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

[Epitome of Eccentricity]

D-did Walburga accidentally the dark lord?

 

[NonsensicalRants]

D-did Walburga accidentally the dark lord?

Click to shrink...

Nah! Just knocked him out completely by accident. He wishes she'd just killed him.

 

[Teiwaz]

Australia time

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Australia time

Click to shrink...

It's Egypt time too.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Wow, this chapter went about as well as a fart in church. Did you guys hate it that much?

 

[bearblue]

I liked it. Was confused about Walburga until I remembered what year it was. So thumbs up!

 

[NonsensicalRants]

I liked it. Was confused about Walburga until I remembered what year it was. So thumbs up!

Click to shrink...

Walburga black. Sirius and Regulus's mother. Alive in this universe, yeah.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 5:

Dueling Preliminaries
​

---

Harry stared at the eagle owl perched on his windowsill. He knew this eagle owl, and for the life of him he couldn't fathom a reason why Draco Malfoy would be writing him directly. He must have spent an entire minute glaring at it suspiciously while it glared back.

Wanting to get on with his day, Harry relented and approached the bird. Noting sourly that Hedwig seemed completely nonplussed by the foreign owl, something his Hedwig would not be okay with, he took the letter and balked at the name on the envelope.

"Oh. That explains why you're here Swash." Harry said to Draco's owl.

Somehow he'd completely forgotten that Bellatrix was Draco's aunt. With her sane in this world, surely they were closer as well. Close enough for him to lend her his owl, at least. He deduced from this that she either lived with the Malfoys or visited them semi-regularly. He filed that information away for later as Swash flew away.

"Well, now the sum total of my packing includes you two and a letter." Harry said to Hedwig and Crookshanks. "Man, I sure do love not having a lot of crap to pack."

With the sun freshly risen his time at the leaky cauldron was at an end. Garrick had already agreed to let him move into his apprentice room above the store and it was a godsend in terms of saving money. Living somewhere rent free is always a great boon.

Pocketing the unopened letter, he picked up Hedwig and left his hotel room for the last time.
Crookshanks followed in his wake as he passed through the Leaky Cauldron and meandered down Diagon Alley. Using the signet ring Garrick had given him to open the front door he entered the shop and made a beeline upstairs to the apprentice bedroom as quietly as he could.

The room was as spartan as he remembered, but the lack of a second bed was decidedly odd to him. In his time studying there back in 2000 the only reason Garrick had two beds in there was because Luna and him had to share the room. Of course, the spare bed went completely unused with Luna preferring to share his during their three months together. What a wonderful three months it had been. The longest relationship he'd ever had up until that point. Then he had to go and ruin it by calling it a relationship.

Where are we going? What do we call what we have? These were the questions he had asked Luna. She had answered them by laughing in his face.

Feeling sufficiently heartbroken and used he had quit his failed apprenticeship with Ollivander. Mostly because he just didn't have Luna's knack for wand lore and it showed in his lack of progress, but also because they had hit a roadblock in their research into the Eldar wand and twin phoenix core wands. Plus, he needed to get away from the woman who had turned him into a fuck boy only to then deny him the relationship he wanted.

It had taken a lot of time and a lot of flings to get over the heartbreak from that one. By the time Hermione intervened by telling him to stop being such a man whore he was already over it and was dating Daphne exclusively, which led to a whole host of new concerns by his best friend. In time Daphne would prove all of those concerns wrong, even if they didn't stay together either.

It had been a rather terse conversation. He never thought he'd hear the sentence "You can't get rid of heartache by drowning it with booze or burying it in every vagina in the nation." come out of Hermione Granger's mouth, and yet he had. And he would wind up repeating them to her whenever she got on his case after that. It was a instant classic in terms of Granger wisdom.

With Hedwig and Crookshanks comfortably situated in his new room, Harry finally went downstairs to begin the day. Standing behind the counter and watching the alley fill with morning light had been a great start to his days back when he worked here in his time. Nobody came in this early, but an early, relaxing start to the day was the best start to a day.

"Welp, let's see what Crazy Mccrazyface wants." Harry said to himself as he withdrew the letter from his breast pocket.

He ripped it open and out fell two Quidditch tickets and a letter. Disregarding the tickets he opened the letter to give it a read.

To Garrick Ollivander's Apprentice.

We did not exchange names during my visit to your shop, and that was mostly due to my rudeness. Allow me to remedy this mistake by finally introducing myself. My name is Bellatrix Black, and it was a pleasure meeting you.

I am writing this letter to you with an apology gift to show my sincerest gratitude. You showed incredible patience in both tolerating my sunny disposition and in situating me with a new wand so quickly. I hope to meet you again soon. Should you accept and use this gift I believe I shall.
I am still hoping you will arrange a time and day to help me repair my first wand.

Yours sincerely,

Bellatrix Black

PS: I asked my niece what a dominatrix was. I usually do not appreciate such crude humor, but I must admit the mental image of somebody chaining their disobedient wand to a bedpost and whipping it with a leather cat of nine tails is rather humorous indeed.
​

Niece? Was Draco Malfoy born female in this universe? That was a frightening thought. Unless of course Ballatrix was referring to Nymphadora, who seemed more likely to know what a dominatrix was. But the fact that the letter was sent with Draco's Eagle owl instead of the Tonks family owl suggested the former. The idea of Bellatrix being on good terms with both the Malfoys and the Tonks seemed unlikely. Then again he had no idea of Andromeda even married Ted and produced that wonderful metamorph and mother to his godson.

Now he was thinking of little Teddy again. Why was the slightest thought of his godson the thing that always brought down his mood?

"I never took you for a dueling buff." Ollivander said offhandedly as he walked past to unlock the front door. "Figured you were more into Quidditch. When did you have the time to get tickets for the preliminaries?"

Harry looked back down at the tickets and, sure enough, the symbol for the dueling league was plastered onto both. It consisted of two wands crossed in combat over two swords crossed in combat.

"You had me pegged correctly. Never been to watch a dueling tournament before in my life." Harry admitted. "These tickets came with a thank you note."

"From whom?" Garrick asked, his curiosity now obviously piqued.

"A nice lady who came in yesterday with a blockage in her wand. I got her a new spare and promised to set up an appointment to help her try and clear it." Harry explained, feigning ignorance as to her name. "Letter is signed Bellatrix Black."

"Ooooh, she's won a few championships. One of the best duelists in the women's league here in sunny England." Garrick explained, walking over.

Harry had zero difficulty believing that Bellatrix was a dueling champion. It was the idea that she wasn't fighting and killing in the war that boggled his mind.

"When is the match?" Garrick asked.

Harry turned the tickets back around to read the details.

"Today." Harry said before looking at his watch and comparing it to the time listed on the tickets. "In thirty minutes."

Garrick grabbed his coat from the hanger beside the counter.

"Well let's head on out then." Garrick insisted. "Business is slow on Wednesdays anyways. Especially this early."

Harry shrugged and followed him out the front door, locking it behind him. With a wave of his wand he conjured a small sign on the over the window with his chicken scratch declaring they were away. Intricate conjurations like this were better done with wands, he could never get the texture and lettering right wandlessly.

Busy watching hot babes beat the piss out of each other. Come back later.​

Harry followed Garrick down the alley towards the nosy pair of judgmental Aurors. Apparating or flooing directly into or out of Diagon Alley was verboten, so they'd floo from the Leaky Cauldron.
"Where are we going?" Garrick asked as he reached for the pot of floo powder.

Harry checked the tickets again.

"Cork Quidditch stadium." Harry said.

"Ah. The Cork Warlocks are sponsoring the preliminaries this year, are they? Well I know who I'm cheering on this season." Garrick told him as he grabbed a fistful of floo.

"The Corkscrew." Ollivander called out only to vanish in a flash of green flames.

Harry recognized it as the name of the popular wizarding pub in Cork and followed suit. He landed on Irish soil seconds later, untangling himself from the heap on the ground he had become.

"Wow. Not a fan of floo travel are you?" Garrick said ss he helped Harry up.

"Not a fan of any kind of magical travel. Save broomstick." Harry admitted as he brushed himself off. "Long walk to the stadium?"

"Nope. Right up the street. Thirty minute walk tops." Garrick.

"Just side-along me." Harry insisted.

Garrick obliged and a few seconds later they were standing on the pier of an island halfway between Roches Point and Weaver's point. Roche's point lighthouse was on clear display and was almost in throwing distance. The only part of the island visible to Muggles was known as Harbour Rock on the north side. The rest of the island was a Quidditch pitch with no stands save the grassy hills surrounding it. All open air, picnic seating.

Harry had played here twice during his Quidditch career, both on sunny, breezy days. Thankfully the European Quidditch league played from late spring to early autumn, so they didn't have to deal with the frigid rain or snowstorms Cork Bay sometimes got. And apparently so did the British and Irish dueling leagues. Nobody liked dueling or flying with fifty kilometer per hour sleet and hail flying into their face.

"Well, let's go find our seats." Garrick said.

They walked up to the small gazebo that served as a gate. Which seemed rather pointless seeing as there were no fences or wards preventing people from just walking past them. Save the two conductors and wide-open view of the entire island that would have any freeloader spotted and promptly booted in half a second.

"Tickets please." The blonde conductor asked in a voice far deeper than his frail appearance would indicate.

Harry presented them to the conductors who promptly ripped both in half, handing the pair their stubs.
"Seats A5 and A6. Follow the white markings on the grass, should be just to the right of the entrance." The blonde man said boredly.

Harry and Garrick walked through the gazebo and onto the grassy field. The rings of the Quidditch pitch were far to the right and far to the left, with the "stands" surrounding it all the way to the lapping shore. Most of the free ground space was already taken up by people and their blankets. Many had even brought along picnic baskets. Harry was certain they were magically expanded to be larger on the inside than the outside and were probably full of food and booze.

"Here we are." Garrick announced when they reached a spot of grass with white lettering declaring them A5 and A6.

Harry conjured a thick, wool blanket over the two spots and got comfortable. The stands were sloped, like perfect hills surrounding the pitch so they could all see over each-other's heads towards the action. Harry had never seen a Quidditch pitch cordoned off into squares like this, although he supposed it wasn't that shocking of a change to be made to a Quidditch pitch compared to a magic hedge grove.

Each squared off section had folding chairs surrounding it and a judges desk where absolutely ancient witches and wizards sat talking. The regular folding chairs seated the many ladies intent on participating in the preliminaries here. Harry spotted the mess of curly black hair he attributed to Voldemort's right hand in the square directly in front of them. Clearly Bellatrix had picked these seats out specifically for them. That or she was entitled as a participant to invite two people to watch her and everybody else had blown her off. Harry could recognize a gift of last resort.

Their seats had them right behind two large men. They had the kind of body type of men who worked hard labor but didn't eat well or control their drink. The kind of muscular fat that made women swoon. Buff fat. They were buff fat.

"So, what exactly is the purpose of these preliminary matches?" Harry asked Garrick once they were both comfortable.

"Partly as tryout matches to judge who should be allowed into proper matches at all, but mostly for sportsmanship and strategy forming." Garrick explained. "These preliminary duels have none of the pressure or rewards of real duels, so the participants can have a more relaxed spar to better gague each-other to come up with training regiments and strategies for their real duels."

"Oh! So it's like a pre-season game? Has no bearing on later matchups or rankings, just good fun and warmup for the real deal?" Harry clarified.

"Exactimuno." Garrick said. "Also, keep an ear to the ground. Literally. The markings on the grass are speakers connected to our nearest dueling square, specifically the announcer."

No sooner did the words leave Garrick's mouth than did the announcer pipe up from the ground.
"Good morning loyalists and special guests of participants alike, In ring A today we have some fan favorites returning and some fresh blook vying for a chance to compete. On the docket today for contestants new to the scene includes recent Hogwarts graduate Alicia Spinnet..."

Harry blinked at the name and did a double take as the dark-skinned girl stood up from her folding chair in the pitch below. He hadn't recognized her, but he hadn't been looking for her either. She hadn't been a duelist in his world.

"Recent migrant from South Africa, Bathory Hendrix, no relation. Also trying her hand at dueling for the first time is Hogwarts professor and survivalist expert Elvira De Santiago." The announcer went on.

Harry sat up straighter to get a look at the women in question as they were announced. Each stood up to bow to each other and the judges as they were called.

Miss Hendrix was an even darker, and seemingly even younger woman than Alicia. She kept a clean shaven head and a bright orange scarf. Of course, he was more interested in this Hogwarts professor, whom he assumed was the latest person Ablus has suckered into the cursed Defense position. She looked nothing like the mistress of darkness. For one she was a golden-brown Hispanic woman instead of the pale white horror hostess. For another she was all muscle and lacked the cartoonishly overexaggerated cleavage that Cassandra Peterson boasted. Still, she was a handsome woman and was in no way ugly. Classic Tomboy look. Kind of reminded him of a dark skinned, more rugged Tonks. All this combined with her short, cropped hair and she looked like Elvira on opposite day.

Needless to say, Harry already liked her. Couldn't wait to see how she fought.

"For returning duelists we have two-time dueling champion Bellatrix Black. And while she may never have won a championship we also have head of the DMLE Amelia Bones."

Harry blinked again as the older redhead, whom he was thankful had not been assassinated in the last month as in his timeline, stood up and bowed. He guessed with her being the head of the DMLE she didn't see field work very often and had to keep her combat skills sharpened somehow. Dueling for sport seemed as good a way for her to do that as any.

