Magic Knows No Boundaries But Those We Believe In (Harry Potter)

[MadRatSly]

Very fun story. Divination gets a bad rap but I love imagining Destiny being a supreme troll here, punting Harry into the universe then creating such a convoluted chain of events to slot him into the story, winking and grinning smugly all the while. Wonder how Tom would react to knowing that the universe itself is pulling Deus Ex Machinas to fuck him over?

Also appreciate taking the time to draw out Harry's strengths and weaknesses. Always love the occasional supremely competent Harry story, but having Harry acknowledge where his strengths and weaknesses lie, accepting he's not the second coming of Dumbledore but has strengths elsewhere is a breath of fresh air, so kudos. Also acknowledging he's a total jock, which people seem to be reluctant to do for some reason

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Very fun story. Divination gets a bad rap but I love imagining Destiny being a supreme troll here, punting Harry into the universe then creating such a convoluted chain of events to slot him into the story, winking and grinning smugly all the while. Wonder how Tom would react to knowing that the universe itself is pulling Deus Ex Machinas to fuck him over?

Also appreciate taking the time to draw out Harry's strengths and weaknesses. Always love the occasional supremely competent Harry story, but having Harry acknowledge where his strengths and weaknesses lie, accepting he's not the second coming of Dumbledore but has strengths elsewhere is a breath of fresh air, so kudos. Also acknowledging he's a total jock, which people seem to be reluctant to do for some reason

Click to shrink...

So much to agree with here.

Only disagreement is that the Fate's aren't just fucking with Voldemort. He fucked with them first and caused this entire series of event, as you'll find out later. But yes, they are trolls.

Yes, a competent Harry, under the age of 120, will not be the second coming of Dumbledore OR Voldemort under (almost) any circumstances. And as with both DUmbledore and Voldemort his weaknesses more than make up for his strengths.

But the line I couldn't agree with more is "Also acknowledging he's a total jock, which people seem to be reluctant to do for some reason". Harry is and always has been an absolute jock, and if it weren't for the world constantly trying to kill him, even without his celebrity status, he would have absolutely dominated the Hogwarts social hierarchy. Best "Jock" Harry I ever read was "The Death Eaters of Hogwarts" where it just portrays him as a really active teenager.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 11:

Networking Part 1:​

---

"I really appreciated the bouquet, but you didn't have to visit." Professor Marchbanks told Harry as he entered his hospital room.

The all-white curtains, linen, walls and floor matched his full-body bandages perfectly. Harry never would have recognized the older man were it not for his voice.

"I disagree. It was completely necessary." Said Harry as he placed a gift basket of fruit on the end table. "I feel strangely responsible. Like my warning wasn't enough to protect you."

Marchbanks chuckled in a wheezing way.

"Nonsense. If you had made the prediction and it helped me to avoid the eventuality you foresaw, then would it have been a prediction at all?" He asked.

The man had a point. But he would have rather been a failed seer than to have a good man put in such a pitiful state after an attempted murder.

"So, what was it that he offered you?" Harry asked.

Marchbanks nodded to indicate a box at the foot of his bed. Harry could already feel something… light coming from it. Whatever was inside gave off a similar impression to his magical senses that an old, abandoned chapel would, or an even more ancient set of ruins in an archeological site might. It was warm and bright but like unto dust.

"May I?" Harry asked, indicating the box.

Marchbanks nodded and Harry opened the container.

Inside was a beautiful sword of copper and stone magically fused into a new material, but a weapon had been shattered as if it were made of glass. Touching it revealed to him what it was.

A sword of fire. One of divine purpose and religious origins.

"The sword of Gabrielle." Marchbanks said. "The one set at the entrance to the Garden of Eden to keep us children of Adam from ever returning. A garden sunk beneath the Persian gulf after the great flood."

It was certainly ancient enough that Harry could almost believe the story. It had been used in rituals for going on eight or more millennia. Ranging from the cutting of marriage bonds to human and animal sacrifice. It told such great stories of tribes ranging from the Hebrews to the sea people, and even those wholly unmentioned in religious or historical texts of any kind and whom Harry and never heard of. There was so much history and devotion in this object, all of it lost and nothing more to his magical senses than a whispered echo in a language he could never know. But one thing was certain to Harry.

"It's not the genuine article." He said. "It doesn't predate creation like the divine beings and their tools would."

"I know." Marchbanks confessed. "But a replica with its own history holds value almost as great as a genuine article, minus the dangers to health and sanity."

Harry looked at the wounded man curiously.

"You would risk your life for a mere replica?" He asked in disbelief.

"Absolutely. Each copy of the testaments of Jesus, or the dead sea scrolls or the lost gospels hidden and abandoned by the church are hugely valuable and belong to the whole of humanity." He said."Our history, our ancestors put their faith and devotion into this. It was valuable to them in the same way as common wisdom, folklore and other things meant to be passed down to their children are. Only they haven't been passed down but forgotten. Lost heirlooms. And that is a tragedy most horrible."

Harry was not a man of faith. Which said more about his hard-headedness than his nonbelief. Especially considering his ability to literally feel the power of faith permeating in places of worship and religious value, not to mention his run-in with a literal demon that one time. He just couldn't put his faith in others, not even God, like that. Trust issues and self-reliance and all that. But he could respect it.

"Was it broken when Tom gave it to you?" Harry pressed on.

"Ohoho! Somebody knows more about the dark lord than the average bear!" Marchbanks said with a wink. "And no, it was intact if a little frayed around the edges. It broke taking the killing curse meant for me… after I used it to fend off two of Tom's best."

An impressive man. To not only draw Voldemort's attention, but to fend him off too. Even if it left him half alive.

"You are a formidable man, Professor Marchbanks." Harry said honestly. "May we never cross wands."

"The same to you, Mister Morrigan. I have another visitor coming soon." The older man said by way of dismissal.

Harry placed the ruined artifact back into the box and bowed slightly and left the private room and down the hall. It wasn't a particularly busy day in Saint Mungo's so he didn't encounter anybody on the way to the elevator.

He was rather surprised when he pressed the button to call the lift, for who should step out of it, but Albus-bloody-Dumbledore. Neither he nor the headmaster showed any indication that they recognized each other by their posture or facial expressions.

"Professor Dumbledore." Harry greeted with a nod.

"Mister Morrigan." Dumbledore reciprocated with a nod of his own.

They passed each other, each going their opposite ways, when the old man piped up.

"Oh, and since I have your attention." Albus said. "I have accepted your application and I will be interviewing you personally this Wednesday, as my deputy headmistress will be indisposed and cannot do so. A letter detailing the time and place should be waiting for you at your residence by now."
Harry nodded.

"Brilliant! I look forward to it." He said.

"And is Alastor well enough to be accepting more visitors?" He asked.

"Fit as a fiddle, if a little melancholy and strangely satisfied with himself despite his condition." Harry answered truthfully.

"That is most excellent news! Well. I won't take up anymore of your time. I'm sure you're a very busy man." Dumbledore dismissed him.

"Says the man juggling three eighty-hour per week jobs!" Harry retorted with a wink as he pressed the button to the first floor.

As the door closed Harry barely managed to spot the old man's own wink and he finally let the avalanche of emotions flood his body.

Joy at seeing his grandfather figure alive mixed sadness at remembering his tragic life and death in his own world was easy to place. The nervousness at the possibility of being found out doing the many naughty things he was doing by an authority figure was too. It was a psychological tick that few Hogwarts alumni ever overcame. Above all what shcoked him the most was, well, the shock. Shock at seeing the dead brought back to life. And not the faux shades of the dead brought by the resurrection stone, which he himself confirmed weren't actually the souls of the dead and Hermione double-confirmed with her own experiments.

He had to brace himself against a wall control his breathing. It was all so overwhelming. To see a man he adored and cherished so much throw him a wink and joke in his old man humor. To say nothing of the smell. Every person, especially old people, have their own smell. And when that person is a loved one a single hint of that smell can bring up all manner of memories all at once.

He would need to spend the rest of the two days until the interview bracing himself to not break down while getting the third degree from the headmaster.

He managed to calm his nerves with a deep breaths before the lift doors opened and deposited him onto the first floor of the hospital and made his way out. He had many more errands to take care of today, and it didn't do to drown in melancholy.

Besides. He learned an important new piece of information that he needed to place into the bigger picture Voldemort was still collecting magical artifacts, which implied he may not have finished creating all seven horcruxes yet.

---

"So." Began Ragnok. "Is there a particular reason you advised one of my premier hedge fund goblins to short two of the largest and fastest growing tech companies in the Muggle world during an economic boom specifically surrounding said tech industry?"

And like that the meeting he requested with the goblins went from optimistic to being reminiscent of sitting on the wrong side of a teacher's desk. This was decidedly not what he had come here for.
"Well, you see, I'm not a qualified financial advisor and can't be held liable for…" Harry began.
"That's not going to fly with me." Ragnok interrupted.

"Okay fine! I was annoyed that everybody kept coming to me asking for advice on everything and I started screwing with people, as I'm wont to do when people annoy me." Harry confessed. "Happy?"
"No!" Ragnok answered. "They took your advice to heart and lost millions!"

"Well, the advice was still good. There is a bit of a crash coming soon. With a bit of cleverness, you can make a bit of profit. A large bit of profit." Harry explained.

Ragnok was silent for a little while.

"Elaborate." He demanded.

He did.

"Well there was, or er, is a bubble right now. Dot com bubble I think it's called. I think it burst in 1996 or so." Harry explained. Then checked his mental duel calender. "So about nowish. But it lasted a good half decade. So, you guys have five years of fun ahead of you."

Ragnok leaned forward in his chair.

"Is it a slow burn or a sudden crash?" He asked.

"Well, you know how the old joke goes." Harry said. "How did the former millionaire go bankrupt? At first very slowly, and then very, very quickly."

Ragnok nodded with a wicked grin.

"And if you think that has the potential for capitalizing on, wait until I tell you about the housing crash!" Harry went on.

"Let me guess." Said Ragnok. "The American administration's subprime mortgage mandate, forcing banks to give out loans to people who can't afford to pay them back is going to backfire spectacularly? So badly, that housing will become overpriced fifteen fold, that foreign entities and crime syndicates begin buying and selling houses as a form of money laundering leaving fewer houses for people to actually live in and inflating the prices ever further, and from there the banks, desperate to make a profit on the terrible investments they were forced to make by government regulation, will concoct quasi-legal debt-selling schemes thus spreading the crisis to the investment market?"

Gee Ragnok. When you say it like that it almost sounds as if this kind of thing has happened before and that anybody with a basic understanding of Austrian economics ought to be able to see it coming a decade ahead of time. Why, it was almost as if your own economic analysts in the bank already see it coming. But that's just crazy talk!

"On the bright side if you save properly in the leadup to the crash, you'll be able to buy up a tonne of properties around the world for dirt cheap." Harry went on. "And you could use them as an added benefit for curse breakers. Better lodging during their trips to the worlds deadliest places."
Ragnok hummed dismissively at the idea.

"And if you want me to, I can give you the information I know on which companies will be going out of business so you really can short them and invest long-term in the stocks of companies I know will survive and thrive."

Ragnok outright snarled at that suggestion.

Gringotts didn't, or wasn't supposed to, take part in short term stock exchanges. Least of all shorting companies. It went against persuading excellence, of achievements over profits. Especially shorting, betting against a company or country and the livelihoods of those therein was dishonorable in the extreme.

Harry was under no delusions that the goblins who took his malicious advice were still employed. Or at least not in their former positions.

"So. Economic woes ahead of us?" Ragnok surmised.

Harry nodded.

"And what was it you called people who shy away from chasing fortune and excellence in economic downturns?" Ragnok asked.

"Pussies!" Harry repeated. "And speaking of chasing fortune and excellence during economic downturns, have you had time to read the proposal I wrote?"

Ragnok reached into a drawer and pulled out the large manilla envelope he had sent with Hedwig. More as a challenge for her than the necessity of a speedy arrival.

"You wish to liquidate what investments you have in order to invest in a large parcel of undeveloped land to grow, and I quote, 'aconite, giant moonwarts, Commiphora myrrha, and possiblt hops and marijuana.' As well as a property in Hogsmeade for the purpose of serving as a shelter for werewolves." Ragnok read aloud.

"That is correct." Said Harry.

"Okay. I have several questions and even more misgivings." Ragnok said. "I understand that aconite, moonwart and myrrh are the primary ingredients for the wolfsbane potion. But why hops and marijuana? The latter of which you need a very difficult to obtain license to grow."

"Well, have you ever encountered an asshole who thought it would be funny to get their dog drunk on an ale?" Harry asked.

"Can't say that I have." Ragnok said.

"Well, it turns out drunk dogs are incapable of doing much of anything besides whimpering and pissing themselves. Same for werewolves. Marijuana calms werewolves down the same as it does humans. They're the best alternatives for people suffering from lycanism who have bad reactions to wolfsbane." Harry explained.

Ragnok nodded.

"And with the profits from selling my ingredients to potioneers who want to make other potions that use them, I'll be able to fund the shelter when my initial funds run dry." Harry finished.

Ragnok nodded again.

"You must know that I already set a team to dismantle your business plan and poke holes in it, right?" Ragnok asked.

"I'm all ears." Said Harry.

"First of all, marijuana grows best in temperate climates, which the United Kingdom is not." Ragnok listed.

"Marijuana is the least important item on the list, and honestly? It will probably boil down to procuring it through medical dispensaries and have a properly licensed mediwitch or wizard administer." Harry admitted. "But I do hope to grow some myself this next summer, along with hops. For the autumn and winter I'll just have to buy drink and thc for the customers. But I should be able to grow the potion ingredients year round."

Ragnok made a note on one of the pages in the envelope.

"And what countries would you be most interested in buying this parcel of land?" Ragnok asked.
"Whatever will give me the most land for least cost." Harry answered. "Quantity over quality. None of these things require particularly good soil or warmth. And greenhouses exist for a reason."
Ragnok made another note.

"The best bets are Scottland and Iceland then, but I would advie against Iceland as shipments from there are regularly attacked by Voldemort and his forces."

"Iceland it is then." Harry concluded.

Seeing Ragnok sputter in confusion at his unintuitive decision was always great fun.

"You want your shipments to be attacked by Death Eaters?" Ragnok concluded.

"Quite." Said Harry. "Amateur Death Eaters are easily dealt with, and I will time my shipments on weekends so that I can ride along and defend my property. Quicker shipments to the U.K, I get some exercise, the Death Eaters have fewer resources with which to harass other shipments and Voldemort's forces dwindle. Win, win, win, win."

Ragnok pinched his brow in frustration.

"Okay! Okay. I will approve that half of the business plan." Ragnok conceded. "But there are even bigger problems with this shelter for werewolves you proposed."

"Lay them on me." Harry said.

"Well for one, homeless shelters are scams that do nothing to help the homeless and only ever serve to enrich the organizers and make volunteers feeeeeeel like they're doing good without actually doing a damn thing to reduce homelessness." Ragnok ripped the Band-Aid off.

"... Huh?" Harry said dumbly.

"Oh yes. There has been a whole host of scientific studies comparing the benefits of homeless shelters, food programs and the like compared to just handing the homeless money." Ragnok went on. "Canada did one where they just straight up gave a number of homeless individuals 7500 dollars and acted shocked when, instead of using it to overdose on crystal meth, they used it to get their lives back together. And that's just one of many such studies, all of which show the same result."(AN-1)

Harry had not been aware of that. But was it really surprising to learn that a bunch of assholes used faux charities to enrich themselves and justified it by promoting bullshit stereotypes about the downtrodden? Hardly. Something something Clinton foundation stealing billions from the Haiti relief effort, something something Catholic Church, Mormons and Jesuits hoarding the wealth and properties bequeathed to them by widows. Yada yada. Assholes everywhere taking advantage of good people's charity.

Speaking of, he better put some preparation in place to aid Haiti, New Orleans and other places due for a natural disaster in the next decade. Or better yet, put safeguards to minimize the damage ahead of time. He pulled out his handy dandy notebook and put that down.

"The same is true for food banks and jobs programs for the homeless." Ragnok finished. "Usually government food stamps programs, again just giving the homeless money, proves more effective."

"Well, it's a good thing I'm not making a homeless shelter." Said Harry. "I am creating a shelter specifically for werewolves to self-quarantine near the full moon and only during the full moon. Nothing more."

Ragnok made yet another note in the stack of papers.

"That will significantly reduce the cost I estimated for your charity." Said Ragnok. "I would be tempted to approve your nonprofit on that factor alone if it weren't for untoward elements in the werewolf community."

That put Harry on edge.

"What kind of untoward elements?" He asked, fully expecting an anti-werewolf rant.

"There is a large subgroup of werewolves who are intent on spreading their condition through a whole host of tactics." He explained. "Doping water supplies with saliva, blood and other bodily fluids in the leadup to the full moon in the hope that it will mutate outside of their bodies under the moonlight, thus infecting anybody who comes in contact with it."

"Does... Does that actually work?" Harry asked.

"Consensus is out on that one. But worse, there are non-werewolves obsessed with catching the disease themselves. So you would have to be very discriminatory in your hiring practices."

Harry both groaned and cringed at the revelation.

"Great. There are bug chasers and gift givers in the werewolf community." Harry concluded. "I'll have to root them out and blacklist them. And boy will that be tough."

"Gift givers?" Asked Ragnok. "Bug chasers?"

"Gift givers and bug chasers are terms referring to a large section of the homophiliac community in America." Explained Harry. "They intentionally go around spreading or catching HIV, often intent on collecting multiple strains of the virus in the hopes it will mutate and become airborne. In fact, the first ever confirmed aids patient deliberately went around to bath houses spreading it to other homophiliacs."

The look of disgust on Ragnok's face was harrowing.

"That is borderline apocalyptic." He said in horror.

True, there was no proper cure for aids, either magical or mundane. And the closest humanity has ever achieved was prohibitively expensive. Bone marrow transplants from the rare person immune to hiv might be more easily achieved by magical means though. Prodigious use of skelegrow and whatever bone marrow transplant magic was used in wizard hospitals could probably end HIV in a few decades. He added that to the list of things to prepare for when the statute of secrecy eventually broke.

He added that to his notebook too.

"So how do you plan to counteract these... gift givers and bug chasers in your shelter?" Ragnok asked.

"By hiring people I know I can trust." Harry answered. "And beating into the heads of everybody there about the dangers of these... bioterrorists?"

Yes. That was a good word for them.

"It will be one hell of a trial." Ragnok warned.

"Story of my life." Said Harry. "And nothing I've ever done worth doing was ever easy. Why would this be any different?"

Ragnok approved both his business plan and nonprofit proposal. Or at least the first stage of both. His assets were liquidated later that day and Griphook was assigned the task of hunting down an appropriate parcel of land for his agricultural pursuits. They negotiated the rates for the goblin accountants to register his LLC and begin the process of finding trustees to begin the process of forming his charity. But that was something to deal with later and would hardly be difficult.

Ragnok also recommended fund raising with some pureblood elites, as they always held parties for such. He had already planned to write letters to the elder Crabbe and Goyle in friendship anyways, so why not try to invite himself to their next big shindig?

For now, he had to find a property for housing werewolves near the full moon. He already had the perfect place in mind to purchase.

---

The weekend came and went in a blur.

He received a letter from Bellatrix Saturday morning inviting him to come watch her practice. While the idea of watching her run drills in gym clothes all day sounded like a great way to spend a weekend, he had to refuse with a letter of his own. He was sure she would understand his need to prepare for an interview for one of the most prestigious jobs on the planet. Especially with the interviewer being Albus Dumbledore himself.

For the rest of the weekend he hit the books, catching up on his divination. He had mostly skipped the subject in the prep for retaking his NEWTS. He pretty much gave up on it as an A at best, and yet now he was being railroaded into it as a field of specialty. Joy.

Unfortunately, his studying was constantly interrupted by owl after owl from seemingly everyone in Britain. Some were expected, some were pleasant surprises, and some were unpleasant surprises.
Hearing back from both grandpa Crabbe was a treat.

Mister Morrigan.

I was eminently pleased by your willingness and desire to take up your role in society as effectively as possible. Know that I, and most other purebloods, are more than willing to help you if you sinply reach out. If you wish to join my family for dinner to learn dining etiquette, we eat most nights around 6pm and have already cleared you to floo in. This is usually an area outsiders are lacking in and an easy one to remedy whilst also having an enjoyable time.

Your Acquaintance,

Valentine Crabbe​

He wrote a simple letter of acceptance and asked to join him Wednesday evening, with the request that he be able to bring a date.

Grandpa Goyle, on the other hand, was a bit more aggressive.

Dear business-illiterate asshat

After our delightful and illuminating introduction at the preliminaries, it came as quite a surprise to learn that you decided to start your tenure as head of an ancient house by liquidating everything and exiting the business world. News travels fast in the business world and half of the purebloods have already come to the conclusion that you are simply cashing out and running for the hills.

This is not a good look. And I hope to learn that you have other intentions in mind.

Hildebrand Goyle​

Harry had suffered a long fit of laughter from that one. He hadn't thought of that, but the man was right. He wrote back as urgently as he could manage between snickers.

Dear Mister Goyle.

I liquidated everything with the intention of pursuing a new business venture that I saw was sorely ignored by wizarding Britain. Nature abhors an empty niche, and I as an outsider had the perspective necessary to notice it.

I think you'll be pleased with it when you find out what it is.

Your acquaintance,

Hadrian Morrigan.​

With that out of the way he spent the rest of his Saturday relearning and practicing tea leaf reading and dream interpretation.

Sunday started with a host of truly unexpected letters. The tone for the day was set when an unregistered pigeon delivered him a bleached envelope signed Snuffles. He knew he was in for a good time before even opening it. So, open it he did.

Dear Hadrian Morrigan.

You are aware that there are nearly three billion women on the planet, are you not? Nearly a hundred million of whom are witches, several million more of whom are veela, and all of whom are saner and more attractive than Bellatrix Black.

Are you blind, deaf or the word for describing a person with no sense of smell that I can't seem to find in the dictionary? You must be one or all of the three to even tolerate her, but there are magical remedies for each I suggest pursuing.

Yours sincerely,

A concerned citizen
​

Ah, Sirius. To think the man had nothing better to do on the weekend than pick on his older cousin. Oh well, time to show off his skills as a seer and make the old dog sweat.

Dear Sirius Black

I have taken your concerns to heart, and written Bella with as venomous of a rejection letter to her date invite as I could manage.

I let her know that you brought to my attention her horrendous body odor and haggish looks in such fine detail. Your description of the rancid pustules on her inner thighs were rather vivid and left nothing to the imagination. I transcribed it perfectly in my letter to her.

Thank you for saving me from the horrible fate of suffering her company any longer.

Yours sincerely,

Hadrian Morrigan.​

Let him suffer under the fear of her finding out he tried to meddle in her romantic life so maliciously for a few days. He didn't actually tell Bella about it, mostly because he was sure she had done something in the past to bully him to warrant bullying in return. He so hoped Sirius went to apologize to her thinking he had. The added bonus that he would come to the conclusion that he discovered the man's identity through divination would only add to his own mystique.

He was significantly less surprised, but equally pleased, with the package he received during his lunch break from pyro-osteomancy. The three W's written in colorful calligraphy told him he was in for a treat. Literally and figuratively.

"Hell yeah! Canary creams would really hit the spot right now!" Harry decided as he opened the package.

They were not canary creams. According to the instructions at the bottom of the box they were "All you can eat dodging dodgers" which vanished from your stomach after eating. The perfect diet deserts. His Fred and George never made those. Nor did they make the second and third prank snack, Batty Battenberg and spotted dick. The Battenberg cakes caused an effect similar to the bat bogey hex but from a random orifice on the face, save for the eyes. The spotted dick was completely normal spotted dick. Because sophomoric humor never got old.

Harry wrote back with an inquiry into investing into their company. He would need to do the math later on what the inflation rate for one thousand galleons was compared to his time.

The rest of the day was pretty tame. Aside from a letter from Bellatrix saying she understood and wishing him luck. He also got a letter from Valentine Crabbe confirming his dinner with them for Wednesday night and permission to bring Bellatrix Black in particularly as his date. Because, naturally, the whole wizarding world had already caught wind of them dating. And it had only been one date. In private.

Monday and Tuesday was just more invitations to lunch and the like from the examiners. Marhcbanks sent him an open invitation to have breakfast at his home and Tofty wanted him to come for weekend brunch and tea with the rest of her old lady crew. He accepted both with the caveat that he didn't know when he could join, but to roughly pencil him in for later that week and next weekend.

He also got a lurid letter from some woman named Helena inviting him, in so many words, to come live with her. For the life of him he couldn't remember meeting a woman named Helena since arriving in this world. It wasn't the cute girl from the pet store that had been drooling over him, of that, he was sure. Either way, he sent a polite rejection letter to the unusually forward woman.

Beyond that his Monday and Tuesday was spent at the counter with his nose in the books dealing with the rare customer.

---

Dumbledore climbed the stairs to his brother's bar in his search for the private room he had reserved. He had been looking forward to this interview with the enigmatic Hadrian Morrigan despite himself and upon finding the correct room he reached out to knock.

"Enter." Morrigan's voice called out before he could make a single rasp on the aged wood.

The shade of his former lover glanced at him.

"I think he's expecting you, Albus." Said Gellert.

Arianna's shade giggled at the humor. He always had a way of charming her.

He opened the door and greeted his interviewee.

"I take it you 'foresaw' my arrival." Dumbledore asked jokingly as he entered the room.

For a split second a look of horror crossed Hadrian Morrigan's face at seeing him but it was gone so fast that Albus assumed he imagined it.

"Not at all." Said Hadrian in a friendly manner. "I heard your footsteps outside and it just so happened to be exactly 630 on the dot, as your missive detailed. Half of a man's ability to predict the future comes solely from deduction."

"Ah. Good." Said Gellert. "He doesn't use mentalism or attribute common sense to some mythical inner eye. He's either a decent seer or smart enough not to try that nonsense on you."

Indeed. The basics of mind tricks, reading people and their body language and speaking to them with sophistic tactics were well-ingrained in him, and he knew how to do battle against them.
"And the other half?" Albus asked as he took a seat opposite Mister Morrigan at the lonely table.

Arianna's shade took this time to go kneel near Hadrian's legs and stare up at him with her best owl impression. If Mister Morrigan could see souls brought back by the resurrection stone Albus was certain he would either find it adorable or annoying. Seeing as he couldn't, there was no harm in her childish behavior.

