Harry Po er, the Geek

By: Andrius

Fandom: harry po er

Summary: The summer before his fi h year, Harry obtains a computer

and an internet connec on. Two months later, he emerges a changed
person, for what has been seen cannot be unseen. AU with the whole
Harry Po er meline moved forward to the modern day. References to
internet memes, video games, anime, etc.

Status: Completed

Addi onal infos: Humor/Adventure - Harry P.

Published: 2013-10-30

Last updated: 2014-06-07

Words count: 65,269

Chapters count: 23

Converted using www.FF2EBOOK.com

Date: 2022-10-19
1. The Beginnings

He had to be the most bored wizard in all Britain, Harry decided. There
wasn't anything to read at 4 Privet Drive besides his old textbooks, he
wasn't allowed to do magic, and couldn't even leave the neighborhood
due to security concerns. His friends apparently didn't think to write him
any le ers, either. Furthermore, the Dursleys le for a trip one week into
the summer holidays, leaving him all alone in the house. He had already
cleaned the whole place from top to bo om, just like Aunt Petunia
requested – nay, ordered – before depar ng, and was currently out of
his mind with boredom. Not that he missed his so-called 'family', mind
you – it's just that all the endless chores had a wonderful effect of
making Harry forget certain events. Like witnessing the death of a fellow
student, or being a guest of honor at a rebirth party of an insane dark
wizard.

Great, he was thinking of that day again.

Harry sighed and got up from the bed where he had been lying for the
past half an hour, contempla ng a very interes ng crack in the ceiling
that kind of looked like a spider. He stretched and decided to go
downstairs for a drink. As he was passing the door to Dudley's room, he
got a sudden idea and stopped.

Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a look?

Dursleys didn't deem him worthy of knowing how long their family
holiday would take, but he figured it would be at least a week. They le
very clear instruc ons regarding how much food he could take from the
fridge, how much water he could use, and which places in the house
were off-limits to him. The la er included Dudley's bedroom as well.

He shrugged and opened the door, feeling a bit excited about defying his
aunt and uncle, even though he knew it was silly.

Dudley's room was surprisingly dy, he noted, a sure sign that Aunt
Petunia had been there to clean up recently. It was quite a bit larger
than Harry's and was furnished with a sizable bed, some shelves which
contained assorted records and Dudley's old comics, a wardrobe, and
some expensive-looking electronics. A music system, a TV, a computer...

Harry turned around to leave, but then his curiosity got the be er of
him. He entered the room and considered the computer. Harry knew a
bit about those from his classes back in Muggle primary school, and he
remembered his old classmates talking about something called the
internet. According to them, all sorts of interes ng stuff could be found
there. Perhaps it would be enough to keep his mind off darker things.

Decision made, Harry pressed the power bu on and was pleased to see
that the machine was boo ng up. When it was finished, he sat on the
surprisingly comfortable chair and went for the familiar Internet
Explorer icon. A website called MSN opened up, offering him to do a
web search. Now, what should he look for first?

The young wizard leaned back on the chair, trying to figure out what his
biggest desire was right now. He didn't have to think very long. Reaching
for the keyboard, he typed in:

'Sexy naked girls'.

"OK guys listen up, I want groups 1 and 3 on the right side, 2 and 4 on
the le . Group 5 is the add group. Un l I have aggro, you are going to
DPS very, very slowly. And by slowly I mean fucking slow!"

Harry sighed, annoyed at one of his online companions.

"No, Mogris, trust me. I've dealt with dragons before, all right?"

A brief pause in the conversa on ensued, with Harry en rely focused on

the ac on happening on the screen. He was leading a raid party in a new
MMO that he purchased on his shopping trip a few days before. The
food Dursleys had le him ran out in two days, so visi ng the nearest
supermarket was a ma er of survival.
"Adds about to spawn, stay in posi on so you don't aggro all of them at
once".

The raid leader took a swig of an energy drink, but nearly spit it out as
he saw what was happening in the game.

"Oh my god... he just ran in."

Furious bu on mashing, trying to fix the situa on.

"Group 5, handle it! Now!" he ordered tersely. Things weren't going well
though. His raid was wiping, and he doubted he would get a chance at
leading another one a er this fiasco. All because one bloody idiot.

"Goddammit, Leeroy... you fucking moron."

Harry sighed, listening to his guildmates voice their complaints. The

usual epithets of noob and scrub were tossed around, some in his
direc on. Harry felt his anger rise.

"Why don't you shut the fuck up, you li le prick. I'm in no mood for your
bullshit."

"What the hell did you say?!" a voice behind Harry roared.

"I said," Harry shouted into the headset angrily, "shut the hell up before
I..."

Oh.

Oh, shit.

He really didn't want to turn around, but that was just delaying the
inevitable.

"Hello, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia. Hi, Dudley."

All things considered, everything went be er than expected – Harry was
s ll alive, a er all. His uncle flew into a fit of rage, shou ng at the
shocked teenager at full volume, his face redder than Harry thought was
humanly possible. Vernon then dragged his nephew downstairs, and
started a more coherent rant about how everything that was wrong in
the world was Harry's fault. The usual, really.

"And don't think I'm not on to you, boy," the obese man snarled and
pointed his finger right in the wizard's face. "I've taken a look at the
water meter, and you used way too much!"

"Really, I don't even know why we put up with you," sniffed Petunia.
"I've never seen a more ungrateful, shi y li le..."

"Freak!" Vernon interrupted his wife, flying off the handle again. "A
nasty li le freak, that's what he is! I bet he looked at all sorts of vile,
perverted things on Dudley's computer while we were away".

Harry's face colored a li le. His uncle wasn't too much off the mark. Oh
well, no choice but to use his trump card.

"I did in fact look up all sorts of things on the internet, uncle," said Harry
calmly, speaking for the first me in the last ten minutes. "And the thing
I learned was how to contact Child Protec on Services".

Now that was a bombshell. Harry enjoyed watching his rela ves spu er
indignantly for a few moments.

"Preposterous–"

"There's no way they would–"

"Perhaps they'd be interested to hear how I lived in the cupboard under

the stairs un l I was twelve," he pressed on. "Perhaps I should tell them
how you locked me in my room and put bars on my windows. Or how
you a empt to deny my basic hygiene needs while Dudley gets to
shower for as long as he wants".
Harry wasn't en rely sure this would work. He didn't think his case was
strong enough, but he hoped the possibility of a scandal alone would
give his aunt and uncle a scare.

His rela ves didn't disappoint. Petunia bristled under the accusa on,
but stayed quiet. Vernon a empted to reason with him.

"Now, boy, you wouldn't really contact social services, would you?" his
Uncle asked in what he probably considered a cordial tone.

"Of course not, uncle," Harry replied in an equally sweet voice. "I'm sure
we can come to an agreement".

One hour later, Harry was back on his computer. He whistled a tune as
he scoured the net for something useful. 'Useful' in this case included
everything from prank ideas to ps on self-defense. At first, Harry
wanted to look for some neat things his friends would enjoy at the
online shopping sites. That would have to wait, however, since he used
up all of his measly 'emergency fund' of Muggle currency that he had
kept in his trunk to buy off the Dursleys.

The agreement was fairly simple. Harry would purchase the slightly
outdated machine for two hundred pounds. He would also start paying
a weekly rent. In return, the Dursleys would leave him to his own
devices. That meant no more chores, no more ge ng on his case for no
reason, and no harassing if he showered under hot water for longer
than five minutes.

The fact that he had no cash le was an issue, but it was nothing a quick
trip to Gringo s wouldn't fix. As for the amount itself, Harry wasn't too
concerned. If what he heard about the exchange rate from Muggleborn
wizards back at Hogwarts was any indica on, he should have no
problems paying the rent for two months a year for the rest of his
tui on.
Oooh, this prank looked like something Fred and George might be
interested in. Harry got out his notebook and jo ed a few lines. He
turned around when he heard a knock on his door.

"Come in."

"Harry," Aunt Petunia addressed him s ffly, "there doesn't seem to be

any ssues le in the house. Did you use all three boxes?"

"...I, uh, I had a cold, Aunt Petunia".

There was some tension in the house during the next few days, but
Petunia and Vernon adapted to their nephew's new status fairly quickly.
It was amazing how well Harry and his rela ves got along when they
stopped pretending to be a family and agreed on a business-like
rela onship. Harry briefly wondered why Dumbledore, in all his wisdom,
didn't think of such an arrangement, but decided to save that thought
for later.

Harry quickly se led into a rou ne where he would wake up at noon,

make his own food whenever he was hungry, and go to sleep at about 4
AM. He spent most of the me in his room, which seemed to suit the
Dursleys just fine. A few days a er the 'incident', he made a quick trip
via the Knight Bus to Gringo s, and exchanged enough of the golden
Galleons into pounds to pay his rent and have some le for his own
needs. It was about me he got some new Muggle clothes, and Harry
was pre y sure that his old glasses needed replacing, too.

Most of his days (and nights) were spent on the internet. Harry was
amazed at the wealth of informa on and entertainment available at his
finger ps. He researched all sorts of things that he thought might help in
the upcoming fight against Voldemort and his minions. Harry didn't
learn anything in the way of magic spells, but he did find a treasure
trove of info on non-magical weaponry and explosives, and printed
everything that might be of use.
As for entertainment, Harry tried everything from movies to video games
to anime. He also read quite a few sci-fi and fantasy stories available
online, especially enjoying the fascina ng ideas that Muggles had about
magic. It helped him forget the whole Voldemort situa on for days, and
he found that he slept be er when his head was filled with all the
useless, yet awesome informa on a er a busy day of doing nothing
produc ve. Even Harry himself thought that this level of escapism was
unhealthy, but it's not like he had an alterna ve. He doubted Dursleys
would want to discuss Voldemort's resurrec on and Harry's role in it,
and he couldn't write about anything of importance to his friends.

Speaking of which, Ron and Hermione did finally grace him with a le er
(a single one from both of them) two weeks into the holiday. Short as it
was, most of the message was a warning not to reveal any sensi ve
informa on via owl post. The rest hinted at his two friends being at a
secret loca on, doing... secret things. Ron seemed par cularly happy
about knowing something Harry did not. Harry snorted with contempt
and penned an equally uninspired reply.

He actually had more ac ve correspondence going on with Fred and

George. The Weasley twins were more than happy to listen to
sugges ons from their main investor, especially if they were actually
good. He declined to inform them that most of his ideas were borrowed
from the net.

As me went on, Harry ventured into the darker corners of the internet.
He was shocked and disgusted at some of the things he found there –
such as gore and human suffering – but for some perverse reason he
just couldn't look away. As fucked up as it sounded, all those morbidly
fascina ng pictures and videos somehow helped Harry deal with what
happened that night in the graveyard.

Harry's familiar rou ne was only interrupted at the beginning of August.

He was owning some noobs at Counter Strike (everyone with half a brain
knew that CS was the best FPS ever, while CoD sucked ass) when he
no ced an unusual chill in the room. He sighed, got up to put on a
recently-bought jumper, and went back to his game.

Ten minutes later, his hands were s ll freezing, and the cold was star ng
to affect his aim. Now that was unacceptable.

Grumbling about s ngy, ght-fisted Dursleys, Harry lumbered down the

stairs, expressing his displeasure by making as much noise as possible.
The house's hea ng system was controlled from the kitchen, so that's
where Harry was heading.

It was even colder downstairs. When Harry entered the kitchen he found
his aunt nursing a cup of hot tea, while his dear uncle was looking at the
hea ng control panel with a stumped expression on his face.

"I'm cold," Harry said in the way of a gree ng.

Vernon just grunted in response and began jabbing the bu ons on the
thermostat with more force than was strictly necessary. Harry waited a
few moments, but neither his aunt nor his uncle seemed interested in
making a conversa on, so he wandered over to the window and glanced
at the thermometer.

"Damn, but it's freezing out there! What do you think..." Harry trailed off
when he no ced a familiar dark shape floa ng above the road, leaving
slight wisps of fog in its wake. He swallowed. This was bad. This was
really, really bad. He wasn't ready to go back to the craziness of the
wizarding world yet. There s ll was this sweet RPG called 'Mask of
Betrayer' that he absolutely had to finish.

Checking his right pocket for his wand (it was there, thank Merlin), Harry
tracked the Dementor through the window un l it floated out of view.
He then walked briskly to the front door, and cracked it open just
enough to poke his head outside. The holly wand was grasped firmly in
his hand, a suitable memory already prepared.

Well, this was ge ng be er and be er.

There wasn't just one Dementor circling his house, but two; however,
they didn't seem intent on a acking him, at least at the moment. A
most unusual behavior for a soul-sucking monster, as far as Harry was
concerned. He frowned in thought: were these two creatures hun ng
him? Guarding him?

A er a few minutes of observing the two Dementors moving around his

house but never crossing some invisible boundary, Harry closed the door
and turned around. He was startled to see his rela ves standing behind
him, peering at him him in silence.

"Explain," barked Vernon, eyeing Harry's wand with apprehension. "Is

your kind responsible for some unnatural happening again?"

"Well, uncle, the good news is, the thermostat isn't broken," replied
Harry more cheerfully than he felt. "The bad news is... there are two
Dementors circling this house, and I have no idea why."

Petunia's and Vernon's reac ons couldn't have been more different.
While his uncle just looked u erly confused at Harry's announcement,
his aunt blanched and took a few steps back.

"What–what are they doing here?" she asked in a trembling voice. Both
men stared at her in shock.

"You know what Dementors are, Aunt Petunia?" Harry asked

incredulously.

She nodded mutely, then clarified, "I heard about them from Lilly. They
guard the wiz– I mean, they guard your prison, don't they?"

Harry nodded, studying his aunt's face with interest. She seemed too
afraid of what should have been just a name to her, a mere abstrac on,
but he didn't press for details.

Vernon, who had been rather comically gaping at them in turn, finally
found his voice. "Well then, do something about it boy! These dementy-
thingies are here for you, they must be, as the rest of us have nothing to
do with your kind!"

Harry noted with sa sfac on that his uncle was being a bit more civil,
just like their agreement entailed. At least, the word 'freak' no longer
entered the conversa on. Calling Harry by his name was beyond
Vernon's abili es, he supposed.

S ll, his uncle made a valid point. Harry realized perfectly well that the
wardens of Azkaban must have come for him – and he couldn't just
leave them flying around Privet Drive as they pleased. The rest of his
summer holidays were at stake. However, he had no idea what to do.
The obvious solu on would be informing Dumbledore, but he didn't
want to risk Hedwig, and although he was aware of the possibility of
using his Patronus to deliver messages, he had never done that before.
Not to men on it would probably get him expelled from Hogwarts, as
that would be his second offense.

The choice was soon made for him, however.

"Li le Duddy!" Petunia screeched somewhere in the whereabouts of his

right ear.

Indeed, there his cousin was, waddling home along the pavement and
paying no a en on to the dark figures swooping above the house. Harry
watched in fascina on as the Dementors stopped their circling and
turned towards the approaching boy. They looked like predators who
had just sensed their prey. 'Big D' stopped and shuddered as the cloaked
fiends drew closer.

"What is going on?" Petunia asked fearfully.

"I think the Dementors are about to suck Dudley's soul out," Harry
reported du fully.

"No, not my son! You have to save him!" Petunia shouted, gripping
Harry's shoulder with surprising strength and causing him to wince.
"I don't know..." he drawled, watching the foul creatures grab Dudley
with their slimy, ro en hands. "I would have to do magic, and I'd get in
trouble for that."

"You will help Dudley if you know what's good for you, boy!" Vernon
roared, concern for his son overcoming his fear of magic.

"Please, Harry," pleaded Aunt Petunia, watching Dudley ge ng choked

by the invisible hands squeezing his neck.

"Oh, very well," Harry murmured resignedly. "Expecto Patronum!"

A/N: This story is going to be rather cracky and filled with completely
unsubtle references. It is rated M mostly for coarse language.
2. 12 Grimmauld Place

"So this is it, huh?" asked Tonks, looking around. "Home of the great
Harry Po er. I was expec ng something more, I don't know..."

"Impressive?" Remus Lupin suggested with a faint smile. "I told you
Harry lived with everyday, ordinary Muggles."

"I know, but this is too ordinary even by Muggle standards." Tonks was
scowling at the squeaky-clean kitchen as if it had offended her
personally.

"Enough cha er," growled Moody from his place at the table. "Why
don't you go and fetch the boy, lass, while we secure the area." His eye
was spinning around wildly, no doubt searching the cupboards and the
oven for poten al enemies.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever. Make the youngest member do
all the work." Her complaints didn't sound en rely sincere, however –
the young Auror was quite looking forward in mee ng the Boy-Who-
Lived.

She climbed the stairs two at a me and knocked at the door which had
light coming out from underneath it. Hearing no answer, Tonks threw the
door open and stepped in.

"Wotcher, Harry!" she greeted the boy brightly, before no cing the
posi on he was in. She stared for a few long, awkward seconds, her hair
cycling through random colors without her conscious effort, then forced
herself to turn around, walked out of the room, and shut the door. Her
face was hot with embarrassment.

"Sorry, Harry," she squeaked at the door. "Just come down when you're...
ready."

Tonks was met with expectant looks from the other eight members
downstairs. For once, she was grateful for Moody's paranoia: the man
had insisted on keeping the lights off, and her blush wasn't too
no ceable in the twilight.

"Where's Po er, then?" Kingsley asked eagerly.

"Harry's, uh, a li le busy at the moment. I kind of walked in on him

polishing his wand." Good job Tonks, you almost sounded normal here.

"Good on him," Moody grunted approvingly. "Taking care of one's wand

is important."

"That's not what I... um, never mind."

To her immense relief, things went much smoother from there on. They
managed to pack Harry's things and take off without too much trouble.
The only snag was Harry's surprising reluctance to leave the house. She
thought it strange because Remus had told her the boy treated 4 Privet
Drive like a prison of sorts.

Tonks s ll couldn't quite meet Harry's eyes without ge ng all red-faced,

and mentally scolded herself. She was the adult here, a er all. The poor
kid was probably a lot more embarrassed than she was.

Tonks broke forma on and inched towards Harry as they were nearing
London. She took her wand out and cast a quick charm for privacy.

"Hey, Harry. I wanted to apologize for walking in on you like that," she
began, a li le hesitantly.

"It's no big deal," answered Harry bashfully.

"S ll, I'm sorry. And I bet it was quite a shock," she added, a emp ng to
make light of it. "You didn't even try to hide or cover up!"

Harry mu ered something under his breath. Tonks didn't quite catch it,
but she thought she heard something about establishing dominance.
Weird.

"That is a damn nice broom," she said wis ully, trying to change the
awkward topic. "I wish I had a Firebolt."

"I'll give you a ride any me you want to feel real power between your
legs," Harry offered cheekily.

Tonks blinked. Was the kid actually flir ng with her? Harry Po er turned
out to be full of surprises.

She could play that game, too. Tonks closed the gap between them and
grinned at Harry.

"Why, Harry, I'd love to ride your brooms ck."

As soon as he stepped into 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was nearly

knocked off his feet as a certain bushy-haired girl ran up and wrapped
her arms around him.

"Harry! I've missed you so much!"

"Hey, Hermione."

"I hope you're not too angry about us not wri ng to you," she said
apologe cally, withdrawing from the hug. "We wanted to, but
Dumbledore forbade us."

"We didn't have much me to write, anyway," interjected Ron from

behind Hermione. "We had to work on, you know, secret Order stuff."

Harry shrugged dismissively. "Whatever, guys. I was so busy, I never

really no ced."

"Busy? With what?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Gaming, ea ng, fapping, sleeping. Not necessarily in that order."

"Oh... Wait, what?"

Harry was shut up in his room with a fantasy novel, grateful for his
foresight to bring some reading material. He didn't expect the Order HQ
to be so boring. Exploring the house was out of the ques on for now, as
it was deemed 'too dangerous' by the bristling Molly Weasley, and the
areas of interest like the kitchen or the library were currently occupied
by Order members. And there were only so many mes he could watch
Ron and Hermione bicker about stupid, unimportant shit un l it
stopped being entertaining. That only le Harry with the op on of
reading 'Horror, Humor, And Heroes', which, admi edly, was me well
spent.

He was called down to dinner an indeterminate amount of me later

and trudged down the stairs, paying no a en on to his two best friends,
who were following him and arguing about veganism or animal rights or
whatever.

The food was excellent, at least, and well worth the journey downstairs.
Harry had been subsis ng on ramen and soda for nearly a month, so he
rather enjoyed a real, hot meal. He didn't really pay much a en on to
the lively conversa on at the table, but something happened towards
the end of the dinner that shook him out of his reverie.

"Do a pig's nose next!" Ginny giggled at Tonks, who screwed up her eyes
and obligingly grew a pig snout.

"Holy. Shit."

"Language, Harry!"

"Language, young man!"

Ignoring the admoni ons, Harry stared at Tonks with such intensity that
it made the young woman squirm under his gaze.
"W-what is it, Harry?"

"Can you turn into another person?"

"Well..." Tonks studied Hermione for a few seconds, then morphed into
an exact copy of the younger girl. "Does that answer your ques on?"

"Bloody brilliant," Harry breathed out, earning more rebukes from

Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. "I'll be right back! Don't go anywhere!" He
bolted out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Coming back five minutes later, he found a much emp er kitchen with
only Tonks, Ron, and Hermione wai ng for him. He thrust a poster under
the Metamorph's nose without any ceremony.

"Her," he u ered reverently. "Please do her."

Tonks eyed the picture of a scan ly-clad elf girl with a stunning figure
and sighed resignedly. "All right, but just this once."

Harry watched raptly as the shapeshi er's ears elongated, her hair grew
down to her waist, and her eyes assumed an exo c slanted shape. Then
his gaze inevitably dri ed downwards to her breasts, which were now
stretching out her ght shirt.

"Whoa." Harry gaped at the ravishing elven woman which looked so out
of place in the gloomy kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione glared
at Harry angrily, but Ron was admiring Tonks' assets just like Harry was.

Seeing the reac ons of her male audience, Tonks smirked and spun
around, giving them the full view. "Like what you see, boys?"

"Hell yeah," Harry agreed enthusias cally, extending his hands. Those
en cing pointy ears were just within reach, so he began stroking them
gently.
"Eep!" Tonks twitched and smacked Harry's hands away. "Bad Harry! No
touching."

Harry grinned unabashedly. "I had to know how they felt... for science."

"What's all the commo on?" Sirius entered the kitchen, his experienced
eyes centering on the ho est woman in the room immediately. "Hello,
beau ful! Is that you in there, Tonks?"

"Yes, cousin, so hold your horses."

"As if that would stop a pureblood like me." Sirius leered at Tonks, giving
her a saucy wink.

"Ew, disgus ng." Tonks gave an exaggerated shudder.

"Come on, don't be that way. Get over here and give your cousin Sirius a
nice big hug." Sirius shamelessly ran his eyes over Nymphadora's nubile
body, then turned to Harry and whispered, "Did you put her up to this?"

"Damn right," replied Harry with a smirk.

"Really? Nice job, kid!"

Sirius high-fived Harry and both of them started sniggering while giving
Tonks lecherous looks. She finally decided that she'd had enough and
assumed her original form with a huff.

"So that what you're into, huh? Quite the li le pervert, aren't you,
Harry?"

"I won't even bother denying that," Harry answered evenly, an easy
smile on his face. "Anyway, thanks for the material, Tonks. I'll, uh, go
take a shower now."

"Say, Harry, would you lend me that poster of yours?" Ron asked
hopefully. He had been sneaking peeks at it for last five minutes, trying
not to look too interested.
"Sure." Harry handed the picture over and headed for the door. "Just
don't bother returning it. Seriously."

"Thanks, mate!" Ron grinned and promptly le as well, completely

oblivious to the nasty looks his female friend had been sending his way.

Hermione speechlessly watched the boys leave before exploding. "Am I

the only sane person le in this house?!"
3. The Hearing

"...Prosecu on: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia

Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement;
Dolores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister..."

As Fudge droned on, Harry fidgeted on the uncomfortable chair in the

middle of the dark dungeon and tried his best to suppress a yawn. It
wouldn't do to be declared in contempt of the court, even if contempt
was all he felt towards the poncy Ministry officials.

"...As the defense a orney failed to arrive on me, the accused shall
have to speak for himself," Fudge finished, sounding posi vely gleeful.

Harry snorted in disgust. He knew very well the reason Dumbledore

wasn't here: Fudge decided to change the me of the hearing prac cally
at the last minute. He didn't think he needed the Headmaster to deal
with this fabricated case, however.

"The charges are as follows: the accused knowingly and willfully violated
the Decree for the Reasonable Restric on of Underage Sorcery and the
Interna onal Statute of Secrecy by cas ng the Patronus Charm in plain
view of several Muggles–"

"Objec on!" Harry shouted, standing up and poin ng his index finger at
the Minister.

"W-what?" Fudge spu ered, losing his arrogant smirk and dropping the
parchment he was reading from.

"Families of Muggleborn students are allowed to know about magic. As

such, while I might have violated the Decree for the Reasonable
Restric on of Underage Sorcery, doing magic in front of my uncle, aunt,
and cousin does not violate the Interna onal Statute of Secrecy."

"B-but... Amelia?"
"Be that as it may, Mr. Po er," Amelia Bones cut in smoothly, "Your
rather impressive Patronus Charm was also seen by two of your
neighbors. We had to send out Obliviators to deal with the mess."

"Oh." Harry collapsed back on the chair, mentally cursing the nosy
housewives of Privet Drive.

It took Fudge a minute or two to regain his composure and start ra ling
off charges again. He was glaring at Harry as if daring him to say
something. Harry just gave the man a cheeky smile.

"...Not only the accused inten onally performed magic in the presence
of Muggles on August 2nd, this is not his first viola on of this kind! Our
records show that Harry Po er was issued an official warning on 31st
July, 1992 for illegal use of a Hover Charm..."

"Objec on!" Harry leaped to his feat, striking the same pose again.

"What now?" bellowed Fudge, losing his trail of thought again.

"The said Hover Charm was performed by Dobby the house-elf. I went to
the Ministry a erwards to give tes mony and get my wand checked. I
was told the warning would be removed from my record."

"It is true, Minister," Amelia Bones interjected again, perusing her own
papers. "That warning should have been stricken from the records a long
me ago."

"Ah... a mere oversight, I'm sure," Fudge replied, not too happy about
ge ng the wind knocked out of his sails. "S ll, that does not change the
fact that the accused knew very well of the consequences of doing magic
in a Muggle-inhabited area. That Mr. Po er knowingly disregarded the
law tells us much about his character..."

Amelia Bones frowned and looked like she was about to say something
to Fudge, but Harry was faster.
"Objec on!" He jumped to his feet a third me.

"Stop this nonsense, Mr. Po er!" Fudge screamed, incensed.

"Hem, hem."

"Yes, Dolores?" the portly man snapped at the equally fleshy witch
seated to his le .

"If I might make a sugges on, Minister," the plump witch spoke in a
simpering voice, "perhaps the boy should be restrained as to not cause
a scene again."

"Excellent idea, Dolores," Fudge sneered malevolently, ignoring the vocal

protesta ons from Madam Bones and the audible murmurs among the
rest of the Wizengamot. "Aurors! Apply the chains."

Harry watched dispassionately as two Aurors walked up to him and

waved their wands. Mul ple chains snaked up his arms and legs, binding
him to the chair quite snugly.

"Sorry, kid, just following orders," one of the men whispered before
leaving. Harry nodded, not really feeling any ire at the wizard. His anger
was aimed at the Minister and his toady instead.

"Do you really think these chains will hold me, Minister?" Harry growled
menacingly. It might have sounded more in mida ng, had his voice not
broken halfway through the sentence.

"Er... well, yes, I believe so," Fudge replied, clearly confused.

Harry roared and struggled against the chains using the full might of his
scrawny teenage muscles. To no one's surprise, the magically
strengthened metal failed to yield. He slumped back into the
uncomfortable wooden chair, ignoring the alarmed and bemused stares
the Wizengamot members were giving him.
"I guess they will," Harry allowed.

The Bri sh Minister for Magic stared at Harry as if he had grown a

second head. It took him a while to gather his thoughts and start the
ques oning.

"You are Harry James Po er, current residence 4 Privet Drive, Li le

Whinging, Surrey?"

"Sure am," Harry replied cheerfully, observing Fudge's twitching le

eyebrow. He congratulated himself on successfully giving the Minister a
nervous c.

"Did you conjure a Patronus Charm on the evening of the second of

August?"

"Yep."

"You did this in a Muggle neighborhood, in the presence of Muggles, and

knowing full well that you are not permi ed to do magic outside school
un l you're of age?"

