Reading Time: 123 Minutes

Title: The Beginning of the End
Series: If Only
Series Order: 1
Author: Aussiefan70
Fandom: Harry Potter
Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort
Relationship(s): Gen
Content Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence-Against Children
Author Note:
Beta: Geminiangel
Word Count: 111,718
Summary: In which Harry learns he’s a wizard, wizards really know nothing about goblins, it’s okay to grow a new family if your relatives are terrible, having friends (and Snowy Owls) is amazing, and Headmasters aren’t always to be trusted. Also that Hogwarts, flying and learning magic are wonderful, but dark lords? Not so much.
Artist: Spuddoc

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Chapter 13

Several hours after the departure of the Mirror of Erised, Amelia, Kingsley and Gawain handed over custody of the Cerberus to the keepers from the reserve in Greece. Hagrid had spent most of the time they’d been waiting bemoaning the loss of the animal, turning several tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs into sopping wet rags.

But fortunately, the Head Keeper of the reserve, Alaskos Bariades, took to the half-Giant and listened patiently to all the tips he ” jus’ had ter know” about Fluffy. Nor did he show any signs of disdain over the Cerberus’ rather unconventional name. Instead, he went as far as to invite Hagrid to visit over the summer, perhaps even volunteer with some of the other creatures the Reserve was known for, and promised to send regular updates on how Fluffy was settling in.

When Hagrid returned to his hut (“I know yeh’ll take care o’ him, but I can’ bear ter watch him go”), Amelia offered her heartfelt thanks for how well he’d managed the handover. Alaskos gave a courtly bow, kissed the back of Amelia’s hand, and commented she would also be very welcome to visit at any time. Amelia was almost recovered from her blush by the time the chuckles of her Aurors had settled down, though the fixed glare through the monocle helped facilitate that as well.

Now that the castle was cleared of potential death traps related to the Philosopher’s Stone, Amelia signalled for the Gringotts team to start their indoor survey as well. Knowing it would take several more hours for the preliminary survey of the grounds and the castle to be completed, the three Ministry employees strolled down to Hogsmeade, to the Three Broomsticks Inn. They were greeted merrily by Madam Rosmerta, who showed them upstairs to one of her private rooms with alacrity.

It was after 2:00 pm at this point, so it took little time for Rosmerta to bring drinks (sadly nothing stronger than Butterbeer, seeing as they were still on duty), along with three servings of steak and kidney pie with veg. Leaving work aside for the moment the three Aurors (for indeed, that was where Amelia got her start in the DMLE) tucked into their hearty lunches, with Kingsley and Gawain commenting they really should Floo over more often for lunch, given how much better the food was than in the Ministry cafeteria.

Once done with their meals, Amelia put up her strongest privacy wards again and they considered the events of the morning.

“I don’t know the circumstances of why Flamel entrusted Dumbledore with the Stone, but if it was for added protection, what we saw today was sadly inadequate,” commented Kingsley.

“I’d agree. Anyone who was third year or above would have found the tasks pretty easy. I could see a very smart and adventurous second or first year managing those challenges as well, though probably ending up a little more beaten up than an older student.” Gawain was clearly not impressed either.

“I’ll be contacting the Flamels this evening. They’ve been living in Devon for a few years now, so it won’t take much to Floo over. I wonder what cock-and-bull story Dumbledore told them, to get them to hand the Stone over to him. Merlin knows we’re unlikely to get the real purpose of the whole set-up from him,” Amelia asserted.

“So what do you really think is going on here, Amelia? I know it had to be you that set Gringotts onto the place as well.” Kingsley Shacklebolt could get away with asking those sorts of questions; they’d been partners in the Aurors for ten years before she’d started to work her way up the ladder. Gawain Robards was also in their confidence, having been the first Auror trainee they’d ever taken on.

“Let’s just say there are certain parties who think it’s no coincidence that all this happened the year Harry Potter starts at Hogwarts. And there’s good reason to think that a certain evil bastard isn’t really dead, after all. I’d suggest if you spend any time around our Chief Warlock, it wouldn’t hurt to brush up on your Occlumency skills either.”

That was all that Amelia dared say so openly. Dumbledore wasn’t the only skilled Legilimens in Wizarding Britain, and she didn’t dare put Harry at further risk.

Recognising that Amelia had been as open as she possibly could, Kingsley steered the conversation to more benign topics, and a peaceful hour or so was spent on Ministry gossip and easy conversation. Gawain practically rolled on the floor on hearing the nickname Fold-a-dork that the kids had come up with. They’d been using Amelia’s moniker for Voldemort of THI (the Hyphenated Idiot) for a few years now, and a new handle was quite the welcome change.

At a quarter to four, there was a knock at the door. The Gringotts team was done for the day, and were there to share their findings.

Ambrosius Farnham was the most senior wizarding Warder employed by the bank, and in a sign of the seriousness of Ragnok’s concerns, he’d also authorised the chief Guduriak Warder to work on-site as well. Corback was well known for avoiding interactions with wizardkind where possible, which amply demonstrated just how concerned the Buruzagi was. The pair had ordered sandwiches and drinks at the bar, having worked through lunch, and Rosmerta delivered their meals a few minutes later.

Farnham began the report, as he ploughed his way through a large plate of toasted sandwiches.

“The wards are in bloody awful shape,” he announced bluntly. “Though seeing as it’s nigh on twenty years since Dumbledore let Gringotts Warders onsite, we can’t tell you how much is from neglect and how much is from people tinkering with the wards. Thinks he’s smarter than the Founders I suppose, given that’s who signed the contract to maintain the wards in perpetuity. And that’s just the external wards I’m talking about. The ones inside the castle seem in worse shape still, but we need more time tomorrow to figure them out.”

Corback took over the narrative. “The main outer wards ringing the grounds are at about fifty percent strength. We can shore those up with a ring of temporary warding stones buried below the ground tomorrow, but they’ll need a complete re-laying once the school empties out for the summer. We will need the castle empty of all but the house-elves for a week to ten days to restore them properly.”

The two Aurors were shocked that it was so bad, though Amelia wasn’t terribly surprised.

“The ward line between the Forbidden Forest and the grounds might as well be non-existent for all the protection it provides. The barrier against dangerous creatures entering has been shredded, I suspect deliberately,” Corback continued. “Anything more threatening than a hippogriff should need to be allowed through the special corridor that only the Deputy Head or Headmaster can control. The corridor is entirely unprotected at this time, and was the route used to get the Troll into the castle on Halloween, we suspect.”

Amelia groaned inwardly at that news; it was worse than even she expected. “There’s more, I can tell.”

Ambrosius replied, “You’d be correct. The protections over the Black Lake, to prevent accidental or deliberate drowning, either through attack or suicide, are gone. As are the safety wards over the Quidditch pitches, so there are likely higher numbers of Quidditch injuries than there should be. We know the spells cannot eliminate all risks to the game, but they are meant to minimise severe injury. And the alerting system, to hostile spells being cast on the grounds, is gone as well.”

“This means that someone has been messing with the castle’s central ward stone. Again, we cannot determine if the intent was to deliberately weaken the security of Hogwarts or just the hubris of someone thinking they knew better than Gringotts Warders. We haven’t gotten as far as the wardstone yet, as we need to assess all the components of the wards first, in order to create a plan to repair and bolster the warding system overall,” Corback concluded.

Gawain Robards simply shook his head in horror at the news. “I have to say, I’m glad my oldest doesn’t start at the school until next year. Though I’m betting my wife would want to talk about my daughter going to Beauxbatons or one of the American schools, if I wasn’t bound by secrecy not to tell her about this.”

Amelia agreed with the sentiment. “I should have checked more before sending my niece here. But who would ever expect that things could be this bad?”

“Aye,” agreed Ambrosius, “And it’s likely to appear even worse by this time tomorrow. We’ll put back in whatever protections we can before we’re done, but a complete warding overhaul is going to be essential. Can you force the Headmaster to allow us to do that, is the next question?”

“Augusta Longbottom is threatening to take these results first to the Board of Governors, and then to the Prophet and the international press. I think it’s safe to say that the permissions will be forthcoming.” Amelia chuckled a little as the four men around the table cringed. Few were brave enough to cross Augusta when she was ticked off, and on a crusade.

“That’ll do it alright, I should think. My father once described her as a sentient battering ram, when he saw her deal with the Wizengamot over a matter of security after the last war. He commented how glad he was to be on her side of the argument at the time.” Kingsley’s face held a wry smile after sharing those thoughts.

“Filius has offered me the use of his office and Floo tomorrow, so I can keep on top of my regular work, seeing as he’ll be at Stonehenge all day.” Amelia ignored Gawain’s muttered comment of “The lucky bloke”, and continued, “I want to be on hand to help deal with whatever the rest of the survey reveals, in case it’s something even more serious.”

Shacklebolt glanced at Robards, who quickly nodded in agreement. “I expect the two of us could work on our backlog of reports just as easily from here, as at the Ministry. If you felt that a bit of extra backup might be warranted, ma’am.” Kingsley was letting Amelia know they had her back, no matter what was found the next day.

She smiled at the Aurors and said, “Thanks, my friends. Let’s meet at the Ministry at 8:00, then we can all Floo in together; Filius has given me his password.”

Corback and Farnham planned to gather their team at the same time and come in via the Charms Master’s Floo as well. They offered their farewells and returned to the bank. Buruzagi Ragnok would be most interested in their findings.

~0~0~

The following day was nearly as busy as the one previous, though without the charm of a Cerberus or Troll. Almost all of the staff had taken advantage of the second student-free day and were off on their own pursuits outside the castle.

Minerva McGonagall had elected to stay around for the day, to be available for any questions, and truthfully, to make sure she didn’t miss a single aspect of all the warding deficits, better to berate Albus with later. Amelia was very cognisant of this motivation, and silently applauded it, so she accepted the Gryffindor Head’s invitation to share office space, and decamped there, leaving the Aurors to work in Filius’ office.

The first disturbing report came in from the team working on strengthening the boundary with the Forbidden Forest. A conversation with a curious Centaur from the herd revealed an evil presence that appeared to be hunting down the unicorns. Combined with the abstruse warning that the heavens were disturbed, the Warders felt they had been put on notice. Farnham and Corback called for a brief meeting with Amelia, Minerva and the Aurors. Shacklebolt suggested that an alarm be put on the boundary wards for any sign of unicorn blood. This would at least alert the ward holders that whatever was harming the unicorns had access to the castle.

Most of the rest of the external warding went uneventfully from there. Sadly it wasn’t the same for the internal evaluation of the castle’s protections, which showed so many deficits that the Gringotts, Ministry and Hogwarts representatives despaired of them being repaired enough to permit the safe return of the students.

“Do what you can to protect the children, gentleman,” Minerva said, then reminded them. “They’ve been attending here with the wards in this state for who knows how long, and we’ve been keeping them alive, likely only by the Founders’ good wishes. We’ll hobble our way along as usual through the last term, bolstered by whatever other protections you can give us.”

Heartened by her words, Corback and Ambrosius returned to the fray. Protections that alerted staff to spell-fire in the hallways were strengthened, as were the safety protocols in the DADA, Charms and Transfiguration classrooms, where active spell work happened frequently. The Gringotts team was pleased to note robust wards in the Potions classroom and labs, obviously not part of the original warding scheme, but likely the creations of Professor Snape.

Minerva was rather proud of her colleague on hearing the news and wondered why she’d never bothered to check her own classroom. She mentioned this to Amelia, who was likewise concerned, and immediately scanned her for compulsions to ignore safety hazards. What Amelia found was almost more terrifying, as the compulsion she identified drove Minerva to trust that the Headmaster knew best in all aspects of caring for the students.

“That fecking bastart! Ah will murdurr him masell fur this!” The normally repressed Scottish accent came through loud and clear, as McGonagall paced in anger and frustration.

Amelia cast the spell to remove the compulsion, then caught the Deputy Headmistress in her arms as she almost crumpled to the floor. Helping the older woman into her chair, she was not surprised to hear Minerva ask, “Just how long has that abomination been controlling me?”

“By the fact that you halfway collapsed just a moment ago? I’d say it’s been many years. Probably back to when Harry and Neville’s parents were here, if not longer.”

Minerva covered her mouth with her hand, as though fighting the urge to retch. “So long! That would explain how much I let those four boys get away with. They tormented Severus for years, and others to a lesser extent, and Albus just kept saying it was schoolboy high spirits. How could I not think to get checked?”

Amelia replied gently, “Because it was built into the trust element of the compulsion that you’d do no such thing. I’m assuming you’re talking about Potter, Black and their friends?”

“Lupin and Pettigrew were mostly just too weak to stand up to the other two when they became too cruel. But there were times when Potter and Black should have been suspended. Indeed, one time, Mr Black’s actions would have warranted expulsion. But I let Albus talk me into detention. Poor Severus, no wonder he became so angry. He gave almost as good as he got, but that time Black crossed an unforgivable line.”

Amelia knew there was a story there, likely one the Aurors should have heard about, but there was no purpose to it now. Black was in Azkaban, which seemed fitting from the few clues Minerva had given her.

Showing she was a witch of uncommon strength, Minerva pulled herself back together. “We need to check the rest of the staff. But it has to be done discreetly. Albus must not find out, or he’ll just replace the compulsions, or come up with something harder to detect.”

“Let me think about this. You’re right on both counts, we just have to figure out the safest way to check. Perhaps the Warding team has something that can be set up to negate such compulsions. We’ll ask next time they make a report.”

That opportunity came twenty minutes later when an aggrieved pair of senior Warders showed up.

“We cannot access the ward stone. The entrances have been keyed to Dumbledore’s magical signature. We are going to have to ramp up the protections the hard way, likely corridor by corridor, by installing rune plaques again. We’ll need to expand the team, bring in every Warder we have available, if we may have your permission to bring others to the Castle, Professor McGonagall?” Ambrosius asked.

“Granted, Mr Farnham, Mr Corback. Would it help to have the house-elves show you the most commonly used areas of the castle as a priority? I’d think we need to protect each House, the classrooms and hallways for access, as well as the Great Hall and stairs. But the elves know more than we do about where the students spend their free time. Also, we have discovered another problem.” Minerva explained the compulsion issue and asked for suggestions.

Corback responded, “The two areas you mostly congregate would be the staff room and the High Table in the Great Hall, correct?” Minerva nodded. “Is there any teacher who rarely attends either?”

McGonagall thought for a moment, “Only Professor Trelawney. She hardly leaves the tower where her quarters and Divination classes are held.”

“Ah that will be easy then, we will set up a compulsion ‘buster’ as the young Warders like to call it, in the divination classroom. That should take care of that. We’ll do the same for the staff room and High Table,” Ambrosius answered confidently. “Now may I borrow your Floo to call in reinforcements?”

Fifteen minutes later a long stream of Guduriak, witch and wizard Warders arrived through McGonagall’s Floo, and were led to the nearest classroom to join the original team members. In short order, they were broken into twenty-five teams of two, each partnered with a house-elf, and given a list of sites that needed to be protected.

It was a cumbersome way to get the job done, but the vast numbers would provide sufficient protections to the students for the next term, until the entire wards could be properly reworked. Shacklebolt and Robards, having caught up with their backlog of reports, tagged along with one of the teams, fascinated to see the experts at work.

By 3 pm, the key locations had protections in place, and most of the Warding team departed via Floo again. Two smaller teams were finishing up, though McGonagall would only hear about one of them, not being part of the secret regarding the Horcruxes. Although after the events of the day, Amelia Bones was going to propose that she be included; they needed additional eyes in the school, particularly given Minerva worked so closely with the Headmaster.

Ambrosius gave his report to the two witches and the Aurors. “I can confirm there is a curse on the Defence Against Dark Arts position. We brought in several Curse-Breakers with the Warding teams, and they were able to detect the presence of the dark magic required to curse the position. But the signature of the curse has been deliberately obfuscated, so we could not pin down the location. The Curse-Breakers feel that with more time over the summer, they will be able to eliminate that blight on the DADA position, which should be a great relief to you all.”

“Indeed Mr Farnham. I fear Albus is nearing the point of scraping the bottom of the barrel when it comes to locating new instructors. Perhaps we might even bring back one of the better teachers if we can remove the curse.”

Corback spoke bluntly, “Sadly, it could probably have been done many years ago if Dumbledore had not placed you (and I suspect most of the other professors) under that compulsion. But the past cannot be altered and it does us no good to worry about that now. Farnham, it is time to return to Gringotts. I am sure Buruzagi Ragnok is eager for our report.”

“Indeed. Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for your assistance today. We will see each other again once the summer break begins.” Ambrosius Farnham gave a courtly bow and followed his colleague through the Floo.

Minerva sent a Patronus to Professor Flitwick, giving the students the all-clear to return. Turning to Amelia, Kingsley and Gawain, she said, “I could do with a proper drink after all that. Would you care to join me?” Eager assent from all three followed, and they headed through Minerva’s office to her private quarters, where she broke out her good whiskey, and poured it with a very generous hand.

~0~0~

Several drinks later, a mostly steady Amelia Bones Floo’ed back to her home. A mirror-box conference call was scheduled for 8 pm, after the hubbub of the day had died down, to discuss the findings at Hogwarts. But first, she checked the safe in her study. She’d stashed the Philosopher’s Stone there, not entirely trusting the security of the Ministry, and sent off an owl to the Flamels with a fairly cryptic message the day before.

Satisfied that her security precautions were holding, Amelia turned to her mail, while sipping from a mug of rich creamy soup, and nibbling on the sandwiches her attentive house-elf had supplied for her.

One letter caught her eye, wax-sealed as it was with the imprint of a signet ring. The alchemical sign for the Philosopher’s Stone overlaid with an ornate letter ‘F’, left little doubt as to its author.

It read,

Dear Madam Bones,

We are most intrigued to find our prize creation has made its way into your hands. We would like to extend an invitation for you to visit us at your earliest convenience. If you would write the time and date at the bottom of this letter, and add the imprint of your seal of office, it will relay that information to us immediately. We have opened a secure connection for you to the Floo here in our home (Floo address: Will-o’-the-wisp Cottage, Devon) with the password ‘Bowtruckle’.