It was the final of the six names in pit A that made harry blink the hardest.

"Finally, we have One-time champion Arianna Figg returning for her fifth season."

---

Notes:​

For those of you confused, this is the NEW chapter 5, and all of it is new to the story. I rewrote the entire story(well, some of it) on ffnet and lost a lot of fans for deleting chapters and adding them back. Fortunately, QQ has the ability to insert earlier chapters so I don't have to do that. A lot is being changes, added or removed. Mostly based on teh feedback of patrons. Then new chapter six will be here soon. Probably by the time you finish reading this sentence. Enjoy.

Things being added or taken away:​

- There will be much more time with Bellatrix and Harry dating. A LOT more time with these two. Starting with this chapter actually.

- More time with Dumbledore being confused. Specifically confused. Somehow his brilliant mind coming with ingenious, but incorrect, explanations for the enigma that is Hadrian Morrigan is a huge hit and I'm going to stuff the story full of it because pretty much all of my patrons demanded it. I don't bash Dumbledore, ever. But picking on him is funny.

- More time with Lily and the Marauders. And now the grandparents generation as well. Once I figure out which pair of names to use for Harry's grandparents. None of you reviewers seem to agree on that one. I also need to figure out which members of their generation are still alive. Walburga, Cygnus, Abraxas etc.

- I am removing and have removed the friendship with the goblin nation.

- I am removing the entire religious artifacts plotline.

- I am removing the flashbacks to Harry's world, even those with the department of Mysteries even though it is VERY important for later chapters. Except maybe the one with Draco and Dudley.

- I am keeping the Voldemort/Tom Riddle POV chapters. Was going to split them into a separate story, but they are just too good.

If ffnet simply had an "Insert new chapter between 4 and 5 and renumber the ones after that" my life would have been much easier.

---

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[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 6:

Deuling Styles and Wand Malfunctions​

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Harry blinked in surprise. He was doing a lot of that today.

"Any relation to Arianna Dumbledore and Arabella Figg?" Harry asked Garrick.

"Never heard of the former, daughter of the latter." Garrick answered boredly.

For a second there he thought he might have found the major branching point in this timeline, or at least one of them. And to the people here the significance of her surviving to old age would seem as inconsequential as anybody else doing so. Now he was feeling somewhat eager to actually research the history of this world and its people. Or at least the people he knew.

"Our first matchup will be Professor Santiago against Madame Bones." The announcer declared.

"Oh wow, they just get right into it huh?" Harry asked. "No warmup drills? No pleasantries?"

"Meh. They'll shake hands before they start slinging curses." Garrick told him with a shrug.

And indeed, as soon as the other participants sat back down Elvira and Amelia walked up to each-other and shook hands.

While they did this what looked like four security guards began setting up pillars of bone around the arena and conjuring a screen of glass to connect them. The bone was probably either from dragons or other magically resistant creature. Their body parts made for good ward "stones", anchors for magic sapping wards that would redirect any magic directly into the ground like the grounding wire of a house. It was taking them an oddly long time to conjure the glass around it though. Why would they have trouble with something so simple?
"It's diamond." Garrick whispered to Harry when his confusion showed on his face.

Oh! Enchanted dragon bone sapper wards with diamond shielding connecting them? Yeah, that would block pretty much any legal charm, jinx or curse. Certainly any tournament legal ones, whatever those were. Now that he knew it was diamond, he was suddenly impressed by the speed at which the four conjurers were working. Each managed to create five whole meters of the wall by themselves in about a minute. And that was probably their entire job.

Harry couldn't do that. Well, with a lot of practice he could get that good at it, but that would be an entire career path in and of itself.

When these security workers gave the all-clear Elvira and Amelia walked to opposite sides of their little arena and gave a customary bow before pointing their wands at one-another. They remained like that for a few moments as they waited for the judge to instruct them to begin.
"Begin." The judge's voice came up from the ground.

Elvira's wand danced in her hand as she conjured a fast-moving length of rope, followed by a rubber ball and a small spear of ice.

Madame bones had started to cast a regular shielding charm but abandoned it in favor of dodging the physical projectiles. She must have planned to gauge her opponent's casting power by the feel of her jinxes and curses against her shield, but such standard shields weren't any good against physical objects. Now she was flatfooted and casting the usual array of Auror charms.

Harry recognized it as the StExIn formation. The stunner spell, followed by a disarming charm followed by a binding curse. The wand movements of each flowed smoothly into the next and allowed the spell chain to be cast faster than most random spell combinations. It was a favorite "light" spell chain when you're trying not to hurt a suspect.

"Didn't take her for a heap user." A woman behind them murmured to explained unhelpfully.

"Heap user?" Harry asked Garrick much more quietly than the woman behind them.

"The technique Elvira is using was actually originally developed to counter unforgivables or other curses that can't be blocked by shield charms." Ollivander informed him. "But in dueling pits it's called the heap method. The conjured objects, if not vanished quickly, form a heap around the arena."

"Hm." Harry said. "Most people don't know this but one of the best spells for blocking a killing curse is Avis, and if you're feeling cheeky, Orchideos. A would-be murderer is always surprised to have their spell foiled by a flock of hummingbirds or a large bouquet of roses." Harry added.

The two blue-collared gentleman in front of them both turned around with raised eyebrows at Harry's commentary and he was shocked to realize how old they were. Surely they were in their sixties or older. He was even more shocked to recognize one as Crabbe senior. No, not Vincent's father, Vincent's grandfather. The two men turned around in whispered conversation before Harry could try for a conversation.

He turned back to watch the duel to see Amelia had switched to alternating from the usual stunner or otherwise incapacitating charms to vanishing charms to erase the projectiles.

"Wait a minute... Elvira has already won!" Harry exclaimed.

"Indeed. And I think Amelia knows it." Garrick hummed.

A heap of conjured objects in a dueling arena made prime material for transfigurations. One of the first things transfiguration students learned at the NEWT level was that conjured objects are about ten times easier to transfigure than "real" objects. It takes one tenth the time and one tenth the effort compared to "real" objects. But for the person who conjured it in the first place? It was one hundred times easier. Which meant that with every rubber ball, length of rope, metal chain or other conjuration Elvira hurled became potential fuel for a massive non-living to living transfiguration later.

She was clearly setting up a trap for the Auror who, experienced in fighting though she may be, it was clear that the dueling pit was as new to her as it was to Harry. He had the benefit of looking in from the outside and being able to see her mistakes, and he hadn't even noticed it before she had based on the change of tactics.

"Whoa." Harry said quietly when the pile of rubbish around Amelia's feet rose and formed a hulking, furry mass.

That was a polar bear. Polar bears are funking terrifying. So was Amelia now that she had revealed her propensity for using organ exploding curses on conjured animals. He was certain the organ expelling curse was tournament illegal, but maybe using it on conjured beasts was allowed? Regardless, that was whole lot of intestines snaking out of the very dead polar bear. Literally.

Had Amelia managed to cast an organ expelling curse on the bear and then transfigure said organs into a swarm of snaked in one swift motion? How did she even do that?!

His question was answered when a moment later the army of cobras, pythons, anacondas and black mambas wrapped around Amelia and turned her into a little sushi roll, unable to move. She hadn't done the transfiguration. Elvira had.

"Madame Bones is unable to continue the duel. Professor De Santiago is the victor!" The announcer's voice declared from beneath their blanket.

Harry clapped along with the rest of the viewers in section A as the duel came to a close. The smattering of cheers continued as Elvira canceled her transfigurations and conjurations, releasing Amelia. The warders took down the diamond barrier as the pair shook hands before returning to their seats stoically. Neither boasted, neither complained. It was all great sportsmanship.

When the next two participants walked up to take their places Harry sat up a bit straighter.

"The second duel of the day will be Bellatrix Black versus Arianne Figg." The announcer said.

The two ladies shook hands before walking to their opposite sides of the arena. As they did so the warders checked the dragon bone pillars and conjured a new barrier of diamond. When they gave the all-clear Bellatrix and Arianna bowed in the customary duelist manner and took up a battle-ready position.

"You may begin." The judge's voice came up from the ground.

The two were casting as soon as the final syllable left his lips.

Arianna, like Amelia, favored charms but instead of the usual Auror ensemble she went for a more elemental approach. The stream of white, liquid flames coming out of her wand was slow moving, but it filled the entire thin arena between her and Bellatrix, cutting off the latter's line of sight. Harry didn't even recognize the spell, but he did recognize Bellatrix's. A whip of equally white light erupted from her wand and cracked as she slashed it at the ground.

She twirled her wand and it danced like ribbon. Where it collided with the liquid white flames, said flames subsided, absorbed into the rope ofl ight.

"A capacitance whip? That's really advanced." Garrick commented boredly.

Really advanced didn't come close to describing the level of difficulty that the capacitance whip was. It was what's known as a flesh abstraction spell, which sounds a lot nastier than it was. Master level spells came in many varieties, one of the hardest was abstract component-based spells. A wand movement and incantation just didn't cut it for these, you also had to have one or both of two other things. Knowledge of a skill and the muscle memory of practicing said skill.

The watercolor photograph spell was the most quintessential of these. It allowed the caster to create a watercolor painting of whatever they were currently looking at, like taking a photo. In order to cast said spell you had to actually be a watercolor painter. You had to spend years learning color theory and all the rest that goes into being a painter, and also physically painting, training up the muscle memory and motor skills of putting brush to paper. Ironically, most people capable of casting said spell rarely did, because they'd rather just sit down for a couple hours and paint the lovely sunset they were appreciating. There were such spells for every art and craft, and each required lifelong dedication to said art or craft.

The single most powerful binding charm known to wizardkind was one such spell and required the user master the lasso. No, really. You had to practice wrangling bulls with a real-life lasso in order to cast it. It was one of the reasons farm-raised American Aurors were so good at their jobs. Half of the Macusa could cast it by the age of twelve. Really made his "patronus at thirteen" feat seem unimpressive in comparison.

The capacitance whip was significantly easier than any of these. It just required the muscle memory of training with a whip. In fact, Filius had taught Harry the spell by having him workout with battle ropes, which was one hell of a workout. He could cast it, but there was a difference between knowing how to cast a spell and knowing how to use a spell, and Bellatrix could actually use it.

She weaved her wand like the handle of a whip and coaxed the length of the spell to danced in a defensive manner. It caught and consumed nearly half of Arianna's barrage of chained elemental spells. He'd never seen somebody try to use the capacitance whip defensively by capturing charms, but he'd also never seen a lightning vine, ice shuriken and infernal raven spell-chain before. All three of those were transfigured charms, elemental charms transfigured into the likeness and behavior of objects or animals. Very advanced. And yet that little spell chain was sliced into pieces, literally, with a single flick of Bellatrix's wrist.

"She's using it wrong though." Harry pointed out. "It's normally meant to be hurled at or wrapped around a shield or ward to sap it and then explode when it inevitably overloads the whip with the resulting feedback and amplification. Using it to catch spells is a surefire way to have it blow up in your own face."

The two men in front of them turn around again with looks that were both inquisitive and impressed.

"That is some rather esoteric charms knowledge you have there, young man." Said the man on the left. "I don't think we've been introduced, Garrick who is your friend?"

"Ah! Mister Goyle. This is my apprentice, Harry. Well, Hadrian." Ollivander introduced.

Gregory's grandfather. He had died in Voldemort's first war in his timeline. He and Crabbe super senior, the man next to him, were the reasons both families were wealthy enough to hang out with the likes of Lucius Malfoy's. These men had built their family wealth with their own hands. Literally. Grandpa Goyle had lived beside Muggles with his first wife, a Muggle herself, as a mason. He lived without magic for years, and when he became a widower, he returned to pureblood society to inherit his late father's estate. As the sole heir he used it was to build the best magical construction company in the isles. He also still operated on the Muggle side of things.

Grandpappy Crabbe had worked on developing the first methods for safely harvesting dragon blood after Dumbledore's work with Nicholas on their twelve uses. He had left the British Isles during Voldemort's first rise to get away from all of the nonsense. Charlie had actually apprenticed directly under him, and the old man had quit dragon handling to take over care of magical creatures after Hagrid transferred to Bauexbatons to teach Care of Magical Creatures there... And to pump Olympe full of babies. Good god! And they'd all thought Molly was a baby-making machine!

"Does Hadrian have a last name?" Crabbe asked, offering a hand.

"Morrigan." Harry said, taking the hand and shaking it firmly.

"Morrigan? Any relation to..." Goyle began but broke off.

"Last heir." Harry said cheekily. "Found out recently with a Gringotts blood test. I'm still not fully read up on all the inheritance entails."

Crabbe looked at him suspiciously.

"What do you mean by that?" The dragon handler asked.

"Well, I mean I still haven't learned all of the basic pureblood etiquette, let alone what my duties and powers as a head of a noble house are. A lot of my apprenticeship with Garrick will inevitably be learning to be part of this culture that feels somewhat thrusted upon me. It's all a bit overwhelming." Harry lied through his teeth.

Hook. Line. Sinker. He had them now. He could practically hear the astonished questions in their mind. A non-pureblood actually learning the etiquette, responsibilities and culture of the society he was entering? An immigrant actually trying to integrate and give back to the society that was welcoming him to be a part of it instead of trying to abuse this newfound power and wealth to try and change it towards his foreign sensibilities? What alien creature was this?!

"You are not a pureblood I take it?" Goyle asked, reaching into his basket and pulling out two beers.

Harry and Garrick both accepted them.