"Yes," Harry agreed amiably. Just as Fudge opened his mouth to speak
again, he added, "I did it to defend my cousin from the Dementors."

Rabble, rabble, rabble. Harry amused himself by making faces at

Umbridge while Fudge calmed down the Wizengamot.

"I can't say I didn't expect something like this," Fudge said, smirking at
Harry superciliously. "A convenient story, indeed. There just happen to
be no witnesses, and–"

"I would like to submit my Pensieve memories and tes mony under
Veritaserum as evidence," Harry stated firmly.

"Well. Well!" Fudge rubbed his hands together, thinking he was finally
going to get his way and expose Po er as an a en on-seeking brat.
"Scribe, note that the defendant volunteered to take Veritaserum.
Aurors, prepare..."

"A moment, if you will, Minister," a smooth voice sounded from one of
the back seats. Harry narrowed his eyes and tensed up. He'd know that
voice anywhere.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" Oddly enough, Fudge didn't appear that displeased
when it was one of his biggest financial backers interrup ng him.
Surprise, surprise.

"Mr. Po er is s ll under-age, and I don't believe his misconduct warrants

the use of Veritaserum. A er all, it is usually reserved for hardened
criminals, not children with overac ve imagina ons."

Harry stared straight into Malfoy's cold eyes and felt fury overtake him.
He knew very well why the man didn't want him taking Veritaserum. The
po on made one unable to tell lies, but the affected person could s ll
formulate his answers any way he wished. Malfoy was clearly afraid
Harry was going to blurt out something related to Voldemort's
resurrec on, as well as his own par cipa on in the welcoming party that
followed.

Harry swore, right then and there, that he was going to wipe that smirk
off the arrogant bastard's face. One way or another, Lucius Malfoy was
finished. He just didn't know it yet.

Fudge sighed, accep ng the argument. "You have a point, Mr. Malfoy. It's
best we don't waste an expensive substance like Veritaserum on a case
like this. Aurors! Prepare the Pensieve."

The same two red-robed men wheeled in a heavy desk with a large
Pensieve on top. Harry was told to think of the evening the Dementors
'allegedly' a acked his cousin, while one of the Aurors extracted the
memory using his wand. The memory was then projected much like a
hologram for the whole Wizengamot to see. Predictably, it started a
shitstorm.
"But... but... it must be faked!" cried Fudge.

"I sincerely doubt a fi een year old wizard is capable of such a feat,"
Amelia Bones shot him down derisively. "Even a Master Occlumens
would have trouble..."

"Mr. Po er is clearly a very sick boy," Umbridge bu ed in with her

opinion. "He must sincerely believe that was what he saw–"

"You are hardly qualified to judge someone's mental state, Madam

Umbridge!" Amelia Bones cut the self-important woman off. Harry found
himself liking this stern witch more and more. "If the court shall decide
that a medical exper se is needed to evaluate Mr. Po er, we'll have to
adjourn un l a later date. I don't personally believe that will be
necessary, however. A much more important ques on here is what were
two wardens of Azkaban doing in a Muggle neighborhood?"

Harry yawned openly as the Wizengamot descended into chaos. No one

paid him any a en on anymore, except that weird toad woman. She
kept looking at him and smiling creepily. Harry pointedly stared back
un l she averted her eyes. Dominance, established.

By the me Fudge and Bones managed to return a semblance of order

to the courtroom, Harry's back was s ff from being forced to sit in the
same posi on. He squirmed and ra led his chains as Fudge grudgingly
declared, "Harry Po er... cleared of all charges."

"You are free to go, young man," Bones said more kindly. "I assure you,
we are going to look into the ma er of rogue Dementors."

"Thank you, Madam Bones." Harry watched the chains retract on their
own and stood up as soon as he was freed. "Guess they didn't hold me
for very long a er all, eh, Minister?"

Harry exited the gloomy courtroom with a whistle. An anxious Mr.

Weasley and a slightly windswept-looking Dumbledore were wai ng for
him outside.
"You're late, sir," Harry accused.

"Ah, my boy," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I'll have you know, a wizard
is never late, nor is he early – he arrives precisely when he means to."

"You got me there, sir."

4. Hogwarts Express

Harry Po er, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were having quite a
good me playing cards on the Hogwarts Express. They se led on
Exploding Snap a er Harry failed to convince Hermione to play strip
poker.

The trio ended up ge ng a whole compartment to themselves since

Hannah Abbot had dragged Neville away asking him to explain stamens
and pis ls for her Herbology homework. Ron and Hermione were a bit
awkward around Harry because of their new roles as Prefects, but Harry
couldn't have cared less. He might have been a tad miffed about not
ge ng the posi on before, but now he was just happy he didn't have
even more troublesome responsibili es to deal with.

Of course, no good things last forever, and no Hogwarts Express ride

would be complete without a visit from a certain blond Slytherin with a
raging superiority complex. Draco chose to make his entrance when
Harry was drawing a card, causing him to drop it and curse as it
exploded inches away from his hand. Malfoy was flanked by Crabbe and
Goyle as usual, his shiny Prefect badge prominent on his chest.

"Po er," Draco spat. "Just wanted to give you a warning – you be er
watch yourself this year. Unlike Weasel and Mudblood here, you are not
a Prefect. You will respect my authority."

Ignoring Draco's words completely, Harry took a small notebook out of

his pocket and started wri ng in slow, exaggerated mo ons.

"Dear diary..."

Both of Harry's friends glanced over his shoulder curiously to see what
he had wri en. Hermione covered her mouth to s fle her giggles, while
Ron just howled with laughter.

"What are you laughing about, Weasley?" Malfoy demanded to know.

"Just about how much of a f-faggot you are, Malfoy," Ron managed to
say while choking back laughter.

Draco narrowed his eyes and reached for his wand. "You will pay for this
insult, Po er."

Harry pointed his own wand at Malfoy and blurted out the first thing
that came to his mind when he saw the li le twit. "Meatspin!"

The effects were immediate. Draco yelped comically and grabbed his
crotch.

"What–what did you do, Po er?!" he screeched.

Harry stared at his wand dumbly. What had just happened?

Ge ng no answer from Po er, Draco hightailed it, his minions following

dumbly behind. Ron watched the retreat with his mouse agape, then
clapped Harry on the shoulder.

"Good show, mate! But what in the bloody blazes was that spell you
cast?"

"You spin me right round baby, right round," murmured Harry under his
breath. "I can't believe that shit worked."

"What?"

"I have no idea how he did it," Hermione interjected, "but I'm pre y
sure he made Malfoy's... you know... willy, spin around." She blushed
slightly, but managed to finish the sentence in her usual tone.

That finally snapped Harry out of his reverie. "Hermione? I don't believe
it. A proper, strait-laced girl like you, watching dirty videos on the net?"

"My friend sent me the link. She told me it was a pro-vegetarian video. I
didn't talk to her for a month a erwards," she replied with a huff.
"Hmm..." Harry noted Hermione was s ll blushing and refusing to meet
his eyes. Perhaps she wasn't as strait-laced as he had thought.

Ron, however, had other things on his mind. He'd had a horrified,
disgusted expression on his face since Hermione explained what Harry
had done.

"Harry, mate, you indirectly touched Malfoy's wiener through your wand
and magic. Don't you think that's kind of gay?" he asked in a concerned
tone.

Harry snorted dismissively. "Don't you know anything? It's not gay as
long as balls don't touch."

"I believe it's me to put on my robe and wizard hat," Harry announced
as the train was nearing Hogwarts.

"I am so embarrassed about understanding that reference," Hermione

mumbled with her face in her hands.

"You did? Maybe we can cyber some me," Harry offered, wiggling his
eyebrows sugges vely.

Hermione glared at him for a few moments, then sighed. "Honestly,

Harry, you should have told me you had access to the Internet. We could
have exchanged e-mails."

"Honestly, Hermione, no one capitalizes internet anymore. Don't be such

a noob. Let me guess, you're s ll using Internet Explorer?"

"I am, why?"

"I rest my case."

"What is this inter-thingy?" the only pureblood wizard in the

compartment spoke up.
"Well, Ron, imagine a series of tubes..."

The last stretch of their journey to Hogwarts was to be undertaken using

horseless carriages – except they weren't quite so horseless anymore.
Harry stared at the winged skeletal creature harnessed to their coach
and it stared right back at him. Probably. It was hard to tell with those
creepy, milky-white eyes.

"Um, guys? What the fuck is that thing?" he asked, not le ng his eyes
off the animal.

"Language, Harry."

"What thing, mate?"

"That." He pointed.

Hermione followed his gaze, then frowned confusedly. "What do you

mean, Harry? There's nothing there. The carriage is pulling itself, same as
always."

Ron just shi ed away from the two of them, looking around to make
sure no one saw his friend ac ng all barmy. Harry glared at him.

"It's some sort of an unholy beast that looks like a starved pterodactyl
with four legs."

"There's nothing there, Harry," Hermione repeated, sounding quite

worried now.

"You... you mean neither of you can see it?" Harry asked his friends,
completely bewildered and more than a li le troubled. If he started
having hallucina ons, he'd have preferred to see something more
pleasant.

Ron and Hermione both shook their heads, looking at Harry with alarm.
"Don't worry, Harry Po er. I can see them too," a mellow voice spoke
behind him.

Harry spun around. The owner of the voice was a cute girl with a waif-
like figure, waist-length blonde hair, and wide grey eyes. He was barely
able to suppress the impulse to grab his chest and go 'Hnnnnnng'.

"Um... who are you?"

"Luna Lovegood." The girl smiled, seemingly unaware of Harry's struggle.

"I'm in Ravenclaw, a fourth-year."

"And you said you could see... that?" Harry pointed backwards over his
shoulder.

"If you mean the thestral, I certainly can. Beau ful creatures, aren't
they?"

"What are you two talking about?!" Hermione blustered. "The harness is
empty!"

"Don't pay a en on to her, Hermione," Ron said dismissively, not even

bothering to lower his voice. "That's Loony Lovegood, she's usually
talking nonsense."

Harry frowned. Ron was such a prick some mes... Well, most of the me,
really.

Thankfully, Luna didn't seem that upset. She leaned closer to Harry and
said in stage whisper, "They s ll can't see the truth. The Organiza on has
clouded their minds."

"Eh?... Oh!" Harry reeled back in realiza on, then schooled his features
into an expression of dismay.

"I see. Does that mean that the Skuld protocol is now in effect?" he
asked with utmost seriousness.
Luna nodded somberly. "Indeed it is, fellow ini ate. We must monitor
the situa on carefully."

"I will stay in contact."

"El Psy Congroo," Luna replied, and bounded off.

It took unbelievable effort, but Harry managed to hide his smirk and
present a mask of soberness to his friends as he turned around.

"Shall we?" he pointed to the carriage.

Ron and Hermione grilled him about his conversa on with Luna on the
ride to Hogwarts, but he was somehow able to deflect their ques ons
while trying hard not to laugh the en re me. The real fun started when
Ron and Hermione decided to prove that there was nothing pulling the
carriage – only to discover that while they couldn't see the thestrals,
they were perfectly able to touch them.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered when his hand encountered invisible

resistance, brushing against thestral's leathery side.

"What is- Eek!" Hermione shrieked as the thestral snorted at her

migh ly, messing up her hair. "Wha- wha- what is this thing, Harry?
What did it do? How does it look?"

"You aren't ready, Hermione," Harry stated grimly. "If you saw it now,
your mind wouldn't be able to process its otherworldly form, and you
would go insane. If you really want to learn the truth, ask Luna. But I
warn you, it is a dark and dangerous path." He looked around
theatricality before con nuing. "We can't talk about this anymore. The
Organiza on has ears everywhere. Make sure not to men on this
conversa on un l I tell you it's safe."

Ge ng two dumb nods in return, Harry walked off to the Great Hall,

sniggering all the way. Luna was pre y awesome... He had to get to
know her be er.
5. The Welcoming Feast

The noise created by hundreds of excited students speaking to each

other in the Great Hall of Hogwarts was overwhelming as usual. Harry
caught himself narrowing his shoulders and ducking his head, and forced
himself to look up and meet the curious stares head-on. He located an
empty seat next to his dorm mates and joined them.

"Hey, Neville. Hey, Seamus. Hey, Token... er, I mean, Dean."

Dean looked at him strangely, but shook his hand without comment. He
then turned back to Seamus to con nue their conversa on.

"...So then I jump out of my plane and shoot that guy's jet with my
rocket launcher! Rendezook, bitches!"

Harry perked up. "Oh, you guys game?" he cut in.

"Yeah, mate, you play Ba lefield?" Seamus asked, s cking his head out
from behind Dean.

"Sure, Ba lefield's good," Harry replied with a grin. Thankfully, it wasn't

Call of Duty, and he welcomed the chance to talk to someone who had a
clue about video games.

"Cool! Which system have you got, Harry?" Dean inquired with interest.

"System?" Harry had a look of dawning horror on his face.

"We play on an Xbox, but Seamus has a PS3 as well," Dean informed
him.

"Oh, hell no."

"What's your gamertag, Harry? Maybe we can play during the summer."

"No fucking way," Harry snapped, ge ng up. "Get away from me, you
filthy console peasants."
"What's wrong with you, mate?" Confusion was evident in Seamus'
voice.

"Talk to me when you're ready to embrace GabeN as your lord and

savior, and join the glorious PC gaming master race. Un l then, I don't
want to hear a word about your inferior graphics and autoaim
shooters," Harry spat with disgust. Ignoring the incredulous looks, he got
up and walked over to sit down with Ron and Hermione, who had
arrived a er him.

The rest of the feast proceeded in a much calmer manner. He ate his fill
while half-heartedly listening to Ron and Hermione bicker. The only
surprising thing to happen was his discovery that Dolores Umbridge (aka
the toad bitch) from the hearing was apparently their new Defense
Against the Dark Arts teacher, but when she droned on and on about
tradi ons and whatnot, he was able to successfully ignore and even
forget her thanks to his vast experience of tuning out annoying video
game characters. Hermione was quite irritated to see neither him nor
Ron paying any a en on to the speech, but Harry had more important
things on his mind.

Yes, he was too busy scoping out the Ravenclaw table to care about
what some Ministry sycophant had to say. He caught the eye of a cute
9/10 Asian girl and she smiled at him. He couldn't look away, grinning
like a fool in response. Man, Cho Chang was hot.

"Honestly, Harry, you should pay a en on instead of ogling Cho,"

Hermione told him acidly. "The way Umbridge is talking, there are going
to be some big changes at Hogwarts."

"I don't care," he said dismissively, causing Hermione to huff and turn
away from him.

Umbridge finished yammering a minute later, and people started ge ng

up. Harry stayed seated for a bit wai ng for the ini al rush to pass and
psyching himself up. He had to talk to Cho and ask her out. Harry had a
plan, too; he had watched lots of anime during the summer, so he
figured he could impress the girl with his immense knowledge of
Japanese language and culture.

Seeing the target of his affec ons get up and start moving towards the
exit of the Great Hall while cha ng animatedly with a group of friends,
Harry rose and followed, wiping his sweaty palms on his robes.

"H-hey, Cho," he greeted the pre y girl, mentally cursing his wavering
voice. "Konnichiwa."

Cho smiled at him, then frowned as if confused by something. "I'm sorry,

what?"

"Konnichiwa! Oh, wait, is it 'konbanwa' because it's the evening? Heh,

heh..."

Cho's smile was nowhere to be found at this point, and her friends were
observing the show gleefully. Harry wiped his palms again nervously.
This wasn't going very well.

"I'm sorry, Harry, I don't know what you're talking about."

He suddenly got the weirdest urge to check his pockets for spaghe . "I
just wanted to greet you in Japanese, because, you know... you're really
kawaii."

Cho scowled while her friends ered behind her. "For your informa on,
I'm Bri sh, although my ancestors are Chinese. Honestly, what is it with
you Muggleborns and your obsessions?"

Harry winced. "Oh. S-sorry. I'll, uh, see you around then."

Cho snorted. "A er this spectacle? I doubt it." She walked away quickly,
her groupies following a er and giggling.

Harry felt his face grow hot. "This must be how Ron felt when he tried to
ask Fleur out," he murmured. His eyes darted around fran cally, looking
at the crowd. A few people looked rather amused, but most didn't seem
to care, or indeed, give any indica on they even no ced the scene that
just unfolded. Everyone was just filling out of the Great Hall, ignoring
Harry who stood smack middle in the doorway. He breathed easier.

It was then that his eyes landed on another Asian cu e. Su Li, also a
Ravenclaw, was a quiet and reserved girl, and one of the top students in
their year. Harry hesitated for a moment, then mu ered, "in for a penny,
in for a pound." Figh ng the paralyzing fear, he approached her, s ll
feeling an adrenaline high from earlier.

'Chinese, not Japanese,' he reminded himself. He then greeted the girl

boisterously, "Ni hao!"

"Ni hao," she repeated quietly, her eyes wide in surprise.

"So, Su, how was your summer? I have to say, you look really great."

"T-thank you," the girl replied shyly, ducking her head. "It was all right."

Emboldened by his success so far, Harry plunged on. "I was wondering,
would you like to go to the next Hogsmeade ou ng with me? We could
get to know each other be er, maybe grab some food..."

Su Li looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "I... um, my friend..."

"Oh, you already promised to go with someone else? Well, that's fine..."
Harry was doing his best to not sound disappointed.

"No, it's not that. I mean, we don't really know each other, and... Would
you mind if Lisa came along, too?"

Harry would have found the Su's shyness adorable if he wasn't so

nervous himself. It took his brain a minute to process her statement, but
then he broke into a grin. Going to Hogsmeade with two good-looking
girls didn't sound so bad.
"Sure, no problem. We'll iron out the details later, all right? Good night,
Su."

"Good night," she replied in her so voice. Harry gave her a huge smile
and turned towards the staircase leading to the Gryffindor dorms. Ron
was wai ng for him at the base of the stairs.

"Blimey, Harry, did you just really ask out two girls in a row?"

"Listening in on me, eh, Ron?" Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "Yep, I sure
did. Alpha as fuck, right?"

"I wish I had a girlfriend," Ron said wis ully. "How'd you pull it off,
mate?"

"I gave that bitch a compliment. Bitches love compliments."

As it usually happens, Harry's life at Hogwarts took a nosedive a er the

rather exhilara ng start. In hindsight, he really should have expected
something to interfere and ruin his date. Thus the morning of the first
Hogsmeade trip found Harry in Professor McGonagall's office, pleading.

"Please, Professor," implored Harry. "I'll do twenty deten ons with you.
I'll even mark all the essays of lower year students so you don't have to."

McGonagall sighed and shook her head. "Temp ng as that sounds, Mr.
Po er, this isn't a nego a on. As I recall, you disrespected Professor
Umbridge by calling her a – 'hamplanet', was it? While revoking your
Hogsmeade privilege might seem harsh, she was well within her rights to
do so."

"But, Professor! She was snarfing down cupcakes during class."

Minerva had a look of disgust on her face. "Be that as it may, Mr. Po er,
you shouldn't disrespect your teachers. Besides, I couldn't overturn your
punishment even if I wanted to. The newest Educa onal Decree makes
certain of that."

Harry's shoulders slumped. "So there's nothing you can do, Professor?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Po er. I assure you, I share your frustra on with that...
with Professor Umbridge. Do try to keep your head down in her class
and don't give her opportunity to punish you. Now, if you will excuse
me... I'd really like to get a drink at the Three Brooms cks."

"Yes, Professor," Harry agreed glumly. He really had to figure out a way
to get back at Umbridge somehow.
6. Quidditch

The morning of Gryffindor's first Quidditch match versus Slytherin,

Ronald Weasley walked down from the dorms to find Harry nkering
with his brooms ck in the corner of the Common Room. Pieces of
parchment and various books were strewn around liberally, and Harry
was so absorbed in his task that he didn't see Ron un l he greeted him.

"Morning, Harry."

"Morning, Ron," Gryffindor's star seeker replied distractedly, s ll poking

the Firebolt with his wand. "Looking forward to the match?"

"Sure," Ron said a li le nervously. "More importantly, mate, what are

you doing with your Firebolt? It's not broken, is it?" he added anxiously.

"I hope not," Harry replied cheerfully. "I'm just trying to overclock it a
li le."

"Over-what?" Ron looked it over dubiously, but there was a dis nct lack
of clocks anywhere on the broom.

"Overclock – it means I'm trying to squeeze more juice out of this baby.
There are all sorts of limi ng charms built in for safety, but if I remove
those, I think I can..."

"You're stripping charms from a Firebolt? The most expensive brooms ck

in the world?" Ron's voice was weak with horror, and he looked as if he
had just watched You-Know-Who murder his en re family in front of his
eyes. "Please tell me why you thought this was a good idea."

"Well, I thought I might get some more speed out of it, but it's mainly
the fun of nkering with stuff. The way all these charms are layered on
top of each other, it's fascina ng."

"You're turning into another Hermione," Ron groaned. "Just make sure
your broom is s ll working when it's me to play, all right?"
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," Harry said with bravado, then
yelped as his latest poke caused the Firebolt to zap him painfully.

"Merlin save us," mu ered Ron.

If Ron was s ll concerned about Harry's brooms ck, he forgot all about it
by the me the team was preparing for the match, lost in his own
worries. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, but
Gryffindor's new Keeper was prac cally shaking with apprehension, and
his face was ashen, a decidedly unusual look for the normally lively boy.

"You all right there, mate?" Harry slapped his best friend on the
shoulder.

"I... I don't think I can do it, Harry!" Ron broke down. "I'm not feeling too
well. Maybe McLaggen should take this one." His eyes were dar ng to
the sides nervously, avoiding the gazes of his teammates.

Harry suddenly knew exactly what to say. "Look at me, Ron. Don't
believe in yourself! Believe in me, who believes in you."

"W-what?"

"It is me!" declared Angelina loudly. "Come on, people, let's go."

"Wait!" Ron wailed, but no one heard him in the commo on made by
seven boot-clad sets of feet. They le the lockers to the applause and
cheers from the spectators; Harry himself was ji ery with an cipa on
when Angelina and Montague shook hands and it was me to take off.

He flew up quickly but steadily, taking care not to push his overclocked
Firebolt too hard from the get go. It felt like the brooms ck mirrored his
excitement, vibra ng with barely restrained power. Harry made a few
languid circles around the pitch, well above the plane that the Chasers
and Beaters were playing in, searching for that elusive golden gleam, but
not really expec ng to find it so early. He no ced Draco Malfoy was
taking the opposite side of the field, a good tac c for when you didn't
expect to ou ly the opposing team's Seeker. Harry smirked.

He circled the pitch some more, doing an occasional barrel roll or an

Immelmann turn to get a feel for the now-faster broom. He dove down a
few mes to sca er Slytherin's Chaser forma ons and bait Draco, but
the ferret didn't bite, staying away and searching for the Snitch
resolutely. In the mean me, things weren't going that well for the
Gryffindor's inside players.

"Slytherin scores again! The score is now 80-20 to Slytherin!" Lee's

mournful voice echoed throughout the field.

"Get your head in the game, Ron!" Angelina shouted angrily when their
Keeper failed to make a save yet again.

Ron was red-faced now, and seemed to be swea ng buckets. He actually

managed to make one save somehow, but fumbled and dropped the
Quaffle, allowing one of the Slytherin Chasers to grab it again. Harry
sighed. He had to do something about this, or the snakes would win the
game whether he caught the Snitch or not.

Being roughly in the middle of the pitch right then, he made a sharp
turn towards the Gryffindor goal posts and accelerated. His sudden
change of direc on didn't go unno ced by the commentator.

"...And Po er suddenly dives towards the Gryffindor's end of the field!

Has he seen the Snitch?"

Harry aimed the front of the broom straight at his best mate who was
hovering in front of the middle goal post, and put on some more speed.
He could see Ron's eyes bulge comically in surprise, and his mouth open
to say something.

"Ron! Let's see you clench those teeth!" Harry roared as he drew back
his hand, s ll on a collision course with his team's Keeper. He dropped
his speed rapidly when he was just a few feet away, and punched Ron in
the face.

Harry's next words seemed oddly loud in the sudden silence. "Have you
snapped out of it, mate? Because if you haven't, I can always deck you a
few more mes."

"N-no Harry, I'm good now..." stu ered Ron, too shocked to even get
angry.

"Brilliant. Now let's win this!" And Harry zoomed away, climbing up to
the typical Seeker al tude which gave him a be er view of the whole
pitch.

"Well, I don't know what the bloody hell just happened with Po er and
Weasley there, but you can't foul your teammates, so the game
con nues," noted Jordan, clearly confused about the whole situa on.
"Slytherin in possession, Montague has the Quaffle, passes it to
Warrington, who passes it back to Montague... Spinnet tries to intercept,
but is nearly hit by a stray bludger – do your job, Weasleys! Montague
reaches the scoring area unchecked, he shoots, and... Ronald Weasley
makes the save! Unbelievable! Looks like Gryffindor is back in the
game!"

Harry smiled inwardly and con nued to take unhurried laps around the
pitch, Malfoy almost mirroring his movements. Just a few minutes later,
he no ced the telltale golden glint on the side opposite to him, almost
directly below Malfoy. Taking care not to alert his opponent to his
discovery, he con nued flying in the same direc on for a few seconds,
watching Malfoy unknowingly put more distance between himself and
the Snitch. Not being able to hold back anymore, he grabbed onto his
broom firmly and shot towards the ny flu ering ball.

"It looks like Po er is chasing the Snitch!" Lee's excited voice barely
reached him through the whoosh of wind in his ears.
"Fuck you, Lee," he mu ered, seeing how the commentator's words
alerted Malfoy to the fact a few seconds before he would have caught
on by himself. Now the blond ponce was diving down and towards the
Snitch as well, and he was much closer to Harry.

But he had no Firebolt, never mind a modified one. Harry leaned

forward and coaxed more speed out of his brooms ck, accelera ng
faster and faster, un l his eyes started watering and he could barely
breathe due to the incoming rush of air. The protec ve charms, which
normally took care of that, clearly weren't rated for this sort of speed.
He fla ened himself against the handle and struggled to extend one arm
against the resistance of the wind.

Draco was already reaching towards the Snitch with a triumphant

expression on his face, when his opponent shot by like a Muggle rocket,
taking the ny ball with him and causing the Slytherin Seeker to lose
control of his broom in the turbulence Harry le in his wake. Draco could
only gape dumbly as Harry whizzed right past the boundaries of the
pitch, grazing against the wooden spectator stands with his le leg. The
boy was finally able to slow down and turn around near the Forbidden
Forest, and returned to the Quidditch pitch holding the Snitch up in his
right hand, basking in the deafening cheers of the spectators.

Gryffindor's celebra ons were short-lived. They barely had me to

congratulate each other on a well-played game when they were
interrupted by the signature cough of Hogwarts' most-hated teacher.

"Hem, hem."

Harry groaned. "Oh, fuck me."

"Gladly," breathed one of the fangirls surrounding the team.

"Really?" He perked up. "Who said that?"

"Mr. Po er," Umbridge's acidly sweet voice silenced the crowd. "You
should listen when your be ers are speaking."
"So you're saying I shouldn't be listening to you?" Harry feigned
confusion.

Even his jab didn't wipe the sickly smile of Umbridge's pasty face.
"Imper nent as always, Mr. Po er. I don't think you will be in the mood
to joke a er I'm through with you. First, you will hand over that broom
to me."

"Why should I?" Harry moved his Firebolt behind his back, and was
heartened to see his team surrounding him in a show of support.

"The rules clearly state that only brooms cks made by cer fied
manufacturers are to be used. In addi on, tampering with brooms cks is
also forbidden. It's for your own safety, you know; you could have
seriously injured yourself or poor Mr. Malfoy, had you crashed into him
at that speed."

"Did you or did you not tamper with your broom, Mr. Po er?"
McGonagall cut into the conversa on.

"Uh... maybe a li le," Harry admi ed reluctantly. "I was just curious to
see its full poten al."

McGonagall frowned. "I see. I'm truly sorry, Mr. Po er, but Madam
Umbridge is correct in this case. However, I shall be the one to hold on
to your broom un l this ma er is resolved."

"Sure, Professor, you can hold my broom any me," Harry said cheekily.

"Mr. Po er!" Minerva pursed her lips and tried to pretend she wasn't
blushing.

"Hem, hem. That is not all, Mr. Po er. A er that appalling behavior you
demonstrated on the pitch – punching a fellow athlete, and your own
teammate, no less – I'm afraid I have no choice but to ban you from
playing ever again." Umbridge smiled predatorily as she delivered the
final line. Harry thought she actually looked aroused at the thought of
causing him misery, and shuddered at the idea.

