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Chapter Text

Harry’s eyes widened and his breaths turned into short, shallow gasps as his Defence Against the Dark Arts professor’s body writhed and contorted under the influence of the moon.  Every memory of when he crept into the lounge room to sneakily watch the horror movies that Dudley would beg Aunt Petunia to buy rushed into the thirteen-year-old’s mind all at once.

Acting on impulse, Harry ran over to Ron and Hermione as Sirius bolted over to Remus and tried to restrain him while reminding Professor Lupin of the person that he was.  Even as Harry hauled Ron to his feet with an arm around his shoulders, Harry knew they couldn’t outrun Lupin in his werewolf form.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Pettigrew’s fearful expression change to one of relief and then anticipation.  Harry knew what he was going to do before the traitor moved.

“Expelliarmus!” Harry uttered as Pettigrew bent to retrieve Lupin’s fallen wand.  The spell caught Pettigrew in the chest and slammed him against a large, grey-pointed rock.  Pettigrew had just enough time to send Harry a betrayed look before he lost consciousness.

Hermione shrieked in terror and Harry felt his heart plummeting as the newly transformed werewolf broke free of Sirius’ embrace and sent him flying away from the three teens.  Harry’s wand trembled in his hand but despite his fear, he readied his wand arm and pointed it at the chest of the loping wolf.

The werewolf growled as he stalked closer and heavy pants slipped past his serrated, ivory teeth as he relished the sight of the injured and fearful humans.  The one who was pointing a stick at him seemed to be the leader.  There was a faint pressure at the back of Moony’s mind that was urging him to leave the humans alone and run into the forest but it had been so long since Moony had had a good hunt and so, with barely any effort, Moony ignored the pressure and continued moving forward.

Noticing that his Defence Professor was advancing despite the threat of Harry pointing his wand at him, Harry cast the Disarming Spell again, purposefully aiming for the grass in front of the werewolf’s feet.  The spell slammed into the ground and the werewolf recoiled, snarling in anger.  When he realised the spell hadn’t connected with him, the werewolf bared his teeth at Harry.

Harry’s breathing turned ragged and he raised his wand again.

“Don’t make me do this!”  He begged in his thoughts, “If I’m hurt because I try to defend us against our professor, there’ll be no one to protect Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Pettigrew, and Snape.”

His mind flashed back to his previous year when he was in the Chamber of Secrets and when Fawkes came to his rescue against the teenaged version of Voldemort.

“FAWKES!” He screamed, feeling his throat become raw, “HELP ME PLEASE!”

The werewolf paused in his attack.  The sudden shout had startled him and the pressure at the back of his mind returned.  This time it was stronger and more persuasive, and Moony fell to all four legs.  He had just taken a step back when the air changed and a multicoloured cyclonic cocoon of energy slammed into the ground between the werewolf and the humans.

Moony’s head dropped and he let out a defeated whine.  Although the werewolf was influenced by the energy from the moon coursing through him, he knew his hunt was at an end.  His sense of smell registered the presence of another magical human.  This magical human was an adult who would protect the pups from him.

Moony backed away slowly, keeping his gaze on the dewy, green grass as an act of submission.  Between the influence of his human in his mind and the new arrival standing directly in front of him, Moony wanted nothing more than to run away from this place with his tail between his legs.

A crack startled him and his head snapped upwards.  There was another human that was making his way to the group.  Moony could taste his anger and smell the blood dripping from his hairline.  The human was still a fair distance away from the group and Moony felt the thrill of the hunt overcome him once more.

Moony settled into a crouch and then using the strength in his clenched muscles, he leaped forwards.  Midway into his lunge, he felt something strike him in the torso.  His limbs stopped responding and Moony had just enough time to understand that the magical adult standing between him and the pups was holding a stick like the pup with the messy dark brown hair.  Then Moony fell to the ground in an immobile heap and he fell into a void where no light from the moon could reach him.

Chapter Text

“Your arrival can only be described as incredibly timely,” the Headmaster of Hogwarts concluded once you had finished your explanation regarding how you found yourself standing between three terrified teens and one adult werewolf.

The portkey that you had created (“Illegally” the Potions Master of Hogwarts had sneered; seriously, you would’ve thought that he would have been more grateful since it was your spell that had stopped the Defence Professor turned werewolf from completing his attack) had taken the rather mismatched group of people directly into the Headmaster’s office.

If your sudden appearance in his office perturbed the Headmaster, there was no indication of it on his face.  Out of a mixture of curiosity and disinterest in the conversation, you observed your surroundings as one of the teens explained her side of the story.  Your gaze fell on an assortment of mismatched devices that sat atop the Headmaster’s desk.  Occasionally, they would let out puffs of white smoke or hum quietly.

The longer you stared at those objects, the more a sense of unease began to build in your gut.  You had encountered different types of monitoring devices throughout your career as a goblin liaison and the devices that sat on the desk looked as if they were a mix of every monitoring device that you had ever seen at once.

“And that’s when…I am so sorry, I don’t know your name.”

You smiled at the teen; she seemed genuine enough to cause you to reevaluate your opinions of the people of Magical Britain.

“We didn’t exactly have time for introductions, did we?”  You questioned rhetorically, “I’m (Name).”

“Thank you for saving us.  I’m Ron Weasley,” the red-haired, tall teen introduced himself before pointing to the brunet, bespectacled teen on his right, “That’s Harry Potter, and” he pointed to the girl who had explained the circumstances that resulted in the group of you being in the middle of the Headmaster’s office “that’s Hermione Granger.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you inclined your head.  “Now, if you could please direct me to the exit of the school, I’ll be on my way.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.  I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts.  Standing next to the exit of this office is Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts.  Standing near the window is Sirius Black and the man in chains is Peter Pettigrew.  Remus Lupin is the name of the man you encountered in his werewolf form and he is currently in the Hospital Wing unconscious.  As for your desire to leave, I am afraid you cannot leave Hogwarts alone.”

You closed your eyes, counted to ten, and reopened them, “And why is that?”

“There is a magical bond connecting you and young Mr. Potter.  When he called out for assistance, Magic took him literally and sent him the person most likely protect him to the best of their ability much like a magical parent would support their child.”

“BUT I’VE GOT SIRIUS NOW!” Harry exploded, “Why would I want another adult, who doesn’t know me at all, to tell me what I can and can’t do?”

He swayed alarmingly on his feet and without conscious thought, you stepped forwards ready to catch him if he were to fall.  He steadied himself by grabbing onto the Headmaster’s desk and for a moment the smoke changed from white to a vivid red. 

“The smoke didn’t change colours once when Hermione was recounting her story and there were definitely times when the story was emotionally charged.  Why would the Headmaster have a device that monitors the emotions of just one student?”

“Your godfather cannot look after you until he has been cleared by the Wizengamot.”  Dumbledore replied regretfully.

Harry spun to face his godfather, “Is that true?”  He demanded.

Unwillingly, Sirius nodded.

“So that conversation we had before Lupin transformed was what?  Leading me on?  A lie?”  Harry snapped bitingly.  “I just have to go back to the Dursleys as if nothing has happe—”

His eyes rolled up in his head and this time when he swayed, he did fall forwards.  Fortunately for the teen, you hadn’t moved from when you had moved forwards earlier and you were able to catch him before he hit the floor.

“You mentioned a Hospital Wing.  Would anyone be so kind as to direct me there?” Your voice was clipped and strained as you supported the unconscious teen.  Part of your brain registered that he felt abnormally light.

“I guess that happy task falls to me,” Severus Snape said distastefully.  “Follow me.”  He swept out of the office.

“Well isn’t he Mr-Warm-And-Fuzzy,” you quipped under your breath as you accompanied the man.

As you left the office, you could have sworn that you heard a chuckle that was poorly disguised as a cough and a bark-like laugh.

Chapter Text

Your escort departed as soon as you reached the entrance to the Hospital Wing.  “What has Mr. Potter done this time?”  The Hogwarts Medi-Witch sighed in exasperation as you gently placed him on a bed far away from the other occupant of the Hospital Wing.  You wanted to give yourself as much time to react as possible just in case the moon surprised everyone in the Hospital Wing by giving the Defence Professor a sudden boost of energy before the sun took its place in the sky.

You paused for a moment after your mind registered that thought.  Was that the magical bond affecting you already?  Urging yourself to focus on the present, you answered the Medi-Witch’s question.

“He found out he has a new magical guardian and before that, he discovered the truth about the betrayal that resulted in his parents’ death.  If that wasn't enough, he watched his Defence Professor turn into a werewolf in front of his very eyes.  And that’s just tonight.”

“Mr. Potter finds his way here every year.”  She tutted.

You frowned deeply, “And you’ve never noticed how light he is compared to the rest of his peers?”

She drew herself up to her full height, “Are you insulting my capabilities as a Healer?”

Knowing you had to tread carefully here you weighed each word before you spoke, “I would never dream of insulting you in such a manner and I apologise for any offence my words have caused.  When I was escorting him to you, I noticed that he was very light.  He passed out in the Headmaster’s office after ranting about returning to his guardians.”

The start of your speech had placated the other witch but your explanation resulted in a furrowed brow and a concerned gleam in her eye.  She stepped over to Harry with her wand drawn and you blocked her path.

“It’s a simple diagnostic charm,” she assured you.

You changed your position so that she could cast the charm without accidentally striking you in the process.  Once she had finished casting the charm, a ding sounded and a piece of parchment appeared in her other hand.

The Medi-Witch lost all colour in her face and with a trembling hand, she handed the parchment over to you.  Feeling as if you were about to hold the weight of Harry’s soul, you reluctantly accepted the parchment and what you saw on the parchment had your hand going immediately numb.

“He’s in the thirtieth percentile when it comes to his weight.”  You breathed, “That…It’s appalling.  There’s no other way to describe it.  The amount of health risks associated with being that undernourished...”

The older witch swallowed, “It is lucky for Mr. Potter that you brought him here when you did.  His malnutrition can be corrected by a potions regime that he must take daily until he returns to Hogwarts next year.”

You cast a look at the teen on the bed, “In regard to his appetite, what would you suggest?  Too much food too soon will just make him sicker and his body won’t be able to cope with the added amount of food.”

“Give him small meals frequently, choose foods he likes, incorporate healthy snacks and ensure he gets plenty of rest.”  The other witch’s tone was businesslike and it took you aback for a moment before you realised that was probably the only way of grounding herself that she had.

She conjured a chair and with prompting, you sat down.  You rested your elbows on your knees and clasped your hands together as you watched Harry.  “Do the potions taste nice at least?”  You murmured.

“Much like the Wolfsbane Potion, sugar renders them useless,” the Medi-Witch groaned regretfully.  “They have no taste on their own and in the past, parents have added these potions to their children’s drinks.”

“Something tells me that will not be an option for Harry,” you sighed.

The Medi-Witch grimaced but reached out a hand and rested it on your shoulder, “You’re going to be a great parent to him.  Magic wouldn’t have brought the two of you together if you weren’t the best fit for Harry Potter.”

Chapter Text

“Nice place,” Harry grunted as you levitated his trunk across the threshold.

“Thank you.”  You replied, “Just let me put your trunk down and I’ll give you the tour.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest, “Why?”  He inquired sullenly, “It’s not like I’m gonna be here for long anyway.  Soon as Sirius is cleared, I’m gonna live with him.”

You set his trunk down in the middle of the lounge room with a quiet thud and braced yourself for an explosion, “Do you—” Your mouth felt incredibly dry but you forced yourself to continue speaking, “Harry, I don’t think it’s going to be that simple.”

“Why?” Harry demanded hotly.

“Because Sirius was in Azkaban for twelve years and that kind of ordeal leaves a mark on a person.”

“So what?  You’re saying that I’m stuck here for longer than I thought?  That’s just great!”  Harry stomped up the stairs and you heard the slamming of a door.

“That went well.  He’s definitely got the angsty teenager act down pat.” 

Leaving his trunk alone, you stepped into the kitchen.  It didn’t take long for you to create a toasted cheese sandwich for him with a glass of water – you had asked Poppy if Harry had any allergies you needed to be aware of.  She had informed you that he didn’t.

Placing those two items on a tray along with one of the nutrient potions Poppy had given you, you ascended the stairs, placed the tray at the foot of the door, and knocked once before retreating down the stairs.

Later in the afternoon, when you were finishing off your notes from your last job, your ears picked up the sounds of tentative footsteps.  Forcing yourself to remain focused on your notes, you didn’t look up as the footsteps grew louder and louder.

It was only when Harry cleared his throat that you looked up from your task, “I wanted to return this but I don’t know the way to the kitchen.”

“I’ll show you,” you offered as you put your notes to the side.

Harry was silent as you conducted a brief tour and when you reached the kitchen, he set the tray down on the sink and began unloading it.  You stopped him with a quiet question and Harry’s shoulders slumped.

“I thought because of the way I’d acted that I wouldn’t be eating for at least a few days and I wanted to do something to show that I’m sorry so Hedwig and I can keep getting food.  Madame Pomfrey told me that I needed the nutrient potions daily as well so I didn’t want to give you any excuse to withhold them.”

The casual way that he delivered those sentences had goosebumps forming on your arms and your blood running cold. 

“Harry,” you said sternly.  “Withholding food or sustenance is not punishment, it’s abuse.  You will never have to worry about that with me.”

You could see that he wasn’t entirely convinced by your words.  “What kinds of food does Hedwig like?”

Harry hesitated but eventually revealed that she, like other owls you had encountered, preferred to catch her prey which was usually mice.  However, she wouldn’t say no to bacon or water.

“If Pettigrew had escaped and I still ended up here, I would have seriously considered sending Hedwig after him,” Harry muttered.

You chuckled and the teen brightened considerably.  There was a hoot and the beautiful white owl that had travelled with you from King’s Cross glided into the room.  She flew into the space that separated you from Harry and with rhythmic beats of her wings, she hovered in the air and fixed you with an unblinking amber gaze.

After a few moments, she let out a satisfied bark and flapped over onto Harry’s shoulder.  Perching herself there, she buried her head under her wing.

“I assume that means I’ve passed her test?”

Harry nodded.

“What do you do as a job?”

You tipped your head to the side, “I’m a goblin liaison.”

“What’s that?  Do you work with the Ministry?”

You shook your head, “No.  The goblins wouldn’t trust me to the extent they do if I worked alongside the Ministry.  I maintain links between the various goblin clans in Wizarding Britain and occasionally, I interact with other magical entities on the goblin’s behalf.”

“D’you think they know a way to make the nutrient potions taste better?  Cause they had such a bland taste.”  Harry pulled a face.

“You can put them in drinks and it won’t affect the nutritional content of the potion.”

“Oh,”  Harry murmured sheepishly.

You fixed the teen with a critical look, “Harry, didn’t you learn about that from the introductory guide?”

He dropped his eyes to the floor, “Nope.  Never got one of those when I went with Hagrid.” He muttered.

“I think I know where mine is.  It’s broken up into different sections such as Potions, Transfiguration, Beast Speech, Spell Casting, Hierarchies, and History and Heritage.  Wait here and I’ll be back.”

As you searched for the guide, the feeling of unease that you had in Dumbledore’s office returned.  Despite you not attending Hogwarts, you were ninety percent sure that this guide was required reading for at least two-thirds of the magical societies across the world.  Why then had Harry not received it?  Were there other students at Hogwarts who hadn’t received this guide and were suffering as a result?

You were so lost in your thoughts that you walked into a box and sent it tumbling to the ground.  Biting back a curse, you bent down and as you were repacking the box, you found the book you were searching for.

“Here you go Harry,” you said once you returned to where you’d left him.

Harry accepted the book nervously, “I’ll read it as quickly as I can and give it back to you.”  He vowed.

You shook your head, “No need.  That book’s yours for as long as you need it.  You might find yourself referring to it more often than you think.”

“But the Dursleys—” Harry cut himself off.

You narrowed your eyes, “Seems like I need to have another chat with the Dursleys.”

Laughter bubbled up out of Harry’s throat, “I think you terrified them when you met them at King’s Cross.”

“Mr and Mrs. Dursley.”  You greeted Harry’s aunt and uncle, “My name is (Name) (Surname).  Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Harry observed Uncle Vernon swelling up much like Aunt Marge did after she had insulted his mum and dad in the summer holidays before he had attended Hogwarts for his third year.  Aunt Petunia laid a hand on Uncle Vernon’s arm after sending a resentful look in Harry’s direction.  At his wife’s touch, Harry’s uncle deflated a little.  This may have been partially because there were other people present and you were wearing very nice Muggle clothing by the Dursleys’ standards.

“Whatever you have to say about our nephew, you can say it here!”

“Very well.  At the end of term, an incident unfolded at” your eyes met Harry’s and somehow you understood his non-verbal message that mentioning Hogwarts wouldn’t go over well, “Harry’s school and guardianship of Harry has been transferred over to me for the foreseeable future.”

Despite his anger at the situation he found himself in, his longing to live with Sirius, and his anger at Snape for forcing the only competent DADA teacher that Harry had had out of Hogwarts, Harry had to hand it to you; you definitely had a way with words.

“And this is recognised by his…world and the normal one?” Aunt Petunia demanded shrilly.

There was a pause and Harry’s gaze snapped to you.  Your lips were pursed and your eyes had a harsh light in them, “Harry will be staying with me for the foreseeable future.”  You repeated with a guarded tone, “He deserves a place that he can call home and I would never dream of isolating him from the world he belongs to.”