Many thanks for your assistance,

Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel

“Curious,” Amelia said to herself. “They weren’t expecting the Stone to end up in my hands at all. And they’re decidedly anxious for its return. Still, if they are relying on it to produce the Elixir of Life, they are seriously dependent on getting it back. It’s too late now, I’ll go there first thing tomorrow morning.”

With that decision made, she wrote 9 am on the parchment, added her DMLE Head seal, and watched the parchment disappear from her desk the next second. Stretching as she stood, Amelia strode over to the fireplace and made a Floo call to her assistant, Olivia. She’d be out for the morning at an appointment and would notify the woman if she’d be delayed further. Key chores done, she returned to her desk and idly sorted through the rest of her mail as she finished her soup and sandwiches.

The mirror-box call later went much as Amelia had expected. The others were shocked, but in retrospect, not surprised to hear the news of the compulsion on McGonagall, and agreed with the strategy to clear the other staff.

Firelock added, “I will call in Filius to be checked tomorrow. It would be interesting to see if the old goat tried in on one of our people.” Filius might only be half Guduriak genetically speaking, but in the eyes of Ragnok and Firelock, he was fully family.

Soraya chimed in, “As a Warder, I feel a bit left out to have missed all the excitement at Hogwarts the last two days, though I had a wonderful time with Harry, Susan and Neville. And you should have seen the faces of the other students when they realised he could speak to the dragons yesterday. That’ll be entirely around the school before the Hogwarts Express leaves Kings Cross at the end of next week.”

Augusta chuckled. “I suspect the owls started flying last night. Neville could speak of little else when he returned home. And yes, the Hogwarts rumour mill is extremely…robust.” Ragnok joined in the conversation, in time to hear her words and could be seen to be smirking over Augusta’s observation, as the Enklabe was no better gossip-wise.

The older witch continued, “With the news that Dumbledore is willing to place compulsions on the staff, and the likelihood Harry will be subject to more gossip than usual, I think it would be a good move to provide the other children more support at Hogwarts. I know Filius is party to some of what we discuss, but I would feel safer if we included both Minerva and Filius in all of our discussions. That way Susan, Neville and Harry know there’s always someone there who can help in person.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Soraya agreed and was echoed in those sentiments by Amelia as well.

“Firelock and I were discussing a similar concern this morning,” responded Ragnok, “when we had to send such a big team through to shore up the protections at the school. So, I will approach Filius to join our group when he comes in to be checked for compulsions. Amelia or Augusta, would one of you discuss things with Professor McGonagall?”

“I have a meeting with the Flamels tomorrow, to return the Stone and investigate how it came to be at Hogwarts. Augusta, would you mind talking with Minerva?” Amelia replied.

“It would be my pleasure,” answered Augusta. “I’ll invite her for afternoon tea. Ragnok, can you send me another mirror-box for her?”

Ragnok nodded his agreement and closed the meeting, rather pleased with the outcome of the last two days overall. Particularly when it came to finally being able to sort out Dumbledore and all his manipulations.

~0~0~

Amelia’s meeting with the Flamels went well the next morning. They were thrilled to have the Stone safely back in their hands. Dumbledore had made it sound like there was a threat of an attack on their home, to steal the Stone, and had implied Voldemort’s followers were behind it.

He’d promised the Stone would be placed in the most secure part of Hogwarts until the threat could be eliminated but then had been extremely cagey since, on progress towards that goal. The couple were utterly incensed that he’d used it as a lure instead, and installed the most minimal protections.

Upon hearing of the amateur level of security the Headmaster had set up, the very perceptive Perenelle had asked whether he was deliberately trying to lure students into a treasure hunt of sorts as well.

Nicolas, as perspicacious as his wife, commented, “Harry Potter started at Hogwarts this year, didn’t he?” Turning to Perenelle, he stated, “I suspect Albus, who can only be considered a former friend and student of ours now, has plans to force the boy into a fight of his own creation. We must watch out for the boy. my dear.”

Perenelle patted his hand in agreement and turned back to Amelia, “I think to publicly disavow Albus would be to tip our hand that we suspect he’s plotting something, likely related to young Mr Potter and Voldemort. We will keep our counsel for now, I think. But if we may be of the least bit of assistance to you or your Guduriak friends, please don’t hesitate to ask. Meanwhile, I think the Stone will be returning to Gringotts, to a high-security vault this time.”

Amelia was stunned to hear that the Flamels knew of her connections with the group Ragnok had formed.

Perenelle’s smile was comforting. “Don’t worry my dear, it’s just that Ragnok is a dear friend and he shared some worries for the boy with us when he came for afternoon tea last week. That boy does love my scones.”

At that, Amelia could do little but shut up and enjoy her tea and scones. And very fine scones they were indeed. She wondered if Perenelle would share her recipe.

~0~0~

While Amelia was reuniting the Flamels with their precious Stone, Ragnok was meeting with his senior Curse-Breakers, Giles Huntley and Darksteel. It had been fortunate, in a way, that the Warding team had confirmed the presence of the DADA curse at Hogwarts because it had given them a legitimate reason for being in the castle.

Ragnok recalled the report he’d received from the Curse-Breaking Department early into the Horcrux hunt. It was the key to finding these abominations, but the process simply could not be hurried.

The Horcrux can be identified in two ways. The magical signature of its creator is unique. Its presence points to one single witch or wizard alone. Even identical twins show enough differences to tell them apart. Because Gringotts records blood identity as well as magical signatures when creating a client’s accounts, the signatures can be checked against the database of all clients. It will be slow and painstaking work, but it is infallible once matched.

The second means of identification is the soul energy of the Horcrux. All living, sentient creatures have soul energy, but the act of making a Horcrux subtly transmutes the energetic signature, making it stand out from the background, despite the inconspicuous changes. It can be likened to a group of Gryffindors in red jumpers standing together, and one jumper has faded a little. To the eye, it will be glaring in its difference. The trick then, is to devise a means of scanning for that difference only, as a means to locate the Horcrux.

~0~0~

Since the Christmas break, the Curse-Breaking department at Gringotts had put every spare moment into trying to detach Voldemort’s magical signature from the energetic signature of the soul fragment itself. It was an entirely novel strategy, given the rarity of a Horcrux creation, requiring slow and meticulous work. But they’d made significant progress and were ready to send the magical signature to the account supervisors. The search would be rather like looking for a needle in a haystack because they’d also be searching back through former client records for the last half century or so as well, but needs must.

Knowing that Voldemort was an assumed name, the hope was that identifying the wizard who’d given rise to the abomination they’d removed from Harry’s scar would help them to locate objects that held special meaning to Fold-a-dork. The team was hoping that would lead them to the vessels for the additional Horcruxes.

The Curse-Breaking team had been a bit more successful in the second part of the task. They’d finally managed to detach the soul energy and had been working on creating scrying and scanning devices to help with the search. These gadgets were barely in their infancy at the moment, but it was hoped that they’d eventually be able to do regional scrying searches of Britain, in order to triangulate the approximate locations of the energy spikes of the Horcruxes.

The scanning device would be key to success with searches, as it was hoped the gadget would eventually have enough specificity to isolate specific locations for the Horcruxes. Currently, the scanning devices couldn’t work in areas much larger than a single room, but it was hoped they’d be able to expand that to search several square kilometres or more, at a time. Combining triangulation to gain a general location, along with the ability to then scan to isolate a specific location seemed the sensible approach to the high-level team that had been assembled.

And the team was able to report some success. The scanning ‘Doohickey’, as the Canadian Giles Huntley had named it, had been able to isolate the soul fragment energy to a seventh-floor left-sided corridor during the Hogwarts search over Easter break. That corridor ended in a dead end, with only a window over the grounds to make it worth traversing, and the only other feature of note was a large tapestry of some crazy fellow trying to teach trolls to dance in ballet shoes, opposite a long blank wall.

The ‘Doohickey’ (Ragnok groaned inwardly, knowing the scanning tool would inevitably carry this label forever) had indicated the presence of a likely Horcrux in the corridor, but the searches had yielded no glamoured hiding places or warded nooks. If Darksteel had to guess, it seemed as though the Horcrux had been fully bricked in behind one of the walls. The issue was, it was unlikely that Voldemort had been able to carry out major masonry work in the castle with no one noticing, so how had he managed to hide the Horcrux so effectively?

Filius Flitwick had been brought into the fold early that morning, having been invited to Floo directly into Ragnok’s office. He’d taken the news that McGonagall had been under a hefty compulsion spell quite calmly. The fact he was also under a compulsion to trust his wizard side more than his Guduriak roots went down far less well.

The only thing that had stopped him from storming the ICW meeting in Rome and challenging Dumbledore to a duel, had been the news he’d managed to almost completely throw the spell off. Firelock, who’d been watching the proceedings, suspected that the regular contact (and to a degree, mentoring) with one Mr Harry Potter, who’d essentially been made one of the clan, had played a large part in breaking the spell’s hold.

But having Filius there was a major boon to the search for the Gringotts Horcrux. He Floo’ed back into his quarters, keeping the fireplace open with Floo powder, which allowed those in Ragnok’s office to listen in on his subsequent conversation.

“Netty,” he called, requesting the presence of the house-elf that had seemed to adopt him, and took care of his rooms and office.

The tiny creature popped in, dressed neatly in her Hogwarts uniform as always.

“What can Netty be doing for Professor Flitty this morning?”

“Netty, the Curse-Breakers that were here yesterday found the possible location of a very Dark object on the seventh floor. It was in a dead-end hallway though, and the signature of the object seemed to be hidden behind a solid wall. Do you know where I’m talking about?”

“Professor Flitty is talking about the dancing trolls’ place. Netty is knowing where that is. Is you and your friends beyond the fire wanting to be visiting the ‘Come and Go’ Room then?”

Filius accepted the gentle reminder that you can never easily fool a house-elf. “Tell us more about this room,” he asked, gesturing for the Curse-Breakers to come through the Floo. He was a little surprised when Ragnok and Firelock followed, but then he thought he shouldn’t be. The pair always hated to see a mystery go unsolved.

“It is being a room that changes to whatever you is needing, which is why we is saying it comes and goes. For us house-elves, we is using it to store all the things that is lost or broken or is not wanted any more. I has heard others calling it the ‘Room of Hidden Things’. Mistress Hogwarts is calling it the ‘Room of Requirement.” Netty bobbed a short bow, indicating she’d imparted what she knew of the space.

“Would you mind showing us the room and letting us in Netty? We wish to remove this Dark and dangerous object, and ensure it is disposed of safely.” Buruzagi Ragnok infused the gravitas of his office into the request.

“Netty is not being sure. Is thinking we should ask Professor Kitty for permission.” Netty paused for a moment, head tipped to the side a little as if listening intently. “Mistress Hogwarts knows of this Darkest thing and wants you to be promising it will be destroyed if she is letting you takes it.”

Ragnok solemnly addressed Netty and by extension the suddenly sentient Hogwarts. “I swear on my honour as Buruzagi of the British clan of the Gobelako Guduriak, that we will remove the Dark object from here, and will work diligently until we can excise the soul fragment, and destroy that fragment. Furthermore, we will work to locate and destroy any other soul fragments of the Dark wizard known as Voldemort, so that he may never return to cause harm to any magical beings. Will you both accept my oath?”

Netty nervously accepted, placing her hand over Ragnok’s heart, to acknowledge the vow. Hogwarts responded rather uniquely, by sending a warm breeze over the group, with the huff of air seeming to say, “I accept your oath, Buruzagi.”

Netty led the group to the seventh floor and explained the entry process to the room.

“You is to be pacing back and forth in front of the dancing trolls. As you is walking, you is needing to be thinking hard and saying in your head what you is wanting the room to be,” Netty explained.

“So I would ask for the room to show me the room where Voldemort’s soul fragment is hidden? Is it really as simple as that?” asked Huntley.

“You wizards is always making things much harder than they is needing to be,” replied Netty somewhat acerbically.

Feeling a bit like he’d just been scolded by his grandmother, Giles Huntley then did exactly as he’d said. They were all shocked to see a large wooden door form out of the solid wall across from the tapestry, and it opened to the lightest of touches.

Inside was a veritable junk room of broken furniture, lost books and brooms, furnishings that had gone out of date and been replaced, and all manner of items both useless and useful.

“Ah, now comes the challenge. To find one object in all this mess.” Giles pulled out the Doohickey and attempted to get it to target a search area, but to no avail. It just wasn’t powerful enough yet to achieve that goal.

Netty huffed. “Are you sure you is magical beings? Professor Flitty, has you forgotten all the Charms spells you is knowing?”

Filius shook his head in bemusement. A Summoning charm was worth a try. He pulled out his wand and went to cast the spell when Darksteel laid a hand on his casting arm.

“We need a containment vessel; we can’t risk touching the object.” Darksteel transfigured a dented discarded roasting pan into a lead liner for a beaten-up trunk he’d found at the side of the room.

“Filius, if you will summon the object containing Voldemort’s soul fragment…please use those words exactly…then I will direct it into the trunk. Under no circumstances must anyone touch the object that has been made into a Horcrux!”

In the end, it was a simple process to capture the Horcrux, with everyone standing clear except for Filius and Darksteel. The Summoning charm worked exactly as planned and the Senior Curse-Breaker took good care to ensure the Horcrux was secured in the trunk.

A short time later, Netty was dismissed back to her duties with the profound thanks of the Buruzagi, and the rest of the group returned to Ragnok’s office at Gringotts. They took a moment to open the trunk, the Horcrux contained by an immensely strong shielding spell.

Giving the item a long hard look, the circlet of silver bedecked with a blue sapphire. Filius appeared shocked when he finally got a closer view.

“I know what this is!” he cried out. “It’s the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. If you put it on, you will be granted great wisdom, according to the legend. Oh, sasiko ustel zikin hori (that filthy rotten bastard), to defile such a treasure in such a manner.”

“Blacksteel, Huntley…can the Horcrux be separated from the diadem, so this artefact can be preserved?” Firelock hoped that would be possible; after all, they’d detached the soul shard from Harry’s scar.

“We do not know. The ritual Swifthorn used was designed for living creatures. We will have to research the topic deeply before any attempt will be made. The last thing we need is a fragment of Voldemort rampaging through the halls of Gringotts at will,” was Darksteel’s solemn pronouncement.

“I have great faith in you both, and your team. Please proceed with caution and keep us apprised of your progress.” With Ragnok’s words, it was obvious the meeting was concluded; the Gringotts staff returned to their duties, while Filius Floo’ed back to Hogwarts.

Chapter 14

The rest of the Easter holidays passed quickly, with Neville and Susan often joining Harry (and sometimes Soraya) on visits to the Enklabe. The two boys were now very familiar with all four regions and happily moved between each with the assistance of Grinlast and Ringstar. Grinlast was especially proud to take his friends around, having received final approval from his teachers to assist his friends with intent-travelling just the day before the Hogwarts Express returned to London.

Firelock had sought permission from the Elders to begin teaching the three young people the rudiments of intent-travel. As was the way with Guduriak youngsters, they were taught to refine their intent, to narrow their focus on their knowledge of different places in the Enklabe, and how to lend their energy to the person transporting them.

It wasn’t entirely unprecedented for witches and wizards to be taught this unique form of travel. But it was rare enough for the three children and their mentor to be highly pleased by the honour. It also reflected just how accepted Harry was within the Enklabe, and not simply because of his protected client status with the bank. Because of Harry’s genuine ability to connect with others, in ways almost the entirety of wizardkind would refuse to consider, he’d become a welcome member of the clan. And thus his friends, who also showed great respect, were welcomed right along with him.

The Harry and Co group also got together for lunch at the Leprechaun and Grim pub on Gastronomic Alley early in the second week of break. They followed their long and chatty lunch with a foray into London, hopping on the Underground, and heading to the nearest good-sized supermarket. The ride was somewhere between fascinating and frightening to the magically raised students. They’d only ever gone underground and ridden the carts to family vaults at Gringotts as a rule. But never when surrounded by such large numbers of people, many of whom had no concept of personal space (at least as magicals judged it).

At Tesco, the pre-teens all went a little crazy. They stocked up heavily on stationery supplies as they now had stashes for other students to try, in every House but Slytherin. Students were encouraged to donate funds to restock the stashes each holiday break, but nobody was refused because they couldn’t afford it. Most of the students (especially the older years) who’d switched from quills and parchment for note-taking in class had noticed that studying for tests, or even compiling the information for essay writing, had become easier, largely thanks to increased legibility and writing speed.

But it wasn’t only school supplies the kids were after. Given it was right after the holiday, all the Easter chocolate and treats were on sale, and they happily stocked up. They’d all learned the joys of sitting with friends from both within and outside the group, and taste-testing their way through magical and Muggle sweets. There was also a raiding party on the chips and snacks aisle, along with the drinks aisle to grab bottles of squash as a change from pumpkin juice at meals in the Great Hall. Most of the group who’d been raised in the Muggle world was thoroughly sick of the single drink option by this time. The girls also pillaged the aisle with hair clips and hair bands, for the days they didn’t want to have to mess with haircare charms.

Watching the group easily negotiate getting back on the Tube, even though laden with tonnes of bags, and chattering like monkeys at the zoo, Soraya was thrilled to see Harry so happy and surrounded by good friends. It had been a good day out and the surprise final stop at Fortescue’s would provide the literal cherry on top of a fun day with friends.

~0~0~

Things changed considerably the next morning, when Soraya took the Daily Prophet from the delivery owl, popping the knuts into the pouch tied to one leg, and opened it to a surprising headline.

“Boy-Who-Lived is a Dragon Speaker!” and in smaller letters below, “What other talents is he hiding from the wizarding public?” The byline was one Rita Skeeter, and Soraya scoffed. The reporter was well-known as a troublemaker who maintained only the loosest relationship to the truth in her articles. The tenor of the article was very much aimed at stirring the public to ask why the Saviour-of-the-Wizarding-World wasn’t a hugely public figure, to be constantly at the mercy of his adoring fans.

The accompanying photograph of Harry chatting almost nose to nose with one of the adolescent dragons, while incredibly cute, could only have been taken by one of the Reserve employees, a fellow student or a chaperone, which was quite a betrayal of the young man.

Unfortunately, it also clearly showed Harry wasn’t the glasses-wearing boy with a hugely visible scar on his forehead that most seemed to expect. Harry’s anonymity, which had allowed him to hang around with friends in Diagon Alley and other wizarding places, was gone.