Indignant shouts greeted the High Inquisitor's words, McGonagall's voice

among them. Even Ron stood up for Harry, despite s ll spor ng a
swollen cheek.

"I would have punched him myself if Harry didn't," declared Angelina.

"We were about to–"

"Clobber him on the head with our bats," agreed the Weasley twins.

"I see," Umbridge stated grimly. "The problem is more deeply ingrained
than I thought. Then I have no choice but to disband the Gryffindor
Quidditch team altogether un l further no ce."

The furious shouts were near deafening this me, but all they managed
to do was make Umbridge smile even wider. Harry just stared at her, not
saying anything. This was really the final straw. He had to create a
suitable plan and act.

But first, he had to visit the hospital wing to get his leg looked at.
7. Hospital Wing

Madam Pomfrey, being the experienced school nurse that she was, knew
exactly what to expect a er a Quidditch match, as well as the best way
to deal with a large group of lightly injured students. Most scrapes and
bruises (including Ron's swollen cheek, for which Harry gave him an
apologe c look) took her mere moments to fix, and even healing one of
the Slytherin Chasers who broke his ribs didn't take very long. Harry
hung back and let the Healer do her work un l he was the only one le
in the hospital wing – barring Ka e Bell, who turned out to have
suffered a mild concussion and was currently confined to a bed.

"Mr. Po er, no surprise there," Pomfrey grumbled good-naturedly.

"What ails you?"

"Scraped my leg," Harry explained.

The Healer tu ed at the sight. Harry's pants were torn on the side where
his leg made contact with the spectator stands, and he was bleeding
from mul ple shallow cuts. She vanished the ruined garment altogether
and cleaned the wound before applying some pleasantly smelling
poul ce to it.

"That will do it for the cuts, but you have some severe bruising, young
man. I'm surprised you managed to walk up here on your own."

"It hurt to walk, so I put a Numbing Charm on it."

Pomfrey sighed. "You really should have asked your friends to float you
up here. Well, no ma er. This healing po on will fix you right up."

Harry eyed the phial that was handed to him with suspicion. "Are you
sure this is a healing po on, Madam Pomfrey?"

"Of course, Mr. Po er."

"But it's blue. Shouldn't it be red?"

"Mr. Po er, I have been a cer fied Healer for several decades now. I
assure you, blue is a proper color for this type of a healing po on. Now
drink it so I can have my tea break."

"That makes no sense whatsoever," Harry mu ered under his breath,

but downed the bi er-tas ng liquid.

The matron nodded approvingly. "Let it work for half an hour, then you
can go." She turned towards the other occupied bed. "Same to you,
young lady, unless you s ll feel dizzy by that me."

"Got it," Ka e replied cheerfully. She turned towards Harry and beamed,
s ll high on the thrill of victory. "Good game, eh, Harry?"

"Brilliant," he agreed. "I just hope it's not our last one."

"Nah, don't worry. McGonagall loves Quidditch just as much as we do.

I'm sure she'll get Umbridge to reform our team."

Harry wasn't so certain, but he didn't want to ruin Ka e's good mood, so
he didn't say anything. A er a few minutes of companionable silence, it
occurred to him to ask his teammate about something that had been
bothering him since the end of the game.

"So, Ka e, do you know why McGonagall had to confiscate my broom?

Seems like a silly rule to me," Harry inquired, more curious than angry.
He was expec ng his Head of the House to return him his Firebolt any
me now, a er all.

"I think the school was forced to add that rule because of pressure from
brooms ck manufacturers," Ka e explained promptly. "It's actually
against the law to make any modifica ons to your brooms ck, you
know."

Harry was outraged. "Seriously? But it's my brooms ck! It cost like four
hundred galleons!" Of course, Sirius was the one that actually paid for it,
but that wasn't the crux of the ma er.
"Well, it's yours to use, but not to modify, nker with, alter, or make
copies of, if I remember the wording correctly. All of this should have
been covered in the sales agreement you signed."

Oh yeah, Sirius had men oned that to him in passing. "Aren't those
things like 30 pages of small print that no one ever reads?"

"Yup. You're lucky you didn't give them your soul or firstborn child,
really."

Harry groaned. "I guess greedy corpora ons are the same everywhere."

Poppy was relaxing in her office with a nice mug of hot tea. The hospital
wing was blessedly empty, the last Quidditch vic ms finally taken care of.
She set the cup down with a sigh when a bell on her desk went off, and
stuck her head through the office door to see who had entered her
realm.

"Back so soon, Mr. Po er?" she asked, not too concerned. The boy was
moving on his own power, so he couldn't have been hurt too much. "Is
your leg s ll bothering you?"

"No, nothing like that, Madam. It's just, well, I heard something
interes ng from Hermione. She said you could measure power levels."

"If you mean your innate magical power, then yes, I can do that."

"Could you measure mine?"

"I suppose that would be fine, Mr. Po er, but why?"

"Just curious about how strong I am. Why isn't this done rou nely?"

"There's just no point, Mr. Po er," Pomfrey explained while digging

through a cupboard for the rarely used item. "Even the least capable
witch or wizard can adequately perform most of the spellwork taught at
Hogwarts. It's the repeated cas ng that can be a problem. We mostly
use this device to diagnose magical exhaus on, although that's a very
rare occurrence."

The device in ques on looked like a rather fancy monocle with a golden
frame and several dials. The nurse turned the largest of them and then
simply looked at Harry through the glass.

"Well, your core is currently at about 1,000 thaums. I daresay you are
going to be quite a powerful wizard when you come of age, Mr. Po er."

Oddly enough, the boy didn't seem too happy about it. He frowned and
deliberated for a bit, then told Pomfrey that he'd come back in a few
minutes and to please not put the magimeter away. She just shook her
head at Po er's weird behavior and went back to her office to finish her
tea.

True to his word, the young wizard did come back in a few minutes,
although the school nurse had to do a double take at his appearance.
Harry seemed to have dyed his hair yellow and spiked it up to the point
where it looked quite ridiculous. Ignoring her raised eyebrows, the boy
started flexing his muscles and... groaning?

"Mr. Po er, do you require a mental evalua on?" the Healer asked in a
raised voice.

"I'm fine," Harry grunted back. "Do it... measure me... now!"

Pomfrey raised her hands in exaspera on, but acquiesced. Somehow it

seemed easier to just go with it, and, unlike the Headmaster, she had no
qualms about choosing the easy way out. Raising the magimeter to her
right eye, she fiddled with the dial, then stared at the straining figure.

"My word," she whispered in shock. "It's... it's over nine thousand!"

"Fucking sweet!" Harry shouted triumphantly. "It worked!"

Pomfrey moved the magimeter away from her eye and looked at it
intently, then facepalmed. Her inexperience with the device was to
blame.

"No, wait, Mr. Po er, I had it upside down. It's actually 1,006."

"Well, fuck."

"As a punishment for foul language, you will assist me in the hospital
wing a er class." Pomfrey did her best to hide her delight at ge ng
some unpaid labor.

"Aww, fiddles cks."

A/N: The 1,006 / Over 9000 joke is shamelessly stolen from the DBZ
Abridged series by TeamFourStar.
8. The Hog's Head Mee ng

The Hog's Head was filled to the brim with students; it felt like most of
the upper-years were there, and a good por on of the younger wizards
and witches as well. Harry took the figura ve stage nervously and
started explaining what they were hoping to accomplish. Namely, a club
to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, seeing how Umbridge wasn't
actually teaching them any spells. As he stopped momentarily to take a
breath, he was interrupted by Mandy Brocklehurst, of all people.

"Excuse me, Po er," she said rather sharply. "I think you've talked
enough already – why not have others have a say in how they think this
club should be run as well?"

"Uhh.. sure, go ahead, Mandy."

Glaring at Harry for no reason he could discern, she walked to the center
of the pub and cleared her throat.

"Hogwarts curriculum is very tradi onal and based on patriarchal values.

Let's use this chance to create a safe space for marginalized groups,
away from that toxic ideology. To begin with, I think we should only
learn magic which does not require a wand, like Divina on or
Arithmancy. Wands are phallic-shaped, and as such, inherently
misogynis c. Some people can get triggered just by the sight of one."

There was a stunned silence a er Mandy's speech, but it was broken

when Millicent Bulstrode and Marie a Edgecombe started clapping. The
Weasley twins glanced at each other, snorted, and joined in the
applause as well. Hermione, on the other hand, was frowning and
waving her hand in the air.

"Yes?" Mandy asked sweetly.

"We won't learn to cast defensive spells without using our wands,"
Hermione pointed out simply.
"There are other ways of knowing that are no less valid than these
obviously patriarchal methods of learning," Brocklehurst explained
politely.

Hermione seemed u erly confused. "But... learning spells is important!"

"She must be suffering from internalized misogyny," Milicent said wisely

in her deep voice.

"What does that even mean?" piped up someone from the younger kids
who had been staying silent up ll now.

"It's not my job to educate you, shitlord," Milicent retorted, glaring at

the younger boy who seemed to shrink under her gaze.

The third of their trio, Marie a, picked this moment to join the
conversa on. "Ugh, this club would be so problema c," she proclaimed
while looking around and wrinkling her nose disgustedly in an
exaggerated manner. "Almost half of our poten al members are white
cis males."

Harry scratched his head, baffled at the direc on the mee ng was going.
He had no idea what Marie a was complaining about, so he thought
he'd ask. Hopefully he wouldn't get called a 'shitlord' in the process,
whatever that meant.

"Um, why is that so strange? As far as I know, the majority of Bri sh

popula on is white. So if you pick fi y random people from all over the
country, you would probably get a similar group to ours. It's
propor onal."

Mandy rolled her eyes in disgust. "Stop mansplaining, Po er!"

"He's so ignorant," boomed Milicent.

"Doesn't see anything over his straight white male privilege," added
Marie a, pu ng her face in her hands. "I can't... I just can't."
If anything, that made Harry even more puzzled. "You're saying 'straight'
as if it was a bad thing... Hey, wait, are you girls lesbians?" he asked a
li le hopefully.

"I'm a queer heterosexual," Marie a supplied helpfully. "It means I'm

straight, but queer too, so I'm very oppressed."

"If you must know, I'm demisexual and genderfluid. My pronouns are xe
/ xir on Tuesdays, and they / them the rest of the me. People always
forget, and female pronouns trigger me. So you should see why I don't
have much pa ence for ignorant cishet males." Mandy somehow
managed to say all that in one breath.

Milicent chuckled in response and shi ed in her chair, causing it to creak

under he massive weight. "You girls have it so easy. I am a genderless
pansexual homoroman c fat-posi ve wol in. Society tries to crush my
iden ty every day. I'm clearly the most oppressed here, so my opinion is
the most valid one."

"Oh, please," snorted Mandy. "Try iden fying as a magic-posi ve trans-

Muggle. People don't understand me because I don't fit in their
percep on of a typical witch."

"You need to check your thin privilege," Milicent grunted, a emp ng to

get up and giving up a few seconds later. "I can't get around as easy as
you because the world is biased against fat people. Besides, you can't
imagine what's it like being a wol in when werewolves are constantly
appropria ng our issues."

"Check your pureblood privilege!"

"Stop shaming my heritage!"

"White people have no heritage or culture, you ignorant rich girl!"

"I am not a girl! Stop erasing my iden ty!"

The rest of the people at the Hog's Head, including the aged barman,
were watching the spectacle with glassy eyes. Hermione used this
opportunity to lean closer to Harry and hurriedly whisper something
into his ear. A nearby observer would have heard the words 'Tumblr' and
'SJW' men oned mul ple mes.

Harry nodded to himself as Hermione finished her explana on. He now

knew how to win this Oppression Olympics and take back control of the
mee ng.

"Excuse me, lad- er, I mean, respected womyn."

He got three glares as a reply, but at least they were silent for now.

"First of all, I'd like to humbly apologize for being born with this pasty
white complexion, as well as possessing a penis. I understand now that I
belong to a group which oppresses womyn merely by exis ng, and I am
deeply sorry about that, even though I understand that my apology
does nothing to alleviate your suffering."

"Well, that's a start," grumbled Mandy, a li le mollified.

"Go on," grunted Milicent.

"That being said, I have an admission to make. You see, I have the Dark
Lord as my headmate, so I am oppressed every day by singleist and
neurotypicalist bigots who have no idea what's it like to be mul souled,
much less have Voldemort in your head all the me."

"White cis males can't be oppressed," Brocklehurst parroted

automa cally.

"I don't iden fy as a white male, though. I am, in fact, a mul ple system;
Harry Po er is simply the one fron ng right now." Harry smirked at using
their own weapon against them; he had to make sure to thank
Hermione later.
His words were greeted by silence. The trio of womyn looked at each
other though ully, while the other students observed the newest
development with baited breath. The Weasley twins were ea ng
popcorn and offering it to the people around them.

"You know, he's got a point," said Milicent slowly.

"Oh, I suppose," Marie a agreed reluctantly.

"Very well, then. As the most oppressed person here, you can be the
leader, Po er," Mandy stated.

Harry nodded somberly. "Thank you. So, where were we..."

9. Occlumency

"Come in, Mr. Po er. Thank you for making your way up here so quickly.
We have some important ma ers to discuss."

"Of course, sir," Harry answered, stepping into the office and heading
towards the chair that Dumbledore indicated to him with a wave of his
hand.

"What do you know of Occlumency, Mr. Po er?" Dumbledore asked out

of the blue.

"Um... nothing, sir." Harry briefly wondered why the Headmaster was
avoiding his eyes so studiously. There usually was a good reason for the
ancient wizard's seemingly odd and eccentric behavior.

"Can't say I didn't expect that answer, Mr. Po er – Occlumency isn't

exactly enjoying great popularity these days. But I thought, perhaps,
your more studious friend Ms. Granger would have come across it at
some point – no? Well, no ma er." Dumbledore sighed and leaned back
in his chair, staring resolutely at the ceiling as he explained. "Occlumency
is a rather obscure branch of magic, closely related to some Muggle
medita on techniques. Simply put, it allows the prac oner to protect
his or her mind against external threats. That means Legilimency,
usually, but I believe it would be of help in your rather unique situa on
as well."

'So that's why he's not mee ng my eyes... He thinks Voldemort can get to
him through me!' Harry realized with a start. It was a harsh reminder
that the enemy could reach him even behind the safety of Hogwarts
walls. He had to learn to defend himself as soon as possible.

"That seems like a highly useful skill to have, sir. Will you be teaching
me?"

"I'm afraid my other du es take up too much me for this to be an

op on. No, Mr. Po er – you will be taught by Professor Snape, who has
graciously agreed to pass on his impressive skills in the art to you."

Harry got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Me and Snape – we don't
really get along, sir."

"Professor Snape, Mr. Po er."

"Yeah, him," Harry answered nonchalantly, ignoring the frown that

crossed Dumbledore's face for a moment. "Look, sir, you know full well
the man hates my guts. You can't possibly expect him to behave in a
professional manner while teaching me one-on-one, when he can't even
do that in a classroom full of other students."

"It is hardly your place to ques on Professor Snape's teaching methods,

Mr. Po er," Dumbledore reprimanded him mildly. "I'm well aware of the
mutual enmity between you, yet I'm hoping it can be overcome, or at
least put aside in this case. Professor Snape is the only Master
Occlumens besides myself in this school, and it is impera ve that you
learn it as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Harry agreed dejectedly. There was no way this was going to go
well.

"Come in, Po er," Snape ordered, his silky voice not betraying any
emo ons.

Harry entered the Po ons Master's office, closing the door behind him
and carefully observing the room's other inhabitant. Snape already had
his wand out, and was looking at him expectantly.

"So, how is this going to work?" Harry asked slowly as he took a step
towards his supposed mentor. "I tried looking up Occlumency in the
library, but–"

"Clear your mind, Po er," Snape interrupted him impa ently.

"Do you have any ps? I tried doing it yesterday, and–"

"Legilimens!" Snape snarled with a malevolent smile.

Harry didn't even have me to blink before Snape's office disappeared

and he found himself bodiless, floa ng in a nondescript place
surrounded by flashes of indecipherable color and sound. A er some
me the colors coalesced into a coherent picture, and he found himself
watching and oddly clear and vivid scene from his childhood. Harry was
being chased by one of Aunt Marge's bulldogs, Ripper.

Observing a younger version of himself climb the tree in the Dursleys'

backyard to escape the vicious dog, Harry suddenly felt a wave of
embarrassment come over him as he realized that Snape was seeing the
memory as well.

As if reac ng to his emo on, the scene quickly morphed into one that
took place a year later. Harry was weeding the garden, with his Aunt
standing behind him and cri cizing his every move. The memory then
quickly changed to another, and another, un l they were being looked at
– and discarded – so quickly, Harry felt dizzy and nauseous.

"No," he moaned, hearing his voice come from somewhere far away and
suddenly becoming aware of his body again. "Stop it."

But Snape showed no signs of relen ng. He was rummaging through

Harry's memories ruthlessly, cas ng aside the ones he deemed as boring,
while lingering on the most shameful and mor fying recollec ons he
could find.

When Snape came across a par cularly humilia ng event, Harry

struggled to will it away with all his might, trying instead to recall
something innocuous and happy. To his great surprise, the previous
memory flickered momentarily, replaced by Harry picking his wand at
Ollivanders – then came back as he lost his focus.
Harry grinned. He knew what to do now. As Snape con nued to rifle
through his mind, he tried instead to think back to the previous summer
– in par cular, the repugnant, vile images that had been seared into his
brain as he braved the dark recesses of the internet. Recalling the
associated emo ons – disgust, and morbid fascina on – helped in
making the memories more clear. His Patronus training was surprisingly
useful in this regard.

"Let's see how you like Goatse, Professor," Harry murmured. "2 Girls 1
Cup should also be right up your alley, you sleazy bastard. And don't
forget Lemonparty. Go a remember the classics."

As Harry focused on one disturbing image a er another, he quickly

became aware of the foreign presence in his mind – and that it was
trying to pull away.

"Not so fast, Professor. We haven't even go en to the really fucked up

shit yet. Spacedicks is next, so bite the pillow."

Harry was in full control of the mental connec on at this point. He no

longer had to view each and every image in his head. Instead, he
pumped them straight into Snape's mind, forcing the man to relive them
as if he was there, his own imagina on supplying the missing senses of
smell and sound. The magics involved made the shock material more
realis c than Harry himself remembered. To Snape's unaccustomed
mind, it was simply too much to bear.

When Harry finally let go, his vic m promptly collapsed and emp ed the
contents of his stomach on the floor. Harry took a few steps back and
wrinkled his nose in disgust. It looked like Snape had shepherd's pie for
dinner.

"Oh, Merlin... what did you?..." the man moaned weakly.

Harry waited politely for Snape to stop heaving and catch his breath.
Finally, the Po ons Master wiped his lips with his sleeve, elici ng
another look of disgust from Harry, and tried speaking again. His
ques on was not something Harry expected, however.

"That woman... why was she defeca ng on her own face? Why?" Snape
demanded with a trembling voice and a horrified look on his face.

"What? Of all the things I've shown you, it's Tubgirl that did you in? You
sure have a weak stomach, Professor."

"Where in the world did you even see these things, Po er?"

"A wonderful Muggle inven on called the internet."

"Muggles... They are even more vile and depraved than I thought!"

"Don't be so quick to judge, Professor. If wizards had internet, I shudder

to think what crazy shit you fuckers would come up with."

That Snape completely ignored Harry's usage of foul language was a

testament to how shaken up he was. "I wish you had never entered my
classroom, Po er. I wish I never had to delve into that cesspit you call
your mind. I wish I had never seen..."

"What has been seen cannot be unseen, Professor," said Harry wisely,
enjoying the haunted look in Snape's eyes en rely too much.

A few days passed since the incident. Harry was never called back for
more Occlumency lessons, which suited him just fine. In fact, he
suspected that his ac ons had scarred Snape for life, since the man not
only avoided making eye contact with Harry, but actually stayed as far
away from him as possible during Po ons. Which, again, was a welcome
change from the usual rou ne.

Dumbledore finally contacted him a whole week later. Harry was

a emp ng to photograph Crookshanks for a lolcat picture with the
camera he had borrowed from Colin Creevey, when a nervous fourth-
year Gryffindor gave him a note asking him to report to Dumbledore's
office at 4 PM. Harry looked at the clock, sighed, and went to give Colin
his camera back before star ng the long trek to Headmaster's tower.

"Ah, Harry! It's good to see you, my boy," Dumbledore greeted him
cheerfully.

"You seem rather more chipper than last me, sir," Harry observed
carefully, no ng that Dumbledore had no trouble mee ng his eyes now.

"But of course! I was so concerned you would have trouble learning

Occlumency from Severus, but I needn't have worried. Who knew you
would have a natural talent for the art? Why, Severus told me he had
never seen anything like it!"

Harry snorted. "He said that, huh?"

"Indeed. And while I trust his judgement, I admit I am rather curious as

to what techniques you employed to impress him so much. I was hoping
that you would allow me to test your defenses myself."

"If you insist, sir," Harry said slowly, suddenly nervous. He took a deep
breath and mentally prepared himself for an assault on his mind, but
was perplexed to see Dumbledore lean back on his chair instead of
a emp ng to cast the Legilimens spell. In fact, the Headmaster wasn't
making any threatening moves at all, and was simply giving Harry a calm,
grandfatherly look.

'I wonder if he's proud of me,' Harry thought unexpectedly. The

Professor certainly seemed impressed by Harry's achievement, such as it
was. In contrast, his own 'family' had never praised Harry for anything.

S ll staring at Dumbledore's mo onless figure, Harry found his mind

wandering, thinking back to his childhood and idly comparing it to his
current life. Things were so much be er now that he had friends, magic,
and even money of his own to spend as he saw fit. Speaking of which,
the Valen ne's day was coming up – was he going to buy a present for
the special girl in his life?

The thought was so unusual for Harry, that it shook him out of his
reverie. It was then that he realized that Dumbledore's mental a ack
was already underway; where Snape used brute force, the Headmaster
was more sneaky, using subtle sugges ons to make his target think he
was pondering something by his own accord.

'Interested in my roman c life, are you?' Harry thought indignantly.

'Well, I believe I have something more exci ng to show you...'

Harry rummaged through his memories for a suitably gross and revol ng
picture. The Headmaster was a tough nut to crack – somehow, Harry
didn't think Blue Waffle or Lemonparty was going to cut it this me.
Actually, if the rumors about the old wizard's preferences were true, he
just might enjoy the la er.

'I'll go with good old Google Images,' Harry decided with a predatory
grin. 'Start with trypophobia and move on to some really messed up
medical stuff.' The young man himself shuddered at having to recall
some of the more vomit-inducing visuals, but it had to be done... for the
greater good.

It took him even less me than it did with Snape. Harry soon stood
victorious over Dumbledore, who was rather pale and looked like he had
aged a decade or two in the last few minutes. The Headmaster reached
for a lemon drop, then withdrew his shaking hand and went for his
alcohol stash instead. He poured himself a generous measure of Ogden's
finest and downed it in one gulp. Harry was impressed despite himself.
The Weasley twins had made him try the stuff some me ago, and he
had coughed for five minutes a erwards.

"That was quite unorthodox, Harry. Unorthodox, but undoubtedly

effec ve," Dumbledore spoke in a hoarse voice. "I now understand why
Severus had such a gleeful look on his face when he reported having
nothing more to teach you and suggested I test your defenses myself. I
wonder if the man holds a grudge against me for some reason..."

"Would you like to test me again, sir? I could really use more prac ce,"
suggested Harry innocently.

"Merlin, no! Er... that is to say, I don't believe it's going to be necessary.
You've done quite well, my boy, quite well indeed."

"If you say so, sir. Will that be all, then?"

"Yes, yes. Don't let me keep you any longer." Dumbledore dismissed
Harry, avoiding eye contact once again – but for different reasons this
me. As Harry was leaving, he witnessed the wizened Headmaster
forgoing to glass altogether and taking a long swig straight from the
bo le. Damn. Whatever else could be said about the old man, he sure
could drink.
10. The Bet

Harry was stomping through the shadowy corridors of Hogwarts, fuming.

Umbridge had really done it this me. His best mate, Ron Weasley, had
ended up with a bleeding hand, looking as if he had cut himself like
some emo kid on Tumblr. And that wasn't even the worst part – no, it
was something their Head of the House said. Oh, sure, McGonagall was
suitably horrified and promised she'd do her best to convince Umbridge
to stop using the blood quill for deten ons. However, she also told them
not to expect too much since her hands were ed, and advised to stay
down and not provoke the DADA teacher.

In other words, the wizarding world was completely fine with torturing
students for trivial misdemeanors, as long as it was done under the
authority of the Ministry. Harry couldn't imagine this flying in a Muggle
school... Not that he missed them much.

Harry was so preoccupied with the injus ce of it all that he didn't no ce

his legs carry him into a less-visited part of the castle, where the
normally clean floors were covered with a visible layer of dust. Nor did
he spot the pe te blonde staring at the rolling grounds through a
window, un l her serene voice brought him back to reality.

"Hello, Harry Po er. Have you come to enjoy the view as well?"

"Gah! Er, hello, Luna. I didn't see you there." He rubbed the back of his
neck awkwardly. Luna was s ll looking out through the window, and
Harry couldn't figure out how she recognized him. "No, I just..."

"You look rather distracted. Is it the Wrackspurts?" Luna finally turned

around and peered at him with a concerned expression.

"Worse," Harry replied darkly. "It's Umbridge."

"Oh." Luna's face fell slightly. "What did the Grand Toady of the Ministry
do this me?"
Chuckling at the tle Luna assigned to Umbridge, Harry found himself
telling her the whole chain of events that led him to being in the
abandoned corridor. Luna listened with wide eyes, like she was hearing
the most interes ng story in the world.

"Ronald got in trouble? I thought you would be the one to be assigned a

deten on, Harry. I don't know what Umbridge is talking about in your
class, but she's always calling you a liar and a fraud and some mes a
nutcase in ours."

"Thanks for that, Luna", Harry said dryly.

"You're welcome," she replied brightly.

"Um... well. As I was saying, Ron got really mad and sort of blew up at
Umbridge. Me, I just ignore her completely unless she asks me a direct
ques on. Then I agree with everything she says, but inject as much
sarcasm into my voice as possible. If she calls me out, I deny doing it. It's
pre y damn sa sfying to watch her get all confused and frustrated, even
though the stuff she says really rustles my jimmies some mes. Ron,
however, is a bit more... straigh orward."

"Yes, I've no ced that Ronald tends to put his foot in his mouth rather
o en," Luna observed. "But I'm glad that you are able to ignore the
harassment, Harry. I know it's not easy, but it's for the best."

"Is it?" Harry asked harshly, feeling his anger return. He knew a bit about
Luna's situa on in the Ravenclaw house, and it made him even more
upset than the taunts he had to experience during every DADA lesson.
"If we never fight back, if we never say or do anything, these- these
people, they will think they can just keep running roughshod over us!"
Seeing Luna recoil, he lowered his voice before con nuing, "but I just
don't know what to do! Even McGonagall told us to keep our heads
down and just accept it. I just... I just wish someone would do something
about that damned bitch!"

"Why not you, Harry?"

"...Me?"

"Yes, you! You are a hero, Harry. And the hero always defeats the evil,
ugly witch."

"I'm no hero," Harry spat out bi erly. "Just because of what happened
fi een years ago..."

Luna shook her head vehemently. "It's not because of that! Well, it's
because of that, too, but mostly it's because who you are now. Everyone
in the DA looks up to you, Harry. I look up to you."

Harry turned away so he wouldn't see the earnest look in her eyes. "I
don't know what you are expec ng. I have no shiny sword or armor. I'm
not even that brave. All I have is some luck and a few tricks."

Luna's pearly laughter echoed in the hallway. Harry might have been
offended, if he wasn't so surprised.

"Don't be silly, Harry," Luna admonished him as she wiped her eyes.
"That stuff belongs in fairy tales. Or is it tails? I was never quite sure."

"I know that," Harry protested. "It's just... I'm not anyone special, that's
all. Besides, anything I might do, it would not be heroic at all. I'm just so
angry, I'm liable to curse her when she walks alone through some
deserted hallway or something."

"Hmm..." Luna put a finger on her lips, pondering something, then

clapped her hands animatedly. "Yes, that makes perfect sense. You could
be a dark hero, Harry. Oh, how exci ng!"

"I'm a what now?"

"A dark hero! It means you're s ll a hero, but you can use any means
necessary to defeat the bad guys."
"Okay," said Harry slowly. "Well, I'm glad we figured that one out. S ll, I
don't see what I could possibly do about Umbridge. Unless you want me
to publicly duel her or something."

Luna perked up. "That would be so fun to watch! Oh, but then you'd get
expelled, and Hogwarts would get invaded by Death Eaters and fall
without you here to protect it. And, more importantly, I would really
miss you."

