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

Chapter 18: One Week Down

Chapter 18:

One Week Down


The remainder of the week was mostly a repeat of his first class with the third years, teaching the precursor to meditation techniques to each and every student. Some took to it like water, most needed guidance, surprisingly few fell asleep. And that's what he was for.

It wasn't a particularly difficult task. All he needed to do was find out any habits his students did when naturally absentminded. Do you often play with your hair absentmindedly? Great! Use that bad habit as a trigger to make your mind, well, absent. From pacing, to snacking, to slouching to twirling a quill. Each person is unique, hence the pointlessness of breathing and body awareness exercises when teaching people, particularly children, meditation.

The real hiccups he ran into were with the students themselves. Keeping a calm and cool exterior when encountering long dead friends was tough enough, doing so while two ex girlfriends reverted to horny teenagers was equally difficult. And so went his class with the fifth years, where Dennis Creevey, Ginevra Weasley and Luna Lovegood shared a table. And boy did they like to stare.

It may have been Snivellus' teasing, or the fact that due to his extrasensory capabilities he could actively FEEL what Ginny and Luna were putting off like a miasma of pheromones, but he got the feeling that if they were seventh years instead of fifth he would absolutely fall to temptation and lose his job. He committed to himself never to supervise a detention involving either of them. But isn't that what Filch and Hagrid are for? Hmm. What about Madam Pince and Pomphrey? He'd never had detention with either before which was partly because one of them didn't exist in his world, but still, he should ask them what their methods of detention are.

"I have them wash the linen and hospital gowns by hand with a galvanized washboard and hang them out to dry on the rooftop patio." Rebecca explained. "Only accessible through my office, if you're ever looking for a quiet place to sit and think away from students."

To think there were parts of the castle that even he hadn't been to. But something about how inviting the young healer had made her offer told Harry it might not be wise to accept, what with the whole him dating Bellatrix thing.

Irma Pince had a rather different answer.

"If you so much as think about pawning off troublemakers on me, I'll reduce you to potion ingredients for Severus and Lily's next potion experimentation binge." She warned, likely unaware that he knew who Lily was. "I have a difficult enough time trying to prevent vandalism and theft of the fourth greatest repository of magical knowledge in the world, don't give me more work!"

Harry had to resist informing her that it was actually the fifth largest, as that would reveal he knew about the one place that comes close to matching the ICW's Magnus Fontis, the magical side of the Library of Congress and that maze beneath the Great Plateau that the Egyptians guarded like treasure. That could get him into legal trouble, owning one of those surgically installed portkeys was one of the only ways known to escape from Azkaban, after all.

He'd be willing to bet quite a few galleons that she had one such portkey embedded into her palm, but he'd never make such an accusation in public. Or private for that matter.

Aside from that it was a quiet first week of classes. It was still too early in the year for tensions to be rising high enough that he'd have to break up fights, deal with bullies or overstressed students getting involved in self-destructive behaviors. His study groups were also going well, and he continued to exchange increasingly awful Haiku's with the black sisters. They, thankfully, stopped sending collaborative ones and were sending them individually.

Tis a bad habit

Keeping your lady waiting

Be prompt in writing

B.W.B

Clearly Bella had taken his delay in telling her about his first day as a slight. Perish the thought.

Wear the green proudly

It suits you better than red

It matches your eyes

A.I.T

Mrs Tonks was speaking to him with a familiarity as if to imply she knew better than she did. He had to wonder how much personal information Bella was sharing with her sisters? He used to be worried that she might be sharing information on him with Voldemort sympathizers. Turns out he should have been more frightened of the entirety of Britain knowing every detail about their budding romance. What else is new?

He takes after me

Spoiled Rotten and so vain

He'll grow out of it

N.D.
M​

Well, at least she's somewhat self-aware. And in good humor. Hopefully his friendship with the woman in this reality would go more smoothly than in his universe. And not be built on the sandy foundations of a life-debt triangle.

Aside from that all was peaceful and simple. He would teach the exact same thing to every group of students and helped those in need with homework. This still left him with plenty of free time to plan out his class schedule.

He knew he'd have to catch them up on palmistry(actual palmistry, not the superstitious bs used by soothsayers the world over), so he'd start with that. He needed to get them interested in basic philosophy and logic and try to get some economics in there to help them make accurate predictions. Each of these things were vital in making accurate predictions of the future, both generally for society and for an individual. He added body language to his palmistry plans.

It was Friday when he finally had his second class with the seventh years. Before he could even give them the same song and dance about clearing their minds Draco and Hermione handed him a twelve-page essay. Duel sided.

He then proceeded to actually give them the same song and dance about becoming absentminded and left them to their own devices. They quickly confirmed his suspicion that they had been hounding their younger years about the first actual divination test because they all had the hand of it within fifteen minutes.

Which left him an hour and a half to read and critique the 24-page essay on the inherent magic within Muggles. And it was one hell of an essay.

Beyond it being barely coherent with each paragraph alternately being written by one or the other, with commentary by miss Bones thrown in, the amount of information crammed in could have easily been stretched out into an essay twice as long. He was suddenly thankful that Harry and Ron's habit of bullshitting their way through essays was one neither of these three ever picked up.

At least their spelling, grammar and paragraph spacing were perfect. He had nightmares about the dressed single block of chicken scratch he was promised he'd get eventually. And so, he did his due diligence and actually graded the essay as he read their arguments, and by the end of it was thoroughly disappointed in his friends. He finally, regrettably, had a chance to open his bottle of red ink and scrawled a big, fat A for acceptable on the final page.

He checked the clock and discovered there was still twenty minutes left in class. And so, after quickly checking, for what must have been the hundredth time in just as many minutes, that his students were managing to keep their minds cleared he addressed the class.

"Alright everybody, I'm letting you out early since you decided to study ahead." He told them.
Cue the fanfare.

"I'll see you all Monday. Expect a more practical class this time." He warned. "Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger. Please stay behind."

The two excitedly approached his desk as their peers filed out. That excitement vanished when they saw their grade.

"An acceptable!?" They chorused.

"That's like C!" Hermione added, and Draco scowled at the reference to Muggle schooling.
It was actually more like a C plus, but he knew telling her that wouldn't console her.

"That's because it is acceptable." He told them. "I told you, or at least strongly hinted, I would be grading you based on the quality of your research and arguments. And while the latter was worth of an exceeds expectations, the former was not."

He took the essay back from them.

"Miss Granger, your position was that the theory of Muggles being inherently magical but incapable of using deliberate magic due to psychological factors cannot be possible." He summarized. "And your reasons were that if this were true adult Muggles, when they found out about magic, either by marrying a witch or wizard, siring a witch or wizard themselves or by going off the deep end and suddenly believing themselves Jesus reincarnated or an esper. But we don't see that happen. Is this a correct summary of your position?"

"Well, I also argued that squibs wouldn't exist if this were true. And that most children believe in some form of magic or another, by way of father Christmas, religious miracles, or superstitions about luck or I'll omens." She said.

Harry nodded.

"And Draco, you argued that it was likely because of the very incidents I exposed you to. The people dying or going missing due to accidental magic and that if magic was purely genetic Muggleborns simply would never exist, or certainly not in the numbers we see if it was simply a recessive gene. Is this a fair assessment?"

Draco hesitated.

"I had other things I wanted to argue, but I didn't want to be too... caustic, I think, is the word Susan uses when Granger and I get heated."

Ohhhh. He was starting to understand why their essay had been so lackluster.

"Do you mean to tell me." He ground out. "That you two agreed to do collaborative, argumentative essays together, and then missed the whole point of doing so by refusing to criticize each-other's arguments and points... out of fear of hurting each-other's feelings?!"

They had the decency to look abashed at that.

"Well, when you put it that way. It does make it sound like we're being a bit..." Draco began.

"Cowardly?" Hermione offered.

"Yes. That. But you don't understand sir. She and I have gotten into really heated discussions before. One or both of us had to go to Pomphrey in a few occasions."

Oh, Harry knew full well. Even after their Hogwarts days those two were volatile together. Volatile, but occasionally brilliant. Hermione had given Draco several black eyes like in third year when he mouthed off - and in a few of those occasions he had even been right - and he had returned the favor exactly once.

Ron had been there. But even he was too surprised at the venomous thing she had spouted at him that he couldn't bring himself to be enraged at the blonde ponce knocking her lights out. Draco, on the other hand, had the decency to look horrified about it. That Ron then responded by laughing his ass off surprised them all the most.

"What?!" He had said. "You've seen us duel before; she can take a punch. Especially a deserved one."

They never talked about that incident again. But they also never stopped making jokes about Draco's devotion to gender equality. And Hermione toned down her venom for the reformed Slytherin.

"And what holes in both of your theories did you think you missed?" Harry pushed on.

"Well, I think she missed out on the variability of magic in individuals." Draco admitted. "Not all witches and wizards are created equal, regardless of belief in magic or ones abilities. To the point that even having the term squib is less a definite title, than it is a spectrum."

This was exactly right. There are witches and wizards out there so weak in magic that they can't do anything more advanced than a levitation charm. But they are a witch and wizard all the same. They usually focus on potions.

"Correct. There are many people in this world born with so little magic that it's barely noticeable. In fact, a large portion of the Muggle population, due purely to centuries of breeding, are such people. So yes, most Muggles are incapable of advanced magic. But Apparition, especially accidental, isn't advanced. Especially not when in a place flooded with magic, like the deep wilds or ancient cites where weak Muggles can unintentionally tap into wells of power not their own." Harry explain. "Also, free hint. What are the two biggest signs that a person is particularly gifted in magical prowess?"

Hermione raised her hand and then blanched when Harry answered with a raised eyebrow. They weren't in class, after all.

"Performing magic at a particularly young age, or at a particularly old age." She recited.

That was also exactly correct. While Harry didn't hold the world record for the oldest person to have accidentally inflated a relative while angry, thirteen was pretty old for accidents like that. And it was an incident that became widely known purely because of what it implied about how potentially powerful he was.

Meanwhile Voldemort still had accidental explosions of magic into his seventies. What did that say about him? Beyond, you know, him being emotionally immature enough to throw temper tantrums in his twilight years. Yeah, he was that ridiculously powerful. Towards the end there he was more magical being than human.

"Are you saying... Ohhhh!" Draco said in realization. "If a witch or wizard is weak enough in magic, and doesn't develop what little they have from a young age, then like any other muscle or mental acuity it will decay with age and be nonexistent by adulthood."

Harry nodded at Draco's conclusion.

"It's more analogous to language." He said. "Children so horribly mistreated as to have never learned how to speak or socialize, by a certain age, are never able to learn how to do so at all. It is lost forever. Same for social skills."

That wasn't the only similarity between language and magic, however. But that was a strange and esoteric area of magical theory. Let's just say there's a reason spells are spelled "spell" and leave it at that.

"But surely there are people born with no magic at all?" Said Hermione.

"Theoretically that isn't even possible." Harry said. "Magic is required, or a by-product of(It's debated) life. No living thing, to our knowledge, has exactly zero magic. And very few nonliving things. But we have theorized what a person truly born without magic would behave."

They both hung on his every word.

"Magic would be unable to touch them. Taking the strange phenomena of those who are particularly weak in magic being unable to see many creatures, like dementors, and turning it up to an extreme." He explained. "Simply put, a living being, or object, completely devoid of magic would be immune to every spell, enchantment, potion or ward."

He had that same look on his face when he first heard that little theory. But it checked out. Such a thing would be particularly useful for all kind of of black ops. It was why so many government agencies and extra-legal organizations of... questionable moral standing has attempted to create such a being.
"Killing curse?" Said Hermione.

"Like a light breeze." Answered Harry.

"Fiendfyre?" Asked Draco.

"Fiendfyre specifically targets objects or living things particularly magical in nature. It was, after all, invented as a means of destroying cursed objects, not as an offensive spell." Harry answered. "You should know this, mister Malfoy.

By the look on his face Harry knew Draco would be asking his father to verify that one with Rookwood as well. Harry would very much like to meet this universe's version of Rookwood. He was a brilliant man, turned mad by Azkaban in his world. And arguably unfairly so.

"And I would also point out, that even Muggle adults particularly weak in magic perform magic all the time. Accidental or focused, but nearly always unintentionally." Harry explained. "For example, a few years ago there was a manhunt for somebody who was harassing a Muggle man by enchanting his keys to vanish after a certain amount of time. It turns out, he kept thinking his keys had gone missing and accidentally vanishing them himself."

They both laughed at that one.

"More common scenarios are people believing a home or place has a dark history and manifesting magic around them as shades or poltergeists, full on hauntings. More magically gifted people, divorced from their magic, develop something like proto-obscuri. Demons, in their own minds, that haunt them incessantly. That isn't getting into accidentally created Tulpa, manifesting wants and desires for long term goals in what, to the observer, seems like a run of good luck or the universe, or god, smiling upon them as they walk their path."

They nodded to every word. Harry was starting to think he might be cut out for this type of work.

"Now." He finished. "I'm going to give you one last chance to earn an Outstanding on this collaborative essay. I want five pages, single sided, by Monday. AND I want you guys to get into each other's faces and scream about what you think is right or wrong on this topic. Call each-other names, hell, come to blows if you have to. But you two together? I have all the faith in the world that you can get to the bottom of any mystery if you let your thesis, to her antithesis, come together as synthesis."

Ick. He definitely wouldn't be going with teaching them the utter bunk of Hagel's synthesis as an introduction to philosophical thinking. Fun thought experiment? Sure. useful tool for parsing reality, philosophy, religion, economics and politics? Absolutely not. Just have a gander at the gnostic ideologies of the 20th century and the 21 flavors of grievance narrative socialism it spawned as proof of that.