Glad that Harry was sleeping in for a change, Soraya pulled out her mirror-box and sent out an urgent alert to the group at large, requesting an immediate discussion despite the fact it wasn’t quite 7 am. Ragnok and Firelock appeared together nigh on instantly, both clearly incensed by the invasion of Harry’s privacy. Amelia was next to join in, along with Filius. Minerva and Augusta were unfortunately otherwise occupied it seemed, and would have to be filled in later.

Amelia took the lead. “Yes, we’re all angry enough to explode, that Skeeter did this without even the courtesy of letting Harry’s guardians know. However, nothing in this article offers any pathways for legal recourse. Unfortunately. So let’s prioritise what the issues are ahead of us. Call them out people, I’m taking notes.” At which she grabbed a notebook and ink pen, ready to play the scribe.

Firelock spoke up. “Harry’s not going to have the same freedom to wander the Alleys as before. He has two glamours available on his watch, and he’s going to have to use them, for safety’s sake, if he walks about alone.”

Augusta popped into view. “Discussing the risks to Harry now? As I see it, plenty of people have seen him out and about with this group of friends. When he disappears and a ‘new boy’ shows up, people are going to realise it’s a glamoured Harry. He’s not going to get away with any form of disguise, so we’ll likely need two or three adults for every get-together.”

“Soraya, a lot of that will fall on you. We can free up Mr Leggett to help out as well, and perhaps one or two other of our human employees would be willing to get a day out of the office occasionally. We could also use some of our security staff, glamoured to look like wizards, but the guards would be impeded by not being able to carry a wand. And if it came down to defending Harry with magic, they could face a Wizengamot trial if a witch or wizard is harmed.” Ragnok found himself in that uncomfortable location known as being between a rock and a hard place.

“I’d be happy to act as a chaperone, on school breaks. I’ve been teaching long enough that it rarely takes me long to finish up the end-of-term marking. Nor do I need an exorbitant amount of preparation time before the start of each term. And I’m sure the furore will die down eventually, which will hopefully give Harry some freedom of movement back,” Filius cheerfully volunteered.

Soraya hated to bring the mood of the discussion down, but she’d had an interesting discussion with the Head of the Dragon Reserve, Garreth Lloyd, who was also a Speaker. She filled them in on the background of her concerns, then released the bombshell.

“Garreth asked me if Harry also spoke with snakes. Apparently, better than ninety percent of Dragon Speakers are also reasonably fluent in Parseltongue. He described it as talking to someone who speaks a dialect close to, but not exactly the same as your own. Weirdly enough, natural Parselmouths, who can also read Parselscript, are unable to talk to dragons. No one knows why. But we know much of the wizarding world is appallingly terrible when it comes to using rational thought. We’re going to be drowning in accusations that Harry was corrupted by Fold-a-dork, or that if he was powerful enough to defeat THI and can speak in Parseltongue, he’s automatically going to be the next dark lord.”

“I believe I may have a solution,” Ragnok volunteered. “My great-nephew Grinlast has a friend with a new corn snake, and they’d both love to show the snake off. I’m sure the boys would love a chance to spend one last day in the Enklabe before they have to get on the train in three days. Neville is invited as well, of course, Augusta.”

Soraya added, “I kept things low key with Harry, after Garreth told me that bit of news, and got him talking about different pets and familiars. He’s not encountered a snake before. He was always denied the chance to go on school trips to the zoo…well any trips that involved spending money actually. So I think Ragnok’s plan is a good one.”

“Alright, have the boys Floo in directly at 9:15, that’ll avoid the press if anyone thinks Harry might be here,” the Buruzagi directed. “I’ll arrange to have Grinlast take them down. Firelock, I know Ringstar had an early Mind Healing session this morning, but I’d feel much more comfortable having her around, just in case Harry needs some extra support.” Firelock nodded and went to send an urgent message to his wife.

Ragnok continued, “I think we need to mount a massive PR campaign over this issue. Amelia, would you like to join me in this endeavour? Once we’re done, every witch and wizard in Britain will think being a Dragon Speaker is the most magnificent gift of all. And they’re going to not mind in the slightest if Harry can talk to snakes or not.”

“Let’s drown them in facts and decent information sources, Ragnok. It might make some of those kids growing up in traditionally dark families think twice about following some wizard who can only talk to one type of animal. I mean, how passé is that?” Amelia looked like she was going to have some fun with this.

~0~0~

Harry was a bit surprised to be woken by the news that Grinlast had invited Neville and him to the Enklabe that Thursday morning. He’d thought that Soraya had planned a quiet day at home. But when the three of them Floo’ed into the bank and met Grinlast, they realised the young Guduriak was excited to share some news.

“Bellgyre, who lives down the street, just received a special gift from his father. He found it in the Magical Pet store near the San Francisco Enklabe. Woodlaw was doing business in America and went birthday present shopping between meetings,” Grinlast shared excitedly.

“So are you going to tell us what this amazing new pet is, or just keep bouncing around like you’ve had too much sugar?” Harry joked with his friend.

Grinlast tugged the two boys and Soraya by their hands and intent-travelled them to his home in Udaberria, then hauled them down the street with amazing strength.

“Come on, you’ve got to see it.” Grinlast dragged them into the front garden of a house three doors down from his own, and reaching the entryway, called, “Harry and Neville are here, Bellgyre. I want to show them Azkarra !” (Speedy)

“Keep your claws on. I’ll be right out. Help yourself to something to drink,” was the reply heard from a back room.

Bellgyre soon emerged, and to Harry’s surprise, he was bearing a reddish-orange snake about a metre long. Soraya watched as Harry and Neville became quickly entranced by the reptile, which tolerated being gently passed from person to person quite well. Azkarra ended up in Harry’s lap after a short while, seemingly enjoying the gentle strokes down her long body.

“Oh, you like that don’t you Azkarra?” Harry cooed at the snake.

“I like it very much, young wizard. Would you mind petting the top of my head as well?”

“Of course,” Harry replied, then did as he’d promised.”

“Oooh thank you. That feels delightful. You may pet me at any time. You have very gentle hands.”

Neville interrupted then, “Errr, Harry, why are you hissing at the snake?”

“I’m not hissing, I’m just talking. But Azkarra must be a magical snake, because I can understand what she’s saying back to me as well. Can’t you all hear her?”

“It all sounds like hissing to us, Harry,” Soraya responded. At this point, Ringstar slipped quietly into the room, and Harry gave Soraya a quizzical look.

“Okay Harry, we’ll come clean. We’re not just here to admire Bellgyre’s new snake, as gorgeous as she is. But there was an article about you in the Daily Prophet this morning that might cause some trouble.”

With that, Soraya handed over the morning newspaper, and all four boys bunched up together to read the article.

“I guess I don’t understand how this is going to cause problems, Soraya?” Harry was more than a bit puzzled at what seemed to be a rare overreaction by the adults.

Ringstar grabbed a dining chair so that she could sit with the group.

“Because we were able to get your vision corrected and finally heal the scar left by Voldemort’s attack on you, you look much less like your father than when you first appeared in August, Harry. The Hogwarts students all accept what you look like now, but the general wizarding public thinks you look like the pictures in those stupid adventure books we had to block from being published.”

Harry got the idea then. “I’m not going to be left alone when I go out, am I? Not without using the glamour on my watch. Otherwise, it’ll be like it was in the Leaky Cauldron when Hagrid brought me through the first time. Awww, that bites!”

“Even with the glamour, you’ll probably need more adults around, Harry. Because a lot of the public who spends time around Diagon Alley knows who your friends are. It won’t be hard to figure out you’re wearing a glamour and harass you anyway,” Ringstar commented, sadly adding to the string of annoyances triggered by the article.

“There’s more you need to know Harry, and that’s why we took the opportunity for you to meet Azkarra.” Soraya proceeded to relay the information about the ability for most Dragon Speakers to be able to talk to snakes to some degree, and why the wizarding public was so against Parselmouths.

“They’re gonna hate me because I can talk to both dragons and snakes, and that automatically means I’m evil? That’s crazy. There’s no logic that says the two things are related. Even with just primary school science, I can see there’s loads of flaws in that reasoning.”

Ringstar answered Harry’s statement. “You’re totally right, Harry. Ragnok and Madam Bones are going to launch an all-out assault on the stupid class of the wizarding world. Mr Lloyd had agreed to an interview, and he has friends from other dragon reserves who he thinks will help. We want to put many faces out there, to show that you’re not as unique in your skills as most British wizards and witches would think. We’re going to drown the public in the stories of so many Dragon Speakers who aren’t evil, they will be forced to change their opinions.”

Soraya continued quite fiercely, “Just because Fold-a-dork could speak to snakes (but not dragons it turns out), we’re not going to let what creatures you can speak to, and what happened when you were fifteen months old drag you into a huge political mess.”

“So, what are the chances that this will all blow over before we get on the Hogwarts Express on Sunday?” Harry was not looking forward to a bunch of rubberneckers wandering past him and his friends for the entire trip.

“I suspect there may be a special edition of the Prophet going out tonight if we can beat Rita Skeeter at her game. Amelia is working on what the Muggle press calls a ‘fluff piece’. There’ll be more photos of you talking and playing with the dragons, and she’ll carefully hint that it’s not unusual for Dragon Speakers to talk with other animals as well. That should spoil Skeeter’s plans because we’ll be volunteering most of the details, she likes to drag out in multiple articles to get more headlines. We plan on stealing her thunder.”

Harry and Ringstar swapped evil grins at that. His Mind Healer continued, “We think we can get the interview with Garreth published tomorrow, and other Dragon Speakers from around the world into the Saturday papers; that should calm the waters a little by Sunday. If it still looks ugly, Professor Flitwick has offered to Floo down to London and ride the train, to provide more adult supervision.”

It was obvious from Ringstar’s detailed report that discussions had been ongoing amongst Harry’s Guduriak and wizarding adults, for the plans to have advanced so much in just the last hour or so.

“It all sounds good to me. It’s not like I can do much to fix this mess anyway. So, I say let’s forget all about it and go have some fun. Does one more day at the beach sound good to everyone?” Harry received enthusiastic support for the plan.

“How about you Azkarra, want to come hang out in the warm sun with us as well?”

“That sounds very enjoyable, young wizard. I should give you a special name of your own, now that I’m learning to understand Gudurian, by listening to my two-legged guardians. I shall call you…Dragoi Laguna, which means dragon friend. Now, let us go bask in the sun.”

Harry and the other boys had no problems following Azkarra’s commands for the day, finally returning home in the late afternoon.

~0~0~

The plan that Ringstar had outlined in Bellgyre’s living room proceeded quite nicely over the next several days, and by Sunday morning, the press and the public had calmed down considerably. Harry and Ringstar had a session at the Gastronomic Alley flat, aimed at handling the stress of so much unwanted attention, and the likely intrusive questions from other nosy students who simply couldn’t let things go over the next few weeks.

Harry used one or other of his Guduriak-made glamours when he and Soraya went out to eat or finish up a little shopping. They heard some talk as they moved about the Alleys, but the public reception was veering ever more into the positive.

Minerva and Filius had spoken and made an executive decision to have the Charms professor ride the train, just for a little added insurance. Harry was hoping to talk the Ravenclaw Head into more Gudurian lessons on the ride, and he was prepared, with a stash of extra Muggle chocolate bars to lure the diminutive man into his compartment.

The two professors hadn’t discussed the matter of security on the train ride northward with the Headmaster, because he’d been in an intense snulk (the term having been coined by Filius for a major snit and sulk combined) since returning from his ICW meetings in Rome on Tuesday night. His snulk had been compounded by the dressing down he’d received from the Board of Governors (led by Augusta Longbottom at her intimidating best) over the shambles that the school’s wards had become.

And that didn’t even begin to compare to the brouhaha over having the Philosopher’s Stone, a Cerberus and a troll in the castle. Dumbledore was not in anyone’s good books at the moment, and he dreaded the moment the Flamels added their two knuts’ worth.

It didn’t help that Harry Potter, according to Molly Weasley’s report, had been picked up from the train by someone other than the Dursleys for the Easter break, and there were rumours in the Ministry of a push to change young Harry’s guardians. But all attempts to find out any details were blocked by a strict gag order issued by the Head of the DMLE, and Dumbledore knew all too well how difficult it was to force Amelia Bones’ hand. So, the snulk continued unabated, and the house-elves grew to dread having to deal with the grumpy old goat that inhabited the Headmaster’s tower.

~0~0~

The ride back to Hogwarts on Sunday was pleasingly uneventful. Harry and Soraya had Floo’ed to Kings Cross Station early, as had become their habit over the course of the year when Hedwig decided to fly herself to or from school. Staking claim to three compartments for the large group of friends (which also ensured there was room for one pint-sized Charms Master as well), he decided against going back out onto the platform, not wanting to invite more attention than the articles had already stirred up.

There had been a flurry of interest across magical Britain following the original Skeeter article, but much of it had settled down very quickly through the interventions of Harry’s supporters. The main thing Harry felt he’d be facing now was not vilification over speaking to snakes, but endless questions about what it was like to be able to talk to dragons, and what did they have to say in return.

Rita Skeeter had tried a little muckraking, claiming that it was well known that curse scars don’t heal, and seeing as Harry’s had, it must mean that Harry was an imposter and where was the real Boy-Who-Lived? She’d failed to sell that article to the Daily Prophet, and it was last heard she was trying to tout it to the paparazzi-oriented gossip magazines on the Continent.

No one was worried by her claims; Gringotts genealogy records were irrefutable, and Augusta had tasked herself with tracing back through the Potter lineage to see if there were any Dragon Speakers in the distant family tree. Though she readily acknowledged, with Lily being Muggleborn, there may be a long-extinct magical line somewhere back in her history that contributed to Harry’s rare talent.

Neville arrived not long after Harry had staked out their territory on the train. He had said goodbye to Augusta on the platform and Harry had to lean out the window to say his own farewells. And now that Neville was there, Soraya issued goodbye hugs and best wishes for a pleasant ride to the boys and ended up standing with Augusta to wave the pair off when the train departed. Soraya spotted Professor Flitwick strolling up the platform and pointed out where the two boys were seated, and he called out for them to save him a seat, which the boys acknowledged with a thumbs up.

“Hedwig taking advantage of the nice weather and flying up to Hogwarts, Harry?”

“Yeah, she loves a good long stretch of her wings. Say, where’s Trevor?” Harry noted the toad’s absence.

“Well, I might be needing a new pet next year. Trevor found himself a lady friend in the pond in our middle greenhouse last week. He seemed very reluctant to come back to Hogwarts after that,” Neville answered with the reddened face common to all pre-pubescent boys when faced with things related to s-e-x.

The embarrassing moment was interrupted by the appearance of Susan at the door, bearing a new friend in the form of a young tortoiseshell cat in a carrier, and closely followed by Professor Flitwick.

“Oh my,” he said, mopping his brow with a handkerchief bearing the Ravenclaw colours, “I don’t think we teachers realise how isolated the parents of our Muggleborn students feel once their children start schooling at Hogwarts. I’ve been answering questions for the better part of the last hour. Is it true, Mr Potter, that parents of students in Muggle schools meet with the teachers several times a year?”

“Yes, Professor. They’re called parent-teacher nights, and the parents can sign up for a short appointment right after school or in the evening, to discuss their kid’s progress and any concerns. They’re usually held a couple of times a year. And there’s also something called the Parent-Teacher Association, where parents can get involved with special projects at the school or help out with events like dances or sports days. As well as having general meetings to talk about how the school is being run.”

“Hmm, that’s fascinating. And something we at Hogwarts could be doing better. I must talk with Professor McGonagall about these ideas.” Flitwick paused for a moment as the five-minute warning whistle blasted. “Duty calls, I must do one last sweep of the platform for stragglers. Mustn’t leave anyone behind. And be sure to keep my seat free; I’ve heard talk of there being Muggle chocolates for me to try!”

The irrepressibly energetic professor popped out of the compartment and onto the platform, jostling the elbows of students wanting to chat a little longer and hurrying along the dawdlers.

In what was becoming a recognisable tradition, a carrot-topped tide of chaos swept down the platform, as the Weasleys arrived at the last minute again.

The strident voice of Molly Weasley could be heard over the diminishing crowd, “Ginny child, if you wanted the chance to meet Harry Potter, you shouldn’t have spent twenty extra minutes in front of the mirror, messing with your hair. You will meet the boy next year for certain and ask all the dragon questions you wish. And perhaps Harry might come visit his friends at the Burrow this summer as well.”

It appeared that Mrs Weasley had given up on Ronald attracting the Boy-Who-Lived’s attention and had caught wind of the fact that the twins had joined Harry and his friends for lunch on the train journey after Christmas break. Harry simply groaned. Would the woman never give up? But the crowd of redheads soon rushed past them, seeking empty compartments, and Harry returned to the window so he could wave goodbye to Soraya and Neville’s gran properly.

The final whistle blew, and having a full head of steam, the Hogwarts Express slowly pulled away from the station. The boys waved madly at Augusta and Soraya, joined in the window by Susan, who’d become fond of both witches over the holidays. The three friends settled back in their seats, and Susan had just introduced her new Kneazle Marta (which, appropriately for a magical cat, meant mistress of the house), when an out-of-breath Professor Flitwick returned. He’d been so busy moving the students along that he’d had to make a long dash on short legs to depart with the train as well.

“You deserve a reward for that Professor!” Harry reached into his backpack, where he’d stashed his Muggle chocolate, and randomly pulled out a Yorkie bar, a Twirl and a Crunchie bar.

“Start off with this lot, and if you’re not in a sugar coma by the end, we have more!” He opened his backpack a little wider to reveal the array of options.

Flitwick’s eyes got huge as he took in the assortment of chocolate bars. “Did you buy every chocolate the Muggles have ever created?”

“Nah, this is just the stuff the three of us like. There’s loads more that we didn’t buy because none of us really fancied it,” Harry announced as if it was an everyday thing, which for Muggles it really was.

Filius, accustomed to a decent variety of sweets at Honeydukes, bemoaned the lack of innovation in the magic confectionery world, at his first taste of a Crunchie bar. Finishing the treat in record time, and indicating the backpack beside Harry, he asked, “Would I be guessing correctly that there are no Sherbet Lemons in your bag, for a certain Headmaster who might be addicted to them?”

