Reading Time: 107 Minutes

Title: Saving Mirdam Magic
Author: Ciona West
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Time Travel
Relationship(s): Gen, background pairings
Content Rating: PG
Warnings: Major Character Death, Violence-Against Children
Author Note: Major Character Death is not permanent for main characters, and the Violence-Against Children refers to off screen abuse of Harry Potter consistent with canon. References to off-screen rape by potion-induced marriage. Character bashing – Dumbledore, some Weasleys.
Beta: MS Word
Alpha: Daisy May
Word Count: 51,961
Summary: Neville had believed in the gods in the absence of evidence, and then died and discovered just how real they were – and how angry. Now he, Harry, and Hermione have a chance to go back in time with a long list of things to fix – and knowledge of the consequences if they fail.
Artist: Lalaith

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Chapter 1

Neville was not particularly surprised to be dead. It happened to everyone eventually, and while he’d had a sort of decent life, it wasn’t something he felt he needed to cling to.

He was a bit surprised that Harry and Hermione were the ones meeting him. He was also – he admitted only to himself – rather disappointed. As fond as he was of them both, he couldn’t help wishing he could finally meet his parents.

“Neville!” Harry called, standing up from a table upon which Hermione was scribbling amidst an ocean of parchment and striding over to greet him with a brief hug. “I’m so glad to see you!” He paused and started again. “Well, not glad glad exactly – I didn’t mean – er …”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Neville reassured him with a smile, still pleased to be one of the few people Harry hugged, however briefly. “I know what you meant.” He looked around. Everything was mostly grey nothingness. There was a crowd of people who appeared to be yelling at each other not far away, but he couldn’t actually hear them so it was hard to be sure. The only visible furniture was Hermione’s table with chairs that looked a lot like the ones she had favored in the Hogwarts library. It was currently occupied both by Hermione – who raised her eyes to smile and nod at him before resuming her scribbling – and someone else that Neville found himself less able to describe the longer he looked.

“Oh, that’s Chronos,” Harry explained. “They’re still working on being visible and corporeal.”

Neville blinked. That might explain the way they were morphing while fading in and out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well.”

Chronos’ voice seemed to come from inside Neville rather than from where it was sitting, but Harry didn’t seem bothered by that. The strangest things happened to Harry.

“Now that you’re here, we’re just waiting for them to finish up,” Harry added, gesturing Neville to a chair and taking a seat himself.

“Where is here, and finish up what?”

“You are in between, and the other gods are deciding what to do about the destruction of the Fates’ plan and the impending death of Magic,” Chronos told him. “My help will be needed to send you back in time.”

“When are we going back to?” Neville asked.

Chronos flickered out and in. “They will not be able to agree and will eventually decide to leave the choice up to you.”

“Oh.” Neville’s mind started to race and he look at Harry, who shrugged.

“Hermione’s making lists,” Harry told him. “And plans. I figured we’d wait and review her options and decide from there.”

“Could we –” Neville hesitated. “Do you think –?”

“You will not be able to prevent the attack on your parents, just as Hadrian cannot save his.” Chronos’ voice was blandly matter of fact. “He could return shortly after their deaths, although his age may limit his options at that point.”

“That’s why Hermione is making lists.” Harry pushed his chair back to stretch his legs in front of him, slumping down slightly into the seat.

“You might want to fill him in while I’m finishing up and we’re all waiting,” Hermione suggested, offering Neville a quick smile before returning her gaze to her parchment.

Harry made a face. “Sorry, Nev. I’ve been trying not to think about it.” Hermione huffed in response, but kept writing without comment.

“The death of Magic?” Neville asked. “It would certainly be very bad, but if they think you can fix it –”

“First of all, we may be able to fix it. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have an important part to play. Secondly, what I’m trying not to think of is the long list of assholes I trusted who betrayed me.”

“Ah. You mean Ginny, Ron, and –”

“Molly, Dumbledore, Tonks and Shacklebolt, the Ministry, a large part of the Wizengamot, the Daily Prophet, Gringotts, and –”

“Gringotts?” Neville asked in surprise.

“Bribes to empty my vaults, hide my inheritance, and ignore my parents’ wills.”

Neville winced. “You mean you didn’t know about –”

“My title, my heritage, my property, or any vault other than my trust fund for school? No, I did not.” Harry’s voice was oddly precise, speaking to the level of control he was exerting over his emotions. “It worked out well for Dumbledore and the Weasleys. Even the Dursleys. Me – not so much.”

“The dwarves did not know of the treachery of one of their number, and executed him as soon as they found out,” Chronos informed them calmly.

“Dwarves?” Neville asked.

“Apparently ‘Goblin’ is an offensive term.” Harry’s mouth twisted slightly. “Something else no one ever shared with me.”

“Or me, although I’m not sure if that helps,” Neville offered.

Hermione raised her eyes to frown across the table. “We didn’t learn a third of what we should have at Hogwarts,” she announced furiously. “I’m not sure we learned a quarter! Dumbledore has been killing off essential classes since he started there! He got to study Alchemy, but apparently no one else is allowed to! I don’t know what idiots on the Board of Governors thought putting a sociopath in charge of our education would be a good thing, but I am so going to give them a piece of my mind!”

“Headmaster Dumbledore,” Harry corrected lightly.

Hermione glared at him. “If we’re going back in time, I am going to find a way to fix this, and I won’t stop until Hogwarts offers every magical child in Britain at least a solid, basic education,” she declared. “Watch me!”

Harry raised both hands as though conceding the argument, and smiled at her. Hermione huffed and went back to her lists, and Harry turned back to Neville.

“You knew about Ginny and Ron?”

Neville shifted uncomfortably in his perfectly comfortable chair. “They’ve never been good friends to you, Harry,” he pointed out gently. “But it wasn’t obvious to many until you and Hermione died, and Ginny and Ron reacted by spending more money in a month than all of you combined had in your entire married lives. Ron moved in with Lavender before Hermione was even buried, and Ginny immediately hired Michael Corner as the Potter Steward. Live-in Steward.” He sighed softly. “Molly got her share as well, and spent a lot of time being condescending to people unworthy of her new status as grandmother to the next Lord Potter. The whole thing was – a bit much.”

“My kids –” Harry whispered.

“Harry – I don’t know how to tell you this,” Neville began, speaking slowly and carefully. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Not all of Ginny’s children were able to access the Potter vaults.”

Harry raised a hand to stop him from continuing.

“Don’t tell me,” he bit out. There was a long silence. “If we change things, they won’t even be born, and I just can’t –” Harry’s voice broke, and Neville accepted the silence.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed until they were suddenly surrounded. His eyes fell on a woman who was morphing rapidly between various ages and appearances, and Neville raised his hand instinctively to rub at his forehead while closing his eyes to the view. He felt like he ought to have a headache coming on.

She came all the way up to the table silently, and then spoke. “Oh, right. Mortals.” He opened his eyes again, and her form had stabilized as a young woman with long dark hair that glowed around delicate features. Precisely formed pink lips moved as she spoke to Harry. “You needn’t worry about the souls that went into children who won’t be born as a result of the reset. We’ll find another use for them.” Neville wasn’t sure he wanted to think about this, but at least she wasn’t speaking in his head.

She turned fathomless dark eyes to him. “Some of us have more experience with these forms than others,” she explained.

“You can hear our thoughts,” Neville blurted out, feeling his face redden. “I mean – um – I apologize for –”

The goddess laughed out loud, a throaty chuckle that should have eased him, but – Oh, Merlin! A goddess!

She stepped closer and traced one side of his face with a single finger, a delicate touch entirely at odds with the palpable waves of power surrounding her. Neville held perfectly still.

“Dear Neville,” she murmured fondly. “I created you. Such a lovely soul – kind and gentle, but with the fierce heart of warrior when roused. Do you imagine you could ever have so much as a thought that would be hidden from me?” she crooned, and actually patted him on the head. “Such an adorable child.”

“Oh, do give over, Clotho,” another goddess told her, overflowing as she settled into a chair that simply appeared as she sat. “All of us have things to do, and regardless of Chronos’ indulgence I don’t see why we should have to delay them so that you can amuse yourself playing with the young man.” She shot him a single glance that saw everything and turned back to the dark-haired goddess who was now pouting. “We all know he has done nothing to merit it.”

“I believe some introductions are in order,” she continued. “I am Gaia, and you’ve met Clotho already. Fate’s other aspects are Lachesis – who will take the lead for the Fates in our discussions –” a pointed look had Clotho shifting to a matron who was suddenly seated at Gaia’s level, “and Atropos.

“Death is joining us as well – do stop hovering and sit down, dear – along with Magic, of course. War wasn’t happy with being overruled, so he’s off sulking but I think we can manage without him. There may be some others joining us later, but I think we have enough to go on with.”

“I told them about the impending death of Magic, the ruin of the Fates’ plans, and the decision to let them choose when to return,” Chronos said calmly. Gaia nodded briskly.

“An excellent start. Do any of you have any questions?”

Did Hermione have questions? Hermione had questions. Apparently being dead had given her access to an unlimited source of parchment.

Neville kept up fairly well in the discussion of the parameters they would work within and their objectives, although he got a little lost when she started in on “regressive causality” and something to do with “the impact of temporal-spatial imprints on future probabilities” that he never seemed to grasp. Harry was either following more than Neville was, or Harry was simply more adept at looking like he understood a Hermione determined to wrest every drop of knowledge from any available source.

Gaia answered a good number of questions herself, with Lachesis taking the lead when Hermione started to drill deeply into possible scenarios. Fate even shared an image of her loom at one point, which should have had more of an impact on Neville than it actually did. He was once again reminded that the strangest things happened to Harry.

“As interesting as this discussion has been,” Lachesis told Hermione, “I think I should point out that you have some additional resources – or at least potential resources – available to you that you may not have considered.”

“Such as?” Hermione lifted a brow in inquiry, still grasping her quill and surrounded by parchment, apparently unaffected by the fact that they were discussing how to rearrange their fates with a group of gods.

“Among the three of you, you hold the lordships of all four founders.” Hermione’s eyes widened and she reached automatically for more parchment that appeared out of nothing as she grasped it and moved it into position to take more notes. “Furthermore, you have additional opportunities afforded by your other magical legacies.”

“Which are?” Hermione asked, still looking at Lachesis even as she continued to scribble notes.

“Emrys, Lefay, and the legacies of some of the Knights, including Pendragon. Among others.” Hermione’s mouth dropped open and she actually stopped writing.

“Who?” Harry demanded grimly. Gaia answered him with sympathy utterly lacking in Fate if Lachesis’ expression was any indication.

“Hermione can take up the headship of Lefay. Neville, you may claim the legacy of Emrys, and are also descended from Sir Gawain, the source of your claim to the throne in the absence of a direct heir of Pendragon.” Neville wanted to protest but speech was beyond him. “Hadrian, you are the heir to Pendragon through your mother, as well as a descendant of Sir Lancelot through your father.”

“Oh, hell no!” Harry erupted.

“They knew,” Hermione whispered. “They knew, and they kept it from you.”

Harry immediately stopped glaring at Gaia and focused on Hermione. “Who?”

“The Weasleys – at least Molly. Dumbledore. Probably both.”

“How could you know that?” Harry demanded. “What –”

“Ginny’s name is ‘Ginevra’ rather than anything else.” Hermione explained quickly. “It’s used instead of Guinevere in Italian.”

“She’s not wrong,” Gaia confirmed.

“Oh, for the love of –” Harry shot to his feet and launched a stream of profanity that left Neville impressed by its breadth and color. Hermione watched in silent sympathy and didn’t say a word about Harry’s language. When Harry finally finished, he just shook his head and stomped off. The indistinct form of Death rose and trailed after him.

Hermione put her quill down and regarded first Gaia and then Lachesis firmly. “I don’t care what Arthur’s relationship to Morgana was. I am not going through all of this in order to live as Harry’s sister and watch him marry someone else. Again.”

“Don’t be silly, dear, that was centuries ago – what, about a millennium and half? – and they weren’t actually related even then,” Gaia pointed out. “Not to mention that with the way the British magicals intermarry, I’m not sure anyone would have grounds to object to a sibling relationship in much more recent ancestry. There’s a reason all this blood nonsense is helping to kill Magic off, and a reason why the three of you are uniquely well positioned to fix it.”

“Are you sure?” Neville blurted out, and the remaining gods and Hermione turned to look at him. Hermione was frowning, and Neville flushed again. “About me, I mean,” he explained quickly. “It’s just that I’m not sure I’m qualified for this, not that I won’t do my best –”

Hermione’s face softened. “Neville, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have with us. You’re unspeakably loyal in the best possible way, willing to fight even us to do what is right. You underestimate yourself, but I don’t. You are amazing.”

Gaia’s raised a hand and more figures shimmered in. He didn’t recognize all of them, but two of the women he did recognize had him rising to his feet to bow.

Helga smiled warmly. “Very nicely done. Come with us and we’ll have some cocoa – or would you prefer some warm cider?” She led him away from the table, trailing a tall, powerful man and a rather scrawny male of indeterminate age wearing an old-fashioned tunic and leggings. As she walked, a cozy tea table appeared surrounded by four squashy chairs.

“Ooh, you made the spice biscuits,” the scrawny one said happily, snatching up two in each hand and settling himself cross-legged on a cushioned chair. “Great zing in them – never found anyone else who could make them like you do.” Helga handed him a cup of cocoa and he dropped a couple cookies in his lap to take it.

“The Hogwarts elves still know how, but no one knows to ask for them,” she said, handing a cup of cider and small biscuit plate to the tall man and turned back to Neville. “Now, what can I pour for you?”

“Cider, if you please, ma’am.”

“It’s a nice batch, if I do say so myself,” Helga told him as she handed him a cup. “There’s a good selection of biscuits, but you might want to start with these,” she suggested. “Apple inside and topped with a honey butter.”

“With the clover honey from the meadow?” The scrawny one asked. A couple more biscuits disappeared into his tunic, and Helga smiled at him indulgently.

“Now, let’s get started,” Helga began. “I’m Helga Hufflepuff, and through me you’ll be eligible to inherit the Hufflepuff Duchy. Sir Gawain here,” the tall man nodded politely and Neville nodded back, “is also your ancestor, and you should expect an upgrade to the Longbottom estate when that is discovered. And then of course there is Myrddin –” the scrawny one waved a biscuit with one hand as he swallowed his cocoa. “His legacy is primarily a magical one.”

Myrddin finished swallowing. “Hullo.” His smile, though awkward, was contagious. “I haven’t had a true magical heir before, so sorry if I’m not exactly what you expected.”

Neville smiled back, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“I’ve never been a magical heir like this before, so I don’t think I’m in a position to complain,” he pointed out, and Myrddin’s smile turned into a grin.

“We’re going to be great friends,” Myrddin declared, handing Neville one of his spice biscuits. Neville nibbled at the edge politely, and then took a larger bite as his mouth filled with a light warmth that was just a little bit sassy.

“I should probably tell you a bit about myself as it’s so long ago that all the stories are wrong – or at least not-quite-right,” Myrddin continued. “There’s this weird perception that everything was easy for me and it wasn’t. Magic was forbidden, and I couldn’t use it openly as myself. It made the only real job I had – protecting Arthur – much harder. With so much time having passed, people see us as icons rather than people.” He stopped and stared directly into Neville’s eyes. “Yes, Arthur was my King, but he was also my friend.”

“And then you lost him,” Neville said, instantly understanding what Myrddin had suffered. Losing Harry had felt like a failure, and he suspected they weren’t as close as Arthur and Myrddin had been. The news of Harry’s death had more impact on him than Hannah understood, and that lack of understanding was a flaw in their marriage. He had wanted someone to understand.

