Disclaimer: This chapter was written... with the help of KYOJI!
OUROBOROS
A Harry Potter and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover
Year 6, Part 3
An Ordinary Hogsmeade Weekend 2: Electric Boogaloo
If this was the Old West, I think this is what one of those high noon showdowns would feel like, Harry told his Device. What kind of idiot would order his would-be minions to do such a high-profile thing?
The kind of idiot who partitioned his soul seven times.
Harry sighed.
"Do you need to do it now or do you need time to pull it off?" he asked.
"Does that mean you're going to help me?" Draco asked back, but Harry shook his head. "Or is your loyalty to Dumbledore leading you to betray me despite your promise to my father?"
For a moment, the entire pub's eyes were at them, as Harry pounded the table with his palms as he stood up.
"Draco," he said, menace tinging his words, "let me be absolutely clear to you about one thing."
Once everyone went back to minding their own business, Harry sat back down.
"The only allegiance I have that I will not break under any circumstances is my allegiance to Hogwarts. That is all, and nothing more."
"But my father…"
"Your father knows this, and he asked for my help anyway. He also told me… if possible, I should keep you from joining that little club of hooligans."
Draco's eyes widened in surprise and outrage, but with the intensity of Harry's gaze, he stopped short, and just slumped on his seat as he took another swig of butterbeer.
Several minutes of uncomfortable silence passed between them as Harry and Draco processed what the other told them.
"I think I have a plan," Harry said at last. "The first thing you need to do is ask the Death Eaters for more time. There isn't anything happening at Hogwarts right now, so anything you do will paint a huge target on you, as well as your friends."
"They aren't my—"
"Draco, my uncle taught me one important thing: don't try to con a conman. You were the only one to volunteer to get initiated so your entourage wouldn't have to, am I wrong?"
Draco Malfoy's lowered head was all the answer Harry needed.
"I knew it. Anyway, the plan requires you to go along with them. Then, at the right moment… you fail. I get to contact the good guys, the Death Eaters get entrapped, and you can say you don't know anything about being outmaneuvered, because you really were. Also, we'll need a good secondary objective you can claim that will get you in the good graces of the fan club you'll be joining."
Harry's grin widened maniacally.
"And from there, you become my man in their organization."
Draco swallowed heavily.
"Once all is said and done, I am going to sing praises of the undercover Slytherin who risked life, limb and family to restore his lineage's good name, leaving you smelling like roses."
"…you thought this through, didn't you?" Draco asked.
"Ever since Monaco," Harry answered, and that was the moment he knew that Harry already had him. "If you'll go all in with this, you're going to look so great that they're going to ignore everything you and your father have done up to this point."
"There's just one thing that confuses me here," Draco said with a nod. "Why do all this for me? Why not get any prestige for yourself?"
Harry shrugged before taking a chug of his butterbeer.
"What good will any of that be when I'm not going to be in Wizarding Britain by the end of next schoolyear?"
The question was still echoing in Draco Malfoy's mind even as he met with his fellow Slytherins and walked back to Hogwarts, the cursed object tucked safely away in a mokeskin pouch, not to be used that night.
Spellcraft 101
The remedial defense classes were going so well to the point where Harry didn't need to actually teach; Neville, Ron and Hermione were doing good enough work on their own.
Which meant that he finally had the opportunity to work with Ginny Weasley on creating their own spells.
The fifth-year Gryffindor had been standoffish when meeting him, as she couldn't quite reconcile the thoughtful Harry Potter with the larger-than-life character Harold Graham.
It didn't help that when he was taking care of the Order headquarters, he acted in a way that was close to the opposite of how he did in Hogwarts: Harry was quiet, fond of reading, and generally kept to himself while out of school.
In Hogwarts, however, Harold Graham was a character. Everything he did was with maximum pomp and panache, as if he was the Harry Potter those storybooks portrayed him as.
These remedial defense classes and spellcraft projects were a chance for Ginny to find out who the real Harry Potter was – their mild-mannered landlord, the bombastic Harold Graham, or someone in between?