“I didn’t know he was, sir. But seeing as I’ve basically never even talked to the Headmaster, I’d hardly feel the urge to go shopping for treats for the man. Now our favourite Charms professor, that’s a different thing entirely. Especially if we get Gudurian lessons!” Harry finished with a cheeky grin.

The trio negotiated four more chocolate bars (a Toblerone, a Curly Wurly, a Kitkat, and a Cadbury fruit and nut bar) for language lessons after lunch. They spent the rest of the morning wandering back and forth amongst the three compartments, chatting with their friends, and playing rapid-fire rounds of various card games, with a Monopoly marathon set up in the first compartment.

Professor Flitwick’s presence deterred the dragon-curious students who wandered by, and within an hour or so, word had passed through the train to leave Harry Potter be, there was a professor on board.

After a delicious, packed lunch of freshly baked bread rolls stuffed full of meat and salad items, accompanied by homemade potato crisps, and still-warm apple hand pies, supplied by the Hogwarts house-elves, Professor Flitwick switched from a congenial fellow traveller to an engaging language instructor. He very ably managed the disparity of the skills of his pupils, keeping Neville and Susan engaged in basic greetings and simple inquiries while switching over frequently to Harry to work more on advanced conversational skills and an extended vocabulary.

As they pulled into Hogsmeade station and watched the chaos of their fellow students begin to disembark, everyone was happy that they’d finished the language lessons a little early, to allow for time to don school robes and gather their belongings. Harry slipped a few more chocolate bars into the professor’s hand in thanks, when the others weren’t paying attention, ensuring the professor would also get to try Whispa and Bounty bars, a mint Aero, and the crumbly joys of a Flake.

~0~0~

Fortunately, Professor Flitwick rode in their carriage up to the castle, because, quite unusually, Professor Dumbledore stood on the steps, greeting the students as they passed.

Neville and Susan drew closer to Harry as they neared the entrance, anticipating trouble, and Filius found himself shadowing the boy more closely as well.

“Mr Potter, I wish to speak with you for a moment. Your friends may run along to the Great Hall, where their dinner awaits. You will be following along very shortly, I promise.”

Susan and Neville stood straighter and refused to budge.

“Professor Dumbledore, I have been asked by my guardian to only speak with you if she or a Head of House is present. I would be happy to contact her and arrange an appointment for us.”

Harry trembled a little at standing up to such a powerful wizard, that particular struggle being part and parcel of having been raised in such an abusive home, Filius noted, while keeping to the shadows and observing. That he could do so was a credit to Ringstar’s efforts with Mind Healing, along with having found such a wonderful support system at the same time.

“Surely such formality is not necessary, my boy. I just need a few minutes to speak with you about a matter of importance related to your family.” The old goat wasn’t backing off, Filius noted, and he silently sent a Patronus to Soraya to Floo or Apparate to Hogsmeade. She’d have to walk in from outside the wards, but if he got dragged into this mess by Dumbledore, Filius was confident he could delay things until she arrived with the guardianship papers.

“I’m sorry sir, but I must do as my guardian has asked. Could we get her here after dinner? Everyone else has gone inside and has started eating. We’re kind of hungry, sir.”

At that Filius deliberately emerged a little from the shadows, intent on just barely catching Albus’ eye.

“Ahhh, now we have no problems with you speaking with me, dear boy. You did say it would be fine for a Head of House to be with you when we meet. Well then, Professor Flitwick will fill the job admirably, I’m sure. Now run along children, your friend will be with you shortly.” Dumbledore was rather smug in his assumptions that things were now going to go his way.

“Surely Headmaster, nothing can be more important than the students getting a good meal after a long train ride. I would be happy to accompany Mr Potter to your office straight after dinner. I am certain whatever this issue might be, it can be sorted out more effectively when everyone has a full stomach.”

Filius was pushing the student welfare button hard. With two other first years as witnesses, it would not look good for the Headmaster to be depriving a child of food when other reasonable options were available. And he knew Neville and Susan were highly capable of starting a rumour about Dumbledore dragging Harry off before he could step foot in the castle for who knew what reasons, and not even letting him eat. The Headmaster, looking at Harry’s friends who remained defiantly at his side, knew that too.

“Very well, after dinner in my office. Shall we say seven thirty?” Refusing to admit defeat to himself, the Headmaster turned on his heel and went through the doors into the castle.

Filius sent a second Patronus to Soraya. “Headmaster’s office at 7:30 pm. I will be there as well.” He then turned to the three Hufflepuffs and reassured them that the situation was well in hand.

“Ms Whittaker has been notified and I’m sure she’ll let Madam Bones and Ragnok know what’s going on. Now that we have a little time until the meeting, go eat. And try not to worry too much, alright?”

Harry ate sparingly, his stomach churning from the upcoming confrontation. Neville and Susan did their best to reassure him while warding off anxious inquiries from their year mates. It certainly had drawn attention from asking Harry about being a Dragon Speaker, at least at the Hufflepuff table. Though on reflection, Harry would have preferred that alternative.

Dumbledore disappeared shortly after 7:00, having somewhat wolfed down his dinner, which helped Harry relax a little and he was able to enjoy the meal a little more.

At 7:20, Professor Flitwick gave a subtle thumbs-up to Harry and his friends. Soraya had arrived and was gesturing discreetly from the entrance to the Great Hall. Quite a few of the students were finishing up their meals at this point, as were the staff, so it was no difficulty for the three friends and the Head of Ravenclaw to meet Harry’s guardian in one of the receiving rooms off the Entry Hall.

Giving Harry a huge hug, Soraya joked, “I didn’t think you missed me so badly that I’d be up here at the school only half a day after you left. ”

That got a near smile out of Harry and giggles from Susan and Neville.

“Are you sure the paperwork is okay, that he can’t override it? Dumbledore is pretty powerful and runs the Wizengamot and everything,” was Harry’s nervous reply.

“It’s all in order. The Muggle transfer of custody is watertight, and magical laws indicate that any Muggleborn or Muggle-raised child with a magical parent or guardian cannot be separated from that person’s supervision without just cause. Which Dumbledore doesn’t have!”

Soraya’s emphatic words served to calm Harry down a little.

She continued, “And to back it all up, Amelia has been busy while you’ve had your dinner. She ran the paperwork by Liam Childe, who is the Director of the Wizarding Children’s Welfare Services (WCWS) and mirror-boxed his handwritten opinion, backed by his Seal of Office, that the guardianship papers are in order and valid. He refuses to even open an inquiry into your situation unless someone can provide proof the papers were obtained illegally, or that you are suffering under my care. And she’s waiting by her Floo to be called in if needed as well.”

Harry relaxed even further at those words, then turned to Susan. “Remind me never to make your aunt mad. I think she’d take her revenge so quickly I wouldn’t know what happened.”

Susan laughed and answered, “You wouldn’t be the first to say that about Auntie. I think you’re safe though,” she finished with a wink.

Filius looked at his pocket watch and said, “We should get moving. Best not to give him any ammunition by being late. Still want me there, Harry, even with Soraya joining us?”

Harry nodded an emphatic response, as the group moved towards the Headmaster’s office, Susan and Neville peeling off at the stairs to wait for their friend in the Hufflepuff common room.

Harry took a deep breath as they arrived at the gargoyle protecting the stairs to Dumbledore’s office, and Soraya gave him another reassuring hug as Flitwick gave the password ‘Sugar quills’. The gargoyle moved aside, allowing them to step on the stairs and be propelled on the winding upward path to the Headmaster’s door.

Harry knocked diffidently, then entered on hearing Dumbledore’s call of, “Come in, my dear boy.” Professor Flitwick followed, closely tailed by Soraya. Dumbledore stared for a moment at the unfamiliar woman in her mid-thirties before placing her.

“Ahh, Ms Whittaker, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I don’t believe we have an appointment, and I am rather busy at the moment. Perhaps we could set another time…?” The Headmaster’s voice trailed off into uncertainty when Soraya stepped to Harry’s side and put a protective hand on his shoulders.

“I am where I am meant to be Headmaster. Harry informed you he could only meet with his guardian or a Head of House present, I am certain. Well, we decided to meet both criteria,” she finished off firmly, indicating Professor Flitwick would be staying for the meeting as well.

Dumbledore’s mind raced. This must have been the woman Molly Weasley had reported Harry leaving Kings Cross Station with, at the end of last term. He wondered how such a notable magic hater as Petunia Dursley had managed to get a witch involved as Harry’s magical guardian.

To prove her point, Soraya handed the elderly wizard copies of the guardianship papers signed by Harry’s aunt, permanently transferring Harry to her care.

Dumbledore’s jaw dropped. How could such a thing have happened without his knowledge, and by what means had this witch managed to install herself in Petunia’s place? Thinking rapidly, he tried to bluster his way out of the situation.

“I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mix-up here. It is impossible that Harry leaves his Aunt’s care. There are complex protections on that home, that only keep the boy safe if he makes his home with blood relatives, protections that Lily herself put in place. There will be terrible consequences if Harry does not continue to call Privet Drive home.”

“And what would the nature of these protections be, Dumbledore?” Soraya was taking the gloves off, dropping the honorific as she spoke in a decidedly frosty tone.

“I’m sure you must realise that Harry’s security details cannot be shared about willy-nilly. Needless to say, I personally ensured the highest protections would be in place for Harry’s home, along with those placed by his mother of course.” Dumbledore was relying on one of his standbys, many years of refining the degree of his pomposity.

“I’m sure that level of warding must easily be up to the quality of the wards here at the school, before my colleagues had to shore them up several weeks past, that is.” Soraya was taking no prisoners with the evident derision and sarcasm in her voice.

For Dumbledore, the light went on. ‘Dammit,’ he thought, ‘those bloody goblins have gotten their claws into Harry. They’ll do whatever they can to thwart me from helping him to follow his destiny!’

Harry’s guardian went for the next blow. “The warding at the Dursleys was quite…interesting. There were no familial protections that could be detected, which would imply that Harry had never conceived of the house as being a home. And it was notable that there were no wards to alert someone in authority if Harry came to harm from those who lived inside the ward boundary, only those from outside. Was that an oversight or a deliberate omission, my suspicious mind asks?”

Dumbledore had been pummelled into silence by this point.

Then Soraya launched the final, knock-out punch, handing over the written determination from Liam Childe regarding Soraya’s custody of Harry.

“Madam Bones was kind enough to obtain this determination of guardianship from the head of the Wizarding Children’s Welfare Services. I’m sure you’d like a copy for your files. Now, I rather think we’re done here, aren’t we Dumbledore? Harry could do with a good night’s sleep before starting classes tomorrow, and I have an 8 am meeting with Buruzagi Ragnok to prepare for.”

The act of adding the Gringotts chief’s honorific while ignoring the Headmaster’s was the seal of contempt on the conversation. Filius inwardly chuckled at the master class in putting Albus in his place that Soraya had just conducted, while Harry struggled not to break out into a grin.

Shepherding Harry (who’d been having a quiet chat with Herrick the Sorting Hat and leaving the adults to work things out) toward the door, she dug the knife in once more, calling, “Goodnight Dumbledore” over her shoulder, and descended the stairs. Filius added his only words to the entire conversation with a quiet, “Goodnight Albus”, which was happily his only contribution to the proceedings.

As Harry said goodnight to Soraya and went to tell Neville and Susan all the juicy gossip, Filius strolled back to his own rooms casually unwrapping the mint Aero, then savouring the flavour and texture contentedly.

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore in his office slumped back in his seat, head drooped in defeat. If the goblins, the DMLE and the WCWS were against him, how would he be able to engineer Harry to face Voldemort when he returned, as the prophecy demanded? What would become of wizardkind in Britain, maybe across the world, if he couldn’t make Harry do his duty? The demoralised wizard slunk off to bed, not even bothering to turn out the lights or say goodnight to Fawkes, his phoenix.

Fawkes however, had observed the night’s events closely. Things were shifting in the wizarding world, and the time might come when he’d need to choose a different side. It would bear close watching.

Chapter 15

It seemed that each time they returned to Hogwarts, Harry and his friends slid back into the routine of boarding school with greater ease. Apart from the dreaded History of Magic and DADA classes, their lessons were going well, even Potions with Professor Snape, who was being described as curiously mellow by the students of the upper years.

The study group continued to go well and had expanded to a third session a week, and was now routinely used to review all classes, rather than just DADA, though in truth it had been heading that way since its inception. The fact that it was a good excuse to hang out in their house-elf-customised special space, and eat muggle chocolate bars and other goodies, had no influence on that evolution at all, nor the fact that the students with Muggle contacts were regularly being resupplied by said contacts via the mirror-boxes they now all owned.

Predictably there had been more than a few questions about Harry’s Dragon Speaking, and one or two about whether he was a Parselmouth as well, but the Professors were quick to stamp out any such behaviour in the classrooms, and the prefects were on alert to watch for it in the halls. At Professor Sprout’s prompting, to get the dragon chatter done with sooner rather than later, Harry had held a question-and-answer session in the Hufflepuff common room the second week of term.

There were lots of questions that all danced around the topic of how brilliant it was to be able to talk to dragons. Susan shut those down after the fifth iteration with a fervent, “He’s already told you it’s amazing. Move on already!”

Professor Sprout, who was sitting in to ‘supervise’ the session, sat back and left it in the hands of the more than capable Miss Bones.

After relaying some of the stories the dragons had shared with him, he heard the anticipated question, “So can you talk to snakes too?” The implied tone of the second year asking was, “You’re not another Voldemort are you?”

Answering calmly, Harry replied, “I sort of can. It’s kind of like…talking to someone from another country who doesn’t know English well. The accent is weird, and the words get jumbled up sometimes. I think I’m more of a half-trained snake translator, than a true speaker. It’s nothing like the dragons. I can talk with them and understand them as easily as I can have a conversation with you.”

Harry sensed the subtle pockets of tension in the room starting to bleed out with his words. And decided a little public education was in order.

“But speaking of Parselmouths, did you know the most powerful British Parselmouth was Merlin himself? You can’t say a person is good or evil based on one single thing alone, particularly something they were born with and have no control over. That would be like saying everyone who can touch their tongue to the tip of their nose is evil. By the way, I can’t so that means I must be amazingly good, even if I can sort of understand snakes.”

Harry paused a moment for dramatic effect.

“But those of you who can do it…watch out. We have our eyes on you!”

That produced the laugh he’d been aiming for, diffusing the remaining tension in the room. The more general questions started up again, and Harry endured the interrogation for another half hour before he pleaded the need to finish his Herbology essay, so his professor didn’t yell at him.

Professor Sprout laughed the loudest of everyone at that comment and ended the meeting. She decamped to Filius’ quarters and filled him in on how the meeting had gone. They were both rather proud of how well Harry had stood up to the scrutiny, and so were Soraya, Ragnok and Firelock when Filius relayed the news via a mirror-call after Pomona had left.

~0~0~

By the second weekend in May, the weather was giving clear hints of the summer to come, with a warmth to the breeze that had been missing since the school year began. Much of the castle’s residents (if you left out the madly revising OWL and NEWT students) were out on the grounds and enjoying the delightful weather.

As might be expected, on a weekend with no Quidditch Cup games, both pitches were busy with students of all years playing pick-up games, in their designated time slots. Harry found himself playing Chaser on a team with second years Katie Bell and Marcus Belby, along with fellow first years Dean Thomas, Megan Jones, and Kay Formby who’d turned into a brilliant Keeper. He and Megan had tossed a coin for who would play seeker, and Megan had won. Not that Harry really minded, he just really loved to fly.

The informal Quidditch games had become quite popular over the course of the year and were heavily attended by students of all Houses, particularly the year mates of those playing. Even the professors not taking detention tended to show up, particularly when the weather was pleasant, so there was a good turnout that day.

The first/second-year games were time limited to an hour so that they could squeeze two matches into their two-hour pitch booking. The Snitch was charmed to appear in that time period, to add to the drama.

They were just short of halfway through the match when the first sign of trouble appeared. Harry was chasing a Quaffle that had gone astray during an opposition pass when he felt a sudden jolt rush along his Nimbus 2000. He dodged behind Beater Marcus Belby and his broom flight smoothed out, so Harry thought nothing of it.

The next five minutes resembled more an aerial rugby scrum than a Quidditch match, as the Beaters found themselves amidst a pitched Chaser battle, with passes dropped and intercepted in the fierce exchange. Beater bats flailed and rabid Bludgers joined the party, and for a while, even a trained Quidditch announcer would have struggled to call what was going on. Eventually, Katie Bell snagged the Quaffle and raced towards the hoops, leaving the sorry mess behind for another goal.

As Harry pulled clear of the crowd of flyers, he felt another jolt along his broom, only this time it didn’t stop. In fact, it only became worse, as if the broom was an unbroken horse, trying to buck its first rider. Harry fought the motion diligently for over a minute, as the other flyers began to realise his difficulties, and watchers shouted from the ground. To make matters worse, the broom exacerbated the bucking by rapidly changing directions as it zoomed around the pitch, with its rider hanging on for dear life.

Down on the ground, chaos reigned. Neville and Susan rose to their feet in the stands and cast looks about for someone who could help their friend, all the while holding their breath. Professor McGonagall had her wand out, ready to cast a spell to slow the boy’s descent, should he lose grip on the broom, while Professor Flitwick was rapidly charming the pitch surface into something resembling blancmange, casting silently while urging the older students to assist with the task.

The Weasley twins, who turned out every time because they enjoyed Quidditch no matter the skill level of the players, rapidly scanned the stands. They’d pulled enough pranks to recognise someone had charmed Harry’s broom and knew that most of those spells required the caster to maintain a line of sight on the target.

After long seconds, Fred thought he’d found the culprit, even if it made no sense at all. Professor Quirrell was in the stand opposite, wand out and continuously verbalising a spell. Fred would have thought nothing of it, except the DADA professor never took his eyes off Harry, to see what rescue efforts were going on at ground level.

He elbowed George beside him and shared his thoughts without saying a word, in a form of mental twin speak, and they rapidly went into action. George threw a smoke bomb onto the pitch that he just happened to have in his robe pocket that day. No one needed to know the twins were experimenting with creating coloured smoke bombs that could spell out messages. At the same time, Fred sent an overpowered stinging hex at the professor, interrupting his casting.