"You're dismissed." He told them.

They nearly sprinted from his classroom, and in the process knocked over poor Susan who had been listening in on their conversation from the top of the stairs.

Her aunt must have taught her some right proper sneaking for him to not have noticed her.

"That'll be ten points from Hufflepuff Miss Bones!" He called down the stairway as they fled. "For the dropping of eaves!"



He was so ready to see Bella again. And tell her all about his week. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until the morning.

He had already made an appointment that Friday evening to meet with his five sponsors and first group of volunteers for his Werewolf rehabilitation center. The place of meeting? Why, the lovely baby blue shrieking shack, of course!

He spent a good hour tidying up and even baked a loaf of banana bread - because it makes any home smell amazing! - so they might have something to snack on over tea and legalese. Fred provided all of the ingredients for it and Katie helped.

The place was looking fantastic. The woman's touch translated to more colorful wallpaper of orange sunflowers and yellow pomponettes, along with similarly floral curtains. The rugs and furniture were kept earthy browns, just bright enough to be distinguishable from the dark, hardwood floor. The whole placed looked like an actual flower garden. Needless to say, Harry loved it.

Then there were the shelves upon shelves of goods and the revamped kitchen, which was now a full-fledged bakery. Teh shelves of product looked more like library stacks but with boxes of joke treats and prank devices. These shelves filled all of the downstairs and second floor rooms, leaving only the basement and attic free from clutter. The former having been turned into the private apartment for his six friends, and the latter was designated for storage and large, walk-in freezers.

They might be able to get away with storing all of their product in the basement on full moons instead of needing an outdoor shed.

If tonight went well then they would be able to shelter their first batch of lycanthropes by the next full moon on the 26th(A/N-2) and if he was doubly lucky, he might find a piece of land by then as well. Hopefully he'd be able to get it done a few days before the full moon proper. Symptoms can be nasty even before the day in question for some strains.

With banana bread and a fresh pot of tea prepared he stood by the door with seconds to spare, and at exactly eight pm his guests announced their arrival with a knock on the door.

He smoothed his dress robes with his hands, cleared his throat, squared his shoulders and pulled the door open... only to then feel like falling to his knees when he came face to face with a woman who had the most beautiful pair of green eyes he had ever seen in his life.

Everyone had lied to him. His mother's eyes were so much prettier than his.

"Whoa." Said Lily Potter, as she glanced between her husband beside her and back at Harry.

It would have been nice of Dumbledore to have told him who his new benefactors were.

"Welcome to my humble operation." Harry managed to push through his breaking voice. "It's so nice to finally meet you in the flesh."

Oh, owe. The wording. Poor choice of words. That hurt. That hurt a lot. In fact, every face in the group that greeted him was like a punch to the gut.

Lily. James. Sirius. Remus. Even Peter was there, and he looked so much better than he'd ever seen him.

But there was a sixth face in the crowd. One he remembered from his trip to the bookshop.

"I told you!" The boy from the bookstore hissed to Lily and James.

What he had told them Harry didn't dare to ask. Instead, he raised up the best occlumency shields he could manage and committed to suffocate the overwhelming emotions threatening to overtake him. He would pay for it when the shields came down, but he'd pay for it when these strangers weren't there to see it.

"I would like to thank you all for agreeing to meet with me to discuss my nonprofit." Harry greeted, almost wincing at the robotic tone of voice brought about by his occlumency. "Could I interest you in some tea and banana bread?"

This was going to be a very long night.


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Chapter 19: Dead Faces

Chapter 19:

Dead Faces


Harry's offer of tea and banana bread was well received and once everybody was served, he took his seat at the head of the dining room table.

"So. I Understand Albus recruited you all to see if you'd join me in my endeavor?" Harry said in an overly polite manner. "Or was it you Remus?"

"Oh no, we all volunteered." Remus answered. "We all happened to be in an Order meeting when your letter arrived, and we're all interested."

Harry tried not to gawk at the man at his apparent slip.

"Order meeting? I'm not sure I understand?" Harry lied.

"Oh hush, you. We all know you're fully informed in the going-ons of the Order of the Phoenix." Lily told him.

Harry gulped. That didn't add up. There was no way they should know that he knew the Order of the Phoenix even existed. Was Dumbledore screwing with them all?

"I must insist on my ignorance of this Order." Said Harry. "But suffice to say you intercepted my request and have come to my aid?"

They all nodded.

"Well then, I do believe introductions are in order. I know I've met my colleague here and the young werewolf in the alley. Forgive me, I don't remember your name?" Harry said to the young man sandwiched between Lily and Remus.

He was far more amused by that sentence than it warranted.

"Romulus." He answered. "Romulus Lupin. I'd be a sixth year at Hogwarts, but I'm being homeschooled because of my condition."

Harry nodded in understanding. Miniscule, tiny little world.

"With your father's experiences in Hogwarts I'm sure you wanted to avoid all of the hassle and danger of being around others your age." Harry conceded.

"Well, it would have been fun to get Ron, Nev and 'Mione to become animagi and frolic about the Hogwarts grounds every full moon like this lot used to do, but they don't seem keen on me repeating their idiocies." Romulus answered.

... had he accidentally dosed them all with veritaserum? He decided against drinking his own tea.
"You all seem really loose-lipped about war secrets and past crimes that could get you put away. You three are still unregistered, correct?" He said to James, Peter and Sirius.

"Meh. We put up enough privacy and detection wards to catch even the world's greatest assassin before knocking on the door." Said Sirius. "So we can talk openly without fear.

"We really ought to come by and properly anchor those wards so they're permanent." James suggested. "We want your wards to be safe during the full moon. And taking a weekend out of our lives to save our foundation a thousand galleons hiring enchanters is just wise business practice."
Harry allowed his eyebrows to rise at that.

"You speak as if you've already decided to sponsor me." He said.

"Not only sponsor you, but devote as many waking hours as we can to volunteering here." Said Peter with a smile that lacked all of the cruelty and deceit of the Peter Harry had known.

Harry was surprised by his own lack of discomfort or repulsion by the man's presence. It helped that he looked much more human, and certainly masculine, than in his world. But he also just seemed... likeable, in a sleepy kind of way.

"Wow. I thought this would take some convincing. But I guess that works out. Is it because you are all such close friends with two werewolves that you decided to sponsor me?"

They shared a knowing looks.

"That alone would probably have been enough." Admitted James.

"But really, it's more our belief in you and the certainly that any cause you choose to pursue must be worthwhile." Said Remus. "What, with your knowledge of the future."

Harry's occlumency shields were starting to slip as his confusion at their behavior and reasoning seeped through.

"I would advise against putting so much faith into any diviner, let alone me." Said Harry. "I am nowhere near flawless in my predictions of the past or future."

Seriously? They all put that much stock into the most wooly Hogwarts subject there is? Whoever Trelawney's predecessor was must have been excellent to instill such faith in them. It would certainly explain why they took the prophecy so seriously in his timeline. And likely this one as well.

"Oh, we think your abilities at fortune telling might be a smidgeon better than the run of the mill sooth sayer." Said Sirius, barely holding back a smirk. "Is there anything important you can tell us? Time and day of deaths for instance? I'd like to maybe avoid our untimely demises if you have any info on them."
Peter smacked him on the back of the head.

Okay. So, they really were strangely confident in his seeing abilities. He'd just have to run with it.

"Well if I have any visions concerning you, I will share them post haste." Harry consoled them. "But per chance ask me of your futures and I can make predictions even without sight? Deduction is usually enough to make some educated guesses."

Romulus eagerly raised his hand and was bouncing on his chair.

"Hmm. Such a rowdy class today. So many eager hands from students." Harry said jokingly. "Mmmm, how about YOU! Mister Lupin. You have a question?"

"Ehem." Romulus cleared his throat dramatically. "Yes professor. I was wondering if you could tell me when in the future I learn how to do wandless magic?"

Harry considered the boy for a moment.

"Have you shown any talent for it in the past?" He asked.

"Well, no. I've been trying really hard at it lately but with no real success." Romulus admitted.
"Then what makes you think you will in the future?" Harry asked curiously.

Romulus gave him a deadpan look. Like something about that question was utterly demeaning.
"Call it a hunch." Said Romulus.

Harry leaned back in his chair.

"Well, I discovered wandless magic when I finally accepted magic fully and understood it on an instinctual level." He admitted. "Every witch and wizard at some point in their lives gets to the point where magic just clicks with them. Where the divide between spells become superfluous and with a wave of the wand, a mental command, and muscle memory a witch can set the dishes to wash and dry themselves, the duster and broom to get to work, and the laundry to fold itself all at the same time. No need for incantations or wand movements. It's like an artist finally becoming a master and not having to think about his work."

The adults present all nodded at the explanation.

"For some it becomes so second nature that they can instantly use any new spell they come across without incantation or wand movements, although all of them I've met are ancient men and women with over a century of life under their belt." Harry explained. "I can't quite do that, but I can learn any spell from seeing it done once. Still need the wand movements and incantation for most until I've got some practice."

At this point Romulus took out a tiny notebook from his breast pocket and jotted down what Harry was saying. he even had his own multicolored BIC pen. Good lad.

"It is that combined with the ability to truly feel the magic of the world around us, accept it's wild sentience and emotion, that I suddenly discovered I could tap into it with but my mind. No wand necessary." Harry finished. "Of course, I do believe very few people have the temperament to do it."
"Were there any specific events or experiences that got you to that point?" Lily asked.

Harry nodded.

"Actually, it was my apprenticeship underneath Ollivander learning wandcraft that first let me tap into that." Harry said.

"Wow!" Said James. "It only took you a few weeks under the old coot to gain this ability?"

Shit! Well that's a pretty big hole in his life story. Harry played it off by chuckling.

"Actually, I apprenticed under Ollivander for over a year with another apprentice. A pretty blonde." He said truthfully. "I only decided to reveal myself to the public recently after I returned from a tour around the world. Her you will have to wait and meet later."

That left his entourage in deep thought for a few moments before they, all at once, seemed to come to an understanding of his meaning.

"And who was this pretty blonde you speak of?" James asked in a strangely knowing tone. "Were you two close?"

"Actually yeah." Harry admitted. "We dated through our time together. She was wonderful. To be honest, I still very much love her. But we can't be together for reasons I'd rather keep private."

"Well then, we just need to keep our eyes out for any pretty blondes." Lily said with an oddly knowing smirk at Romulus.

This was becoming far more taxing than he expected, and in completely unexpected ways. He was supposed to be the one that left people off center and confused, it wasn't right for the tables to be turned on him in this way! Then again, he was dealing with all four Marauders simultaneous, the wife of one, and the son of another. Perhaps he'd finally met his match in pure zaniness?

"Right! Well, do you think Mr Ollivander would take me on?" Romulus asked eagerly.

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe. You'd have to ask him." Harry said. "He only took me on because I saved his life once. And the life of the aforementioned pretty blonde at the same time."

That left Romulus in deep thought.

"Then I'll just make sure I'm ready when the opportunity to do the same comes around." Said Romulus with conviction.

"What makes you think a similar opportunity will present itself to you as it did me?" Asked Harry.

Romulus gave him that same deadpan look from earlier.

"Call it a hunch." He repeated.

... Right, he needed to rush these lunatics out of his door before he punched one of them.

"Well I do have to be going to meet with my girlfriend soon. I have all of the paperwork necessary for you to sign." He told them as he got up to retrieve copies of the agreements to them.

"Er, right. About your girlfriend." Lily segued into the personal topic. "How did that matching come about?"

Harry considered his mother, momentarily forgetting about the stack of papers he was carrying.
"It, uh, sort of just happened honestly." He told her. "Do you have some kind of criticism of my choice in lover?"

Lily shuddered at his use of the word lover, but barreled on in putting her foot in her mouth.

"Well, the age difference is more than a little concerning, I think." She said haughtily. "To say nothing of her... questionable allegiances."

Harry mercilessly smothered the strange mix of emotions boiling up beneath his iron tight occlumency shields. Anger and incredulity at somebody criticizing the woman he was inexplicably fond of. Embarrassment and gratitude over his mother trying to look out for his wellbeing. Confusion at her concern for a son that she didn't even know was her son and the question of if she could somehow feel that maternal connection and be acting on it.

He responded in cool measure.

"With all due respect, Mrs Potter, whom I give my heart to is a personal affair and ours is a business relationship." He said. "While I'm happy to extend friendship above and beyond our shared duties in this nonprofit, I would ask that we keep my dating and sex life out of our conversations."

Lily sputtered at his curt rebuke and turned redder in the face than Ron when he joined Bill in visiting Fleur's extended family... on her grandmother's side.

She looked about ready to climb over the table and smack him.

"Why... you.. I think its very much my business!" She practically exploded. "I just want to make sure..."
James reached over and squeezed her hand, shutting her ho.

"Lils, he's right." He said. "He's a grown man and we already said we'd put our faith into whatever decisions he made. Let it go."

Lily Potter deflated and returned to her seat.

... Right, well, moving on.

Sirius, seemingly eager to break the tension, stopped him there.

"As hilarious as I find it to know my eldest cousin is cradle robbing our new boss, I would like to check the property to make sure it's all in order." Sirius said. "If that's alright with you?"

"Er, sure. I actually meant to give you a tour earlier, but I guess it slipped my mind in my nervousness." He admitted. "If you'd follow me."

"That won't be necessary." Peter told him as he and Sirius vanished, replaced by two hairy quadrupeds.

Padfoot and Wormtail then rampaged through the shrieking shack like they owned the place. Sirius with his nose to the ground and tail wagging and Pettigrew vanishing behind any furniture that could hide his tiny form.

They soon exited the room and continued on through the rest of the building.