"At risk of sounding like a hippie, believe it or not, most of Divination, or at least my particular brand of it, can be boiled down to going with the flow." Hadrian explained. "The world around you, if you know how to pay attention to it, will always push you in the right direction. Call it fate, call it god, something is always looking out for you. With the right frame of mind you can walk into any situation with complete confidence that everything is going to be alright. And it will. Things do have a way of working themselves out. It does not do to dwell on fantasies of what may or may not be and forget to live."

Albus perked up at that turn of phrase. It smacked of stoic philosophies and life experience. He may very well have to steal it.

"So, having the sight has little to do with your style of Divination?" Dumbledore summarized.

"It's definitely part of it, just not a core aspect, especially if I'm going to be teaching." Hadrian explained. "When teaching somebody to fight you don't teach them to kick, you teach them how to punch, block and dodge, as they are far more effective, whereas professional martial artists strongly debate if kicking is effective in a fight at all. So, I would prefer to teach my students how to recognize when destiny comes knocking on their door and how to follow her instructions, then to try and peer into her mind and gain the rare privilege of glimpsing her horrifying machinations."

Albus found himself nodding in agreement, and approval, despite himself. This man knew his stuff. And he knew his stuff in a manner Albus wouldn't have been able to conceive of before this meeting.
"I strongly approve of this man." Said Gellert's shade. "But I don't have experience hiring for the premier magical school in western Europe."

Albus refrained from correcting the Durmstrang alumni and reminding him that it was the premiere school in ALL of Europe. It would not do to have an argument with the dead in the presence of a man who could not see them.

"I don't understand most anything he's saying." Admitted Arianna, still staring playfully at the man.

"I don't suppose you can display any ability in the more applicable skills of divination while we're here, could you?" Asked Albus.

"Certainly!" Said Hadrian. "Don't expect me to make a fully-fledged prophecy on demand, or anything like that, but I think I might be able to knock your socks off."

He rolled up his sleeves and motioned for Albus to give him his hand.

Albus hesitated on which hand to proffer, as one bore the Gaunt family ring and the other bore a curse taking his life. He opted for the one with the ring, as it was not gloved.

"Your other hand, if you'd be so kind." Hadrian corrected him.

"If it is your intention to read my lifeline, I think it would bode better for you to use my left." Albus complained while still offering his right.

Hadrian did not dignify the joke with a response as he peeled away the leather glove hiding his wound. The moment Hadrian's skin touch his own Albus could sense the other man feeling him. It was a most strange sensation, like a legilimancy probe but of the flesh, and both flinched away from one-another.
If his ability to feel magic by touch wasn't so refined he probably wouldn't even have noticed it. He put his poker face on as to not let on that he had caught wind of whatever ability the man had just displayed. He was confident that his prospective new professor hadn't caught anything, as he was shaking off the trauma of experiencing the cold agony of the withering curse eating away at him.

"Okay. Let's try that again." Hadrian insisted and indicated he was ready to take the headmaster's hand again.

Albus offered it back to him and this time he focused intently on the feeling of Hadrian probing his flesh. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, or even heard of. As if, for a time, their flesh and spirit was as one and Hadrian had complete bodily and mental awareness, not of his own body and mind, but of Albus'. Stranger still was that this ability was completely one-sided, as Albus could not feel anything from Hadrian's side of this connection.

Morrigan squeezed his eyes shut as he did whatever it was he was doing and so thankfully missed the look of awe and wonder on Albus' face, but it remained there as the man sitting opposite him dug his senses deeper into the wound. Beyond feeling the physical pain that Albus himself now lived with every day he started to draw upon the past. Echoes of what had been seeped through his hand into Hadrian's and he stole from Albus every smidgeon of information about the wound so thoroughly he might as well have been using a legilimancy probe on a baby.

Whispers of the past several days since their meeting at Saint Mungo's flowed freely through magic. His taking down of the wards around the Gaunt shack. The battle with the inferi worm(A-N 2) that guarded the treasure there. The putting on of the ring. All of these memories were now his as if he had been the one to experience them himself. And there was nothing he could do to defend himself from it.
His next words shattered Albus' world.

"You obtained this wound destroying a soul." Said Hadrian. "One piece of seven."

Albus couldn't stop the look of horror from dawning on his face, and he didn't care that Hadrian saw it as he opened his eyes and released his hand.

Seven horcruxi? Seven?! He had thought there was only the one, and he had come across it by pure happenstance. Voldemort was still immortal, and truly mad to have shattered his soul so thoroughly.

This man, Hadrian Morrigan, was going to be a trump card in this war. Dumbledore simply had to have him. Even if he didn't fully believe Arianna Figg's testimony regarding his battle divination abilities, which he now did, his power of sight alone could win it all.

"You really are a true seer." Dumbledore concluded.

"Really?!" Squeeled Arianna Dumbledore's shade. "A real psychic? What number am I thinking of?Why is the sky blue? Why was our family dog named spot? Why, why, why, why why?" (A/N 3)

Albus barely kept a straight face at his sister's antics, but failed completely when Hadrian turned to the little girl and looked her dead in the eye.

"No idea. The sky is blue because air oscillates light in the blue spectrum faster than red, plus our eyes are more sensitive to blue light and usually when a dog is named spot it's either because they have a great big spot on their coat or left a great big spot on the carpet." Hadrian answered the shade he shouldn't be able to see in the first place.

He then turned to Gellert's shade and gave him a wink.

There was dead silence in the room for nearly a minute.

"I shouldn't be saying this before the board of governors have approved you for the position." Began Albus. "But allow me to formally congratulate you on being hired onto the position of divination professor."

Albus made to leave but just before he opened the door Hadrian stopped him.

"I don't mean to patronize you, especially considering how little time you have left in this world and your much greater wisdom than mine." He began. "But I would advise caution in using the resurrection stone, especially considering your possession of the elder wand and ease of access to the cloak. Do not seek to request that your friend loan or give it to you and unite the three that ought to remain separate."

Dumbledore looked to Hadrian with confusion.

"You know where the cloak of invisibility resides?" He asked in surprise.

"You don't?" Hadrian asked in equal surprise.

Albus shook his head.

"I presume somebody I know owns it based on what you just said." Albus concluded.

"Indeed. But do not seek it out. It is by far the most dangerous and unnatural of the hollows and is best buried instead of used." Hadrian warned
Albus nodded.

"You have given me enough reason to take your advice seriously. And so I shall take it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have another meeting to be getting to in the next room over." Albus excused himself.

Hadrian nodded and Albus left. Just as he closed the door he felt Hadrian cast a litany of privacy wards on the room. A curious act, but one he wouldn't pry into.

---

As soon as Harry finished setting up the wards, he allowed the emotional dam to collapse and broke down then and there. Openly weeping without shame.

Dumbledore, the man he considered a grandfather figure, the man who had risked the fate of the entire world just to save Harry's life and give him a chance at happiness. The man who orchestrated the most complicated set of circumstances to allow Harry himself to return from death, through a combination of him being the master of the deathly hollows and playing into Voldemort's own character flaws.

And how did Harry repay him now that he had the chance to see him alive again? By killing him.
That cursed wound? That agonizing disability slowly draining the life out of the headmaster, hadn't been there days earlier when he encountered the man on the elevator. And in failing to warn him, like he should have known to, he had killed him. He had less than a year to live and it was all Harry's fault.
And for what? Because he was too much of a coward to trust and put his faith into a man that, in another world, put all of his trust and faith into him.

His decision to shoulder all of the responsibility in this world instead of sharing what he knew, even if only selectively, had just cost him dearly. And now he was committed. Now he had a time frame with which to complete his mission.

Voldemort was going down. And he was going down within the next year. Albus Dumbledore's sunset on life will be as a man gazing out at a world without a dark lord, with the war concluded and a bright future ahead of it. That would be Harry's gift to the old man. That would be Harry's sole mission from here on out, even if it killed him.

No more screwing around. No more stalling. No more hesitating in trying to determine what is and is not different in this universe. His hope that Voldemort had not made the Horcruxi had now been shattered and he knew what he had to do. But it would take so much more than to simply hunt down the artifacts and destroy them.

There were Death Eaters to woo into switching sides, people on the Muggleborn side of the war to teach empathy and assimilate into a culture they have been awful guests in and an economy to lift, kicking and screaming, out of a depression. Not to mention werewolves, vampires and other beings who go bump in the night to reiinfranchise. And he was the man to do the job, but from now on he wouldn't be doing it alone.

It was time to go to war, but not war as it had been done in the past. The peaceful war he had spent the last several weeks contemplating and scheming, until every man, woman, child and beast opened their eyes to the love they secretly held for each-other and stopped their lunacy, turning as one against the sociopathic bastard that twisted the legitimate concerns and suffering of the pureblood community into something ugly and unnatural.

"Dumbledore. Prepare to sit back, relax and enjoy your final days as I take care of everything. You've worked hard enough." Harry said with conviction as he wiped away the errant tears.

He cast a cooling charm over his eyes to get rid of any puffiness and washed his face in the sink over in the corner. He canceled the privacy charms now that he was finished with his much-needed mourning and exited the room.

Walking to the next room over he knocked on the door.

"Enter." Dumbledore's voice invited him in.

The look of confusion and worry on his face at seeing him again got a quick chuckle out of Harry.
"Right then." He said. "Let's discuss the purchase of the Shrieking Shack. I think you'll like what I plan to do with it."

Dumbledore's genuine laughter was enough to make the hefty price tag on the property worthwhile all on its own.

---

(AN-1)

- I will not tell you which organizations to donate to if you want to be charitable, but I will suggest that you be charitable to individuals in your community first. So far, the only legit organization I ever found was the innocence project, who try and prove the innocence of people wrongly convicted of crimes they did not commit. But there must be others. Just be careful. There are evil people who prey on the nature of good people. Find people in person who need help. Help them, one at a time.

A-N 2

- Go read "The Unforgiving Minute" by "Voice of The Nephilim." One of the best fics ever written. Period.

A-N 3

- Any Rolly Polly Ollie fans here? No? Okay then.​

---

​

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[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 12:
Networking Part 2
​

---

Sometime in 2003:
​

The trio exited the Las Vegas night club in a fuss. Harry, as usual, was the most fussy of the bunch. Loud, crowded places with unwanted sexual attention never suited him. And yet his friends kept insisting on trying to acclimate him to it.

"Seriously Harry. We're sorry." Said Dudley. "We're just trying to share what we enjoy with you. Never again."

Draco handed him an ice pack he conjured.

"Never seen that happen before." Said Malfoy. "Where did that girl get off accusing you of spiking her drink?"

"Might have had something to do with me rejecting her really atrocious attempts at flirting." Harry answered as he put the ice pack to his forehead where that asshole smashed a bottle of irish rum on his head. "If you consider groping a flirting tactic. Can't say I've ever tried it myself."

He understood the attention from girls they got when they went out. There was Dudley, built like a brick house from years of professional boxing. There was Draco, with his aristocratic aura balanced with the heavy serving of humble pie and wit he'd developed over the years. And then there was Harry who was… still just Harry.

"You showed a lot of restraint in not beating that guy into a puddle of sludge." Complimented Dudley.

"Same to you." Quipped Draco.

"Can we just go somewhere quiet to enjoy the lights and stars." Pleaded Harry. "I'm tired of talking about drunk idiots acting like drunk idiots."

Draco knew a place and led them there. A place he himself owned.

Ever since finishing their post-Hogwarts studies they got bored with Europe very quickly. They would still visit whenever they wanted to be surrounded by women who weren't fat, but otherwise the United States of goddamn America was their playground. Wellz their favorite playground at least. They got up to plenty of mischief in other countries.

The boxing, mixed martial arts and club scenes were what enticed his cousin on his mother's side. The unlimited opportunity for entrepreneurship is what enticed his more distant cousin on his father's side.

In just the few short years since the war Draco had become something of a schizophrenic business tycoon. Schizophrenic in the sense that there was absolutely nothing he wasn't willing to try. He would make a fast food restaurant where customers used the ingredients of the establishment along with recipes to cook their own healthy meals one week, and a straight up toothpick factory the next. Believe it or not, both were equally profitable.

The goblins absolutely loved him, not for the money he brought in, but for his creativity and business acumen. To say nothing of his name constantly being attributed with excellence. Harry was convinced the Malfoy heir could walk up to any Gringotts bank, ask for a loan to open a sex shop for nuns, and they'd approve it just to see if he could pull it off. He probably could. The man had the ever elusive "it" that made salesmen into millionaires and innovators into billionaires.

Good thing he hadn't had this weaponized force of personality during their Hogwarts days, or Harry most definitely would have landed in Slytherin.

Harry though? Harry still hadn't figured out what to do with himself. One day they would be in Florida snorkeling with manatees, the next they'd be in the gulf of Alaska surfing waves exceeding 30 feet, only to end the day enjoying shots of high quality tequila and margaritas in Mexico while ogling the scantily clad, yet still somehow classy, latina sweethearts. He'd then follow it up with a cooking class in Italy the next day, a blacksmithing course in Nippon, a belly dancing course in India and… well, you get the point.

He couldn't find his purpose. With Voldemort dead and gone his destiny was fulfilled and he was aimless. His time studying under masters of different crafts in the wizarding world - from wand making with Ollivander, to potion making under the same man who trained Severus Snape himself - all went rather well. But none of them really spoke to him.

And now? Now he was in a funk that Draco and Dudley were doing everything in their power to try and get him out of.

"Alright, third floor up here." Draco said as they came upon a highrise like any other in the city of sin.

They took the elevator and were spat out into a football stadium sized patio you never would have known was there from the outside. A quiet lounge, where people sat in booths to eat and talk. Each booth sat beneath a tree that mutated between species constantly. Harry saw one turn from Japanese cherry blossoms, to purple westeris, to sweet at magnolia, to weeping willow and a blue wisteria tree as they walked along. Each blooming with their vibrant displays of color and raining petals down on the customers where they vanished into particles of light upon touching them or the tables.

"My worldwide lounge." Draco announced. "Private booths for people to relax, talk, and meditate. No alcohol, no junk food or any other poisons of the body. Just a place to be at peace with a healthy mix of beautiful nature and classic architecture, none of that horrific brutalist crap."

He looked at Harry.

"You inspired the idea." He explained. "There are a lot more people in the world who, while despising the loud music and blatant sexuality of night clubs, still want to go out and socialize, but in a more reserved manner. I saw that nobody was capitalizing on the market and decided to fix that. I plan to have one of the capital cities of every state and country in the world."

Goddamnit Draco! Why do you have to keep throwing curve balls and impressing me like this?!

"The capital of Nevada is Carson City, you dolt." A pretty waitress commented as she passed by with a tray of hot tea.

She planted a friendly kiss of greeting on Draco's cheek and waved to Harry and Dudley before continuing on her way.

"Well. Populous cities of the world." Corrected draco. "Which usually equates to capital cities, except in the states. Tokyo's is almost finished if you feel like visiting Sue and her fiance next week?"
He hadn't seen the quiet Ravenclaw in forever, so he agreed to the date instantly.

Draco led them up a spiral metal staircase to a raised catwalk with more booths, these ones fancier than the rest and with a much better view of the Vegas skyline. There they sat down and sunk into the unnaturally soft cushions.

Harry noticed dials on the armrest of his seat and pressed one to discover that each one was also a massage chair.

"How do you keep the cost down to have a more ruffian clientele." Dudley asked as he surveyed the booths around them.

Indeed, many looked to be more of the blue collar worker variety than upper class such a lovely place would suggest.

"The Thrasher Trees, named after birds that can mimic sounds by the way, are really expensive to produce but I can sell them at a high enough profit to richer clientele who want them in their gardens." Explained Draco. "This really helps to keep the cost down as I can charge less here. And my employees are all trained to be able to transfigure the tile and booths. Most are dropouts so I don't have to pay them as exorbitantly as many more well-trained trasnfigurstionists, but I still pay them well and a lot leave more skilled than when they arrived to get better jobs. Plus without needing to pay licensing fees to serve alcohol, tobacco or food keeps the cost down.

Harry was sure the business tycoon had left out at least a dozen more cost-cutting techniques and profit motives around the business. He resisted the urge to tell Malfoy that he didn't need to reassure him that everything was not only legal, but considerate and beneficial to his employees. They were so far past that.

"And where do these Thrasher Trees come from?" Asked Harry.

"I had the idea and commissioned Pomona." He confessed. "Now that Longbottom is taking over most of her duties in his apprenticeship to be the new herbology teacher she has a lot of free time to work on her own projects. And oh boy did it turn out she's been hiding her true power level all these years!"

This was true. And if professor Sprout considered Neville to be a prodigy by comparison to her then he shuddered to think what kind of masterpieces of biology and herbology he could come up with decades down the line when he himself retired. The future was a bright and interesting place.

"Speaking of, " Said Dudley. "Have you considered trying to work with her and see if you find your calling there? You said yourself that you're intent on dipping your toes into every little thing the world has to offer, after all."

Harry pulled out the handy dandy notebook he kept in his breast pocket, turned to the bookmarked section on possible careers, and added herbology to the list. He still had a couple hundred to go through. From restaurant dishwasher to astronaut, but he was sure he could fit "creating abominations against god and nature with Pomona Sprout" somewhere between the two.
Another server came by with a tray of jasmine tea and, after giving Draco a fist bump, served them before leaving. The former ponce was a king in all of his domains and if not friendly with then at least respected by all of his employees.

Just then the thrasher tree of their booth turned into cherry blossoms again.

"Why do you two do this?" Harry asked.

He elaborated when they looked at him quizzically.

"Why do you guys put so much time and money into helping with all…" he made a motion about his head. "The problems I have up here."

They weren't the only ones who did everything in their power to drag him, often kicking and screaming, out of his man cave at the refurbished Grimmauld Place, but they were the most insistent.
It was a funny story, actually. After the war he had taken on so much responsibility trying to help everybody else recover from their wounds, physical and spiritual, that he forgot to take care of himself. Reuniting lost lovers, raising Teddy, and all around just helping people with the wars within themselves; it all kept him so busy. He must have kept a really good poker face as he did so, because it was years before somebody thought to ask themselves "Hey! Now wait a minute. This guy who gave the most, lost the most and hurt the most during the war… maybe he isn't alright?"

And he wasn't alright. But once one person figured it out, they all found out. The speed at which everybody in his generation, from all four houses and beyond, switched gears to make time for him was so very heartwarming if a bit annoying at times. Not to mention confusing, as each person tried to share their coping mechanisms with him.

Dean would take him out to the ball game(any ball game really, but usually football). Hermione kept wanting to share her joy of learning, but eventually gave up on making him read dry scientific journals and instead watch documentaries on movie nights. Ron was great. He would invite him out and they would just sit there. Quietly.

Then there were the girls. Several tried dating him and a few succeeded. However, something about a girl dating you because they think you're broken and their "divine pussies" will somehow cure it turned out to be creepier than it sounded in hindsight. Most of them were worse lays than the fangirls he, regrettably, allowed into his life. So he quashed future attempts at that. Especially after a few weeks with Daphne "I design my own lingerie and you have to see/touch me in ALL of them!" Greengrass. She actually cut it off herself when she realized she was a bit too much for him to handle. Her unashamed and unrestrained sexuality nearly fried his much more shy and demure brain to a crisp She was still sweet to him years later though.

He stopped dating entirely after that. Between his experience with the idol-worshippers, the pitt fucks and Luna when he was studying with Ollivander, he realized he had no business dating. It was inconsiderate in the extreme to waste other people's time building relationships you weren't ready for because you haven't worked your own shit out yet. So he didn't.

There were more people who tried to help him, but everyone was a bit too busy adulting to put too much time into him. All recently married, pregnant or raising their new kids. Everyone except Draco and Dudley. Together they were the three "manchildren" as the bitter girls they refused to marry called them. And boy did they have fun. The concept that men didn't have to marry women on women's time schedule but could choose to do so on theirs was just a foreign concept to many. They planned to stop enjoying the bachelor life if and when they wanted to, thank you very much!

"That's a ridiculous question." Said Draco. "We owe you."

"Everyone owes you." Added Dudley. "I barely get around to Diagon or Hogwarts to substitute in Muggle Studies anymore, but I know people haven't forgotten about you or how much you've done."

Harry shook his head.

"No! Like. Why do you guys put so much more time, effort and energy into it than anybody else?" Harry elaborated. "And don't say because you have the free time, between your thousand side hustles and your constant training and boxing matches you're both a lot busier than you pretend."

The two blonde men shared a glance. Dudley nutted up first.

"Harry. My childhood was pretty much perfect." He explained. "I was too spoiled, too fat and too happy. And that happiness came at the proveable cost of your happiness."

… it wasn't the worst explanation. Dudley wanting to make up for all the Harry hunting and sleeping under the stairs made sense.

"A bit of the same for me honestly." Added Draco. "My parents should have been imprisoned at the end of the first war, not the second, and our mostly-misbegotten wealth distributed to victims on both sides of the conflict much earlier."

A lot of people were suspicious when Draco liquidated his entire heritage of his own accord and spent it all helping to rebuild the magical world after his parents went to the newly built(and dementor-free) Azkaban 2.0. But that new leaf he turned over was genuine. And after living with his aunt and Harry for a little while, helping around the house and being an extra parent to Teddy, he decided to get up and leave in order to build up a new empire of businesses, small and large, brick by brick when one day he just decided that he missed being rich. But he wanted to earn it this time.

He really did just get up one day and announce to Harry and Andromeda "I'm tired of being a bum. I'm off to go get rich again. See you in a few months." Before walking out the front door with just the clothes on his back. And forsooth, when they next saw him, four months later, he had a budding real-estate business and a produce shipping company. He was already expanding into other little things even then.

"Instead I grew up in one of the richest families in the country. To say little of how awful I was to you in our school days." Draco finished.

"And there's the little, teensy-weensy fact that you saved my life and soul!" Bellowed Dudley. "Literally and figuratively."

"A lot of the former literally for me, even more of the latter figuratively." Draco amended.

Harry considered this. He'd saved a lot of people's lives, and several people's souls over the war. Both literally and figuratively. But none of them had such a sordid history of benefitting at his expense. So yeah, they sort of did owe him, but that didn't mean he wanted it. He was about to say as much when Draco's next words shut him up completely.

"Everything I've built up from nothing. All of my wealth, resources and contacts. All of it and my life belong to you." Said Draco. "If you merely ask I will hand it over to you or burn it to the ground and start anew."

Harry was so starstruck by the heartfelt confession that he could only glance at Dudley.

"Oh yeah, no, what he said." His cousin added before sipping his tea awkwardly.

Harry was so touched by the declarations of fealty that he could do nothing but drink his tea in silence. A silence which they respected until the tea was gone.

"Oh by the way, the Harpies are in town training for their match with the Arizona Phoenixes." Draco said. "Ginevra invited me, and by extension you, to spend the weekend playing pickup games with them."

Oh Ginny and her team were here? Well who was he to deny an ex-girlfriend the chance to pummel him in a Quidditch match.

"Who else will be playing?" He asked.

"Viktor is dropping by since their current seeker is out of it and they asked him to help train her up." Draco explained. "I also got George, Lee and Angela to take a break from running the joke shops to join us."

"So you want me to play seeker while you and Angelina play chaser and George and lee do the beating?" Harry summed up. "Against the Holyhead Harpies, who have three of the best chasers ever to play in the circuit, not to toot Ginny's horn too loudly…"

"Her horn deserves tootin, but continue your whinging." Said Draco.

"To top it off they will have the single greatest seeker in the world playing on their side." Harry summed up. "Are we going to follow it up by accepting an arm-wrestling match with Hagrid?"
Draco kept that unbearable smirk on the entire time Harry let loose his diatribe.

"Well for one we have one of the best beaters to have ever lived, and yes I actually crunched the numbers on George's fitness tests and it was in the top ten." Draco said. "I'm just shy of being a professional level chaser myself. And Ginevra will be playing on our team."

Harry was silent for a moment. That was almost a fair matchup.

"It's just practice isn't it?" Said Dudley. "They're not inviting you to humiliate you but to help build up their new guy."

"Girl. They only have girls in the Holyhead Harpies." Draco corrected.

"Can't they get sued for discrimination?" Asked Dudley.

"Nope." Draco answered without further explanation.

"I'm in." Harry said before their conversation could go any further. "But my old firebolt is hardly up to modern professional broom standards."

Draco looked like Sylvester after successfully catching Tweety bird. He reached underneath his seat and pulled out what could only be described as a motorcycle helmet designed for war in space.

"We have also been recruited to test out the new prototype Auburn brand racing brooms."

"The car company?" Asked Dudley.

"Yup. Both teams will be completely fitted, but just for these practice games." Draco explained. "We get to fly the most dangerous brooms yet designed, and they get data with which to make them less dangerous. Win, win."

When he said it like that it sounded like a really good deal. But there was a part of it he wasn't quite catching.

"But why the helmets? Won't we be playing with nets and cushioning charms anyways?" Harry asked.

"Oh of course! We're insane, not stupid!" Said Draco. "The helmets and suits aren't to protect us from impacts. They're to protect us from the air catching under our eyes or noses and ripping our faces off."

Suits? He looked at the helmet and figured there must be some nascar-like onesies to go with them. He'd worn dumber things in the past.

But what he said was true. There weren't any charms or enchantments to help with wind resistance, at least not ones you can put on human skin. And if there were they would be banned in professional Quidditch as performance enhancers anyways, same as the impervious charms he needed to put on his glasses during particularly stormy games. Or at least used to, before getting lasik surgery. He still wore glasses most of the time, but they were dummy lenses and more for comfort than anything else. If you spend the first 20 or so years of your life wearing glasses you'll feel naked when you no longer need them too.

"It sounds like you might be overselling me on how impressive these brooms are." Said Harry.

That weekend proved Draco was not, in fact, overselling him on the capabilities of these experimental brooms. The first time he went full speed he nearly went into cardiac arrest(exaggeration, but only barely) from the sudden change from zero to six g's. With that lesson learned they were all ready to play ball again.

Maybe it was how great it was seeing Ginny, George, Lee Jordan and Viktor again. Maybe it was just that he missed the sport and maybe it was just because he ABSOLUTELY DEMOLISHED the Holyhead Harpies' backup seeker and managed to make Viktor sweat for his win. But by the end of that day he was sold on his career path, even if he was in agony the next day from being so out of practice and having overexerted his body. So he would need to be trained back up.

He happily crossed off "creating abominations against god and nature with Pomona Sprout" from his handy dandy notebook. Along with every other possible career path, big or small, he had yet to try.