“I’m supposed to get Arthur back one day – really back, not a brief visit from his spirit like Harry is getting – but I didn’t truly realize the role I would play while he was alive.” Myrddin shook himself and reached for another biscuit. “Not that you have to worry about that – the Fates have something else in mind for you.”

“Helping to save Magic,” Neville agreed. “Restructure the government, bring back the oaths, support Harry as King. It seems like a lot, but –”

“But also like you’re missing something? You are. All of you have a part in the general mission, but sometimes you each will have more to do. Harry will need to take care of one Dark Lord – and you will need to take care of the other.”

Neville choked on air and saw Helga check to make sure he still had cider in his cup. He picked up the cup and gulped it down, for once ignoring the manners Gran had instilled. Helga refilled the cup as soon as he returned it to the saucer.

“Dumbledore,” Neville said flatly. “You want me to take care of Dumbledore?”

Myrddin’s expression was oddly set although his eyes were sympathetic. “You think Harry should have to do that too?” he asked.

“Of course not, it’s just – Dumbledore.”

Myrddin shrugged. “Actually, he took his husband’s name, so it’s Grindelwald, but I suppose his name is neither here nor there. Except for the fact that he’s been making oaths of office using a false name to avoid actually keeping those oaths, which is really rather despicable.”

“His name isn’t Dumbledore?” Neville asked numbly, feeling like he had lost the conversational thread.

Myrddin shook his head. “He decided before he was out of his teens that he needed a way to avoid being bound by oaths while appearing to commit to them, so he added Percival and Wulfric to his middle names – not officially, of course. He’s always been more focused on appearing to be respectable rather than on actually being a good man. When he married Grindelwald, he hid the records of their marriage before betraying Gellert.”

Neville tried to adjust to this new picture of one of the most respected wizards in the world. “He started planning to be dishonorable as a teenager?” Myrddin’s nod did nothing to reassure Neville about the task he had been given. “So you’re telling me that he is not only incredibly powerful, but that he has also been planning a good deal of what he has done to take control over the wizarding world for the better part of a century.

“How can you possibly expect me to be able to take care of him?” Neville asked.

“Until Harry killed Tom,” Myrddin paused and frowned. “Actually, he did that a lot more frequently than one would expect. Most people don’t need to be killed multiple times, so it’s not really – never mind.” He shook his head, frowned, and kept going. “As Voldemort, Tom had a reputation which made most people not even try to fight him. Until someone fought him and won, most people would have said it couldn’t be done – and then Harry did it.

Myrddin’s eyes focused fiercely on Neville. “Albus Grindelwald has a reputation too, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be defeated. He doesn’t even have horcruxes, although I admit that doesn’t mean it will be easy.”

Neville calmed his breathing. “Do I have to kill him?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Myrddin told him immediately. “But I’m not sure that’s really good news from your perspective. The meddling he’s been doing is just as damaging as anything Tom managed to do, maybe more so. In order to really stop him, you’ll need to destroy his reputation. You may find that harder to do than killing him.”

“Much easier to run a sword through his gut,” Sir Gawain said. “Beheading’s also an option. You can take him down with a shield as long as you –” Helga cleared her throat. The knight colored and looked down for a moment. “Right,” he continued. “Anyway, killing is easy enough, but just killing him won’t solve the problem this time.”

Neville nodded. “He has too many followers,” he said. “Many of them just kept right on with the plans he had made even when he was dead.”

“You need people to see his true character,” Helga said firmly. “Then you may kill him – if you’re so inclined.”

Sir Gawain and Myrddin both nodded.

“Death can be a mercy not everyone deserves,” the knight murmured.

Neville swallowed hard and reached for more cider.

Chapter 2

Eventually the discussions and planning started to wind down, and finally the group rose and all the comfortable furniture and the tea service disappeared. Sir Gawain was the first to fade, after clapping Neville firmly on the shoulder and telling him that Gawain had seen the battle of Hogwarts in the first timeline and that Neville’s actions were those of a true knight. Helga hugged him, kissed his forehead despite how much shorter she was, and slipped a few final biscuits into a pocket that appeared in Neville’s robes apparently just to receive them. Then Neville was left with Myrddin.

“Listen, Neville,” he began, “There are a lot of people in the world who think they are very important and powerful who don’t actually do all that much. In my experience, the people who do the most don’t think they’ve done very much at all! Sometimes, they’re not even sure that they can. But when it’s important, when it really must be done because the alternative is unthinkable, well, they try. And they end up later wondering how it all happened because they would never have believed they could do it.

“I think that’s something we have in common.” Neville nodded slowly, caught by the sympathetic understanding in Myrddin’s dark eyes. “It was hard for me to believe in myself at first, but – oh, Neville.” Even as Myrddin spoke, he was grasping Neville’s hands earnestly. “The magic, Neville, the magic! It’s so much more than I ever imagined it could be and it was there all the time! I didn’t see it, really see it until I could believe.”

“You want me to believe in myself,” Neville responded quietly.

Myrddin nodded. “I want you to remember that I have been where you are, and the biggest things I have ever done were because I believed I had to, and so I did. It’s as simple and as difficult as that.”

As Neville returned to the central table, he thought Hermione would present her plan then spend more time than necessary explaining the reasons for it in detail. After that, he and Harry would agree with her, the remaining gods would provide any last instructions, and the three time travelers would get going.

That didn’t happen.

First, Hermione seemed oddly conflicted about her recommendation. She presented a large variety of options to Harry and Neville and only basic information about the choices, which ranged from just after Harry’s third birthday to just before Harry had killed Voldemort in the first timeline. She talked about the arithmancy, but not much more.

Then Harry latched on to the earliest option on the grounds that it would minimize Sirius’ time in Azkaban.

Hermione just nodded immediately. “All right, Harry, if that’s what you want,” and she turned to Chronos and opened her mouth as if to speak.

“Are you kidding?” Neville asked. “Because how much do you think you can do as a three-year-old? Maybe you can just take a boat over to Azkaban and get him out?”

Harry’s jaw set stubbornly. “I don’t want him there a moment longer than necessary.”

Neville did not back down. “I shouldn’t have to tell you that hurting Sirius is not one of my goals in life. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t have a better plan for this than just returning at the age of three and going to the bank for help! Even if we claim our titles, no one is going to take a bunch of three-year-olds seriously. We need to do more than rescue Sirius – we essentially need to overthrow the government. If we make the wrong choice here, I don’t know that we’ll have the chance to just try again.”

Gaia glanced at Lachesis and Chronos before speaking. “I don’t think that’s likely to be an option.”

“You don’t have enough power?” Hermione asked, obviously confused.

“Just because something is possible does not mean you should do it,” Lachesis interjected.

“I don’t understand,” Hermione admitted, setting down her quill.

Lachesis waved an image of a simple jumper into being floating above the center of the table. “After this jumper existed for a while, it got used to this shape. Maybe some of the threads got stretched or worn a bit – elbows, maybe the collar, cuffs. So now I unweave the threads to make something else.” She gestured again and the jumper started to unravel itself as she spoke. “When I start again – and you should always have a plan – I need to take the condition of the threads into account. It’s not an issue if there hasn’t been a lot of wear, but it can become one with too much. Overstretched threads can snap and break unexpectedly.”

Her aspect shifted to Atropos, the crone, and her voice changed as well. “I don’t mind cutting the threads when it’s time, but it should be consistent with the pattern. Too much wear can cause damage just as significant as the loss of Magic. Different, of course, but just as bad.”

Gaia sighed. “There are other reasons that we chose to limit our use of this power. It’s one thing to give humanity a chance to correct a mistake, but rewinding time repeatedly to get a result that we’re pleased with starts to look like a mockery of free will.

“The fact that Albus Grindelwald effectively deprived so many of their free will was one of the reasons we decided to allow you to return. We’re offering you the opportunity to save Magic – and now that your choices can be truly your own, there is no reason you shouldn’t have to live with the consequences.”

“No pressure,” Harry muttered. Atropos made a weird noise between a huff and a cackle in response before shifting back to Lachesis. Harry straightened his shoulders. “This is all the more reason to go back to the age of three. It will give us the most time to fix things.”

“I agree,” Hermione said, nodding firmly but without meeting either Neville’s or Harry’s eyes.

Neville considered and decided to be blunt. “Hermione, why do you want to go back to when we’re three?”

“I agree that it will give us the most time to fix things, and three of us going back to when we’re all three will be favorable arithmantically.” She was still avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sure that’s true,” Neville said agreeably but with an undertone of steel in his voice. “What’s the real reason?”

Hermione drew a deep breath. “Don’t you think that the possibilities this offers would –”

“No,” Neville cut her off. “And neither do you. You’re perfectly well aware that this would be a hard choice, so why are you okay with it?”

“It’s my fault,” Harry volunteered. “She’s trying to support me in getting Sirius out of Azkaban as early as possible.” He regarded Hermione fondly. “You don’t have to do it, though, if it’s not what you think is best. Your honest opinion has kept me out of a lot of trouble, and I don’t see any reason to stop listening to it now!” Watching the rapidly changing expressions on Hermione’s face, Neville reached what in retrospect should have been the obvious conclusion.

“You’re trying to get Harry away from the Dursleys,” Neville blurted out. “It’s not Sirius, it’s Harry.”

Hermione bit her lip. “Harry, it’s not that I don’t want to save Sirius as soon as possible –”

Harry waved that away. “It’s fine, Hermione, but you don’t have to worry about me. Unlike Sirius, I’ll be keeping my memories. I’m not happy about what happened, but it’s kind of settled now. It won’t matter to me that way as I’ll arrive whenever we agree and start from there.”

Neville seized the opportunity. “Harry’s right, he’ll only form new memories or experience again during the period between when arrive back in time and when we get him away from the Dursleys. That means the most effective plan for minimizing the impact on Harry is the one that makes that period as short as possible.” Neville cast an apologetic look at Harry, who shrugged wryly in response.

“I’m still focused on Sirius,” Harry admitted.

“Harry, anything we do before the age of thirteen will probably be an improvement,” Neville pointed out, then turned to Hermione. “Hermione, do you have another recommendation? We need to be old enough to be quickly effective and to get around a bit without too much supervision.”

“A few,” she admitted, casting a worried glance at Harry who responded with a shrug and a half-smile. “The arithmancy gives us some options. Seven and nine could work – three of us at nine would be three three’s which has a certain power. The age of twelve also produces a three and it’s before Sirius escapes.”

Neville’s brain went in a different direction. “When did Arcturus Black die?”

Lachesis was the one who answered him. “Arcturus died on April 12, 1991 at 4:07:22 as a result of an undiscovered poisoning.”

Harry frowned. “Who poisoned him?”

“Lucius Malfoy had a house-elf sprinkle a contact poison on a favorite chair. The house-elf didn’t realize what it was, of course, even after the damage was done.”

“But why?”

“To clear the way for Draco to become Lord Black,” Lachesis answered coolly. “Lucius didn’t know that Sirius and you were both ahead of him in the succession. He was quite disappointed when he had Draco tested on his eleventh birthday and nothing came of it.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I’m getting a little tired of being repeatedly reminded that the wizarding world is seriously fucked up.”

“Then let’s get this sorted out so we can unfuck it,” Neville said firmly. “I think Arcturus could be an asset in getting Sirius out if we handle it right.”

“What are the options before we turn eleven?” Harry asked.

“I’m not a fan of seven or nine,” Neville declared.

Hermione frowned. “What’s wrong with seven? It tends toward the analytical, which could be very helpful.”

“If we were going back to learn things,” Neville agreed. “We’re not. And as for nine – do you really think Harry needs more encouragement to sacrifice himself? Why don’t you take a look at eight and ten.”

They waited patiently while Hermione confirmed calculations and finally stopped scribbling.

“Either could work, albeit for different reasons,” she admitted.

“Harry?” Neville asked quickly, not leaving Hermione room to start a longer explanation.

“If those are my options, I want to go with eight.”

“Any objections?” Neville asked.

Hermione said, “I’m fine with that,” and that settled the discussion of the time to which they would return.

If Neville thought that making this key decision would simplify the remaining tasks before Chronos returned them to the time they had chosen, he was only partially correct. While it did help them finalize a plan, that plan still had a lot of moving parts and contingencies in case things did not go exactly as expected.

Then after they got the plan down – and the contingencies – and all three time travelers had repeated them until everyone was satisfied that they would not be forgotten, Lachesis insisted on giving them etiquette lessons and teaching them a language they referred to as Aulëan.

The etiquette lessons were actually worse than just learning the language, which the gods decided to simply give them. It was the strangest sensation – the knowledge of Aulëan simply bloomed in Neville’s mind as if its presence were as natural as English.

However the gods made it quite clear that being able to speak a language was not sufficient; they needed enough cultural background to present themselves with courtesy and determine what to say. This also included a lot of bowing practice on his and Harry’s part and learning to curtsey on Hermione’s. Neville didn’t understand why this information was not simply implanted as Aulëan was, but wisely decided not to argue.

Eventually the remaining gods were satisfied, and Neville caught a final glimpse of Chronos holding an hourglass before everything disappeared.

* * *

Neville woke and did a quick variant of a wandless tempus to confirm that he had arrived in his previous self on schedule. It was just after midnight on the first of August, and all three of the time travelers were officially eight years old. He sent a messenger Patronus to Harry, then settled down to wait. If all of them could cast that spell safely without a wand, it would confirm that they came back with not only spell knowledge but also mature magical cores. He sent to Harry, who sent to Hermione, who would not send back to either of them until she either failed or succeeded in getting to Gringotts.

He decided to risk one of Hermione’s bluebell flames and looked around, and then down.

He was wearing pajamas.

“Oh, bother,” he muttered, and then Mokey popped in.

“Master Neville should be sleeping,” she scolded, raising a hand.

“Hold,” he ordered sharply and Mokey froze. “In the name of Magic, you are absolutely forbidden to put me to sleep for the remainder of this night or to tell anyone that I woke up or left the house.” Mokey’s eyes widened.

“Master Neville has been touched by Mirdam Magic!” Mokey murmured in awe.

“I am acting on Magic’s behalf and you are not to do anything to hinder me,” he stated firmly.

Mokey shook her head vigorously. “Never would Mokey oppose the will of the Mirdam! Mokey wishes only to help!”

“Good,” Neville said firmly, then tilted his head slightly. “What does ‘Mirdam’ mean?”

Mokey mirrored Neville’s head tilt. “Mirdam is –” she paused. “Mokey is not good for this,” she decided and immediately popped out.

“What the –” Neville muttered, then Mokey popped in with Ulmey firmly in her grasp.

“Master Neville needs Ulmey’s help,” Mokey announced, releasing Ulmey with a slight push in Neville’s direction.

Neville took a deep breath. He hadn’t heard from Hermione yet, so he wasn’t in so much of a hurry that he had to upset the house-elves who were trying to help him.

“It’s nice to see you, Ulmey,” he began politely. “Mokey made a reference to ‘Mirdam’ Magic, and I wasn’t sure what Mirdam meant. Is there anything you can tell me?”

Ulmey nodded enthusiastically. “You are touched by the Mirdam!” she announced, looking at Mokey who nodded happily.

“Yes, I heard that,” Neville agreed. “I don’t understand what it means. Is it another word for Magic?”

“Oh no,” Ulmey said instantly, then frowned and tugged an ear. “Maybe yes? Magic is special, yes?”

“I think so,” Neville said patiently.

“Fates are Lady Fates, yes? War is Lord,” Ulmey told him. “Magic not be a he-god or a she-god, so not Lord Magic or Lady Magic. Mirdam Magic.”

“Oh. So ‘Mirdam’ is an honorific?”

Ulmey nodded vigorously in agreement.

“So that’s what I should use for Chronos and Death,” Neville concluded.