Their first class almost ended disastrously, as she thought that getting Harry Potter to go on a date with her would elevate her status among the student body – but it backfired.
She remembered what Harry said when revealing there was a third goblet: "don't try to go against a Sicilian when death is on the line, Ginny."
It confused her so, until she asked her father the Muggle Studies expert, who said it was a line from a movie.
Their work together was strained after that, until Ginny finally threw all pretense to the wind and asked him directly.
"Are you really too busy to be looking for love here at Hogwarts, Harry?" she finally asked just as one of their spellcraft sessions wound down to an end.
Harry's response stunned her: he just gave her a sad smile and nodded.
"It's not like that at all, Ginny," Harry replied. "Have you ever admired someone so much, but see that you have nothing you are good enough at to gain her attention or her affection?"
At the time, Ginny was too surprised to notice her heart breaking, but she eventually thought of something to say.
"Well, there's me and how I think of you, being this amazing wizard and all," she answered, and Harry did something strange again: he laughed.
"Yep," he said with a smile. "It really does look like that when you see it from someone else's point of view. Like… I don't know, seeing you kind of helps me understand myself. I mean, I've accomplished some things, but I don't think it will ever suffice for what I want."
"And what do you want in a girl, Harry Potter?"
"My standards are beyond your comprehension or understanding, Miss Weasley," Harry replied with a teasing lilt in his voice, and this was when Ginny realized Harry would never see her as anything but a friend.
She swore Hermione to lifetime secrecy later that it was the only time she cried out of heartbreak, but when she took some time to think about it, she didn't want to spend her life chasing after someone chasing after someone else.
"Yeah, you would look like one of those cartoons I watched as a kid," Hermione mused, much to their amusement.
From there, Harry did find a friend in Ginny, who was often Harry's interpreter about how girls thought, spoke, and acted.
Who knew the Weasley girl would be such a huge help?
I know, right? It's a good thing for us that she was able to understand.
I don't think she knows the person you're referring to.
I think she does, though. She just hasn't processed it yet.
Memories Broken
At the close of yet another month of schooling, Harry and Snape were summoned by the headmaster.
"No, Headmaster, I am the last person you should be asking for help to butter up Professor Slughorn," Harry said. "I can only tolerate him for ninety minutes at a time, four times a week. Try someone who can't figure out just how slimy he is. Maybe Longbottom or Weasley, sir."
The headmaster sighed.
"Well, if you are unwilling to help directly, maybe indirectly…?"
Harry looked to the floor and the ceiling while in thought for several minutes.
"Wait, I think I got it," he said after five minutes had passed, and the headmaster was talking about other matters with the Defense professor.
"What do you have?" Professor Snape asked.
"It's in one of those spy novels, how they get information without interrogating their subject too hard. It's a mental trick you don't need to be a legilimens for: just use what you think your subject knows against him. What information were you seeking from Professor Slughorn?"
"That is classified, Mr. Potter."
"Okay, okay…" Harry answered, then resumed thinking aloud. "So… if you want that information, wouldn't it be better if you just approached him as if you already knew the information and just need him to verify it?"
Professor Snape's eyes widened while the headmaster's eyes twinkled.
"What's more important here is how comprehensive that information is. Educated guesses, filling the blanks, let the guy do the dirty work for you. Professor Slughorn is also rather vain; play to that and I think you'll be more successful."
Once Harry was done, he was ordered into the waiting room carrying several sprigs of thyme and told to feed Fawkes once again.
"I hope what I said helped," Harry told the phoenix as he handed out a sprig of thyme towards it. "What could Professor Slughorn know that's so important to them?"
Fawkes shook his head very deliberately.
"If it's that important, then I'm not going to pry any further, Fawkes."
It was around ten minutes after the last of the sprigs of thyme were fed to Dumbledore's familiar when Professor Snape stalked out of the office.
"We're going to try it your way for now," he declared. "But if this doesn't work, Albus and I are going to put it on your shoulders to try and get that information out of him."
Harry nodded solemnly.
"Understood, sir."