"Don't worry Luna, I'm not going to do that," Harry reassured the girl,
amused by her train of thought.

"Brilliant! Because, really, a bit of luck, a few tricks, and a healthy dose
of anger should be more than enough to drive the likes of Umbridge out
of this castle."

"You really think so?" Harry inquired scep cally.

"It's as obvious to me as those two Nargles copula ng in your hair,

Harry," Luna replied with utmost seriousness. "The only thing you lack
right now is mo va on."

"Uh... mo va on?" Harry asked distractedly, running his hand through

his messy hair.

"That's right. It wouldn't be a proper quest without a reward at the end,

would it? But there has to be element of risk, as well. With that in mind,
I suggest a friendly compe on."

"I'm listening."

"We both will do our best to make Umbridge leave Hogwarts, and the
one who gets her to do that first, wins! Sounds quite fun, don't you
think?"

"That's a weird concept of fun, Luna," Harry chucked, shaking his head.
"But you really think we can do something like that, huh? All right...
challenge accepted."

"Oh, goody!" Luna jumped up and down with excitement. "Let's shake
on it!"

And so they did. Only then did it occur to Harry to ask Luna what the
condi ons of the bet would be.

"Hmm..." She repeated the same exaggerated gesture as she considered

the ques on. "Let's try un l the end of the year – if we can't do it by
then, maybe we deserve to be ruled by the Grand Toady. As for the
reward... oh, I know! If I win, I'll have you finishing all your sentences
with 'nya' for three days!"

Harry was thankful he wasn't drinking anything at that me, because he

would surely have spat it out, or possibly choked to death.

"W-what?" he spu ered.

"If you lose, you will have to add 'nya' to the end of every sentence for
three days," Luna repeated pa ently, her grey eyes sparkling with
mischief. "You'll get bonus points if you wear cat ears. Maybe Hermione
could give you some pointers for that."

"How do you even... You know what – never mind." Harry decided it took
en rely too much effort to try to figure out every li le thing about Luna.
It was so much easier to just roll with it. "Yeah. Yeah, I agree. Ac ng like
a weirdo for a few days is a small price to pay if you can actually manage
to oust Umbridge."

"This is going to be so much fun! I'm sure you will enjoy ge ng in touch
with your inner feline, Harry."

"If you say so, Luna. You haven't won yet, though!"

"I'm glad to see you mo vated, Harry. But this has to go both ways, you
know. You s ll haven't said what you want me to do in case you win."
"Oh, so that's how it's going to work? Let me think..."

"I'll do anything, Harry," Luna supplied helpfully, ba ng her eyelashes at

him.

"Anything, huh?"

"Well, anything that wouldn't leave me unfit for marriage," Luna

clarified, causing Harry to go into a coughing fit.

"All right, I think I got it. I'll try to keep things in the same spirit." Harry
smirked at the shorter girl who was looking at him curiously. He was
ge ng used to her wide-eyed gaze. "If I win, you're going to call me
'Onii-chan' for a week. Furthermore, since we don't have any classes
together, we actually have to meet at least once a day."

Harry's wide grin faded slowly as Luna stayed silent, giving him a look
that could only be interpreted as pity. When she finally spoke, her voice
was nged with sadness, and Harry was almost dreading what she was
about to say. "Poor li le Harry – I never knew you were that lonely. Very
well, if you win, I'll do my best to cheer you up as only a fantasy version
of a li le sister can. Onii-chan."

Luna had whispered the last word while standing on her ptoes and
leaning over, her hot breath ckling Harry's ear and causing him to
blush. He had made up his demand on a whim, but this eccentric elfin
girl calling him that had an unexpected, yet undeniable effect.

In other words, it was cute as fuck.

"Anyway, Luna" – Harry cleared his throat – "where did you pick up this
'nya' thing?"

"Daddy became interested in Muggle entertainment a few years ago,

a er he watched a French movie about an imprisoned Marquis who
wrote dirty books and talked to his willy. I got into it as well. Muggle
entertainment, that is, not the French film – although that was also
s rring, in a way. Wizards have nothing comparable, really."

Harry was momentarily distracted by the descrip on of a movie he

doubted even existed, but then agreed enthusias cally with Luna's
assessment. "I know, right? I almost feel sorry for the purebloods
some mes. Maybe they're ac ng so self-important and condescending
because they have nothing be er to do. Uh, present company
excluded."

"Oh, it's hardly just that, Harry. Us purebloods are more suscep ble to
magical maladies like the Scornful Syndrome. Of course, I wear charms to
protect myself, which is why I usually have a sunny and pleasant
disposi on," Luna stated dreamily, flicking what looked suspiciously like
a radish hanging from her ear.

"I can see that." Harry nodded, amused. "Maybe you could share some
with the Slytherins."

"Oh, I've offered to make some for Pansy before. She seemed rather
confused. Poor girl is clearly suffering from a Wrackspurt infesta on as
well."

Harry chuckled. "Luna, you're the best."

11. The Deten on

While Harry was intent on winning his bet with Luna, deep down he s ll
doubted whether he could actually make the hated woman leave the
castle. A er scrambling about for a few days, he realized that rushing in
blind wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he decided to treat the
whole thing like a quest in a role-playing game. And the first thing one
did when trying to figure out a complex quest was talk to as many NPCs
as possible and fish for informa on.

Harry had learned many fascina ng, if largely useless things a er talking
to the numerous portraits, ghosts, and other students at Hogwarts.
Approaching strangers from other houses wasn't something he did
rou nely, so he felt quite uncomfortable and awkward at first. The hate
for Umbridge seemed to be universal, however, so he quickly found a
common ground – even with the few Slytherins he spoke to.

"Look, Po er, I'd love to get a competent DADA teacher, for a change,"
Aileen Mulligan, a sixth-year Slytherin he had never exchanged a single
word with before, told Harry a er looking around and making sure no
one would see her cha ng with the Boy-Who-Lived. "But Umbridge is
here to stay. Fudge wants her at Hogwarts, and the witch isn't stupid –
poli cally, at least. She keeps well away from the children of the more
influen al families, and as long as she doesn't antagonize someone
important, Wizengamot has no reason to push for her removal."

Harry nodded though ully, and suggested Aileen come to the next DA
mee ng so she could actually prac ce some defensive magic. To his
pleasant surprise, the girl agreed.

They were able to learn some useful spells during the next few mee ngs,
but it wasn't to last. Shortly before Easter, Umbridge barged into the
Room of Requirement looking smug as a toad who just swallowed a big
fat fly, announcing that everyone present was under arrest. To her
shock, only Harry, Hermione, and Ron were le inside, having been
warned about the High Inquisitor's plans beforehand by Dobby. Harry
had intended to stay alone at first, but his two best friends refused to
leave.

Ron kept blaming the Slytherins Harry had accepted into the club all the
way to Dumbledore's office, but it turned out the traitor was Marie a
Edgecombe, one of the girls who was constantly complaining about
things 'triggering' her and telling the boys to check their privilege. He
almost felt sorry for the snitch a er seeing what Hermione's spell did to
her face. The small office also contained McGonagall, Dumbledore, and
Minister Fudge himself, accompanied by two grim-looking Aurors.

Shit really hit the fan when Umbridge gleefully produced the charmed
DA roster. Harry actually felt anxious at this point, not knowing whether
he would be expelled – or worse – but he needn't have worried.
Dumbledore really came through this me and took the hit for Harry like
a true bro, claiming that he was the founder of the DA. Fudge quickly
realized that he had bigger fish to fry. Who cared about some schoolboy
when he could remove a dangerous poli cal opponent?

"You're under arrest, Dumbledore," the Minister proclaimed pompously.

"Surrender your wand to the Aurors and come quietly, now."

"I don't think so, Minister," Dumbledore replied pleasantly, drawing the
aforemen oned wand in a theatrical manner.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Harry murmured to himself, retrea ng

into a corner.

The Minister and soon-to-be wanted criminal exchanged a few more

lines, and then the situa on devolved into total chaos. A minute later,
Dumbledore was gone, and the Ministry officials were, predictably, lying
on the floor. Harry grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arm and
performed a tac cal retreat before anyone could remember that there
was one more poten al arrestee present in the room.

Things changed for the worse at Hogwarts a er that. Most of the

teachers were cowed into submission, or at least didn't openly display
any resistance against the new Headmistress. Umbridge stru ed the
ancient halls like she owned the place, her lackeys – Draco Malfoy chief
among them – following her example. Harry tried to keep his head down
and avoid the so-called Inquisitorial Squad as much as possible, but he
couldn't do it forever. Things eventually came to a head one gloomy
Saturday a ernoon, when Harry was ambushed on his way to the
Library.

"Excuse me," Harry said blandly to the three Slytherins who were
blocking his path. Crabbe and Goyle sniggered while Draco just stood in
the middle of the corridor, looking as self-important as ever.

"Excuse me, please," he repeated, a emp ng to walk around the three

idiots. The sniggers increased in volume. Losing his pa ence, Harry
simply pushed through, knocking Malfoy aside with his shoulder and
strolling away briskly – un l he nearly walked into another member of
the Inquisitorial Squad who had suddenly stepped out from a darkened
alcove in front of him. One more student in Slytherin robes was
approaching from the corridor ahead.

"Careful, Po er," the larger boy said so ly. "Watch where you're going."

Harry's eyes darted around nervously. He was surrounded. The usual trio
of morons were chuckling behind his back, and the much more
dangerous older wizards – Warrington and Montague, if he remembered
correctly – were blocking the corridor in the front, grinning wolfishly.

"Right," Harry said as calmly as he could. "I'll just be going now."

"I don't think so, Po er," Warrington said, preven ng Harry from
escaping. "I don't know what those Muggles you live with have taught
you, but we purebloods follow a certain e que e. It's really rude to
bump into someone and leave without apologizing, you know."

"That's right, Po er," Malfoy drawled imperiously, "the least you could
do a er ac ng like a boorish lout is say you're sorry."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'm sorry, Malfoy. Now, if you will excuse
me..."

Warrington and Montague stepped in front of him again. The two older
wizards had their wands out already, holding them in relaxed grips at
their sides.

"That didn't sound very honest, Po er," Draco said spitefully. "You know
what you should do? Kneel and apologize. Then we might let you go."

"Yeah," Montague spoke for the first me. "Get on your knees!"

"I'm not your mother last night! Stupefy!"

Montague went down with a dumb look of surprise on his face. Harry
trained his wand at Warrington, but the older student was faster.

"Expelliarmus," he intoned lazily, paying no a en on to Montague

collapsing on the floor. Harry's wand sailed into Warrington's
outstretched hand. Harry's fist sailed towards Warrington's nose, and
connected with a sa sfying crunch.

"Ow! Sonovabitch!"

Harry dived for his wand, which Warrington had dropped, but as soon as
his fingers touched the familiar warm wood, he felt a massive weight
drop on top of him and knock all the air from his lungs.

"I got him, Draco! I have him!" Crabbe shouted proudly.

"Get off me, you fat bastard!" Harry was squirming and trying to aim his
wand at the fatass tackling him, but a heavy dragonhide boot stepped
on his hand and he let go with a yelp.

"Not so tough now, are you, Po er?" Draco grabbed him by the hair,
pulling Harry's head to look him in the eye.

"Go fuck yourself, ferret-boy."

"Tsk tsk, ever so ill-mannered, Po er. It's about me someone taught
you how to respect your be ers." Draco picked Harry's wand up, eyed it
with distaste, and pocketed it. "Let him up, boys."

"I'll show this li le shite," growled Warrington, s ll clutching his nose.

"Hold him s ll, Crabbe, Goyle!"

"Don't leave any visible marks," Malfoy warned, suddenly concerned.

"Shut up, Draco."

Warrington approached Harry, then reared his fist back and punched
him into the stomach. Harry doubled over, wheezing. He could hear
laughter all around him. Two more hits followed, before Warrington was
finally sa sfied. Malfoy watched disapprovingly, but didn't dare say
anything to the larger boy.

"That's nothing compared to what's wai ng in store for you, Po er,"

Warrington warned him ominously. "Take him to the Headmistress,
Draco."

"Glurb," Harry added eloquently.

And so, Harry was dragged halfway across the school to Umbridge's
office. Draco seemed to pick a roundabout way in order to avoid the
other students. When they arrived, Harry was mostly recovered, but he
s ll made Crabbe and Goyle prac cally carry him inside. No reason to
make things easier for the two pillocks.

"Well, well, Draco! What do we have here?" Umbridge's sickly-sweet

voice grated on Harry's ears.

"We apprehended Po er on the second-floor corridor, Madam. He

bumped into me, and when Graham suggested he apologize, Po er
immediately cast a Stunning spell on him. He also broke Cassius's nose. I
thought this was beyond my authority, so we brought him to you at
once."
"Indeed, Draco? Po er broke his nose? You've done well to bring him
here, of course. That'll be fi y points to Slytherin." Umbridge sounded
almost ecsta c at the opportunity of punishing Harry.

"That's not what happened," Harry said redly, not really expec ng
anyone to listen. "Malfoy and his gang of bullies ambushed me–"

"You will stay quiet unless spoken to, Mr. Po er," Umbridge interrupted.
"I am a very busy witch and I do not have the me for your lies. Let's
see: an unprovoked assault against another student, cas ng spells in the
hallways..."

"He didn't obey our commands, either," Draco supplied helpfully.

"Defying authorized Squad members... Yes, I believe that will be two

hundred points from Gryffindor" – Umbridge's face broke out into a
rather disturbing smile – "and a deten on with Mr. Filch tonight at 10.
I'll hold on to your wand un l then, Mr. Po er, so make sure to be there
on me."

"Just one deten on?" Draco sounded disappointed. "But he–"

"Oh, don't worry, Draco. It is going to be a very special deten on. The
Minister gave me full authority regarding disciplinary measures."

"What does that... Oh." Draco's grin mirrored Umbridge's now, and Harry
felt rather uneasy. "In that case – have fun, Po er."

Harry approached the door to Filch's office with dread. He felt

defenseless without his wand, and cursed his pride which had prevented
him from going to McGonagall like Hermione suggested.

"It's just one deten on," he murmured to himself, before knocking on

the door. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Opening the door, he was greeted by an unexpected sight. Umbridge
was there, speaking with Filch. The sour man seemed unusually
animated and enthusias c, and he greeted Harry almost cordially. Not a
good sign.

"Good evening, Madam Umbridge, Mr. Filch." Might as well be polite for
now.

"Evening, Po er. You're just in me. Get over here so we can begin," the
man ordered gruffly.

Harry entered the small room, wrinkling his nose at the smell of fried
fish. He had the sudden urge to ask Filch whether he liked fish s cks. The
door behind him closed with a wave of Umbridge's wand, and he looked
around nervously.

"Take your robes off, Po er." Harry hesitated, not sure what was going
on. Meanwhile, Filch rummaged in one of his dingy cupboards and
emerged with a whip. A whip!

"Oh no, I don't think so," Harry backed up un l he hit the door. "There's
no fucking way you're allowed to do that."

"Mr. Filch is authorized by myself to give you ten lashes for a acking
your be ers, Mr. Po er," Umbridge stated, looking at Harry almost
hungrily. "Perhaps I should add one more for foul language."

"Fuck that noise! I'm leaving." Harry turned around and a empted to
open the door. His hand had almost reached the knob, when suddenly
his body went rigid and he couldn't move a muscle anymore.

"For too long you've run amok in this school with no consequences, Mr.
Po er," Umbridge spoke to his back. "Well, we're about to change that.
You must learn that you are not exempt from the rules – and that if you
break them, you will be punished just like everyone else."
Harry felt himself being half-carried, half-dragged deeper into the room,
Filch grun ng with effort. The man rested Harry's statue-like body
against the wall, and shackled his wrists. The manacles locked with a
loud click, looking well-oiled as usual, and Filch seemed inordinately
happy to finally have a chance to use them.

"You won't get away with this," Harry spoke as soon as Umbridge
cancelled her spell. "I'll tell McGonagall. I'll contact the press. I'll call the
Aurors!"

"Silly boy." Not only Umbridge didn't seem fearful in the least, it
appeared Harry's defiance pleased her. "According to the old Hogwarts
Charter, which no one bothered to change for centuries, this falls well
within the authority of the Headmistress. Besides, it's not like anyone
would believe a nasty li le liar like yourself, Mr. Po er."

Filch grunted in agreement. He was turning the winch which raised

Harry's arms up un l he was almost hanging by his wrists, forced to
stand on ptoes. "These chains were given to me by my predecessor,
and to him by his. Hogwarts wasn't always this nancy school, no sir. A
hundred years back, they knew how to punish foul-mouthed
misbehavers like yourself."

Another wave of Umbridge's wand, and Harry's robes and shirt

disappeared from his body and appeared on a chair nearby... Neatly
folded. That woman knew the weirdest spells.

"Eleven lashes, Mr. Filch. You may begin." Umbridge spoke in an

undertone, her voice nged with an cipa on.

Harry grit his teeth, tensed his muscles, and closed his eyes, not being
able to look at Umbridge's delighted smile anymore. He swore not to
scream, and yet, when the first strike hit his body, he cried out. The pain
came suddenly, as if a streak of fire burned across his back, and it didn't
fade, either. As soon as Harry had himself under control, the whip
landed on his back again, an even stronger blow this me. He opened
his eyes inadvertently and recoiled when he saw Umbridge standing
right next to him, peering into his face intently.

"Are you sorry, Mr. Po er?" she whispered. "Are you going to stop telling
lies now?"

"You seek to break me," Harry choked out. "But the will of a templar is
stronger!"

Umbridge stared at him in confusion, then sighed. "Go on, Mr. Filch. The
boy s ll hasn't learned his lesson, it seems."

The pain was becoming unbearable, but there was no fucking way Harry
was going to give up and beg for forgiveness. He retreated deep into
himself, trying to ignore the agony, pretending that it was someone else
ge ng whipped in Filch's office. Maybe if he knew actual Occlumency, he
could deal with it.

Well, there was this one thing he could try...

Harry visualized a flame – a single bright point in an all-encompassing

blackness, burning steadily and silently. He imagined taking all his pain,
all his fear, balling it up, and feeding it to the fire, un l there was
nothing le but the void.

He opened his eyes. Umbridge was staring at him with a surprised look
on her face. He didn't understand why, un l he realized he was s ll
standing on his ptoes even though Filch had already slackened the
chains.

"Have you learned your lesson, Mr. Po er?"

"I have, Madam Umbridge," Harry found himself answering calmly.

"Very well, then," Umbridge looked at him suspiciously. "Here's your

wand back. You may go."
Harry grabbed his wand and clothes absent-mindedly and started
walking to the Gryffindor tower without a backwards glance. He was in
such a daze that he was surprised to see the common room what felt
like seconds later.

Hermione was wai ng for him by the fire, standing up and rushing to the
door as soon as he opened them. She took in his shirtless appearance
and the blank look on his face and frowned.

"Harry, what happened?... Oh my god! You're bleeding!"

Harry became aware of the hot, s cky liquid running down his back.
There was no pain, though.

"Do you s ll have any Murtlap Essence, Hermione?" He knew she had
used some to help Ron a er his deten on.

"I do, I even have something be er.. But, oh, Harry, are you sure you
shouldn't go to the Hospital wing instead?" Hermione was wringing her
hands and seemed on the verge of tears.

"No, I'm fine. It doesn't hurt much."

Hermione didn't seemed to believe him, but that was the truth. Was it
just shock, or did the Flame and the Void actually work? Not only Harry
didn't feel pain, he didn't seem to feel anything at all. It was an odd
state of mind, one that he wasn't used to at all.

"I'll be right back!" Hermione shouted and bolted up the stairs to her
dorm. A minute later she emerged again, carrying a small bo le of
murky brown liquid.

"Essence of Di any," she explained breathlessly. "You should lie down."

Harry lied down on the sofa, Hermione si ng down next to him. He felt
something cool touch his back, followed by an irrita ng itch. He stayed
mo onless, however, not sure how much me the medicine needed to
work.

"It-it seems to be working, Harry," Hermione said, choking back sobs.

"Oh, I'm so glad. I wasn't sure it would w-work, I brewed it myself a er
Professor Sprout gave me some of the herb, b-but that was the first me
I did it, and... and..."

Harry got up carefully and saw that Hermione was whimpering and
wiping her eyes furiously. He felt bewildered, and in his current
condi on, it took him some me to make the connec on and
understand that Hermione was weeping because of him.

"Hermione... it's alright. I'm alright."

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione flung her arms around him, buried her head in
his chest, and started full-on bawling. Harry was almost amused at first,
but then realized how it must have looked from her perspec ve, and
started whispering assurances and comfor ng the distraught girl to the
best of his ability. Holding Hermione in his arms wasn't so bad, Harry
thought. He just wished it happened under different circumstances.

"What happened, Harry?" Hermione asked eventually, sniffling and

wiping her eyes with the sleeve of he robes. "Did... did Filch did this to
you?"

"Yep," Harry said drily. "Umbridge's orders. She watched."

"That horrid woman... No, that bitch! I can't believe it! Even a er all I've
seen, this ass-backwards community manages to surprise me. If I ever
end up in a posi on of power in the Ministry, I'm going to turn this
world on it head!"

"Whoa! That's the spirit, Hermione."

Hermione was now pacing in front of the sofa, waving her arms around
fervently. "We can't let her get away with this! I don't know what we can
do through the official channels, but I'm going to research all the
relevant laws and..."

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry interrupted her before he even realized

what he was saying. "I'm working on it."

"You are?"

"Yes," Harry said confidently. The kid gloves were coming off. If Umbridge
wanted to play rough, he would show her rough. Her, and anyone else
who would challenge him. "I'll need your help, though. Are you up for
it?"

"Anything," Hermione said resolutely.

"I need you to brew some Polyjuice."

12. Tea with Umbridge

Harry set out on a shopping trip the next Saturday. He dressed in Muggle
clothes, grabbed his invisibility cloak and all the money he could find,
and informed Hermione that he would be gone for a few hours,
deflec ng her a empts to wheedle out his des na on.

Sneaking out of Hogwarts was as simple as walking through the front

gates when you had a magical garment that turned you invisible. The
hard part came a erwards. Having never officially learned to Apparate,
Harry wasn't sure he would be successful, but the fact that he had
somehow accomplished it back in primary school when trying to escape
a gang of bullies gave him hope. The only other op on he knew of was
the Knight Bus, but that would leave a trail, which was unacceptable.

Walking into a secluded forest glade near Hogsmeade, Harry took off his
cloak, stuffed it into his pocket, and tried to focus on his des na on,
just like the book he had picked up in the Restricted Sec on earlier that
week told him. He chose the public loo he had used back when he was
at the Underground sta on with Mr. Weasley as his target, thinking that
it should be safe enough.

Spinning on the spot, Harry imagined instantly traveling to his

des na on, then promptly slipped and fell down face-first on the wet
ground.

"Man, I'm glad no one saw that," Harry murmured, cleaning himself off
with a spell and looking around suspiciously. Seeing no one around, he
went back to prac cing.

Fi een minutes passed, then half an hour. Harry was becoming

despondent at this point. He got be er at twirling in place and not
falling down, sure, but he knew that mo on was only supposed to help
him focus. The actual act of Appari on was performed with his mind,
and his magic.
His feelings of defeat soon turned into anger when he thought how
Umbridge would go unpunished. Harry started pacing the glade, flailing
his arms, and ran ng exasperatedly.

"Why the hell can't I do it? There's nothing to it. Sixth years learn it in a
few weeks. Those Weasley clowns know how to do it. Snape can do it,
and I bet he would make fun of me for not being able to. Umbridge...
even she can probably Apparate. Fuck, now I feel really bad."

Harry groaned, pu ng his face in his hands, then started punching a

nearby tree in frustra on. "Just. Fucking. Get. Me. There!"

There was a loud crack, and Harry disappeared from the forest clearing
without a trace.

"Holy crap," Harry exclaimed at the sudden change of his surroundings.

There were people all around him; most were standing pa ently, doing
their best to ignore their neighbors, but the ones closest to Harry were
staring at him openly.

"Er... is this England?" he asked curiously. No one answered, but at least

it became easier to breathe since everyone started edging as far away
from Harry as possible.

"Fair enough." He started pushing through the crowd, quickly realizing

that he ended up Appara ng into the middle of a crowded Underground
pla orm by accident. S ll, any unease was quickly wiped away by joy
when Harry realized he could add yet another skill to his character
sheet. Having teleported once and memorized the sensa on, he was
confident he could do it again.

From there, Harry went on about acquiring everything on his li le

shopping list. He might have wandered a li le, taking longer than he
strictly had to, but the feeling of freedom was too enjoyable.

Harry had doubted whether he would be able to buy everything he

required in one trip at first, but he needn't have worried. Acetone and
Epsom salts didn't present any challenges. The main ingredient – castor
beans – took him a li le longer to find, but he managed in the end.

And, a er five years worth of Po ons with Snape, Harry was moderately
confident he would be able to extract ricin without killing himself.

Having dis lled ricin without too much trouble, Harry now carried the
poison everywhere in a small, unbreakable glass vial. He was observing
Umbridge and trying to grasp her daily rou ne in order to find the best
moment to spike her drink or food. The hours he spent surrep ously
watching the Ministry lickspi le turned out to be a waste, however; the
ideal opportunity presented itself when Umbridge invited Harry to her
office for 'a chat'.

"Tea, Mr. Po er?"

"Uh... what?"

"Would you like some tea, Mr. Po er?" Umbridge repeated pleasantly. "I
have a teapot of the most pleasant Darjeeling right here, and it would
be such a waste..."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. Could it be that easy?

"T-tea would be fine, Madam Umbridge," he stammered nervously. Was

he really going to do this?

Umbridge made a show of filling two rather ugly pink teacups and
adding a generous amount of sugar to each. She then seemed to
hesitate for a moment, looking at the cups intently, before offering one
of them to Harry.

"You don't have to be so nervous, Mr. Po er. As a Ministry official in

charge of this ins tu on, I'd never punish anyone unjustly. As long as
you obey the rules and stop spreading lies, you have nothing to fear
from me."
Not trus ng himself to speak, Harry just nodded. Umbridge was
watching him like a predator.

"Drink up, Mr. Po er. The tea is really good." The woman took a long sip
from her own cup, sighed theatrically, and smacked her lips. Harry found
the sight quite disconcer ng.

He raised his own cup, but stopped at the last moment, no cing that
the pudgy witch was looking at him with a predatory gleam in her beady
eyes. She was very insistent that he take a drink. Could she have?...

"Oh yes," Harry agreed quickly a er pretending to take a small sip.

"Delicious. Thank you, Headmistress."

Umbridge preened at the tle, finally lowering her gaze. Harry knew the
teachers refused to call her that despite her officially assuming the
posi on. He used this moment to set the cup down on his lap and reach
into his pocket with the other hand. The vial was there, and he would
probably be able to uncork it with one hand.

"I've called you here today, Mr. Po er, to discuss your future. You have
made some very foolish choices, young man – yet you are hardly the
only one to blame, misguided as you are. The previous Headmaster
must have filled your head with all sorts of nonsense! This is your
chance, Mr. Po er, to do the right thing, to do your duty as a law-abiding
ci zen. Tell me" – Umbridge leaned forward, giving Harry and en rely
unwelcome view of her cleavage – "where is Dumbledore hiding?"

"I- I don't know," Harry replied, looking away and mentally applying eye
bleach using his 'Occlumency' techniques.

Umbridge sagged in her chair, prac cally radia ng disappointment. Her

eyes centered on the cup he was s ll holding in his le hand.

"Drink up, Mr. Po er, then think long and hard. Is there really nothing
you want to tell me?"
Harry rolled his eyes. Real subtle there, Umbridge. He was now certain
she was trying to drug him; a truth po on of some sort, most likely. It
was a bit ironic considering he was about to do the same to her.

Harry leaned back in his admi edly comfortable chair and pretended to
be deep in thought, watching Umbridge out of the corner of his eye. He
took the cork out of the vial in his pocket and took it out, hiding it in his
fist. Harry then raised the cup with his le hand, pretending to enjoy the
aroma. His hands were shaking and sweaty, and he was sure Umbridge
would sense something was up, but the woman had finally backed off.
She was reading some parchment on her table, and only shoo ng Harry
and occasional glance.

Harry held his breath, and upended the vial over his own cup. Greyish
powder, not quite as clean-looking as in the TV show he had seen, fell
out and floated on the top of his drink, dissolving slowly. Harry thrust
the vial back into the pocket and scrambled to put the cork back in. He
then lowered the cup again and looked at Umbridge, his heart
hammering in his chest like crazy.