Harry set out the documents on to the individual placemats as he listened to the two animagi sweep the house. At one point he was sure Sirius had knocked over a lamp upstairs with his tail and Peter had somehow gotten into the walls based on the scratching noises.

By the time they both returned Lily and Remus had finished reading through the documents.

"All clear." Said Sirius. "No signs of booby traps, spying equipment or toxic substances. Paint is non-lead based. And the store shelves have runic arrays to allow them to be fully transformed into military style bunkbeds."

"What's more, not a whiff of any rodents or pests." Said Peter. "Save for me. Couldn't even find a cockroach or termite to snack on."

He said it humorously, but Harry suspected he would eat such things in a pinch as a rat. But it was good to know he didn't have roaches. He intended to keep it that way. Or at least, he hoped the Wheezes managed to keep the kitchen clean after baking.

"I will need you to certify that you intend to be trustees and will faithfully administer any duties you all decide to divvy up amongst yourselves as members of the board." Harry told them. "I technically only need three people, but with five of you that should really shave off how taxing your responsibilities will be."

They signed without any questions or comments once Lily and Remus gave them the go-ahead. Caution to the wind then? What had he done to instill such trust in them?

"So. I hear my substitute has been giving you a hard time?" Lily said once the finished paperwork was passed back down to him.

"Oh right! You're supposed to be my coworker. Whyever haven't I seen you around the castle?" Harry asked. "And no. Severus has been shockingly friendly. I think he respects me. Heaven knows why."
"He does." Said Lily. "He told me so himself. Says you remind him of me, with a pinch of Dumbledore and Sirius thrown in. It's a combination that's driving him bonkers."

Hearing it put that way, yeah. He could understand why his presence had such a strange effect on the old bat. He was caught between his joyous friendship with Lily, deep respect for Albus, and raging rivalry with Sirius. Explosive combination. The former likely because of his eyes, the second and third because those two men had such an influence on developing his personality.

He took great joy in knowing his mere existence caused that man an existential crisis.

"And I've been away from work because I'm working on a project to help my... to help someone very dear to me with their sickness." Lily said. "A sickness I caused by trying to protect him. But you already knew that."

Harry knew when not to dig. Especially with him having just told her to but out of his private affairs.
"I'm not omnipotent Mrs Potter." Said Harry.

"Oh enough of the stuffiness!" Said Sirius. "We're going to be working together for a long while. I'm not Mr Black, I'm Sirius. She's Lily, he's James, he's Peter and he's Remus. The runt you can continue calling Mr Lupin."

They all nodded as their friend pointed to them in turn.

"You and I have been on a first name basis for a whole weak now." Added Remus. "Along with all the other Hogwarts faculty. So why not them?"

Harry conceded to that point.

"And would you prefer we call you Hadrian or maybe a nickname for it?" Asked James.

"What would that be? Had?" Asked Peter.

"Nono, it's a roman name. Means dark-hared. The correct nicknames for it are Ryan and Hades." Said Sirius.

Harry hadn't known that. About the Hades part. Even when given the choice of a new name he accidentally christens himself the lord of death. Fate sure did love screwing with him.

"Maybe just... Harry?" Suggested Lily. "James, didn't you have a relative named Harry?"

"Harrison, actually. A great uncle of mine." Corrected James. "But Harry is the correct shorthand for it. Not so much for Hadrian."

That part Harry did know. The origin of his namesake. But he was getting the feeling that he was being made fun of.

"I like Hadrian best. Please, for the love of all that is good, don't call me Hades." Harry pleaded.
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Hadrian. I look forward to a long friendship and business partnership." Sirius said, offering a hand.

Harry shook it and the five other hands that got offered in turn.

From there the conversation turned to business. But with company like this it was anything but droll.
He told them about his plans to find a property to grow ingredients for the wolfsbane potion, and they promised to ask around.

"In the meantime, we can probably setup some greenhouses around the shack?" Lily offered. "Romulus and I both love working in ours."

It was a good idea, so he wrote it down.

Sirius inquired about the lack of chains and Harry explained that the facility would focus on intoxication for treatment, namely alcohol and THC, to make the transformation more bearable for those who couldn't use wolfsbane. When Lily pointed out that some of them would have jobs that require drug tests, he assured her that he had thought that far ahead and had detoxification potions to remove traces from their systems on the way out.

The place was to be free of chains and barred cells. It was meant to feel like a home for his wards.
His new employees proved invaluable in supplying suggestions for minor improvements. Namely the need to reinforce the doors and windows in case of a werewolf getting out of control. Remus, of all people, suggested pitfall traps with cages at the bottom on the hill and fields surrounding the shack.
"In case someone gets loose while transformed. It's better to wake up in a cell than with human limbs scattered around you." He said.

It was a fair point.

He showed them the barracks, or the single shelf he asked the Wheezes to empty for him to demonstrate their changing abilities.

"The entire place is capable of sheltering twenty werewolves in each of the five rooms, for a maximum of 100. There was also the basement which has a walk-in freezer I'll reinforced myself. It is empty, and designed to hold any werewolf who, for whatever reason, can't be made docile during transformation."
Extreme cold could incapacitate a werewolf. And potentially kill it, so he would need to train somebody to safely use it in cases that it was necessary.

"I think it's more likely than you think." Said Lily. "Many people have moral objections to narcotics, or have health conditions that make it unwise, get a combination of somebody allergic to wolfsbane and disdain for drink and devil lettuce and you'll have somebody in need of a deep freeze."

She was right. There was room enough to install a few more freezers if the need ever arose. And if the funds didn't dry up.

Soon enough it was time to say farewells.

Harry had, over the course of the night, slowly allowed his occlumency shields down and allowed himself to feel. It was nice, being around them. These people he ought to have loved and who ought to have loved him.

He was happy. In a melancholy kind of way.

"I look forward to our correspondence over the week." Harry said as they filed out. "Don't ever be afraid to write."

Lily was the last to leave, but before exiting the door he'd held open she turned on Harry and considered him.

"I want you to know, it was wrong of you to deceive Albus into thinking you're a seer in order to get the Divination position." She said. "But I understand the necessity, and I know that we've all deceived him in greater measure for similar reason."

Harry stared wide eyed at his mother. Then she did the unthinkable.

She hugged him.

It was a tight, bone-breaking, Hermione-esque hug that took his breath away. And in trying to regain it he breathed her in. He was hugging his mother for the first time in memory, and she smelled like all of his dreams coming true. Strawberry and passionfruit mixed with the unnamable musk of perfume and... and her.

He hugged her back and melted into her soft warmth.

"I hope you know what you're doing. We know you've been working all on your own until now. Call onto us for anything. No matter how trivial." She said.

With that she let go and exited through the door, closing it behind her.

Harry stood there for a moment. The emptiness left by her disappearance like a hunger for human touch that he had never known. Suddenly he was a three-year-old child, wanting to run out of the door crying for his mother and father that were still on the other side of it. For his godfather and the father to his godson too.

And then he remembered his own versions of these people. The ones who had died. The ones who had died because of him.

All at once these, and the reminder that all of his friends and families from his own timeline might be lost to him forever, and the responsibilities he had shouldered came crashing onto him all at once.
He apparated away.



He reappeared in a secluded woodland. He didn't know where specifically. It was one of their hiding holes during the hunt for Voldemort's horcruxes. Could have been the place Hermione went camping as a child, could have been the place near the river they had recovered in after their dragon ride post-Gringotts break-in.

It didn't matter. It was secluded, it was far away from anybody he could hurt, and it was intact.
And so he let loose, and his magic reduce the world around him into nothing.

Stone boulders were reduced to dust, the trees to splinters, and the unfortunate birds, rodents and insects to nothing more than a pink mist. Their magics all screamed in agony and betrayal as his usually loving and understanding magical extension pulverized them and swirled their remains around him into a vicious typhoon.

He was screaming. He didn't remember when he started doing it, but it registered that he was screaming and couldn't hear it over the sound of the world around him being eradicated.

It was wrong. The world was wrong.

Why had it taken so much? Not from him, but from everybody?

Good people. Brilliant, wise, loving people from all sides of this conflict thrown away like refuse in the name of... of what? Not Voldemort, not the Ministry, not a god or ideal. Just chaotic happenstance.
From accidents in lab experiments, to an unlucky shot in the battlefield to cold-blooded murder in the pursuit of immortality. It was all so senseless. Potentially good people locked in cages with soul-sucking demons, for crimes that were so pointless, fighting and dying on a battlefield for an inch of ground that would be lost the next day.

There were so many of them, people he had loved and hated but were all just... people. Stupid, caring people with dreams snuffed out by fates that toyed with them seemingly for their own amusement. And they were all his responsibility now. Why him? There were plenty of people smarter, stronger, kinder, wiser or more experienced than him. There were even a few who were all of those things. Why couldn't they have a shot at this saving the world business?

Hell, there was a hero hiding inside of everyone he knew. From little Xenophilius to Hagrid, if given the chance they could take the reins of destiny and uphold this responsibility. And yet fate chose Harry. Why?!

Why did it choose to take everything away from him not once, but twice, and now dangle the threat of taking it all away from him a third time? What had he done to earn this? Was it a punishment? Was it all a twisted reward, letting him see them all alive when he had so long ago accepted their deaths and the unfairness of their lives before moving on?

He just didn't understand.

He didn't know how long he was there, but his emotions were spent long before his magic, and so the latter died down. The once scenic woodland now a tumbled mess of transfigured wood, stone, soil and meat forming a winding wreath of impressionist art. Some of it was smooth, some of it was jagged, but it was all a horrible testament to what he was capable of. What he had been capable of for some time and hadn't even realized until now.

As if he didn't have enough to deal with, now he was a walking, talking weapon of mass destruction.



Bellatrix looked at the grandfather clock and clicked her tongue impatiently.

Hadrian was late. He had promised to meet her at her apartment thirty minutes ago, and he still wasn't here.

It wasn't the first time. And she wasn't angry about it. She knew she should be angry at him, as any lady ought to be. But something about his boundless patience from the moment they first met, during that patronus lesson and ever onward made her feel the need to reciprocate that patience.

And so there she sat, on the end of her couch, reading Duelist's Weakly.

She had already learned all of the going-ons of the fencing league, where dueling was performed with both fencing skills and spellcasting. Their season was over, with the new champion being a quarter-veela from France. Then there was the brawlers league. Fists, and wand and body throws oh my! The former she had considered trying out for once or twice during duller seasons, the latter not so much. Simply barbaric.

Although she had to admit, the rising star in the brawlers league cut a fine figure. A Bulgarian man whose moving picture was a bit pigeon-toed, but that could be chalked up to the disorientation from the obvious nosebleed and head trauma he was sporting.

Now she was learning about proposed rule changes for the strip league, the one she took part in, where duelists stood at opposite ends of a narrow strip similar to the fencing league, whereas the brawlers fought in a ring. Casting, blocking and parrying without the ability to dodge or advance truly took the most skill with a wand of them all, hence her fondness of it over the others.

And then there was the laughable attempts at introducing more brutal forms of HEMA into magical duels. The last two wizards put into a ring with wands, claymores and morning stars ended... exactly the same way as the prior hundred attempts had ended. Hilariously. And with quite a bit if gore. She was fortunate enough to be in the crowd for it, invited as the date for one of the duelists. She had also been in the splash zone. She wasn't the type of girl to get a man's bodily fluids onto her during a first date, but that time had been an exception.

There was a knock on her door.

"If it's a Mister Morrigan making an evening call, he is more than welcome to simply barge in." She called out.

And he did.

She was so busy feigning indifference to his presence that she was thoroughly surprised when she found his head pressed against her stomach and arms wrapped around her waist.

She eeped at the sudden intimacy from the man kneeling in front of her. It was a first for them.

"Oh my, have you finally decided to get a little more frisky with me? You certainly know how to keep a lady waiting." She purred as she raked her nails on his back.

And then she felt it. His magic, always expanding outwards from him in such a way that even those less in tune with magic could feel the warmth and welcoming nature of his aura. It wasn't stretched outward now, it was trapped beneath the surface and felt like the roiling sea. His skin akin to lashing winds, foaming waves, pelting hail and bolts of lighting to her touch. It was wrong for this wonderful man's magic to feel so painful. So pained.

She switched from aroused clawing to soothing back rubs and from purring flirtation to cooing consolation.

"What's wrong my dear? Did somebody attack you?" She asked in genuine concern.

No wonder so many people thought she was bipolar. With her ability to switch from hot under the collar to mothering in a split second like that.

"Had to go work through some issues." Came his muffled response. "So many dead faces. So many dead children."

She fought the frightened shiver his response brought down her back and continued rubbing his.
"Past deaths for future deaths?" She asked, thinking maybe he had a rather horrible vision of some kind.

"Both." He answered simply.

As always his obfuscations were both concerning and confusing. But also damned interesting.

She still didn't know much of his past, especially his youth. But this wasn't the first time she suspected life hadn't been kind to him. She saw the telltale signs of it. Powerful people like him and Dumbledore always had great tragedies which either broke and rebuilt them, or mutated them horribly like Voldemort. All roads led to power in this way. That being said, she knew with his boundless patience and joy that Harry was the former, but it seemed his rebuilding process wasn't done yet.

Perhaps in never would be? It hadn't for her. She wasn't sure about Dumbledore.

Hadrian was hurting. But he wasn't breaking. She couldn't fathom a thing capable of breaking him. But like her, recharging and relaxing from the stresses of life was an occasional necessity. When memories bubble up and erupt from the dark recesses of the mind.

"Would you like a drink?" She offered.

She felt him shake his head against her stomach.

"No. Only drink when happy. With people that make me happy." He said.

Fair enough.

"Alright, up!" She said, patting his back with both hands.