“We did that for our…his own good!”

Your tone turned steely, “I wish you a good day Mr and Mrs Dursley.  The only thing you have to concern yourselves with is the fact that Harry will be well looked after while he resides with me.”

You stretched your arms out in front of you, “I can assure you, Harry, that the goblins I work alongside most frequently are far more persuasive than I am.  Had they been the ones to meet your aunt and uncle, they would have demanded compensation for their time and the Dursleys would have handed it over without thinking twice.”

Harry snickered, “What if they put up a fight and tried to argue that they were my legal guardians in the Muggle world?”

“Then the goblins would have meticulously destroyed their public image regardless of whether there were witnesses or not.”

“Even though the goblins weren’t with us at the station, can we have that as an option?”  Harry inquired with a grin.

Chapter Text

It was fair to say that you and Harry fell into a rhythm fairly easily.  Following some negotiations, Harry would do the dishes after dinner every night and cook with supervision one day on the weekend.

Hedwig was allowed to come and go as she pleased and every time she had a successful hunt, she brought it to you and Harry proudly as if to show the both of you how effective a hunter she was.

During the first week of Harry's living with you, he revealed one night at dinner in an undertone that he had sent Sirius a letter before the end of the school year about living with him once his name was cleared.  He hadn’t heard back from Sirius yet.

Due to the nutrient potions and regular meals, Harry was beginning to look healthier.  Living in Magical Britain had its benefits and Harry took full advantage of the fact that he was now able to fly on his broom in the afternoons.  When you discovered that Harry’s birthday was on July 31, you bought him a cake and he spent the whole day flying on his Firebolt.  The happiness on his face, as he flew around the grassy area, told you that this was the best birthday he had had in a long time.  That thought made you content and angry at the same time.

So when the day came for you and Harry to visit Diagon Alley early in August on a warm, sunny day, neither of you had the slightest inkling that the visit was going to drastically change your lives.

The Alley was bustling with witches and wizards walking in every direction.  Before you left for the Alley, Harry had informed you that his scar was hurting due to a nightmare that he’d had the previous night.  When you asked him if this had ever happened before, he had explained to you that his scar hurting was a warning that danger was coming.  You promised him that your first stop in Diagon Alley would be Gringotts and that they would be able to help him – you had yet to be let down by the goblins’ vast knowledge resources.

The two of you had nearly reached the stone steps that led to Gringotts when a group of wizards walked between the two of you.  Still believing that Harry was behind you, you were halfway into the entrance hall when dread settled over you.  You turned around to see that Harry was nowhere in sight.

Dodging customers and murmuring apologies when you collided with someone, you sped back to the entrance of the bank.  Your eyes frantically scanned the Alley for any sign of messy dark brown hair, glasses, or a blue t-shirt with time-faded jeans.  Dread gave way to outright panic when you couldn’t find any sign of Harry.

Desperately, your hand scrabbled for your wand and you breathlessly uttered a point me spell while focusing on a mental image of Harry.  Initially, your wand tip lit up with magic but seconds later, the light spluttered and died.

“No. No. No.” You breathed in terror as the reality sunk in.

Harry Potter had vanished from Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

Seven days before the end of Harry’s third year, Jackson Goyle strode into the British Ministry of Magic with a neutral expression that concealed his feelings of extreme distaste for Wizarding Britain.  The only reason his mask didn’t slip or falter was due to the amount of practice he had wearing it.

His dislike of Wizarding Britain stemmed from the treatment he endured at the hands of his father, Gregory Goyle Senior.  For a while, everything was fine.  Jackson had a mother and a father and he was the heir to the Goyle family.  Then his brother was born and things went downhill from there.

Not because of his brother, oh no.  Each patriarch of the Sacred 28 had a familial spell that they would cast when their child was born and this spell would determine the magical power of the child.

When Jackson had finally been allowed to see his mother, the ten-year-old had bounded into the room was such enthusiasm that his mother had chuckled and chided him softly.  He remembered smiling as he gazed at the innocent, chubby face of his brother and his magic had reacted.

Streamers and balloons with the Goyle crest had appeared soundlessly in the room around his mother.  His father had been elated.  But his father’s elation was misplaced.  You see, Gregory Goyle Senior was convinced from that moment on that his youngest son was the rightful heir to the Goyle name.

He boasted of his youngest son’s power and disinherited his original heir on the spot, claiming the Goyle name only needed one heir.  In a heartbeat, Jackson’s world was ripped away from him and everything he held dear vanished.

The ten-year-old was promptly sent to live with distant relatives in the Northern American Muggle world despite the fact that Jackson had magic.  Jackson’s magic became his only companion as his ‘new family’ rarely acknowledged his existence.  As he wasn’t born in the USA, Jackson wasn’t permitted to attend Ilvermorny and so, he adapted to life as a Muggle.  When no one was looking, he would use his magic to remind himself that it hadn’t been a dream and that he still had his gift.

When the wizard was fifteen, he discovered proof that his family wasn’t as good as they portrayed themselves to be.  In his ‘father’s’ study, there were torn pieces of paper with hasty scrawls on them.  Jackson quickly realised that they were loan amounts and with every piece of paper he discovered, the debt only increased.

One day, Jackson came home to find his ‘family’ gasping for air and man standing calmly in the centre of the room watching the event unfold.  The man had introduced himself as Ra’s al Ghul and offered Jackson a choice: continue living beneath his means and capabilities or devote himself to a greater ideal – one that would have even the bravest men trembling in their boots.

Unsurprisingly, Jackson had chosen the second option and with that choice, he disinherited Wizarding Britain.  Years later, only a few people knew his surname and he intended to keep it that way. 

When Ra’s al Ghul sent him back to Wizarding Britain to uncover political alliances and determine how close it was to collapsing on itself, Jackson had not been thrilled with the assignment.  In fact, the adult had to bite his tongue to stop himself from uttering the protests that his brain provided him.

Ra’s al Ghul regarded him with an amused smirk, knowing that his student was controlling his displeasure, and after he had finished explaining the mission, had rewarded Jackson with an approving nod.

It was comically easy to sneak into the Ministry of Magic.  Anyone with magic could enter the Ministry of Magic and no one would bat an eyelid because they were so arrogant and believed that their magic would protect them from any possible threat.  Jackson knew better – his boss possessed several devices which could prevent a witch or wizard from accessing their magic.  Jackson had never mustered the courage to ask what circumstances had led to his boss acquiring them.

Jackson had collected all the information he needed when a man he vaguely recognised bumped into his shoulder.  Sneering at Jackson, the man strode in the opposite direction but not before muttering about being late for the trial of Peter Pettigrew – the man who betrayed the Potters and left Harry Potter an orphan.

That piqued Jackson’s curiosity and figuring forgiveness was better than permission in this circumstance, he pivoted and followed the man into the chambers where the trial was being held.  Along the way, he heard other witches and wizards gossiping about the trial of Sirius Black and how he was interested in applying for guardianship of Harry Potter once his name was cleared.  Jackson thought that was a bit presumptuous of the man but he continued his pursuit of the man who had bumped carelessly into him.

There was no security at the door to the courtroom, so Jackson didn’t have to use any of the methods of concealment that he had perfected under the watchful gaze of his mentor.  Part of Jackson was disappointed; the wizards and witches could’ve at least made it a challenge for him.

Jackson took a seat in the gallery as close to the door as he could without arousing suspicion.  The chatter in the room died down as Pettigrew was brought into the chamber.  It took everything in Jackson not to lean forwards like so many other members of the audience and Wizengamot were.

Pettigrew’s squeaky voice was magically enhanced to float up into the ears of the assembled witches and wizards.  “These people are so dependent on their magic that their entire world would crumble if their magic and birthright were torn away from them.”   Jackson thought scornfully.

When Pettigrew confessed to being the Potter’s Secret Keeper and betraying them to Voldemort, Jackson did lean forward.  The Veritaserum that the Court Official had administered to the wizard forced him to recount how he had hidden with a magical family (the Weasleys) for twelve years and the kind of person Harry Potter was.  Jackson fought a shudder when it was revealed that Pettigrew had used his animagus disguise to observe Harry Potter – his feelings towards Magical Britain notwithstanding, a grown man spying on teens was creepy any way you looked at it.

Then Pettigrew let slip something incredibly interesting.  It appeared that Harry Potter had faced Voldemort at the end of his first and second years at Hogwarts and emerged victorious.  The only reason he had been pushed to act was because of his loyalty to his friends and Hogwarts.

Jackson cocked his head to the side.  To best apparitions of Voldemort twice in a row was an achievement.  Perhaps Harry could become a member of the League of Shadows; he certainly had the will to act that drove his mentor forward.

Following that revelation, the Veritaserum was beginning to wear off and Pettigrew’s sentences dissolved into confused babbling.  As the chains that bound his arms to the arms of the chair released him, Pettigrew stared directly into the Minister’s eyes and mentioned how hurt Lily was when the father whom she had known her entire life decided to spend the day with her half-sister Petunia, instead of attending her wedding.

Dismissing the shocked gasps as unimportant, Jackson left the room.  He had a report to make.

Chapter Text

Three weeks after the trial of Peter Pettigrew, Jackson was still in Wizarding Britain.  Following his report, Ra’s al Ghul had requested that he remain in Wizarding Britain much to the young man’s frustration.

His mentor had been satisfied with the information that Jackson had collected and had given him another task.  Jackson was to bring Harry Potter to the League of Shadows.  Knowing that refusal was not an option, Jackson was left with no choice but to agree and wonder how he was supposed to locate the boy and bring him to the League.

The more Jackson thought about it, the more pieces came together in his mind.  If he used chaos as a distraction, the boy’s magic would react and Jackson would be able to tap into that to take the boy where he needed to go.

All that was left was to locate the boy.  Ra’s al Ghul had been clear that the boy was not to be harmed in any way which Jackson understood; the real test of the boy’s character would be when he was surrounded by members of the League of Shadows and it wouldn’t be a fair test of the boy’s abilities if he were blinded by pain.

If he were successful in joining the League of Shadows, that part of his training would occur later.  While Jackson was waiting for the opportunity to escort Harry Potter away from Magical Britain, he familiarised himself with Diagon Alley.  The place hadn’t changed much from when Jackson had accompanied his biological father into the Alley although he supposed that Magical Britain wasn’t quick to implement changes which is why many of the witches and wizards around the world considered Magical Britain to be behind other magical societies.

Patience was a crucial skill for a member of the League of Shadows yet as the days drew on, Jackson found himself losing his.  Day by day, he was forced to endure every aspect of Wizarding Britain that he disliked.  The assassin had nearly reached the end of his tether on a warm, sunny August day.

Jackson was on his usual stroll through the Alley when he spotted the unmistakable hair and facial features that belonged to Harry Potter.  After all of his anticipation, it was too easy to walk alongside a group of unfamiliar wizards, slip between Harry Potter and the witch he was with, and grab hold of the teen’s arm.

As Jackson expected, the teen’s magic reacted instantly and Jackson was ready.  He influenced the teen’s magic and soundlessly, they disappeared from the Alley.  Due to his connection with the boy, Jackson could feel his fear and for a moment, he wondered how his mother would have reacted if he were in Harry’s position.

Chapter Text

Trembling with fury and feeling his magic sparking under his skin, Harry shoved the adult who had kidnapped him as far as he could.  Infuriatingly, the man didn’t stagger at all, and with an almost sympathetic expression, he faded into the shadows.

Once Harry was certain that he had gone, Harry attempted to examine his surroundings.  That proved difficult as the space he now found himself in was completely shrouded in darkness.  Harry’s breathing spiked.

“You’re not in the cupboard.  You’re not in the cupboard.  You’re not in the cupboard.”  He chanted in his mind in an attempt to steady his breathing and his heart rate.  Although his heartbeat was still faster than normal, the mantra helped his mind to focus on the present.  Harry then remembered the spell that he had been practicing under the cover of his sheets in the night in Dudley’s second bedroom.

He was just about to utter the incantation when a ball of light appeared in the air above his palm.  The result was different from what Harry had conjured in the holidays but he supposed the result was different as he wasn’t holding his wand.

After he’d had that thought, Harry patted his pockets with his free hand, attempting to locate his wand.  Sweat beaded on his brow as he realised that his wand was nowhere to be found and with a tremendous amount of effort, he forced himself to focus on the ball of light hovering above his palm.

With the ball of light, Harry was able to view his surroundings.  He cried out in shock when the light fell on the unmoving form of Peter Pettigrew.  A lump built up in Harry’s throat and he moved forwards.  Fearful that Wormtail was merely unconscious, Harry stayed out of reach of his arms and legs but when Harry noticed that Wormtail’s chest wasn’t rising or falling, he took a couple more steps forward.

Wormtail’s skin had a grey pallor and his face was frozen in terror.

“Did a Dementor find him?”

“None of those foul creatures have ever made their way here.”  A measured voice replied and Harry whirled around to face the person that it had come from.  Then the realisation dawned on him that he had spoken his thought.

The man standing at the entrance to the room was easily taller than Harry.  He stepped forwards with a controlled, fluid movement and more of the light fell onto him.  Harry’s heart sunk into his chest as he identified similarities between the man’s features and his own.  Disregarding the fact that he would be moving closer to the body of the man who betrayed his parents, Harry put as much distance between the man and himself.

“You had me kidnapped.”

“I did.”  The man acknowledged.

“Why?”

“Is it a crime to want to meet my grandson?”

“I don’t know how things work here, wherever here is, but generally grandparents contact their grandchildren via a letter, postcard, or a phone call.  And if you’re really my grandfather, why didn’t you raise me?  Why did you leave me with the Dursleys?”

The man frowned and Harry clamped down on the dread that was slowly spreading through his body at the discovery of yet another similarity that he and his grandfather shared.  Their eye colour was similar but Harry’s eyes were greener whereas his grandfathers’ were more of a steely blue.  Harry took comfort in the fact that there were visible differences between the two of them.  His grandfather’s hair was a lighter brown than Harry’s and their faces were different shapes.  His grandfather also moved with the poise that Harry had only seen the Slytherins move with and a miniscule part of Harry wondered if that was due to the expensive suit he wore.

“The fight that Lily and her half-sister had before her wedding resulted in Lily clearly expressing in her will that in the event of your parents’ demise, you were not to call the Dursleys’ residence your home.”

Harry scoffed at that statement, filing away the information about his mother and his aunt being half-sisters for later and pushing his feelings on that particular matter and its implications to the back of his mind.

“I’ve never called that place home.  I was forced to live there.  By the time that I was tall enough to reach the stove, I was cooking for the Dursleys and if I were lucky after I’d done the dishes that night by myself, there would be some scraps of meat and some bread left for me to eat.  Let’s not forget about the fact that I had to work to maintain Aunt Petunia’s garden during the hot summer months when I was not at school.  So thank you, grandfather, for not acting on my behalf and leaving me to languish at the Dursleys until I received my Hogwarts letter.  It’s only now that things are better because Magic finally got its act together and gave me a guardian who genuinely cares about my welfare and can look after me.”

Harry’s grandfather was silent throughout his tirade and a faint memory of a history class that Harry had attended in primary school swam before his eyes.  He remembered his teacher reciting a quote from Napolean Bonaparte.

Too late, Harry realised that he had revealed far too much information about his home life with the Dursleys.  You, Ron, and Hermione didn’t know that much about his living circumstances although, Harry was pretty sure that separately the three of you had pieced together enough of the hints that he’d dropped to comprehend that his life at the Dursleys wasn’t good.

Harry’s grandfather turned towards the door and barked out a command in a language that Harry didn’t recognise.  The man who kidnapped Harry instantly reappeared and replied in the same language.  The conversation was over in a matter of seconds and Harry had no idea what had occurred.  Neither of the men had uttered any recognisable words.

Harry’s kidnapper bowed his head and disappeared from view.  With precision, Harry’s grandfather turned to face him again, “You may call me Ra’s al Ghul or grandfather.  As for your new guardian, I hope they possess the same will to act that you do.  Otherwise, they will share the same fate as the man who betrayed your parents.”

“She’ll come for me.  I know it.”  Harry insisted.

Harry’s grandfather regarded him with a neutral expression, “Coming for you is only part of her ordeal.”

Harry wasn’t sure if he were imagining things, he really hoped he wasn’t, but he could have sworn he heard a knock on the door once his grandfather had finished speaking.

Chapter Text

Your heart thudded erratically against your ribcage as you scanned the Alley one last time, hoping that your eyes would catch even the tiniest glimpse of Harry.  You shivered and reached out a hand to the nearest column of Gringotts Bank to steady yourself.

“That’s it!”

Quietly cursing yourself for being so blind, you spun around and strode back into the bank.  The line for the Head Teller was long and you nearly gave into the impulse to tap your foot impatiently like many of the other witches and wizards in line were doing.  Hard as it was, you controlled yourself; from your employment with them, you knew how much the goblins appreciated magical folk demonstrating that they had manners and you didn’t want to do anything to jeopardise your employment with Gringotts.

You were so focused on controlling your emotions that you didn’t notice a goblin approach you, “(Name)?”

Startled by the sound of your name being spoken, you looked to your left to see Gornuk regarding you with a bemused expression.  “Why are you waiting in line?  You are a Gringotts employee; you can bypass the line entirely.”

“My friend, I need your assistance.”

“Concerning which matter?”