Quidditch really was in his blood. And on that day he discovered what so many people had meant when they had told him "you have to start working eventually."

The usual remark he refrained from making was something along the lines of "I inherited the fortune of the Black family, I don't have to work a single day for the rest of my life unless I so choose." But work makes the souls sing and keeps a man humble and strong. Not to mention sane.

Viktor and Draco had him starting a three-month Quidditch bootcamp a week later.

This was all rather surprising considering their team had lost, and lost badly.
​

---

August 1996, Different Universe
​

---

Dumbledore led Harry around his new property and seemed to be trying his hardest to downplay how great the property is.

Harry knew full well, even without his expanded senses, that the structure was in far better condition than it appeared. The cracks, chipped paint and dirt, not to mention boarded up windows, were all surface level. The equivalent of soaking paper in coffee to make it look more aged than it was.
Harry himself got tired of Dumbledore's obvious and humorous charade about the place being haunted and the multiple contradictory stories about the horrors that had taken place there. The man was deliberately making it obvious that he was lying just to be cheeky. And so, with a wave of his hands Harry began his first display of wandless magic for the old man.

Clearing out all of the debris, trash and rocks in the first thirty meters around the property and following it up with a weak, large area of effect cutting charm to remove the overgrown weeds, grass and bushes. After a few minutes they all sat neatly in a pile on the newly cut lawn. From there he ripped every single board covering the windows and doors of the house, nails and all. That last one had taxed him enough to make him sweat and start to breathe laboriously. So, with calm, deep breaths he focused on slowly levitating the unwanted boards and nails from their individual places in the sky down into the same pile of stone, trash, grass, weeds and bushes.

He only had one last thing to do on the exterior, save for clearing out the remaining debris, trash, rocks, trash, weeds and bushes in the three or so acres of land surrounding the shack. He allowed his magic to slowly wash over the exterior surface of the building and crawling along it. He proceeded to peel away the ancient, ruined paint. This wasn't a spell, but wild, focused magic bending to his will and skill as opposed to any magical foci, years of theory and practice. It was the magical equivalent of scrubbing a house down with an invisible sheet of sandpaper.

When he was done the shack, which itself was a perfectly livable home, looked almost ready to move into. The dark wood exposed to the air was nearly pristine and needed only a new paint job. A proper one, done by hand.

"Whoo! I need to exercise more." Harry joked when the exhaustion finally hit him and he bent over to catch his breath.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been trying to impress the old man, and the look of approval on his face showed it had worked. Damn, did that feel good!

"That was such beautiful magic, mister Morrigan." Complimented Dumbledore. "Thank you for giving me the privilege of seeing it."

"Stick around. You haven't seen anything yet" Harry wanted to say but refrained. He needed to remain humble, so instead he said: "I foresee seeing much more beautiful magic, and beautiful acts, come from you in this, your final year." He said in all honesty. "As the sun sets on your life you will see the world you love begin to live up to the great promise it always held."

It was always a great pleasure leaving old folk speechless with flattery, especially when it wasn't a lie to butter them up.

"Is that a deduction or divination?" Dumbledore asked.

"A little bit of both." Harry answered half-honestly. "Door?"

"Hm? Oh!" Said Dumbledore as he fumbled for the key to the front door.

Finding it, he unlocked the entrance and swung the door open. The air suddenly reeked of dust, disrepair and neglect. Dumbledore motioned for Harry to stand back before drawing the elder wand.
With a few swishes through the air, he created a delicate gust of wind that he sent inside. Harry wasn't familiar with the spell, but it was loud. He heard furniture being thrown aside, dishes crashing, and curtains being torn asunder as the whirlwind tore through the building.

Dumbledore had the gall to hum a cute tune and twiddle his thumbs the entire time.

"Ah! I think it should be safe to enter." Said Dumbledore when the spell ended.

As they did so it was to find a home in disrepair but bereft of dust and furniture. The wallpaper would all have to be replaced, as would most of the plaster from the deep claw marks Remus had left during his monthly confinements here. Plus, the wood, all of it, would need to be sanded and polished.
There goes his weekend.

"Would you mind opening a few windows?" Harry asked.

With a wave of his wand Dumbledore opened every last one and they continued the tour. From the entrance hall to the living room, where the whirlwind had deposited all of the ruined furniture and dust of the home into a pile reminiscent of the room of hidden things. Everything was in far better condition than could be expected. The cellar which he had never been in was large enough to serve as a storage area for all the potion ingredients he would ever need and the food pantry beside the kitchen was nearly as large as the master bedroom, which he planned to turn into military style barracks. Same for the living room and the other bedrooms.

"It's perfect." Said Harry as they exited the attic, which he would of course be converted to an office.
"I'm glad you like it. But might I ask, of all the buildings in the world to turn into a refuge for werewolves near the full moon, why this one?"

Harry shrugged.

"Walked past it one day and got the overwhelming feeling that it would be a great place for a werewolf to hide." He said. "And then as I thought about it, I realized with the wide-open spaces around it and proximity to Hogwarts it would allow a good range of visibility to see any would be hunters and make it more plausible for younger people afflicted to attend Hogwarts, if parents could be assured that their children would be safe during those days. But that's a bit further down the future, isn't it?"

Now he was outright lying, but he had the excuse of being a seer to lean on when he needed to explain how he knew things he shouldn't, so you're damn right he was going to abuse it! He didn't mean to make Dumbledore's eyes twinkle so hard as to be blinding.

"I can vanish the old furniture unless you want to repair it?" Dumbledore offered as they passed the living room again.

"Oh no! I'll burn it in a bonfire tonight." Said Harry. "Vanishing things makes me… uncomfortable."
Dumbledore looked at him curiously.

"Whatever does it do?" The old man asked.

"Are you familiar with the laws of thermodynamics?" Asked Harry.

"Of course." Dumbledore hummed.

"Well, many a wizard has asked if matter and energy cannot be created or destroyed, then wherefore does matter erased through magic go?" Harry explained. "And some have found the answer. It is horrifying. I'd rather not talk about it."

Dumbledore nodded consideringly.

"I'll have to look into that myself then." He eventually said. "And I shall refrain from vanishing to dispose of things until I find the answer. Is there a similarly terrifying answer for the origins of conjured matter?"

Harry scoffed.

"You know as well as I do, conjured matter isn't real. Just magic shaping into a form of our imagining and imitating the properties we want it too, and all conjured things eventually return to nothing." Harry recited as if by rote from his NEWT study guide.

Dumbledore nodded approvingly, and only then did Harry realize he was still being interviewed, this time in his theoretical knowledge in regard to transfiguration. Albus Dumbledore had always been openly biased in favor of skill in Transfiguration as the mark of a great wizard. He had good reason for the bias, but bias it still was.

"Well, the transfer in ownership for the deed is signed and sealed and sent off to Gringotts." Said Dumbledore. "As soon as they approve the transaction and transfer the money, I'm sure they will allow you to pick it up."

Harry nodded and shook Dumbledore's hand goodbye. For now, at least.

"And if you need any further help setting up your nonprofit, I know a few people who would be happy to help." He said before leaving with not a crack, but a whisper on the wind.

Harry immediately re-entered the shack and began checking for any residual magic with his senses. Wards, spying charms, cursed objects, anything. When those turned up squat, he went down the back hall to where the passage to the whomping willow ought to be. There was no trapdoor, nor was there anything beneath the flooring where the trapdoor ought to be. He could feel that it had once been there but not for a very long time.

He would have suspected Dumbledore of having sealed it up ahead of time knowing he might be selling the property but threw that idea aside. More likely, with the war of attrition going on endlessly and being a more worldwide phenomenon than strictly English, as it had been in his world, the headmaster likely sealed it up after Remus graduated. It would not do to have an easily accessible passage into the castle. He wondered to himself if the others had been sealed up too. To his knowledge, all of the Marauders were alive in this universe, and allied with Dumbledore. They were bright men and would surely have shared their knowledge of the passageways with him.

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he advanced onto the living room. With a flick of his wand he levitated all of the crap and dust and guided it all through the front door. Depositing it onto the now doubly large pile of trash to be burned. He took a deep breath and sat on the grass.

And like that all motivation to do work left him.

Even though he was nowhere near magical exhaustion, dealing with Dumbledore had taken its toll on his mind and energy levels. Be wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again, so stressful had his meetings with the old man he loved dearly.

It was then that he heard the fluttering of wings and looked up to see Hedwig, significantly slimmer than when he purchased her, coming in for a landing. He smiled as she glided to his side and nestled into his side.

Their familiar bond was finally starting to form. His old Hedwig could always tell when he needed her comfort, which had been often. He stroked her feathers as he got lost in thinking about nothing.

It was a lovely afternoon. Warm sunlight with intermittent clouds and the smell of freshly cut grass all around him. Shame he only had Hedwig to share it with, seeing as crookshanks wasn't the cuddliest. Plus he didn't feel like picking him up from Ollivander's and coming back.

"Expecto patronum." Harry whispered, then spoke to the stag which appeared. "Bellatrix: I just purchased the Shrieking shack. If you aren't too busy, won't you join me here? Please bring a blanket if you can."

He sent off the message and eased back into resting on the ground. For a few minutes he continued to enjoy the silence in his mind when a loud crack announced the arrival of his impromptu date.
"Must you keep a lady waiting!" She called once she reached earshot, a thin picnic blanket held to her chest. "I've heard nothing since your letter the other day!"

harry smiled wanly at her, knowing her real complaint was that he had yet to invite her to dinner with the Crabbe family. He was certain word had gotten to her that he has asked Valentine if he could bring a date. Seeing as he knew who he had in mind, it wasn't a leap word had somehow gotten to her through whatever network of gossipers connected the two. And so, he made no excuses but instead scooped Hedwig into his arms and stood up to introduce them.

"This is my familiar, Hedwig." Said Harry. "We met just a few weeks ago, and I've been working overtime on helping her lose weight. She's doing great."

Bellatrix smiled at the amber-eyed owl and stroked her brow with a single finger in greeting. Hedwig did not object.

"Is this a comfy place to put down the blanket and have a lay down?" Bellatrix asked. "I presume the interior is not yet presentable?"

Harry nodded and soon he, Hedwig and Bellatrix were sitting together. Him sprawled out and propped up by his elbows, utterly relaxed and her with her legs folded beneath her and sitting upright like royalty. They sunbathed for a few minutes, but the conversation simply had to begin anew.

"I really am sorry about not writing to you earlier." Said Harry. "I've had a rather busy week thus far and only just caught a breather."

"Oh, you don't need to tell me. I'm a lady, don't you know?" She said mysteriously. "And we can tell when a man, any man, has had a very stressful day."

She looked at him crookedly and held a finger to her bottom lip as if deep in thought.

"You present me with a difficult choice here. I have two sisters in very different marriages. One takes her husband having a bad day as the opportunity to whine and make it worse, mostly for her own amusement but also to get things out of him. The other moves mountains to make him feel heard and wanted." She explained. "Which one should I imitate?"

Harry grinned at her joking and had no difficulty guessing which sister was which.

"I think I shall take my lessons from the sister who has built a loving home and family, one that can be happy with or without the finer things in life." She decided. "Here you are exhausted, and here I am with a perfectly soft lap to lay your head. Come. Rest, and tell me all about your day."

She patted her lap and he took the invitation. With one beautiful bird laying in his arms, and he laying in the arms of another beautiful bird, he spilled his guts. He told her the truncated and selectively edited version of his day. How he had come to Hogsmeade to interview with the great Albus Dumbledore and got the position, only to then also convince the old man to sell the Shrieking shack. This then led the conversation back around to the nonprofit he was trying to make.

Bellatrix kept quiet the entire time, making no judgement or criticisms of his plans, even as he went into detail about them. Keeping her promise to listen.

He considered telling her about Dumbledore's impending death and how sad that had made him, but he wasn't sure if he trusted her enough yet with that information. She was after all still Bellatrix Black. And knowledge can be dangerous.

"I'm probably going to spend the rest of the day cleaning up the interior and then tending to the grounds.A nd tomorrow I have to go back to Gringotts to meet with the board of nonprofit funding." Harry finished. "But tonight I have a plus one dinner invitation with the Crabbe family, and I would like you to be my plus one."

That was the one thing she couldn't bite her tongue over and audibly winced.

"I don't want to shoot down your aspirations or anything, but maybe reconsider that meeting." She said. "That board hasn't approved funding for any nonprofit in… ever."

Harry looked at her. Half-amused at her sidestepping his invitation for a date, another genuinely curious at her reasoning.

"Really? Why not?" Asked Harry.

"They're goblins. They will not invest in a thing if it does not make money, and the whole point of a nonprofit is to be unprofitable." She explained.

Harry frowned.

Neither of those statements were true in his experience.

Goblins care about profit, sure, but they care more about success and doing great things no matter the expense. If they failed to approve any charities in so long, it's because none of them showed promise in achieving their mandate.

As for charities being profitable, plenty of places have tried and succeeded in giving free food in exchange for a smidgeon of labor, usually dishwashing or cleaning, and even Draco had options available at his healthy cook-it-yourself restaurant for those who were broke. Cook the food for ten others, get a meal for yourself. Hell, some people became de facto employees this way and wound up with a paid, full-time job.

And like that the possible applications of a hundred fully lucid werewolves as laborers suddenly struck him… Holy shit, if only he had his Draco there right then so they could hash it out. He had planning to do.

"I bet you they'll approve mine." Harry said with a devilish grin.

"Oh yeah, and what is it you're betting?" She challenged.

"I bet you one long, wet sloppy kiss" he tapped his cheek "right here."

"I see." She said, returning his grin. "And what do I get if you fail?"

"I'll clean your house, or, er apartment?" He asked.

"I rent my own apartment." She confirmed.

"I'll clean it top to bottom, and in men's lingerie." He finished his bet. "But for your eyes only."
She didn't even bother to consider it before offering her hand.

"Why Mister Morrigan, I do believe you have yourself a deal." She said as they made for the world's most awkward handshake due to their body positions. "Now go back to Ollivander's and get dressed, you are nowhere near presentable enough for a dinner with a pureblood family."

---

Harry never understood the obsession with dressing for dinner. Sure, Muggles used to do so as recently as a half century ago, but not to the point of putting on their Sunday best. Especially since wearing your best clothes for a meal always risked ruining said clothes with a wine spill or the omnipresent splatter of spaghetti sauce, even when paradoxically eating mashed potatoes and steak. The eternal paradox of "When the hell did I get spaghetti sauce on my shirt?!" seemed like much less of a concern for people with cleaning charms that could find and erase even the most obnoxious of mustard stains, so there was that.

And so, he left Garrick's shop that evening in the same green and black robes as before. They were the closest thing to dress clothes he had and would impress nobody, but he was at least presentable. Dumbledore might approve of a regular dress shirt and slacks with tie, but the Crabbes wouldn't. Besides, He knew Valentine would let them know to go easy on him as n outsider to pureblood society.

And so, when he flooed from the leaky cauldron to the Crabbe estate he was pleased to see a younger, and very much alive, Vincent waiting for him in tones down dress robes.

"Welcome to the Crabbe estate, Mister Morrigan." Vincent greeted. "I will take your coat if you have one and escort you to the living room, where your date is already waiting."

Seeing as it was August and hot as hell, they skipped hanging his fictional coat and Harry let the polite young man guide him through the familiar building. He'd only been there a few times, and it was nice to see it in such decent shape. When they reached the room it was to find everyone waiting for him.
"Morrigan! Welcome." Valentine greeted, standing up from where he sat beside his son and daughter in law. "And congratulations on your interview and purchase.

He approached for another handshake as everybody else stood at his arrival and approached in time to exchange handshakes of their own.

"Vincent Crabbe senior, at your service." The Death Eater greeted with a handshake of his own.
And he was a Death Eater. Harry could feel the taint of the dark mark on his wrist through his sixth sense, and a similar one on Mrs Crabbe who offered a white satin glove hand for him to kiss, which he did. The gloves went all the way up to her elbows and was strangely all the fashion with pureblood women these days. But aside from the mark she was lovely. A chubby woman, the kind who wound up shapely with all the padding inexplicably filling her cheeks into big, soft rosy smiles.

Positively adorable, that woman.

"I hope Belaltrix didn't burn through what few interesting conversation topics I have to share while waiting for me." harry said as the woman approached him.

Again, white satin gloves. It so didn't match the black dress, honey. But ladies gotta cover for each other, don't ya know?

"Of course not, Hadrian." Bellatrix said. "I only got here a few minutes ago. All I had to tell them was that you interviewed with Dumbledore and bought a house. I'm so looking forward to you sharing the details that you barely gave me earlier."

That was fair. He had been pretty sparce, only giving her the generals of what happened. Not necessarily the why.

"Well we have an entire meal with which to get those details." Valentine said. "If you would follow me into the dining room, we can get started on that."

​

---

​

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Chapter 13:​

Networking Part 3​

---

The entourage of purebloods, plus Harry, entered the lavish dining hall and seated themselves around one end of the table. Vincent Senior took his seat at the head with his wife to the right and son to the left of him. Valentine sat on the seat next to his grandson and Harry next to him. Bellatrix sat directly across from Harry, leaving a seat empty between herself and Mrs Crabbe.

As soon as they sat down food appeared on their plate and bowl. A simple salad and what Harry recognized as cream of potato soup. Beside each bowl was a glass of white wine.

The philosophy of pureblood dining matched the traditional European philosophy of dining. Fill up on vegetables, savor the meat afterwards. Cherish the desert at the end.
Harry was at least cultured enough to know a salad fork and soup spoon amongst the cutlery on his placemat, so he dug in.

"I understand you interviewed for a Hogwarts professorship." Valentine began the conversation. "How do you intend to juggle that along with your duties as a head of house? Being on the board of governors and wizengomat are both full time jobs themselves."

"Simple." Said Harry. "I don't. I have no business dictating how Hogwarts should be run, seeing as I'm not even an alumni. Hence the professorship. A few years or decades of that and then maybe I can take it up. Same for the Wizengamot. I'm not Dumbledore, I can't juggle three full-time jobs and a war."

"Do you intend to leave those seats vacant?" Mrs Crabbe asked. "They've remained so for long enough, don't you think?"

Translation: You're leaving a lot of power and influence on the table.

It was a sensible observation. If he put all of his focus on balancing his seat on the Wizengamot and board of governors, he could make some serious changes. Be the feather that tilts the scales as it were. But in combination with all the other things he needed to focus on that would be too many things to juggle. He would only wind up doing each poorly.

"I plan to find proxies to take my place for both within the next year, but it will be a long time before I'm suited to do either. No, right now I need to establish myself through my own works. Whatever those works wind up being. I need to become laser focused on one or two things for now." He explained. "Besides, what's the rush? I can expect to live another century, my own capacity to get into dangerous situations notwithstanding. I can take up these other roles in five years or fifty years. I have a lot of life left to live before I'm ready to do so."

Valentine nodded with every word in approval of the wisdom in them.

"Is that why you sold off all of the Morrigan stocks and bonds? To relieve yourself of the extra work of managing so many accounts?" He asked.

"Partly. Also because all of those investments were made by people far more business savvy than me, but they did so a century ago. As such, most were very likely to be poor investments by now. But as with the wizengamot and board of governors I lack the knowledge and experience to judge them. Better to do away with all of them and use the funds they freed up for building a life for myself." Harry explained. "I can rebuild such investments at a later date. Once I start working, I can start putting money into stocks based on wise advice from a financial firm or mentor down the line."

Vincent senior stepped in.

"But what of the lump sum you just received from cashing out of the stock market?" He asked. "Why not just reinvest it using your seer abilities and drown in galleons?"

Bellatrix and Mrs Crabbe both snorted into their wine at that question.

"You mean beyond the fact that using divination for financial investments being illegal and easily tracked?" Harry asked rhetorically. "I'm not that kind of seer. I'm more of a personal seer. More postcognitive than precognitive. I can see and feel the histories of people and objects, rarely their futures. Current emotions and states too."

It wasn't lying when everything he said was technically true.

"Then what are you going to do with the sudden wealth you've found yourself with?" Mrs Goyle asked.

"Well, I bought a house." Harry said. "Can't exactly live in Ollivander's spare room forever. Besides, isn't it a requirement to participate in politics that I have to own property? Be invested in the land."

"That hasn't been the case since before I was your age." Valentine said. "Back then it was also a requirement to be married with children. The logic being that if you are both financially and genetically invested in making a better future, you will make choices they believe will ensure such. It did not always pan out that way."

Yeah, the assumption that a man or woman will actually love and cherish children and property they only created or developed out of duty was a patently incorrect one. Plenty of pureblood heirs and heiresses squandered the family wealth or took part in corruption for personal gain just to leave the children and spouses they hated with nothing but the ill-reputation the individuals responsible earned them.

"I think I want to bring that back." Harry declared after a moment of consideration. "Not by law, but as a personal standard. I think I'll wait until I've successfully raised and kept a family before getting into politics. Raise at least once child to adulthood. Should give me plenty of time to get established and build a reputation so everybody knows how to work with me. Plus seeing Hogwarts from the perspective of a parent as well as a teacher will make me all the more suited to taking my place on the board of governors."

"My goodness, mister Morrigan. You certainly do work fast." Bellatrix said in a teasing voice. "Here I was thinking we would at least date for a while, yet here you are skipping right over the courtship and marriage and going straight to putting children into me."

Harry had the good manners to blush almost as deeply as Vincent junior at the teasing and laughter it elicited. The unexpected foot rubbing against his leg, on the other hand, made him nearly jump out of his skin.

Down girl! This isn't the time for that sort of thing.

"At least you have a time frame in mind." Mrs Crabbe continued the teasing. "That gives you, what, seventeen years and nine months before you're ready for the full duties of your lordship?"

This time the joke seemed to be at Bellatrix' expense, based on the scorching glare she sent Mrs Goyle's way. It was the eldest present who came to the rescue.

"Ladies, we are at the dinner table. Let's not get into verboten topics." He asked with a placating hand gesture.

"Well, I mean. We've spent the entire time so far discussing politics and finances, so why not add sex and religion to complete the whole quarfecta of forbidden dinnertime discussion topics?" Harry said.

And with that zinger even Valentine broke from his usual stoicism to laugh.

After that the conversations sizzled down to more polite topics. They asked about his new home and he droned on about the work he had left to do on it and how he would have to spend the rest of the week repainting it and buying new furniture. Not to mention curtains, rugs, appliances and gah! They sympathized with him. His explanation for working for Ollivander, that he merely needed somebody to work the desk while he did some cutting edge research, was readily accepted. Though, the disappointment in learning that he was not, in fact, his apprentice and successor surprised everyone, especially Bella.

"I may be good at matching customers with wands and identifying issues with them, but making and caring for wands? Far beyond my ability and Garrick could tell that from the beginning. No, I really was just there for the busy summer." Harry explained.

From there Vincent junior was the chatterbox, talking his ear off about his experiences taking divination classes at Hogwarts and how he couldn't wait to have a competent teacher in the subject. The little worm was trying to weasel into his prospective teacher's good graces. Still, it was good to see the young man having a good time. Not to mention alive and not reduced to ash by fiendfyre. That was nice too.

---

Harry started his Thursday by exiting the wizarding world into Muggle London for the first time in far too long.

It was an overcast day with a light drizzle and hefty fog, which was rare weather for London (sarcasm). But transparent umbrella in the other, and a smile on his face. He made his way towards a store he had not visited since his time dating Daphne when she would draft him into escorting her to boutiques to sell her creations.

A custom lingerie store.

This one usually took design recommendations, more appropriately called commissions, from customers and hired out designers like Daphne to make them. But they still had a few stock brands that sold often. Everybody with a sex life needs to buy prophylactics and blindfolds, after all. One never knew when a good blindfold could come in handy.

Harry went into the tiny corner reserved for male lingerie, chuckled at the mannequin decorated in Tim Curry's transvestite outfit—makeup, perm, and all—and nabbed two pairs of underwear. One ostensibly looked like a banana hammock but felt far more comfortable, and the other was a pair of silk boxers. Outside of a well-fitted suit and tie and oddly specific fetishes, these were pretty much men's main options for lingerie in the eyes of women. Picky, those creatures.

The teller rang him up with a bored look on her face and Harry sympathized. He had that same despondent look of boredom with all things erotic after a few weeks with Daph. Being oversexed will do that to a person.

Last he heard of the blonde she was engaged to Dennis Creevey of all people. He imagined their relationship involved a lot of light whipping, bindings, and the formerly tiny boy being stepped on with high heels while blindfolded; or at least, that's how he imagined their tamer nights. People used to really feel for Dennis over his brother's death. People in the know came to envy him.

But speaking of being stepped on while wearing a blindfold.

"One super soft pair of blindfolds while I'm at it." He requested.

And like that he was back on his way to Diagon Alley.

He made a quick stop at Ollivander's to put his things away—in the incredibly unlikely event that he lost his bet—then down to Gringotts. Business/nonprofit proposal in hand.
His waltzes through Diagon Alley had become increasingly less dreary with each passing day. Even on this particularly dreary day, he received more smiles and waves from the denizens of wizarding Britain's favorite shopping center than he had the day before. From shop owners to the increasing number of children being allowed to play in these streets again to the parents watching said children with a protective eye.

Some people had confided in him that, for some reason they couldn't explain, the world at large had started to seem like a much brighter place recently. As if the war of attrition that had taken so much from them—spiritually, financially, physically—just didn't matter as much anymore. Like it was such a silly thing that they ought not spend every second obsessing over.

Harry had no idea where this new outlook was coming from, and he would continue to deny any such knowledge if asked. but he would continue doing his work to make this trend continue.

It was a baby step, especially in this world where Voldemort had spread his more insidious war to every nation on earth instead of just focusing on Britain. He was only one man and couldn't smack people back into reality at a pace anywhere near fast enough. The hundred thousand or so wizards in the U.K. were within his reach. But the tens of millions worldwide? All of whom speak different languages—if not literally then culturally—and whom he didn't have the local sensitivities to reach out to? For that, he'd need to recruit some fellow men of zany character.

He knew exactly where to start when the time came, but first, his mission into the depths of Gringotts.

He entered the complex of marble and stone only to be quickly led into the backrooms. He passed winding corridors of offices, private board meeting rooms, and even less pleasant places. It was all just as confusing to navigate as the maze of caves below ground. Somehow getting lost up here seemed like a more dangerous proposition than getting lost down there. In the tunnels, he could blast his way through any obstacle that tried to confront him. Up here he might be cornered by a ministry official of the Percy Weasley variety, and manners would prevent him from killing them like he would kappas.
With his worst nightmare at the forefront of his mind, he stuck close to the poor goblin in charge of guiding him. The short guy walked deceptively quickly.