"Are you ready to talk, Mr. Po er?" Umbridge asked sweetly, suddenly
turning her gaze back on him. Harry nearly jumped out of his seat.

"Oh, uh... not yet, Madam Umbridge."

"You're not drinking your tea!" Umbridge accused him, poin ng a pudgy
finger at his cup. Her previous pleasant a tude disappeared without a
trace.

"Well, it's gone cold..."

"That just won't do, Mr. Po er. Let me fix you a new cup." Umbridge
made to stand up.

Harry waved his right hand fran cally. "There's no need! Here, I'll just
heat it up using my wand. We learned the spell in Charms recently."
Harry got his wand out and murmured the spell – except it was a
different one than he had claimed. A first-year Transfigura on spell, one
that he was quite familiar with and could perform blindfolded, if he had
to.

The Switching Spell.

The tea in his and Umbridge's cups was switched with a so slosh. Harry
looked at the liquid dubiously, then took three large gulps under the
watchful eyes of the Headmistress. He'd rather get punched by
Warrington again than drink anything Umbridge's lips had touched, but
sacrifices had to be made.

"Excellent!" crowed the tubby woman. "Now, tell me, boy. Where is
Dumbledore?"

"Dumbledore is in Hawaii," Harry spoke in a monotone. "He told me he

would relax on the beach and drink pina coladas un l things blew over
in Britain."

"Hmm. Odd." Umbridge scribbled something on the parchment in front

of her. "And Black? Where is Sirius Black?"

"Avery is harbouring him at his family manour," Harry explained a er a

short pause. He wanted to name Lucius, but there was no way anyone
from the Ministry would believe that about their favorite money bag.
Avery was the ass-kissing Death Eater he remembered from Voldemort's
rebirthday party last year; with luck, the Ministry would find something
incrimina ng at his house.

"Aha! But... Avery, the head of a respected pureblood family? Who told
you this, boy?"

"Si-Severus Snape. He and Avery are friends." Harry was able to stop
himself at the last moment. He didn't think admi ng to being in contact
with a wanted criminal would lead anywhere good.
Umbridge got a though ul expression on her fat face, taking a few gulps
of tea from her cup absent-mindedly. Harry broke into a grin despite
himself. Mission accomplished! Time to bail out.

"Excuse me, Madam Umbridge." Harry spoke as evenly as he could, but

his voice was s ll wavering with excitement. "I have to go to the loo."

"Can't it wait, boy? I s ll have so much to ask–"

"If I don't go right now, I am going to piss myself," Harry said with a blank
face.

Umbridge blanched. She seemed rather concerned about her fine

upholstery. "Oh, Merlin! Go, then. Get out!"

Harry stopped at the doorway and turned back, not being able to resist
delivering the final blow.

"Madam Umbridge, why do you have so many cat ornaments?"

"They provide me company in my otherwise sad and lonely existence,"

Umbridge blurted out, before clasping her hands over her mouth and
staring at Harry, then at her tea cup in shock.

Harry closed the door behind him and laughed all the way to the
Gryffindor Tower.

The next morning, Umbridge did not come down for breakfast. Harry
watched the High Table like a hawk; the other professors didn't seem
par cularly concerned. A er enjoying her meal, McGonagall finally
announced that Umbridge had come down with a rather bad stomach
bug, so Defense classes would be cancelled for the day. Her words were
followed by cheers from most of the students, the Professor herself
smiling slightly at the reac on.
Harry was overtaken by emo on. Shame, regret, fear, as well as triumph
and malevolent glee warred inside him. On one hand, he wanted to
make Umbridge suffer, no ques on about that. On the other, his
stomach churned at the idea of her dying because of his ac ons – and
death was a very real possibility, seeing how Pomfrey didn't know that
Umbridge had been poisoned. She was no murdering Death Eater, just a
stupid bully in a posi on of power.

Pushing his plate away, Harry got up and bolted out of the Great Hall,
ignoring Hermione's and Ron's alarmed voices. He ran straight for the
Gryffindor Tower, and raced up the stairs to his dorm in a flash. Only
when he had his invisibility cloak in his hands did he stop and consider
the situa on. It wouldn't do to get caught a er all he'd done.

Forcing himself to calm down, Harry pocketed the cloak and trekked back
to the Great Hall. He had to be seen ac ng normal, he had to a end
classes, and, above all, he had to plan this out perfectly.

The door to the hospital wing was thankfully le ajar, so all Harry had to
do was ptoe inside. Even that measure of cau on was probably
unnecessary thanks to the newly-learned Silencing Charm he had cast on
his sneakers, but Harry was too nervous – and nervous was synonymous
with 'wary' and 'sneaky' in his book.

Umbridge was there, sure enough. The vile woman was pale and sweaty,
and appeared to be half-asleep. Making sure they were alone, Harry
approached and leaned over her. He then took a deep breath in
prepara on of what he was about to do.

Harry's right arm shot out from under the cloak, grabbing Umbridge's
chin (the uppermost one, that is) and forcing her mouth to open. His le
one immediately forced a bezoar down her gaping maw, as he grimaced
in disgust and mentally berated himself for not bringing any gloves.
While he didn't expect the bezoar to be very effec ve now that an en re
day had passed, he guessed there was more to its magic than simply
absorbing poisons in the stomach. Who knew, maybe it would be the
very thing to save Umbridge from a slow and painful demise.

The first part of his mission accomplished, Harry hid under his cloak
again and carefully checked his surroundings. Seeing no one around, he
reached into his pocket and took out a note, which he placed on the
bedside table nearby. The message, composed en rely of clippings from
The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler, informed whoever would read it
about what happened to Umbridge, and threatened the same fate to
any other lackey the Ministry would send to Hogwarts. Harry rather
hoped it wouldn't be traced back to him, or he expected he would get to
see the inside of an Azkaban cell, Boy-Who-Lived or not.

A muffled noise alerted him to the fact that Umbridge was awake. The
woman swallowed with a loud gulp, then coughed and spoke in a hoarse
voice, her beady eyes dar ng around the room.

"Who... who's there?"

Harry bent down and hissed into her ear:

"I am the one who knocks."

13. A ermath

"Good morning, students. I have an important announcement to make

in regards to our Defense Against the Arts teacher. Madam Umbridge's
condi on worsened yesterday, and she had to be transferred to St.
Mungo's immediately."

Harry listened to McGonagall's announcement with bated breath. He

wasn't the only one paying rapt a en on, but his reasons were more
complicated than those of the other students, who just wanted
Umbridge gone.

"The Healers assured me she would make a full recovery." Several groans
were heard at this, silenced quickly by McGonagall's stern glare.
"However, her... unusual ailment requires prolonged treatment and
hospitaliza on. Furthermore, Madame herself expressed reluctance to
return to Hogwarts. In light of these events, the Ministry has graciously
lent us one of their top Aurors, who is going to teach Defense un l we
can find someone more permanent."

Harry breathed easier amid the resounding cheers. Ron smacked him on
the back, roaring, "she's gone! Umbridge is gone!" Even McGonagall
cracked a thin-lipped smile at the frank jubila on. She appeared to be
speaking again, but nothing could be heard over the excited hubbub, so
the Professor threw her hands in the air and gave up, going back to
enjoy a cup of tea before the classes started.

Harry's eyes scanned the sea of laughing and grinning students, un l

they landed on a certain blonde Ravenclaw. Luna caught his eye and
gave Harry a cheerful wave. Harry waved back weakly, feeling slightly
guilty all of the sudden, and hoping he didn't look too suspicious.

"Why is Loony waving at us?" Ron mumbled through a mouthful of

waffles.

"Swallow before you speak, Ronald. Honestly," Hermione admonished.

Harry made up an excuse on the spot. "Oh, er... I was helping her with
the Shield Charm. Luna had trouble with it during the DA, remember?
Now that Umbridge is gone, I can teach her without sneaking around."

Hermione gave him a curious glance, but let it slide. The conversa on
a er that turned to safer topics, like a poten al reinstatement of the
DA, and Harry studiously avoided looking at his co-conspirator to
prevent further suspicions from his friends.

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry wheeled around and stared. He didn't know the brightly smiling
girl who approached him as he was leaving the last class of the day, but
there was something oddly familiar about her. She was wearing
Hogwarts robes with no house e, and she stumbled slightly as she
walked up to him.

"Tonks?" he asked on a hunch.

"Right in one, kid." Her hair turned pink momentarily, then se led on its
previous color, an inconspicuous chestnut brown.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded incredulously, stepping

away from the throng of students shuffling out of the classroom.

"What if I told you I missed you so much, I transformed and sneaked

into Hogwarts just to see you?" Tonks ba ed her eyelashes at him.

"I'd invite you for coffee and offer to give you a massage," replied Harry
without missing a beat.

Tonks laughed lightly. It appeared her voice changed together with her
appearance. Fascina ng.

"That does sound temp ng, but I'm here on official Auror business. I
don't know what those tossers at the Ministry are thinking, but they
wanted me to blend in and see what I could find out. They're grasping at
straws if you ask me, but what can I do?"

"What is it you are inves ga ng, Tonks?"

"Oh, right. Keep this under wraps for now, but" – Tonks scooted closer
and whispered the next part – "Umbridge has been poisoned, and by
some rare Muggle substance no less. Can you believe that?"

Harry did his best to feign shock, although he didn't think he did very
well.

"So, I have to ask, do you know anyone who could have done this,
Harry?" She seemed almost apologe c.

"Not a clue," Harry replied, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

Tonks shrugged. "Alright, good enough for me. Could you name anyone
who hated Umbridge enough to possibly act in revenge?"

Harry chuckled nervously. "Only the most of the student body".

"That bad, huh? Can't blame you, I guess you guys don't like Ministry
propaganda as much as the next person."

"I suppose there's that," Harry agreed dubiously. "But it's more the fact
that she gives deten on to anyone who calls her out on her bullshit,
and she makes them write lines using a blood quill. Also, the other
day–"

"Blimey! Slow down, Harry. Blood quill, as in a quill which uses your own
blood to write?"

"That would be the defini on, Tonks."

The shape-shi ing Auror looked at him grimly. "That's a restricted item,
and a Dark one no less. Even if she has permission to keep one, using it
as punishment is..."
"Completely in accordance with the Hogwarts Charter?"

"No idea, but Ministry laws should take precedence. Why bring it up?
Did you have to do it as well?" The young witch looked at him with
concern.

"Er... well, no. Ron had to, though, and I know a few other people who
did as well." Harry decided to keep his 'special' deten on a secret for
now. Not only bringing it up would give him a mo ve, if press caught
wind of it, there would be massive scandal, and he preferred to stay
under the radar for now.

"Ron, huh? I'll get to the bo om of this," Tonks promised. "Thanks,

Harry, and see you later!"

"Merlin, what I wouldn't do to get a Metamorphmagus girlfriend," Ron

blurted out at dinner. Tonks had thoroughly ques oned him about his
deten on earlier, but Ron apparently walked away from that mee ng
with other things on his mind.

"I know that feel, bro." Harry had far-away look in his eyes. "Imagine the
possibili es..."

Hermione huffed. "You shouldn't objec fy Tonks like that. It's very
disrespec ul."

"You're just jealous we're not objec fying you, 'Mione," Ron responded
dismissively.

Uh oh. Harry scampered away from the table before he could get caught
in spellfire, figuring he didn't like shepherd's pie all that much, anyway.
Sounds of scuffle broke out behind him, followed by Ron's indignant
cries. Where first-year Hermione ran away and cried, fi h-year one had a
tendency to get violent. He wasn't sure which reac on he preferred, but
he couldn't deny Ron probably deserved whatever she did to him this
me.
Deciding to head back to the common room, Harry le the Great Hall
and started climbing up the stairs. He turned around when he heard so
steps trailing him, and saw Luna trying to catch up.

"Leaving so soon, Harry? I tried to catch your eye, but you wouldn't look
at me at all." Luna pouted. "You're not avoiding me, are you?"

"No, no, I was just preoccupied. Sorry, Luna."

She beamed at him. "That's okay, then. So, it looks like you managed to
banish the evil toad-witch?"

"Merlin, Luna!" Harry looked around warily, but there were no people or
portraits around. "Not in here. Let's find a secluded classroom
somewhere, perhaps in that wing where we met last week."

"If you insist." The fourth-year witch fell into step with him and started
skipping along happily.

Harry would have liked to say they walked in companionable silence, but
the truth was, he was worried about Luna's reac on when she learned
what means he had used to accomplish the deed. He considered lying to
her, but for some reason he felt the enigma c girl would be able to see
through it. By the me they found a nice remote room that seemed to
be used for storage, he didn't have any be er ideas than telling her the
truth and hoping for the best.

"Was it you who vanquished Umbridge, Harry?" the girl asked as soon as
Harry closed the door behind them.

He nodded wordlessly, causing Luna to pout.

"Oh, poo. Now all the supplies for my plan will go to a waste. Except the
bu er, of course – I can just give it back to the house elves."

"Supplies? What else did you prepare?" Harry was curious despite
himself. Discussing Luna's plan provided a nice distrac on from his
worries, at least.

"Why, ten yards of hemp rope, a vial of Shrinking Solu on, and a
smoking pipe. Oh, and I'll have to tell Hagrid I won't need to borrow Mr.
Nibbles anymore. That's his goat, of course."

"Of course," said Harry weakly. "Okay, I'll bite: what were you trying to
do with all that?"

"A magician does not reveal her secrets, Harry. But, seeing how you won
our li le bet, that doesn't apply to you. Spill." Luna looked at him with
expectant eyes.

"Ah." Harry deflated a li le now that it was his turn to share. "Me, well...
I poisoned her, Luna."

Luna's large silvery eyes were focused on Harry, her tranquil expression
revealing nothing. Emboldened by the lack of immediate condemna on,
Harry con nued, feeling ins nc vely that he could trust the younger
Ravenclaw. He told her everything, even about the lashes he had
received from Filch, at which point Luna's face clouded in the first open
display of emo on since he started talking.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried out, giving him a hug. "Are you okay now?"

"I'm fine," Harry murmured, surprised at the sudden display of affec on.

Luna seemed to have felt the same awkwardness, for she withdrew
quickly and ducked her head to hide her blushing face.

"Well, I am glad that you gave her the bezoar, Harry," said Luna in an
uncharacteris cally flustered voice. "I'm too young to be a murder
accomplice, you know."

"You don't think I'm a – a monster, do you?"

"No!" Luna denied vehemently, raising her head and looking straight
into his eyes. "You were driven into a corner and did your best. You
might want to keep it a secret from Hermione, though. She might not
understand."

"I wouldn't be so sure," stated Harry, thinking back to Hermione's

expression when she saw his lacerated back. "But yeah, the fewer
people know about this, the be er."

The silence that descended was a comfortable one this me, with Harry
feeling a cathar c relief at being accepted by Luna, and the
aforemen oned witch smiling at him serenely, thinking about Merlin-
knew-what. It was only broken when she bounced on her feet and
exclaimed:

"I almost forgot! You're going to have to wait a bit for me to deliver your
prize, Harry. You've won so quickly, I haven't really had me to prepare."

"Prepare?" Harry was bemused. "Sure, take your me, Luna."

Harry didn't realize just what Luna's words implied un l a few days later.
He was stuffing himself full of delicious steak and potatoes in a manner
that would have made Ron proud, not really paying a en on to the
conversa ons around him, when he heard an unusual silence descend
upon the Great Hall. Raising his head, Harry followed Ron and
Hermione's incredulous stares to the entrance, and felt his jaw drop
when he saw what they were looking at.

It was Luna, except she looked nothing like the Luna he knew. Gone were
the robes and the radish earrings – she was wearing an honest-to-god
sailor-style school uniform which consisted of a white shirt with a red
e, a rather skimpy black skirt, and thigh-high socks. Her blonde hair,
ed in twin tails with black ribbons, completed the picture.

"Is she coming over here?" breathed Ron. "I hope she comes over here."
As if obeying Ron's wish, Luna located Harry and started walking along
the Gryffindor table towards where he was seated. Her stride through
the Great Hall was accompanied by excited whispers and even a few
catcalls. Luna blushed and ducked her head slightly, but otherwise made
it look like it was the most natural thing to appear at dinner wearing
cosplay. Harry was impressed with her composure, and even more
impressed with the grade A ze ai ryouiki.

"Hey, Luna." Harry greeted her with a giant grin on his face. He couldn't
resist admiring the way the shirt hugged her lithe figure, making Luna
squirm slightly under his intense gaze.

"D-Do I look weird, Onii-chan? You're staring at me a lot..." She tugged

her skirt downwards and crossed her hands over her modest chest, the
very image of bashfulness.

"Hehehe..." The combina on of Luna's words and mo ons seemed to

deliver a cri cal hit straight to Harry's brain. It took him a bit to come to
his senses again, and he had to check and make sure he wasn't drooling.
"No, Luna, you look fine. Come sit with your big brother."

Luna bounced on the balls of her feet happily and plopped down
between Harry and Hermione. Ignoring the curious looks from their
housemates, she inspected Harry's plate and sighed.

"Mou, Onii-chan. You have to make sure to eat your veggies!" She
speared a broccoli with a fork and extended it towards Harry. "Say
'aah'."

"Aah," Harry complied happily.

"Harry James Po er!" Hermione interrupted the moment, sounding

scandalized. "Just what are you making Luna do?"

"It's just roleplay, Hermione," he explained nonchalantly.

"Roleplay?" Hermione pondered the word for a moment, then blushed.
"Are you two... um, never mind. Luna, are you really okay with this?"

"Yes, Hermione. I lost a bet, so it's only fair I give Harry what he wants."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Harry, I can't believe you are taking

advantage of Luna this way!"

"Umm..."

"Save your excuses, you pervert!" Hermione got up and walked off in a

huff.

Harry looked at her retrea ng figure, then at Luna, who was cu ng up

the steak for him. "You know what? I ain't even mad. This is totally
worth it."

"You have some mashed potatoes stuck on your cheek, Onii-chan. Here,
let me get them for you."

"Hehehe."

Things started to slow down for Harry a er that. He allowed himself to

relax and just enjoyed Luna's ministra ons during what quickly became
the happiest week of his life. She delivered above and beyond what
their bet required, and Harry mentally praised the gods of DFC every
me he saw her in a seifuku. Sure, Cho Chang might have called them
weaboos more than once, but she clearly was just sore about
Hermione's spell disfiguring her friend's face.

Luna received a lot of a en on from the rest of the school, too, much of
it unwanted. Harry put his foot down a er overhearing some crude
proposi ons and warned the most lecherous teens to stay away from
his imouto. He wasn't sure whether it was his depic on as a deranged
psychopath in the Daily Prophet, or the skills he displayed in the DA, but
the other blokes did listen, and Luna was migh ly impressed with her
protec ve 'big brother'. Harry was quite pleased himself and couldn't
help but think he had earned major points towards Luna's route.

Hogwarts itself seemed to run as usual despite Dumbledore's con nued

absence. While the Auror the Ministry had sent to teach Defense
Against the Dark Arts was a bit grumpy about having to instruct a bunch
of kids, he was miles be er than Umbridge. As for the witch herself,
Tonks had told Harry off-the-record that she would be ques oned about
her usage of a Dark ar fact as soon as she recovered. It was highly
unlikely that she would be incarcerated considering the current poli cal
climate, but the suspicions alone were enough to prevent her from ever
working with children again. Harry figured that was the best he could
hope for, as long as Fudge was the minister.
14. Prepara ons

The OWLs were drawing closer, and Harry, along with the other fi h-
years at the castle, was becoming progressively moody and tetchy every
day. His reasons were slightly different than those of his yearmates,
however; rather than being apprehensive about the upcoming exams,
he was growing disenchanted and bored. It's not that he didn't have
anything to do (their coursework was more demanding than ever, a er
all), Harry was simply feeling burned out and apathe c, and there were
several good reason for that.

First of all, he couldn't play Quidditch anymore. He didn't even realize

how much fun being a part of a compe ve sports team was un l he
lost his posi on. The Ministry was trying to place their own official at
the helm of the school again, but a er what happened to Umbridge, no
one wanted the posi on. As such, Hogwarts officially had no headmaster
for the me being, which is why McGonagall couldn't remove his ban.
She had actually told Harry she'd cover for him if he wanted to play – a
testament to how much the usually straight-laced Head of Gryffindor
enjoyed Quidditch – but he didn't have the heart to demand his place
back from Ginny, who seemed to be having a blast playing Seeker.

Then there was the fact that his fledgling dreams of becoming an Auror
were sha ered in the face of cold, harsh reality. The Ministry was
inefficient, corrupt, and hopelessly backward, so it was the last place he
wanted to work at when he finished school. Thus, he felt no mo va on
to study, especially when it came to a subject like Po ons, which he had
long since started associa ng with Snape's ugly mug.

Finally, his more fun plans had to be put on the back burner. Hermione
was s ll brewing the Polyjuice, and the Twins ran into some trouble
when researching certain materials they had corresponded about during
summer. It was frustra ng, but he couldn't proceed without them.

All of those reasons contributed to Harry barely paying a en on in

class, and ac ng increasingly ji ery and snappy outside it. It didn't take
long for his friends to no ce that something was wrong.

"Ron, can I have a word with you? It's about Harry."

"What about him?" Ron was slumped moodily in one of the comfy chairs
in front of the fireplace at the Gryffindor common room. He was s ll the
Keeper for their house team, but he wasn't performing up to par during
prac ce, not to speak of the actual matches.

"He has been ac ng really weird lately. Surely you've no ced

something?"

"I s'ppose. He's been a bit grumpy."

"Well, you aren't exactly a ray of sunshine, yourself," Hermione retorted.

"That's not what I meant. He keeps borrowing Creevey's camera and
going a er my cat, trying to make him do something funny. Poor
Crookshanks is terrified of him! Aren't you, you big sweet ki y?"

Crookshanks, who had been snoozing on the rug near the fire, opened
one yellow eye and glared at Hermione, as if angry at her for implying a
manly cat like himself would be afraid of anything.

"That's very interes ng. Please, tell me more."

"Pay a en on, Ron! That's not all. His essays lately don't make any
sense. Here, take a look." She handed a piece of parchment to her
friend. "Harry skipped class yesterday when McGonagall was handing
these back, and I told her I'd get it back to him. I've never seen anything
like this before."

Ron skimmed over the short essay, then frowned. Hermione was right –
the text was wri en en rely in green ink, and looked like codswallop to
the pureblood wizard.
"Be learning the Principle Excep ons to Gamp's Law," Ron read out loud.
"Don't be transfiguring rocks into food. Greatnowiamhungry dot
vellum... What is this rubbish? Has Harry gone round the twist?"

"I hope not," Hermione replied somberly. "But we have to talk to him."

The duo didn't need to look very far – they found Harry in the boys'
dormitories, a somewhat unusual loca on given the me of the day.

"Why do you have your owl here at the dorms, mate?" Ron blurted out
before Hermione could say anything.

"Oh, hey, you guys. I'm just trying to get Hedwig to do the 'O RLY' pose.
She's really stubborn though, aren't you, girl?" Harry raised the camera
and a empted to take off another picture.

Hedwig hooted indignantly when the flash went off; if it was possible for
an owl to have a tortured expression, then the bird was the very image
of suffering. Giving Harry one last glare, she took off and flew out of the
window, hi ng her wizard with her wings on the way out.

Harry lowered the camera, annoyed. "I don't understand why she has to
be such a drama queen. I just wanted to snap a few photos."

"Yeah, about that, mate..."

"You've been ac ng weird lately, Harry, and we're worried about you,"
Hermione cut in. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong?" Harry pondered the ques on for a moment. "Well... I guess

you could say I'm bored."

"Bored?" Hermione seemed offended about Harry's declara on. "If

you're bored, you should study for the OWLs! And stop skipping class!"
"Study, study, study. It's all I've been doing lately!" Harry exclaimed. "I
need some down me, but there's just nothing fun to do at this place. I
tried to get a card tournament going yesterday, but everyone's obsessing
over exams these days. And we s ll have like two months un l then!"

"We could play chess," Ron offered. "I don't feel like I can cram anything
else into my head at this point."

Harry pouted. "Yes, we could, but then you'd just kick my ass."

"There must be something you want to do, Harry." Hermione sounded

worried.

"Well, sure. I want to play a good RPG, or own some noobs in Counter
Strike. My favorite webcomics probably updated a bunch of mes by
now, and I haven't checked my email in ages. Bah! This place should get
with the mes and get hooked up with some fiber op cs."

Ron looked at Harry like he had grown a second head. "Uhh..."

"Honestly, Harry, you know as well as I do that Muggle gadgets fail in

highly magical areas. They even men on it in the first chapter of
Hogwarts: a History."

"Yeah, and it sucks! I could really use a dose of the internet right now.
I'm almost out of SAN points!"

"Why don't you do some research?" Hermione suggested though ully,

trying to nudge her friend into doing something more produc ve than
making funny animal photos. "You know, into why magic fries
electronics."

"Research..." Harry rolled the unfamiliar word around his mouth. "I don't
believe I've done much of that at Hogwarts, have I? It could be fun.
Thanks for the idea, Hermione. To the library!"
"Muggle eckeltricity, huh? Do you think he will figure out how to make it
work around magic?" Ron asked a er Harry le the room.

"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione scoffed. "Everyone knows that's

impossible. But at least he'll be learning something instead of was ng
his me."

Harry really threw himself into research a er that. While most of the
theory he had to read was dry and boring, it was surprisingly exci ng to
think of himself as a scien st (or whatever the magical equivalent was),
and he was also mo vated by the fact that success would mean ge ng
Muggle tech into Hogwarts.

To his pleasant surprise, he found an answer a mere fortnight later. He

was so excited about his discoveries, he had to share them with Ron and
Hermione immediately.

"So, the bookworm finally returns from the library." Ron laughed.
"You've been outnerding even Hermione lately, mate."

"That's not even a word, Ron," the girl snapped irritably.

"It is if I want it to be."

Harry cleared his throat to get Ron and Hermione's a en on before they
could start arguing in earnest. "Ahem. As you well know, I've been
looking into the interac ons between magic and electronics the past few
weeks. A er reading through whatever relevant books I could find, I
came up with a clear and unambiguous conclusion about mixing the two
of them together."

Harry paused for drama c effect. Ron looked amused by his friends
an cs, while Hermione actually seemed to have a condescending look on
her face. He raised his finger before delivering the final line.

"It is impossible."
"I could have told you that, Harry," Hermione declared smugly. "But I
thought doing some independent study would be good for you."

"Hermione, I wasn't finished," he stated calmly. "As I was saying, cas ng

magic on anything electronic will ruin the circuits. Thus, any protec ve
spells or enchantments won't work either, since they are, by defini on,
magic. The only way to get something like an iPod to work at Hogwarts
would be to recreate it en rely using magic."

"I knew all that," Hermione complained petulantly.

Ron rolled his eyes at the witch. "Sounds like what my dad was doing
with all that Muggle stuff."

"Yeah, the flying car was pre y damn impressive," said Harry,
reminiscing about their second year. "But I can't imagine wizards
recrea ng computers using magic any me soon. Nor it's something I
could realis cally do without long years of study – probably in a Muggle
university, too. So, I came up with something else. Instead of trying to
enchant the item itself, we could simply isolate an area from ambient
magic – like a Faraday cage of sorts. An en re room would probably be
the easiest to work in, but there's no reason why smaller containers
couldn't be enchanted this way as well."

Hermione was listening raptly now, impressed with Harry's findings

despite herself. "Do you know what kind of magic you'd need for that?"

Harry's shoulders slumped slightly. "Well, not yet. But I'm fairly certain
that it exists, and that it's a ward of some sort. It's likely to be some
pre y high-level stuff, though – not something we're going to learn in
class any me soon."

"You should write Bill," suggested Ron. "He knows all about wards."

"Good idea, Ron," said Harry apprecia vely. "I think I'll do just that."
Not only Harry ended up wri ng Bill, he actually claimed a small room in
the more remote part of the castle for this par cular experiment.
McGonagall was surprisingly amenable about the idea when he
explained it to her; in fact, the normally strict witch praised Harry for
finally showing some ini a ve about his studies. All-in-all, this li le
project kept Harry busy and gave him something interes ng to do, which
is what ma ered the most.

"Hello, gentlemen," Harry greeted his accomplices in the Room of

Requirement. "How's it going?"

"Heya, Harry. We're almost finished, aren't we, George?"

"Indeed, brother of mine. Just need to pack everything, all neat and dy
like."

"It won't explode on me, will it?" Harry was jus fiably concerned. He had
read that acetone peroxide was notoriously unstable.

"Nah, you'll be alright. We put Dampening Charms all over the bag, so
nothing will happen even if you jump on it. This Muggle powder got
nothing on Erumpent fluid, you know. George nearly lost his fingers
playing with that stuff."