As much as you didn’t want to publicly reveal the reason that you were worried and waiting in line, you knew you had no choice but to do so.  “My son has vanished from Diagon Alley and I humbly request the assistance of Gringotts to find him.”

The bank went deathly quiet and multiple sets of eyes stared at you.  Doing your best to ignore them, you continued to look at Gornuk.  His bemused expression instantly transformed into a vengeful one.  In goblin society, children were cherished and adored.  Gornuk knew you well enough to understand that when you said ‘vanished’ you meant ‘kidnapped’ but you didn’t dare utter that word as you were afraid of the chaos it would unleash.  There were already too many people that knew you were Harry Potter’s new guardian.

“This way.”  He instructed and you followed him without a second thought into one of the private rooms at Gringotts.  Unwilling to sit in one of the ornate chairs provided next to the oval-shaped table, you watched as Gornuk flitted around the room.  He quickly found the materials that he was searching for and with a flick of his wrist, a map of the world uncurled itself on the table.

Gornuk bounded over to you and knowing what was coming, you bent down and the goblin pulled a hair from your head.  He rushed back to the table and dropped the hair into a brown dish.

The dish sizzled and sparkled.

“Like many other institutions, Gringotts is aware that you now hold custody of one Harry Potter in the magical and mundane world.  While your parental bond with him is new, fortunately for the two of you, the magic has permeated your entire beings inside and out.”

“Once I find him, how will I reach him?”

“Gringotts will be more than happy to arrange a portkey for you to collect your son.”

You racked your mind for how much that service would usually cost.  It took you a minute to remember that it was on the steeper side and would cost you twenty galleons.  You had no qualms about paying that fee.  In fact…

“Please create the portkey for me Gornuk and as a thank you for your understanding and assistance, take an extra ten galleons out of my vault.”

The dish cracked in half and Gornuk stared at you, “As a parent myself, I refuse your generous offer.  I am merely assisting a friend in a horrible situation.”

“Gornuk…”

“I will not hear any further protests.”  The goblin collected both pieces of the dish and threw them onto the map where they dissolved instantly.  “Wait here.  I will arrange your portkey.”

He sped out of the private room and you took the chance to peer at the map.  Your breath whooshed out of you as you noticed what section of the map had been highlighted by the fragments of the bowl.  It was a place hidden in the Himalayas.

“Hold on Harry.  I’m coming.”

Gornuk reappeared with a toy silver key as if he had heard your declaration.  He took one look at the map, hastily said a phrase in his goblin dialect, and threw the now active portkey to you.

“Good luck my friend.  May the heads of your enemies roll for the pain and suffering that they have caused you.”

“May your fortunes continue to grow,” you replied as you felt a tug behind your navel and Gringotts disappeared in a colourful blur.

The portkey deposited you in front of an imposing circular set of black buildings that all appeared to be connected and shivering, you made your way up to the front door and knocked once.

Chapter Text

The heavy doors swung open with a creak at your knock and you waited until they were resting against the columns that held the building upright before you dared to take a step forwards.  Out of nowhere, a large crowd of people appeared.  The clothing they wore alerted you to the fact that you were dealing with highly trained ninjas.

Their body language didn’t appear threatening yet you were keenly aware of the fact that they knew the layout of these buildings better than you did and every advantage for them was a disadvantage for you.

You cautiously moved forwards and the first line of masked ninjas split in the middle to give you space to step further into the room.  The doors slammed closed behind you and it took every ounce of control that you possessed to not flinch at the unexpected noise.

The next row parted and the other rows followed suit until you reached the last row.  You stood facing a dais with a simple chair while the masked figures stood on either side of you, facing the entrance.

A masculine voice barked out a harsh command and as one, the ninjas changed the direction that they were facing so that they too, were now gazing in the same direction you were.  From a corridor that was cleverly concealed, you watched in amazement as Harry appeared in front of you.

“(Name)!” Harry flung himself into your arms.  “You came for me.”

Caught off balance, you stumbled but wrapped your arms around the teen, “Was there ever any doubt?”

The same voice rang out again and Harry was ripped away from you.  His shout of rage instinctively made you advance in the same direction however, two ninjas blocked your path to Harry and two different hands landed on your shoulders, preventing you from moving any further.

“You would take Harry away from his grandfather?”  The masculine voice questioned in English.

“Considering that you haven’t made any attempt to get to know Harry in the past fourteen years, I’d say that you need to reevaluate your use of the word ‘grandfather.’” You retorted.

The owner of the voice finally stepped into view and immediately, your heart sank.  There was no denying that he and Harry were related as they shared far too many similarities for that.  His posture reminded you of the way that the purebloods of Magical Britain carried themselves.  Some of them had an air of authority to them but not to the same degree that this man had.  None of those purebloods would be able to command a room of this many people.  Harry’s grandfather was tall and you hoped that Harry would inherit some of that height after the nutrient potions had corrected his malnutrition.

“You share the same will to act that Harry and I do.”  The man observed.  “To leave here with my grandson, the will to act is not enough.”

“What must I do?”  You questioned, fully aware that you were walking into dangerous territory.  This man could command his soldiers to do anything to prevent you from escorting Harry back to Magical Britain and unless you acted carefully, you wouldn’t be leaving here alive.

The man produced a goblet and you tensed as he walked forward.  The ninjas let go of your shoulders as he approached.  “Confront your fears.” He whispered, “If you are successful, you may leave here with my grandson.  Fail and he remains here with me.”

He offered you the goblet and you accepted it.  The steam rising out of the goblet had a pungent odour and from the instant you inhaled, you could feel it affecting your senses.  You closed your eyes to centre yourself and you handed the goblet back.

A rush of air was your only warning that someone was preparing to attack you.  Your eyes snapped open and you barely managed to dodge the attack from the man that had offered you the goblet. 

“Wait!  She’s not ready!”

“An attacker will not wait for you to be ready!”  Harry’s grandfather snarled in response.

“It’s going to be all right Harry.”  You reassured the panicked teen.  You didn’t fully believe the words you were saying but you knew that you needed to say something to Harry.

Your magic hummed underneath your skin, reminding you of its presence.  Then a hand landed on your shoulder again.  You twisted around in a circle, shoving the ninja away from you.  While everyone was concentrating on the movements of your upper body, you swept your leg in a broad circle around the dusty floor.

Your plan was to create a rough runic circle that would transport you and Harry back to Magical Britain.  Unfortunately, your plan involved you being close to the ground in order to draw the smaller parts of the runic circle which meant that you would need to take a few hits as a distraction.

“That’s not going to be a problem.”

Two other ninjas charged you.  You evaded them for as long as you could before you started backing towards one of the lines of the circle.  Purposely dropping your guard, you braced yourself for the incoming impact.  The ninja on your left slammed their palm forward into your chest and the force knocked you onto the edge of the circle.  You hurled both hands out to break your fall and your magic surged forwards, creating the next part of the runic circle.  Now there were two smaller, magically created circles inside the bigger circle.

You blinked at the magical circle and it hummed quietly. 

“Almost there.  Now for the tricky part.”

You climbed to your feet again and the same two ninjas rushed forward.  You weren’t sure whether they thought they could overpower you or whether they wanted the battle to be over as they thought it was a waste of their talent and time but either way, they sped forwards and you lit up your hand with magic.

You saw the moment when the ninjas realised that their battle had been manipulated however, they were too close to you to stop their advance.  They changed their attack so that they were now coming at you from both sides, hoping to overwhelm you that way.

You flicked out your hand and the ninja approaching you on the right flew into the wall.  The ninja on your left pressed their advantage and darted forwards, slicing you across the upper arm with a blade from their sleeve.  You hissed in pain and fought the temptation to cradle your injured arm with your empty hand.  You needed the blood to fall into the runic circle and then you and Harry would be able to leave.

Ignoring the pain and stickiness of your cut upper arm, you reached out and grabbed the ninja’s wrist.  With a quick step, you moved behind the ninja and in the process, pulled their arm over their back so that their elbow pointed up into the air.  The ninja swung out with their other arm and twisted their body in an attempt to free themselves but you only tightened your grip on their wrist.

Once again, your magic surged forwards.  It rushed through you and into the ninja.  At your silent command, your magic locked their muscles in place.  You released the ninja’s arm and channelling your magic, slammed your right hand into their ribcage.  The ninja flew across the room, landing next to their ally who was just beginning to stir.

Your blood dropped onto the ground and the runic circle activated.

“HARRY!” You screamed.

Following your example, Harry’s leg snapped out twice in short, painful kicks.  His foot connected with one of the ninja’s shins and then with the other ninja’s shin.  They doubled over in shock and pain and Harry darted around them, sprinting over to you.  The runic circle was beginning to glow and blue light was starting to creep up the sides of the circle to form a dome.

The teen pushed down with the ball of his right foot and leaped into the air.  He landed inside the circle as the dome formed, shielding the two of you from the ninjas and his grandfather.

“And for my next trick.” You stomped on the floor once and the dome glowed with a brilliant white light.  You grabbed onto Harry’s hand and then with a whoosh, the two of you hurtled through the air at an impossible speed only stopping when you were back in your lounge room.

Chapter Text

“Why didn’t you just blast your way into the base?”  Harry questioned at dinner that night. 

You put down your fork and knife, “If I had done that, it would have been incredibly insulting.  Think of it as walking into a stranger’s house uninvited, kicking off your shoes, and turning up the television to its maximum volume before throwing yourself onto the lounge.”

“It all came down to not wanting to offend my grandfather after he had me kidnapped?”

“Manners are everything to the goblins.  If you are rude in your dealings with them, let’s just say they aren’t above seeking retribution.  There are places in the world, both magical and non-magical, where you need to be invited into a dwelling or building.”

“Is that where the legend of vampires needing permission to enter a residence came from?”  Harry asked as he dug into his dinner.

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”  You replied.  Hedwig was perched on the chair next to Harry keeping a watchful eye over him.  Earlier that afternoon, after your unexpected return, she had flown down from her perch in Harry’s room and inspected him with a critical eye.  Then she had turned to you.  For a moment, you thought she would attack you but the owl amazed you by flapping over to perch on your shoulder.  She nibbled your ear affectionately and then refused to leave Harry’s side for the rest of the afternoon.

“I guess I’m going to have to go back to the Alley, aren’t I?”  Harry sighed.

“Yes.”  You admitted, “We won’t rush things and we’ll go when you’re ready.”

“Can we talk about me attending the Quidditch World Cup?  In my birthday letter, Ron mentioned that his dad got tickets.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Harry dropped his gaze to the tablecloth and fidgeted with a strand of thread that had become loose, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he murmured.  “You had to travel halfway across the world to find me because my grandfather became aware of my existence.  What if something like that happens again?”

“Do you trust the Weasley family to look after you?”

Harry nodded and then shook his head, “I don’t know.  I mean Pettigrew was Percy’s rat and then when Percy got his owl, he was Ron’s rat.  Didn’t any of the Weasleys wonder why Scabbers was living so long?”

“Scabbers?”

“The pet name that Pettigrew went by when he lived with the Weasleys.”

“Ah.”

“Also,” Harry’s voice was so soft that you had to strain to hear it.  “My grandfather killed him.”

You drew back, “What?”

“He gave Pettigrew the same test that he gave you but Pettigrew failed.  He probably wasn’t at his best considering he’d been a rat for twelve years and his health wasn’t all that great after he heard that Sirius escaped from Azkaban because he knew that he was the guilty one and Sirius was the innocent one.”

“How do you know that Pettigrew is dead?”

“His body was in the room that I was transported to after I was kidnapped.  I get the feeling that my grandfather placed him there on purpose so that I could see what he is capable of.”

“Well, that came through loud and clear.”

The two of you fell into silence and then Harry spoke again, “When we go to Diagon Alley tomorrow, can we stop in at Ollivander’s?  I think Ra’s al Ghul still has my wand.”

“Of course,” you agreed.  “From what I know about wands; after the revelation about your grandfather, there is a chance it wouldn’t have worked as effectively as it did in the past because part of your identity has been changed.”

“Wands are that sensitive?”

You nodded.

“Don’t worry about the dishes tonight Harry.  Go up to bed and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Hedwig spread her wings and let out and approving bark.  She glided up the stairs a little and then hooted for Harry to get a move on.  Harry smiled at his owl’s impatience and bid you goodnight.

When you were certain that Harry was in his room a wave of tiredness swept over you.  “What a day.”  You thought as you banished the dishes to the sink and used your magic to wash and dry them.

Chapter Text

“Have you thought about attending the Quidditch World Cup?  There’s still time for you to get to the venue before it starts in the evening tonight.”  You asked the teen the next morning.

“I don’t want to go to the Quidditch Cup.”  Harry declared, “I’d be too worried about something happening at the Cup to fully enjoy it.  I want to go to Diagon Alley today instead.”

You cursed Ra’s al Ghul in your mind for making Harry think that way.  If he hadn’t arranged for Harry to be kidnapped, Harry would have been elated to attend the Quidditch World Cup and actually spend some time being a teenager.

“-I sent a letter to Ron last night letting him know and he’s gonna fill me in on the train to Hogwarts.”

Your smile was wan and sad, “I’m really sorry your grandfather’s actions have made you think like that.”

“Though, if he hadn’t had me kidnapped, I would never have known that you can fight the way you do.”

A tad embarrassed at the praise; you changed the subject.  “The goblins have given us permission to Floo directly into Gringotts.  Are you ready to go?”

Harry pulled a face and removed his glasses, “Is there any form of magical transport that is actually pleasant?”

“Brooms.”  You replied, “Though it would cause more than a few problems if a few hundred Muggles saw a group of witches and wizards soaring across the skies because they didn’t want to Apparate, use portkeys, or use Floo Powder.  Plus, brooms are slower and many witches and wizards don’t like that.”

“What does Apparate mean?”

Understanding that Harry was asking questions to distract himself from the thought of returning to Diagon Alley, you decided to humour him.  “Apparate or Apparition is a form of magical transport that involves you leaving one place and instantly reappearing in another.  You can learn the basics when you’re about to turn seventeen however, you can only take the test for your Apparition license when you are seventeen because that is when your magical core has stabilised and if you get distracted while you’re thinking about your destination, you can leave part of yourself behind.  That’s called Splinching and as the name suggests, it is not at all pleasant.  There is a dedicated department in the Ministry of Magic and if someone does Splinch themselves, they will arrive and escort you to St Mungo’s while an Obliviator stays behind and wipes the memories of any Muggles present.  There is Side-Long Apparition which is basically when a parent or guardian guides you in the direction that they want you to go.”

Reluctantly, Harry accepted a handful of Floo Powder and climbed into the fireplace, “Gringotts, Head Office!”

The flames turned emerald and Harry was whisked out of sight.  Then it was your turn to repeat the phrase he used.

Gornuk was waiting for you at the fireplace, “I see you were victorious in your quest.”  He grinned toothily.

“She was amazing,” Harry wheezed.  He doubled over to catch his breath and straightened up a minute later.

“I would like to hear the story if you have some time,” Gornuk requested eagerly before his expression changed, “Unfortunately, my friend, news of your son’s abduction has reached the papers and it has become public knowledge.”

“Brilliant,” you groaned.  “There’s another fire that I need to put out.”

Gornuk shifted into a warrior’s stance and glared at Harry.  The teen held his hands up in front of him and shot you a worried look.

“Are you aware of the dark magic that lingers in your scar?!” Gornuk thundered.

“No!” Harry instantly denied, “I…”

“It must be removed immediately otherwise it will have detrimental effects on your health!”

“What type of dark magic are we talking about, Gornuk?”

Gornuk’s face contorted and he spat on the ground next to him with a snarl, “A magic most foul.  It is called a Horcrux and it is a piece of another’s soul!”

“Voldemort.”  Harry breathed.  “That’s how he survived the attack at Godric’s Hollow.  He put a bit of himself in me?”  He questioned, revolted.

With effort, Gornuk controlled his tone.  “My mother is the Clan Spellcaster.  As her first son, she taught me how to recognise different types of goblin and wizard magic.  Many magics are forbidden but none more so than Horcruxes.  They are a poor man’s attempt at achieving immortality.”

“Get it out of me,”  Harry ordered.

“I will contact my mother.  You must sit.”

You guided Harry over to the closest, comfortable-looking chair and you took a seat next to him. 

“In my second year, I noticed similarities between me and the younger version of Voldemort.  He was known as Tom Riddle then.  Now I’ve noticed similarities between me and my grandfather.  How much of me is truly me?”

You took the teen’s hand, “Your heart and mind are your own.  Your ambitions and your dreams are your own.  Your experiences and your choices are your own.  Just because you look a certain way or talk or act a certain way, it doesn't mean that your identity is lost because someone behaves in the same manner.”

Harry looked at you with watery eyes, “Thank you for seeing me.”

You smiled back.  Soft, small footsteps announced the arrival of Gornuk and his mother.  Gornuk’s mother made a beeline for Harry the second she saw him.  Her skin was a vivid green, she wore no glasses and her tunic was an earthy brown colour.  Hanging from the belt of her tunic were various vials.

“My son was wise to bring this to my attention.  You indeed have a Horcrux residing in your skull.”

“Can you help get it out of me?  Please?  I don’t want any connection to that monster.”

Gornuk’s mother reached to her belt and with a three-fingered grip, pulled an empty vial from her belt.  She gestured for Harry to bend down and when the two of them were at eye level, she pressed the empty vial to his scar.

