us dead, she had every chance to.
You're going to take what she says at face value?
Well, we can't go and tell everyone, right?
If we do, she'll tell them about US, and we'd be in much more trouble than it's worth confronting her... Harry, I think you may be onto something here.
So how do we go about it?
Save me from my nonexistent Gryffindor-ish tendencies coming to the forefront... okay, Harry. This is what we'll do.
Within the Room of Hidden Things
True to form, the Ancient Runes professor was waiting for Harry at the fourth floor, across the classroom where he took his remedial exams.
"I have no illusion that your examination results will be much better than when you first took them, Harold," the professor said as she took the stairs, the student following. "I asked Professor Lupin for a favor, that I be the one to do the practical test for Defense on his behalf. Worry not, I have forgotten more things than people remember, and he's sleeping off his time of the month in a room in the basement."
Werewolf, Tom said.
Does it matter? Harry asked.
"The collar I put on him allows him to retain his mind when transformed. It was but a small pittance for the good work he's done for the year, and a good word from him for when I plan to teach Defense next year."
As they stepped onto the seventh floor, Harry could not help but ask.
"Why are you telling me these things?"
Red eyes bored into green ones as Harry's Ancient Runes professor gave her answer.
"Because the currents of fate are beginning to move. Be wary you do not get swept away by them."
The two of them entered into what looked like a really large Roman arena.
I have a bad feeling about this.
When even you are starting to quote Star Wars, Tom, I know it's really bad.
As soon as Harry turned around, his professor was nowhere to be seen.
He rolled to the side as he saw something red appear out of the corner of his eye, his Barrier Jacket activating immediately.
As soon as they turned to see the source, Mage and Device both gaped at what they saw, as their Ancient Runes professor had ditched the "office lady under robes" outfit and was now in a sleek, figure-hugging bodysuit, a red spear in her hands.
Harry barely had the time to shout "Ouroboros!" before the first thrust came, which was batted aside by a desperate swipe from his staff.
The next thrust didn't come, and both Harry and Tom managed to catch their breath long enough to take in the details of their opponent: their professor was now wearing a purple veil, with golden pauldrons on her shoulders, along with the bodysuit and spear.
If Harry was one or two years older he would have appreciated the way the bodysuit fit, but at the moment, he and Ouroboros were locked onto those piercing red eyes.
"Tell me," she began, "why are you carrying Tom Riddle's essence with you, Harry Potter?"
The green orb on the end of Harry's Device glowed.
"Give us your true name, Professor, and you shall have our answer. Quid pro quo," Ouroboros intoned.
She could feel the fear the two were emitting, but the way they stood their ground was admirable.
"It seems you do not remember who taught you Ancient Runes here as well, Tom," she replied, her stance loosening a bit. "I find it pitiable that you lost your way during fifth year. My door was open, but you did not choose to walk through it, thinking that your path to perdition was already set."
Ouroboros blinked rapidly in surprise.
"Professor Lemongrass? No... if you're Professor Pennyworth... and Lemongrass from when I was once here..."
She smiled.
"Initiating Emergency Protocols. CVK-702 has been system unlocked. Ouroboros Myriad activated."
A burst of energy erupted from Harry's Device and when the dust settled, Harry found himself wielding Ouroboros, which had now taken the form of a halberd.
Harry, I want you to fight like you've never fought before. She's going to kill us.
Wait, what do you mean?
You don't know your mythology? We're fighting a living legend right now!
His first few swings went wide, and the 'professor' dodged them with ease.
What living legend?!
Just shut up and try to defeat her!
After a telegraphed swing that called forth a flurry of Phase Bolts, Harry MOVED. Using Ouroboros to increase his speed, he went in from the side while his opponent was swatting away the projectiles, and he struck... only to find that the hardened blade of concentrated magical energy was being held between two fingers by the frightening woman.
"Promising," she whispered, "but weak!"
It was HER turn to move, as a red spear that hadn't been there before appeared in her left hand, too.
Panicked, Harry switched into Action mode and fired off a flurry of buckshot in his opponent's face to try and get away.
Though the shot hit straight and true, out from the smoke of the blast came a red edge aiming for the heart... and barely missed Harry by a hair.
She emerged unscathed, and amused.
"Weak," she said. "Still weak. But making progress. You're not feeling the effects of my killing intent anymore. A far cry from where you were last year... Harry Potter. And, of course, his... artifact: Tom Riddle."
"The designation is Device," Ouroboros replied. "And I have to ask aloud what the Witch of Dun Scaith is doing, teaching in a school full of children."
Harry's eyes widened. Witch of Dun Scaith? Tom, you're not saying that she's...
...Scathach.
We are currently fighting for our life against Scathach.
"...at least you've managed to find your way back, Tom," the Witch said with a genuine smile. "Now, if you want to leave this room alive, SHOW ME YOUR POWER!"
No more words were spoken.
None were needed.
Ambition's Aftermath
It was a tired and worn-out Harold Graham that staggered out of what they now knew as the Room of Hidden Things, their 'professor' (that was the Witch of Dun Scaith in disguise, who knew) helping them to the infirmary.
"My word!" Madam Pomfrey said as soon as she saw Harry and the professor enter. "You weren't TOO rough on him, were you, Penny?"
"Nothing Mr. Graham can't handle," she replied with an easy smile. "He's just exhausted and needs some rest. Oh, and he passed the practical. An easy 'O' for him."
"Glad to know that. I will notify his Head of House immediately."
Harry could not object as he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
The trip home was sobering.
When he showed the Marauder's Map to Professor Lupin, he gave Harry a knowing wink, but was a bit surprised at the static around Professor Pennyworth's name.
...However, when Harry looked at it, the name clearly read "Scathach".
It must be because we are the only ones who know her secret, Tom said.
She'll be teaching Defense next year too, Harry added. We've got to get stronger. Much stronger.
It's her warning that worries me more, Tom said after they got into the Hogwarts Express. Is she talking about the Dark Lord or something else?
We'll just cross that bridge when we get to it, Harry said, his expression resolute as he looked out the window of his solo compartment watching the scenery fly by.
Notes: Yes, I turned the Gryffindor chasers into Harry's very own trio of ara-ara onee-sans. No, I am not sorry.