"Erumpent fluid? Couldn't we use that instead?"

"Might work, but it's impossible to get in any quan ty that ma ers. We
nicked a few drops from Mr. Lovegood last summer. That luna c keeps a
whole Erumpent horn on display in his living room." Fred shook his head
ruefully. "Wouldn't listen to our warnings, either. Kept going on about
Grumbling Snorkies or some such."

Harry made a mental note to warn Luna before she returned home. "So,
I just take one of those things out of the bag, and drop it?"
"It would be best not to dawdle, yes. While not quite Erumpent fluid,
it's s ll rather vola le."

"The bombs should explode on impact, but we've added a med

detonator just in case they don't," the other twin quipped in. "Just tap
your wand on it once, and it will blow up in fi een seconds. Quite
ingenious, if you ask me."

"No argument there," agreed Harry, admiring the impromptu lab the
Weasleys had set up. "You've really outdone yourselves, guys."

"Aww, don't make us blush, Harrykins."

"Compared to making fireworks, this is a lot simpler. No need to make

things pre y, just loud and powerful."

"Normally, it would be less fun this way..."

"...But knowing who will be ge ng the delivery, we can't really

complain."

The three boys adopted matching feral grins on their faces. They all had
a bone to pick with that par cular family. Fred broke the silence first.

"And is our favorite bushy-haired bookworm finished with her task as

well?"

Harry nodded seriously. "The plan is a go."

15. Vigilan sm

Harry was floa ng over the Malfoy manor, wrapped in a veritable cocoon
of protec ve and concealing magic. The sprawling, three-story mansion
below was surrounded by rose gardens and immaculately-cut lawns.
Further in the distance, a small lake and green hills covered sparsely
with trees completed the picturesque view.

Harry felt a brief pang of jealousy, which he squashed ruthlessly as he

descended to get a be er aim. He'd have preferred to nuke the place
from the orbit, but accuracy was an issue, and his broom had its limits,
too. He reached into the magically-expanded bag and pulled out one of
the irregularly-shaped plas c explosives. Harry held his breath as he
carefully tapped the ashy lump with his wand and released it to fall
onto the building he was hovering above.

The bomb hit the fine slate roof with barely a sound, then rolled down
and fell into a rose bush underneath, disappearing from view.

"What the hell, Fred, George?" Harry frowned and leaned forward, trying
to see where the charge had fallen. "If this doesn't work, I'll be so pi–"

Boom!

"Ow, fuck, my ears!" Harry screamed, not really hearing his own voice. He
rose higher and inspected the results of the explosion.

The flowerbed was gone, replaced by a respectably-sized hole. The

ground in front of the manor was covered in glass shards from the
sha ered windows. Harry grinned, but he wasn't en rely happy with the
outcome: while the bombs seemed to pack enough of a punch, he didn't
think blowing up Narcissa's favorite roses would hurt the Death Eaters
much.

Harry rose higher for the second a empt, and he also put on a pair of
worn earmuffs he had nicked from one of the greenhouses, cursing his
carelessness for not doing that the first me.
"Bombs away!"

Boom!

The second bomb detonated on contact with the roof, blowing a

substan al hole in it. Harry whooped and cheered, un l he no ced a
commo on at the front entrance of the house.

A disheveled-looking Lucius Malfoy shot out of the door, dragging his

wife behind him and holding his wand alo in his other hand. The
couple stopped and argued heatedly for a few moments, Lucius covering
them with a Shield spell, un l Narcissa twirled on the spot and
disappeared.

Harry breathed easier; he wasn't sure how much the Malfoy matron was
involved in the Death Eater ac vi es, if at all. Lucius, though, he had no
mercy for. Harry reached into his bag, gave the next bomb a quick tap
with his wand, and released it straight at the Death Eater, wishing at
that moment that he was a Chaser like his father.

Lucius, who had been standing in the middle of the entryway and
looking around fran cally, had only a few moments to react. The man
spun on the spot a mere instant before the explosion occurred. Harry
narrowed his eyes and scanned the scene below, trying to see if there
were body parts or blood mixed up with the gravel and dirt that was
sent flying by the blast. Seeing nothing of the sort, he was disappointed,
but felt the niest bit of relief as well.

Figuring he didn't have much me, Harry started lobbing the rest of the
home-cooked bombs at the beat-up building. A minute later, the manor
s ll stood, but its splendor was gone... Along with the most of the third
and second floors.

Harry reached into the stash for the final item – the only magical
explosive he had brought. The 'Weasley special', as they called it, looked
like a regular glass jar filled with a bubbling, fiery liquid which seemed to
seek escape from the container. Harry tore his eyes away from the
hypno c pulse of the mul colored flames and chucked the jar towards
the center of the ruined mansion. He then adjusted his grip and started
flying away, craning his head around to see what would happen.

The Twins had refused to tell him what their inven on would do, but
from their demented grins, he guessed it would be something
spectacular. Indeed, when the fiery beasts exploded into being and
started rampaging through the manor, Harry had to stop and gape at the
sight. At first, he wondered if Fred and George had somehow managed
to pack Fiendfyre into a jar, but then he realized it was just a souped up
version of their Whiz-bangs. Rather than turning the building into a
white-hot inferno, the most damage the flaming creatures did was knock
into walls and tear up the hedges. S ll, he figured it would serve as a
great distrac on, should Lucius return with his masked friends.

Turning his back to the destroyed Malfoy home, Harry started making his
way to a forest he had spied on his journey to the manor. Having never
been anywhere near Malfoy estate, he couldn't Apparate there, and had
to use his broom – not that it was a problem given his hacked Firebolt's
impressive top speed and Harry's prepara ons in regards to protec ve
and camouflaging charms. However, there was no reason not to
Apparate back to Hogwarts – or, more precisely, Hogsmeade, which is
exactly what Harry did as soon as he landed.

Harry appeared in the same clearing he had used to prac ce Appari on

before. He carefully stuffed his broom into the bag of holding, marveling
at the magic behind the item, then took out his invisibility cloak,
covered himself up, and set out towards Hogsmeade at a brisk pace. He
intended to use the secret passage in the cellar of Honeydukes and
sneak into the school with no one the wiser.

Ten minutes later, an invisible Harry Po er tapped the shoulder of his

rather more observable copy, who had been playing chess with Ron. The
other Harry's eyes widened and he cleared his throat.

"Hey, Ronnie- uh, I mean, Ron. I go a run to the dorms real quick."
"But we're almost finished!" whined Ron, only li ing his eyes from the
board for a few moments.

"This is really important. Be right back, yeah?"

Not wai ng for an answer, the fake Harry bolted for the dorms, the real
one following at his heels. They crashed into the fi h-year room, where
the visible one made sure to check if anyone else was inside before
waving his wand over the door and locking it.

"Phew! I only have like five minutes le , so good ming. We can wait
here un l I change back. How did it go, Harrykins? Harry?..."

"It went fine – perfect, even. Malfoy's face when he saw that someone
set him up the bomb was priceless," Harry answered while taking off his
cloak. "Your Weasley special was brilliant, by the way – not very
destruc ve, but it could be a great distrac on whenever I need one."

"Excellent." The Weasley grinned while wearing Harry's face. The sight
was rather unse ling, he thought. "I wish I could've seen it – maybe you
can bring a camera next me. There will be a next me, right?"

"As soon as we're ready," confirmed Harry. "Say, which twin are you,
anyway?"

"Fred, the be er looking one. Can't you tell?" He adjusted his robes and
brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his shoulder. "I drew the short
straw, and I think George cheated; good on him. Neither of us wanted to
drink that goop, you know. Although, now that I think of it, your
Polyjuice tasted be er than I expected. No homo."

"Well, I'm glad it's about to run out. It's really disconcer ng, looking at
myself like that."

"You think I enjoy being turned into a specky git? Urk. I think it's
star ng..."
Harry watched Fred go through the transforma on with a measure of
compassion, recalling his own experience with the po on during his
second year. When they were dressed properly, Fred snuck out under
Harry's cloak, while the la er simply went down to finish the chess
match with Ron.

Lucius Malfoy aside, Harry knew of five more veteran Death Eaters from
Voldemort's 'rebirthday', as he had come to call it. He wanted to hit
them all, but that wasn't to be. The Crabbe family had another child, a
li le girl too young to go to Hogwarts, and Harry wasn't about to risk
hur ng her over her parents' ac ons. The Goyles lived in a rela vely
humble abode in a small village that appeared to be non-magical in
nature, so they got lucky as well; Harry wasn't comfortable with the idea
of chucking bombs so close to flimsy Muggle houses.

None of those things applied to Walden Macnair. The sadis c man was
single and lived in a small cabin deep in an ancient woodland in
Scotland. The place was a bitch to find; Harry circled the dense woods
for hours, using the Four-Point Spell repeatedly and wishing the wizards
had invented the equivalent of a GPS. It was because of that fact, and
not any delibera on on Harry's part, that the bomb hit when Macnair
was back from his job at the Ministry. The man perished in the rubble,
although the one responsible for his demise didn't find that out un l
the Daily Prophet reported on it two days later.

(Incidentally, there already was one such ar cle published following his
raid on Malfoy Manor, complete with rather drama c photos of the
destruc on. Harry had cut that one out and hid it in his trunk, wowing
to frame it and hang it on his wall someday.)

Ministry Employee Found Dead in His Home; Fudge Pledges to Increase

Auror Funding!

Walden Macnair, an upstanding worker at the Commi ee for the Disposal

of Dangerous Creatures, was found dead at his Scotland home yesterday.
All signs indicate that he was murdered by the same terrorist who
a acked the Malfoy Manor a week ago. Ministry officials suspect an
explosive device called a "bomb" (see pg. 13, "Muggle Menace") was
used, which destroyed the vic m's house and savagely mu lated his body.

Meanwhile, public unrest grows as DMLE is failing to make any headway

in apprehending this dangerous criminal. "It is unacceptable that
respected members of our community should cower in fear of a thug using
despicable Muggle devices as his weapons," said Lucius Malfoy, a famous
philanthropist and the first vic m of the a acks.

In response to the increasing concerns, the Fudge administra on made a

press release promising increased funding for the DMLE and faster Auror
responses. "We will spare no expense to find the terrorist who threatens
our society. The tragedy of Macnair's death cannot be allowed to repeat
itself," the Minister told to our reporters on Thursday.

Harry snorted derisively and put the newspaper down. Strengthening

the Auror corps was a good thing to do, even if Fudge did it for the
wrong reasons.

He didn't no ce Hermione watching him like a hawk from a table nearby.

While Harry was a bit shaken up with the results of his last flyby, he had
accepted the poten al consequences of his ac ons before the whole
thing even started. Thus, he decided to con nue with the plan knowing
full well that more deaths could follow. He wished he could share his
burden with his friends, but he doubted they would understand. Unlike
him, war was s ll something distant and abstract for Ron and Hermione.

Avery was the next in line. Nothing came from Harry's insinua ons to
Umbridge about the man harboring Sirius Black, so he decided to take
the ma ers into his own hands. The posh estate the Averys lived in was
destroyed and burned in minutes, just like the rest of them. Harry didn't
know whether the Death Eater and his rela ves lived or not, un l he
found out from the Daily Prophet that the en re family had been away
on holiday and were unharmed.

Harry encountered the first hitch in the plan when he went out to bomb
the No villa, the last target on his list. Much like at the Malfoy manor,
Harry posi oned himself above the opulent two-story building and
released the explosive a er making a well-prac ce mo on with his wand
to ac vate the bomb. The whole process was almost rou ne to him by
now - however, the results were anything but.

Harry heard a muffled boom, barely audible through the fluffy earmuffs
he wore, as the plas c explosive disappeared in a flash before it even
reached the roof; a shimmering, barely-visible shield extending over the
en re house flickered into view as the bomb was incinerated, then
faded away. Harry gaped.

"The fuck was that?"

Harry reached into his bag uncertainly for another charge, but withdrew
it again quickly as he got an idea. He gained some al tude, aimed, and
upended the en re magical container, releasing no less than ten bombs
all at once.

"Eat this, motherfuckers!"

The outcome was spectacular, but not in the sense that Harry wanted it
to be. There were mul ple successive flashes and accompanying muffled
explosions, but when Harry was able to look down without blinding
himself, the resplendent villa s ll stood unscathed, covered with a shield
which was glowing much brighter than it had a er his first a empt.

Harry did the only thing he could do in this situa on: he hightailed out
of there. His unorthodox, brute-force method of a acking Death Eater
homes meant he didn't have to learn ward-breaking, something he knew
took years of study. Conversely, it also meant that when faced with
unknown magical protec ons, he could do nothing but withdraw.
Some Muggleborns actually looked down on purebloods, considering
them too set in their ways and lacking in imagina on. This latest
encounter, however, proved to Harry that wizards could learn, especially
given the proper mo va on – even if it meant coming up with wards
against extreme pressure waves created by Muggle explosives. Perhaps
that magic was already invented by other wizards and the No s simply
had to cast it over their home; it didn't ma er. It was frustra ng, but it
looked like his days of bombing Death Eaters were over.

Harry traveled back to Hogwarts, repea ng the same sequence of flight,

Appari on, and sneaking in under his cloak. This me, though, there was
no spring in his step – Harry trudged up the stairs to the Gryffindor
tower quite wearily, not so much from physical exhaus on as as the
feeling of despondence.

Not finding his doppelganger anywhere in the Common Room, he

carefully climbed the stairs up to his dorm. There, Harry was in for the
second unpleasant surprise of the day.

"I'm sorry, Harry!" Fred, or maybe George, wailed in Harry's voice. Did he
really sound so whiny? "She saw the map!"

"Harry. How could you?" Hermione's voice was quivering with emo on.

"Hermione." Harry's gree ng was composed despite his sinking heart. He

pulled his cloak off and shot a few spells at the door he had closed
behind him for more privacy. "I can explain."

"What is there to explain?" she demanded shakily. Hermione's face was

blotched, a sure sign she had been crying. "You are the terrorist the
Ministry has been searching for, aren't you? I'm not stupid, you know."

"I know," Harry said quietly, and he really did. While Hermione was o en
stubborn and overbearing, she was also undeniably smart, some mes
frighteningly so. Hopefully she would be open-minded enough to see his
point, too. "Just hear me out. Everyone I hit were marked Death Eaters
from Voldemort's ressurec on. They are the most cruel, vicious, evil
bastards you can imagine. Human life means nothing to them; I saw that
first-hand. Cedric was killed, for no other reason than just being in the
way..."

Harry felt himself tearing up and took off his glasses to rub his eyes
furiously. Hermione, too, started crying, while the Weasley twin –
whichever one it was – watched on gravely.

"They need to be arrested and tried properly. You can't make yourself
judge, jury, and e-execu oner," Hermione choked out through sobs. "This
isn't like you, Harry!"

"Maybe video games made me violent." Harry chuckled darkly, but

quieted down quickly when he realized no one else was in the mood for
jokes. "Trust me, I'd happily leave things to the Ministry, go get plastered
on that Firewhiskey the Twins are known to smuggle in, maybe work up
the courage to ask Tonks out, even though I stand no chance... Ahem.
My point is, the fucking government isn't doing a thing, and all the while
those masked gangsters are working to bring their leader back to power.
And a world lead by Voldemort wouldn't be a nice place to live in,
especially for a Muggleborn like yourself."

Hermione shivered and hugged herself. "I understand, I really do. But
this goes against my morals, against everything I believe in." Hermione
looked at Harry earnestly with her teary, bloodshot eyes. "Please stop
this, Harry. And if you can't, at least promise not to drag me into
schemes like this again. The Polyjuice I made, I thought you might use it
for escaping or gathering informa on, not–"

"I promise, Hermione," Harry interrupted gently.

"R-really?" Hermione looked at him hopefully, sniffling and wiping her

eyes.

"Yes. I won't, er, drop bombs on Death Eater homes anymore." Harry felt
slightly guilty since he would have stopped anyway, now that those
fuckers implemented new protec ons against his method of a ack.
"Thank you, Harry!" Hermione gave him a bone-crushing hug. "I won't
tell anyone, I promise. And I'll try to think of something that we can do
to get the public to believe you. Don't worry, Harry, we have Professor
Dumbledore and the Order on our side!"

The distraught girl le quickly a erwards; she seemed to have a lot of

things to consider. Harry closed the door and turned to his silent twin,
who was regarding him though ully.

"Heavy stuff, mate. I don't think Hermione really understood what you
were talking about, though."

"I don't think so, either. Her parents couldn't tell her stories of the last
war like yours did, and she never saw what I've seen. She might
understand eventually. Hopefully it won't be when law and order breaks
down and people start dying le and right."
16. Visions

With just a few weeks le un l the exams, Harry threw himself into his
studies, working on his magic-blocking room as me allowed. Even Ron
had finally given in to the pressure and started reviewing using
Hermione's notes. Speaking of the witch herself, she remained a bit
distant, shoo ng Harry fur ve looks whenever he had to beg off to do
something by himself. Harry didn't blame her, but Hermione's suspicions
were unfounded – he was truly done with the air raids, intending to
keep his head down and hope the Aurors wouldn't connect the a acks
with the Boy-Who-Lived. He thought that scenario highly unlikely, and
no one ever came to ques on him; however, Harry never regre ed
taking the addi onal precau on of Polyjuice.

He spent the last day before the exams relaxing by the Great Lake and
enjoying the pleasantly cool breeze, preferring to get away from the
castle where most fi h-years were fran cally trying to get some last-
minute cramming done. Harry was reasonably sure he'd do all right; not
only he had actually made an effort to study even the subjects he wasn't
that interested in for a change, the mental techniques he used seemed
to have improved his recall ability. He didn't expect to get Os in every
subject, but then again, he wasn't one to make a tragedy out of it like
Hermione was likely to.

Then the dreaded and an cipated days of examina on came. Charms,

Transfigura on, Herbology, and Defense Against the Dark Arts were the
first subjects, followed by a weekend during which Hermione nearly
drove Harry mad with her constant fre ng. The OWL tes ng then
con nued with Po ons, Care of Magical Creatures, Divina on, and
Astronomy exams. Harry thought he did reasonably well in everything
but DADA and Divina on. He was certain he aced the former, while the
la er was nothing short of a disaster. He regre ed not following
Hermione's example and dropping that joke of a class back when she
had.
Their final exam was History of Magic, which mercifully took place in the
a ernoon so everyone was able to sleep their fill. While it certainly
wasn't Harry's best subject, he was determined to get a passing grade
since he figured a History OWL might help him find a job when he
finished Hogwarts. All he had to do was memorize and regurgitate a few
facts and dates about the Wizarding world, a er all.

It wasn't to be, however; his scar started hur ng and he felt a foreign
presence in his mind half an hour into the test.

"Ow, crap," Harry murmured under his breath while rubbing his
forehead. "Can't it wait, Big V? Just call me back in an hour or
something."

Harry was ashamed to admit it, but while he had developed a nearly
unbeatable method of protec ng his memories from an invading
Legilimens, he s ll couldn't reliably block out someone who was
transmi ng their thoughts to him – at least not without experiencing
considerable amounts of pain. And that was exactly what Voldemort
had been doing for the past few weeks, showing him the same dark
corridor and a weird circular room Harry was fairly certain was located in
the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry.

Sure enough, the parchment and desk before Harry's eyes wavered and
faded away, replaced by the familiar hallway with smooth stone walls, lit
only by a few sparsely placed torches. Harry sighed mentally and
decided to ride it out rather than a empt to block the vision and get a
spli ng headache a erwards.

On and on he floated, a bodiless spirit with no control over his direc on

or speed. Harry went through the round room with mul ple doors, one
of which opened obediently at his approach, then zoomed through a
rectangular room which seemed to be filled with clocks of all types and
sizes. He had no me to look around as he le through the opposite
doorway quickly, entering a massive chamber filled with rows upon rows
of dusty, numbered shelves, which seemed to house thousands of murky
glass spheres. He advanced forward at a dizzying speed, un l stopping
abruptly at row ninety seven.

There, at the end of the aisle, he could just make out two figures. One
was tall and unnaturally skinny; Harry nearly mistook it for the Slender
Man, then realized with an odd sense of relief that it was just
Voldemort. The other figure was hunkered down on the floor, and
Voldemort had his wand aimed at its head.

"Pick it up! Pick it up and give it to me, and you'll live," Voldemort
hissed.

"Never," the figure replied hoarsely, and Harry realized with a start who
it was.

"Sirius!" he cried, hearing his own voice ring out back in the Great Hall of
Hogwarts, which suddenly came into focus again. Harry blinked and
raised his head, seeing the curious and wary gazes of the students
around him. He stared at his parchment, then at the aged Ministry
official who was peering at him through his thick horn-rimmed glasses.
Coming to a decision, he quickly circled a few random answers in the
mul ple choice part of the test.

"I'm finished," Harry announced abruptly, then got up and bolted out of
the hall, ignoring the concerned inquiries of the examiner and the
curious murmurs of the other fi h-years.

He tore immediately towards the Gryffindor tower, taking three steps at

a me and reaching for his trusty wand even as he was running.

"Accio Sirius' mirror!"

S ll moving, Harry was nearly hit in the head with the small item as it
whizzed towards him, but he wasn't the Gryffindor Seeker and a twitch
gamer for nothing. Catching the charmed mirror de ly with one hand,
he flipped it over so he would be looking at the reflec ve side.
"Sirius! Sirius Black!"

He waited for a few moments, but the surface stubbornly remained

reflec ve and showed Harry only his reddened face and disheveled hair.
He started jogging again, his legs carrying him towards McGonagall's
office now.

"Come on, Sirius! Answer me, damn it!"

Not le ng his eyes move away from the mirror, Harry nearly walked into
a wall. When he finally heard an answer a few moments later, he leaned
against it and sank to the floor.

"Ha-Harry? Why are you calling so early?" Sirius was bleary-eyed and not
en rely coherent.

"Have you been hi ng the firewhiskey again? It's half past four... Not
that I should be one to talk," admi ed Harry, remembering his summer
escapades when he would some mes get up at similar hours. "More
importantly, are you alright? Anyone torturing you recently?"

Sirius actually took his me to think. "Moony did force me to eat his
cooking yesterday, but that aside – not really, no. Why? Did something
happen?" The man gave Harry a worried look, seemingly fully awake
now.

Harry laughed out loud in relief. "Oh, man, where do I start... I just got a
vision from Voldemort, one where he tortured you in some weird, huge-
ass room the Department of Mysteries. He must have expected me to
rush off to London without even checking in with you first. Seriously,
that's almost insul ng."

Harry got a close-up of Sirius' bulging eyes. "I thought you told me you
had the whole Occlumency situa on under control? It's a good thing I
carry my mirror everywhere and sleep with it under my pillow, or you
might have done something really stupid."
"You know that's creepy, right?" commented Harry. "But I'm glad for it
now. Anyway, that room with a bunch of glass balls, is that real? What
would Voldemort want down there?"

Harry's godfather averted his gaze guil ly. "Sorry, kid, I can't tell you.
Dumbledore insists on keeping it a secret."

The younger wizard rolled his eyes. "Come on, Padfoot, grow a pair. I'll
protect you from the big, bad Dumbledore."

"Hey, Harry, that's not fair!" the animagus whined indignantly.

"Either you tell me, or I'll go there to take a look myself."

"No!" yelped Sirius. He looked away from the mirror to check his
surroundings before con nuing. "Alright, fine, but don't tell anyone else.
We've known for months that Voldemort is a er a prophecy. That room
you described? The whole bloody place is filled with them."

"A prophecy? What does it say?"

"I don't know."

"Sirius..." Harry trailed off threateningly.

"I really don't, I swear! Voldemort and you are the only ones who can
remove it. I figure that's why he wants you there – the snaky bastard
doesn't fancy making a trip himself."

"So he most likely isn't at the Ministry right now, despite what the vision
showed," theorized Harry.

"Of course not! It's not even five yet, so the Ministry is s ll full of
workers." Sirius paused for a moment. "Now that I think of it, if
Voldemort expected you to fall for this, he must consider you really,
really stupid."
"Gee, thanks, Sirius," Harry said dryly. "Like I said, it's almost insul ng...
But maybe we can use this to our advantage. Even if Voldemort himself
isn't there, he must have set a trap of some sort. How else would he get
the prophecy once I remove it for him? Probably an ambush, or even
turning that glass orb into a portkey..." Harry shuddered remembering
the disastrous Triwizard Tournament.

"I don't think so – those spheres are already enchanted to the limit, but
that's neither here nor there. What you need to do now is stay put..."

Harry sighed. "Stop worrying so much, Sirius, I'm not leaving Hogwarts.
Did you really think I'd go off to fight Voldemort by myself? I was just
thinking that we might be able to use their own trap against them
somehow. What do you know about the magical protec ons in the
Ministry?"

Sirius peered at him suspiciously before acquiescing. "Well, there's

bidirec onal an -Appari on and an -portkey wards everywhere but the
Atrium and the Auror dispatch pla orm at the DMLE. The only way to
enter the deeper levels is by passing through the security checkpoint
where they weigh and register your wand. I'm not certain, but I believe
the incoming wards expand to cover everything a er work hours, so the
only way to get in besides the physical entrances would be via an
authorized floo, or perhaps a keyed-in portkey."

Harry rubbed his chin though ully. Since Voldemort wanted Harry there,
he was probably going to send Death Eaters instead of coming himself –
a small group which would be able to move quickly and not a ract too
much a en on. He was certain someone with Lucius Malfoy's level of
influence could easily convince the security guard to take a nice long
break that evening, and procuring an official portkey wasn't out of the
ques on, either. That le the ques on on how the Death Eaters were
planning to escape once they had the prophecy.

"So, let me get this straight – it's impossible to leave from level nine
without going all the way up to the Atrium first?"
"That's right," confirmed Sirius. "Not unless someone destroys the
wards, but the Ministry boasts the second most powerful ones a er
Hogwarts."

"Well then, it's pre y simple. All we have to do is go in with a sizable

force and comb each level for Death Eaters while making sure the
elevators are under watch."

"We are not doing anything, Harry. The Order doesn't have enough
experienced fighters to face them head on right now. I'll get someone to
contact the DMLE, of course, but don't expect too much. They'll most
likely just send in one or two Junior Aurors who'll either do a cursory
check and fail to find anything, or spring the trap and get overpowered
and Obliviated." Sirius shook his head in disgust. "What we need is an
en re squad of Aurors, but with Dumbledore out of the game, no one
here has the clout to make that happen."

"An en re squad, huh?" Harry grinned as an idea just crazy enough to

work formed in his mind. "Sirius, do you know where the Minister lives?"

Harry was walking to the Owlery at a brisk pace, refining an impromptu

plan in his mind. It was based on the simple premise that the person the
Ministry bigwigs were afraid of the most right now was Dumbledore,
followed perhaps by Harry himself. While he had no poli cal influence
as such, he could s ll use his fame (or in this case, infamy) to get Fudge
to do what Harry wanted.

He summoned some sta onery from his room as he climbed the stairs,
and stopped when it arrived to pen a quick le er using the nearest
windowsill as a prop.

Dear Minister,

It has recently come to my a en on that there is a li le glass bauble in

the Department of Mysteries that is mine by right. It is unacceptable that
I was never informed of this!
I'm about to go to the Ministry and pick it up. Do not even think of ge ng
in my way. I'm bringing the en re Dumbledore's Army – all 30 of us – and
our glorious leader himself is only a phoenix fire flash away.

Don't come at me, bro.

Sincerely,

Harry Po er

Harry knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but then again, Fudge was a
moron of the highest order. A minute later, Hedwig was on her way to
the Minister's home in Mayfair, with orders to leave as soon as she
dropped off the le er. Just imagining the shitstorm it would cause made
Harry cackle madly.

Then came the me for the second part of the plan; this one had a much
lower chance of success, but Harry s ll felt compelled to try. He slowly
made his way to the abandoned classroom where he had his talk with
Luna a few months ago, and carefully cast all the silencing and locking
spells he knew. He made himself comfortable on the floor with a
Cushioning Charm, and started breathing deeply and steadily to calm
himself down. What he was about to do required utmost concentra on.
It wasn't every day that one would a empt to send a fake vision to
Britain's most feared Dark Lord, a er all.

Harry had all the necessary knowledge. He had learned how to visualize
memories and send them to someone else via a mind link from his
encounters with Snape and Dumbledore. Voldemort had just proved to
him that the same thing was possible with forged images as well. All
Harry had to do now was put it into prac ce.