One month after that meeting, Headmaster Dumbledore gave him the good news: Professor Slughorn finally cooperated, and thus the pensieve memory was completed. Of course, the contents of said pensieve was off-limits to Harry, which he didn't much care about.
What he cared about more was the ominous feeling going all over him… if that was good news, why was Harry feeling uneasy, as if there was something missing that he and Ouroboros somehow forgot?
An Ordinary Red Rock
"All this," Harry Potter grumbled as he pushed past a stone door into what looked like an abandoned storeroom, "for some rock?"
"It's the 'Philosopher's Stone', Harry," Neville Longbottom replied. "And we have to find it while Mr. and Mrs. Flamel are here, otherwise it will become inactive and truly lost."
"Remind me again how you lot shanghaied me into this?" Harry asked. "Don't bother answering; a rhetorical question."
"You sound a lot like Professor Snape when you're annoyed."
"To be fair, I AM his apprentice."
"And it was from his direction that you ended up here."
Harry sighed.
"At least I get a metric ton of academic credit for this, even if I no-show the Alchemy lectures the Flamels are doing."
"Hey, I got Hermione to make a copy of her notes for you, so it's not a complete loss, Harry."
"There is that. Thank you, Ron; Neville."
"Don't thank us. She insisted."
"Well, remind me to thank her once we're done excavating this damn storeroom… wait, there's something here. A mirror or something?"
Harry made his way to what looked like an antique mirror covered by a luxurious though dusty velvet curtain.
He pulled the curtain aside and…
Lewd female moans filled the air as he hurriedly whipped the curtain back on.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?
Beats me. What's got you spooked, Harry?
You didn't hear it?
Hear what?
Listen.
Harry yanked the curtain open for a moment, and the moans started up again, only stopping when he put the curtain back on.
Again, you didn't hear it?
No, Harry. Wait a minute… I know this artifact.
"Something wrong, Harry?" Neville said, walking up to him with the tip of his wand lit up. "Your face is red. What happened?"
Harry shook his head so fast, raising up the dust in the boxes piled up close to him.
"The mirror," he explained, and as he gestured towards it, Ron pulled the curtain open carefully.
"Who the heck is Laborn Johns and why am I blocking his shots at the goalposts?" Ron asked as he looked at the mirror.
"Pretty sure that's not what I see," Neville replied. "I see myself leading Longbottom House. What about you, Harry? …Harry?"
Harry was turned away from the mirror, a wall of silence spell around him, and a handkerchief at his nose. He gestured with his arm backwards to put the curtain back on – Neville seemed confused, but Ron quickly did it anyway, even if he wanted to see who this Laborn Johns fellow was.
When Harry turned back, his nose was bleeding and his face was even redder than before.
"Is that mirror somehow affecting you, Harry?" Ron asked, and Harry just nodded.
I can't get a bead on your thoughts. There is encrypted information being relayed to your senses, probably something from the mirror. Let me see…
…how long until you decrypt it, Tom?
Give me several moments and… done. Oh my, Harry.
Tom…
Fine. Be that way. Still… you would've made a fine Slytherin, with that kind of ambition.
How can I see the mirror without it being… that vision?
Hmm. Let me see… I suppose I can filter the incoming data somewhat now that I've decrypted it. Do you want black bars or mosaic?
WHATEVER WORKS!
"Hey, Neville, Harry, check this out. Above the mirror, some strange carvings. Do those look like letters?"
"They don't make sense, almost as if they're… on backwards… hmm…" Neville trailed off.
Harry forced his eyes to stop looking at the mirror and onto the carvings.
"I show not your face but your heart's desire?" Harry and Neville intoned almost simultaneously.
"Well," Harry finally said after a while, "this seems to be the mirror Professor Snape was talking about."
"You seem to have an even greater weakness to it than we do, Harry," Neville observed. "Whenever you look in that mirror, your face turns red and your nose starts to leak blood."
Not wanting to be put on the spot, Harry gestured towards the mirror.