"Here you are," the guide said in front of a pair of ornate double doors, "I will come to fetch you when your meeting is over."

He then bowed and walked back the way they had come.

"Welp. Here goes nothing!" Harry said as steadied himself and pushed the doors open into...

A ballroom. It was a ballroom. An enormous one that reminded him of the Yule Ball. It was filled to the brim with tables organized into pairs and trios and on each table was a mountain of boxes, folders, and documents. At the very center of the room was a long table at which sat five glowering goblins, the leftmost two looking positively ancient and the rightmost looking younger than any other goblin he'd yet to meet.

He'd never seen a baby goblin, as it was considered to be inconsiderate by goblins to bring an infant out into public where their fussing would disturb other people. Bringing a baby onto a plane or into a theatre was about as inconsiderate as screaming racial epithets in a crowded place to them. Goblin culture had some excellent policies.

"Mister Morrigan. You may enter," the leftmost and eldest of the goblins called across the vast room by way of greeting.

Harry returned the greeting with a nod and shut the double doors behind him before approaching the long table. He blinked in confusion at the name tags.

Smicklehook, they all read.

Harry assumed they were five generations in the same family. Nepotism much?. It helped that they skipped delineating which was which with numbers next to their names, but instead by left-to-right in order of their seating arrangements.

"Let's get straight into business. You are here to try and gain additional funding for your non-profit," said the middle Schmicklehook, "a homeless shelter for werewolves."
Harry nodded.

"Then before you begin your attempt to persuade us to your way of thinking, might I direct your attention to the trio of tables to your left," the eldest Schmicklehook said.
Harry looked at the tables to his left.

Of all the tables in the room, it was by far the most ill-balanced set. Two had the tallest piles in the entire room. The third had a single stack of clipped-together paper, appearing to all the world like the script proposal to a play.

"On the left table is a list of every charity made to end homelessness but had no effect. On the right is the one that succeeded in ending homelessness," Schmicklehook the Middle continued.

Harry bypassed his curiosity about the back stack as he walked to the right table that held the single document.

"Really!? What's in there?" Harry asked as he picked up the file.

"Oh! It's blank," said the second youngest Schmicklehook, "we just put it there so that people would know there are, in fact, three classifications."

He said this all without a hint of humor, so Harry was unsurprised when he flipped through it like an animation book to discover a sea of splendid white.

Message received.

"And I suppose the back stack lists those that made homelessness worse?" Harry concluded.

"Indeed," said the second eldest Schmicklehook, "so you understand our hesitation to invest in yet another homeless shelter. After the trillions upon trillions wasted in everything from good-Samaritan-funded soup kitchens to the Great Society programs that failed so terribly that they increased poverty exponentially."

"We cannot fit the number of attempts at tackling poverty, in all of its forms, that not only failed but also worsened it, into this room," said the eldest.

"So, we ask you again," asked another member of the board, "why should we invest in your shelter, when all others have failed?"

Harry considered the five goblins.

"For one, it is not a homeless shelter," he started, "but before I begin my tale of woes, may I browse through some of the stacks? I want to check a few things."

They all nodded or made some "be-my-guest" gesture.

"Feeding the needy?" Harry asked.

He was directed to a trio of tables right next to the one on sheltering the homeless.
He did a sermo revalio—the word search spell—for "Al-Capone'' on the stack of successful ones and found what he was looking for when a document lit up like a Christmas tree. It was a document detailing the gangster's soup kitchen which fed thousands a day during the height of the great depression. It was marked as unaffiliated with the bank.

Then he simply dug into the pile. Food drives, military aid, and volunteer shippers during natural disasters and times of strife made up the majority of the pile's building blocks, all of which, save for military aid, received funding from Gringotts due to internal requests from other goblins to do so, usually through Muggle intermediaries. There was also an absurd amount of approved aid to Gurdwara's serving langar to the needy. Godly work, those Sikhs did.

Then he found what he was looking for. A non-profit request from a private wizard to set up pre-emptive food banks on every continent. Fresh food, not canned, and kept for months or even years under preservation charms to be distributed when the next hurricane or earthquake left people bereft of a home or even a city to live in. Harry recognized the wizard's name, as he was the foremost producer of magically enhanced refrigerators; Gerald Fortescue.

This cinched it for Harry.

These five goblins, this family sitting before him were not greedy. They weren't self-interested, and they most certainly weren't cruel in their habit of denying funding. They were disillusioned.

And yet in this one stack was all the evidence in the world needed to dissuade the most pessimistic scrooge of his hesitance to believe in the efficacy of charities. Everyone from murderers to saints had given time, sweat, and money to feed those in need whether funded by Al-Capone's blood money, the taxpayer coffer, the church's plate or rich socialites. There was just so much love in the world, more than even Dumbledore might be willing to admit.

Whenever a truly devastating hurricane hits a Muggle city and lives are at stake, wizards, witches, goblins, house elves, mermaids, and even centaurs dropped what they were doing and ran to provide aid. From the shadows, of course. And while this aid was often confused as divine intervention from unseen angels by the Muggles who received it, Harry always saw in it a miracle of another kind.

He had personally seen unreformed pureblood supremacists, namely Goyle and Zabini, dig a Muggle child out of a sinking wreckage in the aftermath of the autumn 2000 floods.
"We're better than them Potter," Zabini had said when Harry confronted him about the perceived change in character, "and part of being better is to rescue them from death by water, as opposed to slaughter them in death by fire as they regularly do to one-another."

Pureblood supremacy could be a strange and confusing ideology to understand sometimes. Most of the time, really.

But what he knew now was that he had the advantage here.

These five men wanted to help him. Wanted to help the world. They had enough love and goodwill towards their fellow man to spare. Why else would they be put in charge of the English branch of Gringottes' charity fund? They were just hesitant and, rightly, concerned about giving that money away to the undeserving.

He wasn't just here to prove to them that his proposal would work but to prove he wasn't a monster. Not a crook intent on lining his own pockets, or the pockets of his cronies, with the funds from the goblin's investment. Not some creep planning to traffic the vulnerable werewolves to perverts the world around or use the shelter as a brothel of sorts for those same perverts. These are the kinds of things many charities or foundations were a fronts for, and it was made all the more disgusting as they were usually funded by well-meaning suckers who thought their money was going to a good cause.

On a similar note, he was there to prove he wasn't an airhead idealist who wanted to save the world but has no understanding of the problems he saw. Those ones tended to do even worse damage on a macro level than the thieves and sex traffickers.

These men wanted to help end hunger, homelessness, and the abuse of vulnerable groups like werewolves. Maybe even more than for the righteousness of it, but so they can put their name on it and say "We didt hat! That was the Schmicklehook family's doing!" For what greater achievements and ambitions are there?

Most importantly he had to prove to them that his plan would work. The many people who come to Gringotts with plans to help the world but would only make them worse. This family famously turned away a man who wanted to create a paper recycling plant. When the goblins not-so-politely informed him that recycling paper was absolutely terrible for the environment and booted out.

That man returned a month later with a business proposal to create a paper mill and tree farm and got approved. That he did his research and learned that paper companies plant more trees than they cut down, turning deserts into forests, and that recycling paper polluted rivers and airs with toxic and smelly chemicals, deeply impressed them. The more obvious realization that normal paper was readily biodegradable while recycled paper was not, might have helped him too.

He just had to apply that kind of thinking to how he worded his proposal.

Harry had to prove he meant it. He had to prove he understood the problem. He had to prove that it would actually help the werewolves and he had to prove it was sustainable under its own might. This was going to be a piece of cake, minus the sugar. Sweet-sounding platitudes would get him nowhere fast.

---

Two hours later saw Harry hovering against the outside wall of the Shrieking Shack. He held and brush in his hand and a paint bucket levitating beside him as he gave the old building a lovely coating of baby blue.

Or at least, he was trying to paint it. But the woman sharing his broom with him and planting increasingly sloppy kisses onto his cheek was more than a little distracting.

"Gross! What are you trying to do to me?!" He managed to say with as much anger as would pass through his giggling.

"You said sloppy!" Bellatrix replied tersely, "and I need to practice my grandma kisses anyways."

Grandma kisses?

"You have children?!" Harry said in surprise, "and they're having children!?"

Bellatrix scoffed at that.

"Hardly! No, I have a niece and a nephew. The former is a bombshell in a workplace full of hot bachelors. The latter is the prettiest of pretty boys to ever pretty boy. It will be a miracle if he doesn't make me into a great aunt before graduating from Hogwarts." She explained.

Yeah…don't hold your breath on that one, Bella. Draco was too smart to knock some girl up and had confided in him once that he never planned to have any children of his own. Which was something Harry couldn't comprehend.

It was after they visited Sue for her bridal shower that Draco learned it was common for Japanese businessmen to adopt young men who they saw as potential apprentices as their own sons. Adult adoptions to carry on the family name. And for some reason, Draco thought that was a brilliant idea.

"Give me ten young men with the hunger to create, industrialize and innovate and I'll create the billionaires of tomorrow!" Draco had once said after having too much to drink. "They will be my sons, ones worthy to rebuild the Malfoy name from the gutter it sits in."​

But Nymphadora? Bellatrix might be onto something there. Harry might have to poke his nose around the Lupin and Tonks households to see if he could make that magic happen.

"But that would make you a great aunt. Not a grandmother." He said.

"If my sister is a grandmother then being a great-aunt is practically the same thing." She said back as she planted a sucking kiss on his ear.

He'd have to be more careful about the terms and conditions of future bets. Winning might be worse than losing.

When she eventually calmed down in her kissing attack, she quietly watched Harry paint with the fist-sized brush.

"Why don't you animate several brushes to do it for you?" She asked.

Because I'm pants at animation charms and grew up accustomed to manual labor.
"Catharsis and to burn off energy mostly," he said his half-truth, "I call it active meditation. Clearing your mind by doing menial tasks."

She considered this idea.

"Like with occlumency?" she asked.

"Nope. Opposite actually," he said, and left off the explanation until she glowered at him. He elaborated, "Okay! Have you ever been in the company of a man while he stares off into space and you got the overwhelming desire, as a woman, to break him from that peace?"

Bellatrix laughed at his phrasing.

"Once or twice," she admitted.

"And what was the usual answer?" He asked.

"Nuffing," she said in a mocking impression of a man, or at least a very full one.
"Well, would you believe me if I said they were telling the truth?" he asked, "They really were thinking about nothing, but thinking about it very hard."

"Huh!?" Was all she could say as she looked at him as if he were a madman.
"Okay! Imagine if instead of clearing your mind by emptying it and being calm, you instead cleared it by…not feeling the need to think. By being at peace while your body works automatically."

If Ron couldn't get Hermione to understand this topic, and the importance of leaving men alone when they're in this state, he doubted he would get it across to Bellatrix. Amazing things happened when men were left in that state for long enough. Epiphanies, sparks of genius like invented laser disks, or impromptu naps.

"Is it like the resolute silence that goes through your mind when you're caught unexpectedly in a fight, or warzone," she asked suddenly.

"Yes! A little bit," he confessed but backtracked, "although now that I think about it, they're very different feelings of inner peace."

As soon as he finished saying it, he regretted the words. Now she knew he had seen real battles before, not just dueling. If he had been less concerned with getting his point across, he would have spotted the real intention behind that question a mile away.
She didn't show any signs of being pleased with her victory but appeared for all the world to see as if she were deep in thought.

"Do you have a second brush?" she finally asked.

And so, they spent the remainder of the afternoon painting the outside of the house by hand. Sure, they could have used bigger brushes or rollers. But that would mean less time sitting on a broom together, with her head on his shoulder, as they both making the monotonous movements to put paint on the wall.

Having this woman around, even if she did put him on edge with her probing questions, was doing so much to keep him grounded in reality. To see somebody so changed by different circumstances and choices, and changed for the better, helped him to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could actually save this world. Only this time, not doing so too late to avert the worst damage and make the wounds of the war and ideological divides insurmountable for eternity.

---

The Order meeting had already begun and yet, for some impossible reason, Romulus Lupin was put on guard duty at the front door instead of sitting in.

This was surely a meeting entirely about "Hadrian Morrigan" and all of the information Dumbledore, Bill, and Kingsley had managed to gather on the interloper. Romulus was of the opinion that he was the most entitled to know these details. For some reason, both dad and James disagreed.

He had spent the better part of twenty minutes grumbling to himself about the injustice of it all when a quiet knock reached the front door. Frowning, he wrenched it open and discovered his being put on guard duty had been a ruse.

"Uncle Peter!" Romulus said as he embraced the man.

"Ohhh! There's my favorite godson!" The rat animagus bellowed as he lifted Romulus in a bear hug.

Romulus took immediate notice of how much thinner his godfather was since he left for his mission, and knew that was never a good sign. The pessimist in him wanted to wager that Secret Agent Wormtail's latest mission had been a failure. But for now, he'd wait to find out.

"Order meeting already underway?" Peter asked.

"Yup. And boy did you miss out on some interesting goings-on!" He told his godfather as he dragged him to the kitchen.

He barely heard his godfather's less reassuring response.

"Oh, I think I've been kept avail of a little too much goings-on." He mumbled.

They entered the kitchen uninvited and the Order, or most of it, gave the usual fanfare when one of their own returned safe and sound after months away. Molly took one look at Peter and frowned, before rushing past him to the kitchen to whip up a massive meal from leftovers. Attagirl Aunt Molly!

As she busied herself, Peter's fellow Marauders welcomed him home with hugs and pats on the back. He even got a few pecks on the cheek from Tonks and the younger Figg.
They found their seats at the table and Mrs. Weasley dumbed a platter of soup, pastries, and fried vegetables in front of the emaciated man. He barely managed to mumble a sincere thanks before digging it.

"Now that everyone is here, and our prank is set off, I call this Order meeting into session," Dumbledore announced, "and while we let Peter settle in from his long trip, I think the first business item of the day is England's mysterious new bachelor."

A series of grumbled agreements echoed around the room and Dumbledore went on.
"Excellent! I held an interview with the young man, but unfortunately, most of it I cannot share," the headmaster went on, "he is a charming and considerate person. Humble, but tries to hide it behind a facade of self-confidence. But it is misplaced as he shows incredible wisdom for his age."

This was all a bit more abstract than what they were all waiting for, of that Romulus was certain.

"Sadness and remorse envelop him wherever he goes but he has such a great sense of humor to overcome it that I am confident in his inner strength," Dumbledore must have noticed the bored expressions on all of their faces because he cut to the chase, "he is also a true seer and casts wandless magic with the ease of a tree swaying with the wind."

The room erupted with debate—and a few I-told-you-so's from Arianna Figg—at Dumbledore's pronouncement. They bombarded him with questions: How can you tell he was a true seer? Was it truly wandless magic and not a trick? All the while Romulus's godfather ate his meal slowly as he listened in visible confusion.

"He is a true seer, and he saw something that only I and one other person on this planet should know," Dumbledore explained. "That would have been enough for me to know he is the "real deal", as they say, but he made a second prediction that I'm still coming to grips with myself. I wish I could share what he saw but it is vital to the war effort that no more people gain this knowledge. It's quite possibly the one piece of knowledge that could win or lose this war, so long as it remains secret."

Alastor Moody spotted a problem with that.

"If it's so important then is it really safe to allow this unknown element to walk around with it in his head?" The retired Auror asked.

Romulus had been thinking the same thing.

"I had a similar concern. In fact, were I as cutthroat as I was during my days fighting Grindelwald during world war two, I would have slain him on the spot," he confessed.
The sobering and frightening revelation the kindly old man just shared with them nailed home exactly how serious this situation was. Well, now Romulus just HAD To know!
"Any information on the young man's past?" Filius squeaked.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I was too preoccupied trying to learn the extent of his abilities, and was focused on interviewing him for the position as well," Dumbledore sighed, "and besides, any personal history he might have told me if I pried would likely be a lie or lacking in all details. He is secretive, of that, you can be sure. I just hope I made the right choice in trusting him to keep the secret he shared with me."

The room went quiet, before all at once, turning towards Bill Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I found Jack with a side of shit," Bill said simply.

"Me too, except Jack left town," added Kingsley.

And like that, they were back to square one with this guy. A ghost who just appeared to the world at large from thin air and began making waves. Romulus had no idea how James and Remus were keeping straight faces because he was finding it impossible.
"How do we even know if he's on our side?" Asked Tonks.

"He isn't," said Severus ominously and with complete confidence in the statement.
Romulus had to roll his eyes at the dour pronouncement before leaning back in his chair and folding his arm.

"Are you saying you have information that he may already have… loyalties?" Sirius asked.

"He is not one of the Dark Lord's either," Severus elaborated, "think about it. Think about this man's actions since surfacing, and who he has chosen to associate with. His first point of reference in the wizarding world was to become a helper to Garrick Ollivander, a man who has repeatedly thumbed every attempt to restrict him in who he can and cannot sell his services to and should either the Dark Lord or Dumbledore ever walk into his shop with a broken wand he would replace it for either of them."

Bill took over.

"And then think of who he chooses as his romantic interest." Sirius dded.

Tonks perked up.

"I think I see where you're going here," she concluded.

"Bellatrix Black," said James, "a woman who managed to keep her sisters together even as they drift towards opposite ends of the conflict. A woman who remains a loving aunt to both Nym and young Draco."

Sirius growled, and it came out a little too dog-like.

"Right. A bastion of family integrity and neutrality that one," he said.

"Sirius," Remus said in a warning tone.

The Black heir backed down but seemed to barely hold his tongue.

"I agree with Severus' analysis," Dumbledore concluded, "he has surrounded himself with people that, in one way or another, are neutral or ambivalent to the war. We are either witnessing the work of a peace-maker intent on healing the schism in our society or…a new player intent on rivaling or replacing Voldemort and myself."

That quieted the room.

A third faction in the war? Well, fourth counting the ministry, and honestly, who did? But still, another faction?

Why would he collect those of the wizarding world either neutral or antagonistic to both sides of the war under one banner? Was it his intention to fight against both or let them duke it out and conquer the victor?

It was something Romulus couldn't imagine doing. It made him wonder. Was Dumbledore leading them astray, intentionally or otherwise? Were their tactics for this war going to cause devastation instead of victory? These were questions he never pondered before and was uncomfortable now that "Hadrian" was forcing him, through his actions, to do so.

"Which do you think he is?" McGonagall broke the silence.

"It might be my intrepid optimism, but I think it's the former," he said, "or at least, he seems to want to be the peacemaker between the two sides. He says, and I believe him, that he does what he does because he believes fate is pushing him towards a certain path. I just worry he doesn't realize how dangerous and difficult that path is."

"Needless to say I will not be trying to recruit him into the Order," Dumbledore concluded, "but he is a godsend in terms of a teacher. I just got a letter from the Board of Governors confirming his appointment and will send the good news to him promptly."

Damnit! That means Romulus wouldn't be able to track him down and interrogate him once the school year started. Yet another boring year of homeschooling with Uncle James and Aunt Lily until she too returned to Hogwarts. Joy.

"I have many questions," Peter broke his silence now that his meal was finished, "but the information gleaned from my spying might be more important, and I'm sure my godson will fill me in later."

He wiped his mouth with a conjured napkin and gave his reports.

"The vampire tribes, all 12, are on the cusp of joining Voldemort," he ripped the bandaid off all at once. "What few distrust him are becoming less and less inclined to get their food through legal, non-fatal means. Stirrings of dissatisfaction echo through the underlings and the leaders can't snuff it out. Attacks on Muggles have already begun to increase."

"And I have on good authority that two leaders already swore to Him. I'll give you three guesses which two, and the first guess doesn't count," he finished.

He had spent half a year of shuffling across Eurasia and Africa, sneaking past customs and borders and listening in on known vampires in his rat form. It had clearly taken a toll. That wasn't even getting into the illnesses he must have caught along the way, from coming into contact with other rats and fleas the world over or the omnipresent danger of getting caught.

Romulus really admired the man.

"I'm afraid things are similarly bad with my werewolf contacts," Remus added, "more and more are going feral, living short and brutal lives in lost forests across Europe. Those that are still taking part in society are either too financially desperate to make waves, or leaning towards joining Voldemort."

More grumblings.

"But what werewolf in their right mind would join a regime with open animus towards them?" asked Peter.

"I think it's more a matter of 'the ministry is our biggest threat, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is the second, and the resistances are either feckless or worse than Voldemort in their tactics," Arthur Weasley hypothesized, "so from their perspective they may be considering You-Know-Who just for the pleasure of fighting for him and getting a bit of revenge against society."

"Right in one," confirmed Remus.

The bad news just kept coming. And yet Dumbledore looked oddly amused.

"In Greater Britain, at least, I foresee the werewolf issue becoming much less of an issue fairly soon," Dumbledore announced, "as is our current funding problem, for the foreseeable future."

He then dropped a sealed contract of some kind—a title or deed maybe?—and a fat coin purse of galleons onto the table.

"Mister Morrigan purchased the Shrieking Shack from me and the transaction was approved," he announced.

The predicted response from everybody in the room, save for the Marauders themselves, was wondering aloud what that had to do with anything.

"And why would he purchase that?" Asked Tonks. "Wait, you're the owner of it?!"
Dumbledore chuckled.

"When I asked him he said, and I quote, I just got the feeling that it would make a great place to shelter disenfranchised werewolves during the full moon," Dumbledore explained, throwing his hands up as if giving up on explaining.

Remus, Peter, James, and Sirius chuckled together at that one.

"The Shrieking Shack used to be my prison during the full moons while I attended Hogwarts," Remus explained, "which this stranger couldn't possibly have known.
Well, it was a well-kept secret. Was.

"And he intends to refurbish it, and turn it into a nonprofit shelter during the few days around the full moon for werewolves to stay," Dumbledore explained, "he intends to provide as much wolfsbane as he can for those who can take it, and other aids for those who cannot."

It was then that a familiar white owl flew in through the window. They really should stop invoking his name like this. Surely this man couldn't have a taboo on his own name, could he?

Dumbledore retrieved the letter Hedwig was carrying and read it. His smile got even brighter as he read it and the document to come with it.

"And I have even more excellent news." He announced as he turned the document around showing a bright red 'approved' stamp on it. "The Gringotts fund for Charitable Acts just approved additional funding for his shelter program."

"What does the letter say?" asked James.

"Well, you might be interested to learn that he is asking me if I can recommend five people interested in being trustees to help get his program approved. And maybe volunteer on or near the full moon."

James, Sirius, Remus, Peter, and Romulus all stood up in perfect synchronicity.

"I figured as much," Dumbledore hummed as he sent Hedwig off with Morrigan's confirmation as the new Divination professorship.

​

---

​

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[Lucho9]

"Well, you might be interested to learn that he is asking me if I can recommend five people interested in being trustees to help get his program approved. And maybe volunteer on or near the full moon."

James, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Romulus all stood up in perfect synchronicity.

"I figured as much." Dumbledore hummed

Click to shrink...

Dumbledore after seeing more "coincidences" for his new professor in Divination.

 

[AmericanNumbers]

This fic is a joy.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

This fic is a joy.

Click to shrink...

I'm elated that you're enjoying it.

 

[Bagrat]

Holy shit, I need to check this side of QQ more often. This is solid gold!

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Holy shit, I need to check this side of QQ more often. This is solid gold!

Click to shrink...

What do you like most about it?

 

[Bagrat]

What do you like most about it?

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I am in mobile because of the holiday travels, otherwise I wouldnwrite an essay! Are you wondering abou something specific?

 

[NonsensicalRants]

I am in mobile because of the holiday travels, otherwise I wouldnwrite an essay! Are you wondering abou something specific?

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Nope. Just wanting some positive advice on what you want more of. I can wait for your essay friend.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 14:

Meeting the Faculty
​

---

Sunday morning, August 31st, 1996
​

Harry finished his last week of unemployment by having breakfast with the Marchbanks. Alastor had been released from Saint Mungo's the night before and his wife, Laura, was taking good care of the bandaged man.

"The good doctor recommended light breakfasts," Alastor told him, "namely, berries and hot cereals."

Just then, Mrs. Marchbanks dropped three plates loaded with eggs, Polish sausages, and sauerkraut onto the table.

"But my wife loves me enough to shorten my lifespan against the doctor's best wishes., Alastor finished as Laura kissed him on his brow.

They sat down and dug in while watching Crookshanks' continued attempts to instigate Teddy, the Marchbanks' ancient basset hound. The fat, lazy dog couldn't be coaxed into lifting its saggy head no matter how much the cat of indeterminate age swatted playfully at his snout.

"Thanks again for agreeing to catsit Crookshanks for me," he said between bites, "I wanted him to be close to Hogwarts, so I can deliver him to his new owner."

"And when did you say you would be able to do that?" asked Laura.

"Monday at the earliest," he said, "I need to time it just right."

"Just right?" asked Alastor.

Harry smiled.

"Are you familiar with the concept of a broken fate?" Harry asked rhetorically, seeing as it was something he made up. "It is when something is fated to happen but through some astronomical statistical aberration, didn't. As if the Fate's made an accounting error and it needs to be corrected. Kind of like a time anomaly. Well, this cat was fated to be joined with a young lady three whole years ago, but somehow wasn't."

Alastor and his wife listened intently at his explanation.

"What is so terrible about fates being broken? Surely many fates are terrible and some people should want to break them." Mrs Marchbanks asked.

"For the same long and complicated reasons that time travel is terrible." harry said with a shrug. "When the threads of fate are severed it can unravel the world, for every future fate is predicated on the previous fates coming true. As you two were fated to be married, every future event that only became possible with your union, like the birth of your children and their future actions and children, fall down like Jenga pieces. So on, and so forth. So, when a broken fate is found, it should be remedied as much as possible. I will be doing that this week."

"And something as simple as a person having the correct pet can have those kinds of butterfly effects?" Alastor asked.

"Of course." Harry said. "Just as the smallest change to the timeline through chronomancy can."

Alastor glared at him suspiciously and answered Harry's bait only by chewing more slowly.

"Sometimes really important work is deceptively easy. Unfortunately the other work I have planned is not so." Harry changed the subject.

'Teaching can be a tough job. Especially at Hogwarts." Alastor conceded.

"I was more referring to tracking down an affordable plot to grow wolvesbane ingredients and the shelter for werewolves I'm building." Harry said. "I spent the last few days buying furnishings for the place and it was long, boring work. Don't suppose you can help me with either tasks?"

Alastor motioned with his hands to indicate his broken and healing body. Even going so far as to lift the bandages over one-half of his face to show the burns beneath.