He obeyed and got off of her, and she missed the weight but knew neither of them would get much out of staying in that position. He wouldn't share any more information with her, and he clearly wasn't in the mood for a tussle on the couch.

"Sit." She demanded as she got up, indicating the seat she just vacated.

He obeyed like an adorable, if downtrodden, puppy and she made her way to the hallway closet. She retrieved a guest blanket she kept when a friend or relative (See: Nymphadora after a breakup or Narcissa when angry with Lucy) needed to crash on her couch. A quick trip to the kitchen later and she returned to her - boyfriend? - with the blanket, a spoon and big ol tub of double fudge ice cream.

"Bunch up." She said before crawling into the couch with him and wrapping them both together with the blanket.

"Okay. So. I'm going to feed us some chocolate ice cream, and eventually we'll fall asleep because it's dosed with a mild dreamless sleep potion." She informed him. "It's one of Fortescue's special comfort ice creams. Charmed not to melt when we inevitably drop it as we pass out. Now, in the morning we're going to continue working through these issues of yours. Don't have to tell me about it, but you do have to come along with me as I try to cheer you up. Kay?"

She didn't look up to see his reaction as she popped the lid to the ice cream, but based on the rough chuckles that made them both vibrate she'd take that as a yes.

"Now." She said as she scooped up the first spoonful of chocolaty goodness. "Say aaaah."



"Ahhhhh." Voldemort sighed as the crisp evening air blew in from the harbor and his boat docked into London.

The delicious smell of salty air, fish, London rain, and Muggle machinations filled his senses.
He wiped his drenched hair out of his face and lifted his nondescript Muggle rucksack as he departed the small fisherman's boat.

Sixteen years. Sixteen long years he spent away from the country which birthed him, save for the occasional short visit. Leaving it to the children of his first followers to mold in his image while he turned his sights abroad. Only ever returning to stoke the flames he had left beneath metaphorical cauldrons that needed delicate attention.

The terror from the first war still gripped magical society to the point that to this day people feared his name. But with the children of his first batch of Death Eaters now having children of their own old enough to serve, it was time to collect the new batch and finish what he started.

The seeds had been planted everywhere else which had fertile soil. It would be some time before they were ready, and he would need new blood to tend to it all. Hence his return.

"Daddy's home. Who will be first to taste of his belt?" He asked rhetorically as he walked the plank onto the pier.

The sound of appiration hailed the arrival of Aurors. An entourage meant to search for any dangerous cargo in wizarding vessels.

While the question had been rhetorical he was delighted to get an answer all the same.

This was going to be a fun night.



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"Hmm. A blonde, inquisitive oddball?" She said to the boy in overly exaggerated sarcasm. "Whoever could that be?!"

He stared at her in something akin to horror.

"No way! You don't think it could be... could it?" He said, turning to Harry.

"I have no idea what you guys are getting on about." Harry said honestly.

This was becoming far more taxing than he expected, and in completely unexpected ways.

I - like Harry - legit cannot guess who they're thinking about and I find that so goddamn funny.

"Ahhhhh." Voldemort sighed as the crisp evening air blew in from the harbor and his boat docked into London.

The delicious smell of salty air, fish, London rain, and Muggle machinations filled his senses.

He wiped his drenched hair out of his face and lifted his nondescript Muggle rucksack as he departed the small fisherman's boat.

Sixteen years. Sixteen long years he spent away from the country which birthed him. Leaving it to the children of his fist followers to mold in his image while he turned his sights abroad. Only ever returning to stoke the flames he had left beneath metaphorical cauldrons that needed delicate attention.

The terror from the first war still gripped magical society to the point that to this day people feared his name. But with the children of his first batch of Death Eaters now having children of their own old enough to serve, it was time to collect the new batch and finish what he started.

The seeds had been planted everywhere else which had fertile soil. It would be some time before they were ready, and he would need new blood to tend to it all. Hence his return.

"Daddy's home. Who will be first to taste of his belt?" He asked rhetorically as he walked the plank onto the pier.

The sound of appiration hailed the arrival of Aurors. An entourage meant to search for any dangerous cargo in wizarding vessels.

While the question had been rhetorical he was delighted to get an answer all the same.

This was going to be a very long night.

And holy hell, that's a Voldemort characterization I haven't seen before. Also, due to absurd brain associations, 'arriving in Britain on a boat' is making me go "DRACULA VOLDEMORT?!" and I thank you for the mental images that mashup is creating.
 
Very interesting. So they think he's their Harry, grown and sent back in time. Seems their Harry was sent into a coma of some sorts. It's a little odd that he doesn't catch on that they clearly know something.
 
looks like fred and george told them of a Harry Potter in Hogwarts? and they werent subtle at all they know something about him why did he not catch that lol. Also, he knows divination and can use it, right? why did Lily say he needs to be careful not to get caught faking it? they have some incomplete information and assumptions about him thats for sure.
 
looks like fred and george told them of a Harry Potter in Hogwarts? and they werent subtle at all they know something about him why did he not catch that lol. Also, he knows divination and can use it, right? why did Lily say he needs to be careful not to get caught faking it? they have some incomplete information and assumptions about him thats for sure.

Incorrect on the first half, sort of correct on the second. They do think he's a fake though.
 
REALLY dislike their confidence and self-assured belief that they "know" who the MC is without ANY evidence of that, ESPECIALLY dislike their arrogance in blatantly stating as fact that the MC is a fraud.
"I want you to know, it was wrong of you to deceive Albus into thinking you're a seer in order to get the Divination position."
 
REALLY dislike their confidence and self-assured belief that they "know" who the MC is without ANY evidence of that, ESPECIALLY dislike their arrogance in blatantly stating as fact that the MC is a fraud.

Agreed. On all accounts. Don't worry, they'll pay for it in time.
 
Chapter 20: Visiting the Dead

Chapter 20:

Visiting the Dead



Bellatrix woke up laying on top of the lumpy mass of an unconscious man currently pressing into her backside. It would have been a more pleasing thing to wake up to, had they not slept on the couch without having bothered to extend the sofa's hidden bed. No amount of stretching would cure this kind of muscle stiffness. It was made even more uncomfortable by the fact that they were both clothed and hadn't been intimate the night before.

As such, in lieu of waking her man - as she now fully thought of him - with sensuality she woke him with a chaste kiss on the mouth before breaking into an uncomfortable stretch. Uncomfortable for both of them, but fun and flirty all the same.

"Oi, there really isn't enough room on this couch for either of is to be doing yoga." Morrigan grumbled.
Lacking the wit to properly retort to his charm she instead responded by planting a much firmer kiss onto his lips. He moaned into it and deepened the intimacy ever so slightly before breaking away.

"Oh god, is that my breath?" He said as he smacked his lips in revulsion at the taste. "Or yours?"

She stuffed the throw pillow into his face to try and hide her laughter at his joking. Why? Why did he make her laugh so easily? Why couldn't he let her be serious, and cold and tough? It was infuriating.

"No, I suppose it's mine. I'll go shower and freshen up while you make breakfast, then the bathrooms all yours." She told him as she got up from the couch and finished her light stretches.

He imitated her by stretching himself and gave her a light spank as he squeezed past towards the kitchen. She left him to his work with eggs and potatoes and grabbed a clean set of clothes. One quick shower later and she returned to her tiny dining room to a full plate of scrambled eggs and steamed, garlic potatoes.

"And this morning, we feast." She said as she sat opposite him.

"That we do. Doped ice-cream isn't exactly a well-balanced dinner." Hadrian said. "I put it back in the freezer by the way."

She nodded as she sprinkled some black pepper onto the eggs and dug in.

"So. What was last night about?" She asked.

He sighed.

"My meeting with my new business partners went very well. They were all a bit odd, but I'm one to talk." He explained. "I also talked to my mother. She uh, does not approve of my dating a cougar. But that's hardly going to make me change my mind about dating you."

"Cougar?" She dared to ask.

"Muggle term, for middle-aged woman who dates younger men." He explained.

"I regret asking. Continue." She said between mouthfuls.

"Well from there I had some... bad memories resurface and I also foresaw some things. Worries about potential futures. Had to go somewhere secluded to blow off steam before seeing you. Wiped myself out." He finished.

It was amazing how this man could tell such interesting stories without saying a single thing.
"Will I get to meet these parents of yours?" She asked.

"In good time I suppose." He answers.

"How much time is good time?" She pressed.

"Not a clue, if I'm being completely honest." He admitted. "Not only am I uncomfortable exposing her identity to anybody at this point in time, but I'm also going to be keeping busy for the next year. And so will she."

She could understand that. It didn't make it sting less though. It stung almost as much as seeing him without his usual zaniness and good humor. Last night she expected him to opine all night about his first week of work, about his favorite students and the troublemakers - which his Haiku insinuated included Draco. Their actual evening together turned out to be much less interesting. She needed to get him back into his usual self. Bet how to do it?

"We're having dinner with Andy, Ted and Nym tonight." She declared as she finished the plate.

"Er, we are?" He asked.

"We are." She affirmed. "So, you go take care of whatever errands you have planned for the day, visit whoever it is that you know can help you recharge your unique brand of crazy, and tonight we will have a wonderful time, the time we should have had last night."

Hadrian seemed to accept that with a nod before finishing off his own plate, which she took along with her own over to the sink.

"I'll take care of these, you go on and take a shower and be on your way." She instructed. "What's on the itinerary?"

"Register the name for my nonprofit, not sure what else." He admitted. "Maybe visit some people that can recharge my unique sense of crazy."

He excused himself to the shower and ten minutes later he returned freshly cleaned and his clothes freshly pressed. She could only assume he was a master of household charms, even wandlessly. She was useless at them, hence washing dishes by hand.

"Well, I'm off. Diagon Alley awaits." He announced as he made his way to the door.

"Nuh uh, not without giving your girlfriend a kiss goodbye you aren't." She said, stopping him in his tracks.

"Oh? My girlfriend are you?" He challenged as she walked up to him.

"Well, I'm certainly not your booty call and sure as hell not your wife. Now lay one on me." She demanded, presenting a cheek.

He did as instructed and left her there with a hand massaging the war spot on her face where he had placed his lips. Yeah, she did a good job in picking him. Shame Andy and Cissy needed more convincing before they came to the same conclusion.



Harry's first order of business for the day was to drop in on Garrick.

"Well, you're certainly looking more well-kept than when last I saw you." Harry announced as he entered the otherwise empty store.

"Not having a loudmouthed, alleged boy lover here stirring up the rumor mill and driving me nuts did wonders for my health and hygiene, yes." Ollivander quipped from where he was reading the latest Prophet.

Indeed, he was freshly shaven and seemed well rested, no longer obsessively pouring over Harry's memories. Which brought them to the crux of his visit.

"You done using the pensieve to steal the work of my world's Garrick?" Harry asked.

"Yup. Already got your memories bottled up and ready to be inserted back into that twisted mind of yours." Garrick said, pointing to the work area in the back.

Harry followed the well-trekked path through the stacks of wands to the workshop where he discovered Garrick's latest experiments. He recognized them instantly as single knot gambler wands. Wands that, like the Elder Wand, build up a blockage along its length until a certain type of spell is cast. Some built up a charge when any kind of spell aside from charms are cast with it, releasing said building when a charm is cast. Others did the same with curses, healing magic, jinxes and so forth. The Garrick in his world got as far as three knots before reaching a roadblock he couldn't overcome, but both he and Harry believed Luna would one day surpass him in skill and further the research into creating gambler wands so that all wizards and witches might have them.

Even those three knot wands sold out whenever he made them and sold for a whole lot of money. They were usually custom made for duelists based on what type of magic they preferred.

"I see you've mastered single knot gambler wands!" Harry yelled back to the front as he found the bottled memories and began scooping them back into their home.

"Of course!" Ollivander yelled back. "Took longer than I feel was necessary, but that's because I kept getting sidetracked experimenting with two and three knots. Getting ahead of myself."

Harry nodded to himself at the excuse, knowing it to be perfectly valid, and finished up with the memories. He made his way back to the storefront.

"Planning to master double knots next?" He asked.

"Actually, I'm thinking about putting that off until later." He said. "I want to take your idea about experimenting with the two identical wands and seeing what kind of results I get out of it. Might reveal the key to developing a dual-core wand."

Harry couldn't stop his eyebrows from racing to his own hairline at that. Wandmakers have been trying to make wands with dual cores for centuries. The why is long-winded and complicated and, at risk of breaking my own rule against fourth wall jokes, Ollivander will in all likelihood explain the many advantages of a dual-core wand in a future chapter.

"I also want to experiment with creating more focused gambler wands." Ollivander added. "To overpower a specific spell to an even greater degree than if you cast them with a more general knotted wand like these."

That did sound interesting. But for the life of him Harry couldn't figure out how Garrick planned on making such wands. The utility of such wands, on the other hand, were rather obvious.

"So, a housekeeping witch could order a set of wands that each specifically builds up a charge for different cleaning charms. Or a ward in Saint Mungo's could have a set of wands each specifically overcharging different counter curses or healing charms." Harry concluded.

Ollivander gave Harry an approving nod.

"I see one problem with the idea." Harry said. "It's difficult to create wands that are omni-loyal, so the highly specialized wand would need to be custom made for the individual witches or wizards involved. That could get pricey and would by necessity of their nature only be useful to people in highly specialized roles, like a mind healer or nuclear waste vanisher."

"Right you are, or else very general medical practitioners who would need a set of wands for damn near every medical charm ever. Doable, if I had an apprentice." Ollivander explained, giving Harry a pointed look.

Harry groaned. The old man really wanted to know who his apprentice was going to be. And up until now Harry had resisted the pressure... however. Luna was starting her fifth year now, which is when they're supposed to get career counseling. Hmm.