"Tempus," he mu ered quietly. It was a quarter a er five. Harry didn't

know what method of transporta on Voldemort expected him to use to
go to the Ministry, but since no one was aware of Harry's ability to
Apparate yet, it had to be either a brooms ck or the floo, provided
there was a fireplace at Hogwarts which remained connected to the
Ministry a er working hours. Not knowing which one it was, Harry
decided to wait and polish his fabricated vision to perfec on.

Nearly an hour later, Harry felt he got it down to a T and was feeling
restless. He concentrated and tried to recall the sensa ons he had felt
when connected with Voldemort's mind earlier that day. His scar
twinged painfully in response, which he took as a good sign. Ignoring the
ache, Harry a empted to open and take control of the mental
connec on, the same way he had with Snape.

Eventually, he started ge ng flashes of foreign thoughts and images,

and withdrew before Voldemort could get suspicious. He started
weaving an elaborate scene in his own mind and gently nudging it, for
lack of a be er word, towards the swirling black vortex which
represented the Dark Lord's presence.

Harry walked briskly through the dimly lit corridor in the Department of
Mysteries, the nearly-transparent invisibility cloak giving the world around
him a silvery hue... He entered the circular chamber with dark marble
floors and charged through a random door, which just happened to lead
him into the familiar room filled with clocks and hourglasses... Harry
started running now, his shoes making no noise thanks to a charm he had
placed on them earlier... It didn't take him long to reach row 97...

Harry imagined how shocked and betrayed he would have felt when he
saw no one at the end of the isle. The feelings of fear and apprehension
were already there, and didn't need to be feigned; Harry was fully aware
he was playing a dangerous game with one the most feared wizards of
the century.

Taking a closer look at the shelves around him, Harry was astonished when
he saw one of the plaques below the spheres had his name on it... He
reached out from under the cloak and picked up the bauble, wondering at
the way mist swirled below the glass surface... Suddenly, he heard a rustle
somewhere deeper within the aisle... Harry turned towards the exit and
ran without looking back, his heart hammering in his chest...
Back in the twilit room at Hogwarts, Harry suddenly opened his eyes,
gasping for breath. The vision he created seemed so real, even his body
had reacted. He immediately slammed his mental defenses into place,
cu ng off his mind from all foreign influences.

As he had learned from the bits of knowledge available in the library

along with good old trial-and-error, protec ng your mind with
Occlumency required a two-fold technique. The first part was filtering
out informa on from the outside world, including his abnormal
connec on with Voldemort, and ignoring everything that didn't belong
in his head. Harry had taken to calling this aspect of his mental
protec on a 'firewall', and it was this part which was giving him the most
trouble: forcibly discarding the subtle sugges ons and not-so-subtle
visions he occasionally received from his 'headmate' always gave him a
headache a erwards.

The second part involved pondering something boring and mundane (or,
in Harry's case, disgus ng and horrifying), and making sure your thought
processes didn't uninten onally wander to dangerous or sensi ve topics
– a sure sign a top-class Legilimens was going a er your memories. Harry
had dubbed this second part his 'an virus'; thankfully, it only had to be
kept up when ac vely defending against a mind reader, as it was quite
ring. He had pre y much mastered this skill during his lesson with
Snape, even going as far as sending some thoughts back to the Po ons
Professor, something he now understood fell under the domain of
Legilimency. Perhaps the greasy bastard was right and he did have a
natural talent for the mental arts.

Harry got up and trudged back to the dorms, determined to keep his
concentra on up for the rest of the evening.
17. Homecoming

"Harry. Oi, Harry!"

"Whoizit?" Harry groused, rolling around in his bed and not realizing
where the muffled voice was coming from.

"It's me, Sirius. Rise and shine, godson."

Harry reached under his pillow and pulled out the magical mirror. He
had put it there last night (not something he was planning to share with
anyone) to get the news as soon as possible.

"Did you have to call this early?"

"You mean like you did yesterday?"

"Oh? What me is it, then?"

"Six in the morning." Sirius sounded disgus ngly chipper for such an
early hour.

Harry groaned. "That is so not the same and you know it!"

"Never mind that, now. What did you do?"

"Why? What happened?" Harry sat up in his bed.

Sirius raised his hands, causing the view in the mirror to wobble wildly.
"I don't even know where to begin! First off, Fudge takes an en re
ba alion of Aurors to the Ministry, where they encounter a whole
bunch of Death Eaters... Was that your doing?"

Harry simply nodded, a smug grin on his face. "All it took was a le er."

"That's bloody amazing! Nothing we did back in school could compare to

pranking the Minister. Except maybe that one me when we enchanted
the doorway to the Great Hall so the pan es of every witch passing
through... Actually, never mind, I'll tell you when you're older."

Harry rolled his eyes at the responsible godfather act. "Whatever. Please
tell me Fudge at least captured some of those bastards."

"They got Crabbe, No , and Goyle. Plus, someone recognized the

Carrow siblings, so they're now to be arrested on sight. The rest were
masked, and managed to escape when" – Sirius paused drama cally –
"Voldemort himself made an appearance! Bet you didn't plan for that,
huh?"

Harry smiled mysteriously, feeling elated at how well his improvised plot
worked. "I didn't plan on the Pale Lord helping them escape, no."

"You... no. There's no way you got Voldemort to appear at the Ministry."
Sirius was shaking his head fran cally. "You can't be that good."

"I admit, my chances of success weren't very high, but I had to try," Harry
said lightly. "The odds were at about 32.33% – repea ng, of course."

"Of course," Sirius parroted back to Harry, too awed to ques on his
strangely precise analysis. "I don't even know what to say... Bringing
Voldemort's return to light is going to help us immensely. Brilliant, Harry,
just brilliant!"

Harry found he rather enjoyed the praise. "I know, right? I'm pre y
damn amazing."

Sirius grinned at his godson's an cs. "All right, wonder boy. However did
you accomplish that?"

"Mind Arts – apparently I'm ge ng really good at those. Well, that, and
the fact that Big V is an arrogant prick who wouldn't consider the idea
that someone could a ack him using his own weapon... But I'll explain
the details later," Harry added, no cing that Sirius was burs ng with
curiosity. "More importantly, how do you know all this?"
"Dumbledore," said Sirius as if that one name explained everything.
"Who do you think fought Voldemort off? I heard it was a ba le of epic
propor ons, one where magics unseen since the age of Merlin were
pi ed against each other in a colossal struggle, which shook the ancient
founda ons of the Ministry building and tore the fabric of the universe
itself... Oh, and then Tonks got him with the Slug-vomi ng Charm."

"You've got to be shi ng me!"

"She was a part of Fudge's entourage, one of the few who managed to
keep her wits about her. Told me she interrupted a Killing Curse, too – I
reckon Dumbledore might even owe her a life debt."

Harry chortled as he imagined the highly terrifying dark wizard choking

on a slug and fizzling the spell. "Tonks is awesome!"

"That's my cousin," said Sirius proudly.

Nothing could wipe the grin off Harry's face during the last days of his
fi h year at Hogwarts. It was a stark contrast to the gloomy
countenances around him. The Daily Prophet had finally admi ed Lord
Voldemort was back, and even the biggest skep cs couldn't keep their
heads in the sand anymore. A few had actually approached Harry and
apologized for disbelieving him; he accepted their apologies
benevolently, nothing ruining his good mood. S ll other students went
to him for advice on defending themselves and their families during the
summer. Harry shared his best ps and recommended a book or two
that he had found useful himself. He was a tad bewildered that people
were taking his sugges ons so seriously, but this kind of a en on wasn't
en rely unpleasant, either.

Dumbledore finally made it back to the school on the day of the Leaving
Feast, and one of the first things he did was invite Harry to his office for
a talk. For once, Harry didn't feel apprehensive about the mee ng,
figuring that they had a lot of things to discuss.
"It's good to have you back, sir," Harry greeted the Headmaster sincerely
a er giving the gargoyle the password ('Liquorice Allsorts') and climbing
up the spiral staircase. "Terribly sorry about the whole Dumbledore's
Army fiasco. The name wasn't my idea, you know. I suggested 'Avengers',
but no one seemed to like it."

"That's all water under the bridge now, Harry. In fact, your li le stunt
freed me to do some things I wouldn't have been able to, otherwise,"
Dumbledore said mysteriously. "But enough about that – I have my own
apology to make. I hear you have suffered in my absence, and for that, I
am sorry."

Harry frowned slightly. "You know about Umbridge? And... Filch?"

Dumbledore nodded serenely. "Indeed. Cornelius Fudge has been

impeached, and the Wizengamot is vo ng to appoint an interim
Minister for Magic as we speak, their last decree in what is shaping up to
be the longest session in centuries. When Minister Fudge is removed
from his office, it is likely that the high-ranking members of his
administra on will be let go as well. Do you know why I am telling you
this, Harry?"

"I suppose that means I could press charges against Umbridge and
actually stand a chance," Harry murmured though ully. Truth be told, it
all sounded like a pain in the ass.

"Quite. In fact, a Ministry inves ga on into dark ar fact usage at

Hogwarts is s ll ongoing, so you might not even need to do anything. As
for Mr. Filch, his ac ons were inexcusable, and, as a result, he is no
longer employed here." Dumbledore's piercing eyes met Harry's own. "It
is up to you, my boy, to decide if you wish to take further ac on.
However, I would urge you to..."

"Yeah, it's cool," interrupted Harry, guessing what the Headmaster would
suggest. "All water under the bridge, as you've said, sir."
Dumbledore beamed at him. "Harry, that's excellent! It warms my heart
to see your capacity for forgiveness."

"Don't misunderstand me, sir, I'm not doing this out of the kindness of
my heart. I simply don't want to waste my efforts when I s ll have a real
enemy to fight. Besides, being forced to live in a world where everyone
looks down on you is a punishment in itself." Harry shook his head. "If
Filch went Muggle, he could have made something out of himself.
Instead, he had endure scorn and derision from schoolchildren. I don't
know if you were the one who hired him, but doing that wasn't kindness
– it was a trap."

Dumbledore sagged in his chair, looking like he had aged a few decades.
He stayed quiet for a long, long me, un l finally breaking the silence.
"Perhaps you are correct, Harry, and this is yet another mistake to be
added to a long and rather ugly list. However, as our American friends
would say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. Living in the wizarding world has
many advantages – yes, even if one is a Squib – and few ever choose to
leave it."

Harry nodded wordlessly, not wan ng to argue.

"Well then, let's not dwell on the topic. Instead, I would like to talk
about you, my dear boy. Sirius tells me you've managed to use the link
you have with Lord Voldemort to manipulate him into revealing himself.
That is truly extraordinary. Not only you have demonstrated a mastery
of Occlumency and Legilimency that few could hope to achieve in a
life me, you have also shown cunning worthy of a true Slytherin."

While Harry had to duck his head slightly to hide his blush, he was
wearing a proud grin. "Why, thank you, sir. The Hat did want to put me
into Slytherin, you know." He gave the ancient garment a momentarily
glance before con nuing. "Now that you know I can protect my mind, I
would like a favor."

"And what would that be, Harry?"

"I want to know what the prophecy says, sir. If Voldemort wants it so
badly, it has to be important. Let me go to the Ministry and take a look
before you send me off to the Dursleys."

"Ah. I suppose you're old enough to know it, Harry," Dumbledore

allowed reluctantly. "However, we won't be going to the Ministry for
this."

Harry shot up from his rather comfortable plush chair. "What? Why?"

Ignoring his outburst, Dumbledore con nued in a calm and level voice.
"The prophecy in ques on was made by our very own Professor
Trelawney, and I am the only one who heard it in its en rety. I am not
opposed to sharing it with you at this juncture."

Harry le the office ten minutes later, his mind reeling with implica ons.

A er saying goodbyes to his friends, Harry slowly dragged his luggage

towards Uncle Vernon, whose impressive girth made it rather easy to
spot him in the crowd. They greeted each other awkwardly and walked
to the car, where something unexpected happened.

"Is that thing safe to touch?" Vernon asked, eyeing Harry's trunk warily.

"Sure. It's not magi– I mean, it's just a regular old trunk."

Vernon nodded s ffly and li ed the trunk into the boot of his car with a
grunt. Harry then quickly deposited the rest of his luggage, namely
Hedwig's cage (minus the owl herself), and a somewhat crude wooden
box Hagrid had fashioned at his request.

At first, the ride home was quiet as usual, but Vernon eventually
decided to break the mold.

"Did you have a good year, then, boy?"

Harry looked up in shock. His uncle was keeping his eyes on the road and
didn't give him a single glance, so Harry couldn't tell what he was
thinking at all.

"Er... yeah, I guess. It was fine."

Vernon grunted in acknowledgment, driving on in silence for a while.

When they reached a stretch of straight road, he spoke again. "You're
good with computers, right?"

"I suppose," Harry answered carefully, wondering what is uncle was

plo ng.

"We bought Dudley a new one, but he's been having some trouble.
Would you take a look at it?"

"Oh. Sure."

His uncle just grunted in response, and Harry had to turn away to hide
his smirk.

When they got back to Privet Drive, his uncle con nued to be civil,
helping Harry carry the heavy luggage inside. Harry thought the en re
experience was quite surreal, but he decided not to look a gi horse in
the mouth.

Speaking of horses, Aunt Petunia met them at the door, gree ng them
briskly and offering them both tea and snacks. Harry opted to just roll
with it rather than ques on the sudden change in the Dursleys'
demeanors, coming down to the kitchen a er pu ng his stuff away. His
rela ves made some small talk during the 'reunion', but, thankfully,
there were no more awkward ques ons.

None too soon, Harry was back in his room, firing up his trusty PC. The
summer had begun, and he was ready to own some noobs.
"There, I'm done reinstalling Windows. Wherever did you get the idea to
delete system32?" Harry asked, shaking his head incredulously.

"Some guy on the internet told me it would make my computer faster,"

Dudley mumbled.

"Well, you go a stop being so gullible. Anyway, if that's all, I'll be going
now."

"Wait!" Dudley looked like he was gathering courage. "I just wanted to
say... thanks. You know, for saving me from Dementy-thingies."

"Oh." Harry stared at his cousin in wonder. "You're welcome, I guess. You
have been a total bastard to me, but even you don't deserve to get your
soul sucked out."

His cousin squirmed uncomfortably. "Um, well. Did you get in trouble for
it? I heard they were going to snap your magic s ck."

Harry sniggered. "My magic s ck is fine, Dudley, but thanks for asking."

Dudley snorted. "Cool."

"Yeah."

An awkward silence descended a er that, so Harry bid a hasty retreat,

eager to get back to more comfortable ac vi es... Such as facerolling
people with his League of Legends smurf, 'HairyBo er'.

To Harry's consterna on, his cousin remained oddly amiable and

talka ve throughout the holiday, constantly trying to draw Harry into a
conversa on about one thing or another. Eventually Harry started
replying in more than one or two words, and found out that despite not
having much in common, they could get along fairly well. Vernon had
apparently built a home gym for his son in the garage, and Harry
occasionally joined Dudley in li ing heavy things and pu ng them
down. He wasn't very dedicated, leaving whenever it was me for his
favorite anime simulcasts on Crunchyroll, but he did hope to escape
Auschwitz mode some day.

Otherwise, he was prepared to spend his summer gaming. There were

Steam sales to look forward to, and a er ordering some new parts his
PC was pulling 60 FPS at 1080p even in the newest tles. Harry felt a bit
guilty for having mindless fun while there was a war raging in the
wizarding world, but Dumbledore had actually told him outright that the
best thing he could do is stay safe and hidden under the blood wards. In
fact, he urged the young wizard to stay inside the house as much as
possible, something Harry might have had a problem with a few years
ago, but not anymore.

That isn't to say that he became a total shut-in: Dumbledore's warning

was given under the assump on that the only modes of transporta on
available to Harry were the Knight Bus, Muggle vehicles, or brooms cks,
all of them being rela vely slow and insecure. However, Harry could
Apparate now, which meant that he could leave the blood wards at
Privet Drive and enter the protec on of the Fidelius charm at 12
Grimmauld Place without anyone being the wiser. While he s ll had to
spend considerable amount of me with the Dursleys in order to charge
the wards, he did enjoy a few poker nights with Sirius, Tonks, and
some mes Bill and Fleur at the ancestral home of the Black family. He
even managed to pester his godfather into le ng him have a beer or
two on those occurrences.

He had also kept in touch with Hermione via Skype. The studious witch
usually wanted to compare homework or speculate on their exam
results, whereas Harry just pestered her to show him her boobies. While
his a empts had failed, it did have a welcome side effect of lightening
her up, something Harry believed his best friend needed badly. Their
contact didn't last long, however, as Hermione le on a long trip to the
con nental Europe with her parents two weeks into the holiday. As for
Ron, Harry did send Hedwig with a short message every now and then,
but he found it a frustra ng experience since they were warned not to
put any important informa on in their le ers. Harry had no interest in
the abysmal performance of Chudley Canons, and, from his perspec ve,
Ron was s ll stuck in a medieval lifestyle.

A sudden knock on Harry's door caused him to lose the grin he had been
spor ng as he read fat people stories on the internet. He sighed and
trudged up to the door wearily, finding the Dursley offspring there.

"Hey, Harry." His cousin seemed to be dressed sharper than usual, and
looked a bit nervous.

"Hey, Dudley. What's up?"

"A few of my friends came over, and, well, we were wondering if you'd
like to hang out with us."

"I must have misheard you," said Harry incredulously. "I thought you just
said you wanted me to hang out with you and your friends."

"Er, yeah."

"Do I know them?" Harry asked wearily. He felt more confident about
defending himself now, but there was no way he was going to face the
rat-faced bastard, Piers Polkiss, without the permission to do magic.

"I don't think so. They're my classmates: Daniel, Amy, and Megan. We're
just going to watch a movie and play some Xbox or something."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the last part, but nodded. "Girls, huh? Let me
just find a clean shirt first."

He put on the first T-shirt that passed the sniff test, and replaced his
worn sweatpants with a pair of more respectable chinos. Harry then
clambered downstairs to find Dudley and co in the living room, si ng in
front of the Dursleys' 42-inch telly. His cousin and a bloke he assumed
was Daniel were reclining on the sofa, a brune e with a fake tan
sprawled on the la er's lap. The second girl was perched on the edge of
an armchair, cha ng animatedly with the other three; she was a lot
cuter, Harry thought, if only because she had less makeup caked on her
face.

A er gree ngs and introduc ons were exchanged, Harry learned that,
yes, the buff guy was Daniel, and his Oompa Loompa girlfriend was Meg.
The a rac ve blonde was named Amy, and she seemed to be quite
interested in Harry. He se led on the second armchair under her curious
gaze.

"Fancy a beer, Harry?" Dudley asked, handing him a can. "Dan here got
us some booze."

"Sure," Harry said resignedly, scru nizing the can of Tesco Value Lager
with distaste. There was more of the stuff on the coffee table, as well a
a large plas c bo le of cider.

"Of course he does, he's a bad boy!" Meg giggled. "You go to a place
called St. Brutus, don'tcha? What's it like?"

Harry took a swig of his drink, frowning at the watery taste as he

pondered the ques on. "The school's deep in the woods, with a huge
fence all around it. They sort the students into four groups, depending
on how evil they are. The teachers are really strict and give us
deten ons for things like breathing too loudly. One even used to beat
people as punishment, but he got fired recently."

"What did you do to get sent there, anyway?" wondered Daniel.

"Oh, um... I got into fights a lot." Harry floundered a bit when he no ced
the skep cal stares sent his way. He supposed he didn't really look the
part of a hardened street thug. "Here," he said, extending his arm. "I got
this scar in a knife fight back when I was eleven."

"Wicked," breathed Amy, leaning over to inspect the reminder from

Harry's ba le with the Basilisk. "Do you have any more?"
"Sure." Harry rolled up the le leg of his pants, gesturing at the mul ple
small scars. "I got these when I crashed into a wall while riding my...
bike." Dudley's classmates seemed suitably impressed, but he really
hoped they wouldn't con nue with this line of ques oning, as he was
bound to make a mistake eventually.

"Bike? Would you give me a ride?" Amy asked, flu ering her eyelashes at
him.

Harry grinned. "I'd love to, but I le it at my godfather's. Dudley's

parents don't really like that sort of stuff."

Dudley twitched at that, and Harry had to suppress a snort. While the
fact that Sirius was s ll a wanted criminal was no laughing ma er, the
Dursleys' reac ons to him were rather hilarious.

"Aww." Amy pouted. "Maybe some other me."

Harry smiled at the girl, wondering if he had a chance with her. "I like
your shirt, Amy," he said, no cing the familiar insignia with two wings.
"Who's your favorite character in the Survey Corps?"

"The what?" Amy asked confusedly.

"You know, the Survey Corps – you have their emblem on your shirt.
From A ack on Titan? The anime show?..." Harry trailed off, suddenly
ge ng a feeling that he had made a huge mistake.

Amy frowned slightly, looking down at her shirt. "I just thought the
wings looked kinda cool."

Meg chortled, draping herself around Daniel's neck. "He's talking about
those Chinese cartoons my li le brother watches all the me. God,
Dudley, your cousin's such a nerd."

Harry groaned inwardly. "Damn," he mu ered. "I should have known to

hide my power level."
18. Visitors

A few weeks into the holiday, and Harry was already so absorbed in his
withdrawn lifestyle that an unexpected guest from the magical
community came as quite a shock to him. Despite that, when Aunt
Petunia had knocked on his door and told him that someone of 'his kind'
wanted to see him, he asked her to tell them to wait a few minutes.
Harry didn't care if Dumbledore himself was there to tell him that
Hogwarts had fallen – nothing would make him quit the match midway
and lose his ra ng. A man had to have his priori es, a er all.

A few minutes turned into half an hour, but when he finally came
downstairs, the mysterious visitor was s ll wai ng in the Dursleys' living
room.

"Finally decided to grace me with your presence, Mr. Po er?"

"Who are you?" Harry reached for his wand, eyeing the newcomer with
suspicion. The wizard had grizzled shoulder-length hair and rather fierce
yellow eyes. While he had the air of a fighter about him, the unfamiliar
man held nothing more threatening than a cup of tea in his hands.

"You don't know who I am? Don't you read the papers, Mr. Po er?"

"Um..." Truth be told, while he s ll had a subscrip on to the Daily

Prophet, he had only been using it to line Hedwig's cage.

"Well, never mind. My name is Rufus Scrimgeour, and I am the Minister

for Magic."

"Interim one?" Harry asked, remembering Dumbledore's words.

Scrimgeour's expression soured slightly. "For now, but that's neither here
nor there."

"How did you find me, anyway?"

"Official records, of course. How did you think we sent you those owls
last summer?"

Harry's opinion of Dumbledore's vaunted blood wards dropped

somewhat. "Oh, right. Why are you here, sir?" He took a seat opposite
to the Minister, surrep ously poin ng his wand at him under the table.

"I have something important to ask of you, Mr. Po er. Could we re re to

somewhere more private? Your room, perhaps?" The Minister stared
towards the kitchen door with dissa sfac on; knowing Aunt Petunia,
she was probably lurking there trying to listen in.

Harry thought back to the piles of energy drinks and empty ramen cups
in his room, and blushed slightly. "No, here's fine."

"If you insist. Let me just make sure we're not overheard." The wizard
raised his own wand and made a few swishes, murmuring under his
breath. "Don't worry, Mr. Po er, you won't get in trouble – I no fied the
Improper Use of Magic Office that I would be visi ng your residence in
advance," explained Scrimgeour, misinterpre ng Harry's wary gaze.

"Now, for the ma er at hand. We are facing dark mes, Mr. Po er, and
the Ministry could use the assistance of loyal ci zens like yourself. Your
public support for my administra on would restore faith in the
government and ensure the Ministry stays strong with me at its helm. I
promise you, I will do everything in my power to deal with the current
crisis and bring the murderer of your parents to jus ce."

Harry was incredulous; a er all the bullshit from the Ministry, this
person, this poli cian wanted his support! He had to bite his lip to
prevent himself from speaking out.

"You wouldn't need to do much, Mr Po er – a few public appearances

and an interview or two would suffice. The influence you hold right now
is great. A er You-Know-Who's return and your subsequent vindica on,
some members of the public have go en this crazy idea in their heads...
They believe you are the Chosen One, the wizard des ned to defeat the
Dark Lord. It's all a bunch of nonsense, of course, but your backing
would be invaluable all the same."

"Oh, but I am," Harry said pleasantly, red of the Minister's pra le.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, sir. I am literally the only one who can defeat Voldemort.
The prophecy in the Department of Mysteries says so."

"That's preposterous!" protested Scrimgeour. "I mean no offense, Mr.

Po er, but boy who has just received his OWLs would stand no
chance..."

Harry snorted. "You don't have to tell me, Minister. It's not like I chose
this, you know. I'll just have to make due with the cards I was dealt."

Scrimgeour frowned though ully. "If there's any truth to your claim, you
are going to need training and guidance. The Ministry would be happy
to provide both, of course."

"No, thank you." Harry shuddered at the thought of becoming a lackey

like Percy Weatherby.

"Why ever not?" The Minister blustered. "I don't think you appreciate
the gravity of the situa on, Mr. Po er!"

"Look, Minister, let's be realis c here. What do you think are the chances
I'll be able to defeat Voldemort a er a year or two of intense training?"

"Next to none," admi ed Scrimgeour unhappily. "If it were that easy, our
Aurors would have apprehended him a long me ago."

"There you go. Besides, I feel very li le mo va on to risk my life for the
wizarding world right now. If Voldemort comes a er me, I'll defend
myself, but otherwise you will have to fend for yourselves."
"Now see here, Po er! If you are truly the only one who can bring down
You-Know-Who, you would be throwing us to the wolves! Everyone has
a part to play in this war, and you can't just shirk your duty..."

"My... duty?" Harry spoke the word with distaste. "You have the nerve to
say that a er your Ministry dragged my name through the mud? A er
you people sent your official to Hogwarts to torture us with blood quills
and whips? I don't owe you shit, Minister."

Scrimgeour's face darkened. "Mind your tongue, Mr. Po er. We're

inves ga ng the viola ons commi ed by the previous administra on.
The guilty par es are going to be punished, I assure you; that includes
the former Senior Undersecretary, as well."

"I don't care about the vile woman, as long as she stays the hell away
from me." Umbridge was just a cog in the machine, a er all. "You should
be arres ng Death Eaters instead. Fudge did something useful right
before he was ousted, at least. I can't believe the likes of Malfoy and
No , who I've named over a year ago, are s ll at large."

Scrimgeour shook his head. "We can't just take your word on it, Mr.
Po er – we must follow due process. They're both respected
purebloods, and Lucius Malfoy is an influen al public figure to boot.
Ac ng rashly could result in a significant backlash from other prominent
families, which would ruin my chances in the upcoming elec ons... and
our country needs a strong leader right now."

"That son of a bitch carries the Dark Mark!" Harry jumped out of his
chair, incensed.

"And he was acqui ed of all charges in regards to that a er the last war.
Let it drop, Po er; Lucius is slippery and smart. We are monitoring the
situa on, but we need incontrover ble evidence before we can act."

"So raid his house and dose him with Veritaserum! I can't believe I have
to tell you how to do your job. Malfoy is out there, working to bring his
master back to power, while you're si ng on your ass worrying about
your approval ra ng. This kind of crap is exactly why I have no inten on
of helping you!"

"You don't want me as your enemy, boy," Scrimgeour growled. "I could
make your life very difficult."

"Really?" Harry drawled skep cally as he sat down again. "I doubt you
have any power over Gringo s, or you'd have frozen Death Eater vaults,
so my money is safe. And with Dumbledore back, you can't expel me
from Hogwarts, either. What are you going to do, diss me on the Daily
Prophet again?"

Scrimgeour's face slowly turned a red color almost worthy of Vernon

Dursley. "I understand it is your ambi on to become an Auror. I can
make certain you would never be able to hold any posi on at the
Ministry."

"Your informa on is outdated, Minister. I'd rather marathon all the

seasons of Honey Boo Boo than work for you or your ilk. Fudge was bad
enough, but your a tude so far isn't much be er."

"You..." The Minister visibly struggled to regain control of his temper.

"Very well, Po er, you've made your posi on clear. I can see that you
greatly overes mate your importance. The Ministry is more than
capable of figh ng this war without you."

"If you say so. Let me know when you're ready to talk on my terms,
Minister," Harry said dismissively.

Just a Harry had expected, the Minister came back to Privet Drive soon
enough. This me, the young wizard himself had answered the door, as
the Dursleys were away on a family ou ng; they had actually invited
him, as well, but Harry refused suspec ng that was exactly what they
were hoping for.
A er a perfunctory gree ng, the Minister went straight to the point.
"We'd like to verify the veracity of the prophecy, Mr. Po er. Will you
come to the Ministry to remove the sphere for us?"