"Your heart's desire," Harry said. "Isn't it strange that all of us can somehow resist it?"
"The Dark Lord could be anywhere. Death could come for us any time," Ron answered, and upon hearing that, something clicked within Harry's mind: a question that he had been wondering about, and was now answered. "I'll look at my quidditch career when there's actually a wizarding Britain to play for."
"Same," Neville said. "It's no use to have a Longbottom House to lead when everything else has been destroyed by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."
Harry let out a low whistle.
I don't know what happened to rob these guys of what little innocence they have left.
They're part of the Order of the Phoenix. They took an oath. This is the price they pay.
I know… but this just… wait a minute.
"Guys," Harry said as he was about to open the mirror again, "which one of us wants the stone again?"
"I could use it to help speed up my parents' recovery," Neville answered.
"And I could use it to transmute a lot of gold so my parents won't have to worry about money ever again," Ron answered. "Why do you ask that, Harry?"
"Because I think I know how the mirror works," he said, flinging the curtain away to view the mirror in its entirety.
[The following scene has been redacted due to extreme NSFW content.]
Even with all the filters his Device placed on it, the lurid sight still burned itself before Harry's eyes, the woman beneath him writhing and bucking her hips, her eyes rolling upwards as she continually spasmed in ecstasy…
…the Harry in the mirror turned towards him, flexed his free arm, and winked.
And then he saw a bulge form in the pocket of the pants strewn over a nearby chair just as the Harry in the mirror turned the woman over, and started taking her from behind…
…That was around the time his right pants pocket felt a bit heavier than usual.
He stepped up to the mirror and finally closed the curtain.
"You all right, Harry?"
"What did you see there, Harry?"
"I'm okay now. Let's go back to Mr. Flamel."
Legacy Established
Several days had passed between Harry, Ron and Neville being able to snag the Philosopher's Stone from the defenses placed around it.
Much to Harry's annoyance, Ron and Neville were able to guess what had Harry behaving so oddly upon retrieving the Stone, and with their knowledge of the regular 'night visits' from his fellow Hufflepuffs, were needling him nonstop about what they think he saw in the Mirror.
"A harem of nubile Hufflepuffs, all aged to his liking," Neville had said.
"On a throne made of Hufflepuff knickers," Ron continued.
"I swear by Merlin's sparkly bits," Harry said, "you guys are really picking up where the twins left off, aren't you?"
The two Gryffindors just laughed.
"Well," Ron explained, "you haven't told us what you saw in the Mirror. Just who were you snogging? Hermione? Daphne? Ginny – no, not her, Hannah, Susan?"
Harry just gave an exasperated sigh as he shook his head.
Well, they may have gotten the vision right, but at least they haven't cottoned onto who you were doing it with yet, Harry.
Only a matter of time until they make the correct guess. I hope I can make it to the end of seventh year before that happens.
You're doing a good job of it with your occlumency.
Who knew a powerful mental art would have such a useful application?
Indeed, who knew?
He took a turn at the hallway and made his way to one of the larger classrooms, where the Flamels were about to hold another seminar. Their presence at Hogwarts certainly made things lively, as well as the Alchemy elective they were teaching, and now the hype surrounding their presence had boiled down to a simmer.
Despite all that, Harry found himself troubled by their presence and the real reason they went out of their way to reacquire the priceless artifact.
Sure, the idea of an object that could grant eternal life had intrigued him ever since he first heard about it, but he knew that the stone was a dangerous artifact.
He understood why Nicolas Flamel, its creator, had decided to destroy it… but he also felt that there was something important about the stone that everyone overlooked.
It was with this mindset that Harry, during a lull in his NEWT reviews, visited the alchemist couple in their laboratory. Upon being beckoned to enter, Harry saw the old alchemist busy working on some new project, but he welcomed Harry warmly. Harry was still nervous, even if he already met the couple before at Mahoutokoro, because he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of the Philosopher's Stone.
"…and that is why you put the ingredients in that sequence," the ancient alchemist said. "You were saying, Harry?"
"I was wondering if we could talk about the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, trying to sound casual.