There was an unearthly scream as Gornuk’s mother chanted in the same dialect as her son had the day before.  Sluggishly, black liquid began to fill the vial and when the vial was full, an unbreakable seal formed across the top of it, preventing the ooze from returning to its original host.

Harry exhaled shakily, “Thank you.  Is it over?”

Gornuk’s mother pulled away from the teen, “It is.”  She confirmed.  “This abomination will be locked in the highest security vault that Gringotts has until the wizard whom this belongs to is destroyed.” 

A thought occurred to you and you sat bolt upright, “Harry.  What did Voldemort look like when you encountered him in your second year?”

“Like he did in his Hogwarts days.  He had his school robes on and he told me that that version of him was sixteen.”

“That was the first Horcrux he created.”  Gornuk breathed, “If we could get our hands on the remnants of that, Gringotts could destroy him before he attained the level of power and influence that he had during the First Wizarding War.”

“The memory came from a diary.”

“Where is the diary now?”  Gornuk’s mother barked.

Harry shook his head, “With Dumbledore.  I know it’s at Hogwarts but I’m not sure where exactly he’s put it.  Why would he hang onto it?”

“That question doesn’t matter now.  What matters is finding a way to get the diary to us so we can destroy the Dark Lord.  That burden falls to your guardian.”

You nodded, “I’ll figure out a way to obtain the diary and give it to Gringotts.  Thank you for your assistance today.”

“Is there anything more that Gringotts may assist you with?”

“Can I visit my vault to get some money for this year’s school supplies?  That’s all I’ve been trying to visit Gringotts to do.”

Chapter Text

Ollivander’s was just as Harry remembered it.  The gold, spindly chair still sat in the corner and the shelves were stacked with cases upon cases of wands.

“Mr. Potter?”  Ollivander greeted him, “Why have you returned to my shop?  Is there a problem with your wand?”

Harry shuffled his feet awkwardly, “I’m sure you’ve heard by now that I was kidnapped, Mr. Ollivander, and during that kidnapping, my wand was taken from me.”

“I see,” Mr. Ollivander intoned gravely.  He climbed up onto the ladder and began selecting boxes containing wands.

“You’re not angry at me for having my wand stolen?”

“Three years ago, very nearly to the day, I told you that your mother and father came in here seeking their first wands.  Throughout their studies at Hogwarts and their adult lives, their needs changed and so did the compatibility of them and their wands.”

He deposited the stack of boxes in front of Harry, “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what to do.”

Harry shook his head and unboxed the first wand on the top of the stack, feeling as if he were eleven years old again.

“Cedar, ten and a quarter inches with the tail feather of an augurey.”

Harry’s right hand closed over the hilt of the wand and he felt a surge of power.  The magical lights in the store glowed intensely and Harry knew this was the wand for him.

“Splendid Mr. Potter.  Absolutely splendid.”

Harry looked between you and Mr. Ollivander, wondering if Ollivander was going to reveal some information about Harry’s new wand like he did the last time Harry visited his shop.  “Cedar wood is a powerful wand base.  It recognises those who will move mountains to protect the ones they hold dear and will only perform at their full potential for their true owners.”

Harry paid for his new wand and at your suggestion, he purchased a wand holster too and then he left the shop deep in thought.  “Ollivander constantly finds ways to shock me.”  He thought as the two of you returned home.  He licked at his large strawberry and peanut butter ice cream.  He had offered to pay for yours as well but you had refused, saying that it was a parent’s job to buy treats for their children, not the other way around.  You had explained that there were of course exceptions to this such as birthdays, holidays, and special occasions.

“Something on your mind Harry?”

The teen shook his head, “A few things.  None of them are bad.  It’s just that Ollivander has a way of looking through me and I guess I’m wondering what will happen if my old wand and I are reunited.”

You rubbed your hands together thoughtfully after you discarded your serviette in the bin in the kitchen, “Some witches and wizards have the ability to double cast which sounds cool in theory but it also has the side effect of draining your magical core quicker.  Although, if you trained yourself to fight with two wands instead of simply walking onto a battlefield with the expectation that you would be able to double cast, you would probably be able to overcome your opponent quicker than by casting only with one wand.”

There was a thud and Hedwig dropped a rolled-up newspaper onto the table.  Harry finished off his ice cream cone, balled up his serviette, threw it into the bin, and figuring that news of his kidnapping was going to be on the front page, he unfurled the newspaper.

“TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!” The headline screamed and underneath, the subheading read, “DARK MARK IGNITES UNPRECEDENTED WIZARD PANIC.”  In tiny writing at the bottom of the article, the journalist’s name was printed.

“Who’s Rita Skeeter?”

Chapter Text

“Thanks for your letters,” Harry said gratefully as he slid into the seat on the train opposite Ron and Hermione.  “You have no idea how good it was to be able to write to you about what happened.”

“Mum had a fit when the news broke that you were kidnapped,” Ron revealed.  “She almost stopped us from going to the Quidditch World Cup even though Dad already had the tickets.  Course with what happened at the Cup, I kind of wish we didn’t go.”

“What was that snake thing hovering in the air?  It was in every photo in the Daily Prophet.”

Hermione swallowed nervously, “It’s the Dark Mark.  It’s his mark.”

“What?  Voldemort?”  Harry spluttered, “You mean to tell me that his supporters are making their presence known now?”

Ron nodded uncomfortably.  “Dad said that during the First Wizarding War, it wasn’t uncommon to see the Dark Mark above a house that had been attacked by Death Eaters.”

“It’s like a calling card.”

Hermione paled and Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “There are rumours that the Dark Mark was burnt onto the arms of You-Know-Who’s followers.”

Harry stared out of the window and watched the scenery fly by.  “In your letter, you said (Name) was the one who rescued you after you were kidnapped.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen an adult witch or wizard actually fight before.  The pathetic excuse between Lockhart and Snape in our second year doesn’t count, don’t look at me like that Hermione – Lockhart was useless as a professor, and what Professor Lupin and Sirius did last year doesn’t count because it wasn’t an actual duel, so what was watching an adult witch fight like?”

Harry licked his lips and wrenched his gaze away from the window, “She was amazing.  She played by my grandfather’s rules and still managed to beat him at his own game.  She did this thing with her leg while she was flipping one of his ninjas,” Harry mimicked your leg sweep.

“And then when two more of his soldiers charged her, she channelled her magic into the circle she’d created and…oh, you might not like this part, Hermione.”

“Why not?”

“One of the ninjas sliced her across her upper arm with a concealed knife and she used the blood that fell from that injury to create a runic circle that not only shielded us from any further attacks but also transported us home incredibly fast.  (Name) also used her magic to completely freeze the ninja that attacked her in place before magically shoving them away.  I wonder if the magical hold on the ninja broke after we disappeared.”

The expression on Hermione’s face was a mixture of disgust at the mention of blood and magical paralysis and intrigue at the magic that you had cast, “It sounds like she combined a protection circle, a travelling circle, and a blood-based deflection circle.  That’s really advanced magic.”

“That’s not the best bit,” Harry crowed.

“What’s the best bit?”  Ron inquired.

“When we went to Gringotts, the goblin we dealt with was so impressed by her actions that he asked her to tell him the story sometime.”

“Wow!”  Ron exhaled, “To impress a warrior goblin is no small feat.”

“Do you think your grandfather will come after her for revenge?”  Hermione asked inquisitively.

Harry’s shoulders sagged, “I can’t rule it out.”  He admitted, “But I think (Name) will have the situation under control if he does.  It’s nice knowing that there’s an adult actually looking out for me.”

The three friends spent the rest of the train ride chatting about Ron and Hermione’s stay at the Burrow.  “It’s so annoying that Bill, Percy, and Dad know what’s going on at Hogwarts this year but they are refusing to tell me!”  Ron complained. 

“Honestly, Ronald!  You’ll find out like everyone else!”

“You can’t sit there and tell me that people like Malfoy don’t know what’s going on!  Why do I have to wait?  It’s not fair!”

The aforementioned fourth year Slytherin shoved his way into the Gryffindors’ compartment, “Didn’t think I’d see you here Potter.  Did the Weasel and Granger fill you in about the Cup considering you were unable to join us at the celebration?”

Harry exhaled slowly and stood up, withdrawing his new wand from its holster as he did so, “If I were to jinx you here and now Malfoy, I wouldn’t lose any sleep nor would I lose any House Points because term hasn’t started yet.  If you want to avoid that, I’d suggest you leave our compartment.  If not, I am more than happy to show you some of the new jinxes that I’ve learned.”

Harry copied the tone of voice that you had used when you spoke to his grandfather prior to his challenge.  It seemed to do the trick since Malfoy sneered in Harry’s direction but retreated from the compartment.

“That was bloody brilliant!”

Harry grinned.

Chapter Text

“I was under the impression that you being Harry’s magical guardian would mean that you had the ability to prevent situations such as Harry’s kidnapping from unfolding.”

If you had to spend one more minute in the Headmaster’s office being lectured about the fact that Ra’s al Ghul had forces beyond anyone’s comprehension in Magical Britain and had used that strength to kidnap Harry, you were going to seriously consider withdrawing Harry from Hogwarts, enrolling him in another school and leaving Magical Britain for good.

“They are known as the League of Shadows,” you retorted with a tone of forced politeness.  “I used all the resources at my disposal to journey to Harry’s location and together we returned to Magical Britain.”

Dumbledore let out a long exhale and relaxed his grip on the armrests of his chair, “Forgive me.  My nerves have been tenser than normal ever since Peter Pettigrew vanished from his holding cell in the Ministry.  I would hate to see any further harm come to Harry Potter and if I obtain any knowledge that indicates he is at risk, I will have to carefully consider the possibility of him returning to his aunt and uncle in Surrey.”

You understood the thinly veiled threat in the Headmaster’s words and not trusting your voice, you dropped your gaze to the table of devices.

“Many people such as yourself have been fascinated by the collection on my desk.”

“Is that why you’ve kept the destroyed Horcrux, Headmaster?  Is it a collectable for you?  Or is it part of your plan involving Harry?”

Upon further inspection, you observed that the device that had been letting out coloured puffs of air had broken cleanly in two.  You pointed at it, “What happened to that?  In all my time as a goblin liaison, I’ve never seen a magical artefact broken in such a way.”

Dumbledore looked contemplative, “It broke suddenly.  One day it rose into the air and spun rapidly before it cracked into the two pieces that you see before you.”

Despite yourself, you were interested in learning more about how the device broke, “When exactly did it break?”

“Two weeks ago, in the mid-morning.”

“That would have been around the time when Ra’s al Ghul introduced himself to Harry and revealed that he is Harry’s grandfather.  I wonder if the acknowledgement that Harry has relatives other than the Dursleys is what broke this device.”

“I will think on your words Headmaster and carefully consider my next course of action.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

“You and I know that isn’t true.  Harry has faced Voldemort twice during his time at Hogwarts and both times although he’s had some support from friends and allies, when push has come to shove, he’s been facing Voldemort alone.  That’s twice too often for my liking and it is also a pattern that I don’t want to see repeat itself.  If you’re planning for Harry to face Voldemort in some epic battle then you’ve planned for the possibility that there are going to be more tests.  I’m willing to bet that as Harry progresses through these tests, your hold on him will tighten.”

You had no desire to stay for the start of term feast and so, when you were safely passed the border that prevented Apparition into Hogwarts, you Disapparated.  You landed on the front step of your house and let out a frustrated growl at the turn that your conversation with Dumbledore had taken.

You stepped into the lounge room and you immediately felt as if you weren’t alone.  Your hunch was proven correct when three ninjas stepped out of the shadows and faced you unblinkingly.

“I’d offer you a cup of tea and suggest you make yourselves at home but I’ve got the feeling that you’ve already done that and you’re all more familiar with my home than I’d like.”

“Your senses serve you well.”  The voice of Ra’s al Ghul praised from the chair closest to the stairs that led to Harry’s bedroom.  The leader of the League of Shadows looked incredibly out of place in your lounge room.

“Why are you here?”

Ra’s al Ghul stood up.  With a few long strides, he was standing opposite you and you had to crane your neck to look up at him, “I have been researching the events in my grandson’s life up to this point and aside from a notable few, I am not impressed with what I have uncovered.”

“That makes two people.  The Headmaster of Hogwarts contacted me via owl and we had a little chat.  It seems he wasn’t too impressed with your decision to kidnap Harry and he did me the courtesy of informing me that should anything like that occur again, Harry will be removed from my care and returned to the Dursleys.”

“The Headmaster’s threat is an empty one.  Currently, he holds political power but with all the power he wields, he cannot override Magic’s decision to make you my grandson’s magical guardian.”

“What brings you here then?”

“Dumbledore is only in power because Voldemort continues to be a threat.  Should the threat of Voldemort be removed, much of Dumbledore’s plans and power will vanish overnight.”

“Are you proposing an alliance?”

“You have proven yourself capable.  Prevent Voldemort’s second ascension to power and we will dismantle Dumbledore’s influence.”

“Am I really considering this?”  You questioned yourself, “This man gave the order for Harry to be kidnapped and his man followed it without question.”

“Well, what other choice do I have?  Dumbledore’s already shown some of his hand and threatened to take Harry away from me if I don’t tread the path that he expects me to.  Can I afford to say no to this offer?  I saw how malnourished Harry was due to the Dursleys' care.  He’s only now at an acceptable weight.”

“Can you promise me that whatever happens, you won’t separate Harry and me?”

“I am impressed with the methods you used to rescue Harry.  You caused no lasting damage to my home.  You have my word that I will not separate the two of you.”

“I know that Dumbledore won’t make the same vow.  Plus, I won’t be doing this by myself.  The goblins have also offered assistance in defeating Voldemort for good.”

“I agree to your terms.”

Ra’s al Ghul lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles without breaking eye contact, “I look forward to working with you.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that Professor Dumbledore is allowing Hogwarts to host the Triwizard Tournament this year!”  Hermione fumed, “I remember reading about it in Hogwarts: A History and tasks that the Champions had to complete bordered on cruel – it was discontinued around 1792 because the volume of deaths was too numerous!”

“A thousand galleons though,” Ron sighed dreamily.    “The prize money would be…”

“Ron?”  Harry prompted when he realised that his best mate had gone silent and that a calculating expression had replaced his dreamy one.  The calculating expression that Ron wore was the same one he had on his face during the wizard chess games that he, Harry, and Hermione played countless times in the Gryffindor Common Room.

“Almost worth it,” Ron finished his thought.

“What’s the problem?”

“Haven’t we been down this road before with Flamel?  We found out about the Philosopher’s Stone, and we were awed by its potential at the time, and then at the end of our first year, Harry had to face You-Know-Who who had snuck into Hogwarts attached to Quirrell.  Why didn’t the defensive wards pick up the parasitic life form?”

Harry shuddered.  Ron had unintentionally described Voldemort exactly the same way that Voldemort described himself at the time and hearing that word brought back some unpleasant memories for the teen.

“And then in our second year,” Ron continued thoughtfully.  “The wards should’ve detected the fragment of Riddle in Ginny’s diary and reacted either by notifying the Ministry or by completely destroying the diary before the Chamber was opened.  So why didn’t they?  I spoke to Bill before the Cup and he mentioned that wards need to be regularly maintained.  Either someone here,” Ron lowered his voice, “hasn’t maintained them for ages and they’ve just lost power and effectiveness over time or, someone has deliberately de-powered the wards.”

“Why would an adult do that?”

The more Harry thought about Ron’s words, the more things made sense.  During his first two years at Hogwarts, he had been constantly drip-fed clues throughout both years which only made sense when he was about to face a form of Voldemort, and thenduring the final encounters with Voldemort, he was usually facing Voldemort alone to protect witches and wizards with more experience than him.

“For Merlin’s sake, the protective enchantments in my first year were so easy to overcome that three first years managed to not only put the clues together about what Fluffy was guarding but overcome the barriers that the professors had created to protect the Stone!  If we were really meant to stay away from the Philosopher’s Stone, there would have been hundreds of better spells and protection methods that the professors could have used.  It was almost as if….”

“The challenges in our first year were created specifically with us in mind.”  Harry breathed, finishing his thought aloud.  “The chess board, the flying keys, the Mirror of Erised…”

“The potions riddle and the Devil’s Snare.”  Hermione gasped as the pieces fit together in her mind too.

Harry wrenched himself out of the comfortable armchair that he was sitting in, “I need some air.”

Ron and Hermione didn’t protest as Harry left the Gryffindor common room, too consumed with their own racing thoughts.  Fury bubbled up inside Harry with every step that he took.  As Harry sped through the corridors, Hogwarts seemed less and less like a school and more like a battle arena.

Harry broke into a run; he didn’t know where his feet were taking him and right now he didn’t care.  Without realising it, the flying he had done in the holidays and the nutrient potions had increased his stamina and endurance.

An inquisitive hoot broke Harry’s single-minded focus and he gazed around at his surroundings.  Harry heard another hoot and then a white blur soared down from the highest perch and settled on his shoulder.

“’Lo Hedwig.”