"Luna Lovegood." Harry answered the long overdue question.

Garrick blinked. No doubt he thought Harry was pulling his leg.

"Not even joking. You two were meant for each other, believe me." Harry explained, recalling vividly their almost psychic connection when working together in his world. "Speaking of, I think I'll visit the Lovegoods after I'm done with my business here. It would be nice to meet Luna's mom and I have some business with Xeno."

Ollivander considered him for a moment, before glossing over that Harry just revealed Mrs Lovegood's terminal case of death in his world.

"If I recall correctly, Pandora Lovegood is a brilliant spell inventor. Maybe put in a good word for me with her to see if she wants to collaborate sometime?" Ollivander pleaded.

Harry raised his arms up in a "well duh" gesture.

"What are friends for?! Is their floo address still The Roost?" Harry asked.

"Sure is." Ollivander confirmed.

Harry nodded by way of goodbye and exited the shop.



He returned to the leaky cauldron and paid the one sickle fee for using the floo before sticking his head into the fireplace and calling out for the Roost.

"Hello?" He called out into the familiar mess that was the Lovegood household and Quibbler main office.

When a head appeared to gaze at him in the fireplace he momentarily thought Luna from his universe somehow followed him here. Until he spotted the differences between Pandora and her daughter. She looked just like her younger clone, but more, well, defined. Namely the big difference was that Luna was much thinner due to being childless, thus lacking the developments that came with having children. God, did maternity ever do wonderful things to a woman's body.

he was starting to suspect he might have a thing for older women after all.

"Yes? May I help you?" Pandora greeted nicely.

"Hello Mrs Lovegood. My name is Harry, er, Hadrian Edward Morrigan. I'm the new divination professor at Hogwarts and I was hoping to speak with you and your husband." Harry explained.
Her naturally wide eyes, so much like Luna's, got even wider.

"Did my little Xenophilius cause some kind of trouble? Is Luna okay?" She asked seriously.

Harry noticed the implied assumptions in her question but decided not to comment on it. Surely this woman knew Luna was the more likely one to cause serious trouble... although that might explain why she was concerned for the girls safety over the boys.

"Perfectly fine, I'm actually visiting in my capacity as the head of the Morrigan estate, not in regard to my duties as a professor." He said. "I'm hoping to sponsor the Quibbler."

"Oh my! That's wonderful!" Pandora said with a clap, before turning suspicious. Her mannerisms were so cartoonish and fast-changing it could give a man whiplash. Just like Luna. "Are you having a go at us?"

"No ma'am. I want to advertise in the magazine and sponsor an article." Harry said.

"Well then come on in!" She beckoned. "I'll open up the floo for transport and go fetch my husband."
Harry pulled his head out of the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of powder, threw it into the brick orifice and walked into the green flames. He exited into the circular first floor room of the Lovegood household to no fanfare. Pandora hadn't returned with Xenophilius yet.

He took this time to glance around and compare the differences between this world and his. It was a habit at this point. He found none, aside from the place being more tidy and having a feminine touch. More bright colors, superfluous pillows on the furniture, overly intricate blinds and lamps. That kind of stuff.

"Professor Morrigan?" Xenophilius greeted as he came down the stairs.

He advanced on Harry in his usual excitable jitteriness and offered a hand, which Harry shook in equal excitement. Another person with a happier life and whose appearance showed it. Beautiful/brilliant wife, gorgeous home, adorable and kind son and daughter with great futures ahead of them and his own company so that he was his own boss. The guy was winning at life, and by an enormous margin.
"Please, call me Harry. I expect us to have a wonderful friendship. May I call you Xeno?" Harry asked.
"But of course! Come, sit down." Xenophilius offered, indicating the couches.

"Would you like something to drink?" Pandora offered. "We have tea, coffee..."

"Gurdyroot infusion, if you have it." Harry interrupted.

He tried not to laugh at their look of excitement at meeting somebody who drank that swill.

"My ex girlfriend got me hooked on the stuff." He told them. "It tastes like troll snot, but I haven't had indigestion or gas once since she started me on the stuff."

Pandora beamed at him before meandering to the kitchen island to make them the drink.

"So. Tell me about your business." Xenophilius coaxed him.

"Well it's a non-profit. A shelter for werewolves during and near the full moon. Providing shelter, wolfsbane potion where it can be given and other treatments where it can't." He told the man.

"And you wish to advertise in my magazine to get the word out to werewolves in need?" Xeno clarified.
"And to get volunteers to help. I have so many responsibilities, and so do the members of my board." Harry explained. "In addition to this I would like you to tour the facility for your first article, stating your conclusions and criticisms, and again after our first batch of werewolves come in. To report on how we did."

Xenophilius nodded cheerfully as Harry explained. The man was always hard to read, seeing as you could tell him the world was ending by means of a giant meteor and he'd cheerfully comment on how exciting it was that they'd have an entire new ocean in the middle of the Eurasian continent.

"Here you are Harry." Pandora said as she offered him a steaming cup on a saucer.

"Heated?" Harry asked. "L-, uh, my ex preferred it cold."

"Ew." Grimaced Pandora. "No it's supposed to be heated like tea. That way the honey and other goodness will melt into it."

Harry took a sip and was amazed at how not disgusting it was. In addition to the aforementioned honey he tasted a hint of... lemon? No, lemongrass. Definitely lemongrass, with an even smaller hint of nutmeg. It would actually taste rather nice were it not mixed into what tasted like liquidized sauerkraut.

"I can say without a hint of hyperbole that this is the best cup of gurdyroot infusion I've ever had." Harry said honestly as he downed the drink.

"So you're commissioning two articles, honest articles, and want to advertise to our readers." Xenophilius concluded. "And you won't retaliate at all in regards to any criticisms I write?"

Harry finished trying to lick the inside of his mouth clean from the drink and answered.

"Not only will there be no retaliation, but additional payment if you find flaws with the program and give constructive feedback on how to improve it." Harry said honestly. "The same goes if your readers write with any concerns or feedback... and it actually helps."

He needed to be careful to add that caveat at the end. He wasn't planning to pay for the mountains of hate mail from the average idiot gossiper with nothing better to do than write bubotuber-filled letters to fourteen years old girls based on the nasty writings of a known liar... He should look into Rita Skeeter. Nobody ever had figured out what happened to her during the war. Harry suspected she met a rather sticky end. He added it to his notebook.

"Well, I speak for both of us when I say that, so far, we are very interested in your offer." Said Pandora. "But I'm not sure if I should charge the usual rate or less. We've never advertised for nonprofits before. We should probably give a discount from our usual rate for the, admittedly rare, advertiser and article commission."

Harry nodded in agreement.

"Plus you would have to see the facility, make sure it's all above board, all of that." Harry said. "And I don't even have a name for the nonprofit yet."

"Oh! That won't do at all!" Pandora beamed. "You surely need a name. How about... Professor Morrigan's Werewolf Sanctuary!"

Harry didn't quite like it. It sounded like a museum for werewolves by a scientist trying to study them. Like one of those butterfly sanctuaries Dennis had taken him to.

"I'll have to think on it." Harry said. "But I would like to subscribe to the Quibbler while I'm here, and buy some back issues. I need to get a bit more up to date on the latest going-ons."

Xenophilius shot up out of his seat and went to a closet where he withdrew a box of Quibblers.
"Last two years of issues. Somebody else had ordered it but canceled at the last minute." Xeno explained. "Very rude thing to do, I think it's a prank meant to make us waste money on printing because it keeps happening."

"Oh, don't say that sweetie!" Pamona chastised. "Nobody would do that to you. What could they possibly have to gain?"

Harry suddenly understood Luna's strange and unreasonable sense of optimism. An optimism that had given him and others so much strength in dark times.

Yup. Xenophilius Lovegood was winning at life.

"Well let me know whenever that happens and I'll make sure you get paid for them. I love your stories." Harry told them as he took the box. "And am in the process of making friends to gift them to anyways."

He paid for the two years of weekly back issues and made to leave. He was stuck wondering how in the world he was going to spend the rest of the day before joining Bella at the Tonks household, when he remembered something.

"Say, Xeno. Are you familiar with highland cows?



It was dark out by the time Harry and Xeno had finished with their favorite pastime whenever they met. A good old rousing round of making up bullshit.

They had spent hours talking and laughing and theorizing and arguing. It was perfect. And all the while Harry made a conscious effort to soak in every detail about Pandora. Her mannerisms, her smell, the sound of her voice. Things that his Luna would weep in sweet melancholy when... if he ever got back to her and the others. He also might have been crushing on her a little bit, but with a woman like Bellatrix waiting for him he wasn't tempted to stray.

But as a result of getting too caught up with the Lovegoods he was nearly late for dinner and arrived at the Tonks household to the smell of a an already served meal. He reached up to knock but Bella was there waiting for him and had opened the door before his knuckles could rasp on its surface. She was glowering at him.

"What?!" Harry said defensively.

She glowered harder.

"What?! You never specified a time!" Harry said in as much seriousness as he could muster.

"I also never told you the address, and yet you somehow managed to make it here." Bella countered.
This was true. But Harry already had a ready-made excuse for how he knew so many things he ought not.

"Psychic!" Harry whispered, making use of his jazz hands.

Bella broke down and smiled at him for that.

"So. Did you take my advice and recharge your crazy batteries?" Bella said.

Harry faked a downcast look.

"No. I mean, I tried, but didn't quite succeed." Harry explained. "So I brought my battery chargers with me! Alright guys come on in!"

Fred and George led the charge, carrying a box of - perfectly safe - cream pastries that were at risk of going bad before being converted into wheezes snacks.

"Hi Bell." They greeted in unison as they pushed past her.

"Ogden's finest, for the iron-bellied." Ollivander said, shoving a bottle of fire whiskey into her arms and pushing past.

"Evening ma'am."

"Hi miss Black."

"Please don't hurt me."

Alicia, Katie and Angelina greeted as they walked past with their own dinner goods.

Xenophilius and Pandora brought up the rear with a jug of gurdyroot infusion apiece. They really shouldn't have, and yet they had.

Bella glared at him the entire while, her lips pressed so tightly together that she could almost be confused for Minerva. But even that wasn't enough to properly mask her mirth at the situation.

"Come inside girlfriend of mine." Harry said. "I must serenade you with he wonders of my first week as a teacher. About my adorable students I've already fallen in love with, the troublemakers I'm even more in love with, and all my woes and joys."

And so they entered the rambunctious Tonks household, to join the many hugging and handshaking people in the laughter and face stuffing. Life was good.



Voldemort managed to throw up the last of the potion into the black, glassy water as the last of the terrible visions - or perhaps memories - faded away.

The bomb run sirens, explosions tearing apart his foster siblings in the orphanage, his weeping over said siblings and praying to an apathetic god to spare his life from the German Socialists flying above and raining hell over London. You'd think by the age of seventy he would have conquered these demons, but stuff like that never leaves you.

He took deep breaths, and with a flurry of his wand vanished the putrid water from his body.
The defenses of the cave were absolute. Even he could not reach the locket without drinking the Potion of "Nostalgia". A nasty concoction by an eighteenth century mediwizard in Austria. Meant to help soldiers with post-traumatic stress disorder. Naturally, it tended to make things worse.

Even he wasnt strong enough mentally to resist the devastation it caused to the drinker's mind, nor resist the bottomless thirst it gave him.

Fortunately the army of inferi beneath the water were programmed to not attack him, but gorging on the necrotic water which held them in his terror-addled delirium was still an unpleasant thing to come out of a hallucination to. Even if he knew he'd suffer such indignity ahead of time.

Perhaps the ward he setup around the island to vanish any water brought onto it was a bit overzealous? It didn't matter now. After today the protections here would no longer be needed. He would probably find some other use for the cave eventually, but not yet.

He stood by his own power and reached into the basin, retrieving the family heirloom he inherited from his mother. He felt the piece of himself inside of the locket, calling out to him. The magic keeping the shards of his soul separate became tenuous and weak when touching.

Good.

He placed the locket around his neck and sat in a meditative position. Mustering up the courage for what came next was no simple matter. He had never been a very brave man, after all. Fear was a deeply ingrained part of him. Fear lead him to study, to advance and court allies from the age of eleven. Fear led him to seek immortality and power through the darkest means possible. Fear was why he never got into a fight or situation he couldn't win, or at least escape from.

And right now he was afraid. Terrified, even. For he was about to undo so much of his work in favor of a new path, and he was uncertain of his victory at heart.

In his mind? He knew it was the right path. He'd checked and double checked his math and then he checked it again. He knew it would work. Hell, he had known it would work the first time he had studied the process of creating horcruxi. That the best methods they'd conceived of for destroying them was something as advanced as the killing curse or as exotic as basilisk venom. When a simple second year charm would do.

And so he cast that second year spell, a cousin to the cheering charm, on himself after meditating hard on his memories of creating said horcrux. So as to artificially incite a deep and overwhelming sense of - not joy - but remorse.

And all he knew was pain as his soul stitched itself back together.


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Interlude: The Cloak, part 1

Interlude

The Cloak: Part 1

November 18th, 2006:
Department of Mysteries, Britain
Death Chamber:


"Alright que up the next ward scheme." Head unspeakable Nicholas Flamel commanded.

Harry exited the ward circle and walked to stand beside the veil, removing his cloak for what must have been the hundredth time.

"One hundred and forty six, actually." Brain corrected him.

Harry glared at the hooded figure. It bothered him immensely to know there was even one person on the planet who could read the minds of any person in their Presence, completely ignoring any occlumency berriers. He was called Brain, a codename obviously, and had been head of the brain room for over forty years. Spend that much time studying the mind and you're bound to discover secrets of legilimacy that put Dumbledore and Voldemort's claim of mastery into the category of "Childs play."