Harry’s broom stopped bucking when the stinging hex hit, and never resumed as the smoke bomb covered the pitch, blocking everyone’s view of the players in the air. But it was seconds too late for the exhausted first year, who lost his grip on his broom and began to plummet towards the pitch. Fortunately, Professor McGonagall had a tiny window of opportunity to cast a spell to slow Harry down before the smoke blocked her vision, and the transformed pitch had developed a jiggly pudding consistency, which helped save the boy from serious injury.

Harry landed with more of a splat than a thud and sank into the spongy turf that absorbed the last of his momentum. His left arm was caught awkwardly under his body, and he was unconscious when Professor Flitwick arrived, having been closest when Harry started to fall. They were soon surrounded by a crowd of students that managed to block access for Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall.

However, the feeling of a strong wind blowing was soon felt, dispersing the smoke, and McGonagall appeared through the gloom like a Highland warrior ready to go on a rampage, which scattered the students very effectively. Madam Hooch called out from her broom above, “I’ll fetch Madam Pomfrey,” and raced off to complete her task, much to the indignation of the mediwitch who found herself riding a broom in tandem back down to the pitch mere minutes later.

With Neville and Susan standing close by and attended by McGonagall and Flitwick (Professor Quirrell being suddenly and curiously absent), Madam Pomfrey cast a quick diagnostic spell over Harry and pronounced the results. “Poor lad, that left shoulder is dislocated, and he’s got a pretty good concussion. I doubt he got that blow to the head by landing on such a soft surface. Any chance he was hit by a Bludger on the way down?”

The Weasley twins blushed a little, because no one could answer, thanks to their smoky intervention. But Professor Flitwick replied, “We honestly don’t know. Some quick-thinking person recognised Harry’s broom had been cursed, and that the caster had to keep eyes on Mr Potter for it to keep working. A rather ingenious smokescreen blocked the view of the players in very short order, which saved the boy from greater injury I’m sure, but meant we couldn’t see if he was also hit by a Bludger as he fell.”

The twins, who were standing close behind the Charms professor by this time, blushed furiously, and the redness only deepened when they heard the Ravenclaw Head mutter, “Twenty points apiece, Misters Weasley, and well done.”

“Well, I’ll put an immobilising spell on the shoulder and we’ll get Mr Potter to the infirmary; make sure there’s no other injuries. Nicely done with the pitch transformation. Might be something to do before every game and save me some work,” she finished with a sniff. It was Filius’ turn to blush at the compliment, while Madam Hooch agreed it was an idea worth considering.

Madam Pomfrey then levitated Harry onto the stretcher she’d pulled out of her medical bag and expanded with a touch of her wand. Activating the stretcher levitation rune, she guided the unconscious boy up towards the castle, with Neville and Susan following closely, begging to be allowed to stay with their friend.

“Just the two of you, and you have to follow all my instructions. Mr Potter will want quiet when he wakes. Concussions cause terrible headaches that sometimes the best potions can’t shift.” Her voice trailed off into the distance, along with her entourage, one of whom would hopefully wake up soon.

An uncharacteristically soft Minerva McGonagall approached Fred and George, pulling them to one side, as Professor Flitwick set the remaining students to casting Finite Incantatem at the pitch, to reverse the grass to its normal texture. “Let’s head over to the other stands. Professor Flitwick and I would like to hear what you observed today, if you don’t mind waiting a few minutes.”

The boys indicated they didn’t mind at all and followed their Head of House obediently. They were surprised to hear her add, “And another twenty points each for quick thinking and use of a bold strategy in protecting a fellow student.”

Fred just stared at George in shock, then pinched himself. No, he wasn’t dreaming, they’d added eighty points to Gryffindor that afternoon, just for protecting a boy they actually liked a lot more than their youngest brother.

~0~0~

After debriefing the Weasley twins, Filius and Minerva stopped by the infirmary to check on Harry. Professor Sprout was also there, keeping watch over one of her Badgers as she was wont to do, with Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones flanking her. Harry’s shoulder had been reduced and he had woken briefly, they were told, and he was now healing under the influence of a pain potion and a Sleeping Draught.

Glad to hear the young lad was on the mend, the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor Heads turned in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. Neither said a word; thanks to the portraits the walls literally had ears and eyes. But they shared a significant look; they hardly expected anything of value to come from this discussion. And they were right.

Fifteen minutes later, the pair of professors had been condescended to, (almost certainly) lied to, and treated entirely disingenuously by the Headmaster. In short order, he informed them that he had the utmost trust in Professor Quirrell, that there must be something wrong with the manufacturer’s charms on Harry’s broom (all of a sudden?), and that anything the Twins had seen was circumstantial at best. He then issued a veiled threat that the Twins should likely be disciplined for attacking a professor, but he’d overlook it this time because they were overwrought at a friend being injured. He didn’t once ask after Harry’s well-being, both professors noted with interest as well.

Frustrated, Filius and Minerva left Dumbledore’s office, and headed to Flitwick’s quarters, which were closest. The mirror-boxes had now all been cross-linked so that Augusta, Amelia, Soraya, Ragnok and Firelock could be called at once, with each person’s face appearing in a small portion of the mirror surface.

After filling the group in on the details of Harry’s injury (interestingly Soraya had not been informed by the Headmaster), Filius relayed the details they’d gathered while on the pitch. Ragnok immediately set his investigators the task of pulling apart Quirrell’s life from the day the man’s Daddy first cast eyes on his Mummy. Amelia suggested they work in concert, and that she’d set Kingsley Shacklebolt and Gawain Robards the task of doing the same from a wizarding perspective. The two easily agreed upon this approach and set up weekly meetings for both teams to compare notes.

Augusta asked what could be done to protect Harry more effectively while he was at Hogwarts. Firelock suggested that Quirrell had probably tried something already, but it had likely been thwarted by the warding protections of Harry’s watch, which was why he’d cursed Harry’s broom instead. Filius offered to up the protective charms on Harry’s broom but felt it unlikely he’d attack the same way again. In fact, it was more likely that any further attacks would be physical, given the magical protections the Guduriak had placed on the boy.

In the end, the group left the call feeling rather helpless to protect Harry from all possible harm, when they couldn’t physically be with him all the time. Soraya Fire-called Madam Pomfrey, who let her through, and she spent the evening and night watching Harry, who she’d come to love as a son, sleep off an attack on his life. Silently she renewed her protection vows and added a new clause; she’d also be protecting Harry from long-bearded, twinkly-eyed, manipulative old goats. Harry wouldn’t be harmed again if she had anything to do with it.

~0~0~

Back into the rhythm of daily life at Hogwarts, a fully recovered Harry, along with Neville, Susan and Jill, continued to be keen participants in the Herbology Club. They were all doing well with their community garden projects, Harry’s tomatoes were loads better than anything he’d ever grown at the Dursleys, which made him wonder about the influence of ambient magic on their growth. Professor Sprout was fascinated by the idea and had decided to find a local Muggle community garden over the summer to conduct some experiments. Having access to Hogwarts during the holidays meant that she could grow plants outdoors, in both locations (perhaps with a climate charm to match conditions; she’d have to talk with Filius about the idea).

One of the sixth-year club members suggested seeing if potions ingredients, that currently could only be harvested from the Forbidden Forest, tying up the teachers’ time quite a bit, might be grown with similar climate-controlled conditions in one of the greenhouses. It was another fascinating suggestion as far as the Herbology professor was concerned, and she planned a scouting trip for the group into the forest, the weekend after Harry’s unfortunate fall.

Harry, showing no after-effects from all the drama and eager to participate, was pleased to see that Professor Sprout had recruited Hagrid to come along as additional adult supervision. He was happy to see the groundskeeper’s boarhound Fang was joining them as well, given his soft spot for the dog who could not be more different from the vicious beast that was Aunt Marge’s Ripper. Harry hadn’t spent much time in the half-giant’s company since arriving at Hogwarts, just the occasional visit here and there, but he had quite a bit of affection for the man who’d been the first one to tell him he was a wizard.

As Professor Sprout called the group to order to split them up into two groups, so they could assess different plant habitats, Hagrid made an announcement.

“We’ve had reports o’ injured unicorns in the forest, not tha’ I’ve seen ‘em fer meself. ‘S a terrible creature wha’ attacks a unicorn, but we don’ know if ‘s a wizard or a beast. If yeh see a silver blood trail, lemme or Professor Sprout know abou’ it and we’ll mark the spot ter come back and check. If you’re alone by any chance, send up red sparks and stay put. Don’ follow the trail fer any reason. And yeh’d be smart ter stay in pairs, whatever you do.”

That was a long speech from Hagrid, in front of a group of students, which showed the club members just how seriously he was taking the issue.

They made their way, as a large group, into a potions-rich plant site, about ten minutes walk into the forest. Half the group was left under Hagrid and Fang’s supervision, while the remainder, including the Hufflepuff first years, followed Professor Sprout for another ten minutes. She explained what plants they were looking for, handed out pictures, and formed the group into pairs as Hagrid suggested.

“Alright, everybody. I want you to find as many of the plants as you can. Do not go more than five minutes away from this spot, and don’t forget you have a partner…make sure you stay together! Remember Hagrid’s instructions, please. Now, what I need for you to do is, if you find a collection of at least three or four of these plants, use the location spell we went over last week to record the exact location, then I want you to take down as many of the details on these plant habitat sheets as you can find out. We’ll meet back here in an hour. If you don’t have a watch, cast Tempus often! Now go have some fun.”

Harry paired with Neville, as was his habit, while Jill stuck with Susan. They wandered together for a couple of minutes before the narrow path branched and they went their separate ways. The boys didn’t see much of note along their pathway. None of the plants they came across were regularly used potion ingredients, and they were feeling a touch bored, not to mention disappointed, because they liked helping Professor Sprout out. But a minute or so later, they found a small clearing that was a great site for their project, as they had clumps of angelica, asphodel, wormwood and jewelweed.

With such a plethora of things to explore, they decided to work methodically, starting at the right side of the clearing, and working anti-clockwise back to the pathway. Harry, with the clipboard and pen, was designated as the scribe for the day, while Herbology prodigy Neville examined the plants, and their conditions, bolstered by additional observations from his friend.

The pair were about a third of the way around the fairly circular clearing when Neville peered closely at a clump of dittany, which wasn’t on their list.

“Come here, Harry. Take a look at this and tell me what you think.”

“Uh oh…looks like silver drops of unicorn blood to me.” Harry touched a fingertip to one drop. “And it’s still wet. Better send up sparks.” Neville did as requested.

Suddenly a unicorn burst into the clearing, clearly savagely wounded. Harry and Neville backed up against a tall tree and tried to appear as insignificant as possible; the animal looked as if it was running for its life. The unicorn soon disappeared up the path the boys had come down, but they stayed still, not just because they’d sent up sparks for that location, but maybe the unicorn attacker was in pursuit.

A split second later, Harry remembered he’d taken to keeping his Dad’s invisibility cloak in his backpack, Soraya having given him leave to carry it with him after the scare with the stairs and the third-floor corridor last term. He unslung his backpack, unzipped it and reached into the front pocket, and pulled out his cloak. He threw it over his best friend and himself, shushing Neville when he went to speak, and in a moment, he was thankful for taking the actions he had.

Into the clearing rushed a cloaked figure, furiously chasing the magical creature. The face was hard to see, with the hood of the cloak, but the mouth showed dribbling silver blood, and a maniacal grin. Neville shifted a little, crunching some leaves under his feet. The terrible being glanced around, and Harry grabbed his friend, they recognised those eyes, and they realised the cloak’s hood was bulged by the shape of a familiar turban. It was Quirrell who’d been attacking the unicorns!

The crazed professor turned his attention back to the pathway that the unicorn escaped down and then jumped. A dog could suddenly be heard barking in the distance, and the sound was coming ever closer. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and disappeared down the path at a run, no longer intent on the unicorn, only on escape.

No more than two minutes later, Hagrid crashed through the trees, apparently having taken a direct line to them, no matter the obstacles, with Fang at his heels. The boys immediately removed the cloak and told their tale, omitting the identity of the attacker until they could talk to Madam Bones and the rest of the group. If it had been Professors Flitwick or McGonagall that had found them, it might have been a different matter. Five minutes later, Professor Sprout also appeared, and they had to repeat the story again.

That was obviously the end of the Herbology excursion and Hagrid and Professor Sprout led them back to her main group, while the half-giant proceeded back to his team, who’d stayed in place as instructed. Professor Sprout and the students returned to the castle, a quiet and downcast group, having heard of the gravely injured unicorn, while Hagrid went back deeper into the Forest, hoping to render aid to that most pure of magical creatures.

Back at the castle, the professor swore the group to secrecy, which meant of course it was known by practically everyone by dinner time that night. She escorted Harry and Neville to Madam Pomfrey to get checked out, and the mediwitch insisted on giving them a half dose of Pepper-Up potion apiece for the shock. She then offered to let them have lunch in the infirmary, away from the chattering crowds in the Great Hall and they gratefully accepted. They knew Susan and Jill would want details, but that would have to wait until after they’d spoken to their guardians and the others.

Being able to eat right there, they were served earlier than the rest of the school and snuck back down to their dorm room before the lunch crowd was half done. Harry mirror-called Soraya, while Neville contacted Augusta, and moments later, everyone was on screen except for Filius and Minerva who were still supervising lunch in the Great Hall and would be filled in by one of the adults as soon as they were back in contact.

Harry and Neville explained the events of the morning, with Ragnok and Amelia taking detailed notes. When they identified Professor Quirrell as the assailant, no one was greatly shocked. Amelia was able to add that she’d received a report from a law enforcement wizard she’d met at an ICW conference several years ago. He worked for the Albanian Ministry of Magic and had been collating years’ worth of reports of a wraith seen by locals to regularly possess animals of various sizes.

There had also been scattered mentions of attempts to possess Muggle and magical humans as well, though unsuccessfully amongst the people who lived in the area. However, he was able to establish that a certain Quirinus Quirrell had been in the region over the summer, and all reports of attempted possessions had ceased after that time.

Ragnok confirmed his operatives had uncovered similar reports and added, “We have interviewed numerous people who knew Quirrell prior to his sabbatical and travels. He had no stutter at that time, wore no turban, and more to the point, had clearly stated to quite a few friends that he was content to return to the Muggle Studies position when he finished his travels. In point of fact, he’d frequently offered the opinion that anyone wanting to take on the cursed DADA position must have a death wish.”

That raised more than a few eyebrows in the group. Quite a shift in position for a wizard who’d returned to Hogwarts with such a timid disposition.

Amelia spoke again. “Because we have this Albanian connection, which makes this now an international investigation, I’ll have to go to the extra effort of contacting the International Wizarding Courts in Paris to obtain a warrant to take Quirrell in for questioning. It’s such a shame I can’t just call on our Chief Warlock for one. But it’s always best to follow protocols, and make sure all the rules are followed. It’ll help make our case watertight after all.”

The dry sarcasm had the group laughing for the first time since the call began. Everyone knew, including Harry and Neville, that the last thing Madam Bones wanted to do was allow the interfering Albus Dumbledore to put even one finger into her investigation. Not if she wanted to build a watertight case against Quirrell.

By this point, everyone could see that the boys were fading fast, with the effects of the Pepper-Up in their systems now pretty much burnt off by the adrenaline rush of the morning. They signed off, having ordered the boys to take a nap, with Soraya and Augusta promising to see how they were doing later that day. The boys laid down on their beds and were in the Land of Nod within seconds of their heads hitting their pillows.

~0~0~

Madam Bones, because she was definitely in her formal role at this time, fire-called the office of the Chief Justice of the International Wizarding Court (IWC), seeking a hearing with a Magister. She intended to present evidence requiring an international warrant for a person of interest, suspected of being involved in crimes most foul in Albania and Britain. Despite being a Saturday, the Chief Justice’s office was always staffed, and the Inspector in charge that day stiffened at the phrasing of Amelia’s request, then provided an appointment in an hour’s time, at 2:30 pm London time.

“I hope that accommodates your needs, Madame Bones. If you will Floo into this office a little before that time, I will escort you to Magister Elefteria Baros’ courtroom personally.”

Amelia agreed and sighed with relief. Ellie was a friend, one who’d know that Amelia wasn’t off on a wild goose chase; she was the best possible choice to present the evidence to. She Floo’ed to her office in the Ministry, thankful for the direct connection, and gathered her reports and evidence carefully, including Pensieve memories of the boys telling the tale of their adventures in the forest, and even memories of the third-floor stairs adventure from the previous term that she’d extracted from Susan over the holidays.

She firecalled Ragnok as well, notifying him of her appointment in Paris, and asking for the reports he’d collected. All the evidence, absent the boys’ experience in the Forbidden Forest, was circumstantial. But it provided a compelling picture that was hard to deny when you heard the boys tell their tale. Amelia and Ragnok talked about sharing the Horcrux information to reinforce the Voldemort connection and agreed it was an acceptable risk, given the Magister in question was well known to Amelia.

Ragnok actually offered to accompany her to Paris, a rare thing indeed. It wasn’t unheard of for a Guduriak Buruzagi to venture outside of Gringotts or the Enklabeak. The trip they’d taken to Philadelphia over Christmas proved that. What was extremely rare was for a Buruzagi to become involved in Wizarding legal issues.

Thirty minutes later, they met up in person in the waiting area of the Chief Justice’s office at the International Wizarding Court in Paris.

“Welcome Madame Bones, and welcome Buruzagi Ragnok. It’s an unexpected honour to have you join us. My name is Inspecteur Jean-Luc Pernet. If you will follow me, please, I will take you to the offices of Magister Baros. She has asked to meet there, rather than in her courtroom.”

Ragnok and Amelia followed silently down a corridor, up a flight of stairs, then along another hallway to a door marked with Magister Baros’ name and title. Pernet knocked, and on the call, “Entrez”, opened the door and ushered the British delegation inside.

Magister Baros stood from behind the desk and stepped around to face Amelia, hugging her briskly, before crying, “It is good to see you ‘Melia, even if it’s only for work this time. And Buruzagi Ragnok, it is an honour to meet you.” She turned to Ragnok and offered a short bow, which he returned.

“Now what is so important that you require my services rather than go before your Wizengamot and its most ‘marvellous’ Chief Warlock.” The sarcasm was clear, the Magister knew exactly what Amelia thought of Dumbledore.