His companion let out a soft hoot and Harry reached up a hand to pet her, “Things aren’t what I thought they were Hedwig,” he confessed.  “I thought Hogwarts and Magical Britain were going to be different to life with the Dursleys but it’s exactly the same.  When things are going great – everyone’s happy to know me and tell me how much I look like my dad but I have my mother’s eyes.  The second things go bad, it becomes “What are you going to do about it, Harry?”  “It’s your job to fix it, Harry.”  “It’s all Potter’s fault!  He needs to be punished!”  Well, I’ve had enough!  The professors are fully-trained adult wizards!  When did it become my job to protect everyone?  Why do I have to fight for my place at Hogwarts?”  By the end of his rant, tears were making their way down Harry’s cheeks.  The teen sniffed and wiped them away with the back of his sleeve.

Hedwig flapped her wings and rubbed her feathered head against Harry’s cheek trying to comfort her human.  “I’m sorry girl.  It’s just hard to know that other people don’t have my best interests at heart and right now, it seems like the people who wish to harm or manipulate me outnumber the ones who care.”

Hedwig let out an affronted hoot.

“Of course, I know that you, Ron, Hermione, and (Name) are looking out for me.”

“And Dobby sir!”  A familiar voice piped up

Harry’s head snapped down to his legs and standing to the right of his legs stood Dobby.  The elf looked exactly as Harry remembered him with his green tennis ball eyes, his bat-like ears, and his large smile.  The only difference was his clothing.  Dobby was no longer wearing the torn, stained rag that he had worn when he served the Malfoy family.   Now Dobby wore a nice set of clothes including elf-sized socks and shoes.

“Dobby?  What are you doing here?”

The elf twisted his ears, “Dobby is not meaning to eavesdrop on Harry Potter sir’s conversation with his owl but Dobby wanted to come and find Harry Potter to let him know that he has found employment at Hogwarts.  He isn’t an official elf yet but Dobby can still help people at Hogwarts if they need it and Dobby wants to help Harry Potter.  Dobby owes Harry Potter for giving him his freedom from the bad Malfoy family.”

“Dobby, you don’t….”  Harry trailed off as he remembered what happened at Gringotts during the summer holidays.

“Can you access all parts of the castle?”

“Dobby can!”  The elf replied enthusiastically.

“It’s not as if the owls in the Owlery can reveal what I’m about to say to anybody and if I ask Dobby for help, I’ll be helping (Name) too.  It’s the least I can do to help her get the diary to Gringotts.”  Harry mused.

“Can you please go into the Headmaster’s office and bring me Tom Riddle’s diary from my second year?  Do you know the one I mean?”

“Dobby knows which one Harry Potter is referring to and Headmaster Dumbledore has it in his office.”  The House Elf confirmed, “Why would Harry Potter need that?”

“Because it is the key to bring V—You-Know-Who down for good.”

A strange look crossed Dobby’s face, “Dobby will.”  He vowed, “Dobby will return soon.”

“Wait Dobby!”  Harry called out, “What if Dumble….”  Harry trailed off when the elf popped away with a mischievous grin.  It was the same grin that Harry had seen when Dobby was about to snap his fingers and drop the cake on Mrs. Mason before his second year started at Hogwarts.

Thinking about the lead-up to his second year made Harry angry again and so, Harry gazed up at the owls that were perched and asleep in the Owlery.  “I’m sorry that I woke and worried you, Hedwig,” Harry apologised while stroking her feathers.

Hedwig let out a soft coo and Harry lowered himself onto the floor of the Owlery.  He sat down, extremely mindful of not jostling Hedwig, and occasionally petted her while he waited for Dobby’s return.

Hedwig nibbled his fingers.  Harry was beginning to think something had gone wrong and Dobby had been caught when the elf returned triumphantly.

“Dobby sensed Headmaster Dumbledore was awake in his office so Dobby turned himself invisible before he appeared in the office.  The portraits were asleep and Dobby was sneaky.  Headmaster Dumbledore didn’t notice Dobby.  Dobby found the diary.”

He held out the destroyed diary to Harry and Harry accepted it reverently, “Thank you Dobby.”

Hedwig opened her beak and bent her head as if she wanted Harry to put it in her mouth so that she could take it to you.

“No, Hedwig.”  Harry disagreed.

His owl snapped her beak closed and stared incredulously at Harry as if to say, “What?  You don’t think I can do it?”

“It would be too heavy for you and too obvious.”

“Dobby could take the diary to wherever Harry Potter sir needs it to go.”  Dobby offered.

Harry shook his head, “You’ve done enough for me Dobby.  I don’t want to risk you getting in trouble for me.  What if someone notices you’re missing?”

“Dobby will be quick.”  The elf swore, “This diary is helping take down He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?”

“Ye-es.”  Harry answered in confusion.

“Then Harry Potter sir should trust Dobby to take it where Harry Potter needs it to go so he can be defeated,”  Dobby argued, poking Harry in the leg emphatically.

Hedwig barked in amusement and Harry grinned, “You’ve convinced me, Dobby.”

“Where does Dobby need to take this?”

Harry opened his mouth to tell him to take the ruined diary to you but then he clamped his jaw shut.  Before it’d been okay to reveal information to Dobby but now, after Dobby had stolen the diary, Harry felt as if he needed to be extremely careful with what he said.

Possibilities ran through Harry’s mind.  The most tempting of them was to ask Hedwig if she could go with Dobby to you but there was a chance that because Hedwig was so recognisable, she could be tracked and hurt in the process.  Harry wasn’t willing to risk that and he wasn’t willing to risk you being hurt either.

Which only left one option.

“Can you take this to Gringotts and give it to a goblin called Gornuk and tell him it’s from me?”  Harry asked, handing the diary back to Dobby.

Gingerly, Dobby accepted the diary back and Harry wondered if Dobby, like Gornuk, could sense dark magic.  He resolved to ask Dobby about that the next time he saw him.

“Harry Potter should get back to Gryffindor Tower.  When Dobby returns, it will be late and Mr. Filch will not be happy to see Harry Potter out of bed.”

Hedwig spread her wings and flew back up to her perch.  Taking his cue from her, Harry stood up and thanked Dobby again.

“Before Dobby leaves, he needs to tell Harry Potter that three of the Headmaster’s devices are now broken and the Headmaster’s magic is not happy or calm at all.”

Chapter Text

“How exactly did you get this?”

“A rather determined House Elf brought it to me last night,”  Gornuk explained, shooting the diary a disgusted look.  “He was adamant that I was the only one he would give it to and he said that it came from Harry Potter.”

Your heart swelled at the mention of Harry and you thanked Magic for bringing the two of you together, “What happens now?”

Gornuk stared at the diary.  Some of the disgust had faded from his face and it had been replaced by contemplation, “A Horcrux is a part of a whole and we have two.  I see three possible courses of action.  The first course of action would be to put the two pieces of his soul in close proximity to each other and destroy them together.  That would weaken him for a time but I fear that he made more than two Horcruxes and so, he would recover from the two parts of his soul being destroyed and seek retribution.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good option.  What’re the other two?”

“Our second option is to use the two pieces of his soul as magnets and draw the other pieces of his soul to them in a controlled environment.  We would then destroy the Horcruxes however, that would still leave you with the problem of defeating the wizard himself, and as with option one, he would seek retribution.”

“It’s better than the first option but I don’t like the fact that Vol-sorry he would know that we have discovered his secret.  His anger would make him more dangerous because he has everything to lose.”

“I agree.”

“Besides, how would we destroy the Horcruxes?”

“Theoretically, that is easy.  All we would need to do is find an object containing basilisk venom.”

As soon as Gornuk finished speaking, you began to brainstorm ways that you could acquire an object that had basilisk venom.  You had a few contacts that you could turn to if you needed to but every time you considered someone, you came back to the same problem.  It was very likely that if you contacted one of the people that you knew, the fact that you were searching for a weapon with basilisk venom would find its way to Dumbledore and if he found out about what you were attempting to do, you had no doubt that he would twist the situation to his advantage.  At the very least that would involve Harry being forcibly returned to the Dursleys.  You couldn’t rule out the possibility that he would Obliviate the two of you either so that he could raise this subject with Harry when he felt the time was right.

You shook your head, “And the third option?”

“We use the two soul fragments that we have as magnets to draw the other pieces of his soul here, in a controlled environment, and then when all the pieces of his soul are together, we banish the reconnected soul pieces back into the wizard.  This method would overwhelm him while giving us an exact location of his whereabouts and so, you would have the element of surprise when you attacked him.”

“Let’s go with that!  Why was that option the last one?”

Gornuk grinned, “I wanted to save the best for last, my friend.”

“You and your sense of humour.  When can we get started on option three?”

Gornuk’s grin became sharp and bloodthirsty, “I’m free for the rest of the day.”

Chapter Text

Days ago, Ra’s al Ghul had been out of place in your lounge room.  Now it was your turn to feel out of place.  You stood in the highest security room that Gringotts had surrounded by thirty warrior goblins dressed head to toe in goblin-made battle armour and carrying a variety of deadly-looking weapons.  There were scythes, bows, and arrows – the arrows had been dipped in poison, daggers, and spears.  Gornuk also wore battle armour.  He carried a javelin and his mother stood by his side.  She still wore her brown Spell Caster tunic but a new item hung on her belt.

It was a clear square prism.  She informed everyone present that this prism would function as a shield when the onslaught began.  A young goblin asked what she meant by that – wouldn’t you just be fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named after the soul pieces were reunited and banished back into him?

Gornuk’s mother shook her head severely and explained that because his soul had been separated so violently so many times, it would become physically and emotionally violent when confronted with anything it deemed a threat.  Which included reuniting with other pieces of his soul.

“That explains the armour.”

One goblin banged the butt of his spear on the ground and then other goblins picked up the rhythm.  Pretty soon the sound of spears banging against the stone floor was bouncing around the room, growing louder and louder with every passing minute.  At first, you thought it was the goblins preparing for war but then Gornuk’s mother began chanting.

A cold chill swept down your spine.  The ruined diary began to thrash around on the ground as if it were trying to escape what was coming and the Horcrux in the clear vial lifted itself into the air and slammed itself back down onto the ground repeatedly.  You realised that it was trying to break the vial so it could escape or possess someone in the room to avoid encountering the other pieces of Voldemort’s soul.

The vial held and then black streaks surged into the room, aiming directly for the two contained pieces of his soul.  The temperature in the room dropped and became icy.  With every exhale, you could see your breath in front of you.  You saw the moment the goblins registered the icy chill as well but they continued to slam their spears into the ground.  The goblins that carried other weapons began to stomp their feet in rhythm and Gornuk’s mother’s chanting grew louder.

The five black streaks in the air shuddered as they were forced closer and closer to the diary and the Horcrux in the vial.  The five streaks transformed into black, gloopy, oozing circles and they hovered in the air above the vial and the diary as if they were hoping that something would happen to prevent them from connecting with the other pieces but nothing did.

With a tremendous crack, the soul fragments connected and formed a writhing black ball of ooze as big as a baby graphorn.  Black tendrils uncurled from the floating mass and reached threateningly for Gornuk’s mother.  Clearly, Voldemort’s distorted soul understood that she was the one who had reunited all the pieces of it.  Fifteen goblins moved forwards, including Gornuk, and formed a barrier between the ooze and the chanting goblin.

Lashing out with its tendrils, the ball sent many of the goblins flying yet the remaining goblins held firm.  With unmatched ferocity, they attacked the ooze and with every successful hit, the ooze released a tremendous scream.  One of the goblins threw his spear directly into the middle of the floating ball and the ball froze in mid-air as if it couldn’t comprehend that it had been pierced.

Then the ball of ooze rushed through the air, heading for the nearest wall.  When it connected, some of the ooze dripped down the wall as the ball pushed its way forward.  Your gaze darted around the chamber and you noticed Gornuk’s mother kneeling by her son’s side, cradling his head and murmuring.  His chest was moving up and down shallowly and he had a large cut on his forehead.

His mother glimpsed you moving towards him, “Goblins to (Name)!”  She directed her next words to you, “That ooze will not linger.  Use it to take you to the disgusting dark wizard!  GO!”  She commanded.

The goblins she commanded turned to you as one and waited for your command, “We end this today!”  You snarled.

The goblins cheered at your declaration and you ran unflinchingly towards the lethargically moving ooze that had been left behind.  You formed gloves with your magic to protect your hands from Voldemort’s corrupted soul and with your guarded hands, you grabbed hold of some of the ooze.

The ooze twisted around, trying to dislodge you.  Tightening your grip on the ooze, you were dimly aware of the goblins around you doing the same thing.  The ooze shrieked in protest and the noise had your ears ringing but you refused to relinquish your grip.

For the second time in a matter of days, you were soaring through the air.  This time was far less enjoyable than your previous experience.  You reminded yourself that you were fighting for Harry, for Gornuk and you wouldn’t get a better opportunity than this.

“Or another one.”

The ooze managed to shake you and the goblins free in a graveyard.  Next to a tombstone that bore the name “TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE SENIOR,” you saw a small, incredibly pale object with a snakelike face that was about the size of a small three-year-old and standing above that object was a dark grey, marble statue with a scythe.  The tip of the scythe rested inches from the pale object’s chest.

Bile rose in your throat as you realised the pale object was all that was left of Voldemort.  When Gornuk had spoken about the pieces of Voldemort’s soul slamming into his body, you had expected to see something different.  Although Voldemort’s appearance made sense considering how far he had delved into dark magic.

The ooze crept slowly over to its owner and Voldemort made a shooing gesture and whimpered.  The ooze ignored him and hooked itself around his ankle before sinking into his body.  The pitiful being let out a quiet, pained howl.

The goblins came up to stand side by side with you.  You looked to your left and your right.  None of the goblins’ faces had even an inkling of hesitation and you steeled yourself for what you were about to do.

“This is Voldemort.  If we squander this opportunity, we’re giving him a chance to rise to power again.”

“Now!”  You commanded loud enough for Voldemort to hear you.  The being turned at the sound of your voice and his snakelike eyes widened in horror as he saw the array of weapons heading his way.

At the same time, you let loose the strongest Bludgeoning curse that you had ever cast.  Your magic and the weapons connected with the writhing form of your opponent.  Voldemort didn’t stand a chance.  There was no rush of magic when he died but a sickly green Dark Mark appeared above his defeated body before eating itself.

“Is he dead?”  One of the goblins asked gruffly.  His voice was muffled as he was wearing a golden helm.

Another goblin clapped and flames surrounded Voldemort.  You stood in silence as he burned; not out of respect for the wizard but out of concern that he would give any indication that he was still alive and you didn’t want to miss any possible sign of life.

The flames died away, leaving no trace of Voldemort.

“He’s dead.”  The goblin who summoned the fire confirmed, “The fire does not lie.”

“Our weapons need to be cleansed by goblin fire.”

“Tell me where the weapons need to be sent and I will send them there magically.”  You swore.

The goblin who had spoken gave the location and you clenched your fists.  The goblin weapons rose into the air at your silent command.  You uncurled your fingers and the weapons vanished from view one by one.

When you were certain that the weapons were gone, you and the goblins worked together to remove any magical trace of you, the goblins, or Voldemort from the graveyard.  The statue that stood close to the headstone where Voldemort had been resting lowered its scythe and disappeared.

Choosing to take that as a good omen, you left the graveyard with the goblins. 

Chapter Text

The goblins had been kind enough to allow you to use their Floo again once you had returned to Gringotts.  You had thanked them for the offer and afraid of what response you would receive, you tentatively inquired about Gornuk’s and the other injured goblins’ health.

The crowd of goblins that you had fought alongside parted when they heard measured footsteps approaching.  Your skin prickled with nerves but then you saw Gornuk leading the injured goblins over to you proudly with Gornuk’s mother bringing up the rear.  Gornuk was limping and he was walking with the use of a cane but he was alive.  The cut on his forehead was no longer trickling blood.

“We are victorious!  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead!”  He roared.

Cheers erupted inside Gringotts at his declaration and lasted roughly for fifteen minutes.  When the cheers died down, you were ushered to the Floo by a goblin guard.  Stepping out of the fireplace and into your lounge room, you staggered and reached out for something to steady yourself.

You faintly registered the feel of skin against your own and hoping it was who you thought it was, you huffed out a laugh, “This is the second time that you’ve found your way into my house without a key.  Should I give you one so I can at least know that there’s a chance you may drop by?”

Ra’s al Ghul let out a quiet chuckle at your words, “He never saw you coming until it was too late.  Rest.  You must be exhausted.  I shall be here when you wake.”

“Not sure whether I should be worried about that or not,” you slurred out but obeyed the gentle order.  You felt like you had barely any energy left however you made it to your bedroom and collapsed underneath the covers after removing your footwear.

A loud crash woke you and you sat bolt upright in your bed.  The sun was hidden behind a heavy, grey cloud and it took a few minutes for your mind to remind you of the events of the previous day.  You sunk back onto your pillow with an elated smile.

“We actually did it!  Voldemort is dead!”

Too awake and giddy to go back to sleep, you made your way downstairs and were met with a strange sight.  Two of the ninjas were attempting to repair your dining table, “Do I want to know what happened?”

The two ninjas straightened up.  You couldn’t see their faces but their body language suggested they were feeling sheepish, “We were sparring and accidentally broke your table.”

“I can fix that.”

“NO!”  One of the ninjas yelled, “The boss said that you weren’t to use magic until your magical core fully recovered.  He said that would take a while since you had used a lot of your magic against Voldemort and if you rush things, you could harm yourself.”

You folded your arms across your chest, “For someone who hasn’t been a part of the magical world for over a decade, he seems to know a great deal about magical people.  How did he know that Voldemort was defeated before I told him?”