Out of all the unspeakables who wanted Harry to join the DOM, Brain wanted him the most. Not because of his developing extrasensory ability, but because he believed his mind was particularly suited for the mind arts.(Despite Harry's insistence that it was decidedly NOT.) His own terrible experience was enough to convince Harry not to accept the offer. The fact the man both terrified him and confused him didn't warm him up to the idea either.

The real clincher was when he explained that he had mastered legilimacy to the point of being able to imitate a basilisks glare. Which, it turns out, is nothing more than using the mind arts to hijack your brain and shut down your nervous system, or heart like some Buddhist monks can do to themselves through meditation. You had to master doing the latter to yourself before being able to do the former to others. As a result of this he could also, incredibly, stare a real-life basilisk directly in the eyes and be completely unaffected by it.

Dumbledore? Snape? Voldemort? Posers!

"Well that's honestly the last set of detection and repellant wards we could think to try and find you under that cloak, Harry." Bill told him.

"We 'ave tried everything." Fleur added.

"Not everything." Hermione, the only actual unspeakable amongst Harry's group, countered. "Now we just throw random wards against the wall and see what sticks."

She was right of course. When wards designed to detect and repel people and different types of human magic failed to detect somebody beneath the cloak of death, then it was high time to think outside of the box. So they moved on to snow repelling, ash repelling, sandstorm repelling and more meteorological based wards. From there they went through the list of animal and insect repelling wards, plants-growth and weed prevention wards, and even food repelling wards - usually used in libraries or theaters to prevent people from sneaking anything in, or from making spills.
They had been at it for ten whole hours when they finally hit a breakthrough. And what a violent breakthrough it was.

The moment he stepped a foot through the chalk outline marking the ward he was thrown violently from his feet to land at Love's feet as the room echoed with the alarm Bill and Fleur had setup. Love and Prophecy helped Harry back up to his feet and he promptly threw the cloak aside to catch his breath.

"Wow. Next time warn me when you add a full-body numbing charm to your ward would you?!" Harry glared at Bill.

But Bill, Fleur and Hermione were looking at him with a strange mixture of confusion, fear and disgust.

"Could you... try that again." Hermione asked before hastily adding. "We'll setup a net to catch you this time."

They setup said net and, as soon as Harry could feel his fingers again, he walked through the ward for a second time to the exact same result as the first time.

"That really does sting Hermione." Harry groaned as she helped him back up. "What ward even is that?"

He was half-angry at the unpleasantness of it and half amazed that something actually detected him while under the cloak.

But Bill, Fleur and Hermione were tight lipped. Sharing a concerned look.

"Did we accidentally make some kind of modification to the scheme? There's no way it should detect him." Bill asked.

"Mr Weasley, I think we would all very much like to know what ward it is you just setup in my department." Nicholas interrupted. "You've kept us in suspense for long enough."

Bill nodded and hesitantly answered.

"Inferi ward." He said.

Harry felt his blood run cold. Zombie. Undead. Shambling corpse. If the ward was working correctly, it meant Harry Potter was, according to magic, dead when he put the cloak on. It wasn't a ward people encountered every day, or ever in Harry's case. Harry HAD been struck by the killing curse twice in his life. So it was entirely possible that the ward wasn't detecting the cloak, but Harry himself. That whatever his mother had done had left him, technically, undead.

Which actually did explain how he was able to survive the killing curse. Twice. After all, it didn't work on vampires, or zombies or ghosts, for obvious reasons.

"Easy way to test that." Harry groused as he tossed the cloak aside and walked back up to the ward.

He took a deep breath and stepped through, before letting the breath out when no alarms rang and he remained standing. He allowed himself a sigh of relief.

"Throw me the cloak." He demanded.

Hermione obliged and tossed it to him. To all of their surprise it passed right through the ward and Harry caught it deftly.

So. It wasn't the cloak making the ward go off. And it wasn't Harry. So the only thing left to confirm is if it's a combination of the two that did the trick. And so Harry combined the two. When he next regained consciousness it was to be informed that the ward and flung him straight up into the air and that his landing was less than pleasant. Typical.

They repeated the experiment several more times with the many different wards designed for inferi. Each ended with the same result. As did the wards designed for ghosts, poltergeists and vampires.

"Let's call it quits for the day." Harry finally said. "I have bruises on my bruises."

They decided to start again the next day.



From there the investigation on the cloak became more laboratory based as they tested theory after theory.

"If it's just masking your magical signature and making it appear like that of a corpse or undead, then we should be able to detect the enchantments that make the change." Filius theorized once they invited him in to help. "Or else detect the change the moment it happens."

And so began their attempts at detecting the magic within the cloak. It failed just as with all prior attempts to find any charms or enchantments on the hollow. Their attempt to detect when the change happened was much more successful. They just put up a ward to detect humans and overlayed a ward to detect inferi. The moment the human-detection ward ceased, the inferi one started. But the devices meant to detect any magical residue at the moment of the change came up with nothing.

They tried again with every combination of wards for detecting Harry Potter the living, breathing human and Harry Potter the corpse. Male detection with ghost detection, adult detection to poltergeist detection. All of the them succeeded in detecting both hims, but none allowed them to find the change.

"You know it's entirely possible that there's a runic array on the cloak that only appears when it's active." Said Hermione. "But we just can't see them because it's... you know, invisible."
And so Harry returned to the tiny grave he'd created for Alastor Moody so many years ago and retrieved his nearly pristine eye. After returning to the DOM he gave it a quick cleaning to the handed it off to the unspeakables to examine.

"Uuuuum. We have a problem." Prophecy said after running his thumb on the back of it.

He handed it back to Harry and made him run his thumb over the back of it as well. There was something carved there, shallow grooves Harry hadn't noticed before.

They added ink to the grooves and confirmed the shape they had felt. A triangle containing a circle containing a line.

"... Well of course!" Harry said in exasperation.

"Wait. So there are four Hollows?!" Hermione concluded.

"Likely many more than that." Suggested Space. "How many, we don't know."

Harry pondered this.

"Likely every single thing mentioned in tales of Needle the Bard." He concluded. "So the Pot, the Fountain, The Hairy Heart - or maybe the glass prison that contained the heart, and whatever allowed Babbitt to transform and retain the ability to speak. Likely all slightly or greatly different from how they appeared in the story."

There were no counterarguments. The fact that the tale of the three brothers turned out to be somewhat true was enough to add credence to the other stories.

"But the eye wasn't mentioned in any of them." Said Hermione.

"Which means there may be quite a few more than those in the book." Death countered.

This was concerning.

"If you will allow me to make pure conjecture." Prophecy began. "Perhaps other myths and legends of impossible magical artifacts may hold water? I always thought Alastor's eye reminded me of that used by the sisters Graeae."

Brain hummed.

"So should we start looking for a tooth next?" he asked.

"Possibly winged sandals, a cap and a sword as well." Harry offered. "Although we should be careful not to double count. In all likelihood the hollows spawned many myths since their creation. Which I am beginning to think was much longer ago than near the founding of Hogwarts "

There were, after all, plenty of legendary swords around the world. And just as the elder wand spawned many myths of different wands that were, in fact, the same wand others could all turn out to be the same object of power. If there were many more hollows then the three brothers had predecessors, masters even. This was starting to paint a picture of some unseen order of enchanters, a secret fraternal society of some sort, and the sign of the deathly hollows their insignia. Were they still around? had they made more wondrous and terrible things since the three hollows or were the Peverrals the last of their line?

They moved onto the experiment proper, and ran into the first problem. Using the eye required one be MISSING an eye. Well, not really, you could hold it up to your face and squint but it was hardly effective. But it turned out Prophecy was missing two.

"I blinded myself in order to better delve into my second sight." He explained as he removed his eye patches and placed the fourth Hollow into one of his obscured eye sockets.

Harry wondered why the man hadn't simply started wearing a blindfold instead of going to such an extreme, but if wizards were sensible he never would have beaten Voldemort so he held his tongue.

Once Prophecy put Moodys eye firmly into place it took him a few minutes to get used to it. It was doubtlessly difficult to keep it from spinning around against the users will, and being able to see through physical matter was certainly a means of sight nobody is used to.

"I can't imagine how bizarre this would be for somebody born blind." Prophecy bemoaned before they went on with the experiment.

It did not bare any fruit either. According to Prophecy the cloak looked no different to the magical eye when it was active or not. So they broke it off for another day and went back to the drawing board.



Harry left the cloak and eye with the Department of Mysteries with promises that they'd return them later. And over the next week he left them to their work while he, Filius, Fleur, Bill and Viktor set about a separate task.

Hunting for additional Hollows.

Fleur and Viktor shared many a story from their homeland and Bill shared several more fairy tales not written by Beedle the Bard. Including a Weasley exclusive story about a toad phoenix, a being that threw up its own stomach - as toads are known to do - and in doing so was reborn from the viscera. Gross, but plausible. Hell, he was already coming up with ideas about how such a creature could be born and how it might be related to the toad involved in creating a basilisk and an actual phoenix.

They each went their separate ways in search of Hollows, but Harry was the only one to succeed. It took him a day, as it was the first object to occur to him as a possible Hollow.

"See Filius, right here. Feel that groove? Now follow it up. Now it goes back down. It's a triangle. Then the circle. And a line. It's a Hollow." Harry showed the diminutive professor.

The carving on the object this time was almost as large as Harry, so he had to lift the half-goblin so he could see for himself.

"Remarkable! And how did you know it was one?" He asked.

"Simple. It reminded me so much of the stone. As if they were twins, or if one was the prototype for the other." Harry explained as he walked back to stare at the front side of the Mirror of Erised. "In the same way as the eye and cloak seem to be siblings, or foils."

Filius nodded. It did make sense.

"Do you think the cloak and eye are made by the same person? And the mirror was made by the same person as the stone?" Filius asked.

Harry shook his head.

"No. If I'm being honest, the three hollows seem... Almost masculine in their design. Simple, functional, undecorated. The mirror and eye? They are the work of artisans. Beautiful, not as powerful but with much more care put into their design. More detailed." Harry explained. "I have no further reason for thinking this, but if the Peveral brothers created the three Hollows proper, well, like attracts like and surely their wives wouldn't have just sat around and let their husbands one up them. They surely would have been prodigies in their own right, even if their names are lost to time. This is of course, a fantasy, and I'm just talking from imagination here. It could have been made by their own children, or they could have made them in later years themselves."

He rather liked the idea of Ignotus inventing the perfect invisibility cloak, only for his wife to create a foil for it. Probably out of jealousy that he might be sneaking off to have an affair... Yeah, that's what he was going to tell people. A separate story to the three brothers about their wives. He needed to get that one to Xenophilius.

"What about the wand?" Filius asked. "What of it's twin? What would be a companion to a wand?"

Harry had to think on that. A holster? No. The eye was an opposite to the cloak, and in its own way the mirror was an opposite to the ring. One could create images of ANY desire, but only the deepest desire, and only a vision of it. "Neither truth nor knowledge". The ring could bring shades of the dead, ANY dead, but nothing else. Shades capable of imparting quite a bit of knowledge and more interactive. Both very specific and very broad in opposite ways. So what was the opposite of a wand? What countered a wand?

"A broomstick maybe?" Bill suggested that night at dinner. "Best way to win a fight against a superior opponent is often to flee."

Harry disagreed. Not on the fleeing part, he'd done that plenty of times. But a broomstick or portkey could be foiled with a well-layed ward.

"A shield?" Offered Viktor.

"No. The elder wand is not merely an offensive weapon. It is a wand." Fleur explained redundantly. "It is our source of protection, and food, and transportation. It is our everything. It's counter would be... nothing."

Hermione perked up.

"Tell us what you figured out." Harry growled, wanting to skip the sputtering and thinking out loud.

"A dead zone, or object capable of creating a dead zone." She explained.

Harry didn't follow.

"If I wanted to counteract wands, or the elder wand specifically, I would seek to invent an object capable of suppressing all magic. A magical dead zone." She explained. "A ward capable of suppressing magic."

That rang true. And Harry knew of exactly one place with such a zone. And when the unspeakables were done with the latest tests of the cloak he retrieved it in preparation for retrieving the sixth Hollow.



Azkaban sucked. Even as visitors with an entire pack of patroni, it was awful.

The wizarding world had tried many times to vanish or destroy the dementors there, none had been successful. Not even with Harry wielding the elder wand at full power and being a savant with the spell. So they did the next best thing and abandoned the prison, moving everyone to a more humane facility.

The prison itself? It was under 24 hour guard by a rotating shift of aurors who kept the dementors contained with Patroni. It was almost a training ground to harden recruits and up their skill with the charm. A charm they always called Harry in to teach the new batch.

For at the bottom of the prison, in a sector nobody ever entered because the safety of guards and prisoners alike were impossible to guarantee, was the dead zone. A place were performing magic was impossible, as wands died upon entering, reviving upon returning to the surface. None had ever adventured deep as the dementors guarded it greedily and violently, as this was the place all true dementors were born, and they were finally going to figure out why.

Now he was invading the fortress again, with Filius, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Draco and half of the department of mysteries. Somehow Dudley had heard what was going on and invited himself along.

"I want to confront these things. These things that hurt me so much that they healed me." Dudley explained.

It was a strange outlook. That somebody might benefit from dementor exposure was something nobody had even considered before, at least to Harry's knowledge. Perhaps if used sparingly, and controlled, they could almost become a form of... therapy for traumatic events? Something to look into later.

"Your mission is simple." Instructed Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Enter the magical dead zone beneath the Azkaban, discover the source creating said dead zone and dementors, and retrieve it. Failing that, destroy it."

Simple he says. Why do even competent and experienced leaders underplay the gravity of situations?