"Half. Mother was Muggleborn. Ironically it was from her I apparently inherited the estate, what miniscule amount of it remains. Probably descended from a squib on the Morrigan line, but we can't trace directly to the individual, only that I am of the Morrigan line." Harry explained.
Now they knew he wasn't a Muggleborn intent on trying to make magical Britain look like the post-modernist hellscape that was Muggle Britain. Which honestly? If most Muggleborns even pretended to think this way, there would be no followers of Voldemort. Or a Voldemort, for that matter.

"Hm. Well, I hope Garrick is doing a good of teaching you by frontloading the responsibilities instead of the privileges." Crabbe said, eyeing Ollivander.

"Hmph." Garrick said, probably amused at the charade Harry had forced him into. "I've barely had time to teach him anything, but I do hope to scare him off."

"I've learned most of the important stuff." Harry said. "I'm most worried about participating in the board of Governors for Hogwarts and voting on Wizengomat issues, but I don't know the first thing about either. I'll probably have to find trustworthy proxies for both and shadow them for the next... how many hundred years will it take me?"

Grandpas Crabbe and Goyle both laughed piteously at the joke and humility. Harry did his best to smile bashfully as he finally took a drink of the beer.

He felt a bit manipulative in playing to the Pureblood hopes and concerns for Muggleborns and their participation in society. The fact he meant what he siad in spirit, if not reality, helped ease that guilt though. He absolutely did want to do a good job of performing his roles as the head of a noble house. He had as Lord Potter and as Lord Black and will do so now as Lord Morrigan. And he did love wizarding culture, faults and all, and didn't want to poison it with Muggle culture. What changes he did plan to make would be by example and good will.

"You seem pretty secretive of your maiden name." Goyle said with a snicker at his own joke. "So, I won't pry into who you were before you took of the mantle of Morrigan. But I do want to know where in the world you got that knowledge of higher charms."

"Oh! Charms was always my best subject, after defense which I always treated as applied charms class. What, with every spell I ever learned being a charm." Harry explained. "My other subjects suffered for it, but I would always spend time I was supposed to be using on Potions and history essays reading up on Charm theory. Still trying to remedy my dearth of history knowledge, especially now that I'm entering a world where such knowledge actually matters."

They both nodded at his words.

"So far as an adult I've sort of just wandered, trying every profession imaginable, searching every place imaginable for where I belonged. Only for the place I belong to fall into my lap and now I need to set roots. My twenties have kind of been a bust so far. But I have picked up a lot, especially about magic. I've really just focused on what I am good at, charms, but I've never bothered pursuing a masters."

"Few true masters do." Goyle hummed. "Mastery often comes from passion, not dull academics. There are masters hidden in plain sight all over the world who just never pursued their craft academically. I've met grocers who could out-transfigure McGonagall and fisherman who could outcharm Flitwick."

Oooh! Harry needed to write that down.

"That does seem to be how it goes." Garrick hummed.

"What are your best and worst charms? I want to get a feel for you." Crabbe asked.

"Best? Patronus, by a mile. Worst? Cheering charm. I can still barely pull it off after all these years." Harry explained. "I think I just have a block, revulsion towards trying to influence other people's feelings. Same reason I'm so pants and the mind arts."

He probably shouldn't have shared that last bit. If word gets out that he is terrible at the mind arts people might opt to try and use them against him. But it was a good red herring because he didn't say which mind arts he was awful at. Legilimancy? Terrible. Occlumency? Excellent. Let them come.

"We all have that one spell or area that we can never get the hang of from first and second year." Crabbe consoled. "For me it was the flame freezing charm. I still can't pull it off."

Harry stared at grandpa Crabbe. One of the most experienced dragon handlers on the planet can't use the flame freezing charm? Harry refused to believe that. Surely he was joking. Right?

Kaboom!

"Aaaand that would be Bellatrix's broken wand backfiring while channeling an overcharged capacitance whip." Harry said cheekily.

They all turned back to the nearest dueling square to see the damage done, and it was honestly underwhelming. Just a gash in the earth in the middle of the square and two duelists flat on their asses. Both were slowly picking themselves back up, but Harry could tell Bellatrix had been knocked out of the ring and lost as a result. Arabella's daughter was still inside of it.

"Well, at least neither of them died from that bit of stupidity." Garrick sighed in relief. Then Harry's words registered. "Wait, did you say broken wand?!"

"Yessir." Harry said. "She has a blockage in it. She brought it in yesterday and I got her a spare. I warned her against using it and yet here she is using it in a duel. Now all I need to do is find a way to get down there and kick her ass without anybody seeing." Harry said only half-jokingly. "Using an advanced charm you don't understand with a wand I specifically warned her not to use warrants an ass-whooping."

"I didn't take you for the type of man to hit a lady." Grandpa Crabbe said with a raised eyebrow.

He was half-joking, but Harry knew full well how Purebloods viewed a man who would raise his hand to a woman.

"I'm not. But she at least needs to be yelled at for a solid five minutes. Even if I'm not willing to actually put my hands on her." Harry said.

"Don't worry. Cygnus has no issues giving her the thrashing even with her no longer being a child." Crabbe said. "And when I tell him what his daughter got up to today, he will be putting his belt to good use. Of that you can be sure."

Cygnus Black the third was still alive?! For a world ravaged by an extra decade and a half of war with Voldemort, is sure was lacking in dead people.

"Ah, children. They seem to believe that once they leave the house, they are exempt from corporal punishment. I only had to remind my eldest son of the taste of my belt once. It is a rather humbling experience for a thirty-five-year-old." Goyle reminisced before finishing his beer.
Corporal punishment was one of those things Harry would be trying to change. But he did have more important things to worry about now. He'd already exposed himself to the pureblood world as an open-minded and respectful interloper. And that was a good start to opening avenues of peaceful resolutions to the conflicts that ailed wizarding Britain. And that, above all else, was what he wanted.

---

Notes:​

As you probably could tell, the completely new chapters will be title with the keyword NEW at the beginning and the mostly old ones with OLD. this way returning readers, who are rightly pissed at me, know where to start and what to skip. Though the ones titled old will still have some changes, even additions, they will mostly be having things removed that just didn't work. My fanficitons now serve as my portfolio and it needs to be cleaned up. I'm sorry.

As for this chapter, I really want to focus on the themes of how interconnected wizarding society is, along with how deep and unifying magic in the Harry Potter universe is. Everybody knows everybody. Friendships, rivalries and romances spanning generations are remembered and carved into all of their beings. There is a lot of love and respect between the people of the wizarding world, even between the sides of the war and bitter enemies.

I am already in love with grandpappy Crabbe and Grandpappy Goyle and I just made them up for this chapter. It opens so many avenues for focusing on the major themes of this story that I kind of lost track of in the original version.

But I've also put into polite words the real conflict of Voldemort's wars. It is an age-old conflict. A foreign population being welcomed into a nation and refusing to integrate, trying to change the host society to suit them as if they were invaders instead of guests. Believe me, I'm Jewish. I know this story VERY well and how badly it can end. It won't end like that in this story. This story will have a happy ending and beautiful journey towards it. A journey of concessions and showing empathy to people you disagree with instead of calling them Nazi and Fascist(completely different things) despite not knowing what either even is. These are concepts and ideals I think plenty of people these days need to try and internalize if humanity wants to continue... you know, existing.

---

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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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​

 

[Jao]

You need to go over the chapters. A lot of spelling mistakes. Only bothering with correcting this one.

Bauexbatons to teach Care of Magical

Click to shrink...

Beauxbatons*

 

[NonsensicalRants]

You need to go over the chapters. A lot of spelling mistakes. Only bothering with correcting this one.



Beauxbatons*

Click to shrink...

Sigh. Yeah, that's one I keep missing.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 32:

A Hogwarts Emergency​

---

Harry stepped out of the phone booth and into the main lobby of the Ministry of Magic. His newly won chest pin declared his purpose there to be "Prospecting." That cool, female voice in all of the ministry's facilities was one fun gal. Great sense of humor for a robot. He didn't understand why more people didn't come in through the visitor's entrance.

Instead, the many public sectors workers were rushing in and out of the fireplaces lining the wall, as usual. Bureaucrats. Always in a hurry, never getting anything done.

Harry marched past the tacky fountain and towards the check-in station with the shortest line and waited. Then waited. Then waited some more.

"Next." The man at the stand ordered.

Harry finally reached him and proffered his wand. He took it and placed it on the now familiar scale, which then produced a slip of parchment on the unused half.

"Professor Hadrian Morrigan?" The Auror confirmed.

"Yessir." Harry said politely.

"Premonition report?" He clarified further.

"Right again." Harry said.

"Department of Mysteris, level nine. Next!" The Auror commanded, handing Harry back his wand and the slip of paper.

Harry got out of the way and advanced through the turnstile and meandered through the crowd towards the lifts. Arriving in time to squeeze in, he packed himself into the sardine can with barely enough room left for the cage to close behind him. And down they went, stopping at each level to deposit and uptake more people. Unfortunately for most of the people there, the elevator had to go down one level before coming back up, as it was all automated. Which begged the question as to why they would bother to get on before it started to come back up, but these were wizards and witches after all.

And so, down one level they went before the bell dinged and the cool female voice announced their arrival.

"Level 9: Department of Mysteries and Courtrooms." She said.

Harry got off. The slick, familiar black walls greeted him like old friends as the lift went back up, leaving him alone in the hall. He took a deep breath, enjoying the musty yet somehow clean smell of the less often walked hallway. Then he marched straight on towards the door that once haunted so many of his dreams. Reaching it, he raised a fist to bang on it, only for it to open before he could.

Who should be facing but Prophecy herself. Head of the exact department he was looking for. Now wasn't that an amazing coincidence?! Almost as if she knew he was coming, but that would be ridiculous. That would require her to have precognitive abilities or something.
"Good evening Mr Potter." Prophecy greeted in a silly attempt at intimidation.

"Good evening Mrs Polkiss." Harry greeted back.

He felt her death glare and confusion from beneath her obscuring cloak just as clearly without Ghillie Dhu as if he were actually using the sixth sense. His poker face had gotten really good over the years, and he was somehow managing to maintain it in that moment.
"How... In the world?!" She asked.

Harry lifted both hands to his face and made spirit fingers.

"Psychic!" He whispered, dropping his poker face to grin at her.

The truth? He had figured it out in his own world. Hers was the only identity he ever uncovered, and then only because she suddenly appeared in Piers life as a retiree a day after Prophecy retired from the department. It was kind of her fault for telling him she just retired the day before as Mrs Polkiss and he just deduced it then. And now she accidentally admitted to it. He really ought to have picked on his world's version more, but after what Piers had gone through he left her in peace.

She sighed and reached one hand beneath her obscuring hood to pinch the bridge of her nose.

"Why are you here, "Hadrian"?" She asked annoyedly.

"A student turned in a post cognitive dream and I would like to register it with your office." Harry said, now serious.

He handed her the letter and twine bound vial and she took it skeptically.

"Under what basis do you think it genuine?" She asked.

"A subject in the dream spoke perfect parseltongue, which the child in question could not." Harry explained. "Nor could he have faked it."

"I see." She said.

Prophecy then produced from within her cloak a clipboard with a form for dream visions.

"Name of dreamer, date on which the dream occurred, yada yada." She asked boredly with quill suddenly in hand.

"All detailed in the letter around the vial." Harry said.

She sighed, but diligently undid the twine and opened the letter. The way she managed to do this with a clipboard in one hand and quill in the other spoke to her many years doing office work. With all these things still in her hands - quill, clipboard, vial and letter - she then managed to hold a wand and tap the letter, casting a series of silent word duplication charms to copy all of the details onto her form. Pocketing everything except for the clipboard and quill she signed the dotted line and tore the page out to hand to him.

"Here. This form recognizes that I received the dream and the details you've shared with me. You will get a letter detailing our decision on its veracity by owl." She said curtly. "Did you need anything else, Professor?"

"No. Did you?" He offered.

"No." She said, before closing the door in his face.

"Give my love to Piers!" Harry yelled through the door, knowing it would annoy the woman to be left wondering how Harry knew her son.

Chuckling to himself, Harry folded the confirmation slip before pocketing it then went on his way.

---

The next morning saw Harry sleepily hiking through the castle to Albus's office, pensieve in hand. He made a wrong turn on the fourth floor and had to turn back, barely dodging peeves riding a flying wardrobe like a surfboard through the halls. He ignored the poor Ravenclaw boy chasing after the poltergeist. Presumably, he was the owner of said wardrobe. It could provide for a good learning experience in terms of the utility of sticking charms.

He finally arrived at the gargoyle to find it standing aside and the spiral staircase fully raised. He climbed it to hear the yelling match in progress.

"I only took this job because it was part time and didn't take away from my other responsibilities. I can do quidditch, flying lessons and game nights, but I can't run fencing, javelin or riding clubs as well!" Hooch explained.

"But you did agree to the possibility of taking on such responsibilities when you signed up." Albus pointed out. "And I have no choice but to hold you to them for the rest of the term, as I cannot hire two new people with the term just started. We already did all of our hiring and used up the allotted funds for the task."

"Then it may be wise for the rest of us to try and pick up the slack." Harry interrupted as he walked inside. "I, for one, am an excellent flyer and love Quidditch. I can handle those responsibilities. Beyond that? I'm sure Filius can handle fencing and Severus throwing weapons."
He put down the pensieve in it's normal, ornate cabinet.

"What makes you think Severus has any talent or skill with throwing weapons?" Albus asked.