“No, Master Neville,” Ulmey told him, shaking her head now. “Death just Death, nothing else. Chronos mostly just Chronos now. Was a little bit Master Chronos a long time ago, but never Mirdam.” Ulmey switched to tugging her other ear. “Mirdam is only for Magic. Magic is everything and not. Magic is special.”

Neville wasn’t sure he understood the reasons for these distinctions, but he wasn’t going to object to any honorific a god might prefer. Nor did he want to argue about it with the house-elves.

“Ulmey, thank you very much for sharing your knowledge with me,” he told her solemnly. “I am pleased that you were so well-informed, and appreciate it very much.” Ulmey blushed and beamed at him before popping away.

“Mokey, I also appreciate your having brought exactly the right elf to me at just the right time,” he began, only to be interrupted with Hermione’s Patronus passing along apparition coordinates.

He looked down at his pajamas. “Now, if you don’t mind,” he continued, “you can help me again by finding me some clothes suitable for a visit to Gringotts.”

The apparition coordinates landed him in an arrival room bustling with activity. Hermione appeared to be giving firm directions to a powerfully built man who was not too much taller than her eight-year-old self. A much frailer Harry was stubbornly shaking his head as a dwarf in healer robes argued with him. Neville knew his friend had been mistreated, but he hadn’t expected the damage to already be so obvious. He tried to rush over to Harry’s side but was forced to slow down to adjust to his eight-year-old legs.

“I’ve already told you I will not accept any healing at this time.” Harry was no less forceful despite his obvious injuries. “There are reasons for that decision that I have no intention of having to repeat to you and everyone else we encounter until we meet the Chieftain. If he wants to know, I’ll be happy to tell him and let him decide whether or not you need to know.”

“You are clearly far too young to make such a decision, and under the circumstances I will be taking over your care.” She started to pull something out of a dimensional store when Neville threw a shield around himself and Harry and stepped forward to block the healer from Harry.

“What is going on here?” Everyone stopped to look at what was obviously the head of a group of guards who had stopped part way through the door.

The healer decided to assert herself.

“This child doesn’t want to take his medicine,” she announced scornfully. “And this other one decided to use magic to interfere! Move the second boy out of the way so I can dose my patient properly and be done with this nonsense.” Neville touched Harry gently and his friend stilled.

Neville took over the conversation.

“Hadrian is not a child, although I am truly shocked to find a healer who thinks violating the bodily autonomy of a sentient being of any age is a professional right.” The healer reared back, obviously affronted, and opened her mouth to reply when Neville simply cut her off. “While your obvious failings should certainly be addressed, we have more important issues to deal with.” He conspicuously turned his back on her, even as he strengthened his shield and then turned his attention to the new arrival. “Well?”

The head guard studied him professionally. “Did you draw your wand in the bank without permission?” he asked coolly.

Neville barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes, although he could tell that the impulse had not escaped attention. “I don’t even have a wand, although I do have some skill in wandless magic.”

There was a moment of silence, broken finally by a single word – “Indeed” – from the head guard just before he pivoted and gestured them to follow.

The guards formed up around them, but the movement speed was something the threesome could keep up with. Hermione was looking at Harry and Neville with a large dose of concern and small touch of irritation. She reached out and took Harry’s hand, and Neville could see Harry gently squeeze her hand when she did.

“It’s all right, really,” Harry reassured her quietly. “I knew what this would be like when we made the plan.”

“I know, it’s just –” Hermione bit her lip and fell silent.

They followed along with the guards through several more turns and a number of hallways, some of which Neville was illogically certain had transported them elsewhere despite the apparently identical appearance of the hallways and the lack of any of the sensations he associated with magical transportation. Eventually, they ended up at an archway flanked by more guards.

Before they went in, Harry whispered, “You better drop it now,” and Neville met his eyes, saw Harry nod again just slightly, and dropped the shield.

“Your visitors,” was the head guard’s laconic introduction and then they were in front of the Chieftain.

Chapter 3

The Chieftain of the Horde was a handsome dwarf with long dark hair only slightly restrained by a faintly glowing circlet and a lush, full beard. While Neville recognized that the Chieftain sat upon a throne, it was not anything the headmaster would ever have considered worthy of the name as it was an exquisite representation of craftsmanship rather than merely plastered in gold and jewels. As they approached, Harry and Neville bowed and Hermione curtsied – all three gestures just as they had repeatedly practiced in between until the gods declared themselves satisfied. Neville noted the very slight signs that the Chieftain’s attention was now fully engaged.

“You honor us with your time and attention, Chieftain,” Harry said in careful Aulëan. “I would demonstrate my respect by sharing the topics I propose to discuss.” The Chieftain nodded slowly but firmly, and Neville concluded that Harry was performing as well as he typically did under pressure. “These topics include the threat to the survival of Magic and our proposed plan of action to save it, the resources available to this effort, and the reformation of the wixen government in Britain. Related topics include the destruction of the Dark Lords Voldemort and Dumbledore and reformation of magical education. I would be happy to clarify any of these if you wish.”

The Chieftain studied Harry for a long moment and Harry met the older man’s eyes without flinching. The dwarf nodded once, then raised and lowered his staff sharply three times in succession.

“I am known as Voktar Mountainshield,” he said at last and in English. “All of you bear the marks of gods, each more than I have ever seen on a single person before. I have summoned the full council to attend our discussion.” A gesture from the Chieftain also produced chairs for the threesome, and each introduced themselves briefly in Aulëan before taking the provided seats. Hermione added a very polite request for parchment and quill which was immediately granted. She started reproducing her lists as soon as she had the means.

It was only a matter of minutes until the council appeared, another half a dozen dwarves, as well as a seventh dwarf who did not take a seat but stood slightly to the right and behind the Chieftain. From their resemblance, Neville assumed he was the heir. The Chieftain nodded for Harry to begin.

“In my first iteration of this life, I lacked the information I needed to properly dispose of the horcruxes made by Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort. By the time the last of the three of us died, the Fates could no longer see a path to prevent the death of Magic.

“Before our return to this time, we were provided with instructions and assistance to improve the probability of a different outcome. Among the three of us, we are the heirs to Arthur, Merlin, and Morgana in addition to all four founders of Hogwarts. Those roles will provide important leverage in fixing what is wrong with the governance of both magical Britain and the current educational system. We seek your support of our endeavor.”

Judging by their expressions, the reaction of most council members ranged from obvious interest to guarded neutrality, but the middle dwarf on the right regarded Harry with disdain from the start.

“Another human wizard come to drag us into one of their foolish wars,” he sneered, not giving the Chieftain a chance to speak or waiting for the Chieftain’s acknowledgment to do so. “Help one of them and we’ll find ourselves punished with an even more restrictive treaty at the first opportunity. He’s wasting our time.”

Harry’s glance of dismissal at the speaker before addressing himself to the Chieftain was a thing of beauty. Harry reverted to Aulëan in responding, causing more than one council member to visibly startle. “It has never been my intention to treat the dwarves with anything less than the respect they are due as fellow magical beings blessed with the gifts of Magic. It would be foolish to do so when the gods have already identified you as an appropriate Regent during my minority.

The Chieftain’s eyes widened, and Neville saw the dwarf he thought was his heir reach out to his father before aborting the gesture and pulling his hand back as Harry continued to speak. “If there is anything in my words or deportment today which has caused offense, I humbly apologize.”

Silence fell.

The Chieftain stirred. “Our augurs for generations have spoken of the three human children who would greet the leader in the language of kings and provide a path to freedom. I intend to do everything in my power to see them succeed for the ultimate benefit of our people. Who would gainsay me in this?” Neville interpreted the nods and table thumping as almost entirely supportive.

The one exception was the dwarf who had complained about being dragged into a war and was now looking increasingly nervous. “I object,” he blurted out. Most of the other members of the council looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

The Chieftain remained composed. “Please state the reason for your objection, Ironpyrite,” Voktar requested calmly. Neville could see visible beads of sweat starting to appear on Ironpyrite’s face.

“It’s – it’s – it would be disruptive,” he managed at last in a strangled voice. The dwarf on Ironpyrite’s left cast a suspicious look at him and pushed his chair further away. The Chieftain adjusted the grip on his staff and thrust it down once hard on the stone floor, holding it there as the impact echoed through the chamber and a wave of golden light spread out.

“Ironpyrite, the council requires your full and complete explanation of your objection.” The Chieftain’s voice contained the echo of power. Ironpyrite’s face tightened and lost color.

“I, I,” Ironpyrite stuttered and gasped, then blurted out, “I like the human drink Mountain Dew,” before slumping over on the table. The dwarf who stood behind the Chieftain walked over and confirmed his death. The wave of golden light remained.

“Ironpyrite clearly used the deliberate breaking of a personal vow to escape the justice of the Horde,” the Chieftain declared. “Before we examine the scope of his betrayal, I call for the fullest possible oath of integrity from all who would remain on the council.” He rose to his feet. “I will go first.”

“I, Voktar Mountainshield of the Longbeard clan, swear the following on my life, my magic, and the honor of my family name. I have served and vow to serve as Chieftain of the Horde with honor, always considering and acting the best interests of all dwarves, regardless of clan. I have been and will remain truthful in my reports, accepting no bribes, honoring my word, and never false in my dealings. All of this I so swear, in the names of the Mirdam and of Mahal.” The Chieftain glowed with soft light as the vow took hold, but it did not dissipate as he turned to signal the next oath.

Instead, two columns of similar light appeared in the chamber, glowing far more strongly until the figures of Mirdam Magic and Mahal solidified within. Everyone who had been seated immediately rose to bow or curtsy to the visiting gods.

“Voktar of the Longbeard clan, formerly known as Mountainshield, your life has been one of honorable service,” Mirdam Magic told him. The other dwarves in the chamber looked on the gods with wondrous awe, leaving Neville to wonder if their time in between had left them too accustomed to the presence of the divine. Harry and Hermione had risen as the others had, but they looked respectful and appreciative rather than awed.

“You have Our thanks for your ready agreement to join with those to whom we have given this great task,” the Mirdam continued. “While We would not take offense at your continued use of the name Mountainshield which was indeed well earned, We name you Justicebringer. Bear Our name with honor and Our blessing.”

The Chieftain bowed lower than Neville imagined he ever had, and only managed a murmured, “You honor me, Mirdam,” before Mahal joined the conversation with an amused smile.

“Come here, lad,” he ordered, and the Chieftain approached Mahal before dropping to one knee and bowing his head. The remaining council members moved to the front of the table to do the same when the Chieftain knelt. “Young Hadrian would benefit from your help and your teaching – one King to another, eh? We both know that Chieftain was the title your predecessors adopted here to deal more easily with the wixen of the time, but the appearance doesn’t change the reality. One day the return path will open, and I don’t mind telling you that it will open a bit sooner if Hadrian has his way. Keep that in mind as you go, yes?”

Voktar raised his head. “It shall be as you command,” he promised instantly. Mahal chucked, throaty and deep.

“Oh, I don’t command all that much anymore – free will, you know. Let’s say I make suggestions it would be beneficial to follow.” He smiled and reached out to lay a gentle hand on the Chieftain’s shoulder. “I made you, child. You are the most beloved product of my craft, and I am eternally grateful to Eru for granting you spirit and true life. Whatever I may suggest, never forget that. I will always want the best for you.” His hand dropped away, and Voktar shivered at the loss.

“In that spirit, I offer you my assistance in identifying and cleansing the corruption of which Ironpyrite was only a part.” The Chieftain nodded instantly, and Mahal gestured slightly. “I have put those among you who have been tainted by corruption into something akin to stasis, and both they and any evidence will glow red.

“They cannot be moved or affected in any way other than by your hand or that of your appointed justiciar. I have identified potential candidates for appointment as justiciars with a green glow and summoned them to wait outside the chamber. Your freely-given declaration is required to empower them.

“Finally, Brandr of the Stiffbeards,” Mahal began, looking to one of the council members on the left. “I am sorry to say that your son will be glowing red, and of his own choice rather than by any working of magic.” Brandr closed his eyes as if in pain and his head drooped. “I would have you and your fellow members of the council know that your own honor shines brightly, and his failure was not a result of any flaw in your guidance or example. I am sorry for the grief you will suffer for it is wholly undeserved.”

“My Lord, I –” Brandr managed before his voice failed.

“I know your heart,” Mahal reminded gently. Brandr swallowed and nodded.

The light of the gods brightened until the mortals all closed their eyes. When Neville opened his again, the gods were gone.

“Mahal’s shiny nuts!” one of the unnamed council members ejaculated. Voktar rose to his feet and quirked an eyebrow at him.

The council member blushed.

Voktar turned to Harry. “It seems we’ll be working together,” he said dryly. Harry failed to stop a brief huff of amusement from escaping.

“While I’m honored to be working with you, I never intended to pressure you that way – not that I would ever presume to have that sort of influence,” Harry added.

The Chieftain looked Harry over and shook his head. “Hakon, come and meet someone,” he called, and the dwarf that Neville had identified as the Chieftain’s heir hurried down. Voktar began formally and in Aulëan, although he did at least use the short form of Harry’s title rather the full version.

“Lord Pendragon, Heir to the Magical throne of the High King, may I present my son and heir, Hakon of the Longbeard clan?”

Harry chuckled. “Only if you’ll both call me Harry in private and among your trusted advisors,” he replied, also in Aulëan, offering his hand first to Voktar and then to Hakon. “I don’t think a focus on ceremonial propriety will serve the relationship I hope to have with both of you.” This prompted return offers to use given names and equivalent exchanges with Hermione and Neville before they could get down to business.

Voktar glanced at Harry with an almost impish look in his eyes before waving his staff and reforming the room with ten chairs surrounding a round table.

Harry chucked for a moment before he scrambled his eight-year-old body into one. “Okay, I can see how this is going to go,” he declared cheekily.

The Chieftain grinned back at Harry before getting down to business. “I suspect there are more details in the plan that you have yet to share with us, so I’ll let you get started.”

“Hermione?” Harry prompted, and she wandlessly generated copies of her list and distributed them around the table.

“If I go too fast on anything or if you have a question don’t hesitate to interrupt,” she said. “I’ve put the main list on the top page. If an item is colored, you can tap it twice to get more detail from a subsequent page.

“Let’s start with the horcruxes. Locations and known defenses are listed, and the only one we may not be able to access readily is the one in Grimmauld Place. Is Arcturus Black still alive?”

“He is,” Voktar confirmed, frowning. “Ironpyrite was a member of the Stonefoot clan, which has the Black family accounts. We need to audit them,” he finished, and Hakon made a note.

“Arcturus Black is being poisoned by a house-elf bound to the Malfoy family – a contact poison on one of his favorite chairs,” Harry interjected. “He was also subjected to an alchemic compulsion by Grindelwald to make him ignore the fact that his heir – Sirius Black, my oath-sworn godfather and adopted father – was imprisoned in Azkaban without a trial.

“Grindelwald?” Voktar asked, frowning. “He’s no longer in Nuremburg?”

Harry shook his head. “No, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is a fake name. When Albus Brian Dumbledore married Gellert Grindelwald he became Albus Brian Grindelwald.”

Voktar’s jaw tightened and there was a moment of silence. “We need to make sure we cannot be fooled by an oath in a false name,” he said grimly. “Regin, can you take the lead on that?” he asked and got a nod in return.

“That reminds me,” Harry said, “Gaia said you could figure out a way to update his – and our – lordship rings to include appropriate protections against alchemy.”

“Ari?” Voktar asked, looking at one of the dwarves with vividly white hair and shrewd gray eyes who nodded immediately.

“Timing is going to be critical,” Hermione stated. “The draft plan was intended to provide a month for us to prepare in the background without alerting our enemies, with the first public actions scheduled for September 1^st while a lot of targets will be distracted by the return to Hogwarts. If that doesn’t work, we’ll adjust.