And so, Madam Bones and Ragnok proceeded to make their case for the international warrant to take Professor Quirinus Quirrell in for questioning on crimes against magic (the unicorn attack), assault on Harry James Potter, attempted murder of Harry James Potter, attempted theft (of the Philosopher’s Stone) and association with a terrorist organisation (Voldemort and the Death Eaters).

It took over an hour to make their case, and the Magister was horrified to hear that Voldemort wasn’t entirely dead, thanks to having made multiple Horcruxes. She offered Ragnok her heartfelt thanks, on behalf of the wizarding world, for the role he and his people were playing in helping eliminate such a dangerous threat.

It was a matter of moments to sign and issue the warrant, and another minute or so to ensure that the copies of the case material were locked under the highest-level security protocols available. Magister Baros had no intention that information would be leaked from her office or her organisation.

As they finished up their business, the Magister offered Ragnok a handshake and another hug to Amelia.

“Let me know what is happening ‘Melia? You know our Floo connection has the best security protections available. It would be nice to know that young Mr Potter will be safe.”

Returning the hug, Amelia promised, “I will, Ellie. You’ll know what’s going on, every step of the way. And I promise, once this is over, we’ll get together for a girl’s weekend. Somewhere warm and fun!”

Smiling, the Magister waved them on their way and sent her best wishes. A resurrection of Voldemort didn’t bear thinking about.

~0~0~

It was six days later when the DMLE set out to arrest Quirinus Quirrell. Amelia hadn’t wanted to wait that long but she’d been forced to take Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour into her confidence. There’d been much discussion and he’d wanted to run some different training scenarios with the Aurors selected for the arrest, given it would take place at Hogwarts with school in session. He’d also argued that if Quirrell was possessed by THI (Scrimgeour enjoyed the Fold-a-dork moniker, but thought the nickname was a little undignified for his office), then he might be unpredictable when confronted.

Amelia had relented, seeing the sense of his arguments, which had been bolstered by additional intelligence from Professor Flitwick. Apparently, Quirrell typically slept in on weekend mornings and didn’t attend breakfast, and thus could be taken into custody in the security of his quarters and away from the students.

Augusta Longbottom had arranged for Dumbledore to be called away from Hogwarts that morning, by calling a meeting of the Board of Governors, to more thoroughly discuss findings of the Gringotts Warders and Curse-Breakers over the Easter break, and plan for the ward upgrades over the summer. Amelia reminded herself to send the older woman a gourmet gift basket from Harrods (Magical Division) when she heard that piece of news.

The squad of ten Aurors, accompanied by Head Auror Scrimgeour and DMLE Head Amelia Bones, arrived at the gates of Hogwarts to be met by Professor McGonagall. Entering the castle, they were escorted to a reception room off the Great Hall, just before 7:00 am (breakfast began at 7:30 on weekends). She’d had one of the house-elves confirm that Quirrell was in his quarters and left them secluded from staff and students until she could notify them that most of the students were in the Great Hall for breakfast.

At 8 am, Minerva sent a Patronus from the small anteroom by the High Table; the Aurors were cleared to go.

Unbeknownst to all involved however, Quirrell had decided to take advantage of the students and staff being hidden away in the Great Hall and was planning to head into the Forbidden Forest for more unicorn blood. He was descending from his quarters on the fourth floor as the Aurors got the signal to head up to Quirrell’s quarters.

By a weird quirk of fate, Harry was ascending the stairs from Hufflepuff House alone that day. He’d promised to meet with Justin to go over an Astronomy assignment over breakfast, while Neville and Susan had opted for a slightly earlier breakfast and a trip to the library to begin exam revision.

In timing that could only be attributed to Murphy’s Law, or whatever its magical equivalent might be, Harry arrived at the top step of the stairs from the Hufflepuff lower level, as Quirrell stepped off the Grand Staircase, and a huge number (or so it seemed) of Aurors erupted from the reception room by the doors to the Great Hall.

Quirrell was instantly suspicious and grabbed for the nearest student, hooking his hand into the neck of the jumper the boy wore, not even realising it was Harry Potter he’d captured. He drew his wand as he hauled the student against him and dug it into the boy’s neck as he backed up a stair or two for improved sight lines over the Entrance Hall.

It was instantly a stand-off, particularly once Quirrell recognised the messy hair and stature of the Boy-Who-Lived, and he wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, dragging his hostage closer. Quirrell backed up a few more steps, knowing he’d be unable to be flanked on the staircase.

Madam Bones and Head Auror Scrimgeour attempted to negotiate with the half-feral professor. But his only demand was safe passage outside the castle wards and an untraceable International Portkey that only he could set the destination for, or the Boy-Who-Lived would become the Boy-Who-Didn’t.

Alerted by the ruckus, quite a few students attempted to exit the Great Hall. Kingsley Shacklebolt used a gentle, but solid, repulsing spell to push them back inside, and waved another Auror over to secure the doors.

Harry had stayed silent up until this point, knowing that struggling just increased his chances of not walking away from the situation. But as the minutes dragged on, and Quirrell just held him tighter, he knew he’d have to act. He spent a few moments recalling the self-defence techniques he’d learned in a primary school PE class, particularly the vulnerable points on an attacker’s body. Fortunately, Quirrell was quite short, and Harry had grown a decent amount since leaving the Dursleys, so he had ‘access’ to some of the more painful spots to hit.

His left arm was trapped by the hold Quirrell had around his waist, but his right arm was relatively free. Harry gave a quick strike backwards with his elbow, hitting Quirrell just below the diaphragm. He heard the ‘Oof’ as the air was knocked from the professor’s lungs, doubling the wizard over a little. This significantly freed up his left arm and allowed Harry to reach up with both hands, thumbs extended, as he went for the man’s eye sockets. Harry didn’t connect exactly but the palms of his hands struck Quirrell’s face, which was enough to have the man drop his grip.

What was strange though was not that Harry had struck a hard blow, but the intense burning in Harry’s hands, and the scream of agony that issued from his would-be kidnapper. Turning in place, Harry grabbed his attacker’s head again, knocking off the ridiculous turban as he did so. The burning was agonising, but adrenaline was pouring through his system and now he was mad. Quirrell wasn’t getting away with this.

The now-trapped professor shrieked in pain, trying to twist and turn out of the hands of the young boy he’d just held at wand point. Harry’s accidental magic came to his aid, overriding the excruciating pain in his hands, as both he and his attacker burned. He didn’t even hear the gasps of horror from the Aurors below, as Quirell twisted them both, so the back of his head was visible to the people below.

To their immense shock, the well-known visage of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named screamed almost as loudly as his host on the other side of his skull. They’d known that the man was likely possessed but no one had expected it was to this extent.

“Shall I stun them?” Kingsley shouted to Bones and Scrimgeour. The two thought for a moment and both called back, “No,” with Amelia adding, “We don’t know how Voldemort will react if we do.”

Meanwhile, Harry hung on for dear life, powered only by the strength of his magical core and an intense desire for self-preservation. The burns spread across Quirrell’s face and down his neck to his body, no longer powered by direct contact alone, and his screams reached an even higher pitch. Moments later, the burns reached the face on the back of the wizard’s head, and now there were two voices howling in agony.

All of a sudden, the screams stopped, and the body of Quirinus Quirrell dissolved into a pile of ashes, as a wailing wraith spun upwards into the air and out the open castle doors, eventually escaping into the Forbidden Forest. Harry collapsed to his knees, hands blood-red and blistered, then lost his connection with consciousness, slumping sideways against the stair bannisters.

Amelia rushed forward, flanked by Scrimgeour and Shacklebolt, while Gawain Robards unsealed the doors to the Great Hall, instantly threw up a shield to keep students back, and called for Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape (knowing the man would likely need to be brewing some specialty potions for this unique case). Minerva followed, even though not being called for, as she was nominally in charge of Hogwarts that morning, after whispering to Flitwick to keep the students contained in the Great Hall.

Madam Pomfrey cast a quick diagnostic spell, then conjured bandages to cover the burns on Harry’s hands, before levitating him onto the stretcher that a quick-thinking Professor Snape had transfigured. She headed up the stairs to the infirmary at double time, steering the stretcher carrying the unconscious boy with her wand, Snape, McGonagall and Madam Bones hard on her heels. Scrimgeour and the Auror Squad were left behind to gather what little evidence was left, and futilely try to track the wraith across the grounds and into the forest.

Madam Pomfrey and her entourage arrived in the infirmary, and Harry was levitated onto the bed he’d occupied only a few weeks before. The mediwitch unwrapped his hands gently and the four adults cringed at the sight. The boy’s hands were burnt so severely that the muscles and tendons were visible. The likelihood of permanent injury was high, even with wizarding healing strategies.

Poppy looked at Minerva and issued her orders. “Get his guardian here ASAP and have her contact the goblin Healers at Gringotts. This is more than I can handle, it’s more than St Mungo’s can handle. These burns are worse than any curse scar.” Minerva raced off to do her bidding.

“Severus, I need your strongest anti-infection salve. Let’s at least create a barrier for infection to get into the tissues, while we’re waiting. I think there’s some in my supplies, and bring sterile gauze bandages too, please.”

The normally prickly Potions Master didn’t baulk at being ordered around. He’d been deeply disturbed by the sight of such severe tissue damage to Lily’s son’s hands.

“Madam Bones, please fetch the camera from the cupboard by the main doors. I don’t know the circumstances of how Mr Potter was injured, but given you and the Aurors are here, it seems there should be some visual record of his injuries.”

Amelia raced across the room to retrieve the camera, as Poppy cast a more detailed diagnostic spell, and called out, “Severus, we need your Anti-Shock potion, a Blood Replenisher, and the strongest pain relief you can supply. He’s still registering the pain, despite being unconscious.”

Amelia and Severus shuddered in horror at her words, as Minerva emerged from Poppy’s office with Soraya in tow.

“Swifthorn will be here in a few minutes. She just needed to collect some supplies,” reported Harry’s guardian, as she raced to his bedside.

Minerva pulled up a chair behind her and pressed down on her shoulder to get Soraya to sit. She whispered in the younger woman’s ear, “Stroke his hair, his face. Keep talking to him, so he knows he’s not alone. It’ll help, believe me.” Soraya immediately began carding her hands through Harry’s hair and whispering reassurances in his ear.

Snape emerged from the storeroom, a tray of potions in his hands. “I took the liberty of bringing a couple of vials of Core Replenisher. If he didn’t strain his magical core during whatever caused these injuries, he certainly will do so in the healing process.”

Poppy and Minerva gave him strained smiles of approval, while Amelia photographically documented the worst signs of Harry’s injuries, the burned hands. She then photographed the other injuries as the mediwitch discovered them, the deep bruise emerging under his chin from being held at wand point, and as Poppy vanished Harry’s jumper and t-shirt, the rising bruises around his torso where he’d been grabbed and held.

Swifthorn appeared from Pomfrey’s office then and was immediately chanting over Harry’s body, performing her own diagnostic spells. Firelock, Ringstar and Ragnok, who’d been notified of Harry’s injuries by the Healer, gathered behind Soraya, unobtrusively staying clear of the mêlée, but offering quiet support to both of their friends.

The Guduriak Healer reached into her bag, which had to be magically expanded given the number of vials and other items she retrieved. She immediately slathered Harry’s hands with a thick unguent, that had an odd silvery tint and smelled of honey, before wrapping them in one layer of gauze bandages, adding a large flat crystal to the back of each hand, and then anchoring everything in place with thick cotton bandages, effectively swaddling the boy’s hands.

“The crystals will prevent the Dark magic from leeching further into the flesh and bones, but we need to cast it out in ritual. Only I don’t dare move the boy, he’s too shocky. Ragnok, bring me the ritual team, we’ll have to make do here.”

Swifthorn switched to Gudurian. “And have them bring the Arbasoen Harria to anchor the ritual. We need its power.” (Stone of the Ancestors)

Ragnok raced off as if he was the lowest messenger trainee at the bank and not the Buruzagi. He’d grown very fond of Harry over the last year, and the sight of him so terribly injured tore at his heart.

Swifthorn continued to make her preparations, directing Madam Pomfrey and Professor Snape to create a clear area to set up the ritual space and retrieve any additional items they could provide.

Amelia and Minerva moved over by the main doors, mostly to stay out of the way. The DMLE Head filled her friend in on what had happened in the Entrance Hall, including the fact that Quirrell had been carrying around the shade of Voldemort under his turban all year. Minerva gasped. “No wonder he was tempted by the Philosopher’s Stone. What in the world was Albus up to? He had to know something to bring the stone here.”

“That’s a question I’d really like answers to myself. Though I somehow doubt we’ll get a straight answer. Look, I need to go sort out what we’re doing next with the Auror Squad. And if someone hasn’t beaten me to it, Fudge is going to have to be told about Fold-a-dork being here in wraith form and possessing a professor. This day just keeps getting better and better.”

Amelia sighed heavily, then continued, “I’ll try to grab Susan and Neville and let them know Harry’s been hurt. They’re going to be battering the doors down if I don’t. One of us can let them know when they can visit Harry, though goodness knows when he’ll regain consciousness. He didn’t scream Minerva; he didn’t scream once with all that pain. What does that say about how he grew up? Ringstar is going to have a tonne of work to do with him over the summer, I can tell.”

“Yes, she will, but we’ll all get Harry through this. He’s going to see it as he killed the man, you know. That’s going to be a heavy burden.” Minerva paused in thought. “Send the children to me, I’ll get them in to see the boy as soon as the Healers allow. As close as those three are, even if Harry’s not awake, I think their presence will help him. And as an aside…if you think Fudge will be bad, just remember, I’ll have Albus on my back.”

Amelia patted her on the shoulder consolingly. “I suspect we’ll have them both here to deal with, before too long. I’m going to set a couple of Aurors to stand guard. You hold the wards right now, right?” Minerva nodded. “Can you limit access to the infirmary to only those given permission by yourself, Poppy and me?”

Minerva connected to the wards with her magic and set the commands. Oddly, it felt like the castle patted her on the back for doing so. It was a strange sensation that warmed her throughout.

“It’s done. And I included our Guduriak friends and any who come through the Floo from the Healer Department at Gringotts. Otherwise, Floo access is blocked to anyone else.”

“Good thinking, my friend. Well, I must get to it, much as I want to stay and watch over that young man. Wish me luck.”

With those words, Amelia exited the infirmary, squaring her shoulders for the tasks ahead. If one thing was certain, it was going to be a very long day.

Chapter 16

It only took the Guduriak Healers fifteen minutes to prepare the ritual space, and Severus and Minerva watched with interest, knowing it was a rare opportunity to witness such rites.

Harry was moved to a low cot in the centre of the rune circle, the sleeping draught ensuring he stayed still and asleep during the ritual.

Powerful crystals were placed at the head of his cot and tucked in along both sides of his body, while the Stone of the Ancestors was placed at his feet. The crystals were heavily charged with healing energy, and those witnessing could feel the power from the edges of the room where they’d been directed to sit.

Swifthorn led off with the chanting, a low droning sound, almost wordless, that reminded Severus of a time he’d heard a busker playing an Australian Aboriginal didgeridoo in London a decade before. The chanting continued for nearly twenty-five minutes, sometimes rising in pitch or volume, but never with identifiable words to those listening.

As the ritual progressed, a soft pearlescent glowing ball formed around Harry’s hands, the intensity and lustre reacting to the rise and fall of the chant. Perhaps five minutes before the end, the ball left Harry’s hands and slowly moved up to Harry’s head, before sliding down his body to his feet, making minute moves as it went. When the ball reached Harry’s feet, much duller in its sheen, it hovered over the large Ancestral Stone at the bottom of the cot, before seemingly being sucked into the rock, and disappearing.

Swifthorn ended the chant, then clapped her hands twice, and the ritual circle markings disappeared from the infirmary floor. The other Healers packed up their equipment silently, levitated a still-sleeping Harry back to his hospital bed, and then left without speaking via Poppy’s Floo.

Poppy was waved over by Swifthorn, and Soraya and the others followed closely, anxious to hear the news of how the ritual went.

Swifthorn gave her report, “We have regrown all the burnt skin on Mr Potter’s hands and healed any underlying tissue damage. He will have nearly full dexterity and movement as soon as he wakes, but the skin will be very tender for quite some time. He will need to exercise his hands to regain completely normal dexterity.”

Soraya half-collapsed against the bed behind her with relief at that news. Minerva patted her shoulder consolingly.

Swifthorn continued, “I will check Mr Potter each morning to observe his hands and their healing. Madam Pomfrey, I ask you to do the same each evening. His core depletion has only been partially corrected. Too much would overload his core and his brain. Give him the pain potions every six hours, he’ll need them.” At that, Swifthorn turned, headed towards the Floo in Madam Pomfrey’s office.

Ragnok called out, in a tone that was equally Buruzagi and friend to the patient, “When might we hope for young Harry to wake, Sendagilea (Healer) Swifthorn ?”

“I’d be shocked if it was any earlier than twenty-four hours from now, Buruzagi. For most, it would be closer to two days. But with that young man? Perhaps tomorrow, around mid-morning. His magic is a magnificent healer, but this will have challenged it greatly.”

With that pronouncement, Swifthorn departed. She might put on a tough face, but after the morning she’d had, healing a gaztea (young man) she was very fond of, it had been exceedingly rough. If it wasn’t for staying on-call for his care, it goes without saying that there would have been a shot or two of her strongest whiskya (whiskey) with her lunch that day.

Not so strangely, a certain Scottish Deputy Headmistress was thinking similar thoughts. She planned murderous plots much better with a little lubrication, and a certain old goat’s actions warranted some homicidal scheming.

~0~0~

Unfortunately for Minerva, she didn’t get the chance to devise a creatively permanent solution for her boss. Just before noon, a tumultuous noise arose from just outside the infirmary doors, as it became apparent that certain persons didn’t consider the rules of access to the sick room applied to them.

Slipping out behind the Auror guards, Minerva cast a wordless Silencio, much to everyone’s relief, for an Albus Dumbledore in a state of high dudgeon was greatly annoying. The Headmaster went to push between the Aurors, intent on forcing his Deputy to allow him into the infirmary. However, the glare from Minerva’s eyes, along with a raised eyebrow that just asked him to make a move so she could stun him, halted the man in his tracks.