"Psychic!" Harry whispered while making spirit fingers.

Albus and Hooch both groaned.

"Anyways, here's your pensive back. Now that one of my students had their first dream vision, I don't need to hang onto it. Future students can wait for your availability." Harry explained. "I figured you'd enjoy pensieve walking through the visions of distant pasts or futures."
"That does sound delightful. But back to the issue at hand, I do nor foresee Filius or Severus having the free time to take up lead roles in clubs. Those who can, certainly don't have the skill or talent in them. And while the ghosts go a long way towards ameliorating that, clubs do require a staff member with a wand there to supervise and intervene for injuries or prevent them. And such workers must be approved by the board of governors."

"Hm. then it sounds like it's time for me to take up my seat and call an emergency meeting of the governors." Harry said. "I'm positive that we can get the funding for three or four new wands on deck."

"What makes you so certain of that?" Albus asked.

"Because I can afford the expense out of pocket, if need be. But once many of them hear about their children's sudden interest in these ancient arts, they'll be all over it."

"And where are you going to find people with the free time to run school clubs?" Hooch asked.

"Gee, if only we knew somebody who ran a sanctuary for disenfranchised and unemployed individuals from a wide range of backgrounds to recruit from and network through!" Harry said sardonically. "Why, he could simply write to all of them with offers and they'd jump right on it, wouldn't they?"

The twinkling returned to Dumbledore's eyes in that moment. This pleased Harry greatly.

---

Tofty's home was a small cottage in the English countryside. It had a classic thatched roof, easy and cheap to maintain for a witch but a nightmare for muggles, and a tomato garden along the path that was dying from the coming winter.

The front door was already open for them when they arrived and the chatter of old women was already wafting out of it.

"Just what I like to do on my weekends." Marchbanks complained. "Spending time with coworkers."

"Oh come on! You have some pretty great coworkers." Harry consoled.

"You have better ones, yet I don't see you having breakfast at their houses." Marchbanks countered.

"True, but unlike you I haven't been on sick leave long enough to miss them." Harry double countered.

"That's fair. Let's go see the naggers." Marchbanks decided.

They marched through the front door and were greeted by Professor Tofty herself, who stood in the doorway to the left of the entrance hall looking into the living room.

"They're finally here! Good timing, the ginger snaps just came out of the oven." She greeted.

And like that the trip was already made worthwhile.

They sat on the white, flowery furniture and Harry was promptly introduced to their coworkers. Mafalda Hopkirk, he knew, but the other three were new to him. There was Tofty's undersecretary, Felicity, Mafalada's undersecretary, Hana, and an accountant for the testing department named Zoe. The last of whom poured the two men cups of tea just as Tofty returned with a platter of steaming hot ginger snaps.

"So, Professor Morrigan. I would like to cordially welcome you to the world of being an educator. How has it been treating you thus far?" Tofty began.

"Oh! Excellently. My students have all been a joy, and so far I've only had to give two detentions, both at the same time for fighting. The coworkers keep me on my toes. I sure do love being the least wizened and intelligent person in a room, lets me feel like a student again. Speaking of!" harry explained before motioning to the people in the room.

He then let them take the floor as he finally reached for the platter of ginger snaps. Before they could begin a knock came at the door and in walked the last person Harry wanted to spend his Saturday morning with. The only pleasant thing about her appearance was the box of danishes she carried inside. Though he had to admit, orange was a better color on her than vibrant pink and the genuine smile she wore was a marked improvement over the smugness he remembered her for.

"Morning young ladies!" Umbridge greeted as she put the box down next to the ginger snaps.

"Morning Dolores!" The not so young ladies greeted.

"Oh my, Alastor is here? And who is this?" Dolores greeted the men present, noticing Harry mid gingersnap.

He swallowed and took a sip of the tea to wash it down.

"Hadrian Morrigan, at your service." harry greeted as politely as he could.

Play nice. Just like with Bellatrix she's not your Umbridge.

"Oh!" Umbridge cried out and joy absolutely bloomed on her face. "Professor, Hadrian Morrigan?"

Harry nodded at the clarification.

"I am so indescribably pleased to meet you! Divination was my favorite class as a girl, and it was maddening seeing it fall from the heights Professor Shunpike had raised it to the lows that Trelawney took it. By all accounts I've heard you are doing a wonderful job. Thank you." Dolores said whole heartedly.

She offered a hand and Harry took it, though he was unable to hide the look of whiplash on his face as the heartfelt speech.

Although a piece of a puzzle he had never thought of that was the Dolores Umbridge just fell into place. She had completely right to sack Professor Trelawney in his world. That woman was only kept on staff because Dumbledore needed to protect her from Voldemort, not because she was the best teacher for the job. Which was a flagrant disregard for his responsibilities as headmaster. Still, she didn't have to show such animosity and cruelty in the manner of which she sacked Sybil. But he could understand it.

After all, if he had been given seven years under professor Lupin only for Lockheart to replace him for the next generation he'd feel pretty hateful of that grinning goon as well. Moreso than he already was, at least.

"So, what are we talking about?" Dolores asked, sitting down and being handed a cup of tea by Zoe.

"Work. Alastor already discussed how much he loves his new job. Why don't you share next?" Mafalda offered.

"Oh, well I'm a secretary for the department of games and sports." Dolores explained.

"Really? What sports do you play or follow?" Harry asked.

"Pfft! Hah! Do any of us really seem the sporting type?" Dolores asked. "No, I have no love or even understanding of quidditch, or dueling. But, all of the people at the ministry who do have no love or understanding of properly filling out documents and financial forms. That's where I come in. Cleaning up after the boys."

"And they are such boys about it." Felicity complained.

As their discussion descended into complaining how the men of the sports department never seem to grow up, Harry withdrew a stack of blank parchments and his wand, along with two documents. One was his handwritten invitation detailing the club positions that needed filling and the other was the list of werewolves who stayed at the shack last week and the guests they brought. HE spent the rest of the chat using the copy and paste spell for the names and again for the letter.

"What're you working on there?" Hana asked.

"Eh, Hogwarts needs some extra staff due to the explosion of club activities. Part time. So, I'm sending out letters to pretty much everyone I know asking if they or anybody they know can monitor fencing ,javelining, boating and other clubs. I don't suppose any of you can or know somebody who can fill these positions?" Harry explained.

"Did you miss the part where Dolores said none of us are the sporting type?" Tofty asked. "That and nobody we know has the free time.

"My medical leave ends in another week, then I'll be too busy." Marchbanks refused. "Otherwise, I could probably handle some of the non-physical clubs, like chess and Gobstones."

Well, it was worth a shot. There was only one last place to ask around before calling a meeting with the governors.

Harry stormed into the shrieking shack.

"Oi! Wheezes!" He called out.

"Yeah!" Said Katie from the first floor.

"What is it?!" Fred called down from the second.

They both stumbled into the parlor, Katie sooner than Fred. He waited for them both to be in front of him. It was still early on a saturday morning so there weren't any customers yet, they'd start appearing around noon.

HE handed them the list of positions.

"You guys know anybody who can work part time at Hogwarts running these clubs?" He asked.

They took a moment to look it over and slowly shook their heads all the while.

"I got nothing on these, sorry." Fred said.

"Well what about your brother?" Katie asked.

Fredd gave her a look.

"Bill." She clarified.

"Bill? What about him" Fred asked, rechecking the list and seemingly trying to remember if Bill had ever picked up any of them.

"Well, isn't he chasing that French bird? The fencing duelist? Maybe he could put in a word with her?" Katie asked. "Have her teach swordplay."

"Oh, you mean Fleur?!" Harry asked. "I don't know why I didn't think of her. I'll write her directly. I imagine she'd love teaching at Hogwarts."

It would at least be amusing to see her suffer the Scottish winter for the first time again, not to mention how the students would act around the part-Veela. Bill would be the tipping factor though, as he knew she couldn't resist the chance to be in appirating distance from him and his family.

Was he breaking his own rules against using his knowledge from his world as a basis for decisions? Yeah, but sometimes it was just too delicious not to.

But then something occurred to him.

He was already invited Poliakoff and, by extension, Viktor. Now he had invited Fleur. That left out one person with the same connection to him as those two, a connection only he knew of but was a powerful one all the same.

And so, he took out his final sheet of paper and titled it to the fourth champion from his universe. God, he couldn't wait to see Cedric again.

---

Somewhere off the coast of Australia:​

Voldemort fell into an exhausted, disoriented and agonized heap on the wooden deck of the boat as the boot he used as a portkey flew aside. It was the single longest portkey he had ever taken, and it had been a mistake. A portkey straight from the Germany to Australia would have been bad enough, but that he had to program it to take circuitous routes around the Netherlands, Russia and Indian Ocean.

Five minutes. Five whole minutes. He thought he could handle it. He had been wrong.

"My lord!" Walburga Black's voice called out to him.

The sound of each of her footsteps against the hardwood ship deck felt like a sledgehammer to his skull, and when she tried to cradle him into a sitting position it felt like he was rising the portkey all over again.

"You ever been hungover, concussed and suffering from a category five flu after running a five k marathon?" Tom asked in his best attempt at humor. "That's what this feels like."

"My god, how many Portkeys did you take?" She asked, genuine concern dripping from her voice.

"Just the one." He groaned out.

She was silent for a few moments after that, and when she spoke again it was with a considerate whisper.

"A single portkey? From Germany to Australia? In one go?" She clarified.

"Yup." he said.

Another moment of silence.

"Where in the world did you get a portkey capable of going ten thousand miles in one trip?' She asked.

"Oh you know..." Tom said in his best imitation of humble. "I made it."

"How?"

"With about twenty pages of algebraic topology." He explained.

Yup. He'd had to graph out the Portkey's route using a three-dimensional model of the earth, a highly detailed one Lucius kept in his mansion observatory, to plan that one out. Plotting functions to weave around the ward lines separating each country and keeping along international waters where no such wards existed had taken the better part of two nights. If he had just taken a straight route from Germany to here he would have made it in half the time with half the pain, but every single nation along the route he passed through would have detected his passing and plotted out his exact course and final destination.

Yeah, they would have had the armies of at least fie wizarding nations shoved up their asses so fast it would have been the end of Voldemort forever.

"Is the object I left in your care still protected?" He asked, still barely conscious but getting better by the minute.

"Of course, Tom. It is exactly where you left it. It's protections unmolested." She told him.

"That's great." He said, trying to prop himself up but failing miserably.

Then, all of a sudden, Walburga did the unthinkable. She side-along apparated him, and he knew nothing more.

---

Before you complain I'm being too nice to Umbridge, she dies brutally in my other story "Blood-Soaked Succession." This story is supposed to be nice and fair to all characters and show the wizarding world as a more wholesome and interconnected place, even for characters as atrocious as Umbridge.

Oh shit! What about Rita? Hmmmm. Not sure what I'll do with her.

---

Want your Story Written?
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.

Prices subject to change in the future. Check my profile.

Become a Patron:
NonsensicalRants
You can also still become a patron for ONE DOLLAR to get access to future chapters 2 weeks early and vote on which stories I update Next. I have higher tiers, but I have no idea what to offer for them now that I lowered everything to one dollar.​

 

[Kuroji]

Before you complain I'm being too nice to Umbridge, she dies brutally in my other story "Blood-Soaked Succession." This story is supposed to be nice and fair to all characters and show the wizarding world as a more wholesome and interconnected place, even for characters as atrocious as Umbridge.

Click to shrink...

Actually, seeing her without her head being firmly lodged up Fudge's backside for once is a refreshing change.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Actually, seeing her without her head being firmly lodged up Fudge's backside for once is a refreshing change.

Click to shrink...

After writing this chapter, I've softened my views on Umbridge

She was a villain of circumstance really. She is the epitome of the atrocious, insufferable, HR cunt... Corporate America and high office deserve to suffer such people, because they CAN do a great job in that capacity. But as a teacher? Dear god, she had no business being assigned that job. Leading to a clearcut psychotic break. She did not have the temperament to teach, which is something i can relate to, and suffered as much as she made others suffer. Strangely, she was not the bigot she was painted as. She didn't target Filius or Hagrid, the half-breeds. She targetid Trelawney. The second crappiest teacher in all of Hogwarts history.

Of course, her real job was to root out the rebellion they thought Dumbledore was brewing. In that capacity, everything she did was pretty reasonable, and logical. Of course, their premise was wrong. Good people working from an incorrect premise are far more dangerous than evil people working from a correct one. Harry Potter was not a danger to himself and others(which they can be forgiven for believing) and Voldemort was returned.

And I never held her responsible for her role in Deathly Hollows. She was literally possessed by Voldemort during all of that, just like ginny was during her multiple attempted murders, animal torturing and such. She doesn't deserve prison, but she desperately needs a lot of therapy and plenty of financial consequences. And an award for sacking Sybil.

So yeah, I still hate her on a personal level. There are people with her personality and I hate them, but they aren't evil. Just easy to hate.

 

[Epitome of Eccentricity]

Oh shit, did she just accidently the dark lord?

... Why do I have deja vu?

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Oh shit, did she just accidently the dark lord?

... Why do I have deja vu?

Click to shrink...

Did you miss the announcement of the rewrite? That's what I've been doing these last few months.

 

[Epitome of Eccentricity]

Did you miss the announcement of the rewrite? That's what I've been doing these last few months.

Click to shrink...

No I made the exact same comment on this chapter the first time lol. I just reread it all

 

[NonsensicalRants]

No I made the exact same comment on this chapter the first time lol. I just reread it all

Click to shrink...