“We want to buy controlling interests in the Wizarding Wireless Network and the Daily Prophet as soon as possible with the intention of binding them to an ethical code to require honest reporting. In addition to the acquisitions, we could use some help with the oaths.” Hakon nodded at Hermione and made another note as she kept talking.

“Moving on to the rituals, we’ve scheduled them in multiple stages. If you can remove Harry’s horcrux as soon as possible, you can use it to track the others and the wraith. We’re open to destroying the horcruxes separately from the wraith if you have the wraith contained in some way so we can destroy it as scheduled after the regency is established. The wraith is likely to pull on the magic of his slaves as he dies. We want the general public to see the impact of the oaths and the Ministry testing beforehand. Otherwise, people will panic, and that’s another opportunity for Grindelwald.

“We’re hoping you can create integrity testers that people can walk through when entering the bank, the Ministry, St. Mungo’s, and the school to identify whether they have been subjected to magic that alters their mind or will. No one should be able to do anything of significance while under an improper influence.” Ari nodded again and Hermione continued.

“Hogwarts is another major item on the agenda, although the timing on it is a bit longer term. We would like to fix the wards right away to record violations that Grindelwald has turned off or ignored. We’re currently planning to let him believe his control of the school is not immediately at risk when he starts losing other positions, but we will be gathering evidence both there and at the Ministry. We’d also like a thorough review of the Hogwarts accounts at a time of your choosing.

Hermione set her parchment down for a moment. “We weren’t sure what the best way would be to handle inheritance testing and removing the core bindings on Harry and Neville. We don’t want Grindelwald to find out about the titles or unbinding of their cores too early. On the other hand, they will need time to adjust to their proper power levels, and we want to make sure you have the authority to act without putting yourselves in jeopardy.

“On the last issue, we were thinking about contingent proxies you could act on before you confirm anything to us? Does that make sense?”

Before anyone could respond, a single parchment appeared in front of Voktar in a flash of light. He picked it up and read it aloud.

“By the direct order of Mirdam Magic, all dwarves are prohibited from communicating about the listed accounts, positions, or the identity of the holders in any way to anyone not present in the room at the time the order is received without the permission of the individual whose name is associated with the account or position or his or her sworn proxy:

• H.M. Hadrian “Harry” James Potter:
  • High King of the Magical Realm and owner of all associated Pendragon properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • King of Avalon and owner of all associated land, items, titles, and valuables;
  • King of Benoic and owner of all associated land, items, titles, and valuables;
  • Duke of Gryffindor and Slytherin and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Earl of Du Lac and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Earl of Peverell and Potter and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Secondary Heir to the Earldom of Blackstone; and
  • Lord/Heir/Owner of additional minor properties and titles (Viscount or below) as identified in the future.
• H.R.H. Neville Aldin Longbottom:
  • Prince, Heir Presumptive to the throne of the Magical Realm;
  • Guardian of Avalon and Keeper of the Portal;
  • Arch Druid of Magical Britain and owner of all associated land, items, titles, and valuables;
  • Duke of Carmarthen and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Duke of Hufflepuff and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Heir to the Duchy of Gryffindor;
  • Earl of Orkney and Lothian and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Heir to the Earl of Greenwood; and
  • Lord/Heir/Owner of additional minor properties and titles (Viscount or below) as identified in the future.
• H.R.H. Hermione Jane Granger:
  • Princess, Secondary Heiress Presumptive to the throne of the Magical Realm;
  • Guardian of Avalon and Keeper of the Portal;
  • High Priestess of Magical Britain and owner of all associated land, items, titles, and valuables;
  • Duchess of Avalloc and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults;
  • Duchess of Ravenclaw and owner of all associated properties, items, titles, and vaults; and
  • Lady/Heir/Owner of additional minor properties and titles (Viscount or below) as identified in the future.

For a proxy holder to permit any otherwise prohibited communication, the sworn proxy holder must hold the proxy specifically related to the account, position, or aspect of identity he or she is authorizing to be revealed.

All dwarves are reminded that compliance with this order cannot be limited or proscribed by any treaty or agreement.

[Signed Mirdam Magic] [Dated 1 August 1983 4:12 a.m. GMT]”

All around the table, dwarves fell silent. Hermione’s brow was furrowed in thought, and Harry looked dangerously irritated.

“Well,” Neville began politely, “I assume that among the three of us we might be able to afford to buy the Wizarding Wireless Network and Daily Prophet?” Voktar started to chuckle, and soon the other dwarves joined in and even Harry cracked a smile.

“Hermione,” Harry said to catch her attention. She met his eyes and appeared to respond to the question he hadn’t asked.

“I assume you’re wondering about Benoic?” she said. “Benoic is the lost kingdom to which Lancelot was the heir so apparently you’re the King if we ever find it. The rest of yours shouldn’t be surprising, although the order in which the titles were listed was interesting. I suspect there’s a definite protocol to these things that we have yet to learn.”

“You’d be right about that,” Hakon agreed. “But since the three of you outrank literally everyone else, I don’t think you have to worry about it too much at first.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not trying to pull rank on anyone.”

“Well, you do outrank everyone else – myself included – as the High King of the Magical Realm,” Voktar told him. “And my first lesson as a potential future regent is that you should never do anything to diminish the power that comes with the title. If you yourself appear to dismiss it, you open the door to others like Grindelwald doing the same at a time when you need every bit of your authority.”

“I’m really not qualified to run anything,” Harry disagreed. “Even with everything I learned in the last life, I still don’t know anywhere near enough.”

“You will,” Voktar returned firmly. “We’re going to teach you. Again, the three of you outrank everyone, and sometimes knowledge is the best armor.”

Harry pressed his lips together in resignation and changed the subject. “I need to be back at the Dursleys’ not much after five to be there when my aunt wakes me to make breakfast, so we better make good use of the time we have left.” He looked at Voktar. “Do you have enough for me to sign a proxy giving you authority over everything? Or you and Hakon?”

Voktar nodded and lifted an eyebrow at Ari, who nodded immediately. “I’ll work with Her Highness,” Ari said, pulling out parchment and changing seats with the dwarf who had been sitting next to Hermione.

With Hermione occupied, Neville stepped in. “We should also talk about when we can schedule the ritual to remove the horcrux from Harry, and then the next major topic that will require a lot of time will be reformation of the laws and the structure of the government.”

Voktar stepped in. “Bjorg, can you ready the ritual room in the time chamber, and pull a team together?” The other dwarf rose to leave and Voktar held him with a gesture. “Harry, if you’re willing to let Neville and I continue for a few more minutes without you, I’d like to get you into the ritual room for preparation as soon as possible.”

Harry left his chair, and then hesitated. “Only to remove the horcrux? I want the rest as evidence against Grindelwald.”

Voktar nodded. “You have our word.” Harry accepted this and left with Bjorg.

“Regin, I’ll ask you to lead the efforts on reforming the law. Bring in anyone you wish without violating the Mirdam’s order.”

Regin smiled. “A research project at your personal request,” she declared. “If needed, I can hint at some advance preparation for a future negotiation.”

“I understand there may be an argument that all laws passed in the Wizengamot since they discontinued the use of the required oaths are null and void,” Neville told her. “If you find it valid, there may be a lot you don’t even have to look at.”

Regin’s smile broadened to something closer to a smirk. “I like you,” she announced. “Once you’ve grown a bit, I’ll teach you to wrestle.” Neville kept his composure as she trotted out, then looked at Voktar with some concern.

Voktar was staring after her, obviously nervous, and his response was not reassuring. “I haven’t seen her that happy since she gutted the last High Advocate,” he murmured.

“That wasn’t exactly comforting,” Neville pointed out.

“I assume you don’t want me to lie to you,” Voktar retorted. He finally admitted the dwarves waiting outside who were approved as justiciars by Mahal, declared them justiciars and gave them quick instructions, then spoke briefly to a house-elf and left to join the ritual.

Chapter 4

While Hermione and Ari worked on proxy documents, Neville answered questions about items on Hermione’s list. He also requested the help of the dwarves in finding the author of those awful Harry Potter books which had Harry involved in the most ridiculous adventures. If Harry was going to take control of his public persona, publication needed to be shut down as soon as possible without wrecking their other plans; neither Harry nor the dwarves would object to recovering the profits made using Harry’s name and likeness. When Hakon finished his notes, he turned his attention to Neville.

“What about you?” Hakon asked quietly.

“Sorry?” Neville replied, confused.

“Your power is also bound,” Hakon pointed out.

Neville blinked. “Oh, yes,” he admitted immediately. “I’ve been assuming that unbinding it could wait until September 1^st or a bit after.”

“I’m not sure I understand the reason for the delay?”

Neville sighed. “It’s my grandmother. She is my guardian, and she’s definitely impaired. Grindelwald wants my power limited and he’s been working with my great-uncle, who wants to take over the title. If you remove the bindings before she’s cleansed and it’s noticed – well, she might be hurt trying to protect me.”

“I see.”

It was just after five when Harry returned looking much better, well rested and with his scar noticeably fainter considering that his appearance remained that of an emaciated child of five or six. Still, the change was enough of an improvement that Hermione gave Bjorg an approving nod after silently assessing Harry.

“Harry, I have the proxy documents for you to consider,” she said.

“Where do I sign?” Harry asked. Hakon handed him a quill and let Ari provide the instructions.

“Harry, you shouldn’t sign things you haven’t read thoroughly,” Hermione scolded as he signed. He finished up and pushed the parchment over with a smile.

“There’s no one I trust more than you,” he said firmly. “And I really do have to go.”

Voktar stepped forward. “Harry, I took the liberty of asking a house-elf, Torri, to cover for you briefly if needed so we could address one other matter,” he said. “I wanted to speak to you about the house-elves.”

“House-elves?” Harry asked, then looked to Hermione, whose face he read instantly, then Neville, who shrugged to express his confusion. “I’m not sure I understand. Gringotts has house-elves? Like the ones at Hogwarts?”

“There are house-elves who work for Gringotts. The relationship is not the same as what the elves would find in Hogwarts, but that’s not what I wanted to discuss. The Potter elves were locked down in the manor unless called for. There has been no one to call for them for many years, and I wondered –” Voktar was watching Harry and stopped when he saw Harry’s eyes widen in alarm.

“Potter elves to me!” Harry almost shouted, and a nearly skeletal elf popped into the conference room.

“Harry, belay that order,” Voktar demanded urgently. “A weak house-elf could kill itself trying to get to you through the wards.”

“Potter elves stay put!” Harry did shout this time, almost wringing his hands as he saw the state of the one who made it. “What have I done?” he whispered, then moved closer and grasped a bony hand. “I’m so sorry – how can I help?” It was paler than Harry, even more emaciated, and barely conscious.

“Master?” it breathed.

“Please don’t leave me,” Harry begged. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t know! Please – Mione, Neville – help me!” He reached out with his other hand and Hermione grasped it instantly while Neville moved to place a hand on Harry’s shoulder in support.

They still had mature cores, Neville reasoned. And in spite of the bindings, he had been able to do a fair amount of wandless magic and apparate to the bank. There had to be enough to help a house-elf. He tapped into his core and let a stream of magic flow into Harry. He could feel Hermione doing the same although she was clearly pouring her magic more quickly.

“Moderate the flow, Hermione,” Neville told her quietly. “There may be other elves in need.” The one in front of them with its hand in Harry’s was rapidly regaining color and starting to lose the skeletal look it had on arrival.

“Oh,” it murmured. “Oh!” It opened eyes of pale gold in surprise. “I almost forgot how it felt! Thank you, Master.” It sat up and looked at Harry in awe. “My name is Malia. How may I serve?”

“Are there others who need help, Malia?” Harry asked, still clutching her hand. “The Potter elves, how are they?” Her ears, which had started to perk up slightly, drooped again.

“We are fading Master,” she said quietly. “I answered your call first because I was the strongest elf left. Well, before I came here.”

“Elves can’t come through the wards?” Harry said. “Please forgive me – I swear I didn’t know.”

Voktar shook his head and knelt down to place his own hand on Malia, and Neville felt another stream joining their magic although not as clearly as he had felt Hermione’s.

“It’s not quite that straightforward,” the Chieftain said. “An elf can travel to the bank, but they need to arrive at the designated spot for house-elves. There they are received by a Gringotts elf who confirms their authority and escorts them as needed to take care of their business. A bonded elf arriving there or travelling within the bank with an escort can do so very easily.

“Unfortunately for Malia, the council chambers are much more heavily secured and her bond with you was close to non-existent.” He sighed. “Tresor?”

A very healthy house-elf dressed in black with a Gringotts insignia appeared silently in front of Voktar. “Chieftain?”

“What can you tell me?”

“Torri is behind the wards that hide the High King and appearing to be him. She estimates sixteen and a half minutes before the Dursley woman wakes and might want him to make breakfast. She is prepared to cover for him.”

“I don’t want her hurt,” Harry interjected anxiously.

Tresor regarded him tolerantly. “Torri will not be hurt,” the warrior elf assured him. Harry winced.

“Sometimes, well, my aunt gets upset –”

“She will not succeed in hitting Torri, even if Torri allows her to believe she did.”

Harry’s shoulders relaxed slightly and he turned back to Malia.

“The Dursley wards will not detect house-elves unless they wish to be detected,” Tresor continued. “The wards at Potter Manor are a different matter. Albus Grindelwald had access to them through the previous Lord Potter and made modifications while Lord Potter was still alive. He will be alerted if Harry Potter enters, if an elf dies, or if an elf disobeys an order. The last Lord Potter ordered the elves to stay in Potter Manor for their safety. If the current Lord had not called for Malia, her departure would have alerted Grindelwald.”

“The first and last alerts help him prevent Harry from connecting with his elves as long as he doesn’t know about them,” Neville said slowly. “I’m sure if he was too late to stop them meeting, he would take other steps to make sure nothing interfered with his plans. But monitoring if an elf dies – is he waiting for that to happen?”

“Elves would fight to protect the family home and property,” Tresor pointed out. “I don’t know what he might want there, but it would certainly be easier to take without the elves.”

“How many are still there?” Harry asked.

“The other thirty-five are all still alive,” Tresor told him, and Harry’s eyes widened. “Although they are in very bad shape.” Hermione sat down abruptly, although she kept hold of Harry’s hand.

“So many elves confined in a limited space without access to a bond would accelerate their decline,” Tresor continued. “The fact that they are all still alive speaks to careful management of their magic use under a strong leader.”

“Domo takes care of us,” Malia said.

“How are we going to help them?” Harry asked. “If they can get through the wards on Privet Drive, can I call them there? Do they all still have the strength to get there?”

“I’ll help if I can,” Hermione announced firmly.

“So will I,” Neville added immediately.

“Does Grindelwald have anything on the wards to show other visitors?” Voktar asked.

“No,” Tresor replied immediately. “He assumes no one who is not a Potter, aside from him, could get through the Potter wards. He could not get through them if he hadn’t been specially designated on the access list, but he won’t think about that.”

“Would the elves be able to accept me as a proxy for Potter?”

Tresor tilted his head, considering Voktar’s question, and then studied Malia and the group around her.

“Yes,” he decided. “It would not be as good as a bond with the Lord, but it would be enough to let you help them. They would accept your orders that do not go against their true master. You would need to bring the proxy with his magical signature.”

“I still want to help,” Harry objected. “Even if I only help a few a day.”

“As your proxy, I will visit Potter Manor with Tresor and Malia and come up with a plan,” Voktar told him firmly. “You will have to trust me to make the best use of available resources, including the three of you, in a balanced way to ensure the best possible outcome. That means I will find a way to not only keep every elf possible alive but also to restore them to full health, and I will do it without jeopardizing your health to do so.”