"Oh nooooo!" Harry mocked in his best Mr. Bill impression, "I'm just a frail old man, I couldn't possibly survive trekking around the isles. Says the man who fended off Lord Voldemort with nothing but a FLAMING SWORD OF GOD!"

Alastor didn't take that praise laying down.

"Well, when you say it like that it sounds very impressive, but it's much less so when you consider he and his goons were unarmed. Not a wand between them," he said, "sign of good faith negotiation."

Harry considered him with visible confusion.

"Then how'd he cast a killing curse for you to block with a sword in the first place?" Harry asked.

"He cast it wandlessly," Alastor answered.

That was a concerning claim. Were it anybody except Voldemort Harry would have said it was impossible, but even still the claim strained credulity. Harry was certainly capable of casting the Killing Curse, but casting it or any of the Unforgiveables wandlessly was far beyond his ability. The only exception to S-class spells he could sling around without a wand was the Patronus, and that was only because Harry had such an outstanding affinity for that spell in particular.

Maybe if Voldemort had a similar affinity for the killing curse? That was a frightening possibility, but a possible one. Plausible, even.

"And where did the burns and wounds come from?" Harry asked, "did he manage to summon Fiendfyre wandlessly as well?"

"No, the sword's magic turned on me when it exploded. Got a face and chest full of stone and copper shrapnel," Alastor explained, "the sword didn't appreciate being used as a weapon, strangely enough."

That warranted further investigation. That artifact really ought to be in the Department of Mysteries so the Unspeakables could try and decipher the inner workings of its magic.
"I insist you work with him, dear," Mrs. Marchbanks insisted.

"Why should I go?" Mr. Marchbanks insisted in return, "when he has a hot duelist girlfriend who'd do much better in my place?"

"Well, she barely has enough time as it is to even date me. What, with all of her dueling practices, competitions, and social events. So, joining me for weekend trips across the country is out of the question, as is caring for werewolves for a few days per month." Harry explained, "That and, not to downplay her abilities, but she never fought off the most powerful dark lord in history with a FLAMING SWORD OF GOD!"

Teddy must have gotten worried from all of the yelling because he was at the table now with his head on Harry's lap. He whimpered just like Fang too. Harry patted the frightful thing in order to console him.

Harry gave up on trying to convince the older man and decided to leave it to Laura to nag him into it over the next few weeks. For now, he settled for finishing the excellent breakfast, apparating to the Shrieking Shack and walking to the first home he ever knew. It was time to return to Hogwarts.

---

The moment Harry stepped past the boundary separating the courtyard and the entrance hall he stretched his magical senses as wide as they would go. The castle welcomed him, as it welcomed all who came here, with an embrace of ancient dust and promises of adventure. It almost fooled Harry into thinking it recognized him, but more likely it recognized his nature and merely approved of him.

He was home.

"Professor Morrigan, I presume," Minerva's thick accent greeted from behind him.
"Ah!" Harry yelled in feigned fright. "Oh, it's just Minnie. Sorry, something about your stern voice made me think I was about to get a paddling."

She made what may have been the most severe expression he'd ever seen on her face in his own universe. Either this Minerva was much more stressed out, or he hit a home run with that joke and she was trying to hide it. He was leaning towards the former.

"The rest of the faculty is meeting in the staff break room, and we are all eager to meet you," she said simply before walking away.

Definitely the former, then.

Assuming she wanted him to follow her, Harry went in the completely opposite direction. Working from memory alone he descended into the dungeons and took a secret passage that opened up into a slide. Riding it deeper into the dungeons he exited near the Slytherin dormitories. What most students didn't know, but probably suspected, is that there was a passage near every common room which lead directly to the private quarters of their head of house. Each of these passages was only accessible to said faculty member and the headmaster.

Unless one spoke parseltongue, in which case hissing a quick "open" to the passage near the Slytherin common room and the exit near the corresponding faculty bedroom. Another feature common to all faculty members was that each of their private quarters was situated right next to another secret passage leading to the headmaster's tower. Each was only accessible to said faculty member but, again, Salazar put parseltongue loopholes into all of the passages he himself crafted.

And so, Harry hissed another 'open' at the wall adjacent to the private quarters of...somebody who wasn't Snape, based on the smell of flowery perfume, and climbed a spiral stone staircase until he exited the portrait of Salazar Slytherin into the hallway leading to Dumbledore's office. Turning away from the office he walked to the door he knew led to the staff meeting room.

"I was under the impression Minerva was to escort you here," Filius greeted the moment Harry opened the door.

Harry blinked as he examined the room. He recognized a few old faces, but just as many he'd never seen before. Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and Severus Snape were all a given, as was the rough and tumble Elvira, but aside from those the only familiar faces were Hagrid and Professor Sinistra. Oh, and for some reason, Remus was here too. That left three strangers and three empty seats, ignoring Minerva and Albus' absences.
"She sort of just wandered off and left me to my own devices. Must have had more important business to attend to," Harry lied with a shrug.

The more gullible staff members shared concerned looks.

"Anyways, it's nice to meet you all. Don't everybody introduce yourselves at once," Harry went on.

After a short round of indulgent chuckles, they began with the introductions and Harry made his way around the table, shaking each hand he was offered. Which, seeing as those present was polite and professional even at the worst of times, was everyone.
"Professor Flitwick, charms," Filius introduced himself.

"Rebecca Pomfrey, school nurse," Pomfrey introduced herself.

Harry examined the stern woman and wondered what relation she had to the Poppy Pomfrey he knew and adored. Regardless, she had big shoes to fill, but they were shoes that definitely needed filling. He hoped the thirty-something-year-old was up to filling the seventy-something-year-old's position.

"Aurora Sinistra, astronomy," the beautiful dark-skinned woman greeted.

"Elvira De Santigo, survival skills instructor," The duelist introduced herself.

"I know, I saw your duel with Madame Bones. Great stuff." Harry said.

Harry had neither heard of her nor her class before. The long years of war must have made the necessity of branching out from the traditional class structure clear to even the Board of Governors if they deemed it necessary to deviate from the millennia-old curriculum. That or the population of this magical Britain was much greater than his and so Hogwarts was better able to provide additional electives.

All in all? If he wasn't already involved, he would have chased her like many of her teenaged students likely did. He had a thing for gals who could kick his ass.

"Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper," greeted the friendly giant as he nearly crushed Harry's arm with a handshake.

Now that he was up close Harry could see how badly scarred his first friend was. He held his arm in a sling and had two black eyes and a nasty cut above his nose. Still, the gentle soul peered through those beetle eyes just like Harry remembered from before.
"Severus Snape, substitute potions teacher," greeted Snape curtly with a short handshake.

Harry blinked at the man.

"Substitute?" Harry couldn't stop himself from saying, "you give off the air of a man capable of much more in potions than your job title would entail."

Severus' look was a combination of disdain and dissatisfaction at being reminded of his station, but Harry could feel the intention behind it through his magical senses. He was hiding his pride at his own abilities from Harry's disguised compliment behind that sneer in place of abashed humbleness. Why were Slytherins so weird?

The man beside Severus cleared his throat, breaking the two out of the odd social interaction.

"Remus Lupin, defense against the dark arts," Remus greeted.

Harry gave Remus his most genuine smile, so glad was he to see the man in better health and nicer clothes than he'd ever seen the Remus from his own world. Also alive. Very good improvement there.

"Professor Maven is currently at Saint Mungo's from a Death Eater attack, and also missing are our Muggle studies professor, Andrew Hannigan, and our healing arts mistress, Emma Grey. You'll meet them this evening when they arrive," Filius finished, "oh, and Professor Binns, our history of magic teacher, is never seen outside of his classroom. You can go meet him whenever you feel like it."

Professor Binns was rather forgettable, yes.

"Right, and Professor Maven teaches Arithmancy and Runes then?" Harry asked.
"Right in one," Sinistra nodded.

That sounded taxing, teaching two whole subjects. But they did seem like the most likely to be merged into a single course. Honestly, if the Board of Governors wanted to, they could do the same with Divination and Astronomy. Or History and Muggle Studies. He'd have to put that on the agenda for when he got a surrogate to sit on the board.

"That just leaves..." Harry thought to himself, "Do you not teach care of magical creatures?"

"We have split up the duties related to magical creatures between defense against the dark arts and survival class." Said Elvira.

Efficiency is the word of the day, it would seem.

"So. Tell us all about your trip up to Hogwarts!" Pomona egged the conversation on as soon as Harry found his seat beside Sinistra.

"Oh, it was lovely," Harry said honestly, "an early morning trek from my new property in Hogsmeade through the woods was a fine start to the day. The pre-dawn mist and singing of wildlife would be a boost to anybody's mood."

The other professors shared confused looks, as something about his statement must not have added up to them.

"Morning walk...in the woods?" Severus clarified.

"Yup," said Harry, " You know, the big plot of trees between Hogsmeade and here?"
The meaning of his words must have finally registered because almost everyone's expression changed from confused to concerned.

"You don't mean to tell me you walked through the Forbidden Forest on your way here, do you?" Elvira practically seethed.

"Yeah. Why? Am I not allowed to do that?" Harry asked in genuine confusion before he remembered that this version of the Hogwarts staff wasn't familiar with his many adventures in and familiarity with said forest.

"That is highly dangerous!" Little Pomfrey—which is the nickname he will henceforth be thinking of her as—reprimanded as she pulled her wand out and approached him to cast diagnostic charms.

"Really? I thought it was a lovely walk. The thestrals were polite, if a little over-curious and the other denizens kept a safe distance, but weren't as good at hiding as they thought," Harry said as he allowed the young woman to check him over.

That answer earned him a nod of approval and a gracious smile from Hagrid, who had just now finished making him a cup of tea.

"How did the Aurors stationed on the perimeter not spot you?" Elvira pressed on as Hagrid placed a hot mug in front of Harry.

"Oh, they did. Tried to arrest me too. For some reason they found a stranger coming out of the forest in the early dawn suspicious. I ignored them and entered the school," Harry told them, "A young Miss Tonks there helpfully waylaid the ones trying to arrest me: had to explain to her co-workers that I was expected."

"They can be tedious, yes," Sinistra hummed in agreement while trying to hide a smile behind her mug of tea as she took a sip.

Harry got the feeling that half of his new peers thought he was insane, and the other half thought him lying for the sake of humor. And the half questioning his sanity probably didn't believe him either. They would learn soon that every word of it was true.

"Do you have any experience teaching?" asked Lupin when the chuckles and weary looks abated, "I am starting this semester too, and admit I'm rather nervous."

Well yeah, you should be. It's the jinxed job position after all. But it won't be for much longer. But how to answer? Half-truths? Half-truths.

"I used to lead a study group for defense against the dark arts for an entire year when we didn't have a competent teacher. My fellow homeschooled kids picked me because of my...rough experiences. And because I was able to cast a corporeal patronus by the age of thirteen and they found that very impressive," Harry explained.

Harry almost missed Flitwick's jaw hit the floor.

"I find that very impressive myself," the charms master stuttered.

"Everybody has that one spell that just comes to them naturally. For me, it was the Patronus. Or, well, it didn't come easy. But when it did come to me, I was very good at it. Same for the summoning charm. Both hard won but doubly rewarding," Harry explained "Once I finished with my homeschooling and took my NEWTS for the first time, the town decided to hire me as Defense teacher for all of the students."

"At such a young age?" Professor Sprout questioned, "And how did that go?"

"It was a disaster," Harry answered honestly, "I was completely overwhelmed, not by the workload mind you, but from the multiple panic attacks I suffered from trying to herd children and teenagers into a class where they learned to cast curses at each other as well as the methods for defending against or countering them."

Flitwick, Pamona, and, oddly, Snape all permitted him sympathetic nods at that confession.

"And what makes you think you'd be better able to handle the work now?" Remus asked.
"You mean aside from my being nine years wiser?" Harry asked, "The fact that I'll be teaching a subject that doesn't have children waving wands around and casting offensive spells at one another. No panic attacks for me this year. No sir!"

"But there will be quite a bit of hair-pulling, I assure you," Elvira assured him.

Oh boy, was he ever expecting that to be true.

"I actually swore that I'd never take a teaching position again after that. And yet here I am," Harry finished his tale of woes.

"And why are you here: breaking your oath?" Filius asked.

"I felt pushed into taking the position," Harry said honestly, "received several signs that I was supposed to do so."

Several of the faculty either perked up as they reached the subject that fascinated them the most about the enigmatic Hadrian Morrigan or rolled their eyes in anticipation of wobbly divination bullshit. Harry planned to disappoint both teams.

"What kind of signs would that be?" Sinistra asked, her entire attention focused on him.
"Well, let's see," Harry ticked off his points on his fingers, "Between the entirety of Diagon Alley thinking I'm Nostradamus for some reason, me suddenly discovering a hitherto unknown talent for divination while taking the written exam, and seeing an ad in the paper looking for a new Divination professor, I got the hint. And wouldn't you know it, just as I finished reading said classified the owl with my new NEWT results flew in and dropped it right on my face. Whoever claimed the Fates are subtle is a liar."

Based on the nervous laughter at his humorous tale, he could tell they didn't know if he was joking or serious. Frankly, he was a bit of both.

"Is that how the Fates usually talk to you?" Severus said in his most demeaning voice.
Oh, we were going there? He didn't care very much to "defend the honor of his chosen field", but he was always up for a match with Snape. He had over half a decade of repressed aggression towards the man to let out.

"Well no, usually I just know things I shouldn't. I can sense people's nature, or past and future, all things that freak people out if I comment on," Harry said honestly, "Most of the time I have to make a concerted effort not to use these abilities, kind of like how a natural Legilimens, like you, has to consciously suppress the ability in order to respect other people's privacy."

Snape waved off that "reading" with a hand motion and a snort.

"Then make a reading on me, one that isn't common knowledge, unlike my skills with the mental arts" he challenged.

"Did you miss the part where I said it freaks people out?" said Harry, "I'm here to build bridges, not burn them. And sharing private information about somebody in front of his colleagues is a good way to lose friends. Not quite as good as calling your best friend and the only woman you ever loved a mudblood in front of all of your classmates. But a close second."

Before Harry even finished that scathing remark Snape had already stood up from his seat and calmly walked out of the meeting. If Harry were to extend his senses now, he would surely feel the rage wafting off the man like fumes from a freshly baked habanero and lemon pie. It tastes a lot better than it sounds. It was one of George's best inventions for pure disgust factor.

Minerva came in exactly as Snape left, and glanced back and forth between the congregation and the man who nearly bodied her in his haste to get out of Harry's presence.

"What was that? And...wait," she started before noticing Harry's presence, "how did you even get here before me? I looked everywhere for you!"

"Oh, you know. Youth. Spryness. Quicker pace of movement from having strong hips and longer legs," Harry said offhandedly, "and Severus needs some time to cool off. He chose to get into a verbal duel with me and it didn't end well for him."

Minerva looked to Filius who was still holding a hand over his mouth to try and hide his shocked expression, then to the confused looks of those present. The only person who Harry knew for a fact knew the meaning behind that statement was Remus, who was staring at Harry with something akin to awe and terror.

"I believe you may have just made a mortal enemy out of one of the most dangerous men in Britain," Remus told him.

Most dangerous men in Britain? If he were to make a pyramid of people it was unwise to get into a fight with, Harry'd put Snape an order of magnitude above Bella, Molly, and Alastor(Moody) and right beside Minerva and Filius, who themselves were an order of magnitude below Voldemort and Dumbledore. If he were honest with himself though, he'd put Severus closest to Albus and Tom out of the three teachers.

With another half-century of life, Snape could come close to rivaling the two, as could Harry, if either were to devote their entire existence to achieving parity with the powerful mages. But that would never happen. Snape was too focused on potions and Harry was too focused on sports and mischief. The kind of mischief that led the people of Cheran, Mexico, to pick up arms and drive out the cartels and corrupt police and politicians. Good times.

"Oh, we aren't enemies," said Harry, "that was just a warning shot. I know that man can be extremely antagonistic if you show him any weakness. I can also tell that he is a truly good man deep—and I do mean deep, deep down—inside. But I don't take kindly to bullies or people who want to test me. If he ignores the warning and tries to escalate, I will too."

He took a sip of his tea as he allowed his coworkers to digest that declaration. He then clarified.

"I'm not interested in starting wars or rivalries. But I'll happily end them."

Sure, he respected Severus and his abilities. But it would be a cold day in hell before he actually liked the guy.

---

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[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 15:

Meeting the Students
​

---

Sunday morning, August 31, 1996​

"Welp!" said Hadrian, "I need to head on up to my quarters and classroom. I have a lot of unpacking, organizing, prepping, and planning to do."

He got up and made to leave.

"Not to mention the paperwork, rules and regulations, and code of conduct you need to finish signing," reminded Minerva.

"Don't forget the health and safety protocols," added Rebecca.

"Albus apologized for not being present: he planned to walk you through it all. I could help in his stead—should you need assistance," Filius offered.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary," Hadrian said before exiting and leaving them all to each others' company.

There was dead silence for a long while as they all absorbed the typhoon in human form they just met. Elvira was the first to break it.

"Ten galleons says he gets lost and doesn't reappear for an entire week!" The survivalist announced.
"I'll take that bet," Remus said. "After all, he got here from the entrance hall just fine by himself."
Minerva glowered at that.

"I turned my back to lead him and must have spent forty whole seconds talking to thin air before I realized he wasn't following me," she said, "how in the world did he get here by himself?"

Remus couldn't help himself.

"Stab in the dark. Maybe he's psychic?" he said cheekily, "could have doused his way here."
Rebecca and Sinistra both took his suggestion in good humor but seemed satisfied to smile and watch the goings-on.

"It's more likely that Peeves decided the only way to surprise us was to be genuinely helpful to somebody," suggested Pomona.

"Now that's a thought," Remus mused aloud. He'd have to track down the old poltergeist and ask, though whether or not the hellion would answer was a shot in the dark.

He turned back to Elvira and said warningly, "don't you go backtracking when he arrives for dinner on time. I have those ten galleons right here and a room full of witnesses".

She winked at him and the bet was on.

---

"Nope," Harry grimaced as he tossed aside yet another piece of junk, "not a diadem."

He threw aside the bust and tore apart the nightstand it stood on. He banished article after article of clothing, rug, curtain, furniture, container, vial, weapon, and more into separate piles but he couldn't find the diadem. He found A diadem with amethysts and cursed with a skin-melting spell, but definitely not a Horcrux. He destroyed it anyways.

"It must not be here," he finally surrendered.

This sucked. This was the only Horcrux he knew how to get to and destroy. Aside from the locket in the cave—a cave Albus never thought to tell him the location of in his world—all the others were unknown. Well, aside from the ring in the Gaunt shack, but Albus already took care of that.

He sighed in defeat and surveyed the room of hidden things and made to leave. He kept his eyes peeled during the hike back through the mountain of junk, but no glint of silver caught his eye. He finally caved stretched his magical senses, bracing himself for the horrific feeling the horcrux would undoubtedly bring when his magic touched it, like wading into melted tire rubber and doused in bile.
The feeling of such terrible dark magic never materialized, and he was forced to conclude the horcrux really wasn't there.

He exited the room of requirement and sighed. He had a familiar urge to peruse the map and while away hours scouring every nook and cranny of the school. He really wished he'd had the thing on him when he awoke in this world, it would be interesting to see if it worked in this universe and what it would show his name as.

"Oh." Harry gasped at the sudden realization.

The map. He had completely forgotten about the map. And if it worked at all like the wards at Gringotts, reading the aura mark of people placed in Hogwarts, then he was one hundred percent certain what it would show his name as.

---

There was a knocking at the door.

"Anybody gonna get that?" Fred hollered from his workbench where he trying to solder a billywig stinger into a whoopie cushion.

"I'll get it!" Lee said.

He saw his discolored triplet put down the measuring cup and flour before running ti the door and wrenching it open. He turned back to his current ill-advised project assuming it was just another customer. They were finally getting busy.

"Hello Mister Jordan. Aren't you going to let your new benefactor in?" A cool but giddy voice greeting Lee from the front door.

"Um... Are you Hadrian Morrigan?" Lee said after a moment.

Everybody in their miniscule apartment dropped everything and stumbled to the front door. George and Angelina charged in from the kitchen, covered in flower and still wearing their aprons and oven-mits. Katie put down the mixing bowl she was currently mixing and the sound of Alicia stumbling out of bedroom and knocking over yet another mountain of boxes they would have to re-orgnaize later.
But they all made it to the door where the swarmed the young professor.

Messy black hair? Check. Green eyes? Check. Air of mischief and Dumbledore-y all-knowingness? Double check. Facial expression crazy enough to make you believe he'd willingly date Bellatrix black? Oh yeah.

"Come in! Come in! Plenty of packages to sit on if you don't mind getting baking ingredients all over your clothes." Fred commanded.

They parted and let the man inside where he found one such pile of boxes waist height to pop a squat.
"It does smell lovely in here. I came here expecting a joke shop being run out of a tiny apartment, and instead find a pastry shop running out of a tiny apartment." He teased.

"Yeah. It's the best we can do even on six part-time incomes. But business is finally picking up." George said. "Did you like the box we sent you?"

"Loved it!" He said. "Was a little disappointed not to receive any canary creams."

Fred and George looked at one another with matching consternation. Psychic show off.

"What are canary creams?" Katie asked.

"A failed experiment from two years back." Fred said. "We couldn't get them to actually turn people into oversized canaries. The beak and eyes weren't right, and they made you grey instead of yellow."
Morrigan hummed.

"I would recommend switching the canary feathers for crane feathers, and for color add extract of golden tentacula. Dilute it as much as humanly possible though." He advised. "But anyhoo. Instead of talking products you will be releasing in the future, let's talk business. I want to invest in your little business endeavor."

It took a lot of self-restraint not to fist pump into the air at his pronouncement, but somehow George managed.

"What did you have in mind, sir." Katie asked.

"Please, please! Let's not get bogged down with the honorifics like sir... call me professor." he said with a grin.

George and Angelina snorted at the joke. But Morrigan stopped smiling at his own humor in favor of frowning at Katie.

"Miss Bell, shouldn't you be attending Hogwarts for your final year?" He asked.

Katie shrugged.

"I bailed. My fiancé already offered me my second choice in dream job, and with the war going on getting NEWTs seems less important than working and building a family." She explained. "Besides, as you showed I can always just take them later and with a few years of self-study I'll probably score higher."

Morrigan nodded at this reasoning.

"So, let's address the elephant in the room far too small for an elephant." Morrigan moved on. "You all need larger facilities to operate out of. This simply will not do."

Ouch. If he was about to propose investing enough to purchase or rent a proper store, then the percentage of dividends he would demand as a result might break the bank. There would be no profitability for the rest of them.

"And as I'm sure Albus told you in the last meeting, I recently purchased the Shrieking shack from him. it is yours to operate out of." Morrigan said.

Now that was an unexpected windfall.

"But I thought you were going to run a werefwolf shelter out of it?" George pointed out.

"And I shall. Three days out of the month. The rest of the month will see all of that space going unused. And worse, now that I'm a professor at Hogwarts with my won quarters, it is also going unlived in for the rest of the month as well. This is an enormous security risk, as there are many out there who would wish to do werewolves harm, or else sabotage the project." Morrigan explained. "With you six operating your shop out of there, that would add an additional layer of security and put my mind at ease."

Fred nodded along with his reasoning.

"So, it'll be our store for all of the month except the days of the full moon?" Fred summarized. "Do you also require us to volunteer at the shelter?"

"Only if you want to, but I would prefer you didn't." Morrigan said. "I know you six work twenty-four seven, as most new business owners do. Six people working eight hour shifts in pairs. I suggest instead you take those three days per month off. How many business owners can claim to get monthly vacations? Oh, and you should know the attic is essentially my apartment, and shall now be your apartment. When does your lease here end?"

"It's a month to month. We can technically end it now and move in tomorrow." Angelina said.

"That is excellent. The place does need some work to be a proper store. I have filled nearly every room with military style barracks, but they can easily be enchanted to have a switching transfiguration to swap between being bunk beds and store shelves. And the place does need a woman's touch, in fact it could even require three ladies to complete the task of making it presentable." He explained. "I will pay for any such improvements, in addition to a storage shed to put your products during the full moon."

Wow. This was by far a better deal than they could ever have hoped for. It almost seemed too good.
"And what do you expect in return for this business relationship?" Fred and George said at once.
Morrigan leaned back in though.

"Well, let's see. In exchange for renting out both a living space and workspace, I will already be getting your services as a layer of security and any work you put in to add equity to my property value. That is already almost enough in return. But I would also like to fund your future research and development as needed. In exchange for that I want..." He paused and pretended to count everyone in the room, pointing at them one by one until he landed on himself. "Seven. I want one-seventh of all profit. Not gross! Profit."

That was a steal, although taking into account the other benefits he pointed out that they were providing him it did seem close to fair, if slightly benefitting them. Fred was ready to reach out a hand to shake on the offer when his twin dropped a bucket of cold water on them all.

"Cut the crap." George said angrily. "What is the extra catch you want in return."

Morrigan lost all jovialness and returned George's serious expression.

"There are two." Morrigan admitted.

Here we go.

"In the likely event I die, I want you all to take over the shelter." Morrigan started. "Which is a huge addition to your workload, but I would word the contract that you are left in charge of who to pass it onto. Essentially, I will be making you the executioners of my will."

Oh. Well, that wasn't too bad.

"This of course comes with the added benefit That the Morrigan estate and the value therein will fall equally between the six of you." He explained. "Which I think should make up for the added headache this catch will bring you."

that was a bit much. It explained why he offered such a sweet deal up front.
"And the second catch?" George pressed.

Morrigan sighed. He clearly wasn't looking forward to their reaction to this one.

"There is a piece of parchment in that drawer over there." Morrigan said, pointing to George's workbench. "I want it."

Katie rolled her eyes.

"We all know about the map, professor. You can speak openly." She said.

"Oh, thank god! yeah I need the map." He said, his cheerfulness returning.

"How do you even know about it?" Lee asked.

"I'm about to lie to you. I need you to pretend to accept it." Morrigan said. "I saw it in a vision. That was the lie. Now for a truth, I require it now that I'm at Hogwarts, and you do not now that you're out of it. It is also no secret that Hadrian Morrigan is not my real name, as I only just inherited it. I need my true name to remain a secret or else I cannot succeed in my mission."

Finally! The mystery of this man was at their fingertips. And yet he was asking them up front not to open that pandora's box?

"What is your mission?" Angelina asked.