Not releasing Dumbledore from his silenced state, McGonagall pre-empted all his arguments. “You may only enter the infirmary Albus, if Poppy, Amelia and I give permission together. Poppy is busy, as is Amelia, and I’m planning on there being nothing and no one that stops that boy from healing from his ordeal. And I included you on that list.”

Minerva paused, hearing another approaching ruckus. “Ahh, the dulcet tones of our Minister for Magic. Well. you might as well stay put, Headmaster, that way I can deliver the same message to the pair of you.”

The pair of Aurors, not sure whether to enjoy or cringe at the blunt message being delivered by the witch in front of them, stood taller at the arrival of Minister Fudge but knew they’d be backing Professor McGonagall in any altercation. They’d seen what the young lad had gone through, the severe pain of his injuries, and without once crying out. They’d protect Harry as if he was a child of their own.

To the Aurors’ amazement (and barely disguised delight), not only did Professor McGonagall have no difficulty silencing the incoming Fudge, she threatened him with Incarcerous if he kept trying to push his way into the hospital wing. Eventually, the portly Minister subsided into sub-vocal mutterings, when he realised, he was never going to win this argument.

“Now that you’re quiet, gentleman, and I do use that term advisedly, let me establish some facts for you. Mister Potter is unconscious, and likely to remain so for the next twenty-four hours or more. He is unable to provide either of you with any information relevant to the presence of Aurors in the castle, or the fate of Professor Quirrell. I would direct you to Madam Bones or Head Auror Scrimgeour for that.”

She glared once more at the two ’eminent’ wizards before her.

“Mr Potter’s injuries were severe enough for his guardian to request specialty Healers. He has received the necessary medical care and is expected to make a full recovery. He is not on the local sightseeing tour, so there is no need for either of you to have sight of the boy until he wishes to have visitors, and his guardian gives leave for you to be there as well. Nor do either of you have the right to confidential Healer records. So, I am assuming you will both be talking to the Ministry employees in the castle right now, who actually witnessed the events of the morning?”

Minerva didn’t even wait for them to reply non-verbally. She simply pulled her wand and asked if they needed her to cast a point-me spell for the pair to find their way back to the Entrance Hall, where they might follow up with the authorities in charge who actually had all the answers. A dismissive wave of her hand sent the wizards on their way. To add insult injury, McGonagall didn’t cancel the silencing spell until the duo was halfway to the Entrance Hall

~0~0~

It was indeed another full day before Harry woke up. Soraya had stayed by his side for the night, along with Ringstar, who was more attached to the young wizard than even she had realised before the events of the previous day. Susan and Neville had been permitted a brief visit Saturday afternoon and had promised to come back after breakfast, bringing their homework assignments to work on, while waiting for their friend to come back to life.

Late morning, Harry began to show signs of rousing, though unfortunately, he was also showing signs of pain. Swifthorn, who’d arrived around 10 am and announced she was staying until the boy was awake, requested a moderate pain relief draught from Madam Pomfrey. She spelled it directly into Harry’s stomach, which had the near-immediate effect of settling him down and letting him wake more naturally. The Guduriak Healer had also changed the dressings on his hands while Harry was still asleep, applying a salve to help soften the minimal scarring that remained and relieve some of the tenderness that would be present for a while to come.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Soraya spoke softly to Harry, who was looking at her, then around the infirmary, in a rather confused fashion.

“Um, what happened,” Harry replied, a rather quizzical look remaining on his face.

“Do you remember coming up to breakfast yesterday morning?” Madam Pomfrey took over the questioning.

They could also see Harry working hard to pull the events out of a still very muddled brain.

“Professor Quirrell grabbed me, and then the Aurors all had their wands out. I used some self-defence skills they taught us in primary school to get away. But then, when I grabbed his face…” Harry’s voice trailed off as the rest of the events began to become clearer in his mind.

Ringstar came up on Harry’s other side, Mind Healer hat firmly in place, “You don’t have to talk about what you remember right now Harry. It’s alright to wait until you’re more awake, maybe had something to eat. You must be pretty hungry right now. You skipped breakfast and lunch, and dinner…and breakfast again!”

Harry’s eyes bugged out a little over that litany of missed meals. What in the world had been going on, in all that time?

“But don’t worry, Madam Pomfrey has some lovely tricks for getting food inside sleeping young witches and wizards, so we haven’t been depriving you too badly.” Ringstar was keen to ensure her mild joke didn’t lead Harry to revisit his time with the Dursleys.

“While Madam Pomfrey is rustling you up something for lunch, perhaps you’d like to say hello to a couple of friends of yours. They’ve been pretty anxious to see you, and I think they’d like to stay for lunch with you, if that would be okay, Poppy?” Soraya waved over Neville and Susan, who’d been working at a small table out of the way of the healing staff, and they raced over, glad to see their friend awake at last.

The trio settled down into a rapid chatter of what assignments they were working on and what would soon be due, in the few minutes it took for the house-elves to get food up to the infirmary. After a quick dash by Harry to the bathroom, the first years sat around the table, enjoying Harry’s favourite shepherd’s pie, with there being the promise of treacle tart for dessert if he ate well enough.

Soraya cast a privacy spell as the two witches and two Healers prepared to discuss handling how to manage Harry’s memories of, and response to, the death of Professor Quirrell.

“We need to have Amelia here, or at least mirror-box call her,” Soraya began. “I’d say it’s fairly obvious that Harry recalls essentially everything that happened. The only question is how much he saw and understood about the Fold-a-dork wraith inhabiting that turban, and what he needs and should know at this time. I almost expected a visit before now, warning us of what we can and cannot say, to tell you the truth.”

“Speak of the devil,” Poppy chimed in, as Amelia Bones emerged from her office, having obviously come through the Floo that was still locked down with the same parameters as the day before.

“Susan sent an alert via her mirror-box and let me know that Harry was awake. Don’t worry, I haven’t turned into a seer all of a sudden.” The ladies gathered snickered at her words.

Ringstar filled Amelia in on the fact it appeared Harry recalled some, if not all, of the attack by Quirrell, and raised the question of what could and should be told to the lad.

“Why do we let wizards have anything to do with politics, or law enforcement for that matter? As far as I’m concerned, it’s a no-brainer as Susan would say. THI isn’t gone, as we all know from the Horcrux situation. And while we haven’t shared that information with the Wizengamot or Ministry for very good reasons (not the least of which is they leak like a sieve), it’s more than apparent from the Pensieve memories we’ve collected as evidence, that Quirrell was being possessed by the wraith of Fold-a-dork. It’s also obvious that the wraith escaped, and will thus be able to possess another being, human or otherwise. But our ‘esteemed’ Minister thinks that we need to just pass this off as a regular possession, whatever that might be, and essentially cover the whole event up.”

Minerva appeared through the infirmary doors at this point. “I gather Fudge is being as pig-headed as Albus?” she asked, having caught the tail end of Amelia’s comments.

“He wants to bury his head in the sand about the implications of a certain dark wizard that isn’t entirely dead, and I’m guessing Albus is thinking he’s the only one who can manage the situation and knows just what would be best for the ‘Greater Good’. And neither one is spending even half a thought on what this all means for Harry, and how he’s going to have to deal with the fallout of this mess.”

“That sounds like a fair summary of the events. Right now, the rumours in the school are that Quirrell was wanted for questioning for some illegal practice, and grabbed Harry as a hostage, which resulted in the boy being injured and spending the night in the infirmary. But we have a problem, it seems that we all forgot the ghosts might have observed, and Peeves has been making comments along the lines of “Squirrely Quirrelly, all burned up. Foldy Voldy went up in smoke”. So far, it’s only been Filius who’s heard the poltergeist spouting off, and you know he’ll keep things quiet, particularly when we fill him in on the details. But we’re going to have to get the Bloody Baron to put a gag on Peeves, and there are no guarantees that’ll hold forever.” Minerva was beyond frustrated at the long-standing irritation of the little demon, and wondered, not for the first time, why she’d never surreptitiously arranged for an exorcism.

“So, what’s the best option for Harry right now?” Soraya asked. “Do we tell him about what happened to Quirrell and that he was possessed? He’s aware of the Horcruxes, so he knows Fold-a-dork isn’t dead completely. But I can see him being pretty frightened of being the next target for possession, as well. Not to mention, how do we help him handle the professor literally burning to ash in front of him?”

“I have a solution for the possession issue,” Swifthorn interjected. “And as for the rest, for all that he’s only eleven, he’s a pretty level-headed young man.”

That was high praise indeed from the blunt-spoken Guduriak Healer.

Swifthorn continued, “I’d say trust him with the information, and his two friends there as well, if you think it’s safe, so that he has some support, and then let him get on with being a boy in his first year of school. Now as to the protections, I have a new band for his watch. It’s essentially an amulet used to prevent possession. Our Egyptian Curse-Breaking teams use them extensively, and they’ve never failed yet. But this part about how he’ll handle Quirrell dying? I’m dumping that in your lap, Ringstar. Now, I’ll give the boy one more check-over, and then I’ll head back to Gringotts. I’m sure there’s work piling up for me. Best that I stop idling here, gossiping with you lot like an old woman.”

Ringstar chuckled inwardly, not letting the older Healer hear her amusement. Swifthorn might be a touch on the brusque side, but anyone could see she had rather a soft spot for Harry.

“Well, we need to get Augusta on the mirror-box. No need to set the Kneazle completely amongst the Puffskeins by bringing her here to the castle. It’d be more than my life was worth to tell Neville about something as dire as Foldy (thank you Peeves for putting that into my brain) without talking to her first.”

Minerva was legitimately nervous to consider such a thing. Augusta Longbottom had a long-justified reputation for fierceness where her family was involved, particularly since the attack that put Neville’s parents permanently into St Mungo’s.

It wasn’t a long discussion between the two witches. Augusta had been informed of Saturday’s disaster by both Neville and Minerva and had made sure to get all the rest of the details from Amelia in an indecently early Floo call already that morning. She wasn’t keen on her only grandson knowing that the wraith had escaped Auror capture, guessing Neville would fear being the next target.

But she’d not leave her grandson unprotected through lack of knowledge, and now that she knew the Guduriak Healers had an option to protect the children, she’d likely be at Gringotts within the hour, ordering Neville his very own watch and band. Which was exactly the case. In fact, she made it there in forty-eight minutes, if anyone had wanted to run a betting pool. It was too bad, Minerva pondered later, that they hadn’t done just that.

~0~0~

It was Sunday evening. There’d been another couple of go-rounds with Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore before Amelia had time enough to Fire-call her old friend and IWC Magister Ellie Baros. Giving her the update on the unsuccessful attempt at arresting Quirrell, and the subsequent outcome of the man’s assault on Harry Potter, Amelia then filled her in, friend to friend only, on the existence of the wraith, in addition to the Horcruxes.

Expressing shock that the dark wizard had split himself into pieces so thoroughly, Ellie enquired as to their theories behind such an extreme reaction to the boy’s touch, as well as how DMLE was handling the mess.

“Head Unspeakable Croaker is inclined to believe that Harry gained some special protections against Fold-a-dork thanks to his parents’ sacrifice. We know accidental magic, even in adults, can be incredibly powerful when coming to the aid of someone who is beloved, likely more so in the protection of one’s own child. Buruzagi Ragnok’s ritual experts seem to be of a similar opinion. At least that’s the working theory for now. As for how much protection it would offer the boy, were Foldy to regain a body and full power? Your guess is as good as ours.”

Amelia poured herself a glass of red wine and settled more comfortably onto the very low chaise she kept for long Floo calls.

“As to how we’re managing the fallout from this? The party line is that Professor Quirrell picked up a parasitic condition that led to his erratic behaviour and spontaneous combustion. Oh, and Mr Potter became injured trying to extinguish the flames using Muggle methods, given how he was raised.” Amelia grimaced at the tall tale.

“That’s terrible, even for Fudge and Dumbledore. And the reason for the DMLE presence? I’m sure this will be equally as good,” Ellie deadpanned, with a hefty dose of sarcasm.

“Oh, well we were following up on the reports of some creature attacking unicorns in the Forbidden Forest and just happened to arrive at the critical moment that Quirrell became an incendiary device. Pure happenstance of course. And wasn’t it a good thing we were there in time to help with crowd control with the students?” Amelia’s sarcasm was equally heavy.

Ellie snorted at that. “You know, I’m pretty sure that’s thinner than the filo pastry that my Yaya used to make baklava with.”

The English witch groaned; she had very fond memories of that baklava. Ellie used to share her treats from home when they studied together for a year in Paris.

“You’ll get no arguments from me, Ellie. But this is what happens when we let wizards be in charge. We’ll see if it holds up when the Daily Prophet comes out tomorrow. Though it wouldn’t surprise me if Fudge puts pressure on the editor to have the story read just as he wants it to. I suppose it keeps the hysterical crowds at bay. Hunting for the Horcruxes could get very difficult if even a hint of their existence got out.”

Her friend nodded in agreement at those sentiments, then asked, “So how does Albus explain that he failed to notice he has a possessed staff member in the castle for the better part of a year?”

Amelia smirked, a look that had made more than a few of her rivals and underlings shudder a little. “Oh. we’ll likely have Dumbledore on a short leash after this. Augusta Longbottom tells me that between having a Foldy-possessed professor on staff, along with what we found regarding the Philosopher’s Stone and the state of the wards over the Easter break…he’s in for some uncomfortable meetings with the Board of Governors for the foreseeable future.”

“Couldn’t happen to a nicer fellow,” the Magister responded with a rather evil snigger. “Okay, now I want all the details of just what’s been going on at Hogwarts. If the formidable Augusta Longbottom is up in arms, it has to be good!”

Both witches topped up their wine glasses, then settled in for a long, and far-ranging gossip session (er, discussion). As Amelia took a deep sip of her Burgundy, she reflected she was long overdue for some time with friends and a break from the Ministry (and its fools). Perhaps Ellie would enjoy a trip to Portugal this summer. They’d been meaning to go back for years, and Susan would enjoy the holiday as well.

~0~0~

Harry spent all of Sunday in the infirmary, with Neville and Susan there until mid-afternoon, when they’d been sent off to give Harry a rest break. In truth, the young wizard didn’t look or feel terribly tired, but both Ringstar and Soraya had come to know him pretty well and could read the signs of his rising anxiety.

Harry shot the pair a grateful look, then took the bull by the horns.

“Now I’m properly awake, can you tell me what happened with the professor? I remember him grabbing me when the Aurors raced out of one of the side rooms. And he had his wand dug right under my chin. Then he started back up the stairs and all I could think was where’s he taking me? Susan’s auntie and some of the other Aurors tried to talk him into letting me go, but he just grabbed me tighter and kept trying to yank me up the stairs.”

Harry’s voice was becoming faster and higher pitched, and with a rising breathlessness as the panic from the memories started to take over.

Soraya went to grab him into a hug, but Ringstar waved her back, wanting to prevent further escalation of Harry’s alarm.

Speaking with a low, even tone, she commanded, “Harry, I want you to tell me five things that you can see.”

When the boy just stared with a glazed look, each breath becoming more of a pant, the Mind Healer repeated, touching one hand to Harry’s knee to ground him, “Tell me five things that you can see, Harry.”

Almost startled, Harry darted quick glances around the room. “Bed, window, curtains, chair, door.”

“Now tell me four things you can touch, Harry,” was Ringstar’s next direction.

“Um, the blanket, the table, the pillow, and my pyjamas.” A touch calmer, he smoothed his hand over the blanket covering his legs.

Keeping her tone calm, Ringstar then asked, “Now can you tell me three things you can hear.”

“Someone talking in the corridor, Madam Pomfrey shutting the cupboard door, um…oh your voice.” By now, Harry’s panic-stricken look was settling into a much calmer state, and his breaths were deeper and more regular.

“One last question should do it…what are two things you can smell?”

Harry thought for a few seconds, a reflection of how much calmer he’d become. “The salve on my hands…and…and…oh I know, the disinfectant they use to clean. It’s a bit strong!”

Ringstar laughed a little. “I think we can skip the one thing you can taste question. Your mind’s not racing like you’re in the Muggle Olympics any longer, Harry. Are you feeling more settled?”

Harry took a sip of his favourite orange, pineapple and passionfruit juice that always appeared when the Buruzagi had been close by. “I can taste that Ragnok’s been here.”

Ringstar and Soraya giggled a little at the slight cheekiness, happy to see the boy regaining his calm.

Harry continued to speak, “Professor Quirrell is dead, isn’t he? Somehow, we both got burnt when I grabbed him to try to escape. Only my hands hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt…and he, he burned up, didn’t he? Am I in trouble with the Aurors? ‘Cos doesn’t this mean I killed him somehow with my magic?”

Harry’s breath rate began to rise again, and this time Ringstar signalled Soraya to sit beside the boy and offer a gentle hug.

“Harry, we think that you probably lost consciousness before you saw everything that happened,” Ringstar explained. “But it turns out that Quirrell had somehow gotten himself possessed by Foldy, probably before the start of the school year. We think your parents’ protective magic, that you’ll carry with you always, interacted with the wraith that lived under that dreadful turban. You got caught in the middle and got burned, and so did Quirrell. But because he’d let himself be controlled, and basically fed off of, for so long, his burns were not survivable.”

“So, it wasn’t anything I did really? I was just trying to get away. And what happened to that wraith thing?” Harry still desperately needed reassurance that he wasn’t responsible for the professor’s demise.

“Harry, you saw the chance to get away and took it. That was a very smart move there. The thing is, none of the Aurors, no one on the Horcrux team, ever saw this coming. The Aurors suspected the man was possessed and a danger to the unicorns, but nobody even considered it could be a tiny piece of Foldy. And truthfully, now he’s weaker than ever because that wraith is going to struggle to find the power to possess another magical being.”

Soraya paused, checking to see how her words were being received. “You know, there’s a good chance it won’t be able to take over anything bigger than say…oh a housefly or something ridiculous like that. So, I don’t think either of us has anything to worry about, do you? Though remind me to buy a fly swatter the next time we go shopping, would you?”

Soraya’s silly humour broke the tension in the room, and she felt Harry relax against her side.

“Now, anything else worrying you, Harry?” Ringstar could tell there was just an edge of anxiety remaining.