I know. I caught the joke. I respond to sarcasm with sarcasm. You should know that by now.

Also, really? Reread the entire thing? Damn dude. I spent an entire day editing the threads here and it left me exhausted. It stuns me to learn to read it again so quickly. With fans like you, who needs patrons?

 

[The_White_Light]

Just saw your update on FFN, and I'm not surprised you've given up on it. Even with toggling the email notification settings off/on, this past week+ I haven't gotten a single alert, plus the app has been buggy as all hell recently too. Stories that should be "fresh" show as updated months ago until you actually view them, or the opposite where a story has an update but trying to view it goes to old chapters. One that I've been following says there's 70 chapters, I'm stuck on 65/65.

Anyway, watching on here now. At least email notifications were fixed recently!

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Just saw your update on FFN, and I'm not surprised you've given up on it. Even with toggling the email notification settings off/on, this past week+ I haven't gotten a single alert, plus the app has been buggy as all hell recently too. Stories that should be "fresh" show as updated months ago until you actually view them, or the opposite where a story has an update but trying to view it goes to old chapters. One that I've been following says there's 70 chapters, I'm stuck on 65/65.

Anyway, watching on here now. At least email notifications were fixed recently!

Click to shrink...

Hell yeah brother! Welcome aboard. This website is actually pretty great. Really insightful discussions. In fact, scroll up a bit to see us talk about Dolores Umbridge in a new light. Community here is great, and is hopefully better for you being in it.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 33:

Title Suggestions are welcome. I got nothing on this one.​

---

Bellatrix dropped onto her stomach to dodge beneath a white crescent shape that the dummy had just flung at her.

When she had invited Harry to join her for her duelist training he had expected to be taking part in it, but instead the entire ordeal was her simply showing off her world to him. She started off with dodging drills. The exercises required her to do them without a wand, with her goal being to charge all the way to the dummy enchanted to send illusory beams of light to indicate different types of spells, such as the large bludgeoning curse she just sidestepped.

He was pleasantly surprised to discover she did, in fact, train in classic gym clothes in place of dueling robes. The twenties style shorts and tank top were less form fitting than what a modern woman could get away with, but she wasn't a modern woman, and he wouldn't have her any other way.

She finished her training with a flourish, somehow wiggling through a spray of firework sparks as if she were trying to squeeze through a pair of prison bars to then slap the dummy on the top of its head. It slouched like a robot being shut down and the practice was over.
Harry applauded and she curtsied before coming up to where he sat in the bleachers next to fresh towels and a water bottle.

She toweled herself off while catching her breath before taking a drink.

"Next is deflecting practice." She told him between gulps. "The dummy's fake spells are enchanted to be dispelled by the same counter curses as the real deal and be caught or batted away with the same movements. It's a little finnicky and requires more precision than the real thing, but that actually helps."

Harry nodded.

"A mistake in the manufacturing leading to making it superior in the end? Gotta love happy little accidents like that." He pointed out.

She giggled at his humor, but if she did so because she recognized the reference or because quoting Bob Ross is a slam dunk even to the uninitiated, he couldn't quite tell.

She walked back out to the pit and stood in front of her dummy, this time with wand in hand. Said dummy stood back up and began firing the imitation spells at her, and this time she blocked, deflected or caught each spell as they came. It was like a dance, or moreso like the baton twirler at the front of marching band with a smidgeon of ribbon dancing thrown in.

There was a knock at the door and Bellatrix stopped.

"Aspidochelone." She said.

The dummy also stopped throwing the harmless spells at her. Interesting choice of safe word. Way too many syllables and way too easy to mispronounce.

It also appeared to be the word to unlock the door into the training room based on the loud click it made.

"You may come in." Bellatrix called.

In walked Victor Krum and his werewolf friend, Poliakoff.

"Well, you two sure react to correspondence quickly." Harry said. "But how did you know to find me here?"

"Ve vent to your sanctuary but you vere not there. Your red-haired friend said I could find you here, Professor Morrigan." Victor explained by way of greeting.

"Bellatrix, meet Victor Krum and Halasz Poliakoff. Both were guests during the last full moon." Harry introduced.

Bella curtsied again and both gentleman bowed.

"I wrote to them, and others, yesterday when Albus brought to my attention that the school was short staffed. We need part timers to handle the sudden burst in new clubs. I wrote to everybody I could asking if they knew anybody." Harry explained. "And I can't imagine they made the trip all the way out here just to refuse."

"You vould be correct, professor. If you will have me I vould be delighted to take over the responsibilities for both the wrestling and boxing clubs." Viktor said.

"And I am a chess master." Poliakoff told him. "I can handle that and most other game clubs."

Harry turned to Bella.

"Well, that relieves madame hooch of a lot of her responsibilities. Three or four more applicants and we should be copacetic." He told her.

The door opened again, and Harry didn't even have to turn around to see who it was. The look of unadulterated and unreasonable hatred on Bellatrix's face told him all to well. It was the natural reaction women, even gorgeous ones like Bella, had to Veela entering their presence. Down girl, you need not be jealous of this one.

"Deed zomebody request a fencing and dance instructor?" The thick French accent of Fleur Delacour greeted the room.

Oh right, he forgot that that some of the girls organized for a dancing club too. They were still scrambling to find any boys willing to join and had resorted to bullying the shy ones, like little Xeno and Creevey, into signing up. With Fleur at the helm, he imagined they'd suddenly find it less difficult to find volunteers.

---

Voldemort woke up in chains.

This was not, despite what some people may think, a novel experience for him. You don't spend decades freedom fighting with small groups around the world without being captured from time to time. Now, being chained up by a longtime friend and ally? Very novel. At least when it lacked the kinkiness that this situation deserved. But for the life of him he couldn't guess what he'd done to enrage this Lady of House Black, but he was fast realizing he just had that effect on them.

"Good morning Tom. All recovered from your portkey?" Walburga asked sweetly.

Yup. She was pissed. Was she on team Morrigan too? How the hell would that have happened?

"You must know how your recent actions look." She went on. "Killing the only other remaining Knights and leaving such a message for the media to find."

She picked up a newspaper and threw it at his feet. He couldn't quite read the title from his chained position but he assumed it detailed the nice eulogy he had given Fenrir. Yada yada disease destroyed is mind, yada yada werewolves would not be utilized in the war any longer, yada yada werewolves need help not war, yada yada the Morrigan werewolf sanctuary does good work. He wondered if Hadrian had gotten word of it yet. He sure would like to see/hear his reaction.

"And now here you are, destroying your anchors to immortality." Walburga said. "Have you abandoned your mission, or have you simply forgotten it and given up?"

Tom sighed, allowing himself to show his tiredness.

"I have done neither, Walburga." He said. "I have merely failed it, as have we all."

She punched him then. It was an impressive jab, just as impressive as Bella's and Narcissa's. Now all he had to do was cross paths with an irate Andromeda and he'd have earned a shiner from each woman of house Black yet living... then again, there was little Nymphadora who wasn't so little anymore. Hmmm. And Sirius was courting that duelist. Perchance he had three more black eyes waiting for him in the future.

"You failed? How can you fail when you have all of eternity to accomplish your mission." Walburga the Chatty continued. "You who conquered death, and yet are now set on unconquering it."

"Your eternal guardian, I know." Tom said. "Like Salazar's basilisk at Hogwarts, ready to be unleashed on any army foolish enough to siege Hogwarts, I was to protect the sacred bloodlines and be your most powerful defender, when needed."

"So you DO remember." She said. "You achieved half of it, to find the secrets of immortality and lead us to a world without death. So why are you undoing that success?"

"Because it was my success in that that led me to failing my other task." Tom declared. "I have failed to protect them. They are all dead."

She sighed exasperatedly.

"Yes Tom, people die." She said in a mocking tone. "But they all lived long lives in pursuit of worthy goals. Did they not?"

Tom laughed, his normal mirthless laugh.

"Long lives? Fenrir was the longest lasting after me and he was in his seventies!" Tom roared. "Remind me again, what's the average wizard lifespan?"

She shrinked away at his tone, and blinked at his question.

"That's right, one hundred and sixty, with a quarter of us living longer than that. None of them made it halfway, and you think this a mere coincidence?" He demanded.

"Don't give me that tripe! You're undoing your immortality because you are tired of living, tired of fighting." She demanded. "Don't take me for a fool, I've seen it before. Men who make war lose themselves in it and cannot go on living. You sit there serenading me with your woes and regrets of our friends and lovers passing on before their time and yet opt to follow in their footsteps like a coward! They died fighting! They died in service to something they believed in, which I know, is a foreign concept to a wretch like you who thinks the length of ones life determines its value."

Ouch! Now that one stung. Leave it to Walburga to plunge the knife exactly where it hurt the most. He must have shown how much he felt it, because she sighed and switched tactics.

"You are hurting, Tom. I get that." She said. "But what I don't get is why you didn't come to one of us with that hurt? We are your friends. That's what we are for. They all love you. I still love you. Hell, Orion still loves you. You have all the time in the world, why throw it away?"

That last name was a sore topic, and Tom knew she hadn't meant it as a barb, but it still felt like one. He let it go. She must have realized the faux pas, because she knelt down and placed a hand on his cheek.

"Do you truly believe our tactics had nothing to do with their early deaths?" Tom asked, looking up but still leaning into her touch. "We have been going about things the wrong way, our tactics have been reprehensible. And my Horcruxes were the wrong path to immortality. Like you said, I have all the time in the world. Even with a mortal life I have another century to find a better way to extend human life, to conquer death. But the Horcruxes must go."

She removed her hand from his cheek and backed away from him.

"I don't believe you Tom, your handsome good looks alone aren't enough to make me believe your words alone. I'm not a little girl anymore." She said. "I want your word. You've never broken that, and I know you won't start now. I want your word that if I help you regain your mortality, you won't seek death. I want your word that you won't die before me, at the very least. And I remind you, us witches live longer than you dumb, irresponsible wizards."

He snorted at the boast. He knew he couldn't lie to her; he knew that if he gave that promise he would have to keep it, and it was a painful promise to make. On a fundamental level she was right, he was tired. He was very nearly ready to go on. Could duty and his word keep him going? Yes. Would it be orders of magnitude more torturous than his life thus far? Also, yes.

And yet, his mission must be carried out.

"You have my word, Walburga. I will live to sit on your bedside as you're withered and ugly and your great grandchildren mourn you." He promised.

She swiped him over the back of his head for the lip there, but his shackles fell as she did so.

"Very well, Tom. Let us go visit the Rainbow Serpent, shall we?" Walburga said.

---

"I somehow always forget that the seasons are flipped down here." Voldemort complained as he shivered from the frigid breeze.

"Are you a wizard, or aren't you?" Walburga teased.

"Well, I would cast a warming charm on myself, but warming charms always feel better when a lady casts it on you for some reason." He said. "Kinda like how food cooked by somebody else tastes better."

"That or maybe you're pants at cooking?" Walburga suggested. "And also, the whole not able to cast spells around here thing?"

That was a distinct possibility. Fortunately, the black, rocky ground they were half climbing along was already beginning to warm up from the afternoon sunlight. So, its preventing him from casting said warming charms was a moot point. As they crested the last hill of black granite their goal came into view.

A great Olga, surrounded by black boulders on all sides, sat in the middle of the draw formed by the rocky hills on either side. It wasn't as large as Uluru, or as decorative as Kata Tjuta but much like Uluru and Kata Tsuja it had been created by a rainbow serpent as a marking stone above the cave and water system it had dug itself in the rock below. Unlike Uluru and Kata Tsuja, it was still inhabited and was surrounded on all sides by the mysterious cursed stone of Kalkajaka. This made it a perfect place to hide something from wizards and Muggles alike.
As an active Olga still inhabited by a wild rainbow serpent, the wizarding government of Australia and aboriginal mages protected the entire area from Muggles. As a Kalkajaka it kept all but the most suicidal wizards away.

Nobody knew for certain where the black stones came from, but all enchanters and alchemists knew for sure wizards created them. The leading theory was that it was some kind of equal and opposite enchanting method. By binding two such slabs of granite, they could strengthen a positive enchantment on one by simultaneous casting a dark curse on the other.

It held up in theory and had been proven through experimentation. Problem was, none of the positive counterparts had ever been found and there was no evidence of a wizarding society large enough ever having existed in Australia. Who could have produced so many billions of these wretched stones in such piles all over the continent? These stones that made all wizards, witches and even squibs feel as if the magic in their veins had turned to wriggling worms and wanted to burst out through their chest. Merely using magic around these things could kill a wizard or witch. It also completely incapacitated any sensory abilities.

And that wasn't even the greatest of the defenses he had placed around his Horcrux.

They neared a freshwater stream and he spoke in parseltongue.

"I have returned, great mother." He spoke to the water.

They stood there and waited patiently. And waited. And waited some more. He was about to speak again when the water's surface finally exploded upwards in a deluge of water. Always the melodrama with these larger snakes.

She was even larger than he recalled, and he once again hoped he'd have the chance to introduce her to Salazar's equally large basilisk. Sure, experimental breeding was illegal, but since when did he care about illegality?

Rainbow serpents were effectively giant, white-lipped pythons. That was it. Their dark scales were iridescent, reflecting a rainbow sheen. There was also the small matter that their scales were elongated, halfway towards being feathers. They were still very much magical creatures, as their gigantism, like giants, was born of magic and their scales made for excellent wand cores. The core of his spare wand came specifically from her, actually.