Nearly every dementor in existence was in that prison, and thoroughly starved - They had hoped that might kill them. They were wrong. - and they were going to enter a place where they would not have the protection of patroni, or magic at all. Simple. Sure.

"Our guests should arrive momentarily." Viktor said.

Ah yes. Their trump card had just portkeyed onto the shore overlooking Azkaban. An army of deadly creatures that were the only thing, aside from the patronus and Phoenixes, that could counteract the Dementor's effects and whose flames could repel them somewhat. And who wouldn't be effected by the dead zone as it specifically effected wands and the magic created by wands.

Women. Nasty, temperamental, hormonal women. Of the Veela variety.



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Not all world building is glamorous. And this while lacking in plot development is interesting never the less.
 
The real clincher was when he explained that he had mastered legilimacy to the point of being able to imitate a basilisks glare. Which, it turns out, is nothing more than using the mind arts to hijack your brain and shut down your nervous system, or heart like some Buddhist monks can do to themselves through meditation. You had to master doing the latter to yourself before being able to do the former to others. As a result of this he could also, incredibly, stare a real-life basilisk directly in the eyes and be completely unaffected by it.

Do you mean he can copy the effects of the Basilisks gaze with legilimency, while the real Basilisk Gaze is not the result of it doing a mind attack, or that the actual Basilisks Kill Gaze is caused by the snake doing a mind attack on people, and Brain copied it exactly?
 
Do you mean he can copy the effects of the Basilisks gaze with legilimency, while the real Basilisk Gaze is not the result of it doing a mind attack, or that the actual Basilisks Kill Gaze is caused by the snake doing a mind attack on people, and Brain copied it exactly?

The latter.

Yes: The basilisks glare is a legilimancy attack to your Cerebellum and medula.
 
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The latter.

Yes: The basilisks glare is a legilimancy attack to your Cerebellum and medula.

How would the Petrification from looking at its gaze in a reflection work? The petrification iirc in Harry Potter is an actual stasis like effect, if those parts of the brain were attacked non lethally by the reflection of its gaze wouldnt the body go limp, and not like stone? Maybe it also triggers something like rigor mortis somehow?
 
How would the Petrification from looking at its gaze in a reflection work? The petrification iirc in Harry Potter is an actual stasis like effect, if those parts of the brain were attacked non lethally by the reflection of its gaze wouldn't the body go limp, and not like stone? Maybe it also triggers something like rigor mortis somehow?

Coma mixed with the freeze response from fear. Instead of shutting down all autonomous functions it shuts down all conscienous bodily functions. And the rigid freezing in palce from fear, which is what petrification is supposed to represent, becomes permanent until reversed.
 
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Chapter 21: Deadly Love Triangles

Chapter 21:

Deadly Love Triangles


The dinner party at the Tonks household had been a raging success.

They ate their fill, talked endlessly about Hogwarts - during which time Harry had to feign ignorance about what life was like living there - and the finer details of his interactions with different students. It was a beautiful night and by the end of it they were all on their way to a food coma. All of the guests, save for Harry and Bellatrix, had to floo home that night out of fear of possible splinching from the alcohol consumption and general wooziness.

Harry ended the evening by escorting Bellatrix to the Tonks spare bedroom and kissing her goodnight, before grabbing a blanket from the closet and settling into the couch. It was a much more comfortable couch than the one he had slept on the night before, but also significant more lonely. He slept soundly with dreams of cold fields with a viscous wind blowing through them, drowning out the noise of nature and the elements. There was somebody else there, but they both kept apart with their own feelings of loneliness.

CRASH!

Who needs a morning alarm when Nymphadora's around?

"What did you break?" Harry asked tiredly with a morning yawn.

"Just a coffee mug."

Ew! Coffee? Those Aurors needed to stop introducing their recruits to yankee foods and habits.
"Well, repair it and bring me a mug of earl grey will ya?" Harry ordered. "As apology for waking me up."

She grumbled but complied and soon he was seated up with said mug of tea in his hands and the adorable metamorph seated across from him. While he didn't like the stuff he had to admit, the smell of coffee in the morning was a delight.

"So Harrison..." Tonks began.

"Hadrian." He corrected.

"Right. Hadrian. What did I say?" She asked.

"Harrison." Harry answered. "A lot of people confuse the two."

It was much too close to his actual name for his liking. He specifically chose Hadrian because it was close enough that he could answer to it without too much delay, but far enough from the anglical Harry that he felt safer in his alter ego.

"Right. Hadrian." She went on. "My mother and I have been talking about aunt Bella, behind her back obviously, and she's had me thinking."

"Sounds dangerous. And what have you been thinking?" Harry goaded her on as he finally took a sip of the tea.

Still too hot.

"Well, my mother seems to think you're much closer to me in age. And wonders why you pursued my aunt."

Harry had to think about that.

"You mean as opposed to pursuing you?" He clarified.

Tonks snorted.

"Yeah. That seems to be her line of reasoning. She's more new-fashioned and thinks boffing should be kept within generations without too big of age gaps." She explained.

Now it was Harry's turn to snort.

"Well in that regard, I think you and I both disagree with her." He said with a conspiratorial wink.
She glared at him suspiciously but didn't comment further as Bella herself entered the living room. Tonks settled for sipping her coffee and Harry settled for admiring his girlfriend with an intentionally goofy look on his face.

"Uh oh! What have the youngsters been talking about?" Bella asked in a mocking tone.

She advanced on Harry, sat forcibly on his lap, and crossed her legs before hugging his head and kissing him above the brow. A little possessive there Bella?

"Not much." Harry answered through her thick dress. "Just how we both seem to be into people a bit older than us and how other people need to butt out of our affairs."

Ted and Andromeda joined them soon after that and they had a breakfast consisting of their morning drinks and leftover pastries, compliments of the Weasley twins. By the time they all settled in owls were arriving with their daily post. They retrieved their copies of the Daily Prophet and Harry retrieved his Quibbler.

Ghillie Dhu Resurrected

by Xenophilius Lovegood

Late last evening in a Pollock beside a riverbed a strange magical event occurred. A typhoon of wild, vicious magic tore apart the countryside. Stone fused with wood, fused with dirt fused to the unfortunate animals caught in the storm. The end result is a twisted mass that at first glance would seem the work of a dark wizard or witch unknown, but Unspeakables sent to the scene have determined differently.

"We can detect no hint of dark magic being used." Said the nameless, hooded spokesperson for the group of investigators at the scene. "But this was magic, it was powerful and it was wild in nature."
The Department of Mysteries couldn't comment on what findings they've made regarding the taped off scene, but well-read readers will take a glance at the photograph of the strange place and be reminded of a certain Fae entity whom once roamed these lands.


Ghillie Dhu.

A powerful lone fairy known to have lived in the northwest highlands of Scotland - where our story takes place.

He was a terror to the now extinct Sidhe and his wrath was known to cause devastation that was described similarly to the mass of organic and inorganic matter we see here today.

He was known to have warred with other fae species due to their kidnapping - or worse - of children and is attributed to the extinction of several - including the Sidhe themselves who some Magi-Anthropologists believe may have held a similar culture to the worshippers of Moloch in the ancient middle east. And one could imagine why Ghillie Dhu - or an entire race of beings like him as some have suggested once existed - would take issue with that.


His disappearance over a century ago was sudden, and if this is his return then it too is as sudden as his many hibernations and returns throughout history.

If what we are seeing truly is the eponymous fairy rising from his tomb, then may those who mistreat the young tremble in terror.

Harry had to wonder how much of the history on Ghillie Dhu and other fae Xeno made up and which was actually true. He knew nothing of the beings, from either a Muggle or wizarding perspective, but if this got people searching for a nonexistent - or extinct - fairy race, then all the better for him.

"Blowing off some steam huh?" Bella asked from where she sat on his lap.

Right. Somehow he forgot she was there reading over his shoulder.

"Is it that obvious?" He asked.

"Only to me. You did come to me immediately after this happened the other night, I take it?" She whispered.

He nodded and turned his attention to the Tonks family, who he just now realized was silent. Seeing them staring, stock still, at the front page of the Daily Prophet made his stomach drop.

Bella noticed too and tentatively reached across the living room table to slowly pry the copy Nym was holding onto. The photo on the front depicting the horrific murder scene of two Aurors explained the looks. As did the title.

Voldemort Announces his Return to Britain with a Gruesome Display.

Why did Tom always have to pull stunts like this instead of just having a quiet visit? Hell, Harry'd settle for confetti and fanfare.

"What are we going to do?" Nym broke the silence. "The war has been rough enough with him overseas, how much worse is it going to be with him back?"

"Meh, he's not much more dangerous here than out there." Harry explained. "He is just as capable of leading the war here while far away as present. Fast communication makes that rather easy. All his presence equates to is the Death Eaters having one more fighter. An imposing fighter, but one that won't see battle as often as he needs to command."

Bella and Andy both nodded to his words and Harry coaxed the former off of his lap.

"As for what I'm going to do, I have to go check in on a friend and run an errand with Gringotts." Harry said, kissing his girlfriend goodbye.

A pop of apparition and short trip through the long, uncomfortable rubber tube ride later and he was standing in front of the Marchbanks home. Alastor came running out moments later.

"I realize you have the uncanny ability to appirate in through my wards but could you not?!" Alastor complained. "They ring like a gong every time you do.

Harry couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising at that.

Usually when he befriended the "kami" of a home or place that is warded they would allow him free access. After all, it's not everyday a house meets somebody that can talk to them, or more accurately bothered to listen to them. So he was rather good at making friends with them. Except Hogwarts herself. She always liked to remain aloof and unattached.

When he did take advantage of coming as he pleased to a Kami who liked him it didn't usually alert the owner. Alastor must be a rather talented and wise wizard indeed if his home loves him so much as to give him warnings despite the wards being circumvented.

"I'll avoid doing that in the future." Harry promised. "But seeing you march out here without so much as a cain answers the question I came here to ask."

He motioned to his relatively unbandaged body as if he were a prize pony on display.

"I'm looking to be fit and ready for Hogwarts midterms." Alastor confirmed. "But is it wise to leave this place less defended while... he's back inside of Britain's borders?"

Harry waved off these concerns with a dismissive motion.

"He's not going to go right for the jugular and burn the whole country down." Harry explained. "He's dramatic, he likes to take things slow. He won't make his major move until Halloween at the soonest. Then things'll be nice and quiet until late spring."

Alastor looked at him skeptically but must have decided it wasn't worth the headache of having Harry explain his knowledge of Voldemort's plan. This was wise, as Harry would have surely responded with spirit fingers and a declaration of his status as a "psychic!".

"So. As you can clearly see I am fit as a fiddle. Did you want something? " Marchbanks asked.

"If all goes well this Friday, then I wanted you to join me and Tufty's crew of old ladies next Saturday." Harry said cheerly.

"Friday?" Marchbanks asked curiously.

Harry looked at him disappointedly.

"First full moon for Professor Morrigan's Werewolf Sanctuary. Just have to go finish registering at Gringotts and get everything ready with the volunteers and we will be ready. Finally."



Voldemort popped back into existence in the Malfoy gardens with a sigh. Nearly two days unconscious in that cave after reabsorbing his Horcrux was not a pleasant nap to reawaken from. Nor was dragging himself back out of the cave his best morning to date.

The defenses were still up and running and anybody foolish enough to go in there looking for trouble would certainly find it, but that still left him with the need of a good meal and better company. A quick application of hygiene charms and he was presentable for the blonde patriarch running down to meet him now.

"I realize you have the uncanny ability to appirate in through my wards but could you not?!" Lucius complained. "They ring like a gong every time you do."

Voldemort laughed whole-heartedly at the man's irreverent greeting and reached out to invite the man in for a hug. His godson accepted and they shared a quick embrace.

"Lucius, you are the spitting image of Abraxan. If he were still alive, I'm sure he would be proud of what you've accomplished with your investments and politicking." Voldemort said to the younger man.
Lucius simpered under the praise but hid it better than most.

"It is good to see you again my Lord." Lucius said honestly. "Why return now? Where have you been these past five years?"

"Ah, questions, questions and more questions. If we are going to have a fireside story hour then let us do it properly, as we used to when you were a miniscule creature." Voldemort instructed. "Take me inside and have a platter of treats prepared."

And thus, Voldemort executed his diabolical plan to mooch a free, high-end meal off of his godson. That the trip also allowed for him to complete another errand was pure happenstance.

Lucius readily agreed and led him into the entrance hall where Narcissa stood leaning upon one of the many black marble pillars. She looked none too pleased. Lucius somehow didn't notice.

"Lucius, while you go order those entrees could you also retrieve my old school diary. The one I left in your care?" Voldemort asked. "I promise I have no further ulterior motives to my visit beyond that, some food and catching up."

Lucius glanced between him and his wife, noted the slight animosity in the air, then gave Voldemort an inquisitive look. What little got past the man's occlumency barriers told Voldemort that the man actually feared the two might fight. And further feared he might kill Narcissa if they came to blows.

He almost laughed aloud at that.

"Have you ever seen me be anything OTHER than a gentleman to a lady?" Voldemort egged. "Whether she was agreeable or in a right state?"

Lucius seemed unsure of himself but must have realize that whatever altercation about to occur there wouldn't turn out differently whether he was present or not. He left them in peace.

They listened as the sound of his footsteps receded before breaking out into a fit of subdued laughter.
"Was he actually worried about leaving me alone with you?" Narcissa said in disbelief.

"Hush now Narcissa. He lives under the delusion that he is the only godchild my Hogwarts peers left with me. Now, before you lay bare what has you upset with me, I do believe I'm owed a hug." Voldemort commanded, and Narcissa complied.

She released him with a sigh then glanced at his frame with a frown.