"The question on everyone's mind lately." Alicia said. "Watch him try to skirt around answering it."
"Voldemort." He said. "I am her to destroy Voldemort and end his war. that is my only purpose. I am even willing to subject myself to an unbreakable vow if that's what it takes to convince you, but my identity must remain a secret, even from you, and the map will be an invaluable tool for me regardless."

Fred whistled at the confession. It made sense, if they so much as peeked at the map during the welcome feast later that evening the cat would be out of the bag. And that he was willing to go to these extremes meant his identity might be significant enough to lose the war if it got out. He seemed Ernest, was a man of good humor, and was trusted or at least liked by far more scrupulous and wise people than them. Hell, Garrick Ollivander as a character reference was close to proof enough that he was on the side of good, wherever that side was. Speaking of Ollivander.

"Meet us at Ollivanders in ten minutes." Fred said. "He will perform the vow, and he can be a legal witness to our verbal contract until we can have the goblins hash out a proper contract."

Morrigan nodded, stood up and left without another word. When the door closed they immediately went into crisis mode.

"I want to trust him! I really do!" George admitted.

"Same. But I also really, really want to solve the mystery of Hadrian Morrigan." Alicia said.

"Professor Hadrian Morrigan." Katie corrected.

"It's a moot point. We will never get an offer that good again in our lives." Lee pointed out. "We have to accept it!"

"That doesn't mean we have to like it." Angelina finally said.

"The unbreakable vow is the only reason we should accept." George said.

"Oh right! Because having our own mansion, dream store and inheriting the power of an ancient and noble house aren't reason enough!" Katie countered.

They all had to concede to that point.

---

Harry entered the divination classroom rubbing the marks on his hand from the unbreakable vow. They would burn for the rest of the day, but at least it wasn't his writing hand. He would need that.
Upon entering, he confirmed what he already suspected.

"Might as well have a big neon sign saying 'Sybill was here'," he muttered to himself.

Thick, raggedy curtains that had seldom been dusted covering the many windows? Check. Tea tables stained and unpolished covering every inch of floor not hidden by ugly hippie-design rugs? Check. The only thing missing was the bat's collection of hideous teacups. Good riddance.

He walked behind the desk where another set of nasty curtains hid his new private quarters and discovered—with no small amount of relief—that it looked unlived in. Trelawney had been sacked and moved out of her own free will not murdered. In the latter case, he'd have had much more disposal work to be getting on with.

Seeing his suitcases were already there, he made his way back to the desk where the paperwork awaited him. He promptly ignored it.

"May I speak to the house-elf present?" he called out to the room while staring squarely at where his extended senses told him one stood hiding.

She popped into existence with an 'eep!' and sputtered out her response.

"How can Tofty be helpings you today, Professor Morrigan sir?" she asked.

Tofty? That sure was one peculiar coincidence. He'd have to mention it to the other Tofty when he finally joined her for weekend tea.

"Hello, Tofty. I will be doing some redecorating today and I was hoping you and a few of your friends could help me." He told her. "I will be removing these curtains, rugs, and likely the furniture. If you and some of the other house elves would transport them to the room of hidden things and bring me suitable replacements you would have my supreme gratitude."

By the time he finished his request, she was vibrating on her toes in excitement. Before he even managed to stand back up from kneeling to talk to the old creature, the curtains and rugs were gone. Just vanished, as if by magic. He had to let his eyes adjust to the sudden flood of sunlight, but when they did, he gasped at what the zealous little house elf had revealed.

The lack of curtains revealed identical pairs of glass doors at different intervals around the tower. Outside each of the doors was identical, circular patios with ornate metal railings and tarpaulin covers. He walked through the nearest set and smiled at the gorgeous view of the Black Lake and Forbidden Forest beyond.

"That woman had her students cooped up in there instead of sitting out here?" He said to himself in bafflement.

He could understand her methods to an extent. A hot, humid room filled with the vapors of many herbs in order to get her students into a drowsy state was certainly a valid way to open the mind. Especially since children were more susceptible to sensing the greater universe. But it was hardly the only way, nor one that would be effective for every student.

"Which curtains would Professor Mordrian like, sirs," Tofty's voice called from behind him.
Mordrian? He liked it!

He turned around to discover she had brought a dozen specimens from the room of hidden junk and splayed them across every available surface. Most were boring shades of brown, black, or white. He was very tempted to use a set of transparent curtains with twinkling star lights embedded into it, but it seemed more suited for a garish ball dress or a nightgown than curtains. He quickly settled on a set of baby blue curtains.

"And I would like them to be pinned to the sides of the glass doors, not covering them, if it's all the same to you." he instructed.

In short order, the patios were all furnished with metal tables and chairs matching those in some of the greenhouses, and all of the furniture inside of the classroom, save for his desk, was gone. Tofty tried to ask him what type of rugs he would like to have installed over the stone flooring, but he simply couldn't decide between all of the awful samples she brought along. And he still wanted to put some kind of paintings around the room.

For now, he opted to put it off for later and settled into his office chair to read through the documents. Oh boy were they extensive.

The first was a simple agreement to obey the law while on Hogwarts grounds. Which seemed a bit superfluous.

What was the punishment for breaking the laws inside the grounds? Same as breaking them outside of the school plus extra fines. It was kinda like traffic laws meant to prevent vehicular death or property destruction. Murder/manslaughter and arson were both already illegal. So why all the traffic stops and fines? Of course, everybody knew the real answer to that leading question.

The next one detailed proper conduct in front of students. It was all simple stuff. Avoiding four-letter words, crass statements, and discussing sex lives or in-depth personal history. Pretty obvious. There was also a dress code that explicitly forbade showing cleavage, legs or backsides for women and abdominals, chest, or codpieces for men. There was also express denial of perfumes and colognes—especially erotic ones and those dosed with magical aphrodisiacs—and of course any kind of violent behavior towards students.

The long list of violent acts ranged from slapping to spitting to pretty much every spell aside from the disarming jinx, shielding charms, and the Glisseo charm. After reading that particular bit of information, he went back and discovered "tripping" students was not mentioned on the list of physically violent acts that were forbidden. Noted.

The document did hold a disclaimer that the contract did not, in any way, restrict his legal rights to defend himself or others against deadly force with an appropriate level of retaliation from anybody. Also noted.

The dress codes and some speech codes carried with them a punishment of termination on grounds of sexual harassment, which Harry thought was a bit extreme until he thought about the way many women dressed in Muggle jobs he had worked and imagined how quickly the men in those places would have been fired if they were dressed half as provocatively... Yup, having your tits half hanging out and a skirt short enough to straight up your birth canal in a work or school environment is most definitely sexual harassment. Of course, in the Muggle world that could easily be solved by having a dress code that amounted to "Everybody must wear a suit and tie! No exceptions!" which was the dress code that the male half of the population was usually subjected to anyways.

If he ever got a job in a Muggle place again he'd have to try out wearing cod pieces and other sexually provocative clothes. It would make for easy suing on discrimination grounds if he was fired for it while his female coworkers got a free pass on their unacceptable manner of dress.

After signing that first document with the provided blood quill, it vanished to who-knows-where and he moved on to the next document.

Mediation between faculty members was also pretty simple. Keep disagreements private. Let no students see or hear about any such conflicts and if it cannot be dealt with privately, a third-party mediator—see, Albus bloody Dumbledore—will mediate it for you.

Signed and vanished.

The document detailing the proper methods for removing house points or assigning detentions and acceptable reasons to do so was rather revealing. Particularly the part detailing that all such detentions had to be observed by a third party. Usually in the form of a watchful ghost, portrait or house-elf so as to ensure that nothing untoward happens between students and faculty in private...and to ensure there were extra witnesses incapable of lying to the Headmaster in the event a student claimed something had.

Signed and vanished.

Then came the privileges of the position. It was the shortest document yet, and it detailed his right to move freely into, out of, and around the Hogwarts grounds anywhere except the private quarters of faculty and students except to guarantee said student's safety. Only heads of houses usually had any cause to enter students private quarters anyways so he didn't have to worry about that. It also specified that he had free reign over the restricted section of the library—so long as he followed the library rules—and that he had the right to know all current passwords for any and all passages such as common rooms and the headmaster's office.

Signed and vanished. He would need to ask Albus about getting copies of the documents for intermittent perusal and refreshers.

The final one, which probably should have been the first one, was an oath of secrecy. One which would magically bind him into keeping his silence on every internal practice of Hogwarts and her security measures, such as passwords, Auror, ghost and prefect patrol routes, and so forth unless directed to by law.

He didn't even hesitate on that one.

With the paperwork finished he was now a member of the Hogwarts faculty.

Right then was probably a good time to be a responsible adult and tackle the legal and financial challenges of trying to claim his entitlements as the heir to the Morrigan family. He really needed to get on top of that. Hire a surrogate to perform his duties in the Wizengomat and Hogwarts board of governors. It was either that or pull a Dumbledore and somehow manage to do all three full-time jobs at once.

Like hell!

But it was his last day of freedom, he had nobody in mind for either surrogate position and he simply didn't want to. So instead, he spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning up and redecorating. Whoever said Harry Potter didn't have a feminine side obviously didn't know him.

---

Everyone seemed rather surprised to see him when he arrived for the welcoming feast. They looked at him as if he were a complete stranger who had somehow broken into the castle.

For a split second he wondered if he had hallucinated the entire morning or walked into yet another alternate universe—that was until Professor Santiago passed a handful of galleons to Remus.

Ah. They had expected him to get lost in the castle. It was a reasonable concern, he supposed.

"I take it the castle didn't give you any trouble on your way up or down from your classroom?" Albus greeted.

Harry took the open seat between Severus and Filius before answering.

"Well, I'm definitely getting my cardio in, and I'm sure my knees will pay the price if I do this job for very many years, but for now, Hogwarts is lovely," Harry answered honestly.

"The school hasn't got you with a trick step, trap door, or switching staircase yet?" Elvira asked suspiciously.

"No! Why would she do that? She likes me," he exclaimed, coming to Hogwarts' defense.

A few of his fellow teachers shared concerned looks, obviously fearing for his sanity.

"You speak of the school as if it is a person," scoffed Minerva, "as if it can talk."

"Well, talk is a bit of a stretch. I would say communicate. The castle can communicate," Harry said with certainty, "but yes. She most certainly is a person."

Dumbledore stepped in.

"I find it enlightening to start conversations like this by defining our terms," he said, "despite all speaking English, we sometimes find ourselves in situations where we are talking in completely different languages."

Harry refrained from elaborating on Albus' pointing out he was thinking of Epicurus, not himself, but decided against it as he didn't want to derail the conversation. His colleagues would either descend into the minutia of which ancient philosopher said which. Which would add nothing to the discussion.
"I get exactly what you mean. Personhood, I think, is a rather broad term that should encompass more than human beings," Harry elaborated, "centaurs, giants, house elves, and even trolls are certainly persons, though trolls might be a bit of a stretch."

His fellow teachers began to nod in agreement to his statement.

"But those are all flesh and blood and I would expand my definition even further. Ghosts and even portraits display all the characteristics of 'Personhood' as well, do they not?" he asked rhetorically to another round of nods, "and in muggle fiction, even machines of the far-off future can think, communicate ideas and desires, or have unique personalities. By this definition I argue Hogwarts is a person."
The nodding eventually stoppe
d as he began sharing topics most of his peers weren't familiar with.
"Hogwarts, the castle, can think, feel, express ideas, and has a personality?" clarified Remus.

"Absolutely! A place this flooded with magic? Having witnessed so much history, tragedy, and beauty? She was bound to become more than a mere construction of stone and mortar eventually," he explained.

He received frowns for that one.

"That was an explanation for how such a thing could have come to be true, not an argument that it is true," criticized Pamona.

Harry thought on that. Yeah, he had segued into a bit of a non-sequitur. He would have to be careful about making arguments properly around these people. They were, after all, teachers. They would not tolerate poor grammar, rhetoric, or logical fallacies; Intentional, or otherwise.

"If I may be so bold, may I make an argument for it myself? It seems like a fun topic to play devil's advocate for." Asked Filius.

Harry nodded.

"Evidence for the castle being capable of thought, emotion, and express ideas and a personality?" he hummed to himself, "well, I would argue that the best evidence of that are the very trap doors and switching staircases we discussed earlier. They should merely be random, and though this could be chalked up to situational bias, the changes don't always feel particularly random, do they?"

Remus cut in.

"Sometimes the stairs only ever switch on you when you are in a rush, but most of the time the tricks of the school seem to be conspiring to get you into some kind of trouble," the werewolf observed, "and yet never too much trouble."

"In my experience," Minerva chimed in, "when the castle leads me on a trip I had not planned I find myself in a situation gone wildly out of control. Students fighting or lost or trapped or in some other manner it is obvious that I am needed there."

Harry had to resist the urge to nod. He wasn't from Hogwarts. He shouldn't hint at having those exact same experiences when he wasn't supposed to have never set foot there before, just that as a seer he knew the place itself was alive.

"So, the castle's personality, if we were to take this as a sign of sentient thought on the castle's part, is mischievous, but protective?" suggested Remus.

Wow. Completely missed the mark there, Remus.

"I don't think that's quite right," Severus countered, finally weighing in on the conversation, "it is a school, one intermittently meant to train warriors or well-adjusted adults. For that purpose, it does not want the students or faculty to die within its walls, but it does want to expose them to dangerous situations."

A bit closer to the mark, but a bit too pessimistic.

"So parental, but not babying." Minerva summarized, "I don't know. It does always seem more playful than it does resemble a mother falcon kicking its chick out of the nest to fly or die. I think we must be missing something."

It was then that Albus perked up.

"Wonderment," he explained in a word, hitting the nail on the head, "Hogwarts castle, above being a place of learning or safety, is a place of wonder. And her mischief-making is intended either to harden, educate, or—most importantly—expose the people in her walls to as many wonders as possible."
That about summed it up.

"Yes, I think that's right," agreed Remus, "the situations I landed in through little or no fault of my own, rare though they might have been, always led me to meeting the more interesting characters or places. To experiences that either hardened me, led to helping others, or simply inspired my imagination in ways that mere magic never could."

Harry's poker face broke as all around him everyone smiled and nodded in agreement. This was exactly the conclusion they had settled on in his original universe of how the castle conspired against her residents most of the time. If this was the caliber of conversation he could expect during mealtimes, then he was in good company to do what he loved: wasting mealtime away by discussing hypotheticals without committing to anything.

"I would very much like to have some pensieve parties with you all." Albus proposed, "and see if we could find any commonalities leading up to our wily adventures around the school. If we had done or said something to either offend the castle or make her think us deserving of reward leading up to any incidents."(A-N 1)

That did sound like a fun time. Unfortunately, none of them would have the free time to all get together and do such a thing anytime soon. As if to beleaguer that point, the first students to have taken the carriages walked into the Great Hall.

"Perhaps during the holiday break," Filius amended, "it would help to settle if our experiences here can't be chalked up to randomness and coincidences. For now, perchance we should be more conscientious? Let us try and notice any patterns in how Hogwarts treats us."

"And determine if Mister Morrigan's claims are true," Added Minerva, as a second carriageful of students walked in and took their seats at the different tables.

From there the conversation died as most of the teachers waved hello to the returning students. Or in Snape's case, return stink eyes to those who weren't happy to see him returning. Harry imitated Remus in sitting up stoically as the curious eyes of children and teenagers judged their worthiness. He failed miserably at remaining expressionless when he expanded his senses to try and feel the vibrations of conversation like he had with Bella and Draco only to hear comments about "the hot new guy sitting next to Snape." He needed to stop eavesdropping, because now his old habit of slouching in on himself when getting attention returned and he didn't need the extrasensory abilities to hear the giggles of young girls from the nearest table at his expense.

Was he blushing? He might have been blushing.

"I recommend caution, Mister Morrigan," warned Severus, the gigglers drawing his attention, "little girls with crushes are quaint. Teenage ones are terrifying and, more importantly, dangerous. Take it from a potions master."

Whether the man was trying to screw with him in retaliation to the vicious oratory bitch-slap from that morning or giving him a fair warning, Harry didn't know, which was why he didn't respond with the many retorts amounting to "I sincerely doubt you have any experiences with students having crushers on you". That, and he knew for a fact it wasn't true. God, he had to wonder about girls like Pansy and Romilda sometimes.

When the Great Hall was so full of students that their conversations were loud enough to make it impossible for the young ones to listen in on their elders, the chatting between staff members resumed.

Filius started a conversation with Albus about a recent paper discussing a theoretic charm meant to redirect the opposite force produced against an object when acting upon another object so that all of the force was directed on that second object, thus undoing the third law of thermodynamics. It was a fancy way of saying you could hit a rock with a sledgehammer and the rock would be twice as damaged, but you'd feel no recoil. Pretty neat, but well above Harry's ability to follow along.

"So, Severus." Harry began to start a friendly conversation to make up for that morning.

Snape looked up from his daunting task of glaring down any student who looked his way.

"I heard of a potion that was rumored to exist but was never confirmed. And I wanted your opinion on if its effects are even possible," he began, trying to tempt the academic with new knowledge.

Severus raised an eyebrow, which Harry took as a sign that he could continue bothering the man.
"It was called Liars Heartstone (AN-2). Supposedly, if you ingest the potion it makes you immune to Veritaserum," Harry explained, "with the catch being it stopped your heart dead if you were dosed with Veritaserum afterward. Reversible with palpitations combined with the antidote for Veritaserum, of course."

Snape blinked in confusion and seemed to suffer from a case of whiplash at the description. It was the kind of expression that said "what?!" more succinctly than words ever could.

"While I love the idea of a pre-emptive cyanide capsule in the event of interrogation," he began, and this time it was Harry's turn to blink and shake away a sudden case of whiplash, "I cannot think of a single combination of ingredients that would have that effect. The ingredients for Veritaserum itself affect brain chemistry—not anything that could affect hormones that increase or decrease the heart rate—and in fact has a soothing effect on the mind. I could probably come up with a potion that would have that effect if taken before a love or arousal potion, for what should be obvious reasons, but Veritaserum? Not a chance."

Harry smiled and nodded as the theories Severus was talking about went right over his head.

"Where did you hear of such an absurd potion?" Severus finally asked after failing to come up with a plausible answer to Harry's brain teaser.

"Town in Columbia," Harry admitted, "The small wizarding community there acted as a hub for the illegal movement of narcotics, animals, and human beings. They allegedly started making and taking the potion and were dying under questioning under Veritaserum, which disrupted authorities' efforts to end the trafficking. So, for years, Veritaserum was banned in interrogations."

Severus perked up and showed the rare sign of excitement.

"So, the potion is real? How does it work?" he asked eagerly.

"Oh, it was a complete farce," Harry admitted, "a farce that not only fooled the authorities into banning the use of Veritaserum and hamstrung their interdiction efforts but also tricked every lowlife criminal into buying and drinking the snake oil."

Severus blinked rapidly for a few seconds without speaking. Harry began to worry when he saw Snape's expression looked like he was in pain as his eyes watered slightly and his normally pale skin turned just a smidgeon red Until Harry realized Severus' face was straining against the laughter that threatened to spill out as he considered the hilarity of dozens if not hundreds of people being stymied by a fake potion.

Harry'd wanted to share that story with his original Snape for a long time. He had very nearly snuck away into the forbidden forest in order to retrieve the Resurrection Stone just to do so. He did eventually go back for it, but for very different reasons.

"But then how was it that the two wizards died?" Elvira, who sat on the opposite side of Snape, chimed in.

"They were both hand-picked to be fall guys with a history of heart problems and were both dosed by the same Auror. Or whatever magical law enforcement is called in the land of cocaine and caffeine. As you night have guessed, she didn't give them Veritaserum at all, but a small dose of chloroform laced with blue coral snake venom. Instant paralysis and heart attack," he explained, "thus, a years-long charade began."

Severus finally lost his battle and was forced to hide his laughter in his goblet by masking it as a coughing fit in need of water to cure.

Oh yeah. Harry had Snape's number.

"I believe it may be time to go meet the new students," said Minerva, excusing herself from the table, "I will return shortly."

She walked down the center aisle, past where the Sorting Hat and stool already sat, and strode through the large double doors.

Harry took this time to observe the excitable students who had filled the room almost to capacity. It took him mere moments to find the people he was looking for.

Ron, who was clearly not a prefect, sat near the end conspiring with Dean and Seamus in hushed tones about something or other. Probably rule-breaking or wartime information. He looked...softer, was the word that came to Harry's mind. Softer in this world than his own. It would seem that without Harry's influence, he hadn't become as much of a warrior at heart or in appearance. No giant chess pieces using you as a whiffle ball, Ron?

Hermione was a bit more difficult to spot, but there she was, hiding amongst the seventh years instead of the sixth. Her back hunched, her head in a book, and her person isolated from the other students. She seemed totally alone in the midst of the crowded table. Nobody talked to her. Nobody looked at her. Her posture and position at the Gryffindor table screamed "outcast", and it was a position Harry was familiar with.

Things did not seem well at Hogwarts.

He noted differences in other students as well. Neville looked much stronger in body, and he was disciplined in his posture. He wore his prefect's badge with pride. As did Fay Dunbar, a witch in his reality who had disappeared in fourth year after somehow taking her owls early. He heard she transferred back to a Muggle education but nobody knew for sure. Probably wise of the Muggleborn girl. In this world, she stuck around for some reason or another.

Draco was also much tamer than he remembered, not taking part in as much boisterous conversation with his classmates. Theo seemed to be the more energetic Slytherin of his year. There were other people in other years and houses he recognized. Both Patil sisters were in Ravenclaw, huddled with little Sue Li. He couldn't quite tell but Parvati looked less...girly. From a distance, she wasn't dressed up or make-upped like he remembered. Probably from not being so close to Lavender brown. Hanna and Susan were still fused at the shoulders in Hufflepuff, and there were many more new faces he hadn't known. Hogwarts had never been this crowded when he attended.

He would surely come to meet the new faces and learn the names to go with them soon enough.
His musings ended as Minerva returned with a litter of munchkins in tow, leaving Hagrid to sneak his way up to the head table where he joined them.

The hall went quiet as the scared eleven-year-olds stood at the center of attention before all eyes were on the sorting hat.

He began his song.

When young Godric hiked into the mountain brush thick,

He knew not what awaited him but marched on through soil slick.

He was joined by Rowena, who knew more than most,

the plants and beasts which the forest might host.

After weeks of trekking, who should they meet,

but the widow Helga who they found building a stone foundation at the mountain's feet.

The land of her deceased husband's held much promise, and forgotten to the ages,

so she was courted by Salazar, who sought to build a castle, a wizarding aegis.

Godric and Rowena made quick friends with these strangers,

and inspired by their plans and diligence, set aside their adventure in favor of these new labours.
And so the four, with magic and brawn, built a castle to glitter in the morning dawn.

To each they bestowed upon it's charter a different mission with which to barter.

For Slytherin sought safety and belonging in fellow followers of tradition,

he made the place a haven for their children, a sanctuary and beacon.

Helga knew naught but loneliness after leaving home for marriage and solitude again when plaque took that too away from her,

and so, she wanted a place of companionship, where meals and laughter of children could be heard.
Godric was a man of valor and sportsmanship, who wanted competition, rivalry and challenge in his daily life.

So made Hogwarts a place of hiking, boating, jousting and martial strife.

It was Rowena who helped them all achieve their mutual ideals, when she suggested they make a place that fulfilled all three, and a fourth to boot.

A place of learning, a school with no commute.

Huzzah! Her new friends and fiancé exclaimed. We shall make a school!

And so Hogwarts was born, but do not be a fool!

This is not merely a place of learning, but one of safety, kinship and self-mastery.

While you will be chosen to represent only one, fail to avail yourself of all four and you will live a life of slattery.​

Harry joined in the standing ovation the hat earned for that one. As did the entire staff table and most of the older students. The hat had really outdone himself this time.

From there the new students were sorted into the four houses and Harry tuned it out, although he did gift little miss Rose Zeller and with a smile and a wave when she noticed him and clapped along when she was sorted into Hufflepuff. He did the same with the other first years he had fitted for wands under Garrick. God, but they were adorable. Shame he wouldn't be teaching any of them this year.

He came back around when Albus stood preparing for his speech.

"We have one more sorting to do this evening," he announced, "as is tradition, on the rare occasions we have a new member of faculty who never attended Hogwarts, we have the rare treat of seeing an adult wearing the sorting hat. Allow me to introduce your new divination teacher: Professor Hadrian Morrigan!"

Severus elbowed him to stand up and Harry felt his feet obey. He could smell Snape's amusement at his expense coming off of the man like a miasma.

Harry decided not to fight it and descended the steps from the head table down to the stool listening to much encouragement from students and staff alike as they egged him on. He sat down and gave Minerva a wink as she dropped the hat over his head.

Silence.

The hat did not speak for a time.

"You must know you are making my life rather difficult, Mister Potter," the hat whispered into his ear.
Harry grinned, and in the recesses of his mind spoke back.

"I know you can't share anything you learn from me. So, I opened it all up for you to see," he thought.
"Adults are difficult enough to sort without being flooded with so much information about an alternate universe. With maturity comes variety in thought and ideas. Equal suitableness to each house. You, more so than others."

Harry shrugged.

"Process of elimination then?" he offered.

"Hmm. Actually, I think I already have you pegged for Ravenclaw."

Harry blinked.

"I've, uh, never been the best student," he admitted, "and I don't know a lot about very many things. I don't have a mind for trivia."

He felt the hats' amusement.

"It is easiest to be fooled when one tries to fool themselves. You, who has walked through life seeking enlightenment by dipping your toe into every manner of career, field of study, and hobby, think yourself unknowledgeable? You, who has walked on every continent, built ties to political, criminal, military, and religious factions the world over, think yourself unworldly?"

Harry had to concede that point. And noticed the hat skipped right over his single-minded focus on mastering his...telemetry-like ability.

"That one goes without saying. Yes, mister Potter, you're perfectly studious. when you want to be. When you are interested in a task or find it enjoyable. Hard-working in it too, and certainly friendly enough. But your love of fellow people is outweighed by both your raw intelligence and bottomless ambition. But I honestly cannot decide whether to put you with Slytherin or Ravenclaw."

Harry almost panicked there. Being in Slytherin could lead to mistrust amongst students he needed to trust him.

"You are ambitious and cunning though, are you not? Playing the most powerful men in Britain like fiddles. Launching business and nonprofit campaigns. All with the end goal of saving the world," the hat reminded him.