There was also the small ability they have to eat stone and regurgitate it into solid masses. Hence how they carve out these tunnels and used the material to form Olga's.

"It has been too long, speaker." She said.

"Indeed, it has." Tom said.

---

"Wait, me?!" Mr Tonks asked.

"Yup. You." Harry confirmed.

"Um. Okay, I'm honored, but why me?" Ted asked, still confused.

"Yeah, why him?" Andromeda asked. "I honestly think I would make a better choice, seeing as I have more free time that my employed husband."

"Because you are the only person I know who is meets all of my requirements to stand in my place at the board of Governors." Harry said.

"And these requirements are?" Andromeda asked with a glare.

Harry listed them off on his fingers.

"Has attended and graduated from Hogwarts. Has raised a child who also attended and graduated from Hogwarts. Is knowledgeable on and invested in Muggle culture. Is knowledgeable and invested in pureblood culture. I like and trust him." Harry ticked off until he ran out of fingers. "With all of these traits, I believe you have all of the virtues necessary to make proper decisions regarding Hogwarts that is fair and beneficial to all students and teachers. In fact the only way you would make a better substitute is if you were also a former teacher at Hogwarts, but we can't have it all now can we?"

The Tonkses leaned back as they considered these points.

"So you chose me for my balanced views and experience in all sides of the Hogwarts experience?" Tonks clarified.

"All save one, correct." Harry said. "Although that can be remedied, we do have an open position for a part timer of your skills. That is, if you are open to passing on your skills as a horseback rider and college rower?"

Ted was all ears after that. God, but were people ever easy to lead into doing what you want them to do when you understand them.

"Oh, and I like the idea of all three of the men married to the Black sisters having something all our own. Kinda like their wine-fueled get-togethers." Harry added.

"Married?!" Andromeda sad with a mocking gasp as his slip up. "My goodness you work fast! And here I was under the impression that my sister was displeased with how slow you were taking things. When is the ceremony? I'll have to write mother and get her back over here from Aus."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Okay, I misspoke. I meant men who date or are married to a black sister." Harry tried to clarify, but the woman had already left her dinner table and was walking to the study.

"Too late! Writing mother and Cissy." Andromeda hollered back.

Harry shrugged and turned to Tonks.

"I'm more than sold. When is the first board meeting?" He asked.

"I'm calling an emergency one right now. Go make yourself presentable, we leave in ten."

---

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[Jao]

that relieves madame hooch of a lot

Click to shrink...

Madame Hooch*


For a title how about, "Crows, Snakes, and Badgers"

As the focus point of the first part was Morrigan, The Morrígan was known for transforming into a crow.

The focus point of the second part was Tom Riddle... This one is obvious.

And the focus point of the third part was Ted Tonks, who is a Hufflepuff I think.

 

[TheGrumpyMonk]

Thumbs up.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 34:

The Sword in the Stone​

---

​

Harry walked into the antechamber with his guests trailing behind him. Teddy took the lead with Viktor, Poliakoff and Fleur just behind.

They were the last to arrive, as the heads of every family with a seat on the board of governors was present, plus Albus and Madame Hooch.

He was pleased to realize he'd met most of the people already present in this world as well as his own. Lucius Malfoy, Mrs Zabini, Valentine Crabbe, Hidlerband Goyle and Fleamont Potter he had all met in this world already, and in Madame Bones case at least seen. Augusta Longbottom, Cyrus Greengrass, Mrs Abbot, Mrs Bullstrode, Mrs Parkinson, and of course Mrs Weasley he had also met in his own. The placards in front of everyone else told him who they were. Orion Black barely needed one, being the spitting image of his own son, and the same was true for Theodore Nott senior. The two that gave him pause was a woman whose placard declared her to be Kera Moody, who was too young to be Alastor's mother and too old to be a daughter, leaving only two possibilities and he boggled at the idea of her being his wife, but suspected it was so. The other was Aileen Prince, who also looked too young to be Snape's mother.

He needed to figure that one out later.

There were a lot of empty seats for extinct houses, among them one titled Morrigan. He and his entourage made their way to it.

"Professor Morrigan. Thank you for joining us." Albus greeted. "Seeing as you called for this emergency meeting, I give the floor to you."

"Thank you, Headmaster, but I must refuse." Harry said cheekily. "As I have brought with me the man who shall be my semi-permanent stand in. Representing the Morrigan estate, I present to you all, Theodore Tonks. Your new member of the board."
He bowed and stepped away. Theodore stepped forward and bowed to the gathered to mixed reactions. Everybody at least gave a polite applause, with Molly and Augusta being the most vocal in their approval. The only person who didn't clap was Orion.

Strangely, Lucius looked positively delighted. Harry had been joking when he said the three men dating Blacks being on the board would be ironic, now he suspected it was a stronger base for camaraderie than he suspected.

"As his stand in, Professor Morrigan will be overseeing my conduct here as a form of training, unless anybody here objects?" Theodore said.

Nobody objected. They honestly could, as having a stand in meant he technically wasn't on the board on not entitled to be part of the meetings. Usually, stand-ins were assigned to represent underage successors who were not ready to take on their duties, and there were many meetings where some might object to an underage person attending. They would have to be real assholes to object to his presence. The only scenario he could foresee with him being barred from a meeting was if said meeting was in regards to his imminent sacking, which he hoped never happened.

"Very well. I call this emergency meeting into order." Said Tonks as he sat at the Morrigan chair and spelled the placard to say his name instead. "The topic, emergency employment of part time employees under Madame Hooch."
"And why does Madame Hooch require part time employees?" Asked Augusta. "She has always been excellent about handling her duties as head of sports and games. Are you no longer able to perform them, deer?"

"My usual duties aren't causing me any trouble at all." Said Rolanda. "It is an unexpected skyrocketing in new duties that I am unequipped for. You see, the students have all decided that Hogwarts wasn't offering anywhere near enough club or sport activities. So they have formed over a dozen new ones over night."

Instead of confusion, the room filled with excited chatter from the Purebloods present.

"Have we finally re-instituted the boating clubs?" Asked Valentine.

"Fencing Club?" Asked Lucius.

"Cooking club?!" Asked Molly.

She got some strange looks for that one.

"Yes to all of the above, save for cooking." Said Rolanda. "And more."

Molly deflated and made a face like a kicked puppy, but the excitement of everyone else continued to grow.

"We've all been clamoring for a revitalization of traditional sports for decades, but our Muggleborn populace has only ever been interested in bringing over Muggle sports." Said Orion. "Which has always been too expensive, requiring new construction that would make hideous the gorgeous scenery around Hogwarts. What has changed?"

Albus took over.

"Well, it appears that the students were simply unaware that these sports were options." He said. "Despite our eagerness to revitalize said sports, it never occurred to us to actually advertise it to the student populace. We did not know they wanted it, because they did not know they wanted it."

Ah, the folly of adults. Especially adult wizards. The underestimation of children and simultaneous overestimation of them. In all his time at Hogwarts it had somehow never occurred to him that all of the many suits of armor, boats, and martial weapons were for more than decoration.

"Well, we have the facilities." Said Fleamont. "And we have great teachers in the form of ghosts and portraits. It really is just a matter of having employees on hand with a wand, that you seem to have picked individuals suited to also teach and officiate such sports is a great boon. Or am I wrong in assuming that's why you three are here?"

He said this while looking at Viktor, Fleur and Poliakoff, who all stood a bit straighter.

"Yes zir." Said Fleur. "I am a skilled fencer and duelist, and would be happy to help part time."

"I can handle wrestling, animal riding and most other martial games that Miss Delacour cannot." Said Viktor.

"And I am a chess master. Happy to help with it and all other game clubs to free up Madame Hooch for her sports." Said Poliakoff. "But I will need full moons off. I am a werewolf, if that is a deal breaker."

Everyone made the exact same motion of dismissal with their hands.

"Hardly. We have a werewolf as a teacher, and he doesn't cause any problems." Said Mr Nott.

"I would go one step further and say he is one of the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's we've had in decades." Added Hildebrand. "So your condition is no issue. I think our gobstone champions can go two to three days without a club meeting per month."

"Or somebody can easily cover for you." Said Mrs Zabini.

"Are you sure you aren't just happy to have another Veela in Britain?" Mrs Parkinson jabbed at her.

Mrs Zabini made an exasperated gesture.

"Why does everyone think I'm a Veela?" She demanded.

Fleur perked up.

"You are not Veela?" She asked, seemingly shocked. "I would have sworn you were! I've only met one Africana Veela and you outshine her!"

Mrs Bullstrode, Parkinson, Prince and Weasley all howled with laughter at that admission and Mrs Zabini glowered. Albus had to call for order with his gavel.

"Then we are all in agreement?" Albus asked. "Shall we devote funds to hiring three new staff members as part time club and sports overseers?"

"The Hogwarts treasury can more than handle it." Said Madame Bones. "I say we vote to allocate the funds, get these three their documents for signing, perform their background cheks and put them to work."

Harry tapped Theodore on the shoulder and held up four fingers.

"Four, actually." Said Theodore.

All eyes turned on him.

"Who is the fourth person you have in mind?" Asked Madame Hooch.

Harry leaned down to whisper to his representative only to be interrupted by Albus.

"Professor Morrigan, you are free to speak if you have the answers to our questions." He said.

"Ah, well, I sent out many a letter, and I don't know if he will accept, but I had the former student Cedric Diggory in mind on recommendation." He said. "That way we could have a Hogwarts alumni, and somebody with animal riding experience."
Several people nodded in agreement with his choice in person, while others seemed to consider it.

"Well then, we shall allocate enough funds for four new positions in the event he, or somebody else likewise suitable, opts to take up the role." Said Kara Moody. "Sans any further interruption, I think it is time to call for a vote."
They all waited a moment to see if any such interruption would occur, when none was forthcoming Albus brought the meeting to a close.

"Very well then. I call the board of governors to a vote. Shall we allocate funds to employ four part time game and sport officiators." Albus asked. "All in favor?"

All hands, save those of Molly, Prince and Tonks, raised.

"All against?" Said Albus.

Molly and Prince both raised their hands.

Harry knew Theodore was abstaining from the vote as it was his motion being voted on, so he was not allowed to add his choice to the mix. Conflict of interest and all that. Why Molly and Prince were opposed, he couldn't even begin to guess. Neither had voiced any objections thus far.

"Very well. The motion is passed. If there are no further orders of business…" Albus paused and looked around the room to many shaking heads. "Then today's meeting of the Board of Governors is adjourned. Good evening all."

He used his gavel one last time and everyone stood up.

"Mr Krum, Miss Delacour, Mr Poliakoff. If you would join Madame Hooch and I, we shall induct you forthwith." Albus invited Harry's three guests.

Only a few of the guests left immediately, following Albus and Hooch out the door with the new employees. Most of the rest mingled and chatted.

Harry waved to Molly motioning for her to come over and did the same with Prince. They both nodded and made their way over to him and Theodore.

"It's a pleasure to meet you ladies. As you know, I only recently came into my Lordship, and am at a loss. Hence having a substitute in Theodore here." Harry greeted and introduced.

Both of them curtsied out of respect, and it was a strange feeling seeing Molly perform the gesture.

"I suppose you wish to know why we voted no?" Prince asked.

"Moreso I want your perspective. You were the only two to do so, and I pay attention to outliers." Harry said honestly. "I want to know your reasons because I think they might actually change my mind."

"They won't." Prince told him. "Hence why I did not share. I voted no because I believe students should be spending more time studying than playing sports. A perspective nobody else here agrees with. They already spend enough time obsessed with Quidditch."

Harry blinked at her then turned to Molly.

"Well, on the topic of Quidditch, don't you think Roberta has her hands full enough dealing with injuries from that barbaric game?" Molly asked rhetorically. "Now fencing, boating, horseback riding and wrestling? Oh heavens, even if Poppy was still with us it would be a nightmare. But I know I can't convince all you boys that your rough housing needs to be toned down, so I kept my opinion to myself."

Harry and Theodore shared a look.

"I mean, she's not exactly wrong." Theodore admitted.

And Harry agreed. The DMLE Head who had approached during all of this talk did though.

"I disagree." She said grumpily as she approached. "You are out of line pinning it on the boys, as my love of rough housing and Quidditch playing and broken bones is one I would never deign to deny my niece or her peers. And if you got Augusta over here, she would agree."

"I certainly do." Said Mrs Zabini who, along with Valentine and Hildebrand had approached during all of this. "I want all the boys in Hogwarts beating the tar out of each other on the Quidditch pitch and in the fencing club. Lest they do not become the men we love, but instead coddled and soft, with none of those beautiful scars and callouses that my husband has."

Oh wow, that woman sure knew how to stroke men's ego. And make them feel appreciated as men. He hoped she and Bellatrix never became friends, or his woman might actually gain the skills to tye him around her pinky.

"Well, I'm not trying to start a fight here, I really did just want to know their perspective. As their teacher, my main focus is supposed to be their safety and their education, so I'll put some more effort into making sure injuries are avoided and study groups are maintained at least." Harry said. "And maybe try to inspire a history or potions club too?"

Prince dazzled him with a smile at that suggestion and he knew he said the right thing there. Good. Making friends. That's why he was there.

---

"I somehow always forget that the seasons are flipped down here." Voldemort complained as he shivered from the frigid breeze.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" Walburga teased.