They finally got Harry to leave, mostly because Malia who was now practically glowing with energy convinced him that the elves would be fine. Neville offered Mokey’s help in coming up with and implementing a plan, and Malia disappeared with Tresor.

Voktar sighed, and looked at the empty space where Harry had been. “Is he always like this?” he asked wistfully.

Neville said “Absolutely,” at the same time Hermione said “Always,” with great emphasis. They looked at each other and started to laugh in resignation.

“He can’t seem to help it,” Neville explained.

“It truly is his one great weakness – his saving people thing,” Hermione added. “If he sees someone in need, he just can’t leave it alone. He has to do something.”

“Maybe because of all the years no one stepped in to help him,” Neville continued thoughtfully.

“Humans,” Voktar spat out, forgetting momentarily that the remaining children understood Aulëan although they didn’t seem to take offense.

“There are times when we definitely scrape the bottom as a species,” Neville agreed. “Harry is the one who gives me hope.”

“A large part of it for wixen is the combination of having magic and how they are raised,” Hermione chimed in. “Magic fixes most consequences, so they don’t ever seem to learn. And the educational system is terrible – no focus on logic or even simple reason! Problem-solving skills are practically non-existent, even for adults. If the class is too hard, don’t get help or try harder, just complain and they’ll dumb it down or eliminate it entirely. If a ‘pure-blood’ wouldn’t get the job on merit, just get rid of any requirements they don’t excel in and make blood status the test!

“And dealing with Dark Lords is always someone else’s problem – offer no help or training, blame them if it’s not handled to your satisfaction or on your schedule, then forget it ever happened as soon as it’s over. You certainly don’t need to think about why it happened or how to prevent it from happening again.”

“Okay, now you’re depressing me,” Neville told her. “What else do we need to get started today?” He looked at Voktar and Hakon, who had joined them. “Can we get a regular supply of pain potions and pepper-up to Harry? He won’t accept any actual healing yet, but there’s no reason for him to be exhausted or in pain. And I would like to know if we could set up a way to record ward violations or other issues at the Dursleys’ house like the ones planned for Hogwarts or the Ministry.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Voktar said grimly.

“Would our proxies be helpful? I don’t want or need to add to your burden of care, but I am happy to provide additional authority if it will be useful.”

“Caught that, did you? I didn’t think Harry realized.”

“He didn’t,” Neville said with certainty.

“I wouldn’t have either if Ari hadn’t explained,” Hermione sighed.

“Hermione, I know that you feel that you’ll never catch up sometimes, but try to remember that we are still officially just eight. You are already significantly advanced, and there will be plenty of time to learn before we even get to Hogwarts.” Neville looked at her sharply before she could speak. “And yes, we will reform it so the school is worthy of you by the time you arrive.”

Hermione huffed slightly and fell silent.

* * *

It took more than a week to get the house-elves back to an appropriate level of health. Voktar was able to issue more helpful orders with Harry’s proxy to ensure that the elves were able to get the magic they needed to survive, but he had still not figured out whether simply depriving Harry of their support was the only reason Grindelwald had set them up to die. Voktar had taken an afternoon to personally inspect Potter Manor, but nothing stood out as a reason for Grindelwald’s action. He planned another visit when he had more time, but time was currently in short supply.

Kenna stomped into Voktar’s office and dropped her war hammer on the floor next to his desk with a resounding clang before flopping into her favorite chair. She studied him for a moment, and Voktar carefully concealed a smile, vaguely aware that Bjorg was trailing after her.

“Husband,” she said at last.

“Wife,” he responded evenly.

Bjorg rolled his eyes and took his own seat. “For Mahal’s sake will the two of you stop flirting? It’s embarrassing to watch.”

“Nonsense,” Voktar told him with a grin that verged on a smirk. “You must be mistaken. Neither of us have said a single flirtatious word.”

“Which makes your ability to flirt even more impressive,” Bjorg retorted. “But please stop.” He removed his helmet and started to strip off his gloves. “Ask me how it went.”

“How did it go?”

“A very successful shit show.” Voktar’s brows rose in inquiry as Bjorg leaned back in the chair. “On one level, it was a success. Hogwarts immediately accepted the proxies of the Founders’ heirs to access the wards and was very helpful – read eager to the point of desperation – in making sure no one knew we were there. The horcrux was recovered and we returned with dragon loads of lost items to disposition once we can admit we have them. That was the easy part. The first shit show was the wards, which took the entire team the better part of a day to minimally unfuck.”

“And ‘minimally unfuck’ means the warding team did what?” Voktar asked.

“Not nearly as much as anyone wanted to do, which was strip everything completely and rebuild. Just the initial mapping took the entire team more than ten hours.”

“You’re telling me it took half a dozen dwarves more than ten hours to map the wards to the school?” Voktar’s voice was skeptical, but Bjorg was staring at the liquor cabinet so the Chieftain waved it open and Bjorg grabbed a bottle without looking at. Kenna kicked his ankle – lightly for her – and he grabbed a second and let her take her choice.

“No, I’m not,” Bjorg said firmly as he opened the remaining bottle and took a swig without bothering to pour a glass. Kenna shrugged and did the same, so apparently Voktar wasn’t saying anything about manners today. “If we hadn’t called for help, we’d all still be there.

“I’m saying it took a team of nine masters and seventeen journeymen more than ten hours to map the wards. With the help of an uncounted number of apprentice scribes to take notes.” He pulled a large book’s worth of parchment out of his dimensional store and threw it on Voktar’s desk. “That’s the only copy, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t lose it.”

Voktar decided to ignore the dwarf swilling his best imported whiskey and took a look at the ward maps. Then he looked harder. “This doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nope.”

“Is this really recursive?” he murmured. “And how can you make this detection string both active and inactive? Why would you even try?”

“If the head of the Warding Guild couldn’t figure it out, I’m certainly not going to try.”

Voktar set the parchment he was holding down carefully. “Solveig Allhold was there in person?”

Bjorg nodded. “Master Bjarga led the original warding team. She wasn’t in the ward room five minutes before she was yelling for Solveig. Between the two of them I learned six new swear words today.” Voktar winced and rubbed his head.

“Okay, what did they actually do?”

“Once Solveig finished ranting about crimes against her craft, the warding team first reactivated everything that had been deactivated at a detection level and shunted the violation notices into recording. Then they did something to record all instances of activation of approved exceptions – it was pretty clear by that point that Hogwarts was actively helping them because Mahal only knows how long it would have taken to modify every exception we found in the ward map individually.

“Then she threw up a full ward overlay containing everything she approved of from the Hogwarts warding schemes we had on file and switched that to test-and-record mode. Finally, she and the masters did something to the ward stone I won’t pretend to understand.” Bjorg gestured to the pile of mapping parchment on Voktar’s desk.

“Most of the changes up to that point were annotated in color on the map, but after they finished with the ward stone she just scribbled ‘Floo me’ and her signature on the back of the last page and marched out.”

Voktar took a deep breath and let it out. “Okay, I will make time for Solveig tomorrow. What else?” He glanced at his wife. “And where’s Hakon?”

“That’s the next shit show,” Bjorg retorted. “Kenna, you want to take this one?”

Kenna set her glass down. “First, Hakon is completely fine and I never had to fight anything.”

He knew his wife well enough to sense the slight grumble in her voice. “You mean you didn’t get to fight anything.” She glared at him but didn’t argue the point.

“We had no trouble getting into the Chamber of Secrets or communicating with the basilisk,” Kenna informed him. “She was eager to speak with the parselmouths and immediately agreed to shield her eyes to protect her visitors. Her name is pronounced Hassiishalla as best I can manage it and means something about the beloved defender. She is more than a thousand years old and has been seriously fucked over.”

“Damn,” he said with feeling.

“Riddle tricked her into murdering a student under her protection, and she perceives the loss as a horrific failure of her fundamental duty. She feels she can no longer trust herself, and would prefer to die rather than risk a repetition.”

Voktar made some rapid connections. “Hakon went to try to find a mind healer for a basilisk?” Kenna nodded.

“He thought Harry Potter would want to try to help her,” Bjorg chimed in.

“He’s not wrong,” Voktar said.

“We brought her some food, warded the entrances, cleaned up a bit and promised to return,” Kenna continued. “I’m majorly annoyed that there was nothing for me to hit. We also collected more shed skin than the Horde has seen in centuries. Hakon is dropping it in the new joint vault of the Founders’ heirs until something is decided.”

“In the meantime, it has been a long day and I want to go persuade my husband to join me for dinner,” Bjorg announced. “Any other updates while we were out?”

“The Stonefoots are still making a Mahal-damned nuisance of themselves,” Voktar began. “They want the investigation over and access to accounts restored. They want the investigation delayed to find exculpatory evidence. They want to nominate an immediate replacement for Ironpyrite on the council. They refuse to participate in a council that was clearly corrupt and demand that each clan should be allowed to rule itself independently. They refuse to take any oaths or participate in the integrity testing Ari’s team had devised until every other dwarf has done what they will not.

“I considered murder an option but settled for denying all petitions until Regin finishes the criminal cases and Auda is done with the audits. Auda has been copying you on her twice-daily progress reports. They are practically a work of art, and I’m planning to get them added to the teaching materials as soon as possible.

“Ari has produced multiple prototypes for the integrity tester and they’re being evaluated. Brandr has already acquired controlling interests in the Wizarding Wireless Network and the Daily Prophet and shows no signs of stopping. I believe he is currently appearing to utterly destroy the value of the Ministry’s stake while working in parallel to eliminate any shareholders not clearly allied with the trio. I think only the Black family interest is likely to survive.

“The Healing Guild has presented a second appeal of the judgment against soon-to-be former Healer Hildr. I will deny it tomorrow, and then sanction the Guild until they come up with a corrective action plan to address the complete lack of respect for bodily autonomy displayed by one of their members. The sanctions will include denying their members the ability to purchase from the Potion Guild, use our healing halls, or receive payment for services.”

Bjorg whistled. “That should do it,” he said, taking another gulp of whiskey. “The Head of the Healing Guild had no business trying to use his position to shield his lover from the natural result of some completely screwed up ethics. But if you deny the appeal, how will you expel Hildr from the guild?”

Voktar’s smile would have sent many dwarves who knew him fleeing. “How could any corrective action plan that leaves her a member of the guild ever be acceptable?”

Bjorg laughed long and hard. “Gorad will never survive as Head.”

“He doesn’t deserve to survive if he’s not doing the job,” Voktar returned firmly.

Bjorg stood up. “Well on that happy note I will go and find my husband. And I’m taking the bottle.” After he let himself out, the guards closed the door firmly behind him. Kenna took another swig of a two hundred year old firewhiskey.

“I was saving that for a special occasion,” Voktar pointed out mildly. His wife’s eyes narrowed, and she raised the bottle again and started to drink.

After she finished about half of it, she belched with satisfaction. “Not bad.”

Voktar was not a stupid dwarf. He changed the subject. “So were the wards as fucked up as I’m hearing?”

“Yes.” One of the things he had immediately adored about Kenna was her habit of saying exactly what she thought. “Maybe more so.” She took another swig. “Bjarga got the Hogwarts job because she’s one of our best warders, and she barely started looking at them before yelling for Solveig. The two of them were swearing the most because they’re the smartest, and Solveig never said a word about ‘teaching moments’ the whole time. She just worked flat out.”

“Shit, damn, and blast.”

Kenna quirked a brow at him. “Why is ‘blast’ last in that list?”

“Potion Master Porr used it that way and literally blew up an inadequate cauldron on the last word.”

“Junior class?”

“Yes.”

Kenna smiled in satisfaction. “I like him.”

“He certainly weeds out the weak.” Voktar turned back to the issues at the top of his mind. “I think I’ll talk to Solveig about getting the record function on the wards at Harry’s house before we do the Ministry. I bet Grindelwald has had access to both of those as well.”

“I thought their Department of Mysteries was supposed to handle the Ministry warding?”

“They are, which means he’s been doing more convoluted maneuvering of the kind that seriously fucks up a ward map. No one is checking on the Dursleys, so that should be more straightforward and I really want to start recording over there quickly.”

Kenna took another swig and looked at him. “And maybe some additional notifications?” Voktar didn’t bother to wince as he’d long since given up on the idea of getting anything past his wife without her permission. The only secrets he could keep from her involved gifts, and only because she indulged him.

“Now that I know what’s going on, I am not going to let Harry Potter die in the next month. It would be absolutely ridiculous.”

“Because he’s now the equivalent of your ward and ordered you to ignore the abuse he’s suffering despite your duty to care for him.”

Voktar leaned back in his chair, raising his hands and then dropping them helplessly.

“I thought I was a strong dwarf, but even knowing that the gods approved this ridiculous plan of theirs doesn’t lessen the pull to just get him out of there. I tell myself I’m accelerating everything so I can respond in case it starts changing for the worse. I think the truth is that I don’t know how long I can hold out against the need to keep him safe.”

“He lived through this the first time,” his wife told him sympathetically. “There’s no reason to believe he won’t do it again.”

“From your lips to Mahal’s ears,” he muttered. “In the meantime, I’m going to keep moving as fast as possible.”

Chapter 5

Neville was doing his best, but he didn’t remember being eight. The physical side was a bit easier to manage as his body definitely operated differently than his adult one had, but he had failed to pay enough attention to managing his speech. He realized his mistake when his grandmother offered rare praise for his having spoken to her in a series of full, complex sentences with a more sophisticated vocabulary than he had previously demonstrated. He had escaped as soon as he could and asked Mokey for help in coaching him on how not to give himself away.

The good news was that Gran considered him too young to take on many errands and left him with the house-elves when she had other obligations. Mokey was happy to play messenger in getting communications around among the three travelers and the bank. The Potter elves were out of immediate danger, but Voktar was working with the head elf to carefully manage their return to work. A different elf visited each day with Harry, who was still fretting about their health.

The better news was that with more than two and a half weeks left in the month, the bank was done with almost everything. Both media targets had been acquired and were under new management which enforced ethical reporting standards by oath. Ward recording had been put in place at Hogwarts, the Dursleys, and the Ministry. Integrity checkers were created and ready to be placed, and Ari had added additional remote reporting elements to the new system which should be very helpful. Gringotts had the wraith in stasis, and was missing only the diary and locket horcruxes to complete the set.

Auditors were poised to correct account issues as soon as permission was granted, although compromised bank employees had already been dealt with. Voktar assured the three travelers that the executions would not alert any wixen involved in the corruption; other dwarves could adopt the appearance of the missing without detection. Apparently, the wizarding world did not realize that the “goblins” they met in the bank worked under glamor using identities from a common pool, effectively concealing their true numbers while mocking the stereotypical view of their species held by the foolish wizards.

Voktar’s letter, delivered by house-elf, followed the progress report with a proposed change to the plan. “Accordingly, I propose we summon Lord Black and Regent Longbottom to the bank and initiate cleansing immediately. We would all benefit from having them clear of any outside influences and fully briefed well in advance of the official change of government.”

Neville considered Voktar’s proposal. Gran could probably wait until just before Harry took his oath and activated the Regency, and Arcturus Black had a reputation as a shrewd and dangerous wizard. Either timing option could work. “Mokey, could you ask Hermione to join me for a brief discussion at her convenience?” Mokey popped back less than a minute later with Hermione who was holding a thin book and appeared to be at the end of her wits.

“Oh, thank Merlin, Neville,” Hermione said forcefully as she dropped to the floor and actually threw her book across the room.

“I’ll mention it the next time I see him,” Neville offered drily. “Badly written?”

“Actually, it won a Newberry Award, so I suppose it’s well written if you’re reading it as an eight year old. I am going to lose what’s left of my mind.”