Well yeah, but he didn't want everybody to know about that side of him. He'd prefer to be in Gryffindor so people would focus more on the traits of said house.

"Well, I have a policy when students ask me to put them in Gryffindor to hide their Slytherin traits. Do you know what I do to them?" the hat asked, rhetorically.

Harry shook his head.

"I put them in SLYTHERIN!" he announced the last word to the entire Great Hall.

Harry couldn't help laughing at the hat's humor and chuckled to himself all the while as Minerva removed the hat and let him make his way up to the staff table. He noted more subdued applause from most of the student body and knew he may have just lost a good bit of rapport amongst Gryffindors at the very least. But that would be easy enough to rebuild.

With that out of the way, Dumbledore announced the feast and the tables filled with food.

Harry helped himself to the myriad flavors of the chicken. Buffalo, barbecue, parmesan garlic, ranch, and regular old country fried. He'd been eating so healthy recently that he didn't realize he was craving some greasy goodness. As he dug in, he felt Filius nudge his side.

"Psst. Pass this to Severus and Elvira," Filius whispered as he surreptitiously passed him a coin purse under the table.

He did so without thinking and returned to his food before the implications dawned on him. He turned to Severus to see him splitting his winnings with Elvira.

"You bet on me being in Slytherin of all places?" he asked in disbelief.

"With that vicious tongue of yours? Are you kidding?" Elvira said conspiratorially.

"I had you pegged for one at first sight, to be honest," admitted Severus as he counted the sickles in his hand, "You reek of self-confidence, and though it pains me to admit it, competence. I knew you had to be one of ours."

Harry spent the rest of dinner stewing in his grumpiness at that. He would respond to any questions from Filius, Severus, Albus, or Elvira with a perfectly enunciated "Grumble grumble", between mouthfuls.

Dinner ended with Albus' usual start-of-term announcements. Banned items, forbidden forest, Auror guards, new defense teacher, new Divination teacher. Blah, blah, and blah.

There was a bit of not-quiet-enough discontent among the students about him taking on Sybil's old position. Harry noticed Lavender was one of them and guessed they really liked the old professor, but Severus broke him of that notion when he leaned in and whispered into his ear.

"Many students dropped the class because of your predecessor's... misbehavior. Some of the young ladies are regretting that decision now that she's being replaced by a young, handsome, mysterious outlander."

And this little piggy went "Grumble, grumble, grumble." all the way to bed.

Despite Snape's best attempt at making him dread the first day of class, he was quite looking forward to it. He was getting a mixed group of sixth and seventh years from all four houses, as there weren't enough students taking the class to split them up. And he was certain they'd make life easy for him.

And so, he changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, eager to learn the names of all of the students who hadn't existed in his timeline. He was always good with names, particularly when he had the map on hand to remind him what said names were.

---

Notes:​

The original way he met the twins and their crew in the previous version was crap. I admitted that at the time, but I was trying to makeup for a plothole I overlooked. The map. This version is WAY better. I think you will all agree.

Also, slattery is a word. It means dirty* or untidy ness. It's where the word slut comes from, which didn't originally have sexual connotations. Hasn't been in use for half a millennia, but the sorting hat knows a lot of words not in common use anymore. Also, I REALLY want to write the story of Hogwarts founding based on this poem, but I have to finish all of these projects first.

(A/N-1)
I would invite you all to go back as well. Each time the castle seemed to lead people somewhere in the books.

(A/N-2)
Stolen shamelessly from the excellent fic, Renegade Cause by Silens Cursor. Aside from the ending.

---

​

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[RC107412]

"Who the hell is Harry Potter?"

Click to shrink...

love the story, so will this backfire later on in the story?

 

[Oddboy]

"OH SHIT THE MAP!" he yelled as he bolted upright in bed.

Click to shrink...

"Who the hell is Harry Potter?"

Good question. A better question would be, why was he also somehow named Hadrian Morrigan?

Click to shrink...

lmao

Ooops. That's totally not going to become a spot of trouble, noo.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

love the story, so will this backfire later on in the story?

Click to shrink...

Actually, I resolve it without many problems. In hindsight that was a mistake. I could have squeezed some drama out of that.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

lmao

Ooops. That's totally not going to become a spot of trouble, noo.

Click to shrink...

Same to you as above. I'm sorry.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 16:

First Day of School​

---

Harry knew very little about the effectiveness of this worlds Trelawney as a teacher, but from what he could piece together from the negative comments about her he suspected his new students would have some catching up to do. But how to determine their skill levels? Pop quiz? Start of term competency check?

Pffft! Yeah right!

But knowing what he wasn't going to do only went so far to help him decide on his course of action. One would think Harry would have spent a considerable amount of time planning for his first class. One would be wrong. Problems like these were most easily and efficiently solved by having a simple conversation.

And so, he relaxed into his day and slept in until after the first round of classes began before heading down to the great hall. He took all of the main hallways down to breakfast, eschewing all secret passages and shortcuts to ensure as much exposure as possible. This way, the maximum number of students and faculty had the chance to pass him in the halls, as he explored the castle. He needed people to get the impression that there was something here for him to learn. But he was also making room so that if the fates decided to throw a fast ball out of left field with a random encounter, it could do so.

He somehow managed to make it all the way to the staff table without any incident beyond a shy wave from the random student. Not even a run-in with Peeves. How disappointing.

The great hall was mostly empty, save for groups of fifth through seventh years forming study groups at the different tables. The primary classes (charms, transfiguration, defense, etc) taught first through fourth years in the mornings, and electives met in the afternoons and evenings. This was mostly to allow older students the extra sleep they needed, but also because post-OWL students could drop classes they wouldn't need for their career choices or simply didn't pass with a high enough OWL to continue in. This freed up time for their areas of interest.

"Good morning mister Morrigan." Rebecca Pomphrey greeted.

She was one of only six people at the table that late in the morning. Just her, Sinistra, and three people he hadn't met before. The other elective teachers. And oh hey! Hooch was here too.

"Professor Maven, Hannigan and Grey, I presume." Harry greeted the two men and woman.

Emma Grey was a positively ancient witch, likely a former head of Saint Mungo's based on the sheer power of her healing aura. Most people earned a sort of "stench" to their magic as they aged depending on the types of magic they used most frequently. For most, this stench was like a recipe with many different ingredients forming a dish that was a mixture of charms, transfiguration and curses. And if you focus on just one type of magic over all others? Then it was like pure garlic, or lavender or lemongrass. With some people their affinity for the one type of magic they used was so strong that he couldn't not feel it. The only person he knew with an aura so attuned to a particular field of magic was Filius, who truly was a charms master. Most healers had such an aura.

She made no indication that she was aware of her surroundings whatsoever, so he let her be.

"I hoped you might find these handy." Said Maven, a brown-haired man with a receding hairline to rival Arthur Weasley and glasses thick enough to do the same with Myrtle.

He produced from his robes a pack of papers which he passed down the table.

"It details what level of arithmancy and runes my students are at, for wherever such topics crossover with your subject in class." He explained. "Sinistra added a few of the same for astronomy, which I know has much more to do with divination than arithmancy does, but still."

And like that he had most of the information he needed! Sans the pop quiz or hair-pulling. Thank you Moirai!

"I doubt very much that there will be much crossover between our classes." Said James Hannigan, a silver fox with black, peppered hair. "But I hope we can get along as colleagues."

Harry nodded then feigned curiosity and confusion as he turned to madam Hooch, she returned his gaze. Gold eyes meeting emerald ones.

"What subject do you teach, ma'am?" He asked. "Nobody mentioned you."

"That is likely because I am not a professor. My name is Rolanda Hooch. I am contracted by Hogwarts to manage the inter-house Quidditch league, any sporting clubs and to teach broom-riding, fitness, nutrition and safety. Among other miscellaneous tasks." She explained. "It doesn't keep me busy enough to really be a full-time employee, let alone a professor."

That was a lot more detailed job position than Harry would have imagined her having. He always just thought she taught first years how to ride brooms and refereed the Quidditch games.

"That is very close to being as important as professorship." Harry said honestly. "Why did nobody see fit to mention you?"

The woman shrugged.

"Did anybody mention the house-elves or Auror guards by name?" She asked rhetorically. "Or Argus?"
"Who?" Harry asked, the name barely ringing a bell.

"The lead caretaker." Explained Andrew. "He manages the house elves and maintains cleanliness and order in the school."

Oh! That's right. Filch had a first name, didn't he?

"Are there many sports clubs, Rolanda?" Harry asked.

"Mostly game clubs. Chess, gobbstones and the like. Most members are members of other clubs as well which makes my job of maintaining them easy enough." She explained. "Students keep trying to form a soccer, rugby and basketball league but the Quidditch teams already monopolize the stadium and we can't get funding to build courts for basketball or tennis."

Can't get funding, or can't get approved for funding? Harry resisted the urge to ask aloud the question which he already knew the answer to.

"What about HEMA sports?" Harry asked, remembering the hat's song. "Didn't Godric build places all over the grounds for fencing, boating and jousting?"

He didn't so much see the eyes of every NEWT and OWL student in the Gryffindor table turn their heads to look at him as he finished that sentence, but he did feel them. Come on Harry. Poker face time.

"Yes, and the facilities and supplies for such activities have been maintained, but they never leave storage." Hooch answered, oblivious to the attention from the students. "Except for the boats, which are used to transport first years to the castle for no other reason than to have some use for them now that the school doesn't hold mock naval battles or other boating events."

Holy shit, that sounded awesome! He couldn't wait for word of this previously little-known Hogwarts history to make the rounds through the student body. Hooch was going to have a busy time in the coming months.

"And how many students are required to form a club?" He asked, prompting the students within earshot to start taking notes on the conversation.

"A baker's dozen." She answered, only now noticing Andrew, James and Rebecca were laughing quietly at some joke she wasn't part of.

Even Emma was smirking slightly, although it was hard to tell from the mountains of sagging wrinkles which formed her adorable face.

"And students may be members of as many clubs as they wish?" He clarified.

"So long as they attend the minimum number of meetings, which can become difficult once they exceed two or three." Hooch explained.

Harry hummed to himself. Mentally patting himself on the back for being such a good Samaritan as to help Madam Hooch expand her working hours and maybe earn her way to qualifying as a Professor. He was just nice, that way.

"One last question before I head off to class. How do students apply to form a club anyways?" He asked.

"They can get an application from their heads of house. They fill it out, get it signed by the minimum number of students and confirmed by all four heads and the headmaster." She concluded.
"Got it!" He said, before standing up to leave.

"Welp!" Harry said more loudly than necessary. "I'm off to my first class. You guys caught all of that, right?"

He finished by pointing an accusatory finger to the different study groups near the staff table and got all the confirmation he needed. He didn't turn around to see the look of horror or anger on Rolinda's face as he left.

Boy did he ever wish he was a student again. This was going to be an interesting year.

---

His students were already waiting for him at the bottom of the ladder leading up to the divination classroom when he arrived. New teachers tended to have the effect of inspiring students to arrive early. Curiosity was a powerful motivator.

"Hello all!" He greeted as he pushed through the crowd to the wall directly behind the ladder.
He hip-checked the wall and it moved aside to reveal a stone staircase leading up to his classroom.
"Take the ladder or follow me up the stairs, I don't much care which." He commanded as he unlocked the trapdoor above them with a flick of his wand.

The 6th and 7th years split into two groups, one of which followed him up the stone steps and the other which took the ladder. When they arrived in his classroom their surprise at the change of decoration was evident on their faces.

Bright sunlight? Blue open curtains? Landscape paintings on the walls? Clean rugs covering the floor? Clearly, they were in the wrong classroom. these were surely the thoughts swirling in their heads.
But no. No they were not.

"Alright everybody! Pull up a piece of floor and we can get started." Harry instructed.

The students looked around nervously and a few were askance when they discovered there were no chairs or cushions on which to sit.

"You expect us to sit on the dirty floor?" Pansy demanded.

"No. I expect you to stand throughout my classes." Harry informed them. "And before you ask the "why", it is because standing improves blood flow, concentration and energy levels. You are here to learn, not to nap. That's what history class is for."

He got a few chuckles from the crack at Professor Binns but some of them still looked mutinous. So he elaborated further.

"You will notice that there is no chair behind my desk either." He said. "That is because sitting is terrible for your health overall. Some people say it's as bad for you as smoking, but that is a bit of an exaggeration. So stand or kneel, and live longer, healthier lives."

Interesting trivia tended to get children and teenagers to cooperate and so the ones in his classroom spread out until they were roughly equidistant from one another.

"Now. Roll call." He said then pointed to each student in turn and called their name without consulting the paper listing their names.

"Weasley, Patil, Patil, Zabini, Parkinson, Greengrass, Turpin, Brown, Malfoy, Abbot, Macmillan, Corner, Boot, Chang, Mclaggen aaaand." There were three students he didn't recognize.

He checked the roll. The first name he didn't recognize had a German name, but he tried his best.
"Veer-shcu-bleh-meh." Nailed it.

"Veirshunhenz." The young man corrected.

"That's what I said!" Harry said defensively. "Veer-to-the-left."

He studiously ignored the snickers from Mr Veirshunhenz's fellow Slytherins.

"Miss Calliope". he asked.

"H-here." Said a Ravenclaw redhead hiding behind Cho.

Timid little thing, that one.

"And finally, mister... Finnigan?" He said in surprise, discovering Seamus had a slightly older brother in this universe.

"Here." Said Sean Finnigan in an even thicker accent than his pyrotechnic brother.

Harry placed the student roll back onto his desk and addressed his class.

"Now. I'm going to turn around and write down my lesson plan on the board. Things that I believe are most important in a study of Divination. I will be very disappointed to discover my neck coated in spit balls after the fact." Harry informed the class and got a few chuckles. "Afterwards we will discuss which ones you have learned properly and which you haven't. I don't mean to disparage my predecessor, but I need to determine your skill levels and pop quizzes suck."

He turned around and wrote down a list of bullet points. Writing "Meditation Techniques" for the first one and "Ironic Predictions" for the second. Before he could continue onto the third his magical senses went haywire.

Reality was torn asunder as the laws of causality ceased to function for a split second and a hitherto nonexistent presence appeared in his classroom. If he wasn't already familiar with this exact type of magic or recognized the magical signature of this entity he would have spun around and fired a blasting curse at it. Since neither was the case he simply continued writing the bullet points and chastised the young girl.

"Miss Granger, while you and any other student not on my register roll are more than welcome to sit in on my class, I must ask that you use the door next time." He said before turning around.

He tried not to let his surprise at her appearance show on his face. He barely recognized the girl. It was hard to think of the brave, beautiful woman from his timeline as still having buckteeth, unkept hair and an un-made face. But here she was, with no effort put into her appearance. And he had thought Andrew's glasses were thick! He did recall she had never really bothered with makeup before the Yule ball and only after that did she wear it regularly when Lavendar and Parvati corrupted her. But her hair was never that bad.

The young woman was so shocked at being called out that she barely had the frame of mind to tuck the time turner back into her jumper. How she ever managed to keep that dangerous object a secret with such a terrible poker face baffled him. That she managed to do so for going on three years in this universe was a miracle.

"Er. Yes sir." Hermione managed to squeak out as she found a spot to stand between Padma and Parvati.

Harry barely avoided gagging at sir, but nodded at her before turning around and finishing the bullet points.

It was concerning to learn that his friend was stretching herself so thin by taking every single class (except, until now, divination). Almost as concerning as allowing a 13-16 year old girl own a time turner. Or at least it would be if the device weren't so inappropriately named.

The time turner did not, in fact, allow people to travel through time. As far as anybody knew such a thing was still impossible, despite the best efforts of Unspeakables. It actually used a really complicated, but interesting, workaround.

The same workaround that the resurrection stone used.

It worked by way of tapping into, what magical theorists called, The Ethereal Cuneiform. It was a concept which postulated(correctly) that the world around you, from the rocks, to the trees, to the water and air, remembered things. As if all of history was recorded upon it like etchings on a record disk. More unorthodox theorists might claim that reality itself, the fabric of spacetime and ambient magic, are also etched with memories. Music of tragedies and events long-forgotten carved into the greater consciousness of the universe. This more advanced theory was called the noosphere hypothesis.

The former is how ghosts and hauntings are formed. A terrible event can soak the earth with such raw emotion that the place replays that event into perpetuity until it is cleansed.

The resurrection stone worked on the latter principle, tapping into this "noosphere", this conglomerate of disembodied memories, emotions and knowledge in order to construct an artificial ghost of sorts. As with ghosts it is NOT the actual soul of the lost person. Worse, unlike ghosts it wasn't even an accurate representation of the deceased, but an imitation based on the faded memories that still-living people hold of them, or such memories that are bound to physical objects or places.

When all such people die or places lose their magic, what then does the resurrection stone have to use as a reference? Nothing, and so it creates a new wholly fictional person.

Experiments he and the Unspeakables did with the resurrection stone were put on hold once they figured this out, as the ethics of creating new self-aware sentients out of thin air were raised and none of them had the answer to it. And then the even more compelling ethical quandary of obliterating said entities each time the ring was removed led them to seal the object away. Permanently.

The time turner also worked on the noosphere hypothesis. How? By rewriting the memories within the noosphere. Effectively redefining past events by allowing the user to physically enter the noosphere and traverse it's memory like in a pensive. Difference with a pensive being, any energy put into the system affects the end result. Move an object within the noosphere memory and it effectively moves in real life.

It didn't break any laws of thermodynamics because no matter was being introduce or removed from the timeline, and energy was being conserved. You still exerted your own calories and magical energy with everything you did while traversing the noosphere. It's why time-turners were so exhausting to use. You also did not risk breaking causality, which was a nice touch.

What did all of this mean in lamens terms? It means the time turner does nothing more than create a shared hallucination between the participant and THE WORLD while allowing the user to experience more time subjectively. Or at least, this was the watered down version Hermione from his future had given him. He was sure the long version involved a lot of icky math and application of theoretical physics.

Higher magic is both weird and dangerous, and not for the faint of heart.

As for the resurrection stone, which they discovered was a twin to the mirror of Erised which also tapped into the noosphere, it meant that any information gleaned from shades brought back from it was unreliable at best and fictitious at worst. So, any anthropological or criminal investigative value it held was minimal, but still there. It would have been nice if the DMLE could simply resurrect murder victims and ask them who it was that killed them, unfortunately the biases of the investigators themselves changed the beliefs and knowledge of said shade before it even came into existence.
Just like the Mirror of Erised. Neither knowledge, nor truth.

"Let's start with he basics." Harry said as he turned back to the classroom. "Which meditation techniques have you learned so far in this class?"

His response was a sea of vacant looks, shrugging, and knowing smirks. Yup. That's about what he expected.

"Okay. What topics have you discussed?" He asked.

"Tea leaf reading." Offered Lisa Turpin.

"Dream recording and interpretation." Offered Ronald.

"We did a little palmistry." Said Blaise.

Harry sighed.

"That is all rather superficial, and little to do with applicable divination. Worse, all of those things can be taught together in a single semester, if that." Harry told them. "So what did you do the entire time in these classes?"

More shrugs and snickers.

"We mostly listened to Trelawney drone on about the great prophecy she had made and other constant self-aggrandizing." Hermione said distastefully.

Even the students who he knew were fond of the discipline begrudgingly agreed with that assessment. The more Harry learned about this universe's Trelawney the less he liked her. And he wasn't the biggest fan of the old bint in his own world.

"Very well. I guess we will have to go back to basics and build you guys up. But that's going to take some planning on my part so it'll have to wait for our next class together." He told that. "Which means this class will be entirely, ehem, academic."

They collectively groaned at that and they, as one, picked up their bags and retrieved their divination textbooks. Clearly they had misunderstood his meaning.

"No need for those!" He told them. "What I meant to say is, we will do an ask-and-answer session. Ask me anything at all - to do with divination, not my personal life thank you very much - and I will answer. Decide amongst yourselves what you want me to lecture on."

They perked up at this pronouncement and happily threw their bags back down before huddling together to whisper conspiratorially. Ah, inter-house unity. It's such a beautiful thing. He allowed them to debate amongst themselves as he added a few notes into his extremely rough course outline. It would be pretty atrocious if his sixth and seventh year students ended up receiving the same course work as his third year students, but it was looking like this would be the case.

He would have to find out a method for creating a more streamlined workload for the older students and at least get them through two or three years of work within the one year he had with them. So that they could pass his standards of what a divination OWL should be.

"Dousing rods." Verschen-whatever eventually demanded.

Harry looked up.

"Is that what you've all agreed on?" Harry clarified.

They mostly all nodded.

"Very well, before I discuss it, who would like to volunteer and explain what they already know, or think they know, about dousing." Harry asked.

Cho was the only one interested in the opportunity to earn some house points so Harry called on her hand.

"Holding two metal or wooden rods, a witch or wizard may use them as a sort of compass guiding them to whatever it is they seek." She cited. "The mechanisms by which they work is unknown."

"Two points to Ravenclaw." Harry awarded, only for Cho to look borderline offended at the insultingly low reward. "One for each point of that statement you got correct, out of five."

Harry flipped the chalk board over to the other side and wrote down each of the five points.

1 - Metal or wooden rods

2 - Compass analogy

3 - Wizard or witch

4 - Whatever they seek

5 - Mechanisms unknown​

"Points one and two are correct. Points three through five are not." Harry Explained. "The use of dousing rods are not restricted to wizards and witches, the utility of seeking out things with them is highly limited and situation, and the mechanism by which they work is well documented and very simple."

The students rushed to dig out their note-taking equipment and jot down everything he said.

"On point number three, dousing is a technique of divining that, similar to EVERY other discipline within divination, anybody can learn and implement." Harry explained. "Even Muggles."

Zabini's hand shot up before the first syllable of the m-word left is mouth.

"Yes, mister Zabini?" Harry called on him.

"To clarify, when you say Muggles can use every technique within divination, are you exaggerating or can they really?" He asked in apparently genuine curiosity.

"Oh yes. Muggles, and even animals, dream don't you know? And just like all of us here every single Muggle has had one dream or another where they experienced an event that had yet to occur, or peered into the lives of people long deceased. Even if most don't remember it, which is one of the greatest values in having a dream journal. You would be shocked how magical Muggles really are."
Another hand, this time from Ron.

"Yes, mister Weasley?" Harry called on his best friend.

"Err, like what?" Ron asked hesitantly before adding "sir" as an afterthought.

Harry resisted the urge to cringe at being called sir by a student. He knew then and there he would never get used to the honorific so long as he taught his former classmates.

"Would you mind clarifying your question, please?"

"What kind of magic can Muggles do that would shock us?" He asked. "Not to get too off topic."

"Hmmm. I need to think of the best example." Harry stalled as he considered it, before the perfect one came to him. "I would have to say apparation."

"Muggles can apparate!?" Nearly half the class gushed out in unison.

"Muggles can apparate." Harry confirmed. "Almost always by accident and in times of extreme stress or else when unknowingly exposed to places of deep and ancient magic."

The students hung on his every word.

"Especially children, and usually with tragic ends. Every year hundreds of Muggles, children and adults alike, disappear without a trace." Harry explained. "They're sometimes found alive at impossible distances from where they vanished, or else... pieces of them are found. Most commonly in the wilderness, where the magic of nature hangs thick."

A few hisses of empathetic pain from his students later and he called on Calliope when he raised his hands.

"In other words muggles can sometimes tap into the ambient magic around them." He summarized.
"So... children go camping or hiking, hear a scary noise and splinch themselves?" The quiet girl clarified.

Harry nodded.

"And the pieces of them are carried off by the animals or elements. Or worse, they apparate ten meters down into the ground or into the middle of a tree or boulder. Instant death." He explained. "It's all very tragic."(AN-1)

Another hand from Draco.

"Last one on this topic then I'm getting back to dousing. Yes, mister Malfoy?" He called on his future friend.

"How and why are Muggles able to do magic at all?" He asked. "I thought the differentiation between Muggle and wizard was specifically that Muggles had no magic, not little magic like squibs."

This time Harry sucked in air through his teeth.

"That is a very complicated and highly debated topic. There are three main camps." Harry summarized. "The first is that external magic, traditionally classified as sorcery, in the form of ritualistic spells or just tapping into ambient energy is accessible to everyone and everything, which opens up a whole host of debates on the source of such magics. Demons? Gods? Other entities? It's a whole can of worms."

He went on.

"The second possibility is that Muggles inability to use magic is mostly developmental and partially psychological. Just like if you don't use muscles they remain weak, if you are not surrounded by and using magic you lose it. Muggle cities are built far away from natural sources of magic, and so their infants are not exposed to it as children, or more importantly while in the womb. Additionally, modern muggles do not even believe in magic. More accurately, they have a strong disbelief in it. It has been proven, in rather inhumane experiments, that you can convince a witch or wizard they are Muggles through the use of confundus or temporary memory charms, and they completely lose the ability to do magic, even accidentally. I personally don't buy either, the former because squibs, the latter because the implication that the whole of Muggle society could be transmuted into a wizarding society overnight with a single television cast is too scary to think about. But it does make sense. Ancient wizards convinced others only they could do magic, thus giving them a position of supreme power."

Which, if true, was a better explanation for the statute of secrecy than "Muggles are a threat" or "Muggles are annoying." If simply revealing magic to the world would increase the number of witches and wizards from the manageable hundred million or so to six billion and counting. Then no governing body could possibly manage such a large number of slaves, er, tax livestock, er, sovereign citizens. Yes. Sovereign citizens.

Many would claim that such anarchy would lead to a level of freedom, liberty and progression for the earth not seen since the Atlantean-Lemurian wars some twelve thousand years ago. It was the kind of pie-in-the-sky belief he'd expect from those gun-toting nutjobs Draco and Dudley went to the shooting range with. The kind of people who promoted civilian owned heavy artillery. Then again, Harry lived in a society where the average person had instant access to napalm, heavy ordinance and worse through a few swishes of a stick and yet they weren't living in a mad-max hellscape.

Harry was a bit skeptical of such romantic notions of what an ungoverned society would be like, and preferred to stay away from miniguns and bazookas, thank you very much. Either way, if he ever went down the insane supervillain route his first order of business would be a planetwide confundus to convince all muggles that they were wizards and watch the result.

"But onto point number four." Harry moved on before the conversation devolved any further. "You cannot use dousing rods to find just anything. They are specifically suited for discovering things that are buried beneath the ground and are either metallic or liquid. Which goes into point number five, why do they work?"

He gave the class ten whole seconds to see if any of them would offer a guess or hypothesis. A few were at least putting on a show of being deep in thought, but no hands flew into the air.