"Well, I would cast a warming charm on myself but warming charms always feel better when a lady casts it on you for some reason." He said. "Kinda like how food cooked by somebody else tastes better."

"That or maybe you're pants at cooking?" Walburga suggested. "And also the whole not able to cast spells around here thing?"

That was a distinct possibility. Fortunately the black, rocky ground they were half climbing along was already beginning to warm up from the afternoon sunlight. So it preventing him from casting said warming charms were a moot point. And as they crested the last hill of black granite their goal came into view.

A great Olga, surrounded by black boulders on all sides, sat in the middle of the draw formed by the rocky hills on either side. It wasn't as large as Uluru, or as decorative as Kata Tjuta. Much like Uluru and Kata Tsuja, it had been created by a rainbow serpent as a marking stone above the cave and water system it had dug itself in the rock below. Unlike Uluru and Kata Tsuja, it was still inhabited and was surrounded on all sides by the mysterious cursed stone of Kalkajaka. Which made it a perfect place to hide something from wizards and Muggles alike.

As an active Olga still inhabited by a wild rainbow serpent, the wizarding government of Australia and aboriginal mages protected the entire area from Muggles. As a Kalkajaka it kept all but the most suicidal wizards away.

Nobody knew for certain where the black stones came from, but all enchanters and alchemists knew for sure wizards created them. The leading theory was that it was some kind of equal and opposite enchanting method. By binding two such slabs of granite, they could strengthen a positive enchantment on one by simultaneous casting a dark curse on the other.

It held up in theory, and had been proven through experimentation. Problem was, none of the positive counterparts had ever been found and there was evidence of a wizarding society large enough ever having existed in Australia who could have produced so many billions of these wretched stones in such piles all over the continent. These stones that made all wizards, witches and even squibs feel as if the magic in their veins had turned to wriggling worms and wanted to burst out through their chest. Merely using magic around these things could kill a wizard or witch. It also completely incapacitated any sensory abilities.

And that wasn't even the greatest of the defenses he had places around his Horcrux.

They neared a freshwater stream and he spoke in parseltongue.

"I have returned, great mother." He spoke to the water.

Then, they stood there and patiently waited. And waited. And waited some more. He was about to speak again when the water's surface finally exploded upwards in a deluge of water. Always the melodrama with the bigger snakes.

And she was even bigger than he recalled, and he once again hoped he'd have the chance to introduce her to Salazar's equally large basilisk. Sure, experimental breeding was illegal, but since when did he care about illegality?

Rainbow serpents were effectively giant white-lipped pythons. That was it. Their dark scales iridescent, reflecting a rainbow sheen. There was also the small matter that their scales were elongated, halfway to being feathers. They were still very much magical creatures, however. As their gigantism, like giants, was born of magic and their scales made for excellent wand cores. The core of his spell wand came specifically from her, actually.

There was also the small ability they have to eat stone and regurgitate it into solid masses. Hence how they carve out these tunnels and use the material to form Olga's.

"It has been too long, speaker." She said.

"Indeed, it has." Tom said.

---

The unlikely trio breached the water's surface and they were deposited on cold, hard stone.

"Thank you, beautiful." Tom said to the rainbow serpent between coughs and sputters for the long swim through her watery tunnels.

He hadn't even said it in parseltongue, but she nodded in understanding all the same.

He picked himself up off the floor and helped Walburga do the same. With that done he cast a drying charm on her then himself. Inside of the Olga they were free from the influence of the black stones and thus it was safe to do magic again. And they were now past all of the protections Tom expected anybody to be capable of getting past.

Without the ability to cast the bubble head charm outside from the black stones nobody could manage that swim unless they'd thought to bring gillyweed along. And even if they had gillyweed, they'd have to swim through the underwater tunnels and do so without getting murdered to death by his colorful friend. Still, more protections awaited.

Walburga gasped as her eyes adjusted to the giant underground snake den.

"Is it expanded?" She asked.

"Yes. By a lot." Tom said.

It was a deliberately weak expansion charm too. One designed to collapse if any of the traps are triggered.

Tom had gotten the idea from alchemy, the simplest technique of which is to compress elements into higher elements with spatial expansion charms. Take a small space, like the inside of a jar, and expand it to twice the size. Fill it to the brim with Aluminum then simply collapse the space expanding charm and the two parts of aluminum will combine into roughly one part of iron... with a WHOLE lot of radiation as a byproduct. Most early alchemists simply killed themselves from radiation poisoning with the first experiment doing this, later ones wizened up and stood away from containers used for this job but still died of radiation over time because they had no concept of radiation.

Unfortunately, the technique only worked for elements with a positive proton count, so you can't use it to create copper, silver or gold. That couldstill be done by first creating higher, trans uranium elements and letting them decay to the elements you want, which is a complicated alchemical art requiring decades of experiment and trial and error - usually using time slowing containment wards to examine these elements before they decay. That was time Voldemort simply didn't have. The primary ingredient for the sorcerer's stone is merely whatever element lies in that mysterious island of stability at the end of the possible periodic table.

It makes sense if you think about the symbology, and thus, magical applications for such a material.

It did confuse the crap out of Muggle archeologists whenever they found ancients cities or towns of people fallen dead in the streets with more background radiation than Chernobyl though. That could happen when a particularly zealous alchemist tried to transmute literal metric tons of lead into similarly large quantities of element one hundred and sixty-four. Big risk to the statute of secrecy that wizard archeologists work tirelessly to find before Muggle ones do. Such sites are then, sadly, destroyed.
The space expanding wards within this Olga were not strong enough to cause transmutation of elements, but it was designed to collapse under certain circumstances. Pop quiz! What happens to the human body when the air pressure of the closed space they're in suddenly multiplies one hundred-fold? That image in your mind right now? That's about right.

"That looks a little vulnerable, just out in the open like that." Walburga commented, pointing to the center of the wide-open space.

Tom looked to where she pointed and, sure enough, his horcrux was exactly where he had left it. Embedded into a singular black stone, imported from its many siblings outside, was the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

"That's by design. Mind your step." Tom instructed her "On second though, remain here with our lovely friend."

Tom patted the rainbow serpent before walking towards the center of the room.

He reached the edge of where the traps began and, with a wave of his wand, blew away all of the dust covering each tile. With another wave of his wand he shot a lumos orb to the ceiling illuminating the entire room. Makes it much easier to read.
"so it's password protected, but with stone tiles?" Walburga asked. "Does each one have to be activated in a passcode?"

"Right in one Walburga!" Tom said with a smirk in her direction.

"Are they double encoded to be activated by charms and curses cast on them?" Walburga asked further.

Damn. That was actually a good idea. He could have programmed them for really obscure spells too.

"Nope, just with a bit of dexterity." Tom told her before turning back around and looking for the correct letter. "Let's see here.. I!"

He spotted the ninth letter of the alphabet and hopped on over. He heard Walburga groaned from behind him.

"Next is E!" Tom said as he leapt to the next later.

"Really Tom?!" Walburga demanded.

"S! And yup. Really!" Tom concluded as he made his third leap.

"Indianna Jones?! Are you a child?!" Walburga yelled after him.

"Only at heart, love. E!" Tom told her as he finished. "And another S. What does that spell?!"

Walburga groaned again instead of answering. As she did so every crack around the lettered tiles made a soft glow before turning white. It was now safe to walk on them.

"Didn't have space or mechanical knowhow for the buzzsaws, ditto for the invisible bridge." Tom said cheekily. "It's safe to come over here now, you won't have to watch your step."

She did so, walking over to him with her arms crossed and in quite a fuss. Why must ladies begrudge men their fun?

"How did you design it to be pulled out?" Walburga asked as she stood in front of the legendary artifact. "Passphrase? Fingerprint recognition? Does it need Veela blood since Excalibur was made by them?"

"None of the above, Walburga." Tom told her. "I embedded it into the rock with a banishing charm so hard that the stone melted around it and fused to it. The only way to get it out is to outright carry the sword, rock and all, out of here. Or else somehow shatter the rock."

Walburga actually looked him up and down with an unimpressed expression at his explanation.

"You're not going to take it out of here?" She asked.

"Not today." Tom told her. "Today I just came here to touch it. I ought to be out of commission for a few hours afterwards, so be warned."

"And what? I'm just supposed to stand around here while you do that?" Walburga demanded.

"I brought snacks and a few books in the pack. Help yourself." Tom told her with a shrug. "And you can use magic over there, we can't over here. At least not safely. But I would recommend not using magic at all out of fear of triggering the space expansion charm to collapse."

It was true, so close to the cursed, black stone any spell he cast risked spiraling out of control and triggering the space expansion warn to collapse, killing them both... which would likely destroying the rock containing Gryffindor's sword. In hindsight, he probably just should have sent in a conjured animal and had them do exactly that, then just walked in and picked it up. How had he missed such a blatant hole in is defenses? They really were otherwise perfect.

If anybody had managed to deduce it was there, they would have had to get through the stone hills, swam up to thirty minutes through the underwater tunnels without the bubblehead charm or getting killed by his rainbow serpent friend, deduced that the space expansion charm was designed to collapse, then they could have easily figured out this little oversight. So, his cleverness in putting in a Muggle reference no wizard would understand would have gone unappreciated.

He was still trying to hide his surprise at Walburga having seen it herself. He refused to ask her about it.

"Alright. No time like the present. Please don't slit my throat while I'm unconscious." Tom asked jokingly.

"And be stuck in this death trap with your snake friend? Not a chance." Walburga joked back.

"Oh, and please move my body away from the stone. I don't like the prospect of waking up from a nap next to it." Tom asked further.

"Stop stalling. The sooner you drop the sooner I can leave." She demanded.

Tom shrugged and sat down on the ground just next to the stone. He took a deep breath and concentrated. He remembered the Fabian brothers, who had fought bravely and in doing so brought unto him the Sword of Gryffindor. Their deaths had been tragic enough to warrant splitting even his tattered soul by then. He had regretted killing such brilliant young men even the day of that battle over such an inconsequential safehouse.

With those thoughts firmly in mind, he pressed a single finger against the flat of the silver blade, just below the G. Then, blackness.

---

I think I need to re-edit this chapter and the last one. One to just follow Harry and his emergency meeting, one to just follow Voldemort getting to Godric's sword. Mix and match them into something more coherent.

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[Jao]

Mrs Zabimi made an exasperated

Click to shrink...

Zabini*

that then jsut walked in and picked it up.

Click to shrink...

just* also walked and picked are the wrong tense.

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Zabini*



just* also walked and picked are the wrong tense.

Click to shrink...

Thanks for the spellcheck brother. Also no, the tenses are correct.

 

[pamela1]

OK . Good

 

[NonsensicalRants]

OK . Good

Click to shrink...

Huh?

 

[NonsensicalRants]

Chapter 35:

Champions, Reunited​

---

Harry must have read the article three times now, and still couldn't make heads or tails of it. Everything about it confused him, from the subject matter, to the events it described, to the writer.

Fenrir Euthanized

By Rita Skeeter

This last Friday, a great battle took place in the Black Forests of Germany. A war between Voldemort and one of his most loyal legions, and thereby annihilated Fenrir Greyback and his entire pack.

Nnearly a hundred bodies were discovered by a Muggle hiker early Saturday morning. After Auroras obliviated said hiker and the Muggle first responders he summoned to the scene, their investigation turned up some strange facts.
The first was that every single corpse belonged to a werewolf in the service of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The second was that each had been placed under cooling and stasis charms to prevent decay.

The third, and strangest, was the epitaph conjured and carved in the center of the clearing.

It's message was as follows:
​

I would like to offer my sincere apology to wizarding society for failing my friend and servent, Fenrir Greyback. I somehow failed to notice that he and his followers had gone feral from my own neglect as much as society's persecution. I am ashamed it took a stranger starting a refuge for werewolves to make me realize this, especially as improving the lot of werewolves was one of my main goals as a leader, and a promise I had made to Fenrir in particular.

Despite our differences and being ideological enemies, I wholeheartedly promote Professor Morrigan's Werewolf Sanctuary, and advise any and all werewolves who ever considered joining my cause to remain unaffiliated, and to take advantage of the man's charity. You are no longer fit to fight a war, and never were. You are not weapons, you are patients in need of help. Go get some, for I will not wield you any longer.
Signed, Tom Marvolo Riddle(Reprinted as written for accuracy.)​

It appears that even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is not extreme enough to continue his association with Fenrir Greyback, and that the many reports of his barbaric and savage tactics are not exaggerated. So extreme were they, in fact, that his own master saw fit to put him down. He was a monster in the end, one who fed on human flesh even while under the effects of a waxing or waning moon. A monster irredeemable, except in death.

Let no more of our brothers and sisters fall to such a fate. New developments and improvements to treating werewolves come out every year, to the point that even many past factions who once promoted permanent quarantine or outright extermination of werewolves as a means of ending the disease, have changed their tune. And now with the launch of a proper sanctuary for those unable to get treatment during the full moon in Scotland, we can only hope more countries follow suit.
​

And that made four readings, yet no understanding came to Harry.

What was Voldemort playing at? Was it some kind of reverse psychology? Was he trying to associate the name of Morrigan with Voldemort and get people who oppose him to withdraw their money? Or perhaps he was hoping to overwhelm Harry through his own charity by inspiring far too many werewolves for him to handle into taking part in it? Trying to defeat him with the same peaceful, and legal, form of warfare Harry had wielded against him seemed like an effective tactic.