"You seem... peckish." She said with hidden concern.

"Haven't eaten in two days. And before that I had a spot of food poisoning." He explained.

His brain couldn't come up with a better euphemism for "drinking water from an inferi-infested underground lake after consuming a class E regulated potion." Food poisoning rolled off the tongue better.

"Now. Your complaints?" Voldemort prodded.

"I don't complain!" Narcissa said defensively. "I'm a wife and mother now. I nag. And I'm going to nag you about your little stunt on the harbor."

"Ah." Voldemort said in understanding.

"Ah? Just ah?" Narcissa prodded.

"Yes ma'am. Just ah." Voldemort said cheekily.

He could tell her that he had initially planned on making a more subdued reappearance. That he had planned to stun whatever customs Aurors came to annoy him and pilfer their brains for any useful info followed by an obliviate. He could even tell her that within their minds he discovered that the two of them abused their position to further abuse human trafficking victims who came to British shores.
That man and woman team of serial rapists needed making an example of. And so, he made the example. As he had done to many Death Eaters over the years who used the power he gave them for similar atrocities. No need for apologies or explanations. His burden. His crime. He didn't need to ruin Narcissa's day with it.

"So, you're just going to leave me angry with no explanation or apology?" Narcissa clarified.

"Right in one, child. Now, I do believe we have some catching up to be getting on with." Voldemort sidestepped her feigned anger.

She sighed in surrender before - without provocation - grasping him by the arm and walking him through the doors of her home.

Was it really any wonder why he preferred the company of the pureblood families to the rifraff he usually had to deal with? Beautiful, wonderful smelling women who would lead you on a tour of their remodeled home while hanging on your arm in that way that brings to the surface all of your masculine pride.

"How has Draco been since I last saw him? I hope my little lesson about being more likeable and forming bonds between houses got through?" He asked as he noted the changes in drapery and furniture from his last he visited.

Suede? She must trust Draco and his friends not to ruin it now that he's older. Narcissa positively beamed at him, and thus began her cooing over her son.

"Ooooh yes. He leads the study group for his year and is always neck in neck with the Muggleborn girl I told you about."

"Grinder?" Voldemort asked, trying to remember.

"Granger! Come now, that should be easy enough to remember. Especially for you, mister "I almost quit the wizarding world after OWL year to go live the peaceful life of a lonesome farmer"."

He never should have told her that story. She misinterpreted it as him having a romanticized vision of rural life. When really it was just that by the age of sixteen he was already so fed up with the world that fucking off into the wilderness or homestead seemed more palatable than schooling, career or marriage. It was a difficult concept to explain to any woman, one of those sex divides. So, he didn't bother.

Grover Rookwood on the other hand? Unlike him, that classmate actually went through with their plans to fuck off into the woods and never be seen again. You had to admire a man who could live through multiple wars, recessions and a technological revolution without noticing any changes in their day-to-day life. He ought to check up on him sometime. He was short on living friends from back then. The department of mysteries should be grateful that his son decided to be part of society.

"And is this Granger girl formidable?" Voldemort asked.

"Formidable? Hah! Highest in her year, I have it on good authority that Lily Potter is eyeing her as a potential apprentice." Narcissa went on.

Ah yes. That infernal redhead. Possibly the most brilliant mind in Britain below the age of sixty. Taking on a proper apprentice and lead them to a mastery was the only way for a lady like herself to achieve the status of "Madame." The highest educational title, above even mastery, that a witch can be bequeathed.

Honestly? She deserved it. Shame she was never particularly receptive to his offers to join him. Killing her would be grandparents in-law in that skirmish years earlier might have had something to do with it. But when facing TWO veteran lieutenants of Dumbledore's war with Grindelwald even a man of Voldemort's combat abilities had to take the gloves off and go all out. Unfortunately, when he does, people die.

"So, what really brings you back to your motherland?" Narcissa pressed.

"Quite a lot actually." Voldemort said honestly. "Partly to undo some magic I experimented with in my youth that has turned out to be a mistake. Partly to check in on my loved ones and how our war of attrition has affected them. But the biggest factor is that I have some new talent to investigate and possibly recruit."

Narcissa let go of his arm and turned to glare at him.

"My son is not a warrior, and never will be." She said with the conviction as if she were stating that the sun would surely rise tomorrow and even he couldn't prevent it.

She was right.

"No, he will not. Nor will I be marking any more children." Voldemort confessed. "I'm loath to speak poorly of the dead, but it was my generation that set out on this war. And your parents, all of your parents, made their oaths with me and had no right to force them upon you. I regret letting them. One way or another this war will be over before your son graduates Hogwarts. This war has already lasted one generation too long, it won't drag onto another. I will still recruit them, but not mark them nor put them in the fray."

She held a hand to her chest, visibly taken aback by his declaration. It was bold, even for him, but it was also true. He was close to no longer caring which side won or lost. Like most people he was tired of the fighting. And the things he has seen in his extended travels, and the changes he was experiencing now that he'd reabsorbed not one, but two horcruxes... he was changing, and that scared him, but after his encounter with that being he welcomed it.

"And these individuals you wish to recruit?" Narcissa pressed further.

"Not so much recruit as investigate." Voldemort admitted. "There are some youth, like this Granger girl and her friend Romulus, not to mention your niece, who show great talent and you know how I so desire to see talent fully realized."

Narcissa nodded.

"If what you say about Lily scouting her is correct, then Granger seems to be well on her way, and that Mad-Eye has taken young Nymphadora under his wing is better than anything I could have hoped for. Did you know that his father was in Slytherin in my year?"

"Really?!"

"Oh yes. The only person who consistently mopped the floor with me on the dueling pit. Alastor is certainly his son. If he had my years under his belt, and my health, he would be a match to me in a straight up fight." He explained. "But only just, and not a match in any of my other persuits."
Narcissa gave him a skeptical look but shrugged and motioned for him to continue.

"Aside from that I need to go speak with Mrs Marchbanks, the very old one, regarding her son. Don't be surprised if the next time you see me after visiting her I have a black eye. It wouldn't be the first time." He said. "Griselda is a monster, and she might not look it, but you don't live longer than Dumbledore AND work in higher magical education for over a century without learning quite a bit that's beyond even me."

Narcissa seemed much less skeptical of that claim. Which was hilarious seeing as he was lying through his teeth. He just respected the woman as a person too much to ever raise his wand against her. Her son on the other hand? He owed him a thorough thrashing. Then again, he had come out as the lesser-scathed in that encounter. So maybe he ought to call it even?

"There's also this Hadrian Marchbanks fellow." Voldemort went on. "I've been hearing conflicting reports, but apparently he's caused quite a few waves. Some of them very positive for our community, well all of them really, but some also not great for my crusade. I'm very eager to meet him. If all goes well, he will be my final marked Death Eater."

Narcissa made a very unladylike snort at that proclamation and when Voldemort looked at her questioningly, she broke down into a full fit of giggles. Before he could question her Lucius returned, carrying his long-lost journal.

He made to offer it, but Voldemort stopped him.

"Lucius, we taught you better than that." Voldemort chastised. "You NEVER touch a cursed or enchanted object with your bare hands nor offer it to somebody without properly containing it."

Lucius blanched before withdrawing a silk handkerchief - the ideal material for handling cursed objects and likely on Lucius' person specifically for picking up such items - and wrapped the book in it. This time Voldemort did take it from him.

"It never caused any issues, and I couldn't find out much about it with what examinations I did." Lucius said.

"You wouldn't. I was very thorough in concealing its true nature. And while it wasn't meant to ever harm you it... might be debilitating to the point of death to me if I touch it with my bare hands." Voldemort said.

It was rare to see the Malfoy patriarch with such a shocked expression. It was the truth too, if not the whole truth. For within the diary contained a whole half of his soul, whereas he currently held barely more than a quarter. He dared not try and reincorporate the diary until he retrieved the remaining three. When he had a whole half of his soul restored, he would then risk the merging.

As it was now, he risked the sixteen-year-old version of himself in the diary overpowering and subsuming him. Or else annihilate him like the soul fragment from the ring returning to him through the void had very nearly done.

Finding out who destroyed it and making them suffer would have to wait.

And that ring only contained one quarter of his soul. The locket had a mere one thirty second and it still almost bodied him. He'd go for the diademnext, with it's much more manageable one eighth, and work his way down. Then he'd have little to fear from the diary.

Shame the diary and ring were the only ones on this continent.

But for now, he'd keep it on his person.

"Can we expect you to stay home this time?" Lucius pleaded.

Voldemort looked up.

"Unlikely." He said honestly. "It'll take a week, maybe two, to accomplish what I have planned. Although there is a chance..."

He trailed off. He'd become much more talkative and honest lately. A side effect of regaining his soul?
"What can we do to make you feel welcome enough, godfather of ours?" Narcissa pleaded.

"Oh yes matchmaker." Lucius chided. "What could convince you to stay?"

Were they really trying the puppy dog eyes on him? Those hadn't worked since before they both started at Hogwarts.

"Well those d'oeuvres would be a good start." Voldemort teased. "But more seriously I've been told that Bella has... mellowed out since I left. Lost her obsession with me along with her, how to say, ouster that scared me away last time. I've mellowed out a bit myself and expect to further mellow out a great deal more, so it may be time to try and reignite that flame."

When he returned from the daydreams that spirited him away as he spoke it was to discover the couple looking more uncomfortable than the day, he introduced them hoping to spark a courtship.(One of his greatest successes to date.) He felt the bottom of his stomach drop out and a jealous rage boil up in its place.

"What?" He growled. "Has something happened to her?"

Lucius coughed uncomfortably.

"Well, you were right to think she's lost her obsession with you. From what conversations I've had with her lately that ship has certainly sailed." Lucius said almost jokingly.

Voldemort did not appreciate the joke, even if he wasn't in on it.

"It's funny actually." Narcissa commented to her husband. "He just brought up mister Morrigan on a completely unrelated note before your return."

"Morrigan?" Voldemort asked. "What does Hadrian Morrigan have to do with my precious Bella?"
He wasn't happy when they answered. Partly because they couldn't stop giggling like school children the entire time they gave it, and partly because of the sudden - expensive - changes to his plans the news forced upon him.



Harry exited Gringotts bank to the crisp evening air of Diagon Alley. The goofy grin on his face made it almost seem like he hadn't just spent ten hours in a shouting match with five generations of the Shmicklehook family and a good dozen other goblins and ministry officials.

And the reason for the grin? Because those ten hours resulted in them all accomplishing the job at hand. Professor Morrigan's Werewolf Sanctuary was officially certified, funded and licensed to operate by every standard that mattered! And in his hands he held the finished registration form and the golden seal upon it.

He held it up to the dim light of the setting sun and kissed it. And as if to accentuate his happiness an eagle high above roared in that way eagles do. It matched the feeling in his chest.

He took a deep breath and stretched is magical senses as he pocketed the piece of parchment and descended the front steps of the now closing bank. He felt the smooth surface of every stone beneath his feet, every leaf of the well-trimmed weeds trying desperately to rise up through the cracks of said stone and every crevice of the hand grenade that the hideous Hispanic woman just lobbed at him from behind the pillar he just walked past.

It was actually a fine piece of enchantment. A full Aztec runic array for the expansion and containment charms to hold whatever substance she had filled it with. From the feeling of what little was already escaping from the device. It was certainly part dragon gizzard fluid - a rather igniteable substance - mixed with... was that napalm?

KABOOM!

Yup. definitely napalm. Who in their right mind mixes napalm with dragon gizzard fluid?! Somebody with a death wish or murderous intent. Likely both.

Anyways he managed to morph the stone beneath him into a shell above him, but failed to account for how little earth actually separated the streets of Diagon alley and the cavernous goblin-made tunnels below and thus he found himself tumbling into the bowels of London where sewage from the Muggle world and runoff from the deeper levels of the bank mixed into a disgusting sludge.

The current took him a little ways before he caught his bearings and lifted himself up onto a ledge.
His assailant followed him down, along with some companions, and he got to his feet just in time to see them manage a much more dignified landing. In part to them cooperatively transfiguring the filth beneath them into solid earth combined with their use of the arresto momentum spell. Dead useful. He really ought to remember to use it kore often.

And so he finally got a good look at them.

The hispanic woman, scarred with burns and gashes from what he surmised was a lifetime of magical tomb raiding - She looked the curse breaker type - was flanked by a filipino man that gave Harry serious Mad-Eye Moody vibes and a blonde man with an automatic Ak47 slung on one shoulder.
Bounty hunters? Assassins? Both?

It didn't take many guesses to figure out who sent them, what confused him was the why. He was certain Voldemort would at least seek him out and try to recruit him before SENDING A FUCKING HIT SQUAD AFTER HIM!

Well, not yet at least.

Oh. The eagle he heard earlier just flew down the hole to join the trio. Scratch that, he was an animagi, now a pissed off Cheroke-looking motherfucker built like a pile of bricks stood with the others.
What had changed? Why was Voldemort turning the war hot? And why weren't those Kappa in the water attacking yet?


AN: These are not the team from Bungle in the Jungle. They're the terrorists from The Lie I've Lived. If you have read both, which you should, you know the difference.


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Lucius glanced between him and his wife, noted the slight animosity in the air, then gave Voldemort an inquisitivelook. What little got past the man's occlumency berries told Voldemort that the man actually feared the two might fight. And further feared he might kill Narcissa if they came to blows.

Barrier*
 
Damn I'm really liking this Voldemort. Is it weird I'm kind of hoping he and Harry can work out their differences. In a more peaceful manner?

Though I wouldn't mind Harry being all rabid "kill Voldemort!" While Tom is just "dude, the wars over, I'm retired. Lay off. The hell did I even do to you?"
 
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