Harry brought up his hands, now under much less bulky dressings that allowed him some ability to grasp. “Are my hands going to be okay? They feel…umm, kinda funny. Like they sort of don’t belong to me quite as I’m used to.”

“Well unfortunately those burns were pretty bad. But Swifthorn saved the day, and you got some brand spanking new skin to cover the damage that she had to heal below. The nerves are still settling down, and chances are you’re going to be pretty tender for a bit. But she promised you’ll be back to normal in a few weeks, and they’ll work just perfectly. Might cramp your Quidditch style for a little bit, but we think you’ll be right as rain by the end of term.”

Ringstar was pretty good at explaining things Harry decided, not for the first time. It made him think back to his first visits to Gringotts, where he’d managed to be befriended by his Guduriak companions. Sometimes it didn’t bear contemplating just how different life would have been if he’d never been able to get away from Hagrid that first trip to the bank. If he’d somehow gone through all of this ordeal, with only his school friends to rely on, it would have been so much tougher to cope with.

On that thought, he gave Soraya another hearty hug, then turned and did the same to Ringstar. And somehow neither needed an explanation for his sudden affection, they both accepted the hugs readily. Which was yet another thing Harry was thankful for, all things considered.

~0~0~

The final few weeks of term passed by relatively uneventfully for the students, though not necessarily for a certain Headmaster. DADA classes were being covered by Betram Aberwold, an Auror who had been forced into retirement after losing an eye to a dark curse. He’d chosen to leave the Auror department rather than end up looking like the renowned (and now retired) Mad-Eye Moody if he continued on the job. The students found him to be a decent instructor, who worked hard to cover the massive gaps in the year’s teaching, if a little uninspired in his presentation of the material.

Harry and Co continued to meet regularly, enjoying their studying and social times, in the room that was now positively cosy thanks to the work of the house-elves.

The lead first years, Harry, Susan, Neville, Padma and Dean had approached their respective Heads of House to halfway sheepishly admit that they’d been building their own cross-House common room/study area/practice room, only to find they were more than aware of it. It seems house-elves only kept things a secret if you asked them to…and it wasn’t against school rules or the students’ best interests.

The professors agreed the room would remain available to the group for the following year, which was what everyone had been worried about. They suggested having an older student available to supervise if the group practised more complicated spells, which everyone agreed was a sensible move. The friends were delighted when the Weasley twins and Cedric Diggory agreed to help out, even if the teachers shuddered at the inclusion of the twins. But the feather in the group’s cap was the awarding of twenty points to each of the three Houses, for encouraging inter-House cooperation.

~0~0~

Harry’s hands continued to give him some trouble, despite the Guduriak made healing salves and nerve potions. He became pretty frustrated by mid-June when he still couldn’t grip his broom handle comfortably, not to mention he also had to really pull back from putting the finishing touches on his and Neville’s community garden projects for the Herbology club. He even found gripping his wand in class to cause trouble some days.

He had more than a few sessions with Ringstar, both in person and via mirror-box, to deal with his frustration. Harry was a boy used to dealing with pain thanks to the Dursleys, but often his magic had healed him relatively quickly. Which was good, considering medical care was non-existent for him at Number Four Privet Drive. So this long, drawn-out debility was quite a struggle for the eleven-year-old.

Swifthorn did her best with her salves and potions, and even collaborated with Professor Snape on refining the recipes. The Potions Master was secretly thrilled about the experience, being the first wizard in living memory to be given the opportunity to learn from and work with a Guduriak Master Healer.

As the two worked together, the Head of Slytherin learned quite a bit about the history of the Guduriak, and their potions work and Healing techniques. Severus privately resolved never to disparage the race or their name ever again. And in truth, they were an ideal pair to work hand in hand, given they both had rather brusque and no-nonsense personalities, neither suffering fools gladly in the slightest.

In the end, the cooperative effort paid off, to a large degree. They were able to tweak what was being prescribed to Harry enough that he was able to participate in class more easily, and with the use of extra soft and supple dragonhide gloves, he was even able to fly a little and dig in the garden plot.

But as the pair worked, Harry also kept working with Ringstar to manage his frustration levels, as well as continue to work through the anxiety, guilt and nightmares that tended to arise with little warning, as aftermaths of the attack.

The moment of greatest challenge was when Dumbledore and Minister Fudge insisted on interviewing Harry about the incident, nearly two weeks later. But before they could utter a word to the boy, gathered as they were in the antechamber off the Great Hall, Amelia had entered the room, citing an interest in any new details of the case that might emerge.

She was followed half a minute later by Soraya, who insisted she must be present as Harry’s guardian. Then Ringstar arrived, and argued that she needed to be there, as Harry’s Mind Healer, to deal with his latent anxiety, and to cap it all off, Ragnok appeared, wearing his metaphorical Buruzagi hat, and arguing his presence was necessary due to Harry’s protected status at Gringotts.

Needless to say, it was a very short, and entirely unsatisfying interview from the perspective of the Headmaster and Minister for Magic, and they cut it short after about twenty minutes of continual disruption to their questions by Harry’s supporters. The frustrated pair departed in a huff, leaving Harry to enjoy a round of solid hugs from the protective adults he’d grown so close to. And to later thank Neville for calling in the troops when Harry had been waylaid by the two older wizards as he was trying to leave the Great Hall after breakfast.

~~~○●○●○~~~

Others came to the aid of the young wizard as well. Soraya stayed in almost daily contact with Harry via the mirror-boxes, once he was released from the infirmary two days after Quirrell’s kidnapping attempt. At Ringstar and Madam Pomfrey’s request, she also showed up, picnic lunch in hand, when the weather was nice enough to get outside on the weekends, and always managed to have enough food (or a good in with the Hogwarts house-elves to provide extras) for whoever wanted to join the impromptu picnics amongst Harry’s friends.

It went without saying of course, that Neville and Susan attended every time. While everyone in the Harry & Co group was a bit protective of their youngest friend, his two friends from the first train ride to Hogwarts stood staunchly beside him. Even when Harry seemed depressed and uninterested in any class or fun activities, they stood their ground, frequently managing to coax the boy into a better frame of mind.

Other helpers popped up along the way as well. Amelia Bones took the time to answer any questions she could about the investigation into how Quirrell became possessed, and reassured Harry whenever he needed it, that he’d done no harm himself, he’d only acted in self-defence.

Ragnok spoke with Harry several times a week, telling stories of his Potter grandparents and great-grandparents, who he’d known personally, which helped Harry feel more grounded and a true part of the magical community. Though the idea that Ragnok had known the Potters for close to a century caused the young wizard to revisit his first impression of the Gringotts head. Harry distinctly remembered thinking Ragnok was on the youngish side of middle age. Which begged the question: Just how old was Ragnok? Sadly, Harry’s courage failed him every time he thought of asking the Buruzagi that question.

Another consistent mirror-box correspondent was Firelock. As Ringstar’s husband, he was more aware than most that Harry was having difficulties coming to terms with recent events. Not that Ringstar broke her promise of confidentiality with the boy, but simply Firelock was excellent at observation and knew the number of times his wife received work-related mirror-box calls and messages. It was no great effort to deduce Harry was struggling.

So, Firelock appointed himself Chief Entertainment Officer for the coming summer break. He spent hours describing the different Enlabeak around the world, and some of the Muggle and Wizarding sites and cities that were located above. Having paid very close attention to where Harry’s interest was drawn, Firelock promised to plan out some trips to surprise locations during the summer holidays. He also had loads of ideas for fun days to spend in the London Enklabe and even had some discussions with Soraya on Muggle and magical outings around Britain.

Firelock was also instrumental in ensuring Soraya wouldn’t be penalised for missing work time to spend with Harry over the summer, assuring her that as a Gringotts-protected wizard, caring for Harry was just as important as any of her Warding duties, which relieved the younger witch’s anxiety about her job considerably.

Despite being married since finishing their respective apprenticeships, Ringstar and Firelock had never been able to have children, even with the intervention of the best Healers. Firelock had become attached to Harry from the first day they’d met, and it had taken very little for Ringstar to follow suit. Though somewhere between Harry’s parents and grandparents in age, they felt entirely parental towards the young wizard, and deeply invested in his happiness.

While some guardians might have become jealous of the older couple and their role in Harry’s life, Soraya welcomed their involvement and interest. It was hard not to, when they all watched the boy blossom with all this care and attention, after so many years of neglect and abuse.

By the time end-of-year exams rolled around, Harry’s hands were much less troubling, which let him perform well on the practical exams. Likewise, his mind and anxiety were much more settled, which meant he sailed through the written exams fairly easily. The last week of school found Harry & Co with a period of leisure quite unknown to Harry in his years growing up. The students happily enjoyed the clear, early summer weather and an unseasonably warm patch even permitted swimming in the Black Lake under Hagrid’s supervision. Meanwhile, the professors madly marked exams and practicals for five of the seven years of students, thankful at least the OWL and NEWT examiners took the fifth and seventh years off their hands.

~0~0~

As the students enjoyed their week of rest and recreation, Headmaster Dumbledore came the closest he ever had to spending the rest of his life in such activities.

The Hogwarts Board of Governors had been meeting at an unprecedented frequency all of the third term, as the discovery over Easter of highly dangerous creatures in the school, the terrible state of the school wards, the presence of the Philosopher’s Stone and its obvious use as a trap for dark wizards all warranted in-depth discussions.

The attempted capture and subsequent death of Quirellmort (as he was rapidly titled in the group of twelve Governors) added considerable fuel to the flames, eventually leading to Dumbledore being called before the entire Board.

In the last week of the school year, the Headmaster found himself on the back foot. He’d talked to the Board the day that Quirrell had died and felt he’d acquitted himself well in explaining the state of the school wards. If he hadn’t taken any real or personal responsibility for their condition, blaming previous Headmasters, financial constraints hanging on from the war with Voldemort, and difficulty dealing with the goblins, well…he was Albus Dumbledore, and he had other demands on his time. He couldn’t be expected to manage everything perfectly.

So, it goes without saying, he was entirely shocked to find himself standing before the Board like an errant schoolboy, to answer charges of negligence and dereliction of duty as Headmaster of Hogwarts.

When presented with all the evidence that had been accumulated over the last several months, he was deeply dismayed to find they’d even questioned his integrity. He tried to use his disappointed grandfather look on the assembled body to get them to back off, and it was very disconcerting to find it didn’t work in the slightest.

In the end, he managed to talk the Board of Governors down from firing him, something even the most hopeful on the Board thought was a pie-in-the-sky wish, but no one was telling Albus that. It was a tool used to force the stubborn wizard to make concessions and permit more oversight of the school and its leader.

In some ways, from Dumbledore’s point of view, it would have been less ignominious if he’d actually been sacked. Instead, he was presented with an Individualised Action Plan to correct some of the long-term issues with his actions as Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The Board of Governors had considered forcing him to relinquish his roles with the Wizengamot and ICW, but a close examination of the Hogwarts Charter did not support the Board having the power to take such actions. So, Augusta had arranged a meeting with Ragnok and Firelock, knowing they had extensive experience with managing subpar employees, and had come out with a slew of notes and recommendations.

Based on Ragnok’s s suggestions, the Board had put forth the following requirements for Dumbledore’s continued employment:

• Primary control of the school wards would be relinquished to Minerva McGonagall, as her continuous presence within the Hogwarts boundaries would ensure prompt attention to any alerts received through the wards. Albus Dumbledore would take the secondary alert position due to his frequent absences from the school.
• McGonagall would have control of the maintenance and management of the wards, and be allocated discretionary income sufficient to repair, maintain and upgrade the wards per her judgement alone.
• Dumbledore would be permitted to solicit for and recommend candidates for open teaching positions, but interviews for employment would be performed by a panel of three Heads of House. Filius Flitwick and Minerva McGonagall would be appointed as standing members. The third position would be filled by either Pomona Sprout or Severus Snape based on availability. As both of those professors routinely performed additional duties, such as brewing potions for the school and managing the greenhouses, they wouldn’t be required to sit in on every interview.
• Albus Dumbledore would be required to complete all of the paperwork and administrative duties associated with the Headmaster’s role or pay for an administrative assistant out of his own salary. Minerva McGonagall would no longer be permitted to complete any duties assigned specifically to the Headmaster.

In principle, Albus now had a clear set of expectations for his performance as Headmaster, and he’d received a formal job description, just in case he was unclear about the Board of Governors’ expectations.

In practice, this would put more oversight in place by the Governors, because they also placed Albus on probation. He would undergo random inspections throughout the next school year, to ensure he was keeping up with his own duties and adhering to all school policies and regulations. Dumbledore had never felt so demeaned in his life, and well deserved the label ‘grumpy old goat’ that was assigned to him by the school’s house-elves, tired of being yelled at just because Headmaster Dumbles was in trouble.

The one upside to Dumbledore’s trials and tribulations was that he had no time or energy to harass, or truthfully pay the least bit of attention to young Mr Potter. While the adults in Harry’s life knew that Dumbledore must have his own plans for Harry’s life, which likely foreshadowed his early demise and Albus’ glory, no one was the slightest bit upset that the Headmaster was thoroughly distracted and left the Boy-Who-Lived entirely alone.

~0~0~

The last day of term was warm and breezy. There were a few scattered clouds, but that just made the summer sky more beautiful. Harry and his friends spent the morning outdoors, enjoying time to just hang out by the Black Lake. Some plans were made for the coming summer break, but they were more the lazy what about or what if sort of suggestions. The nice thing about a long train ride the next day, along with everyone having access to the mirror-box network, was that there was no urgency to do really anything that day.

Inspired by Soraya’s impromptu picnics with Harry and his friends, at the last staff meeting of the term, Pomona Sprout talked with Minerva about having the house-elves serve lunch alfresco by the lake. The other professors agreed this was a capital idea and wondered why they’d never thought of this before.

Filius suggested a barbecue, if the house-elves felt up to the task, and this was met with enthusiastic approval by Jonty, the Head House-elf. So, by late morning on the last day, the sunning students were treated to quite the sight. The small army of house-elves, rarely seen by the other inhabitants of the school, had a long line of barbecue plates settled over hot coals, with sausages, chicken satays, veggie kebabs and lamb chops sizzling away. A generous selection of salads was laid out, along with buttered bread for those wishing to make their own sandwiches, and a variety of desserts completed the food offerings.

The student response was enthusiastic to say the least, and when the outgoing Headgirl and Headboy stood up to offer their thanks to the house-elves not just for the fantastic meal, but all of their work over the entire year, it was followed by the entire school standing and raising their glasses to toast the Hogwarts house-elves. There were many blushes and shy smiles from said house-elves, but it was a stellar moment in their year as well. As a race of beings, they might love being needed by and useful to wizardkind, but being actually thanked was a very special moment indeed.

The Leaving Feast that evening was almost anticlimactic, after the wonderful day outdoors. Most of the students had put off packing in order to enjoy the last of their time with their friends, and the wonderful weather. So many in the assembled body were rather anxious for Dumbledore to finish his end-of-year speech and get back to their dorms for last-minute chores.

The Headmaster, having declined to join the lunch party, couldn’t understand quite why his speech seemed to be so flat that year, nor why the students didn’t linger over dessert as long as they usually did. The rest of the professors shared knowing glances and sly grins. They’d enjoyed the day outdoors just as much as the students had and had been gladdened to see them shrug off the slight pall that had hung over the last few weeks of the term, following Quirrell’s death. Most departed to their own offices or quarters shortly after, having their own end-of-year tasks to complete, leaving Dumbledore to his throne at the head table, all alone.

~0~0~

Harry was one of the Hufflepuff first years who had gotten almost completely packed before the Leaving Feast, so he spent part of the time helping his friends, and the other half taking one last walk of the grounds, accompanied by Hedwig at first, then Neville and Susan when those two got done with their own packing.

They found a seat under a tree that gave the best view of the setting sun over the lake and chatted quietly, firming up plans for visiting each other and a couple of trips to the different Enklabeak, and discussing what their grades might look like when the results were owled to them in a few weeks.

Harry delighted in being able to pet Hedwig, who was happily perched on his shoulder, now that his hands were doing better. Talking with Hedwig, it appeared she was all for riding in the Hogwarts Express the next day if it meant more of the petting she’d been sorely missing. Finally, curfew approached, and the three returned to the Badger dorms, contentedly tired and yet eager to begin their summer holidays the next day as well.

The last morning of the school year was barely controlled chaos with breakfast thrown in for good measure, as they found out after having gotten a good night’s sleep. Cedric shrunk the trunks for the first years that didn’t have the rune controls like Harry did and sent them all off to the carriages as a group. He’d sort of appointed himself a big brother to the first years and took his responsibilities seriously.

By 9:15 the assorted Harry and Co members were at the Hogsmeade station and had claimed the three compartments they needed to fit everyone in. Luggage stowed, pets and familiars settled, it was then fun to watch the rest of the students scrambling to get onto the train in time, though most doubted they’d leave any stragglers at the station.

On the dot of 9:30, the Hogwarts Express blew two loud whistles and slowly began to pull out of the station. A considerable number of professors were there to wave them off, including Hagrid sending his best wishes in his booming voice. In no time, Hogsmeade was well behind them, and they settled into the journey that would take the rest of the day to return to London.

It was a very relaxing day for Harry and his friends. Board games were again shared between the compartments, and the house-elves had outdone themselves with the variety of sandwiches and sides available in their packed lunches. There were jokes and laughter and the retelling of many stories from the entire year, and almost before they knew it, the train was pulling to a halt in Kings Cross Station.

Harry and his friends retrieved their trunks and other belongings, then departed en masse for shared hugs all around. Moments later, they were then each racing to the families that awaited them, shouting cheery farewells as they went. Harry found himself hugged almost flat by Soraya, and to his great delight, a glamoured Firelock and Ringstar. For the first time, he felt like he was returning to a home and a family.

As they left the station to grab a cab back to Diagon Alley just for the novelty, Harry whispered to himself, “I could get used to this, to having a family.” Then he turned to Soraya again, hugged her one more time, and counted his blessing for the changes life had brought him in just the last year. What a roller-coaster it had been, but he didn’t regret a moment and looked forward to what the summer would bring.

~0~0~

“This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.”

Winston Churchill, 1942

Ragnok, May 1992, contemplating Harry Potter’s life so far, and what the future may bring.

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