“I’m not surprised – working near your physical age does not reflect the Hermione Granger standard of performance,” he teased gently.

“I need a library card,” she muttered, “but I don’t know how to get my parents to let me go to the library myself.”

“Please don’t start using a Confundus in your quest for reading material,” Neville returned lightly, despite suspecting Hermione would at least seriously consider it if limited to reading material suited to her physical age for very long. “Mokey, I’d like to start loaning Hermione books from our library but her parents will need to think they’re something more age appropriate if they see them. Can you help?”

Mokey nodded enthusiastically. “Mokey will help, as will Ulmey. Ulmey likes books!”

“Thank you, Mokey, that will be a big help. Can you make sure Ulmey knows what to do and pick out some books for Hermione to take home with her?” Mokey beamed happily and popped away, still nodding.

“There are family books that are restricted, but most won’t be so you should be able to find something,” Neville continued. “And I bet Harry will be willing to give you access to the Potter library when he can?”

Hermione straightened herself up until she appeared to be sitting at attention. “There’s a Potter library?” she asked with interest. Neville held back a smile.

“Of course. In addition to the older materials, it’s possible that Lily Potter’s reference materials were added to it as well.” Hermione inhaled deeply and her eyes widened. It was likely that at least a few of the vaults would have research material that predated relatively modern book binding, but better hold that in reserve. The Black library would be a better next step once Hermione exhausted the Longbottom and Potter libraries.

“Hermione, we didn’t get to speak much in between, but I understand you’re interested in a different relationship with Harry,” he prompted gently. Hermione crossed her arms and glared. It was oddly confusing coming from an eight-year-old.

“I intend to do everything in my power to marry him,” she announced firmly. “But even if we don’t end up together, I’ll be damned if I’ll allow him to be potioned into marriage. It’s absolutely disgusting, and I will not stand for it.”

“Agreed,” he interjected hastily. “Other than protecting Harry – preferably all of us – from being having our decision making impaired in any way, what do you have in mind?”

Hermione’s face fell, and her lower lip stuck out slightly. She had never been difficult to read, but her eight-year-old self was completely transparent. “I don’t know! Our bodies are just so young. It will literally be years before we can even start thinking about an adult relationship,” she announced mournfully, “Probably closer to a decade.”

Neville patted her back kindly. “It will be okay,” he soothed, even as he wondered how she would have coped with returning at the age of three if she was having this much trouble with eight. “We knew this would be rough at times, but we’ll get through it.”

“It’s not that I care about the other stuff that much – I mean, ugh, the thought, in these bodies, is kind of nauseating,” Hermione admitted. “I just really miss my best friend. And I can’t say growing up was all that much fun the first time – I definitely prefer being an adult. But that’s not an option if we’re going to save Magic, so I’m just going to have to be mature about this, do the best I can and see how it goes.”

“Well, I’m happy to help in providing new material for you to learn in the interim. I think that means we should discuss sponsorship,” Neville concluded.

“Sponsorship?”

“It’s fallen out of favor a bit over time, but it could be useful. You need a better magical education than you’ll get if you stay hidden in the muggle world until you get your Hogwarts letter. Neither you nor Harry ever had that and it was a definite handicap that you don’t need to repeat. Once Sirius is cleared, he’ll make sure Harry is taken care of. That leaves you.”

He could see Hermione processing. “Is this basically pureblood education?” she asked.

“In part,” he agreed. “It’s not all social rules and precedence if that’s what you’re asking, although that would certainly be included. There would be a lot of repetition in some areas – foundational magical theory, potion preparation skills, some Latin and so on. You’ll probably pick up some things no one thought to tell you, and the entire experience will give you a different perspective that might be helpful.”

“It’s the cultural part and social rules you think I need most,” Hermione said, holding up a hand as he started to respond. “I’m not opposed to learning that, and I think it’s a good suggestion. How do I apply to be sponsored?”

Neville snorted. “You don’t.”

“Then how –”

“It’s something that has to be offered,” Neville explained. “Like – well, would you ask the Muggle queen to knight you?” Hermione shook her head and frowned. “I can talk to Gran after she’s cleansed and briefed on what’s happening. I think she’d do it and do it well, but she knows nearly everybody and may have a better idea.”

“Now that I think about it, it sounds like a lot of work for someone to take on,” Hermione pointed out.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Neville assured her, then grinned. “Brightest witch of the age? And that was before you had the benefit of a lot more education. Sponsoring someone who does well brings honor to the sponsoring house, and that’s not even considering any of your new titles. I assure you that your sponsor is not going to regret it.

“Now the other option I considered was Andromeda Tonks. She was raised as a Black daughter but is also married to a muggle,” Neville pointed out.

“A No-Maj,” Hermione reminded him. “I intend to get that term changed.”

“Well then she’s married to someone familiar with the non-magical world,” he corrected, slightly impatient. “It’s something to consider, although nothing needs to be decided about your sponsorship right now.

“What I do want to decide is whether to have the dwarves go ahead with cleansing Lord Black and Gran early.” Neville handed her the report from the bank and waited while she read through it.

“So, more time to brief them and discuss things versus the possibility of being found out earlier than we planned,” she concluded slowly.

“Which Voktar says they can avoid.”

Hermione nodded. “Okay, I’m in favor.” She handed the letter back. “Let me know what Harry thinks.”

“He’s in favor,” Neville said absently, folding the letter up and calling for Mokey, who popped in promptly.

“Ulmey is filling a bag for you,” Mokey told Hermione happily. “You will talk to Ulmey before you leave.”

“Thank you!” Hermione’s face lit up. She grimaced at the chapter book on the floor, then stood up and went to retrieve it.

“After you take Hermione to talk to Ulmey, please take this to Harry and let him know Hermione and I are both in favor of proceeding. Unless he objects, take an approval back to Voktar.”

“I thought you said he was in favor?” Hermione asked.

Neville sighed. “He is,” he repeated. “You’re the one he trusts more than anyone else. As soon as you said you were in favor, I knew he was,” Neville explained.

Mokey popped Hermione away as she started to blush.

* * *

Neville was dressed and ready to go at breakfast the following day when an owl arrived from Gringotts. Gran skimmed it quickly and frowned.

“I’ll have to go in to the bank this morning. Hopefully it won’t take too long,” she told him and returned to her breakfast.

“May I go with you?” he asked politely.

Gran blinked and set her fork down to look at him. “To the bank?” Neville nodded. “There won’t be anything for you to do there.”

Neville tried to look earnest and trustworthy. “I’ll be able to see the bank,” he pointed out. “I can do that quietly.”

Gran smiled. “Your language and deportment are coming along very nicely, Neville. Yes, I think you can come with me this morning. It will be a good opportunity to teach you a bit about dealing with the goblins.”

While Gran’s advice as they walked from the public floo in Diagon Alley to Gringotts was not wholly terrible – her instructions focused on courtesy, respect, and efficiency – it was jarring to hear her casual references to “Goblins” now that he knew how insulting the term was. He reminded himself that it would not be long before he could share that information with her.

“Dowager Lady Longbottom arriving at Sindr’s request,” she said as she handed over her letter. The dwarf at the appointment desk glanced at it, dropped it in the chute for filing, and called for an escort in a matter of seconds. She walked over to join him and Neville realized her hand still held his quite firmly. Well, he decided philosophically, if he was stunned too, he could always be revived.

They rounded the corner into the first interior corridor and Gran dropped like a stone.

Neville blinked a moment and freed his hand as Voktar stepped into view.

“I thought I might be stunned along with her,” Neville said. “That was really well done.”

Voktar laughed. “Our magic is a bit different than yours, and our focus is often on using it as efficiently as possible,” he explained. They started walking to the healing halls, Gran floating along behind them.

A thought occurred to him, and Neville tensed slightly. “Is that healer on duty? The one that wanted to potion Harry against his will?”

Voktar shook his head. “No, she’s no longer a healer for the Horde.” He pressed some runes to open the door to a secure healing hall. “The new head of the Healing Guild has made sure everyone has been retrained on the importance of consent and the very few exceptions to that requirement.

“Beatr, here’s the patient we were expecting.” The healer who strode forward had the curliest beard Neville had ever seen.

“She’s one of the first wixen to come through the new integrity testers, and the report showed multiple compulsions, loyalty charms, and obliviations. Some of the compulsions have alchemic support.” Beatr frowned, his hands moving deftly above Gran even as she was being settled into the bed and results appeared above her. “Looks like a bit of a precursor to some slight mental deterioration, but we caught it early. Some nutritional deficiencies as well.” He drew a staff of rich wood entwined in lush vines that glowed with life and looked to Neville.

“I can clear most of it up here and now, although she will need some potion support going forward.”

“Do it,” Neville said firmly. “I want her as healthy as possible.”

“How long?” Voktar asked.

The healer shrugged. “Half hour, forty-five minutes, somewhere in there.”

“He’ll be with me when you’re ready to wake her up.”

Beatr frowned again. “I don’t wake people up when I’m ready,” he declared with the weary air of one who has repeated himself far too many times. “I wake them up when they’re ready.”

Voktar rolled his eyes and led Neville out of the healing hall. “Should we get you taken care of as well? I have the ritual team on standby.”

Neville considered. “Will it impact the evidence collection? They’ll be on the same day, but if the actual times are reported anywhere, it could cause problems later.” The Chieftain’s pace slowed, and he appeared to be thinking. “I’d rather wait a bit longer than take any risks.”

“You’re right. We can wait a little while longer.”

They spent their time waiting for Gran to wake going over some of his accounts. As much as he wanted to learn about the Duchy of Carmarthen and his heritage through Merlin, he told Voktar he wanted to focus instead on Hufflepuff first in preparation for dealing with Hogwarts. They were only able to get through a summary review before Gran was ready to wake and they were hurrying back to the healing halls.

He stepped up to the bed beside her and waited for signs that she was awake.

“Neville?” Gran mumbled as she opened her eyes.

“I’m right here, Gran,” he said calmly.

Her hand fluttered, and he grasped it with a gentle squeeze. “What happened? Did I faint?” She frowned.

“Not exactly,” Neville began, and Beatr stepped into view.

“Lady Longbottom, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” she said immediately. “Actually, I feel better than I have in recent memory. I’m going to sit up.” She pushed herself up firmly and cast a supervisory eye at the combined efforts of Neville and Beatr to adjust her pillows before repositioning herself against them.

“Well?” she asked.

“You have been laboring under a number of external influences that I have, with your grandson’s permission, removed. What remains can be addressed with a short-term potion regimen and possibly some nutritional supplements depending on your diet.” Beatr handed over a scroll and stepped back as she unrolled it. As she read it, her eyes darkened and she started muttering in French – a low-voiced stream of expletives that left Neville blinking.

“Grand’mère, je vous comprendsGrand’mère, je vous comprendsGrandmother, I understand you,” he warned quietly. She stilled.

“How?” she demanded.

Neville turned to Voktar. “How secure are we here?”

“Pretty secure, but I expect Beatr will want his bed back if you’re done using it,” he replied drily. “I’ve arranged a small conference room adjacent to my office when you’re ready.”

Once they moved to the conference room, Gran listened in silence as Neville summarized the events from their first lives. Harry abused for years, both at home and at Hogwarts. Deliberately kept ignorant, his magic crippled by a jealous old man who pretended to be Light. Led to suicide, then potioned into a marriage against his will and murdered by his “family,” the latter a fate also suffered by the brightest witch of the age. Then a bit about Neville’s own life as it continued until his death. While Neville had not lived the life he wanted, he never thought he suffered nearly as much as Harry and Hermione had.

Then the time in between with the gods before being sent back to try again.

He paused to take a drink before he continued to the bits about titles, and Hogwarts, and getting rid of the second Dark Lord, and fixing the government – then he realized his Gran was crying.

“Gran, what’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Are you in pain?”

She mouthed his name through her tears, then reached out and pulled him into her arms. He patted her reassuringly with his too-small arms and wondered what was wrong.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered into his hair, then kissed the top of his head. “I wasn’t what you needed –”

“Gran, I know what Grindelwald did to you, it’s not your fault!”

“I know, dear, I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that I wasn’t what you needed.” She pulled back enough to meet his eyes. “Even if it wasn’t my fault, I wasn’t there for you in the way I have always wanted to be. And I’m sorry for that.” Neville didn’t know what to do with this.

“Maybe both of us got a second chance,” she mused aloud. “I intend to make the most of it.”

Neville patted her again and slid down before climbing back into his chair. He looked rather helplessly at Voktar, who kindly stepped in to continue the briefing.

When they got to the part about his titles, Gran started giggling. Neville looked to Voktar for assistance, but his expression was carefully neutral.

“Merlin!” she managed finally. “Albus and Algie were both trying to convince me that you’d never amount to much magically, and you’re the first ever heir to Merlin! I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to seeing the expressions on their faces when they hear.”

Voktar set his parchment down. “Lady Longbottom,” he began seriously, “it is essential –”

Neville jumped in urgently at the same time. “Gran, you can’t tell anyone that I’m –”

She waved a hand at both of them. “I know, I know, but they’ll find out someday, in this life or the next! I just hope I get to see their faces when they do.”

“We do need to get his core unblocked at some point,” Voktar interjected. “I do have a ritual team available –”

“Yes, of course. As soon as possible.”

“I can wait until the briefing is finished,” Neville pointed out, but Gran shook her head.

“Anything that can be fixed should be, and as soon as possible,” she said firmly. “I’ll come with you.”

“That’s all right, you stay here and keep going,” he told her. “I know my way around enough to get there myself.”

Gran frowned, and Voktar pressed a rune under the desk to summon an escort.

“All right, dear,” she told him. “I’ll see you when you’re finished.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, Voktar pulled out two letters and two silver vials. “Ma’am, His Majesty and Her Highness asked that I deliver these to you at the first opportunity. They have also provided memories of your grandson for your viewing if you should so choose.”

“Oh!” She reached across the table and picked up the letters first. After a moment of hesitation, she tore one open, seemingly at random, and started reading. After she finished the second, she put them both down. “My grandson has some very good friends.”

Voktar nodded. “He is himself a remarkable young man.”

She smiled and blinked hard. “He is, isn’t he?” She dabbed her eyes briefly with a handkerchief. “Do you have a pensieve handy, and would you care to join me?”

“I do and I would.”

The moment they arrived in the memory, Voktar paused it to look around what he quickly realized was the ruins of Hogwarts in the midst of a battle. Voldemort and his followers were lined up on one side, with the defenders of the school – some of whom were clearly still students – on the other. Neville was obviously injured, and Lady Longbottom was studying his older self with tears in her eyes.

“Are you ready?” he asked, and she nodded. They watched in amazement as Neville defied Riddle and rallied the defenders, drawing the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat as the battle resumed and the memory ended. A moment later, there were in another memory, watching Neville behead Nagini, then creeping through the rubble to see Harry’s final defeat of Riddle.

Back in the conference room, she picked up one of the letters in each hand. “While Neville’s loyalty is both an inspiration and a credit to Hufflepuff, no one seeing his defiance of Voldemort or the way he wielded the Sword of Gryffindor could ever doubt his strength or courage,” she read aloud from one. The other yielded, “Neville’s quiet presence in my life and unfailing support have been an unexpected gift. He is not only a great wizard – he is the best person I know.” She set them back down and dropped into a chair. “This has been an extraordinary day.”

Voktar snorted. “I have had a number of extraordinary days since I met your grandson less than two weeks ago.” He studied Lady Longbottom for a moment. “I have some very good firewhiskey or an excellent scotch if you care to join me for a glass?”

“I would love to,” she smiled. “Please feel free to call me Augusta.”

Chapter 6

In another part of the bank, Beatr was scanning Neville and taking notes.