Flamel's face darkened. "What about it?" he asked carefully.
"Mrs. Flamel told me about your plans with the stone," Harry admitted. "I was wondering if there was a way, you would choose to preserve it."
"Preserve it?" Flamel repeated incredulously. "Why on earth would I do that?"
"It's like you said in your alchemy lectures," Harry explained. "A theorem, based on the nature of Equivalent Exchange and what we know about the soul's elasticity regarding knowledge and wisdom. We already know that alchemical foci often have traces of the souls of their users, either in the form of an imprint or a portion of their knowledge. With that being established, how much knowledge would something like a Philosopher's Stone have?"
This was one of the things Nicolas Flamel often wrestled with when the topic of destroying the Philosopher's Stone came about, and hearing the boy figure it out on his own had the doubts that he long thought dispelled returning to him in force.
Flamel looked at Harry thoughtfully, still weighing the value of the Philosopher's Stone as a source of great knowledge between the shame of losing said knowledge it possessed forever and the danger it had while intact.
"You have a point, Harry," the old alchemist answered, choosing his words with great prudence. "But I can't risk the stone falling into the wrong hands. It's just too powerful."
"I understand," Harry said. "But… what if we extracted the knowledge from the stone and created an archive? We could preserve all the knowledge without the danger of the stone's power."
"Greater wizards have taken lifetimes in search of a way to do that," Flamel said as he considered Harry's proposal for a moment. "I have also spent years trying to find a means to preserve the stone's knowledge without the imprint of my soul into it."
"I know a way," Harry said quietly, and Flamel's eyes widened.
"Tell me," Flamel said; and Harry spoke of what he knew about the soul transformed into data. The alchemist wasn't completely cocooned within the wizarding world, so he had at least some idea about what Harry spoke of.
As Harry continued with what he had in mind, the old alchemist was beginning to become optimistic. Sure, it was a long shot, but it might just be the solution he and his wife had been searching for throughout the centuries.
"All right, Harry," Flamel said, once Harry was done with his explanation. "I'll meet with your Dr. Radom, but we'll need to be extra careful with this. You, of all people, should know the potential danger a first contact scenario would be to the magical world."
Harry's eyes brightened, but his nod of acknowledgment was grim.
"For all of the advances we've made ever since we acquired concrete data on soul partitioning, that is one thing we have yet to achieve," Dr. Radom replied.
As soon as Harry was able to make the call, he immediately got in touch with his contact in the TSAB's research and development division, thinking that with more than a decade after receiving his Device, they would be able to handle his request…
"Still, there is a simpler way to go about this," Dr. Radom continued. "We can defragment the soul from within the artifact to separate it from the data, and from there we can properly sort and archive it. The stone does not need to be destroyed, but its lifespan-increasing capabilities will be removed – it will become nothing more than a data repository."
"But the question is…"
"Oh, I'm pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. Flamel would approve; it's the same outcome anyway."
"I still find it odd that you would make a last batch of elixir right before allowing this," Dr. Radom told the couple, right in the wake of their successful extraction.
Though the procedure only took a few hours, it was the most hectic and troublesome hours the TSAB had gone through.
Still, for all the precautions they took, the data was retrieved without a hitch, and all fragments of soul data from the Flamels was removed.
Of particular note were a few orphaned terabytes of soul data that didn't belong to either of the Flamels, but that was what the Bureau were going through right now.
"Perenelle and I agreed on making a last batch in case there were complications in the procedure," the old alchemist replied, happy that his knowledge was secured and that he and his wife could go onto the next great journey with their legacy intact.
"Still, all this knowledge: even the missing bits from the Library of Alexandria that Eustania von Scrya could not obtain… we now have the most comprehensive omnibus of magic from UA97 archived in the Infinity Library. The Bureau's already beginning legislation to have the UA97 archive named the "Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel Wing" in your honor."
"Thank you," the alchemist said.
As a courtesy to the old alchemist, the last remaining copy of the Philosopher's Stone was finally destroyed the day afterwards, thanks to a minute application of the L'arc-en-ciel Class Matter Annihilation Beam, a smaller version which the Vimana carried for both testing and self-defense purposes.