"Well, let's think about all of the pieces in this system. You have the human body, a generator which produces massive amounts of electromagnetic energy, grounded into the earth through your feet, a giant ball of molten magnetic nickel and iron. In your hands are two highly conductive rods of metal with a space of insulating air between them". He explained.

"And when passing over an underground stream of water, an insulator, whose friction with the highly insulated earth around it causes the conductive rods close in on each other ever so perceptibly. Or else when passing magnetically charged landmines, or buried treasure or gold veins. Are you starting to see how unmagical such a system is?" Harry finished.

It was amusing to see Hermione and Draco's faces light up at the explanation. Especially considering it was from listening to them drunkenly discuss this exact topic during an after party.

Celebrating with Ginny and Viktor after their teams trounced one-another in the 2006 Quidditch finals. Funnily enough it had been Draco who argued that the entire process was purely mundane and explained by electromagnetic principles. It was Hermione who believed that there was some element of magic to it, seeing as the system required a human mind directing the rods to find specific things. Magic is intent, after all.

Harry suspected it was a lot of column A and a bit of column B.

From there Harry let the class discuss the topics he had just lectured on between themselves as he stood back behind his desk refining his lesson plans.

And that was how the rest of their two hours together went. The students debating the mechanics of dousing rods, and other possible "magic" that could be wholly scientific, or the implications of Muggles being magical and not knowing it. A few astute students, like Blaise and Daphne, were off in their own little corner drafting an experiment to test the possibilities. Smart kids, all of them. A generation nearly wasted in war, and whose losses were a tragedy for the whole of wizardkind.

Soon the bell rang and Harry dismissed them.

"I will see you all next lesson and by then I'll have a proper class prepared for you." He informed them.
The students hesitated, but Hermione at least raised her hand and asked the question in all of their minds.

"What about homework?" She asked.

"Oh I won't be giving out homework." Harry said. "Ever."

The cheers of his students nearly shattered the sliding glass doors. Well, most of them. Cho, Daphne and Hermione were a bit offended.

Harry consoled them.

"A good friend of mine" - Hermione - " did some research into the effects of homework on subject retention." He explained. "Turns out, she wasn't the first as there have been hundreds of scientific studies in Muggle primary, secondary and post-secondary education all over the world on this exact topic. And guess what? Homework does not benefit student learning in any way. Worse, it seems to cause division in home life and further burns them out. Undue stress that I will not subject you to."
Skepticism reigned supreme upon his student's faces.

"I say your time outside of class is better spent researching things that interest you, and building friendships and romances with your peers that will last a lifetime and serve you much better than an essay on dousing rods." He explained. "Also, it's my job to teach you and I am given this slotted time to do so."

And if he can't teach them his subject in that slotted time, then he ought to be fired. Or so was his personal belief on this matter. He knew not to share such an idea with his students, or else fear repercussion when one of them inevitably mouthed off to another professor when they gave them an exorbitant amount of homework out of pure sadism.

"But, if you want the added workload I am happy to give out extra credit for a foot of writing on any of the debates you all had during this class. But I do genuinely believe your time would be better spent in the jousting club." He explained.

"There isn't a jousting club!" Ron corrected him angrily, before switching to excitement and curiosity. "Is there?!"

"There will be one soon." Harry said as ominously as he could manage.

---

Harry kept Hermione, Draco, Hannah and miss Cassiope behind as he made copies of his schedules.

"My classroom tends to be empty for more hours of the day than not." He told them. "As such, I have more free time to help study groups than most teachers. Here are the hours when students may come here for a quiet place to study, and I will happily help anybody in need with their homework or personal projects."

He handed them each a copy of flyers he had made detailing what he just said and the times of day his classroom and office were open to the public.

"I will be persona-non-grata on weekends, but if you would all be so kind as to pin these on your common-room notice boards, that would be greaaaaaaat." Harry requested.

They all agreed and made their way towards the exit.

"Miss Granger, stay." He said as he walked to the office.

"But, I'll be late to transfiguration!" She complained.

He waited for Draco, Hannah and Cassiope to vanish before responding cheekily.

"You and I both know you have no shortage of time to make it to any of your classes." He said knowingly as he disappeared into his private quarters.

One quick floo trip later and he returned from the Marchbanks residence with arms cradling an orange furball. The moment he re-entered the classroom Hermione melted into a fawning puddle at the sight of Crookshanks. Instant connection. That kind of thing happens when a witch meets her destined familiar.

"Oh, my goodness!" She squeaked as she held her hands out for the cat, which Harry happily passed over. "He's soooo handsome!"

It's true what they say, isn't it? About beauty being in the eye of the beholder? Only his bonded witch could find Crookshanks to be anything less than butt ugly, but seeing his clearly overworked and hyper-stressed friend light up was worth looking at the hideous feline.

"What's his name?" She asked cheerfully.

"Crookshanks. He is very old, but well-behaved. He is also yours." He said.

She paled at that.

"Mine?!" She said aghast. "I can't care for a pet. I'm barely getting enough sleep as it is!"

Harry smirked at his friend.

"He is not to be your pet. He is your familiar. I met him at the shop and knew I was meant to deliver him to you." He said, making jazz hands around his head and mounting "Psychic!" when she looked at him confusedly. "And he will not only be no trouble at all, but I argue he will be instrumental in helping relieve you of the stress you're going through by taking EVERY CLASS AT ONCE!"

She blushed profusely at that last part, burying her face into the purring ball of fur in her arms.

"Tell me, are you planning to also take all of the seventh year electives for your final year?" He asked.
"Just alchemy and magical theory, but I plan to drop History, ancient runes and arithmancy after this year." She said. "I think they'll let me test out and get my NEWTs for them early."

Harry nodded as he retrieved the transfer form, bill of sale and registration for Crookshanks.

"I filled out all of your information weeks ago. All you need to do is sign and he is legally yours." He told her as he splayed the documents on his desk.

She walked up to read them, still clutching Crookshanks for dear life, before her eyes widened comically at the sight of her home address, date of birth and other private information listed. She glanced at him suspiciously.

"Psychic!" He said dramatically, making jazz hands again.

She snorted at his antics but took the quill he offered all the same. With one flourish she took ownership of the part-kneazal and Harry folded the documents for her and stuffed them into her bag. So that she wouldn't have to let go of her new familiar, obviously.

He then pulled out his handy-dandy notebook and crossed off "Deliver Crookshanks to Hermione." It was right between "Have a conversation with the white house Hayes desk" and "Enchant an Adult-Sized Little Tyke Cozy Coupe to go 400 kph and taking it on the autobahn."

Contrary to popular belief, it was in fact possible to get a speeding ticket on that stretch of German road... but they'd have to catch you first!

As Hermione made to leave Harry opened the passage entrance for the stairway for her.

"And miss Granger." He called down after her.

She stopped and looked back up at him.

"Can I expect to see your name on my student roll next week?"

She absolutely blossomed into the brightest, buck-toothed grin Harry had ever seen.

"You can bet your life on it, Professor."

Harry smiled back at her before closing the entrance and returning to his desk. Only for her to return nanoseconds later through the trap door entrance, this time lacking Crookshanks and seemingly out of breath.

"Turn back from in front of the painting of Victoria falls." He instructed.

The girl went where he pointed, retrieved the time turner and turned back.

All in all, a good first day of class.

---

Missing 411? That's right! A wizard did it!

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[KollegeX]

Hm. The muggle/magic/dousing discussion was a bit weird. I dont mind the premise as long as you do something with it. Otherwise it makes for weird world changing for no reason at all

 

[Zerrer]

Every time this story updates, it gets even better. I gotta say, I love this. It's a perfect balance of everything I want in an HP fic.

 

[Vanbers]

Always nice to see more of this, it's quite interesting to see all the changes and interactions in the world that come about.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Hm. The muggle/magic/dousing discussion was a bit weird. I dont mind the premise as long as you do something with it. Otherwise it makes for weird world changing for no reason at all

Click to shrink...

It's not to contradict the main series, but to make magic make more sense and expand the rules. I'm not trying to change the rules, I'm trying to put in... any at all! Which Harry Potter rarely has. Powerful magic means nothing if magic has no limits.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 17:

A Relaxing First Day​

---

After a quiet lunch Harry went back to class for his second ever lesson as Divination professor. This time with the third years. All the way back up to his classroom he cursed fate for his class only being open to third years and above. Those first years could be damned adorable.

How did Minerva manage to avoid getting fired for picking one of them up and squeezing them like a teddy bear until unconscious or dead? How did she resist the temptation? And now he was obsessing about memories of Teddy when he was a toddler.

Sad mood : Incoming.

Fortunately, word had already gotten around that his class was interesting so once he arrived at the entrance to his classroom the youngest students he would get to teach were waiting for him. All four houses were, again, present. Clearly interest in the class was so low that he would be teaching all four houses together for each year.

How could a teacher be so bad that the majority of students changed classes or chose more difficult topics over one that most regarded as an easy O? When even lazy students dropped your easy class because the boredom was unbearable, that's when you know you've done a poor job.

"Up you go." He told them as he once again unlocked the trap door and opened the passage upwards.
When they shuffled into the classroom and didn't make any complaints about the standing requirements - news moves fast around here - he jumped into the lesson.

"This semester I will be teaching you all a skill that will not only serve you immensely in your study of Divination, but life in general." He told them. "I will be teaching as many forms of meditation and mental awareness as humanly possible."

He realized he forgot a step and so retrieved the roll call for the thirty-two students who now filled his classroom.

"Ambercrombe, Leanne."

"Present." Said a brown-haired Slytherin.

He moved down the list.

There was Bach, Johanne - descendent of the wizarding musical genius himself - and a Denavan, Homer. Then he got to the first name he recognized.

"Greengrass, Astoria?"

"Here." Said his once almost future sister-in-law.

She looked so different from her sister it was almost surprising they had the same father at all.
He went on to confirm the presence of a Godford Gregory, Hectorson Kevin, Inguine Denis, Istline Jessica, the twins Benjamin and Eric Johnson, and Komherst Sascha.

Then he got to a really interesting name.

"Lovegood, Xenophilius Junior."

"Present." Said Luna's adorable little brother.

If he ever got back to his own reality, he'd have to share any memories he got of the boy with his wandcrafting friend. Wait... Was Luna's mom alive?! He'd have to check on that.

From there he called on a pair of twins named Geoffrey and Ferdinand Olgaff, who were transfers from Durmstrang based on their accents and names, and a lot of other names he had never heard before in his life.

He paused on the final name on his register, somehow having completely failed to notice her presence until now.

"Vane, Romilda." He managed to say without a groan.

"Present." Said the uncomfortably well-endowed third year.

Jesus, had she been a third year when he was in his sixth? He remembered being under the impression that she was a year ABOVE him at the time. He would have to make sure to be wary of any gifts from her. Hadn't she eventually been arrested for date rape in his world, or was he thinking of somebody else? He hoped he was thinking of somebody else.

"So." He began his lecture properly. "What do you all know about meditation techniques?"

Several hands went up.

"Yes, miss Greengrass?" He called on little Tori.

"It's the first step towards learning occlumency techniques." She said. "Will you be teaching us occlumency later?"

Harry stifled a groan at the other students mumbling about what occlumency might be.

"Occlumency is the art of defending one's mind against mental attacks, ranging from mind-reading, obliviation or the imperius." Harry explained succinctly. "And no, I will never teach anybody occlumency. Both because it is illegal for me to do so, and I am not capable of teaching it anyways. I have zero talent in the mind arts and stopped after learning occlumency myself."

A few of the hands were still raised.

"Yes, mister Lovegood." He called on the platinum blonde.

"Meditation has health benefits that can extend life expectancy and quality of life and if done consistently can lead to unlocking mystical abilities, like astral projection and levitation."

Harry did groan that time, barely resisting the urge to take points. Actually, you know what?

"Two points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin for both of your terrible answers." He said to Xenophilius and Astoria. "And for, I must assume deliberately, trying to derail the topic of conversation."

The classroom soured at that, but Harry couldn't help noticing shy smirks on the two individuals in question. Yup. Definitely troublemakers.

"I will give you all one more chance to earn houseplants." He stopped talking as the class snickered and he let out a longwinded sigh.

Yup. He was never going to live that one down. Day one and he'd already made a gaff that would haunt him for however long his teaching career lasted.

"Yes, miss Vane." He called on the only person brave enough to raise a hand.

"Meditation is the art of mastering one's mind to improve concentration, emotional discipline, relaxation and other such purposes." She simplified.

"Two points to Gryffindor." He said as he wrote down her explanation on the blackboard, verbatim. "We will be focusing more on the relaxation and concentration portions of this discipline, and I'll be teaching it to you in such a way as to help you in all of your classes."

He waved his hand and magically pulled back all of the curtains to reveal the glass doors to the patios and the outdoor seating beyond.

"If everybody would file out to the patios and take a seat." He instructed.

They obeyed and shuffled out, trying to form little groups with their friends. There were five chairs on each patio, except for his at very center one where there were no chairs at all. He took his spot leaning against the rails of said middle patio and waited for everybody to take their seats. Five to a patio, with a few stragglers getting extra space.

"Today's lesson is very simple. You are to do as I do. Let me demonstrate." Harry instructed.

He leaned forward against the railing and took a deep breath, then slowly released it as he let his body relax. For the next minute he calmly gazed out on the grounds of Hogwarts. The warm afternoon breeze and singing of birds serenading him and the glittering waves of the black lake holding his loose attention. He didn't think. He didn't feel. He simply was.

After his sixty seconds of staring off into space was over, he took another deep breath and stood up, before addressing the class.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the most effective way I've found to clear one's mind." He explained. "Whereas most teachers of this skill will unhelpfully tell you to just clear your mind, I will actually walk you through the process of doing so. Now. You try."

A few hands shot up.

"Yes, miss Istline." He called on the African girl.

"You looked like you were just daydreaming. Are you teaching us to daydream?" She asked in her thick accent.

"Actually, yes. Daydreaming is a pretty good description of what I want you to try and do." He admitted. "But more like, staring off into space. Relax, try and think of nothing, and just be present."
Most of his students simply shrugged and did their best to comply. They each tried to relax in their seats and imitate his deep breath and sigh.

He stretched his magical senses and discovered that most of his students were failing at the exercise. He could feel the thoughts, emotions and jitteriness wafting off of them.

"I don't want you to consider or think about the beauty in the animals, plants or landscape you're gazing at. As valuable as it is to retain that wonder we all should have at the majesty of this world, that's not what I'm teaching you right now. You are trying to think about nothing at all. Release your worries and let the world revolve around you."

He spent the rest of the class walking amongst his students, pulling individuals aside and helping them perform more specific techniques to relax and let go. Some needed to slouch more, others did better with proper posture. Some had even simpler ticks that helped them to meditate, like rocking on their heels or walking around the classroom.

Mister Lovegood was the most difficult to figure out, but eventually he called on the house elfs to bring sliced cucumbers and celery for him to snack on and that did the trick. Some people really concentrate better when they're chewing on something, and Harry had a hunch little Xeno was one of them. A hunch that proved correct. he told the young man to bring gum to his classes in the future, and that he'd talk to the other teachers about letting him use it in their classes as well.

All the while he taught his class he wrote notes on every student in his handy dandy notebook, with plans to later write short files on all of them. Their learning needs, their personalities, physicals traits unique to them so he could better remember their names. Anything that would help him to better work with them. By the end of their two hours together he had all of them in a meditative state of cleared minds through one technique or another. Those who fell into the technique naturally he allowed to stop early and had them read or work on any assignments from other classes.

"Homework tonight is to simply try and enter this same state while writing assignments for your other classes." He told them. "In our next class we will discuss any observations you all made while trying to write essays in a meditative state. You are dismissed."

They filed out and Harry sighed in relief when the last of his students filed out.

First day of teaching : Finished.

---

"I hear you're teaching students how to daydream. Is this an accurate description of your class?" Minerva asked him at dinner, pulling out the claws before he even had time to fill his plate.

He decided on the 'lets put her off balance' approach to verbal sparring today.

"Actually yeah." Said Harry. "It's a meditative exercise to help some concentrate better and others to relax and unwind. Recover from the stresses of life."

"I cannot fathom how much benefit many of us would have derived from such techniques during our academic and professional careers had we learned these as thirteen-year-olds." Professor Grey piped up from her seat, winking at Minerva in a not-so-subtle jab.

The ancient one can speak?! It's a miracle!

"I agree." Said Severus. "I was taught occlumency early on and were I emperor for a day I would mandate it be taught before entering Hogwarts."

"May the world shudder, emperor Severus is convening with his court." Quipped Remus.

Severus gave him a sneering grin, clearly agreeing with the sentiment. Men like Severus, who knew themselves better than most, were as terrified of gaining power and authority as others were of them gaining said power and authority. There was a kind of wisdom in that.

"You aren't teaching them proto-occlumency are you?" Asked Filius.

"Maybe? That wasn't my intention, but these techniques could help them learn the mind arts later down the line." Harry admitted. "My aim is to help them better perform in divination classes and to better compliment their learning in other subjects. They need to klnow how to clear their mind in order to perform divination, so I need to get that prerequisite out of the way."

"As much as I'm sure my other professors appreciate that, I hope you do, in fact, plan to teach said divination techniques?" Asked Albus from his seat at the center of the table.

"Of course. It's only the first day and the students here are quick to pick up what I have to teach. Within a few weeks those taking my class seriously will have mastered them and the rest of the year will be a breeze." He said. "If all of the years are as bright as the third, sixth and seventh I might not have trouble catching them up in time for OWL and NEWT testing."

Minerva hummed.
"You do have your work cut out for you." She admitted.

Albus gave her a stern look and Harry simply had to ask.

"I'm hesitant to ask." He admitted. "But I'm equally hesitant to take the testimony of my students at face value. So tell me, how poor was my predecessor at her job?"

The uncomfortable silence spoke volume.

"I'm sorry to say, you will have to take the word of any students at face value." Said Albus. "You will find none at this table who will speak poorly of a coworker, past or present."

Harry expected as much, but it was still worth a shot. his non answer was still an answer though.
Translated into English, Albus just said the students were telling the truth. Not that he doubted them.

---

His first class must have been quick to post the flyers he gave them because after dinner twenty people, of all houses, came to his classroom for quiet study. Most of them not having even attended his classes to begin with. Thus, his classroom became a second library for students all the way from first to seventh years, each doing their own projects or wanting to help out by tutoring. He was surprised to find Hermione hadn't taken on the additional workload of helping with the study group, but Draco had. He recognized Rose Zeller doing her first essay on the levitation charm and couldn't stop himself from walking her and her two new Hufflepuff friends through it.

Hurrah! Adorable first years in his classroom!

Sad mood over Teddy : gone. Mostly.

He spent most of the open study period organizing what he'd written about his students so far and devising a file system he was making about them. It was as they were nearing curfew that the students finally filed out. All save for one.

"Professor Morrigan?" Draco approached him.

Harry was immediately on the defensive but did his best to hide it. Yes, he had been a well-behaved and attentive student and yes, his Draco had become one of his best friends and confidants in the future. But this was Draco Malfoy circa 1996.

He could tell through his stretched-out senses that the boy hadn't been marked but he was still the son of one of Voldemort's most trusted Death Eaters. Caution was to be expected.

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?" Said Harry.

"Granger, Abbot and I were wondering if you'd allow us to write a collaborative essay on the inherent magical abilities of Muggles." He asked.

The hair on the back of Harry's neck stood straight up.

"Collaborative essay?" He dared to ask.

He had never heard of such a thing in Hogwarts.

"Yeah. She and I have been arguing nonstop about it in the library and Hannah's just been writing down our points. Playing peacekeeper. We figured we might do what uncle Sev, er, Professors Snape lets us do and write an antagonistic essay together." Draco explains. "Where the essay contains both of our arguments and separate conclusions."

Snape let them get away with that? Harry wasn't sure, that sounded too... fun, for Snape to give it the green light. And like too much of a headache to read through. Just a vicious argument between those two in written format? Somehow, he wondered if this was more of a solution to cure the headache of their verbal arguments that the entire faculty came up with long ago. It seemed likely. With Harry not existing in this world the only two people who could have taken his place as Draco's nemesis would be Hermione and Ron... and Ron honestly wasn't up to the task.

"Against my better judgement, I'll allow this. If, you can provide proper sources on every point and counterpoint." Harry acquiesced. "But where are you going to get sources for your citations?"

"Already on top of that. I floo'd my father and now he's hounding a friend in the department of mysteries about info on it and Hannah convinced Susan to floo her aunt and ask for some public case files for the incidents you mentioned." Draco said with just a hint of pride in his forethought.

Still, something about what Draco just said didn't sit well with him.

"How in the world did you manage to make a floo call?" Harry asked.

"Oh right! I forgot you never attended Hogwarts." Said Draco. "All of the common rooms have fireplaces, but they only allow calls, not travel. They're monitored and have an Auror stationed next to each one, but we're allowed to use them if we schedule hours ahead of time."

Seemed like a huge security risk, but he recalled this was, in fact, the case in his own universe. Even if very few Gryffindors availed themselves of this privilege.

"I would love to have sat in on that conversation. How did Lucius react to that contentious theory?" Harry asked.

Draco somehow took this as an invitation to play ad libs.

"Hey dad? Is it true that Muggles often perform accidental apparation and kill themselves by splinching or reappearing in unfortunate places?" He said in an imitation of himself.

He then pretended to be sitting down with a book in one hand and glass of wine in the other, wearing a dour expression. While in this position he made a confused face before standing up, reaching into an imaginary container of some kind, then motioned as if igniting the floo in a separate fireplace.(Because of course Lucius has multiple fireplaces in his home office.) and stuck his head into said fictional fireplace.

"Rookwood. A word please." Said Draco in a damned good Lucius impression. "Mhmm. U-huh. I see. Fascinating."

Draco then imitated removing his head from the second floo and returning to his seat, before using his Lucius impersonation once more.

"That is correct."

Harry couldn't help laughing at the great performance, all without breaking character or so much as smirking too. he even went so far as to clap. Draco made a mocking bow as if he were being applauded by an entourage and Harry had to kick him out with a jest threat of detention.

This job was going to kill him. These kids were just too much sometimes.

He was about ready to turn in for the night himself when he decided to call on Hedwig. He wanted to share his first day with Bella so set about writing a letter detailing his excellent start.

Before he could even dip his quill into the ink a massive eagle owl swooped into his classroom. A very familiar eagle owl too.

Great. It was his first day as teacher and Lucius was already sending him hate mail.

Deciding it was best to get things over with he took the letter from the majestic creature's talon and tore it open.

We are proud of you

Welcome to the house of green

Love, the sisters black.

B.A.N​

Harry recognized all three distinct handwritings in the note and didn't even need to stretch out his senses to realize Bella, Andy and Narcissa were all drinking at Malfoy manor. Deduction could be a powerful form of divination in its own right at times.

It was actually adorable how they had signed their initials separately and in the order they had written the note.

Still, one terrible haiku warranted another.

Your pride is welcome

A lion in snake's clothing

Your son's a menace

H.E.M​

He sincerely hoped concatenation and possessives weren't a poetic faux-pass in the art of haiku-craft. It was kind of cheating he guessed, but he didn't care much. He was a Slytherin now, cheating was to be expected of him.

He was proud to discover each line of his haiku directly addressed each sister in turn in the exact same order they had addressed him. Sometimes cleverness was purely accidental.

And so, hoping the three sisters weren't passed out or being too much of a bother to Dobby, he sealed the letter and sent it back with the Malfoy eagle owl.

Today was a good day.

---

​

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I take commissions now! you can pay me to write your fanfiction as three others are currently doing. My prices are as follows.

$25 per 1000 words of fanfiction, with some wiggle room. I don't pad my work. You also get to video chat with me as I type the first chapter.

$25 per 500 words for original fiction/nonfiction or anything else that is not fanfiction. I am still looking for my first nonfiction gig so I can move into ghostwriting professionally, so if you have a novel you really want written contact me.

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[UberJJK]

He was proud to discover each line of his haiku directly addressed each sister in turn in the exact same order they had addressed him. Sometimes cleverness was purely accidental.

Click to shrink...

Did I miss something here? Because the first line of Harry's reply clearly addresses the second line of the sister's haiku while his second line could arguably address the first. Only the third clearly addresses its counterpart.

 

[KollegeX]

It's not to contradict the main series, but to make magic make more sense and expand the rules. I'm not trying to change the rules, I'm trying to put in... any at all! Which Harry Potter rarely has. Powerful magic means nothing if magic has no limits.

Click to shrink...

Hmm. I dont really care about conrmtradictions per se, but more about the general thing. Adding things in fanfiction can go right but also very wrong. But ignoring the topic and potential issues of "its just a psychological block", i am always wary of authors trying to introduce "rules" to magic. Or maybe rules is the wrong word. There are rules in hp. Some agreed upon and mentiond "gamps law something" some more debatable "casting dark magic bad for you".
What HP lacks is a system. And many authors are trying to fit magic into their system instead of adding rules for unexplored magic and its usually weird. Not necessarily bad in itself but its something that can be a negative for some.

It is subjective of course, but i hold to the believe that adding observable behaviour is fine, but making magic a science makes it inherently unmagical im my opinion.

But again. Wait and see. This fic definitely seems worth suffering some weirdness for

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Hmm. I dont really care about conrmtradictions per se, but more about the general thing. Adding things in fanfiction can go right but also very wrong. But ignoring the topic and potential issues of "its just a psychological block", i am always wary of authors trying to introduce "rules" to magic. Or maybe rules is the wrong word. There are rules in hp. Some agreed upon and mentiond "gamps law something" some more debatable "casting dark magic bad for you".
What HP lacks is a system. And many authors are trying to fit magic into their system instead of adding rules for unexplored magic and its usually weird. Not necessarily bad in itself but its something that can be a negative for some.

It is subjective of course, but i hold to the believe that adding observable behaviour is fine, but making magic a science makes it inherently unmagical im my opinion.

But again. Wait and see. This fic definitely seems worth suffering some weirdness for

Click to shrink...

I misworded the psychological block part.

A psychological block prevents people from developing magic in the first place. If you don't develop it in infanthood and childhood, it's gone forever. That requires being around magic and seeing it used.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Did I miss something here? Because the first line of Harry's reply clearly addresses the second line of the sister's haiku while his second line could arguably address the first. Only the third clearly addresses its counterpart.

Click to shrink...

Good catch! Fixed it.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

But ignoring the topic and potential issues of "its just a psychological block",

Click to shrink...

Fixed it. Go read the paragraph again.