More bizarre was Rita Skeeter writing an honest article without any spin or outright lies. Moreso that the average journalist, that was unheard of. He wondered if Voldemort had threatened her to report it accurately under threat of torture or death, and couldn't stop himself from smiling at the prospect despite himself.

Then he caught the dark thoughts and threw them away. Honestly, after having a lovely morning hearing tea and sweets with Dolores, he was allowing himself to feel such cruel things to a woman he had never met? He had promised to throw away all of these preconceived notions based on his own world's counterparts long ago, and yet he still somehow struggled with it. He needed to be better.

There was a tapping on his window and Harry looked up to see an unfamiliar owl perched just outside.

"Oh great. I forgot the joys that came with fame." He grumbled to himself and opened the window.

Only for three owls to come in, the second and third having been perched on the ledge out of sight. He took the letters with a thanks and they flew off. He didn't recognize the names on any of the envelopes, and so he assumed they were either prospective volunteers, patients or haters. He put them aside for later all the same and withdrew an envelope and quill.

Albus,

Please forward all mail directed to me to the security office at the front, as I expect some hate mail in the coming week and the usual dangerous substances that can be shipped.

Signed, Hadrian Morrigan.​

He sealed it and Hedwig hopped over eagerly to accept it. He handed it to her and sent her out. He closed the windows and checked his watch.

It was about that time.

He locked up his classroom and private rooms, erected the sign at the top of the stairs leading to the trapdoor and secret passage saying he wasn't available, and began his long walk to the front entrance.

The younger years were either already in class or rushing them, while the older students usually had their classes starting in the afternoons, so he didn't encounter any of his own students. This saved him from distractions or time wasters that would have made him late.

He followed the path he had taken recently to the open area of rubble at the edge of the forbidden forest and there he found Madame Hooch and all of her new workers waiting for him. Sir Nicholas, The Bloody Baron, many other ghosts he couldn't name and of course his own recruits.

"Thank you for joining us, Professor Morrigan." Madame Hooch said.

He walked up to stand between Fleur and Viktor, who seemed to be giving her a wide breadth out of respect, with Poliakoff off to Viktor's right.

"Are they all caught up?" Asked Harry.

"On the paperwork, yes. But we wanted to wait for everyone to arrive before divvying up the clubs. Am I right in assuming you're willing to take over some of them?" Madame Hooch asked.

Harry shrugged.

"If they're in the mornings on weekdays, sure." He said.

"That leaves only a few, and those are the ones nobody else usually wants. Let's see here." She picked up a long scroll that presumably contained all of the club names.

"Wrestling?" She called out.

"That vould be me." Said Viktor, as the Fat Friar raised his hand.

"Fencing?" She called out.

"Mua." Said Fleur, as the Bloody Baron raised his own hand.

"Hiking club?" She called.

"Oh! That's me!" Harry said.

He was happy his students got their heads out of their asses and recognized the valley of the many trails around Hogwarts. Morning jogs on the trail to Hogsmeade and many similar tracks bordering the forbidden forest are exactly what he needed to get back into shape.

Strangely, the Gray Lady raised her hand to be a part of that.

"I already know Poliakoff is taking Chess, gobstones, poker and the like. Um…" She said as she crossed those off. "Riding and jousting clubs?"

"I'll take it." Came a new voice entering the clearing.

They turned and Harry couldn't stop the smile from coming to his face. Cedric Diggory. Alive, and two years older than he'd ever known him to be. Still looked like a boy, in that way preteen girls seemed to like.

"Can I expect the Headless Hunt to help with those?" He asked.

"Huzzah!" Said the leader of said hunt, whose entourage hooted and hollered behind him.

Cedric managed to meander over to where the four of them stood and stuck his hand out to Harry in particular.

"Pleasure to meet you Professor Morrigan. Your exploits have been entertaining to hear about." Cedric told him as Harry shook his hand. "It came as a bit of a surprise to be called on by you. Who referred me?"

"Same as referred them. Fate and happenstance." Harry said truthfully but cryptically. "Speaking of, allow me to introduce you. This is Fleur Delacour, fencing duelist from France."

"Mademoiselle." Cedric greeted politely, putting a little too much emphasis on the "madame" before "moiselle."

"A pleasure." She said, a little stiffly.

Swing and a miss there Cedric. She likes them a bit more calloused and punk rock. Not shiny and boy band.

"This is Viktor Krum, duelist and Seeker from Bulgaria." Harry introduced the next former champion.

"Former, seeker." Krum corrected, shaking Cedric's hand.

"Seeker? I took you for having more of a beater build?" Cedric said.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Said Viktor. "To answer your next question, the sport just stopped feeling so sportsman out of school. I liked the competitiveness, but it became like an extension of the war on the pitch and I didn't like that. Ironically? Less of that in the dueling pit."

Cedric breathed out a sigh of sympathy.

"Yeah, I hear ya on that. But I still play. There's nothing else I love a tenth as much, certainly not in terms of sport." Cedric said.

Harry could relate. If Quidditch in his time had been ruined nothing else would have really captured him. He'd probably just become a miserable nine to five employee and family man, after all what else would there be? Maybe join the Department of Mysteries.

He shivered in disgust at the unholy company he would have to keep with such work.

But for now, he was reunited with the most competent men and woman he had ever competed with. The champions were reunited. Along with one of the champions friend.

"Oh! And this is Poliakoff." Said Harry, introducing the patient werewolf. "He will be the board game master for us."

"Awesome to meet you man." Cedric said, shaking the last hand present.

"It is good to have you back at Hogwarts, mister Diggory. Shall I finish divvying up the duties." Madame Hooch enquired.

"Yes ma'am." They all said.

"Let's see, broom racing?" She said.

"Me!" Harry, Viktor and Cedric said at once.

"I think I'll take that one, actually. And… What the hell does "Dungeons and Dragons, Shadowrun and other tabletop RPGs" mean?" She said.

Poliakoff hissed.

"That one you might have to deny. They're like board games, but with an enormous time commitment. It's a five-hour endeavor." He said. "And with them being teenagers still in school, they will probably want to meet daily."

"I'll pass the bad news back to the students. Oh! Boating?" She said.

"Me." Viktor and Cedric said.

They looked at each other, as if appreciating the other in a new light.

"Cedric already has two and Viktor has one, so I am giving it to him. Can you handle both that and wrestling mister Krum?" Hooch said.

"Absolutely." Krum affirmed.

"But I only got one myself?" Fleur complained.

"There are actually several fencing clubs." Hooch corrected. "Saber, epee, short sword and long sword."

That seemed to calm Fleur down. So far it looked like she had the most work of them all.

"The last two are Pole-arms and javelins." Hooch called out.

"I'll take pole-arms." Said Krum.

"I'll take the stick throwing." Said Cedric.

"Well, that covers everything. The ghosts already assigned to each club, or who have ran similar ones in the past, will get you up to speed on each." Said madame Hooch. "They all have more experience that any of us ever will. Use it."

"Yes ma'am." They said again.

It was starting to sound like a military installation out here. Madame Hooch had that effect on people.

Harry checked his watch and realized he had plenty of time to get to his class before the early arrivals starting meandering in.

"Hey, I have a class, but this evening if you guys want to join me for some food, let's make that happen." Harry invited.

"I'll be there." Said Cedric.

"I'll need a good meal after my wrestling refresher, so sure." Said Viktor.

"I have absolutely nowhere else to be." Said Poliakoff.

"Zat sounds lovely. I've heard so many good things about British cuisine." Fleur said sweetly.

Oh Fleur, just for that, we'll be eating at the Hog's Head. Aberforth cuisine for everyone.

---

Dumbledore stood at his office window looking down on the school grounds, watching as the new employees, and Morrigan, returned from the forest towards the castle proper.

"Our peaceful warrior pulls through yet again." Said Alastor. "And in a way that makes him smell like sunshine and daisies, while bringing together people that are clearly the titans of the future."

Fleur Delacour, Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory. Each was formidable, either in intelligence or combat skill or both. He didn't personally see the virtue of the Poliakoff, but there must be hidden strength and ability there if Morrigan was roping him in. Great destinies often await the most inconspicuous of men.

"Indeed. It is starting to feel like he is creating an army under my very roof." Said Albus. "An army of peace, one non-participatory in the war. And I find myself envious."

"That may not be his intention." Said Severus. "He may simply be working from knowledge of the future in choosing people he knows are up to the job, or had done the job in his original timeline."

That was also a perfect explanation. If they worked under the assumption that it was a circular time loop, in which Morrigan was makign certain to recreate the timeline as he knew it to be as if following a recipe, then he merely recruited these people because he knew he recruited these people. The reason he became a professor at Hogwarts was because he knew he became a professor at Hogwarts.

The reason Morrigan let him die was because he knew Albus Dumbledore was supposed to die.

"If you feel that envious of him, you can do the obvious thing." Said Alastor.

Albus looked at his lieutenant.

"Let go of the reigns, and leave everything to him. Be a follower for once. It's not a bad thing to be. Takes away a lot of the stress of thinking." Said the Auror.

"Or better yet, leave the war entirely." Said Severus. "Just be a Hogwarts professor again."

Now there was a thought! Spend what little tile he had left actually enjoying the thing in life he worked so hard to get and loved more than all others? Teaching? Could he get away with handing over the role headmaster to Minerva and taking over transfiguration class for the rest of the year, leaving the war to somebody else? Could he quit as Mugwump and Chief Warlock?

That sounded like heaven to him. But he would need at least two more people he could trust to do their job as well as he did. Minerva was a perfect successor as headmistress. Morrigan was proving to be able to handle the war, better than he ever had, but he just couldn't trust the man yet. If he had more time to watch and see he could come to that decision, but not yet. But what about the Ministry and International Confederation of wizards?

Fleamont Potter was the only person who came to mind for Chief Warlock, but getting him into the position would be impossible. He drew a blank on a successor for Supreme Mugwomp. Maybe if he could coax Nicholas to take it on temporarily?

It was high time he put into action his plans to have successors in place upon his death anyways.

"Bring Minerva. It's time I told her that I'm dying and to prepare to take over." Albus told them. "And I need you two to scout potential successors for the positions of Mugwomp or Chief Warlock. Besides Fleamont."

They both bowed and left him there to his ever increasing thoughts.

---

Tom woke up where he had fallen, beside the sword of Gryffindor.

The first thing he felt was an all-consuming thirst and hunger. The second was the cold hard ground beneath him. He was getting to be old to camping on stone floors like this.

"How long was I out?" He asked.

"Two whole days." Walburga answered.

He heard her approach and accepted the water canteen she offered.

"I've been persisting off of the food stuffs you brought with us. Kind of you to think to bring a whole week of provisions." She groused.

He shrugged.

"You never know what kind of trials can completely derail your plans and leave you on the run for a week or more." Tom told her.

He was speaking from experience. Lots of experience.

"Well, a good meal a stretch should set you straight. Then we must be on our way." She said. "Can't apparate from in here, couldn't get you out without drowning you."

Correct on both. Apparating was one was to make the spacial expansion within the chamber to collapse, killing or outright vaporizing anything not made of stone or metal. Which neither of them were.

"Sounds like a plan. What's left?" He asked.

"Plenty of eggs, beans, tea and sausage." She said. "It's all you seemed to have packed.

Were they British enough? Tom felt they could be a bit more British.

"Could have sworn I packed powdered cream, ginger snaps and honey too." He said.

"Hm. Doesn't seem to be any left." She said dryly.

The size of the sweet tooth on her, eh?

They ate the quick meal, which she magiced up in place of cooking on the perfectly good skillet he packed, and they were off. A quick shout to his rianbow serpent friend, a short swim riding on it like a kappa, and a day of hiking took up all of their Monday. When they finally exited the fields of Kalkajaka stones and were able to use magic again, Walburga apparated them back to her cottage.

"I need to lay down." Tom said.

Going for a seven hour hike after a two day coma left him sorer that… well, than a guy who was completely immobile for two days and opted to go on a seven hour hike. The discomfort of side-alonging with Walburba didn't help.

"It seems somebody knows you're here." Walburga said from the kitchen.

Tom looked up to see what she was talking about. Sure enough, there was an owl with a package in its beak. He recognized it as the Malfoy family Owl.

"Hello Swash." He greeted the Eagle Owl. "You look like you've been on quite the flight."

Indeed, to make it all the way from Magical Britain to Australia in just three days? Going on four? Very impressive. He had to wonder if own offices have a way to portkey owls, that's the only way to explain the impressive delivery times. Like many magical industries, their methods were secret.

He got up and stumbled over to the bird.

"What do you have for me?" He asked as he took the package.

It was from Lucius, which boded well. He didn't want to get a letter from young Draco telling him how his father was dead and he was lord now. Or worse, go behind his parents back to try and join as a junior death eater. The physical beating he'd get fro trying such a stunt would be a thing of beauty.

"What is it?" Walburga asked.

"Apparently the Unspeakables need me to authenticate a memory?" He said, confused before rechecking the letter. "Oh! It's a dream vision, and there seems to be parseltongue in it. Yeah, that makes sense. If I confirm the parseltongue that eliminates it being a fake."

It also explained why a ministry worker would go so far out of their way to get in direct contant with the dark lord. Unspeakables will put aside wartime concerns for their research.

"Penseive is by the vanity, love." Walburga told him as she went into the bath.

"Thank you!" He called out.

He walked the short distance into her bedroom, found said penseive that seemed to double as a night light, and dropped the memory in.

---

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[Jao]

which Morrigan was makign certain to recreate

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making*

A quick shout to his rianbow serpent

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rainbow*