When Harry saw the aurora outside the castle, he smiled in accomplishment, as he knew his attempt in convincing the old alchemist of the value of the Philosopher's Stone was successful: it was more than just its ability to grant immortality. He knew that Flamel's decision to create the archive was a significant step towards preserving magical knowledge for generations to come.
Iron Escalation
The extraction took place over the week, with the Flamels suspending their Hogwarts seminars for the time to 'acquire more research material', or so they said. Strangely enough, Harry himself also received an invitation on board the Vimana again for the weekend; something to do with Ouroboros, Dr. Radom told him.
"I thought that the business of Mr. Flamel's stone was already taken care of," Harry said after he had arrived onto the ship.
"It was, but there are a few loose ends we need to tie up," Dr. Radom announced, and then the transporter had activated again, with an older man and a younger woman emerging from the chamber. "Ah, good. You have made good time, Monsieur Delacour."
Harry's eyes widened to see Sebastien Delacour and his daughter.
"Minister," Harry said with a bow in greeting.
"None of that now, my boy," the wizard said. "I am but a humble citizen of Midchilda at this point, as is my family. This matter is quite concerning, Dr. Radom. What has transpired that you have summoned us at very short notice?"
"Well," Dr. Radom replied, "something strange happened during our extraction and archival of the knowledge stored within the Philosopher's Stone. There was a stray mass of data that, after we converted it to the Midchilda standard, was a nearly-complete software component of an Intelligent Device."
"And what does that have to do with us?" Fleur asked.
"The thing is," Dr. Radom answered, "the Device we made with this software installed, has some sort of magical signature resonance lock. I can use the basic functions, but its full functionality is only given to those it fully resonates with."
"Like Ouroboros?" Harry asked.
"Exactly," Dr. Radom replied as she activated the Device with a familiar-sounding keyword. "We ran a search to find similar magical signatures… which is why you two are here: Mr. Delacour, Ms. Delacour."
"You mean to say we are compatible with this… this Device?"
Dr. Radom nodded as she deactivated the Intelligent Device and held it out to the two of them.
"This data is centuries old; I'll have you know. Color me curious, though… what is your connection to this one?"
Fleur was thinking for a moment, but her father quickly put two and two together.
"The Philosopher's Stone… mon dieu… I had heard outlandish rumors about it, but I didn't know it was true," he gasped out. "Grandmother had always spoken of the adventures Great-great-grandmother Athenais had been in…"
"What do you mean, Papa?" Fleur asked.
"That Device… that is what is left of your ancestor's masterwork; Eugene de Vaucanson. I think you are meant to wield it, Fleur."
The faint light from the gear-shaped pendant grew brighter as Fleur's hands hovered over it.
"…her name is Aegis?"
Dr. Marion Radom nodded.
"That's right."
Fleur spoke the word, and transformed.
Mixed Signals
Device testing went well enough, with Aegis having multiple forms for combat and maneuvering. Fleur liked the fans the most, as they looked like razor-sharp metal wings that meant business; though being an Intelligent Device, nonlethal combat protocols were incorporated into it.
There was the rather awkward part where Harry walked Fleur through some of Aegis' functions, which earned him a lot of knowing glances from the senior Delacour, but Harry didn't want to dwell on that.
Overall, the weekend went well, with Harry and Hogwarts returning to their usual pace of learning, as the Flamels finished up their lectures to leave for their "next great adventure", earning a party at the close of their stay in Hogwarts.
Of course, only Harry and a select few knew what the Flamels really meant by that, which was why the staff party was a lot more somber.
Harry found himself just a little bit irked that a single drop of firewhiskey in his drink was all they allowed to give him.
Last Christmas, they put me on drink duty because Aunt Petunia couldn't, and I didn't make a monkey of myself.
They don't know that, Harry. Besides, you think it would make a difference if you told them that?
They'd probably think the Dursleys are still up to their mean, Wizard-hating tricks.