“Well,” he began, “it’s better than expected in some areas and worse in others. Nothing alchemic, which is good, and there are not as many behavioral modifications as I feared.”

“But you’re making the records?” Neville interrupted.

“Yes, of course,” Beatr returned with a touch of impatience. “Your core binding, however, is severe. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one so strong on anyone with a core the size of yours, nor one this bad on someone of your physical age.” He frowned. “In fact, I think the only time I saw a binding anything close to this one was binding an adult criminal, and he would have been stripped of his magic outright if not for – well, that’s not really important. What is important is that I need to share this with the ritual team as soon as I fix your other issues.”

“That’s fine.”

Beatr drew his staff and his eyes flared in anger. “No, it is not fine,” he ejaculated, his hands clenching and unclenching around his staff. “I want to do unspeakable things to the criminal who did this to you! I think about binding his core the way yours was bound and all I can think is that it’s not nearly enough! And I’m a healer – I am not supposed to be thinking like this, about all the terrible things I could do to him until the pain reduces him to mindless gibbering. And finally, when I’m done with him, I would shave his beard!”

The healer was so furious that it would not have been polite to laugh at his idea of the ultimate indignity. Neville held on to his composure and tried not to giggle.

“That’s why I asked about the records,” he managed after a long moment. “Because you’re going to fix the other stuff and it will all disappear. All we’ll have left will be the records.” This earned him a sharp nod.

“You’re right,” Beatr agreed firmly. “My records will be the best ever seen.”

Neville swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, and wondered if Beatr would be on duty when it was Harry’s turn.

The preparation for the ritual was more extensive than Neville expected, in part because Beatr seemed to be intent on fixing everything magic could possibly fix before sending him off to the ritual. The ritual itself was interesting, right up until the point when an explosive wave of magic knocked him unconscious.

* * *

While Neville was being treated – and then sleeping off his recovery – Arcturus Black had also been receiving healing. Unlike Neville, he had not lost consciousness. Although he would still need time and care to fully recover, he recovered enough to start demanding action and was dispatched to join Augusta in Voktar’s conference room.

Voktar did not complain even internally about repeating the explanation of the trio’s purpose and history – he was enjoying himself too much. He particularly liked sharing the news about their new titles. Lord Black was making impressive inroads into the firewhiskey.

“Are you actually telling me that Sirius is supposed to be raising the future High King?” he demanded.

“He is Harry’s oath-sworn godfather and the Potters named him first to receive custody of their child,” Voktar answered simply. “It will be interesting to see what Mirdam Magic will do in handling the Regency and the various proxies. Without making any comments on the suitability of your heir to serve as Regent, it might lead people to draw the correct conclusions about the High King’s identity sooner than we would wish.”

Lord Black snorted and took another swig of his firewhiskey. “I admit it would not have occurred to me that Sirius could be suitable for such a thing, but I think we can both agree that my judgment has not been what it should have been lately,” he said drily. “While I’m glad for the adjustments you’re making to my ring, I’m not sure that the Dark Lord in Light clothing won’t find another way to resume controlling us as soon as he catches on that we’ve slipped the leash.” Augusta nodded firmly beside him. “I like the idea of keeping Harry and Pendragon’s Heir separate in the public’s mind. Any time Grindelwald spends chasing the identity of the new High King is time he can’t invest in ruining Harry.

“On the other hand, I admit to an almost Gryffindor-like desire to utterly annihilate Lucius Malfoy as soon as possible. I can’t see any advantage to leaving him alive to keep trying to take the Black lordship for his whelp. I plan to disown Narcissa and their spawn at the earliest opportunity which won’t damage our other plans.”

“Perhaps you recall I mentioned that I’d like to return to the subject of horcruxes?” Voktar prompted.

“Yes?”

“We’ve collected all but two of them –”

“How many did that madman make?” Lord Black demanded, then waived his own question away. “Never mind, keep going.”

“And both should be recoverable with your help and that of a family house-elf.”

Lord Black cocked his head to one side for a moment. “You don’t want me to disown Narcissa too quickly, which means Malfoy has one of them.” Voktar nodded. “The other?”

“In the Black townhouse at Grimmauld Place.”

“Walburga,” Lord Black muttered, almost hissing.

“I understand that it came to be there through the courage of your other grandson, Regulus Black, in defying Voldemort and stealing his horcrux, as well as the devotion of a family house-elf, Kreacher, who still seeks a way to fulfill his promise to destroy it.”

“Didn’t expect that,” Lord Black admitted, and then summoned Kreacher.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, the last of the horcruxes were in the possession of the bank, and the locket on its way to a ritual to transfer its horcrux to something less valuable.

* * *

Neville woke up in the infirmary feeling so good that even the news that they had recovered the last of the horcruxes could hardly improve his mood. A quick round of messages via house-elf concluded with an agreement that Harry would destroy the horcruxes through the veil of death when they went to reactivate the protections in the Wizengamot and allow Harry to declare himself as High King. The dwarves would hold the wraith in stasis until its destruction would benefit them the most.

After a bit of his euphoria tapered off – it felt as though he had been squeezed into a very tiny space his entire life and finally freed to be able to move again – he realized that he was seeing an odd glow around Mokey that lingered when she popped away. Studying the healers revealed that they too were occasionally illuminated by a glow, although the color was so earthlike it was far less noticeable.

“I think I have mage sight,” Neville murmured to himself.

Beatr heard him from the little table where he was filling out some sort of parchment work and glanced up. “Not surprising,” he said.

Neville blinked. “Well, it surprised me,” he pointed out.

Beatr snorted a little before rising to walk over to Neville and casting some more monitoring spells.

“It will take a while for you to adjust to your new levels, but you’ll have an easier time than might have been the case as your magic is both very pure and deeply entrenched in nature.” The healer frowned. “If you’re trying to keep these changes quiet, we can provide items to assist you in containing your strength but you would have to agree to strict limits on their use. Our items of this type are much gentler than comparable wizard-made items as we use them for training people to contain their own magic rather than limiting it forcibly.

“That does not mean prolonged use is healthy, and the risk of damaging your magic is much higher during a period of recovery. The more you can leave your magic unrestricted in any way, the healthier you and your magic will be.”

“I’m not worried about a little mage sight,” Neville said calmly. “I’m sure the adjustment will be fine. Greenwood Manor has extensive private grounds and I plan to spend as much time outside as possible.”

The healer nodded. “A good plan. Nevertheless, if you have any issues at all you are to have your elf bring you back immediately.”

Neville concluded the healer really wasn’t very worried because he let Neville dress and leave to join the others as soon as he gave his assurances.

He arrived at the conference room and quickly reached the conclusion that Gran and Lord Black had been imbibing pretty freely, and that Voktar, while not as strongly affected, had been relaxed enough to offer the refreshments.

“Neville,” Gran declared looking at him tearfully without moving from the table. “Neville, Neville, Neville. I never realized how much I liked that name.”

“A fine name indeed,” Lord Black declared, raising his glass and taking another swallow as if toasting Neville’s name. Gran immediately followed suit.

Neville looked at Voktar, who shrugged slightly and raised his own.

“We’re celebrating the acquisition of the last of the horcruxes,” Voktar explained after he finished swallowing.

“Yes, I heard,” Neville said carefully. It would not do to start laughing, so he focused on getting seated in a chair. “Harry will send them through the veil when we go in to clean up the Wizengamot.”

Gran’s eyes widened. “Yes!” she shouted happily. “We can all go in and clean up the Wiz!”

“I will join you!” Lord Black declared. Voktar just shrugged again which was absolutely no help at all.

“Well, we were planning to go in the middle of the night,” Neville said carefully. “I would not want to keep you from your rest, especially just before an important emergency session.”

Gran frowned and set her glass down. “That’s very sad,” she said mournfully and Lord Black nodded his agreement. “I didn’t help you, and you had to cut up a snake. With a sword. Without me.” She studied him sadly. “And you’re so little.”

“I was bigger when I had to cut up the snake,” Neville pointed out. “I don’t have to do that this time.”

Lord Black gulped the rest of his glass down and slammed it decisively down on the table. “This is ridiculous,” he declared loudly. “Are we wizards or not?” He rose to his feet dramatically, and then paused as he looked carefully around the room. “Well, a wizard, a witch, a Dwarven Chieftain, and a Neville.” He considered this, swaying slightly, and then thumped the table again. “Well, I say that is just as good as any number of wizards!”

“Hear, hear,” Voktar agreed. Gran nodded so hard her hat slid down in front of her eyes. She pulled it off and glared at it before setting it on the table.

“So I say to you here and now that I am ready to do my part to fix the Wiz, day or night! Waking or sleeping! In clear skies or the storm of the century!” Lord Black’s resonant voice boomed out in the small conference room as though he were disclaiming in an amphitheater before thousands, and Gran was staring at him enraptured. “We will advance to the ward stone and woe betide any who would dare to try to stop us!

“And if some of us have to appear in an emergency session later, well, all I can say is Pepper-Up for all!”

* * *

The alcohol had worn off long before the night they had planned for their break in, but Gran’s determination to join the expedition to sneak into the chamber under the Wizengamot to fix the ward stone had not.

Nor had her tendency to tear up when she looked at him. She stopped talking about how little he was – at least where he could hear her – but it was embarrassingly obvious that she was thinking it when she looked at him. The gardens and grounds of Greenwood were a welcome respite whenever he could retreat into nature, but she was much more likely to seek him out even there if she was at home. Gran was now clearly determined to support him, and Neville decided not to fight her.

Instead, he started sharing other information – bits of their plans, information on how the first timeline had progressed, and what they hoped to accomplish. He covered what they wanted to change in Hogwarts and in the system of laws. On a more personal note, he discussed sponsorship options for Hermione with Gran, and found she did indeed have other suggestions he hadn’t considered, including Lady Greengrass. She was a former Ravenclaw, and had raised two daughters with the potential to become useful allies. They would have to wait a while before approaching her, but she seemed a good prospect.

The result of the discussions on this and many other topics was that he and his Gran had forged a stronger foundation for their new relationship. By the time he ended up back in the bank in the middle of the night, he was pleased that she was with him.

They were also accompanied by Harry, Lord Black, Voktar, and an assortment of dwarves which included both Voktar’s wife and his son. Harry had been the last to arrive, and Lord Black, who had not seen him before, surveyed the dangerously small eight-year-old form and clamped his jaw together while his grey eyes iced over.

Although Beatr would not be joining the expedition, he appeared to give Harry a series of potions and a lecture, both of which Harry took without complaint.

As soon as Harry finished the last potion, Voktar spoke.

“Warder Allhold has recommended our approach which will take us under the Ministry until we can access the ward stone. While the Department of Mysteries would normally enter the ward room from the lowest floor in their department, we will be going up through a back door entrance that was provided for maintenance. It is believed to be forgotten by Ministry personnel, and we do not anticipate any significant difficulty in approaching the room containing the ward stone.

“Harry and Neville are likely to be needed to gain access to the ward room and to actually provide the authority to make any changes required to restore the ward stone, so they will be traveling near the front. Lady Longbottom and Lord Black will remain close to them.

“Warder Allhold is in charge,” Voktar said flatly. “If she gives an order, I expect all of you to obey it instantly, as I will do myself. Anyone who may have a problem with that will remain here until we return. Any questions?” Voktar only waited a half a breath before giving the order to start.

Warder Allhold led the way with a couple of dwarves who could have been warders or guards – Neville wasn’t sure how to figure out which – followed by Voktar who was right in front of Harry and Neville. The first part of the journey was by minecart, which rather limited conversation, but they soon resumed walking in formation once they reached the correct tunnel deep within the bank.

“Harry, how are you doing?” Neville asked, careful to keep his voice down. He wasn’t sure whether Harry noticed that Lord Black, behind him, had stopped talking to Gran to listen to Neville’s conversation with Harry.

Harry glanced at Neville with too-old eyes.

“It’s really not that bad. You and Hermione seem to forget that this went on for a lot longer the first time and I survived it.”

“The first time it happened, I didn’t know about it,” Neville pointed out. “And I was not charged with taking care of Grindelwald, who is the primary person responsible for your mistreatment.”

“Nev –”

Neville held up a hand. “I am not trying to talk you into changing the plan. I know you survived it the first time. I know it’s not much longer. But Harry, you are still my friend. And I’m asking my friend how he is doing.” Harry’s eyes met his, then dropped to the scraps that made up his shoes. Neville frowned and sent a little wandless magic to hold them together and add some comfort charms. “They won’t notice,” he said before Harry could object.

“Thanks. And it’s – I’m managing,” Harry said more honestly. “It’s a little weird because it’s sort of harder. The first time I had never experienced anything else, so I thought it was more normal than it actually is. I didn’t fully realize how bad some of it is. Was.” His face scrunched up. “The time stuff is messing things up a bit in my head. I don’t feel like the same person. And I just really miss seeing Hermione – letters just aren’t the same. I wish she had come with us tonight. Everything’s different when she’s here.”

Neville looked over at him before returning his eyes to the tunnel. His allowed a small amount of his mage sight to shift in to reveal the gentle glow of the magic of earth and stone that made it easier to find his way, leaving a bit more mental energy to consider the Harry-Hermione problem. Was Harry really that oblivious? Neville shot him another glance and inwardly sighed. Probably.

This could lead to serious relationship problems that he really wanted nothing to do with.

“It will probably continue to be different,” Neville pointed out. “After all, this time you won’t be potioned in marrying Ginny, and Hermione won’t be forced into marrying Ron.”

Harry’s eyes tightened. “I still can’t believe that they did that to her – it’s horrible, and it certainly ought to be criminal! We have to get that fixed. No one should be subjected to love potions, but for the brightest witch of the age to be stuck supporting the laziest wizard ever born is particularly offensive.”

“Well, neither of you will be stuck that way this time,” Neville pointed out, “Which means both of you will have other options.”

“Other options for what?”

“For marriage,” Neville said, charging ahead like the Gryffindor he had been. “You can marry other people.”

Harry’s pace slowed, and Neville noticed Voktar subtly signaling to the dwarves to slow as well.

“Marry other people?”

“Other than Ron and Ginny? Absolutely. I certainly don’t think either of you should marry them again.” Harry was frowning in silence. “Do you want to marry Ginny again?” Neville asked.

“No, of course not,” Harry said.

“Well, then?” Neville prodded lightly. “You have options.”

“Neville, we’re eight,” Harry pointed out.

Neville rolled his eyes. “Harry, no one is suggesting doing anything at all for many, many years. Not even dating. I am just pointing out that we have a unique perspective in this situation. For example, I don’t think I would marry Hannah again. Our relationship was … not terrible, but it was not what I hoped for. If we have a second chance, I would like to do better in choosing a wife and see if I could find someone more compatible.”

Harry came to a dead stop. “You want to marry Hermione,” he accused.

“What? No!” Neville expostulated. “I most certainly do not want to marry Hermione!”

Harry’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What’s wrong with Hermione?”

Neville struggled to come up with an appropriate response while just behind him, Gran raised a handkerchief in front her mouth concealing most of her expression. Her eyes were laughing and Lord Black was also clearly enjoying the conversation.

“Harry, I am not obligated to want to marry anyone just because there’s nothing wrong with them,” Neville said calmly.

“Hermione is amazing,” Harry insisted.

“Merlin help us, this is embarrassing,” Lord Black muttered behind them.

“There is no need to be defensive. I am not attacking Hermione,” Neville pointed out. “I have the highest regard for Hermione, although I am starting to question her taste just at this particular moment.”

“Why would you –” Harry was silent for a long moment, then said “Oh,” as though expelling his breath in a sigh. His eyes drilled into Neville’s. “You think I could have a chance?”