“Magical Britain’s power lies in its politics.”  Ra’s al Ghul calmly stated from behind you, “Members of the League of Shadows infiltrated the Ministry of Magic.  They trailed an influential political member of the Ministry to an unoccupied office.  The intention was to collect useful information however before the League could do so, the wizard went rigid and clutched at his left arm.  Terror overcame him and his magic reacted, lifting, and dropping items repeatedly in the office until he slumped against the wall unresponsive.  We found six other officials who had suffered the same fate.”

“They had a dark black tattoo on their arms of a skull with a snake coming out of the mouth, didn’t they?”

Ra’s al Ghul shot you a reproving look, “If you mean the Dark Mark, then yes they did.  All of them had that branded into the skin of their left forearm.”

Your brow furrowed as Ra’s once again demonstrated more understanding of Magical Britain than you had anticipated.   Your mind reminded you of the ninja’s comment about Ra’s not wanting you to use your magic until your magical core recovered.  He was right about you potentially doing more harm if you weren’t sufficiently rested before you attempted using magic again but you weren’t going to admit that “How do you know so much about Wizarding Britain when you haven’t been a part of it for over a decade?"

“Do you really believe that I wouldn’t keep my daughter under surveillance?”

“If that’s true, why didn’t you make an effort to get to know Harry or try to raise him?”

The ninjas’ heads swivelled between you and Ra’s al Ghul astonished.  Clearly, no one had ever questioned him to the extent that you were and lived to tell the tale.

“I offered my daughter protection amongst the League of Shadows.  She believed her family was safer putting their trust in friends.  To claim guardianship of Harry and acknowledge Harry as my grandson as a young child would have placed a target on his back before I had the opportunity to train him to protect himself.”

You had the distinct feeling that there was information missing from Ra’s’ explanation but there was also a tiny voice in the back of your mind warning you that you were in danger of pushing your luck, so you let the matter drop.  For now.

“By working as efficiently as you did, you have unsettled Dumbledore and removed a dangerous threat,” Ra’s uttered with pride in his voice. 

“It wasn’t just me.”  You protested, “Harry sent the…” you paused before throwing caution to the winds, “diary, which was a Horcrux, to the goblins, and from there, I worked alongside the goblins at Gringotts to defeat Voldemort.”

A deep crease appeared between Ra’s’ dark eyebrows, “What is a Horcrux?”

You proceeded to spend the next twenty minutes explaining what a Horcrux was to the leader of the League of Shadows and two of his ninjas.  By the end of your explanation the ninjas’ eyes were filled with revulsion and horror and Ra’s was outraged.

Chapter Text

“Until we can determine what has caused the deaths of several of our students and members of their families, we shall be sending you home.”  Professor Dumbledore announced to a shocked audience.

“So they still haven’t been able to figure out what killed Snape then?”  Ron muttered into Harry’s ear.

“They don’t have a clue,” Harry retorted at the same volume.

“It’s not just Hogwarts that was affected,” Hermione hissed across the table, “Durmstrang have lost their Headmaster.”

The mood on the Hogwarts Express was noticeably subdued when Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in their compartment watching the countryside fly by.  Part of the way into the journey Ron and Harry began brainstorming possible reasons for the deaths.  Hermione resisted at first and sent her two friends disapproving looks however, she relented and joined their discussion.

The train pulled into the station and after collecting his trunk and Hedwig’s cage, he walked with Ron and Hermione to the barrier that separated the Magical world from the Muggle world.  Out of the trio, Harry was the first one to walk through the disguised barrier and a smile crossed his face when he spotted you waiting in the crowd.

There was a hidden joy on your face and with dawning comprehension, Harry realised that you knew what caused the inexplicable deaths at Hogwarts.   He marched purposefully over to you and you greeted him at once.

The sunlight dimmed and part of your face was cast into shadows.  The journey from King’s Cross to your shared home didn’t take as long as Harry thought it would even with his impatience.  He understood why you didn’t suggest using the Floo Network in the Leaky Cauldron (because too many people would be doing the same thing) and he knew that you couldn’t use a portkey because groups of people vanishing and holding an object in front of them would look quite strange to the Muggles.

As a method of transport, brooms were definitely out since they were too conspicuous.  So why hadn’t you used the other method of transport that you had mentioned in his summer holidays? Apparition would have been quicker and easier.  Hedwig chirped and Harry cut his eyes over to her.  Apparition may have been quicker and easier but what if there was a chance that Hedwig could be harmed in the process?  Harry would never forgive himself if something happened to his friend.

He supposed he could have asked you to send Hedwig and his trunk ahead of you but then he remembered the warning he received from the Ministry of Magic when Dobby used magic at Number 4 Privet Drive.  With his lips parted, Harry wondered if the Ministry were unable to determine who cast magic in the Muggle world.  If they were, that was a pretty obvious weakness that was begging to be exploited.

Harry maintained a tight grip on his impatience until the two of you had entered your shared home.  He placed his trunk next to the stairs and whirled around to face you, “I know you know what happened to Voldemort.”  He asserted, “When are you going to tell me what you know?”

“Voldemort’s dead.”  You stated simply.

Of all the answers he thought he would receive, that was not one of them, “What?  When?”  

“Three days ago,” the voice of his grandfather uttered from the kitchen and Harry stared at you wide-eyed.

“What is he doing here?”  Harry demanded hotly.  “What did he mean by Voldemort dying three days ago?”

“Have a seat, Harry.  There’s a lot that I need to tell you.” You gestured to one of the chairs in the lounge.  Knowing that he wouldn’t gain anything by arguing, Harry took a seat.

“After you sent Gornuk the diary, he called me via Floo into Gringotts.  That day he presented me with three possible options.  The first option was to destroy the two soul fragments that we had and the second option was to use the soul fragments to lure the other pieces of Voldemort’s soul to Gringotts where they would be destroyed.”

You paused and Harry indicated that he understood what you had revealed so far.

“Both of those options weren’t good enough as they would have provided Voldemort with time to marshal his forces and seek revenge.  Also, there was the chance that Dumbledore could have learned what we were planning to do and….”

“Manipulated the situation to his advantage.”  Harry added helpfully, “Ron, Hermione, and I were doing a bit of thinking and we noticed patterns in our first and second years at Hogwarts that made us think that events happened by design and not by coincidence.”

You frowned, “We need to have a talk about your first and second years at Hogwarts later.”

Harry nodded; he had been expecting that.  He wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.  “So if you and Gornuk rejected the first two options, what did that leave you with?”

“Our third and final option was to use the soul fragments as a magnet and when they were all together in the same room, use a goblin Banishing spell to banish all the fragments back into Voldemort.  Out of all the options, that option would have given Voldemort the smallest amount of time to marshal his forces.”

Harry leaned forwards, “You went with that option.”

“We did.  Gornuk’s mother united all the soul fragments in one room.  Voldemort’s soul pieces weren’t happy to be reunited with each other and naturally, they put up a fight.”

“Naturally.”  Harry echoed, “Was anyone hurt?”

You nodded, “Many goblins were hurt, including Gornuk.  He’s recovering well and so are the other goblins,” you added hastily when you saw Harry’s expression.  “Along with a group of goblins, I followed the trail of Voldemort’s soul to, well…the remains of Voldemort, and with the help of those very angry and bloodthirsty goblins, we ensured that Voldemort was defeated for good.”

Awed, Harry could only stare at you, “You…you accomplished what Wizarding Britain has struggled to do for just under twenty years.  But you still haven’t explained what he’s” Harry scowled and pointed in the direction of his grandfather, “doing here.”

“When Voldemort died, he took the Death Eaters with him.  Your grandfather came to check up on me and…”

“I urged her to rest after she nearly tumbled out of the fireplace due to almost magically exhausting herself in the battle with Voldemort,” Ra’s al Ghul finished your sentence.  He dried his hands on a hand towel as he walked into the lounge room.

“She was unconscious for two days.”  He continued.

That got your attention, “I thought it was only one day.”

Harry’s grandfather shook his head, “It was two.”

You brushed your hand across your forehead and winced.

“What’s wrong?”  Harry demanded with an urgent tone, “Are you okay?  We can continue this later if you need to rest.”

“There’s no need for that.  I’m fine.  To answer your question, the longer a witch or wizard is unconscious, the higher the risk that they’ll cause irreparable damage to their magical core if they attempt to use magic and their core hasn’t fully recovered.”

“Now do you understand why I didn’t want you magically repairing the kitchen table?”

“What’s wrong with the kitchen table?”  Harry queried.

“Nothing now.  It’s been replaced.  Two members of the League of Shadows were sparring and they collided with the table.”

Harry noticed that there was a fondness in Ra’s voice as he spoke to you.  Harry wrinkled his nose and chose to focus on a safer subject, “So Voldemort’s death killed his Death Eaters.  Okay, got that.  That explains Snape and Karkaroff’s deaths.  Can we do anything about Dumbledore?  He’s been manipulating me and countless others throughout my time at Hogwarts and I think he may have meddled in my life before I found out that I’m a wizard.”

“The League of Shadows is collecting information and we will use that information to destroy your Headmaster’s standing in the Wizarding World.”

“How?  The only things that the purebloods understand is influence and power.  You’ll never be able to convince them to turn on Dumbledore without concrete proof and even if you did manage to convince the majority of them, there would still be a portion of witches and wizards loyal to him.”

“What are you thinking Harry?”

Harry focused on you, “That lady who wrote the article about the chaos at the Quidditch World Cup, can she be trusted to report accurately?”

You laughed hollowly, “Not a chance.  Rita Skeeter isn’t known for her factual interviews.  She uses a Quick Quotes Quill that…exaggerates the truth to grab her reader’s attention.”

“But if the truth were already sensational, could she be persuaded not to use her Quill?  Especially if the source revealing the information had fame and political influence.”

“There are other reporters Harry.”  You refused, “She…” you shook your head.  “We need someone with a persuasive touch and Rita Skeeter isn’t known for that.  She’s known for writing slanderous poison pen articles that are intended to provoke an instant reaction but after that initial reaction, there is rarely any follow-up action and that’s what we need.  I’m not going to put you in that situation.”

“Well, is there another type of newspaper?”  Harry threw up his hands in annoyance, “We just need to sew the seed of doubt in people’s minds about Dumbledore.”

You considered Harry’s suggestion, “There’s one.  Its editor is happy to be perceived as eccentric and there are some wizards who read it just for fun and don’t take it seriously but there are others who are devoted fans of the newspaper and if your interview is printed, it will spur the Daily Prophet on to do their research.  I like this option better.  You’re not giving an interview to Rita Skeeter but you’re opening the door for her and others like her to do research and come to the same conclusions that we want them to.  With the Prophet’s resources, they’ll be able to reach a wider audience and we can convince the purebloods that way.”

“If the same information is repeated in two different newspapers, that’ll convince people that it’s true as well,”  Harry added.

Harry’s grandfather was silent and Harry chanced a glance up at him.  Their eyes met and Ra’s inclined his head in approval.  A warm feeling spread through Harry’s chest at the action.

“So, who’s going to be interested in interviewing me?”

Chapter Text

The instant that Harry met Xenophilius Lovegood, he understood why you had described him as ‘happy to be perceived as eccentric.’  The man’s demeanour had people ducking their heads to avoid eye contact as Xenophilius walked towards the private booth in the Leaky Cauldron that had been created for them with a teenager in tow.

You and Harry stood as Xenophilius and his guest drew closer and Harry reflected on why this particular pub had been chosen.  During Harry, his grandfather, and your discussion about where the interview should take place, Harry suggested two other venues.  The Hog’s Head Inn and The Three Broomsticks.

Harry’s grandfather had demonstrated an unnerving understanding of Wizarding Britain when Harry had suggested the Hog’s Head Inn.  Harry had barely paused to take a breath when his grandfather refused to consider the option of being interviewed at the Hog’s Head Inn.  Harry didn’t even have time to protest before Ra’s al Ghul had listed his reasons.  The first and probably the most compelling reason was that the owner of the Hog’s Head Inn was Dumbledore’s brother.

Harry’s breath whooshed out of him at that revelation.  It was weird to consider that his Headmaster had a family of his own.

Despite Ra’s explaining that the two brothers weren’t close, there was still too much of a risk that Dumbledore would find out about the interview from his brother, or someone else, and thwart their efforts.  This was a shame since the end goal was to have as many people finding out about Dumbledore’s manipulations and the Hog’s Head would have been perfect as few people visited the Inn and there was a greater chance that many people would overhear the interview. 

“Plus,” you had interjected.  “Imagine how Xenophilius would feel if someone published your interview with him before he did.”

The second reason was that the place was grimy and not properly maintained (Harry privately thought that was his grandfather’s first reason due to the face he pulled when he was describing the inn’s interior).  The third reason was that it was in Hogsmeade and too close to Hogwarts which meant that it was too close to Dumbledore and the last reason was that the Hog’s Head Inn had the reputation of attracting a rather interesting group of clientele.

Then Harry had suggested The Three Broomsticks.  That pub always drew a large crowd, so there would be less chance of them being overheard and Madame Rosmerta didn’t have any familial connection to Dumbledore.  Harry looked to his grandfather for confirmation on that last point.

This time, you were the one to reject his suggestion.  While it was true that The Three Broomsticks drew a larger crowd, it was still too close to Hogwarts.  “Besides,” you reasoned, “a large crowd could be used against us.  It’d be far too easy for someone in the crowd to slip away and inform Dumbledore what we’re up to.  He’d arrive at The Three Broomsticks before Xenophilius moved past the pleasantries.”

So Harry suggested the last place he could think of.  The Leaky Cauldron.  The longer Harry thought about that venue, the more he realised it was poetic.  The Leaky Cauldron was the first step into the Wizarding World that he had taken when he was eleven and it was the point where the Muggle and Magical worlds connected – very much like the barrier at King’s Cross station.

You couldn’t remove the possibility of being overheard entirely but it was possible to minimise it.  The Leaky Cauldron had private, enchanted booths and Tom had no connection to Dumbledore (Harry’s grandfather had thoroughly checked).   The best part was that it was far away from Hogwarts and the majority of the purebloods viewed the Leaky Cauldron as being beneath them as it is the entry point to the magical world from Muggle London.

A flicker of movement caught Harry’s eye as Xenophilius and his guest drew level with them.  Harry was certain that his catching that movement was not coincidental.  Harry’s grandfather had ordered a small group of members of the League of Shadows to watch over the two of you while he attended to business elsewhere.  A tiny part of Harry was relieved; he may have been slowly coming around to the fact that his grandfather was a criminal mastermind with a set of skills who wanted to be part of his life but he couldn’t shake the feeling that if you had asked Ra’s al Ghul to be there with you during the interview, Ra’s would have found a way to watch over the both of you personally from the shadows.

On this occasion, Harry liked that it was just the two of you if he didn’t count the ninjas.

“Thank you for your owl, Mr. Potter,” Xenophilius spoke.  “May I introduce you to my daughter, Luna?  She attends Hogwarts as you do, Mr. Potter, however, she is in her third year and was Sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Harry greeted her sincerely, holding his hand out for her to shake.  Luna placed her hand in his and shook it.

“You are a great mystery, Harry Potter.”  She stated with a dreamlike quality to her voice, “In the past, mystery and fear have often accompanied one another.”

Luna’s eyes were a startling mix of silver, blue, and grey and were just as piercing as her father’s.  He had watched the interaction between the two teenagers with interest but then he switched his focus over to you.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance.   The elves and Veela always have interesting things to comment about you.”

You bowed your head and returned the greeting, complimenting Xenophilius on the dedication that he had demonstrated when it came to reporting on a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy.  Due to Xenophilius' continued coverage of the breach, the British Ministry of Magic had to step in and this paved the way for one of the treaties that you negotiated.

As Harry was the one to extend the invitation for the interview, he felt that it fell to him to offer Xenophilius and Luna seats in the booth.  Xenophilius surprised him by withdrawing a long roll of parchment, a Self-Inking Quill, and a recording device.  Xenophilius followed Harry’s gaze to the recording device.

“Meaning isn’t simply expressed through words.  It is shown in tone and pitch.  If I do not record those as they occur, I risk giving my audience the wrong impression.”

“That makes sense,” Harry thought.   Xenophilius powered up the device and then signalled that the interview was about to begin.

Chapter Text

Harry was eating breakfast the next day when a barn owl soared through the open window and dropped a rolled-up copy of the Quibbler next to his plate.  Hedwig clicked her beak in annoyance and before Harry could even think of dashing up to his room to find some Knuts to pay the owl, the owl departed soundlessly.

Setting his food to the side (he didn’t have to worry about Dudley stealing it or giving himself indigestion to prevent Dudley from stealing it anymore), he uncurled the newspaper and read the front page.

A grin grew across his face as he read the headline and the article.  The longer he read, the more relieved he became that you had pushed him to choose someone other than Rita Skeeter to interview him.  Xenophilius had a way of writing that drew you into his work and made you want to read more.  Harry found himself reading the interview despite knowing exactly how it had gone.  Everything they had discussed was printed in the article.  Harry’s leg twitched when he read what he had said about the Dursleys.  He had the weird feeling that he had said too much while saying very little.

Then Harry moved on to his recount of his years at Hogwarts: the only thing that he omitted was the fact that the Sorting Hat wanted to place him in Slytherin and that was only because he thought that it would add fuel to the fire if Dumbledore attempted to discredit him. 