They still are.
Yeah, but they're trying to look at what's normal about me instead of what isn't.
Thanks to the Admiral.
Who knows what would've happened if he wasn't around?
"…and there!" Ginny Weasley announced, casting her improved version of the Bat-Bogey Hex.
It was amazing, how the smallest bits of nose gunk turned into bats that beset their target.
The previous incarnation of the spell was rather simple, but this?
I don't think you understand how much Miss Weasley improved this spell.
What do you mean?
These are temporary familiars, Harry.
Oh.
They were crafting spells for Harry's Charms NEWT and Ginny's Charms OWL during the weekly Defense Association meeting, and once the affairs of the week had concluded, the two of them found themselves in the Hogwarts main hall, just seated on some chairs and decompressing from the week's ups and downs.
"Seen your games," Harry said. "You're a pretty good Chaser, ever think about turning pro?"
Ginny shrugged.
"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not exactly in the frame of mind to be thinking of that, given what's going on right now… when all this has passed, I'll probably think about it… so yes?"
Harry laughed at her answer before his expression turned serious.
"'Given what's going on'… Ginny, the kind of premonitions you've had…"
She nodded.
"I was at the Triwizard final. I asked my brothers not to watch the final match, felt something would happen, and it did…" she said. "Speaking of the Triwizard, I've been asking my dad about Cedric. What happened to him?"
"Oh, that I can answer," Harry replied with a grin. "Cedric Diggory's going to be the consort of the Rousavall family's heir. Claire's an only child, so she's going to be Marchioness Rousavall."
"He married into royalty?"
"More like royalty snapped him up," Harry clarified, snapping his finger. "Like that. By the way, you were with the Golden Trio during the OWLs at Diagon, right?"
"That's right," Ginny admitted. "I was there to give my brother moral support. You know… he needs all the help he can get, especially with the OWLs."
Something halfway between a chuckle and a cough escaped Harry before he motioned Ginny to continue.
"When I was there, I had a feeling of… wrongness…" Ginny said with a sigh. "Who knew it would be You-Know-Who possessing a dragon?"
"Yeah…"
The resulting silence from Ginny's words dampened what was previously a relaxed mood.
Several minutes later, she stood up.
"Sorry to be such a downer, Harry," Ginny said as she broke the silence, "we'll be seeing you next week, right?"
Harry just nodded, and as soon as she was out of earshot, he consulted his Device.
How did she know?
I've been thinking about that, too.
Also, you've been surprisingly silent every time I'm working on Charms with Ginny. What gives?
Ginny Weasley and Cedric Diggory have something in common.
Harry took a moment to think.
They've both been possessed by the Dark Lord, or artifacts with his soul.
Right in one. Now, I am neither Tom Riddle nor Lord Voldemort any longer, but there is enough of him in me that I cannot run the risk of communicating with you, with the risk of them hearing it.
What about the Triwizard?
Oh, that's just pure luck. Even if Cedric does manage to make the connection, he doesn't have the credibility to make the accusation. After all, he was possessed by the diadem at the time.
That's a relief.
That won't be enough. Remember, we are on thin ice with Dumbledore.
I know. I still don't get why we keep simulating that encounter.
Because I know how Professor Dumbledore thinks, and if he does make a move, we need to be able to slither away from it without leaving any trace.
Are we really going to have to resort to that?
No, Ouroboros clarified.What I meant was, we negotiate as hard as we can. For all the power we've gained, Dumbledore still has experience and treachery to fall back on. We are going to do everything we can to prevent a fight.
Makes sense, but with what you say about him not trusting me…
That only means we'll have to plan for every eventuality.
Which is what we're already doing.
Author's Notes:
The shout-outs here are as follows: American Psycho, Bocchi the Rock!, Steelrising, and The Riddle of Steel.
You can already imagine what Harry saw in the Mirror of Erised. And yes, this is my way of saying that Harry is not exempt from being a horny male teenager. He just... keeps it in better than most of his age group, and the Mirror just hit him upside the head with it all at once.