Neville quickly concluded that this was not the time to be wishy-washy, and simply said “Yes.” Then he added, “If that’s something you both want as adults, of course – but there are worse things in life than marrying the person you trust most in the world who is also your best friend.”

Harry nodded, then lapsed into thought as Voktar had started them climbing again.

Chapter 7

Neville and Harry had finished the rest of the journey in thoughtful silence, finally arriving at the entrance to the ward room. With the warding team and Voktar filling the space on the small landing, Neville wasn’t able to see much at first. When they called Harry and him forward and moved out of the way, he caught his first glimpse of the light of the wards over the door. Coming closer, he was ushered to the side where the warders had uncovered a hidden panel in the wall. It was a wheel of pictograms.

“It will be easier if you can open it directly so we don’t have to tear down the wards,” Voktar explained to Harry. Harry blinked and studied the pictures. Neville waited. Harry wasn’t doing anything, and if the wards were in bad shape, they would need all the time they could get.

“Thoughts?” Neville asked Harry quietly.

Harry shrugged. “Stone, sword, and crown? Or stone, sword, and water? Stone, sword, crown, and water? But the sword was created before it was inserted in the stone, so I’m not sure that part of the order is right. And do I have to use all of them, because there’s a lot more than four?”

There had to be more he could do to help Harry. Neville relaxed his restraint on his mage sight for a moment and centered himself, then reached forward and opened the entire panel which proved to be hinged inside. He pulsed his magic with one hand next to the lever as he moved it with the other. The door opened.

Everyone within sight seemed to be staring at him.

“Merlin, remember? The one who made all of this?”

The lead warder led them in, although Voktar silently used his staff to clearly direct people away from the center of the room where the warding team was circling the central structure.

They watched the dwarven team work in silence for a while. Then Harry murmured, “This looks really bad.”

“It is.”

The warders were clearly frustrated and furious, directing huge waves of magic toward the center of the ward. Neville studied them, then cast a quick wandless tempus and frowned. He pulled Harry forward toward the warders, nodding at Voktar to join them as they approached.

“Head Warder?” Neville asked respectfully. Solveig Allhold grimaced and held a hand up to pause the team.

“The ward stone is barely alive,” she announced grimly. “I don’t know if we can charge it quickly enough to power any of the conduits. If this doesn’t work, we may need to see about blocking some of them to get enough power to others or rescheduling the date.”

Neville held back a sigh.

“You need to stop thinking of it as a ward stone,” he said firmly. “It isn’t, and it never has been.” She frowned and started to open her mouth to speak as Neville raised a hand to stop her. “Myrddin was a druid,” he reminded them. “This ward is not a stone and conduit system. You’re trying to power the trunk of a tree by hitting it. I can’t tell you how inefficient that is.” He stepped closer to the center.

“This isn’t a pedestal, it’s a basin for the water that should represent the magical strength coming from the ley lines. The fact that it’s dry means that access to the ley lines has been blocked somehow. Trees draw their strength from below.”

After a brief silence, Warder Allhold started issuing orders. “I’ll take a small team and head back down toward the ley lines.” She glanced at Neville and said, “You’re with me. Hakon, bring whoever you need. Journeyman Afon with me, the rest wait here – mapping and diagnostics only.”

Moments later, the smaller group, including Neville and Gran, started back down the stairs. They were accompanied by Hakon and Kenna, who carried a war hammer that was almost bigger than she was with no more notice than if it were a small piece of parchment.

At the base of the stairs, they marched in a completely new direction, apparently to access another set of stairs going down. Then they did it again.

Going down all these flights of stairs wasn’t that bad, but Neville was not looking forward to trying to go up again on his eight-year-old legs.

As they exited the third long spiral staircase and started walking again, Warder Allhold stopped and taught Neville a few more swear words. Neville turned and stared at the wall that offended the warder.

“This is not supposed to be here,” Warder Allhold announced venomously. “When I find out what feeble and forsworn born-of-an-oath-breaker sealed this up, I’ll seal them up inside the most torturous reverse wards ever dreamed of! No simple beheading for them, oh no! I’ll make Nabisian methods look like tickling charms! I’ll –”

“Do you need me to bear witness to the record?” Hakon asked smoothly. Warder Allhold whirled around as if she had forgotten Hakon was there. Hakon returned her look calmly, and the warder collected herself.

“Yes, that will do,” she said, much less violently as she turned back and drew her staff. Hakon held up a crystal of some sort and Warder Allhold started to cast. Even Neville could tell that her casting was a thing of beauty, powerful and precise without a single wasted motion. He didn’t understand enough to translate all of the information displayed, but he could see through the stone to where the ley lines had been diverted and – capped? Oh dear, that looked bad. Raw magic shouldn’t be trapped like that with no place to go.

The spell finished, and Hakon nodded to the warder before dropping the crystal into a pouch.

“It’s going to be very hard to hold while we fix this,” the warder murmured. “Maybe we should pull in another team?”

“Are you planning to just unblock it?” Neville asked, frowning. “Because that seems quite likely to make it explode.”

The warder’s assistant bridled visibly and Allhold gestured her to silence. “That’s why I was so angry. Do you have another idea?”

“Can you drill a hole?” Neville asked.

“A hole?”

“In the same direction the power from the ley lines needs to go, but just to relieve the pressure at first. After you break through and the pressure reduces, you can widen the hole a bit more and let it settle again. You can keep doing it until you think you can unblock it fully without, well –” Neville threw his hands apart to reflect an explosion.

Warder Allhold nodded decisively and turned back to her journeyman assistant. “What do you think?”

“It’s absurd,” she burst out. “How could this immature little wizard suggest anything to the greatest dwarven warder alive? How he dared – it’s another sign of the incredible disrespect in which we are held and absolutely insulting.”

“I’m not actually the greatest dwarven warder alive,” Allhold told her calmly. “My predecessor may not be quite as active in warding any more, but she is still alive – which you should know if you were a bit more diligent as she wrote most of the textbooks and still gives occasional guest lectures. I am, however, very, very good – mostly because I listened to some very wise advice.

“If you stop learning, you will start failing,” she finished bluntly. “It doesn’t matter where good ideas come from, and there is certainly nothing insulting about someone else having one. Once you think you know it all, you become a liability – one I can’t afford to have on my team.”

The other warder was now shockingly pale, and Allhold scribbled something on a piece of parchment and handed it to her. “You are to return to the guild hall with all possible speed and find young Rockshaper. Give her these coordinates and tell her I needed her here fifteen minutes ago.” The former assistant was now making silent gaping faces opening and closing her mouth like a fish but without moving. Suddenly Allhold bellowed, “GO NOW!” and she disappeared with a squeak.

There was a long silence.

“Should I apologize for anything?” Neville asked, hoping that Allhold preferred bluntness as much as Voktar did. She barked a quick laugh – the first Neville had heard from her – and shook her head.

“That happens a lot once they hit journeyman,” she said. “If it does – well, you have to knock some sense into their heads if they’re ever going to get any better.” Another dwarf appeared and Allhold quickly filled her in.

Rockshaper was on the small side for a dwarf, although Neville had long since come to the conclusion that he should never consider size in estimating skills or abilities. Her eyes lit as she heard Allhold out, and turned to study the wall as if she could see through it. Neville wasn’t discounting the possibility.

“I can do it,” she said with certainty, cocking her head to the side as she continued to contemplate the stone wall. “It’s more a question of how long it will take – it may require multiple rounds.”

“Can I help?” Neville asked.

Rockshaper turned to look at him curiously. “I don’t know – can you?” she asked.

“I have a fair amount of raw power, although I’m certainly not trained.” Rockshaper turned to the Lead Warder.

“We need to get this done fairly quickly, so if you can draw on him safely to keep you going…” Allhold suggested.

Rockshaper shrugged and held out a hand. “You’ll keep everything else stable while I drill?” she asked Allhold, and she started to cast. Neville felt for Rockshaper in his magic, and easily found the connection through their linked hands. Her magical tone was solid and powerful, yet oddly comfortable. He readied himself to feed magic to her, and sensed her starting to work a moment later. Gran stepped forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder which anchored him, and he closed his eyes and started to move magic.

He could feel it all around him, not just in his core – the power of the ley lines, tormented and trapped behind rock. The magic of the others in the room was so clear to him that he could have found any of them in the dark with his eyes closed. He could also sense the gentle strength of Allhold’s barrier between the rock and the ley lines; she seemed to be soothing the unhappy magic. He started to sense things further out – there were not only dwarves, but dragons nearby – and then reined himself back in to focus on keeping the flow of magic steady for Rockshaper. It wouldn’t do to get distracted.

He sensed the moment she broke through the barrier rock and stopped pulling from him, and the moment Allhold pulled back her own ward enough to let the energies of the ley lines through the newly formed opening. There was a spurt of power, but it was not as harsh as it could have been.

“How are you doing?” Rockshaper asked.

“Fine,” he assured her, then sensed his Gran’s quick diagnostic with some amusement. “I really am fine.”

“He is,” Gran agreed.

“Are you ready for me to widen the hole?”

“Any time.”

Neville didn’t bother counting the rounds of this – the magic Rockshaper needed from him was inconsequential now that his core was unblocked, although he was not using his core for anything other than modulating the flow he drew to pass directly to her. Eventually, she finished her part, and Neville opened his eyes as Allhold finally released her temporary protective warding and then checked the time.

“Well, that was longer than I would have liked since I didn’t plan to do it at all,” Allhold admitted, “but we still finished much more quickly than expected.” She glanced at Neville, nodded at him, and then turned to Hakon. “I’d like to go directly back to the ward room and skip the stairs if you don’t mind,” she continued, so they all gathered round and then portkeyed back to the landing outside the ward room and directly into a wash of colored light.

The light was streaming from the ward room out through the open door onto the landing. Warder Allhold started into the room, then stopped dead in the doorway. Rockshaper poked her slightly to get her moving again so they could all file in.

It was beautiful.

Water sparkled and bubbled up within the basin and light was spreading up the ward tree in ribbons and flashes of every color of the rainbow as it slowly swirled upwards. They stood and watched it growing up through the many large limbs of the tree, then to the smaller ones, and finally into the ceiling as the light spread to the tiniest of twigs that remained. Once the tree was full, the lights no longer pushed upward but flickered and danced instead.

It was breathtaking.

At some point, Allhold stopped staring and started casting along with the two other warders. Neville went over to Harry, who was still staring at the light, and nudged his shoulder.

“This is amazing,” Harry said quietly. “So much of the magical world has been – difficult,” he added, “and then I get to see something like this, and I’m reminded of how wonderful magic can be.”

“It’s going to get better,” Neville promised. “I’m sure of it.”

When Allhold finished, she turned back to face the rest of the room. “The wards are going to be fine,” she announced clearly. “The only problem with them was that someone turned off the power.”

Lord Black frowned. “That should have been a dramatic change. Why did no one notice?”

“Two reasons,” Allhold replied. “First, this ward tree holds a lot of power. Even after the supply was cut off, it would have been able to keep working for a very long time. It also would have gradually pulled back from some non-core functions to conserve power over the decades since it lost access to the ley lines. This would have appeared to be a slow decline rather than an immediate one.

“Second, title verification shifted to backup functions in the courtrooms drawing on ambient magic instead of the true source. Without access to the foundational ward, the courtroom nodes would only support limited familial verification. It’s not anything near what it should be, but I bet there are many who prefer not to be bound by oath to do their duty. They were not likely to complain.”

Lord Black’s mouth thinned.

“I hate to say it, but time is passing and I need to get back to the Dursleys,” Harry interjected. “What do you need me to do?”

“Call the sword, then make your oath and add it to the basin,” Neville told him promptly. Allhold and Voktar both blinked at him, but he ignored them in favor of Harry.

“The Sword of Gryffindor?”

“If it makes you feel better to think of it that way, it’s fine, but – sort-of, not-really?”

Harry rolled his eyes, then closed them and extended his arms and the sword arrived in a flash of light.

“It looks like the pictures of the Sword of Gryffindor,” Lord Black said dubiously.

“Well, Harry is the Duke of Gryffindor,” Neville pointed out. “But I agree it might be better to separate them now.” He extended his hand to Ganwydyn Avalon, not touching it but sending a tendril of magic across the last few inches and letting the legendary sword that was so much more taste his soul.

It’s time to show yourself.

There was a pulse of light and then there were two swords. Ganwydyn Avalon, the legendary sword of the High King, shone with shocking purity as Harry grasped it in one hand while the Sword of Gryffindor twinkled happily in the other. He was vaguely aware that the others in the room were falling to their knees.

“Okay, so how do I make the oath and add it to the basin?” Harry asked.

“Harry, this is your sword you know. You really don’t need me to talk to her for you.”

Harry shot him a dubious look. “You want me to talk to the sword?”

Neville managed to refrain from rolling his eyes at Harry while the two of them were trying to establish Harry’s position as High King of the Magical Realm.

“Yes, Harry, I want you to talk to Ganwydyn Avalon. You need to make your oath, and I’ll thank you to remember that she is a good deal more than merely a sentient sword or the symbol of your right to rule. You don’t need to do it aloud but you do need to intend to communicate with her. She is perfectly capable of letting you know what she wants or thinks.”

Harry still looked doubtful, but set his jaw firmly and stared at the glowing sword. A moment later his expression cleared and he walked over to Voktar. “She wants to know you,” Harry said, extending her toward the Dwarven Chieftain. “Can you touch her please?”

Voktar raised his head slowly in the light. “Your Majesty?” he breathed in the silence.

Harry looked both serious and encouraging. “She asked for you,” he said simply, and Voktar raised trembling hands and gently framed the end of the sword as if in prayer. There was a long moment of silence, and then he dropped them as tears fell from his eyes.

“She wanted to know you before you become Regent,” Harry explained. “It isn’t really a routine thing, but she will allow you to wield her in Our defense.”

“You honor me,” Voktar said. It was unclear whether he was addressing Harry or the sword, but it probably didn’t matter.

Harry walked back toward the basin, still holding both swords when he stopped. “Um, Neville, could you –” Neville reached out and took the Sword of Gryffindor which was still putting on its own display and obviously did not want to be banished while exciting things were happening. Harry took both hands and positioned Ganwydyn Avalon as a cross pointing down in the basin, then slid her down into the water until her cross-guard rested on the bottom. Light flared through the basin as she settled, then subsided.

“All right then, what about –” Harry asked, and Neville handed the Sword of Gryffindor back.

“Either the Gryffindor vault or back to the school,” Neville said. The sword sparkled harder then dimmed, and Harry met Neville’s eyes.

“The vault,” they said simultaneously, and the Sword of Gryffindor flashed away.

“Okay,” Harry said. “What’s next?”

There was more climbing and Neville was getting tired of rock, but they managed to get to the place where they could enter the Department of Mysteries unseen. They had to stop there to wait for the warders, and Neville tried to fidget enough to stop himself from yawning with imperfect success.

Finally they were able to enter through another maintenance access and a smaller group followed the lead warder to the veil. Neville shivered as he saw it, then glanced to Harry who was facing it grimly.

“Let’s get this over with,” Harry said, holding out his hand for the first horcrux. Voktar handed him the first one and Harry stepped forward only to have Neville grab the back of his shirt.

“Not so close!” Neville protested. Harry’s brows went up as he looked at his friend. “You can throw it from here,” Neville insisted. If anyone had thought of it, they could have asked for round crystals to hold the horcruxes to make throwing them easier, although Harry would still have had to throw the diary which no one cared to save.

Harry shrugged, and threw the first horcrux through the veil, then methodically sent each of the rest of them through one at a time.

“I hope that’s the last of him,” Harry muttered before turning his back to the veil.

“Other than the wraith,” Neville pointed out.

Harry sighed. “I think it’s time for me to go.”

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