Reading his responses in the interview; it was glaringly obvious that Dumbledore overstepping his bounds as Headmaster at Hogwarts while simultaneously underperforming in his responsibilities as Headmaster of Hogwarts.  Harry racked his brain as he tried to remember whether Hermione had ever mentioned that her parents received a letter about her Petrification in her second year or the end-of-year events that took place in Harry’s first year.  Xenophilius even implied that Dumbledore was too used to wielding the power that he had gained by defeating Grindelwald in 1945.

“He has a point,” Harry conceded, rolling up the newspaper again so that he could take it to show you and his grandfather once he had finished his breakfast.  “How insane do you have to be to introduce a three-headed dog into a school to protect a stone that belongs to your friend or to hire a professor when it’s incredibly obvious that he has nothing worthwhile to teach the students?  No one can convince me that we’re ever going to need to know what Gilderoy Lockhart’s favourite colour was to perform any type of job.  When is that going to be useful in our lives?”

Finishing his breakfast, Harry set out to find you and his grandfather.  He searched for the two of you throughout the house but had no luck in finding you.  Harry walked through the house again, using all of his senses to try and find any clues that would indicate your whereabouts.

“They can’t have gone and just left me here alone,” Harry tried to reason with himself in spite of his rising panic.  “They’re not like the Dursleys.  Not like anyone else on Earth could be as foul as them.  Except maybe Dumbledore, Voldemort, and the Death Eaters.”

An idea struck Harry and he bolted out of the house onto the large, grassy field that he had spent so much time flying around during the summer holidays.  He froze on the edge of the lawn as his mind processed what his eyes were showing him.

You and his grandfather were locked in a duel and in that moment, Harry understood Ron’s fascination with learning how a magical adult fought.  Sparks danced around you as you evaded Ra’s al Ghul’s blows.  The two of you wore expressions of deep concentration as the duel continued.  Harry’s eyes widened as he registered the fact that his grandfather was using a sword, an actual sword to attack you.  He also seemed frustrated by the fact that you were operating on the defensive.  Harry hoped that it was because you were waiting for an opening not because you were outmatched in your duel.

Ra’s swung at your legs with his sword.  The blade missed you but it got a little too close for Harry’s comfort.   It seemed that you had been waiting for an opportunity such as this because before Ra’s could swing again, his sword vanished from his hand.

Amazed, Harry watched as his grandfather effortlessly switched to hand-to-hand combat forcing you on the defensive once again.  Harry was about to call out and announce his presence when Ra’s managed to catch a hold of your wrist that was closest to him.

Harry was frozen to the spot as Ra’s used his grip on your wrist to yank you to him.  His free hand grabbed onto your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as he kissed you soundly.  His hand quickly moved from gripping your shoulder to cupping the back of your head.  Harry’s mouth opened but no sound came out and not wanting to watch the two of you any longer, for fear that he’d lose his breakfast, Harry retreated into the house.

“There is no way that I’ll ever be able to get that image out of my mind,” Harry shuddered as he climbed the steps to his room trying to think about something, anything to avoid reliving what he’d just seen.

Hedwig raised her head from her wing as Harry fell face forward onto his bed, “Humans are weird Hedwig.”

His owl let out a hoot of agreement.

Chapter Text

The Quibbler fell from the Minister’s limp hand as he stared vacantly at the beautifully decorated office.  At the beginning of his tenure as the Minister for Magic, the office had a much different appearance.  The picture of him and his wife had been proudly displayed on his desk for everyone to see the minute they entered his office.

At the peak of You-Know-Who’s power, many purebloods had wrinkled their noses as they entered the office.  Keenly aware that he could not afford to lose support from the purebloods, Fudge began to make changes to his office.

The furniture was the first change that Cornelius authorised.  He had it replaced with a more expensive set.  Then he changed the desk that countless of his predecessors had sat at because he noticed the purebloods expressing their version of polite displeasure whenever they gazed at it.  Had Cornelius stopped and thought for a moment, he would have questioned why the furniture and desk were in such good condition and why there had only been whispers about the meetings and briefings that unfolded in the Minister for Magic’s office.  But he didn’t and so, when he replaced the furniture and the desk, because he didn’t know about the powerful silencing charms and the Unbreakable Oath charms on the items, the whispers became loud gossip.

For a time, these changes appeared to appease the purebloods.  They began to visit Fudge regularly, providing him with tips and hints.  With the implementation of each suggestion, Fudge cemented his once-rocky standing with the pureblood elite.  Around this time, the picture of Fudge and his wife was relegated to the bookcase out of sight and the picture frame soon acquired a dusty coat.

As phrases from Harry Potter’s interview with the Quibbler ran rampant in his mind, Fudge’s gaze fell on the Triwizard Cup that had been returned to his office when Hogwarts had closed for the staff and Aurors to investigate the unusual deaths at Hogwarts.

“Why does it always come back to Hogwarts?” The Minister thought with a groan, rubbing at his temples. 

The second the Minister thought about Hogwarts, memories surfaced from his time at the school.  Leaning back in his chair and losing himself in the nostalgia, Cornelius reflected on his experiences during Hogwarts and after he had graduated.  His chair wobbled and Cornelius grabbed at his desk to steady himself.  The movement caused his eyes to fall on the discarded newspaper which rested on his desk.

“Being Sorted into Slytherin taught me the value of alliances.  It’s time that I repay the favour and reach out to young Mr. Potter.  He will need someone to help him navigate the troubled waters he will no doubt find himself in because he spoke out against Dumbledore.  Mr. Potter will require assistance to understand his place in Wizarding Britain.  He is among the elite and who better to guide him into accepting that role than the Minister for Magic?  It’s not as if his new guardian can provide him with any substantial support as she doesn’t understand the intricacies of our politics.”

Satisfied with his plan and the future that he could see unfolding in front of his eyes with Harry Potter by his side, Fudge hauled himself out of his chair and opened the door to his office.  He greeted a few of the more influential purebloods until he spotted the person he was searching for.  The young man was easy to spot with his vivid red hair and Fudge called out, “Mr. Weasley, can you run an errand for me?”

The recent Hogwarts graduate started at the sound of his name and his eyes widened comically when he realised who was addressing him.

“Yes!  Of course!  What can I assist you with Minister?”

“I’d like you to send Dolores Umbridge to my office as promptly as possible following her meeting with Amelia Bones.”

Chapter Text

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic, Mr. Potter and Ms (Surname),” the witch dressed in all pink simpered.  “I am Delores Umbridge, the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and I want to express my deepest condolences for the treatment that you have endured at the hands of Albus Dumbledore due to his mismanaging of the many situations you have found yourself in.  Had you been raised in our world, the right world, perhaps he would not have dared to meddle so.”

“Thank you for your invitation to the Ministry of Magic, Madam Umbridge,” Harry replied smoothly.

“Please follow me so that we can speak in my office.”  The witch stated.  She pivoted on her heel and imperiously strode through the atrium.

“Have you been taking flattery lessons with your grandfather and forgotten to tell me?”  You jested.  Harry floundered and didn’t meet your eyes.

“We don’t want to keep her waiting,” he stammered before following your guide across the floor.  Confused about his reaction, you caught up with the still-flustered teen and together you moved through the Ministry of Magic.

“Hey,” you said, reaching out and gently grabbing onto Harry’s upper arm.  “We can still turn around.”  You dropped your voice and created an invisible soundproof bubble around you that would prevent your conversation from being overheard by any passers-by.  “There are other ways to undermine Dumbledore that don’t involve the Ministry of Magic.  Everyone here has their agenda and none more so than Umbridge.”

“I haven’t forgotten what you told me when her letter arrived,” Harry assured you.  “I want to do this.  I want to show the world that I am not Dumbledore’s to manipulate.”

“Yes, but we’re walking into her office.  Everything about this meeting has been arranged to provide her and the Ministry with a large number of advantages.”

“Pride goeth before a fall,” Harry quoted.  “It’s been the same whenever I faced Voldemort.  He’d gloat or launch into a monologue which gave me time to react.  If Umbridge and the Ministry want something from us; their familiar surroundings can be used against them.”

“Are you two all right?”

You and Harry glanced in the direction that Umbridge’s voice had come from.  You wondered if Harry could detect the faux concern on her face that you could.  You forced a smile and cancelled the bubble, “We’re fine, thank you.”

“I asked a question about the different departments that make up the Ministry of Magic and (Name) was explaining their purposes to me as well as how they liaise.”  Harry lied.

Your host smiled, “It is a pity that you didn’t attend Hogwarts, Ms (Surname).”  You and Harry walked over to her.  “With your intelligence, I’m sure that you would have made all the right connections.  It’s not too much farther to my office from here.”

From that point onwards, your guide ensured that there were no more opportunities for you to talk to Harry without her overhearing you.  Keeping up the façade, you explained the departments at the Ministry as if you were continuing your discussion from earlier.  Harry cottoned onto your plan and asked questions to keep the conversation flowing.

“Ah, here we are,” Umbridge remarked, coming to a stop in front of a bright pink door.   Reaching for her wand, she withdrew it from her pocket and gave it a quick flick.  The door creaked as if it were resisting her magic.  A glower became visible on her face and she flicked her wand again.   This time the door opened.

“I must file a maintenance report.  The hinges have always been stubborn.”

You and Harry carefully avoided looking at each other as you entered Umbridge’s office behind the witch.  The interior of the office was as eye-catching as the exterior.  The walls were the same bright pink colour as the door.  Plates with magical cats frolicking around hung on the four walls and towards the back of the room, there was a heavy, ornate desk with three uncomfortable-looking chairs arranged around it.

“Please sit.”  The witch gestured, “Tea?”

Harry looked to you for guidance nervously as the two of you sat down.  You were right about the chairs being uncomfortable.  It was obvious that Harry remembered your warning about Umbridge’s tendency to add Veritaserum to the drinks that she offered her guests however he was unsure how he could politely refuse the offer since you were her guests.

“Unfortunately, the nutrient potions that Harry is currently taking will react negatively with any homemade drinks.  I remember hearing stories about how you brew your tea – that takes a lot of talent and magical skill.”

“For yourself then?”

“It is not fair for me to consume something when Harry is unable to.  We both appreciate the offer.”

“Onto business then.  As I mentioned earlier, Mr. Potter, the Ministry was horrified to learn of the mistreatment that you suffered at the hands of your relatives and at Hogwarts.  As you were Sorted into Gryffindor, you haven’t experienced the value that meaningful alliances can bestow.  To correct this, the Ministry is prepared to send an official to fill the gaps in your knowledge while facilitating opportunities for you to make sustainable connections with the right people.  This official will also determine whether your current living situation is the best one for you.”

“And where would I go if it were determined by the Ministry official that my current living situation isn’t the best option?”  Harry queried with a steely tone.

“The official would provide the Ministry with a list of appropriate families who would be more than willing to adopt you into their lives and show you the proper traditions.”

You were incredibly grateful that the magical bond you shared with Harry did not broadcast your emotions because right now, it was taking every fibre in your being to remain calm and not give into the fury coursing through your veins.  First Dumbledore wanted to take Harry away and now the Ministry?     

“Why do the people of Magical Britain not understand that magic is a gift, not a right?”

A heartbeat later, your mind provided you with the answer, “Because their whole society is built upon having magic.  They’ve never experienced a day or any kind of ongoing situation where they didn’t have magic at their disposal which makes them unqualified to understand the pressures that Muggle-raised half-bloods and Muggleborns experience when they are introduced to Magical Britain.”

Harry kept his temper and voice controlled as he wrapped up the conversation and stood up to leave.  Umbridge gazed at you as you stood up as well with a sickeningly sweet smile stretched across her face and her hands clasped together on her desk.

“Thank you for your words and your time today, Madam Undersecretary.  I assure you that we will not forget what you have told us.”

The witch didn’t escort you to her door which reinforced all of the rumours you had heard about her.  Harry resolutely stayed by your side until the two of you reached the atrium.  At your nod, he went through the Floo first and then you followed him, taking special care to lock the grate behind you.  Many witches and wizards locked the Floo after a certain time in the day, so your action wouldn’t arouse any suspicion.

“I need to clear my head.  Can I go flying on my broom?”

“Of course Harry.”

Chapter Text

Harry couldn’t stop replaying the conversation that had taken place earlier in the day.  Even the wind whipping through his hair as he glided far above the city could drown out his rage at Umbridge and the Ministry’s attempt to control him and mould him into the person they wanted.  As Harry zig zagged through the air, swooping underneath the clouds, and then shooting back into the skies, he focused on his rage and used it to organise his thoughts.

“It all cycles back to Umbridge.  She told us that she was going to file the paperwork tonight.  The conversation today was just a formality, a cross on a piece of parchment.  If I can prevent her from filing that paperwork, she can’t submit the paperwork.  She probably raced over to Fudge the second we left the Ministry to crow about her victory.  I wouldn’t expect anything less.  But he can’t do anything if the paperwork isn’t filed or present and it would take time to organise the paperwork before she could begin to fill it out.  Fudge won’t admit to anything if this plan goes wrong but he’ll take credit for it if it unfolds exactly how he wants it to.”

Harry pointed the nose of his Firebolt at the ground and descended at a rapid speed, planning to talk to his grandfather.  His mind replayed the image of your kiss and Harry winced.  He focused on the memory that he used in his Dementor lessons with Professor Lupin and the image of you and his grandfather faded away.

Harry landed on the field and dismounted his broom with practiced ease.  “Wood would be proud that his lessons stuck with me after he left Hogwarts.”  He thought with amusement.

He noticed a shadow on the ground next to him and realised that he wasn’t alone on the grassy plain.

“Jackson filled me in about what the Minister for Magic is planning to do.”  Ra’s mentioned, “Judging by your troubled expression, the matters you discussed in Delores Umbridge’s office were not pleasant.”

A muscle twitched in Harry’s jaw, “They want to mould me into their version of the Boy-Who-Lived.”  He spat, “They want me to be their poster boy and adopt all of the traditions that were kept from me.  Umbridge is planning to send an official” Harry put finger quotes around the word in case his grandfather missed the disdain dripping from his lips, “and there’s no doubt that the official will issue several recommendations to her boss.  One of which will be that I am removed from (Name)’s care and adopted into a family who will show me the proper wizarding traditions.”

Ra’s’ face went cold, “First Dumbledore, and now the Ministry?  When the forest grows too wild, a purging fire is inevitable and natural.  The other magical societies will watch as Magical Britain destroys itself through its own arrogance.”

“I’m not living with another magical family.  I’ll swear it on my magic!”

“Don’t make reckless oaths!”  His grandfather spoke angrily, “Especially ones regarding your magic.”

Harry bristled at the harsh tone and glared at the man, “I’m going inside.”  He muttered.

“If I can sneak out of my room and find a way to unlock the Floo before it becomes too late, I can sneak back into the Ministry and convince Umbridge not to proceed with her plan.  Maybe I can make her drink some of her Veritaserum-laced tea and record the secrets that she spills.  That should be enough to convince the Minister to leave me and my family alone.”

“I didn’t say that you should abandon your planning,” Ra’s uttered as Harry’s hand brushed against the door handle that led into the back of the house.

“How do you know I am planning something?”  Harry fired back.

“You are far too like your mother and your guardian to not be planning something.”  Harry thought that was all the man was going to say but then his hearing picked up the other sentence that his grandfather said in a lower tone, “You’re too much like me to entertain the thought of doing nothing.”

Harry turned his head slightly, “I’m listening.”

“Remind me again why I was brought along for this mission?”  Jackson muttered as he padded behind Harry later that day.  There was a chill in the air as the afternoon transformed into the evening.

“Because you know more about the world that we’re heading into than I do.”  Harry snapped.  “Besides, you owe me.  Remember that little trip across the world you surprised me with?  Now shut up.”

“Temper, temper.”  Jackson chided.  Harry shot him an unimpressed look as the two of them slipped into the Leaky Cauldron.  The Cauldron was busy with many Muggle-born witches and wizards stopping by after their workday at the Ministry of Magic.  Harry and Jackson had timed their arrival at the Cauldron for that particular reason.  No one would bat an eyelid at two wizards using the Floo.  As long as they didn’t shout that they were going to the British Ministry of Magic, no one would interfere with what they were planning.

Harry climbed into the grate and in the quietest, most assured voice that he could muster, he threw the powder into the flames.  When the world stopped spinning, he climbed out of the grate and coughed to clear his windpipe.  Jackson climbed out of the grate next to him, “Travelling by Floo is always such a thrilling experience.”  Jackson commented sarcastically.

Harry snorted; he wasn’t expecting to find common ground with the assassin over methods of magical transport.  He watched as Jackson grabbed a handful of Floo powder and clenched it tightly in his fist.  When Jackson released the powder, it was a pale blue instead of an earthy brown.

“Little trick I learned from a shaman.  This grate will stay open as long as we want it to.  No one else will access it.  If they come near it, they will suddenly remember an urgent task.”

Harry nodded as the flames blazed blue and his grandfather stepped out of the grate.  With a displeased expression, his grandfather dusted himself off.

“This way,” Harry instructed.  The atrium wasn’t as busy as it was when you and Harry left the Ministry but there were still people milling around which would come in handy when the three of them needed to make their escape from the Ministry. 

Halfway through their trek, Harry began to worry that they had taken a wrong turn.  “If we’ve gone the wrong way, I’ve given Umbridge more time to complete and file the paperwork!  This passageway doesn’t look familiar at all; oh Merlin.  What have I done?”

Unwilling to admit his mistake to his grandfather and Jackson but knowing he needed to, Harry braced himself to deliver the news.  He had just opened his mouth when a small ball of light appeared directly over his palm.

“So you’re a lantern now?”

Harry ignored Jackson’s jibe and stared at the ball of light, “Can you take us where we need to go?”

The ball bobbed in the air once.

“Can anyone aside from us see you?”

The ball moved in the air from side to side.

The instant Harry decided to go, the ball of light illuminated the end of the corridor.  When the trio reached the end, it moved over to Harry’s right-hand side and blinked once.  They followed the ball of light all the way to Umbridge’s office and upon reaching the destination, the light winked out of existence.  Harry didn’t get a chance to say thank you before the door opened and Umbridge peered up at him.

“Mr. Potter?  I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.  Come in!  I’ve just finished filling in your paperwork.”

Harry forced a friendly smile to appear on his face, “That’s precisely what I wanted to talk about.”  He stepped into the office and Jackson and Ra’s were quick to mimic him.  Umbridge hadn’t lied.  There on her desk sat a small stack of papers and Harry could spot his name on the cover sheet.

“Tea, Mr. Potter?”

Harry’s smile lost some of its friendliness, “(Name) told you that I couldn’t have your tea.”

“I was under the impression that she was refusing the offer to be difficult.  People change when they’re exposed to fame even if the fame isn’t theirs.”

“You are correct.  Fame does indeed change a person,” Ra’s dipped his head and Umbridge seemed to notice him for the first time. 

“I don’t believe we’ve met, Mr…”

“Ducard.”

Umbridge stretched out her hand and Harry feared that his grandfather would accept and shake it.  He shouldn’t have worried.  His grandfather moved with the same speed that Harry had witnessed in your duels with him.  One minute the sleeve of Umbridge’s robes had slid down her arm exposing the skin on her wrist as she offered her hand, and the next minute, Umbridge’s wrists were cuffed together.

“How dare you?  Release me at once!”  She demanded shrilly.

“I’m not surprised that you don’t recognise those handcuffs,” Ra’s stated conversationally, ignoring her high-pitched words.  “They’re not widely popular here though I had hoped that you would at least recognise the runes etched into them.”

With a gasp of horror, Umbridge stared down at her bound wrists, “These are cuffs that remove all of the magic that the person wearing them possesses.  How did you get these?  They were outlawed thirty years ago.”

“How I acquired them is none of your concern,” Ra’s replied lowly.  He met Jackson’s eyes and jerked his head.  Jackson obeyed the command and gleefully grabbed a hold of the witch’s lurid pink robes.  Using his grip on her robes, he tugged her over to her chair and with a vindictive shove, sent her sprawling into the seat.  Jackson stood next to the witch as Ra’s took a seat.

“There are stories of you using your tea to illicit confessions illegally on magical people that you view as being lower in status than you,” he remarked mildly.  Comprehension dawned on Umbridge’s face as she wiggled around in her chair trying to sit up.  After a few moments of trying and failing, she settled for sending Ra’s, Harry, and Jackson contemptuous looks.

“I have never witnessed the effect of Veritaserum on a Muggle before.”

Taking the hint from his grandfather, Harry withdrew his wand from his sleeve.  There was a rattling sound and a matching pink teapot and teacup rose into the air.  The cup vanished from the silver tray it sat on and appeared on Umbridge’s lap. 

The teapot floated over and began pouring liquid into the cup.  

“Tea Dolores?”  Harry inquired with a faux polite tone and a menacing smile.  The teacup must have had a type of compulsion embedded in it.  The expression on Umbridge’s face turned beseeching while simultaneously, her shaking hands lifted the full teacup to her lips.

Chapter Text

“Dad?  What are you doing at home?  Why aren’t you at the Ministry?”

Arthur Weasley was beyond tired, “The deaths at Hogwarts and Harry’s Quibbler interview forced the Ministry into closure.” He explained, removing his glasses and rubbing his dry, aching eyes.  “All the Heads of families, yes Molly even the Muggleborns, were told to return home indefinitely.”

“Four years of being friends with Harry and I’m still not used to the surprises that get thrown our way,” Ron thought in wonder.

Ginny and the twins appeared in the doorway that led to the staircase, “Dad, are you calling a family meeting?” George asked, his face was pale and completely devoid of humour.  Ron looked at his dad, his older brothers, his younger sister, and then back at his dad. He had a faint memory of Bill telling him about the first and only time their dad called a family meeting; at that time the purpose of the meeting was to tell Bill and Charlie that their uncles, Fabian and Gideon had died.

“What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this house until it’s announced in the paper.”

“Arthur?”

“Delores Umbridge was found in her office this morning,” he revealed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “Her body was completely drained of magic and there was an empty teacup in front of her.  The Unspeakables confirmed the rumour that she laced her teas with Veritaserum when they examined her body and found traces of it in her system.”

“What or who could’ve drained her magic?” Ginny asked as a memory flashed in her mind of her lying helpless on the cold stone floor in the Chamber of Secrets and she shuddered in response.

Her dad shook his head, “No one knows the answers to those questions yet, Ginny.”

“From”

“The stories”

“We’ve heard”

“She didn’t have”

“That much magic”

“To begin with.”

Arthur sighed, having no trouble following what his twin sons were saying, “That’s true and she wasn’t well-liked at the Ministry, despite her attempts to pretend otherwise.  She made no friends with the talented Muggleborns who worked in the departments around her.”

Ron tipped his head to the side as his dad’s words caused a memory from his first year at Hogwarts to resurface, “Mum?”

“Yes dear?”

“In my first year at Hogwarts and Fred and George’s third, why did you announce that the platform was packed with Muggles?  If Malfoy, another pureblood, or a high-ranking Ministry official heard what you said, they could’ve arrested you for breaking the Statute of Secrecy.”

Molly frowned at her youngest son, “I did that?”

Fred nodded, “Never did it before or after, just that year.”

“Just the year Harry Potter started at Hogwarts,” Ginny muttered under her breath hoping that her words were quiet enough for her mum not to hear them but Molly Weasley had raised seven children, and her senses were always prepared for the barest hint of a whisper that indicated her children were up to mischief.

“Arthur, cast a detection charm on me.”

With his brow furrowed and lips pursed, Arthur followed his wife’s instruction.   The purpose of a detection charm was to identify whether an individual was spelled.  If the tip of the caster’s wand glowed orange there was no spell or enchantment detected however, if the tip of the caster’s wand glowed blue, that indicated that a spell or enchantment was placed on an individual but it had worn off.

There was one more possibility.  If the caster’s wand and the individual both glowed magenta, that indicated that not only had the individual been spelled and the enchantment had worn off but also that the bewitched individual’s memories had been altered in the process.  There hadn’t been a record of that happening in Magical Britain since Wendelin the Weird’s mother.

The tip of Arthur Weasley’s wand glowed magenta.

So did Molly Weasley.

Outside of Magical Britain, Harry tentatively peeked around the doorway.   The teen wasn’t sure what he’d see and his legs tensed just in case he had to speed away.  He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he saw that you and his grandfather were simply playing chess.  His grandfather wore a smirk (Harry noticed with a jolt that it was identical to the smirk he wore) when you sacrificed a pawn to take Ra's knight.

“Watcha doin’?” A voice singsonged into his ear.

Harry waved his hand at Jackson to get him to shut up.  The man merely chuckled, straightened up, and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he did so.

“Do you think they won’t kiss if you’re watching them?”

Harry turned around, “Don’t you understand when it’s time to shut up?” He seethed.

The assassin shrugged in response, “I do and I don’t care.”

Harry rolled his eyes and deciding that spying on the two of you was a lost cause, he stalked away.

“What’s your problem?”  Jackson called after him.

“And again with the not shutting up.”

“Nothing,” Harry ground out.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.  Seem’s like you’re all bent out of shape ‘cause you’ve realised that your grandfather’s romantically interested in (Name) and you’re not sure how to feel about that.”

“I know how I’ll feel when you all leave and he breaks her heart.”  Harry spat back.

That wiped the smirk off of Jackson’s face, “You…He wouldn’t…There’s no way…He’s not like that.”

“You don’t sound so convinced.”

Jackson steeled himself, “Don’t think for one minute that he’d be sticking around or putting this much effort into bringing down Dumbledore and Voldemort if he didn’t care for either of you,” he retorted lowly.  “I’ve seen him bring down governments with half a plan and a whispered command.”

Jackson brushed past Harry, “And for your information, Harry,” he called over his shoulder, not bothering to keep his voice down.  “(Name) wouldn’t have kissed your grandfather back if she didn’t feel the same way.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, when Harry woke, the air was filled with tension.  The teen sat up and pulled his legs up to his chest, puzzling over why the air felt so oppressive.  His mind ran through multiple possibilities, and he even considered one where a furious and desperate Voldemort rose again because he’d made and hidden another Horcrux.

Harry paused and shook his head, dismissing that thought, “That’s ludicrous even by Wizarding Britain’s standards.  The goblins wouldn’t be that careless.  (Name) wouldn’t be that careless.”  He flopped back down into his bed and, closing his eyes, tried to go back to sleep.  When sleep eluded him, without opening his eyes, Harry pulled his pillow from underneath his head so he had something to scream into.

Giving up on the idea of sleeping in, Harry made his way to the dining room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went.  After he’d lowered his hands, he stared at the dining table, his mind not comprehending what his eyes were seeing.

There, in front of his placemat, was his old holly and phoenix feather wand lying horizontally across an official-looking envelope from the Ministry of Magic.  Months ago, before he’d met you or his grandfather, Harry would have darted forwards and scooped up his wand before he could change his mind.  Especially since the younger version of Voldemort had used the conduit to reveal his involvement in reopening the Chamber of Secrets.

Now, he was more cautious.    The words you’d uttered about his old wand no longer working for him because he’d changed, echoed in his mind, but the desire to curl his hand around the hilt of his first wand was too tempting.  It was one of the strongest, most undeniable bits of proof that there was a place in Wizarding Britain for him.

Harry stood and stared at the wand resting on the table.  He couldn’t help feeling like this was another one of his grandfather’s tests – the placement of the two items, the wand and the letter, seemed too convenient to be coincidental.  The longer he stared at the pair of objects on the table, the more convinced he became that Ra’s had set this up.

His magic decided for him.  With a shove, the phoenix feather wand rolled off the envelope, and with his newer wand in his hand, Harry floated the letter over to him.  Acting on impulse, he flicked his wand, and the top of the envelope split, revealing a letter written on thick parchment that was just as official-looking as the envelope it arrived in.

Harry’s magic yanked the letter out of its pouch roughly, and he began to read it.  He’d only read the first sentence of the letter when the letter was torn from his grasp and flew into Jackson’s hand.  The assassin stood behind Harry’s grandfather and tantalisingly waved the letter.

Outraged, Harry’s magic spiked.  Memories of Dudley taking things from Harry (even if his cousin didn’t really want them) and knocking Harry down to the ground resurfaced in Harry’s mind.

“Give it back.  It’s mine.”  Harry demanded lowly.

“Come and get it.”  Jackson taunted.

A short glance over to Ra’s informed Harry that he wouldn’t receive any help from the older man and Harry’s rage grew as he realised that he’d uttered the same words to his grandfather that he’d said to the Dursleys when Dudley had torn the first copy of his Hogwarts letter out of his hands before he’d even had a chance to read it.

“Just once, I wish you behaved like a normal grandfather!”  Harry’s old wand lifted itself from the table and raced into his empty left hand.  Jackson tensed as Harry levelled both wands at him.  The disarming jinx was on Harry’s lips, and he had no problems admitting to himself that he was a little curious how strong the spell would be.  Jackson brandished the letter in the air again.

Several things became clear to Harry in those successive moments.  One: Jackson had told Ra’s about their conversation when Harry was spying on you and his grandfather.  Two: Jackson waving the letter was exactly the same as a bull fighter waving a red flag in front of a bull in an arena, and three: there was more than one ninja staying at your home.

Acting on impulse, Harry pivoted on his heel.  As he spun around, he realised his hunch was correct and there was a ninja creeping up behind him.  His magic lashed out, one Flipendo jinx leaving the tip of the holly wand while a steady stream of magic poured from the tip of the cedar wand.  The torrent of magic formed a lasso and wrapped itself around the assassin’s waist.  Seconds later, the jinx hit, and the assassin’s body went slack.  Harry had half a second to marvel at the power he’d put into the knockback spell. He waved his cedar wand in a wide arc, sending the unconscious assassin crashing into Jackson.  The two assassins collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor.

Cancelling the lasso spell, Harry doubled over, panting.   Now he was keenly aware of what you’d meant when you said that double casting would drain his magical core faster than normal.  He couldn’t bring himself to regret what he’d done, though, and with an exaggerated movement, he commanded his magic to return the letter to him.

Harry straightened up defiantly as his grandfather approached, “You’re still holding onto the familiar.”

The hand holding onto the phoenix feather wand and the letter spasmed.

“Not all that’s familiar is bad.”

“Familiarity leaves you vulnerable.  You are capable of more powerful spells than the ones you demonstrated against Jackson.”

“I was minding my surroundings,” Harry bit out.  “Destroying (Name)’s home when she’s done so much for me didn’t sit right with me.  Where is she?  I’m sure she’d love to know what you just tried to pull.”

Jackson groaned as he tried to detangle himself from the ninja who’d collided with him.  Harry didn’t bother looking at the fallen right hand.

“There will always be a degree of familiarity in your surroundings when you fight.  What if your wizarding-raised or Muggleborn friends find themselves under attack?  Will you stick to simple, ineffective spells when your opponents are hurling more lethal spells at the ones you claim to love?”

Harry clamped his jaw shut, hating himself for being able to see the logic in Ra’s words.  “And the rules that govern your society were made to benefit those who benefit from the familiar.  Even your prisons aren’t impenetrable.  Sooner or later, the purebloods will reestablish themselves as the ruling class and Voldemort will become a martyr and a rallying cause.”

“You’ve made your point,” Harry conceded grumpily.  “I don’t have it in me to complete any more of your tests, and I’d rather read my letter anyway.  So with your permission, grandfather, can I do that?”

Distaste at his grandson’s tone covered Ra’s face.  Why couldn’t Harry see that he was doing this for the three of you?  With you persuading the Dursleys to transfer the guardianship of Harry over to you permanently, you would all be free to leave Wizarding Britain as soon as Dumbledore and the Ministry fell.  Wizarding Britain trailed other magical societies around the world in terms of governance, advancement in society, and integration with their non-magical neighbours.  That was due, in no small part, to Albus Dumbledore.  Before and after his return to Magical Britain, Ra’s had never heard of the leader of a magical school having a seat in the government because their responsibilities at school kept them far too busy.

“Then again,” Ra’s mused to himself, “Because he overcommitted himself, wanting to cling to the power that he’d enjoyed for decades, which he used to mold the Hogwarts curriculum to his liking, that he was blind to the possibility of someone else having a hand in raising Harry.  By the time he attempted to reassert control, Harry had experienced what having a magical guardian was really like and knew that he had other family members aside from the Dursleys.    Dumbledore’s threat about Harry returning to the Dursleys if (Name) proved herself to be an unfit guardian is nothing more than a childish ultimatum.   Instead of them being the tools to reshape Harry into the soldier that Dumbledore hoped he’d become, their willingness to sign away guardianship to (Name) will accelerate the cracks in his public persona.  It will call into question why Harry wasn’t placed with his godfather immediately.”

The thought of his grandson’s godfather caused Ra’s thoughts to come to a screeching halt.  Here he was gloating about Dumbledore overlooking the Dursleys, and that leading to his public demise when he had very nearly done the same thing by forgetting to consider Sirius.  Sirius had a legitimate claim to his grandson, and if the Dursleys dragged out the signing, Sirius could swoop in (with Dumbledore’s blessing) and Harry would go to live with Sirius whether he wanted to or not.  Ra’s wasn’t a man who trusted his fate to invisible deities, but now he found himself hoping that you were nearly finished with the Dursleys.

“That’s the longest piece of waffle that I’ve ever read.  It barely says anything interesting, and I did the History of Magic readings for three years.  Why couldn’t they save me the time and effort of reading that and just write that I’m being called into questioning to talk about what happened to Umbridge in Courtroom Ten?”

“Talk about another example of the stupidity rife in Wizarding Britain,”  Jackson grunted, finally managing to untangle himself from the other ninja and stand up.

“What am I missing now?" Harry sighed.

Jackson’s smile was all teeth. “By summoning you to give evidence about Umbridge in front of the entire Wizengamot, Wizarding Britain has effectively declared you an adult.”

“They’ve what?”

An idea sparked in Ra’s mind.  Perhaps instead of keeping Harry away from Sirius, he should encourage the Azkaban escapee to be present for this hearing.  Jackson could infiltrate the Ministry to access the records to determine whether he was cleared by the Wizengamot to take care of his godson (and wouldn’t that twist Dumbledore’s beard?).   The convict had demonstrated some degree of ambition (though it had taken twelve years for him to act), and a godparent bond couldn’t be warped or broken, so no spell, even the Imperius, could force Sirius to act in a way that would harm Harry.

Besides, the former Gryffindor was raised in a pureblooded family, which came with influence, knowledge, and power, and if the whispers Ra’s had heard were true (many of them could be traced back to his daughter), Sirius Black hated the purebloods of Magical Britain.