Harry agreed immediately, thinking it would actually work to his

advantage. The Minister used a portkey which took them straight to the
lower levels, and then walked Harry past the newly-instated security
checkpoints. Mere ten minutes later, they were listening to the raspy
voice of Sybil Trelawney in the company of several hooded
Unspeakables.

"...And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal, but he shall have power
the Dark Lord knows not… And either must die at the hand of the other for
neither can live while the other survives..."

As soon as the recording ended, the Unspeakables started talking

among themselves excitedly, while the Minister cursed loudly.

"How, Mr. Po er? How are you supposed to defeat him, when even
Dumbledore couldn't?"

"Hell, what do I know. Maybe his Killing Curse will rebound again due to
some ridiculously contrived coincidence."

"I really wish you took this more seriously," Scrimgeour admonished him
with a frown.

"I take it things aren't going too well, sir?" Harry asked innocently.

The Minister avoided Harry's eyes. "We have it all under control. The
damn prophecy really complicates things, however. Our analysts will
prepare a report for me in a few days, but I can see even now that you
have a significant role to play in all this." He looked around the dusty
Hall of Prophecies, and addressed one of the Unspeakables. How he
recognized the man through the impenetrable hood he wore was
beyond Harry. "Croaker. We'll be borrowing your office for a bit."
A few minutes later, Harry found himself in a spartan room, perched on
the edge of an uncomfortable wooden chair. The Minister, as was his
privilege, took the comfortable-looking leather armchair, which
presumably belonged to Croaker himself.

"I know we got off on the wrong foot last me, Mr. Po er," began
Scrimgeour carefully. "Let me assure you that I appreciate the hardships
you've been through. The Ministry is prepared to make concessions in
return for your coopera on. You would be trained by our finest Aurors,
and we'd even grant you the same s pend that Academy recruits
receive."

"The answer's s ll no, sir. I'm going to do this my way – or no way at all."
Harry wondered if he could drop a bomb on Voldemort's house, and
whether the bastard would survive it. The villains in stories never died
from something so mundane and impersonal, a er all.

Rufus seemed about to explode in anger again, but the expression of

fury on his face was suddenly replaced by that of deep thought. "Could
it be that you are aware of this 'power he knows not'?" he asked
shrewdly.

Harry smiled mysteriously. "Headmaster had an idea about that." He

neglected to men on that he found it completely idio c; there was no
way he was going to defeat Voldemort using love.

"So you and Dumbledore will be making every effort to bring You-Know-
Who down, then?" the Minister pressed him.

"Not at all. Like I told you last me, I won't move a finger unless it's to
protect myself and my friends. If you want my help, you will have to pay
for it."

Scrimgeour ground his teeth. "Fine, I'll humor you, Po er. How much do
you want?"
"I'll defeat Voldemort for" – Harry paused for drama c effect – "one
hundred billion Galleons!"

The Minister made a rather undignified snort. "Don't be da , boy. There

aren't that many Galleons in circula on, never mind the government
funds."

"Oh." Harry pouted. "You know, Wizarding economy never made much
sense to me. Fine, I'll do it for one million Galleons, then."

Rufus bristled. "That's more than half of our yearly DMLE budget – and
that's a er Fudge increased it by thirty percent!".

"Ah. But can your Aurors kill Voldemort?" Harry asked slyly.

"Can you?" challenged Scrimgeour.

"We'll see. I won't ask for the money upfront, anyway. Think of it as a
bounty on Voldemort's head."

The Minister actually looked though ul for a few moments, but then he
shook his head and glared at Harry angrily. "You would hold our en re
society hostage, and a empt to extort the Ministry? Have you gone
insane, Po er?"

"Sanity? I think I remember losing that useless thing last summer." Harry
buffed his nails on his shirt, the very image of carelessness. He knew he
had Rufus Scrimgeour by the balls; the government needed him, badly.
"Thankfully, it's not necessary to defeat Voldemort."

"You seem awfully certain of yourself. Fine," spat Rufus. "If you eliminate
the Dark Lord, you can have your gold."

"Excellent," crowed Harry. "I'll want it wri en down in a binding

contract, of course. Can't have you backing out of a deal once the deed
is done."
"Don't be ludicrous, Po er! There's no way I could sign something like
that. If word got out, it would be a disaster!"

Harry sighed. This nego a on thing was really ring, and he didn't think
his Charisma a ribute was high enough. "I see we're ge ng nowhere, so
let's return to this subject later. There's actually a few more things I need
from you before I defeat Voldemort." Seeing Scrimgeour's yellow eyes
narrow in anger, Harry raised his hands placa ngly and added, "small
favors, I assure you, and most of them crucial to Voldemort's downfall."

"Let's hear it, then." Rufus mo oned him to proceed wearily.

Harry suppressed a grin. The money was just a red herring; he wasn't at
all certain he could defeat Voldemort, a er all. His real goal was ge ng
the Minister to grant him certain boons.

"First of all, you have to do something about that Restric on of

Underage Sorcery thing. I have to be able to defend myself without
worrying about ge ng my wand snapped."

"I suppose that's reasonable," grunted Rufus. "The Wizengamot has

been delibera ng on lowering the age limit to fi een as it is, but we
might be able to get you a special authoriza on."

"Secondly, if I am to fight Voldemort, I will run into his minions for sure. I
want permission to use lethal force against them, including the
Unforgivables."

"That's something only our senior Aurors are authorized to do. Gran ng
this much power and responsibility to a teenager is out of the ques on."

"Do you really expect me to use Expelliarmus when they throw Avada
Kedavras at me?" Harry watched impassively as the Minister glowered at
him, clearly understanding that the younger wizard was right. "Very well,
let's move on. My final request is correc ng a great injus ce done by
Minister Bagnold's government. Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban
without a trial. That man is innocent; it was Peter Pe grew who
betrayed my parents."

"How do you know all this? Have you been in contact with Black?"
Scrimgeour seemed eager to make some arrests.

"Er... no, of course not. Pe grew gloated about it when I met him back
in my third year. Then I watched him resurrect Voldemort using my
blood, among other things, during my fourth. I told that idiot Fudge all
about it, but he wouldn't believe me. You won't make the same mistake,
will you, sir?"

Rufus frowned at the unsubtle implica on. "If what you are saying is
true, I might be able to get him a trial. S ll, he is widely known as one of
the most dangerous Death Eaters, and it would look like we're giving in
to his demands. I'm not sure this would send the right message."

"That's what you're worried about?" Harry glared at the insufferable

poli cian. "Think of all the good press you will get for correc ng the
mistakes of your predecessors. Besides, isn't House Black supposed to be
Very Ancient and Noble or something? I'm sure Sirius would be eternally
grateful and offer his support... um, not that I know him personally, or
anything."

"It's Noble and Most Ancient, Mr. Po er," Scrimgeour corrected Harry
automa cally, a far-away look in his eyes. "As I recall, the Blacks s ll
have their seat on the Wizengamot... Ah, excuse me, just thinking out
loud. If I manage to get him a hearing, will you drop the rest of your
ridiculous demands?"

"It's a package deal, sir," Harry said with unfeigned regret. At the very
least, he had to be able to fight the Death Eaters using everything he
had, and without fear of being sent to Azkaban on some trumped-up
charges a erwards. "But if you do that, I'll take it as a sign of good will
and you just might find me more amenable."
"You're unbelievable, Po er. Don't you care about your fellow wizards?
Will you sit back and let You-Know-Who destroy our country?"

"It's Voldemort, Minister. And isn't it the government's job to protect its
ci zens?" Harry stood up and nodded curtly. "I'll find my own way back."

Harry was at the door mere moments a er the bell rang. The Dursleys
had been warned in advance, so they ignored it in lieu of watching the
telly.

"Good day, Harry," the Headmaster of Hogwarts greeted him at the door.
The wizened man had the presence of mind to dress in Muggle clothes,
if you counted the garish purple suit as one. "How are you holding up?"

"Hello, sir. I'm fine, thanks for asking," Harry answered, stepping outside
himself. Dumbledore raised a ques oning eyebrow, but followed him to
the Dursleys' backyard without a comment. Harry didn't care if the
Headmaster considered it rude not to invite him inside the house; he
himself thought it was a bit impolite of the wizard to just announce the
date of his visit and not even bother to ask if it suited Harry.
(Incidentally, it did, since he rarely ventured outside the house, but it
was the principle of the ma er that was important.)

Harry sat his guest down at the cheap plas c table that the Dursleys
used occasionally, and poured them both some lemonade that he had
prepared in advance. The Headmaster seemed to appreciate the
homemade drink, if him polishing off the en re glass in under a minute
was any indica on.

"Thank you, Harry, that was quite refreshing. Now, are you done
packing? We can depart for the Burrow as soon as you fetch your things
and say your goodbyes."

"Actually," Harry spoke carefully, "I was wondering if I could stay here. I
don't really have to go, do I?"
Dumbledore looked shocked, the half-moon glasses sliding down his
great nose. "Not at all, my boy. I daresay the Weasleys are going to be
quite disappointed, but don't let that discourage you. Ah, it warms my
old heart to see you want to spend more me with your family."

Harry snorted. "Sure, let's go with that." He fidgeted with his glass a
li le. "Um, sir, there's something else I wanted to talk about."

Dumbledore was in for a second surprise that day, for Harry told him
about his ability to Apparate. He wanted to test his skill immediately, so
the two teleported to the Burrow and back. The Headmaster then
praised Harry's impressive achievement, but admonished him for
prac cing the dangerous magic without supervision.

It was quickly agreed that Harry could now visit the Weasleys or Sirius
whenever he wanted, for the wards had been charged sufficiently at that
point. Of course, Harry had been dropping by the 12 Grimmauld Place
for a while now, but what Dumbledore didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

Compared to Dumbledore's, the Minister's next visit was decidedly less

pleasant, but a lot more rewarding. Rufus Scrimgeour had come to Privet
Drive with three surly Aurors in tow, and for a few moments, Harry
thought they were going to e him up and drag him to the Ministry to
be brainwashed. However, the leader of the magical Britain le his men
downstairs, ignoring Petunia's indignant spu ering, and joined the
young wizard in his room.

Paying no heed to the mess around him, Scrimgeour cast so many

privacy charms that Harry had lost count. Some of the spells didn't do
anything obvious, while the others had very no ceable effects: not a
sound reached them from the outside, and Harry had to turn on the
lights as his window got blacked out as well. He jerked as one of the
bulbs flickered and blew out from the sheer amount of magic in the air,
and was glad for his foresight to turn the computer off in advance.
The Minister spoke only a er he was certain no one would be listening
in. "There has been a mass breakout from Azkaban," he said redly. "A
number of Death Eaters and other highly dangerous criminals have
escaped. Some inmates have been le behind and Kissed, presumably
for refusing to join the Dark Lord. Worst of all, the Dementors have
defected to his side, as well."

"That sucks," commented Harry while picking his nose.

The Minister seethed visibly at his a tude. "Why are you ac ng like this
doesn't concern you?"

"Because I stopped giving a fuck, and it's been the best decision I've ever
made. Life is so much easier now. Anyway, you will sign the contract
now, I take it?" Harry waved a thick bundle of parchment that he had
go en out of a drawer while the Minister was busy securing the place. It
was prepared by a solicitor that Sirius had recommended, who
translated Harry's demands into legalese and applied the most powerful
binding magics available.

"Yes. Yes, damn you! Let me look it over." Scrimgeour grabbed the
contract and mu ered a quick Lumos as the bedroom was too poorly-lit
to discern the fancy handwri en script.

Harry occupied himself by observing the Minister while he read. The

man was looking quite disheveled and had dark bags under his eyes;
Harry was reminded that there was a war raging out there, and he
would soon be back in the thick of it. He looked at his computer
longingly and sighed.

The Minister frowned and clacked his tongue while studying the
contract, but didn't speak un l he reached the last part. He raised his
head and stared at Harry incredulously. "Let me get this straight, Po er.
Not only you want a license to kill, you also want a full pardon for any
crimes you commit while figh ng You-Know-Who or his minions? Do you
realize how vague that is?"
"You will no ce that I'm only allowed to use deadly force against marked
Death Eaters, Minister, and that's what I intend to do. The other
s pula on is there so I don't end up having to pay for collateral damage
if I blow something up while owning their asses."

"Why does it have to be retroac ve?" Scrimgeour asked suspiciously.

"Oh, that's because of what happened back in my first year. I killed a

man possessed by Voldemort in self-defense. Funny story, that – I don't
know what Dumbledore told you guys, but I'll be happy to share the
truth. If I get this pardon and get to keep a clean record, that is." Of
course, Harry actually had his more recent exploits in mind, but the
Minister didn't need to know that.

Scrimgeour sighed. "I don't have a choice, do I? You're lucky the

Wizengamot has granted me emergency powers. I wouldn't have the
authority to give you all these outrageous concessions otherwise."

"Hooray for the snooty old men in the Wizengamot, then," Harry
commented dryly as he rummaged in his trunk for wri ng utensils.

"Hey, kiddo!" Sirius greeted him with a one-armed hug and ruffled his
hair. "What brings you here today?"

The Ministry had contacted him a few days ago with a date for his
hearing, and Sirius had been ac ng like an excited puppy ever since.
Harry was just happy to see him so cheerful despite spending a decade
in Azkaban with only Dementors for company. A man had to have
unbelievable mental strength to survive torment like that.

"Just wanted to take a look at your library. You haven't got rid of all
those books on dark magic, have you?" Harry was hoping to find
something that would help him defeat Voldemort. Something sneaky,
evil, and smart, like sending him a le er wri en in explosive runes, if
those actually existed. A magical duel was clearly out of the ques on;
Harry knew he'd just get his ass handed to him.
Even his godson's sudden interest in the Dark Arts couldn't wipe the
smile off Sirius' face. "Nah, they're s ll there. Burning books seemed kind
of barbaric, you know? Just be careful, some of them are cursed."

And so, Harry spent the a ernoon studying in the Black library under
the supervision of Sirius, who had to rescue him a few mes from some
par cularly aggressive publica ons which tried to ensnare his mind or
bite off his fingers. The two had dinner a erwards and spent the
evening dueling, something Harry had requested Sirius to teach him. His
aim and reflexes were already pre y good, but he had to learn more
spells and incorporate them into his dueling style. Despite Harry's
realis c outlook on his chances in a fight with Voldemort, he saw no
reason not to improve himself as much as he could. Besides, magical
combat was fun, just like playing an ac on RPG in real life.

Harry stayed overnight at Sirius' insistence, as well as because the

Weasleys were coming over tomorrow and he felt a bit guilty about
ignoring Ron for most of the summer. He was wrung out a er the
intense magical workout, so he quickly crashed in a spare bedroom
which had belonged to Sirius' younger brother, Regulus. Since he went to
sleep so soon, he actually managed to wake up at some ungodly early
hour, just in me to see the Weasley family arrive and bring noise and
bedlam into the normally quiet house. Harry spent the morning catching
up and playing Gobstones with his friend.

Then, Remus arrived at a ernoon, and he wasn't looking too good

despite it not being anywhere near full moon. "Women troubles," Sirius
had whispered to Harry conspiratorially, and Harry was suddenly
determined to help his father's friend out despite his own lack of
experience in the area.

"Hey, Remus. Have you ever thought about going for Muggle women?"

"E-excuse me?"

"I get that witches look down on you because of the whole lycanthropy
thing. That's why you should go for Muggle girls – just tell them you're a
werewolf, and they'll be all over you. I mean, look at the whole Twilight
crap." He nodded wisely to himself and le Remus to ponder Harry's
advice.

More and more Order members arrived as the day drew to a close, and
Harry made sure to stock up on food before the mee ng started and he
would inevitably be kicked out of the kitchen. He didn't par cularly mind
being excluded; in fact, Harry found it rather amusing to think that he
probably did more to sow fear and confusion among the Death Eater
ranks than the Order ever did.

It was just him, Ron, and Ginny who were le out, so they hung out
together in the library, which had the most comfortable armchairs. The
topic of the conversa on somehow turned to Bill and Fleur, and it soon
became apparent that Ginny disliked the la er for some reason. Ron,
however, was her staunch defender, which annoyed Ginny to no end. As
for Harry, he was rather jealous of Bill, and immediately pointed out
that the man was a total cradle-robber.

"He violated the Rule... You know, the one that states that it's
unacceptable to date anyone who is younger than half your age plus
seven, rounded up," Harry explained, seeing the blank looks of the
Weasleys' faces. "They're going to be all right in a few years, but not
right now, and definitely not when they started da ng."

"Er..." Ron scrunched his face in thought; clearly, even basic arithme cs
wasn't something that the pureblood wizard had to do very o en. "Can't
we make an excep on in this case? I mean, Fleur is so..." Ron trailed off,
a dreamy look on his face.

"Oh, I suppose we can let it slide," Harry agreed reluctantly. He had been
planning to give Bill some shit about it, but Fleur's undeniable hotness
trumped everything else.

Ginny rolled her eyes in disgust. "Boys."

A few more weeks passed, and Sirius finally got his hearing. Everyone
was understandably anxious watching the trial unfold from the public
gallery, but a er a ques oning under Veritaserum, there was nothing
the Wizengamot could do but drop all charges and issue a formal
apology. The Ministry had also prepared a monetary compensa on,
probably as a preemp ve measure so Sirius wouldn't be so tempted to
sue them to high heaven.

The newly acqui ed man was swarmed with reporters upon exi ng the
li at the Atrium, but he handled their insistent ques ons with good
nature and grace, something Harry thought he had to learn himself if he
didn't want a repeat of the fiasco during the Triwizard Tournament. S ll,
Sirius had begged off fairly quickly, and they all le for Grimmauld Place
to celebrate him being a free man again. The celebratory party was
understandably tame, considering there were underage wizards and
witches present, and only lasted un l early evening. Then Sirius, Remus,
and Mundungus Fletcher, of all people, went on a pub crawl. Harry
shook his head and hoped his godfather didn't end up in a ditch
somewhere with his kidney missing.
19. Back to School

All too soon, Harry was back on the Hogwarts Express, securing an en re
compartment just for himself, Ron, and Hermione, one of the perks of
being an upper-year. He had departed from Privet Drive one day early
and spent it with Sirius and Ron instead, leaving for King's Cross with his
godfather and best mate. The Dursleys were a lot more tolerable now,
but they weren't his real family.

Harry had appropriated an en re bench and lied down with his shoes
off while Ron and Hermione went on their mandatory prefect patrols. A
sudden slamming of the doors announced their return and sent painful
reverbera ons through Harry's skull. He groaned and rubbed his
forehead.

"Are you all right, Harry? Did you have a vision?" Hermione asked
immediately with concern in her voice.

"Nah, a er the way I tricked Voldemort, he keeps his mind shut ghter
than a nun's asshole. I'm just s ll hung over."

Hermione gaped at him, seemingly uncertain which one she should be

more horrified about: Harry's coarse language, or the fact that he
apparently got wasted.

"You're underage!" she finally managed to blurt out.

"Yeah, well, so is Ron." The Hogwarts Express took a turn, and Harry
shielded his eyes from the glaring sun.

"Ronald, you're a prefect! How did the two of you manage to get drunk,
anyway?"

"It was sort of my idea," Harry admi ed, now feeling a bit guilty about
redirec ng Hermione's ire at his mate. "Tonks, Bill, and Fleur came over
to Grimmauld Place yesterday, and I convinced them to play beer pong
with us. It's something I had never done before, see, so I wanted to try
it." Harry frowned, trying to recall the slightly hazy memories of the last
evening. "It turns out that Ron is some sort of a beer pong prodigy, so
his team didn't have to drink nearly as much as ours did."

Ron grinned smugly at that, but his proud smile faded when he met
Hermione's glare. He cast about the compartment desperately, looking
for something safer to talk about.

"So, Harry, what's up with the box?" He pointed out the rough wooden
container currently residing in the luggage rack.

"Oh, that." Harry yawned widely. "Just some Muggle stuff I'm bringing in
for my project. Nothing too interes ng." He didn't have the pa ence to
explain laptops and solar chargers to the pureblood wizard right now.

Hermione, meanwhile, was mu ering darkly about irresponsible

godfathers and corrupt Aurors, and ignoring the two boys altogether. It
suited Harry just fine, as he was able to take a nice nap before they
arrived at Hogwarts.

While the other students filed into the Great Hall, Harry slipped away to
make a quick delivery. Well, as quick as he could make it, for his burden
was quite heavy; Hagrid had used thick, rough planks bound with iron,
and the final product resembled a classic treasure chest from video
games. Harry had smoothed the wood inside the container with
sandpaper and then paid some seventh-years to carve the necessary
runes. It had to be carried by hand, as any magic cast directly on it could
have overpowered the ward – same reason why Harry didn't simply
entrust the task to the house elves.

He stopped to catch his breath on the second floor, halfway to his

special room, and set the sturdy box down with a grunt. A nearby
portrait of a young, muscular man in a tunic addressed him with a sneer.

"Brother, thou art weak! Dost thou even hoist?"

"Shut it, you primi ve screwhead," Harry replied with a blush. He picked
up the chest again and started trudging up the stairs, the young man
following him through the portraits and yelling about the importance of
drinking a gallon of milk a day.

Harry slipped in through the doors which his friends had le ajar at his
request, and reached the Gryffindor table without a rac ng too much
a en on. Everyone was too busy devouring the delicious feast to no ce
him slinking about.

"What took you so long? You missed the Sor ng," hissed Hermione.

"Calm your ts," Harry replied without thinking, causing Hermione to

spu er incoherently.

"Never mind the Sor ng, mate," Ron told him in a despondent voice.
"You won't believe what happened. We have a new Po ons professor,
and Snape will be teaching DADA instead!"

Harry frowned and looked at the Head Table. There indeed was a new
person there, a rather rotund old wizard who was sampling every
available dessert with a look of pure bliss on his face.

"I'm sure Professor Snape knows a lot about the subject," Hermione said
diploma cally. "More importantly, Ronald, don't forget that we'll have
to guide the new students, and I don't mean just show them where the
Common Room is. Enrique in par cular might need some extra help
fi ng in. Professor McGonagall told me his parents moved in from Brazil
just a few weeks ago."

Harry raised his head from the plate. "Enrique, huh? Is it the kid with
the longish black hair?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Be right back." Harry stood up and walked over to where the Gryffindor
firs es were seated, a huge grin on his face. "Hey, Enrique. Gib moni pls,
am I right?"

The new kid appeared scared and confused. "W-what?"

"BR? BR?"

"Please, l-leave me alone." Enrique fran cally looked around for help,
but the other youngsters maneuvered as far away from him as they
could, so as not to provoke the apparently crazy sixth year.

"All right, Harry, that's enough." Hermione grabbed him by the collar of
his robes. "Stop scaring the first-year."

"Huehuehue!" Harry cackled madly as Hermione dragged him away.

If someone had told Harry that he would enjoy learning po ons some
day, he would have thought that person infested with Wrackspurts, but
that was exactly what was happening during their first class of the year.
The returning staff member, Horace Slughorn, turned out to be a much
be er teacher than Snape – not that this comparison alone was saying
much. Where the former professor stalked his classroom insul ng every
non-Slytherin whose po ons work was any less than perfect, Slughorn
offered advice and encouragement. Some Gryffindors were actually
startled when the Po ons Master pointed out their mistakes instead if
simply calling them hopeless dunderheads. Sure, the man was prone to
reminiscing about his former students who made it big in the wizarding
world, but everyone who didn't wear a green-and-silver e preferred
that over Snape's undisguised favori sm and acid tongue.

A er they were finished with their work and got their grades, Slughorn
decided to quiz them on their Po ons knowledge. Hermione bounced in
her seat eagerly as she sensed an easy way to earn some house points.
"Now then, who can tell me what I will get if I add crushed Luna Moth
wings and juniper berries to an infusion of parasol moss?" The jolly
wizard rubbed his hands and looked at the students eagerly.

Harry couldn't believe his ears; a er grinding his alchemy skill to 100,
he'd have recognized that recipe anywhere. "A healing po on, sir?"
Harry stammered out while raising his hand.

"Indeed, Mr. Po er, but what kind?"

"Umm..." He frowned and wondered whether 'regenera on' was a

proper term in this context. "The kind that speeds up the healing of
injuries?"

"Very good! Known as the Wound-closing Po on, this concoc on will

make any cuts and scrapes on the imbiber's body clot over and heal
within minutes. S ll, a trained Healer can do the same with his wand,
which is why this po on is only used when no other op ons are
available. Five points to Gryffindor, Mr. Po er. It seems you've inherited
your mother's talent for the art."

"Thank you, sir." Harry ducked his head to hide his grin. It looked like a
Muggleborn wizard with a wicked sense of humor was working for
Bethesda.

The long first day of school finally ended with nothing more exci ng
happening than Harry unexpectedly earning his house five points thanks
to his video game knowledge. Then he had a sa sfying dinner and went
back to the common room, where Ron invited him to play a game of
chess. Hermione was hovering nearby with her nose buried in a book as
usual, occasionally telling him to 'work on his pawn structure' or 'take
control of the center'. Harry didn't even know what her advice meant
half of the me, and, predictably, was losing badly.

It was frustra ng. He knew that Ron was the be er player by far, but the
bloke didn't have to be so smug about it. Harry would have loved to win
even once, ending his mate's 98-0 streak and hopefully bringing him
down a notch, but none of the strategies he had tried were good
enough.

Well, there was this one thing he could try, but it would make him look
like a fool if it didn't work, and possibly anger Ron on the off-chance that
it did.

"You might as well give up at this point, Harry." Ron grinned at him in a
self-sa sfied manner. "Let's start another match so I can rack up a
hundred victories faster."

That's it... Weasley was going down! Harry slammed his hands on the
table and started speaking, feeling more than a li le self-conscious.
"Listen up, men! We've suffered many casual es, but the ba le is not
yet lost. Our enemies are commanded by a soulless ginger who leads
with ruthlessness and brutality. What do they know about courage?
What do they know about honor?"

"Oi!" protested Ron.

Harry con nued his impassioned speech, gazing upon his rapt subjects.
"Hear me, valiant pawns, noble knights, devoted bishops! Hear me,
mighty rooks, graceful queen, shrewd king! Win this ba le, and you will
live a life of luxury, not wan ng for anything! Bards will sing of your
heroic deeds, and your glory will be known throughout the lands!"

"Can we have dirty magazines?" piped up one of the bishops. "It gets
awfully boring inside that case."

"Absolutely! Dirty magazines for everyone!" declared Harry immediately.

There was a silence for a few moments, then cheers from all Harry's
remaining pieces shook the board. Some Gryffindors even wandered
over to see what the commo on was, joining Hermione in watching the
game.
"This is stupid," scoffed Ron. "They don't actually have brains, you know.
G4 to F3."

Harry frowned at the pawn about to take his knight, and spoke quickly.
"Honorable knight, your tle was bestowed upon you by the queen
herself. Are you going to let a mere foot soldier defeat you? Stand your
ground, and crush the upstart pawn! Then, and only then will you be
allowed to rest your sword!"

Ron's pawn raised his pike, but the knight was faster. He decapitated his
foe with a de strike of his weapon, then bowed deeply to Harry and
walked off the board. The pawn felt about for his detached head, picked
it up, and followed suit.

"Hey! That's chea ng!" Ron shouted, incensed.

"All I did was speak to him. We can stop if you want to."

"No way." Ron grinned suddenly, completely changing his demeanor.

"This might actually give me a challenge. Pawn to C4."

"Brave soldier, the enemy is right in front of you. Break through and line
up with your comrades! Do that, and the king will grant you a tle and
land!"

The pawn Harry commanded so raised his spear and stabbed straight at
the opposing piece in front of him. Then it moved, advancing not one,
but two les forward, forming a line with his compatriots. Harry cheered,
and so did a few spectators, who apparently found the current game
between Harry and Ron more exci ng than the one-sided rout it
normally was.

"Now that's just unfair," commented Ron, fully focused on the game
field. "Let's see... knight to E5."

Harry surveyed the situa on; it was clear that the black pieces s ll held
an overwhelming advantage. Unless he was mistaken, Ron would use
the knight he had just moved to check Harry's king the next turn, and
Harry had no knights of his own le . Furthermore, all his pawns were
situated on the le side, leaving his right one exposed.

There was nothing else to do, but to try and break down the rules of the
game en rely.

"Soldiers, you have fought relessly, and I thank you for your service.
But before you can lay your weapons down, we need one last push.
Raise your shields, point your spears, and march towards the enemy
king!" He then turned to address his rooks and the remaining bishop.
"Support the infantry and don't let their sacrifice go to waste!"

For one tense moment, none of the pieces moved. Then the king turned
his ny head and spoke to Harry in a squeaky voice.

"Isn't this against the rules, General?"

"Do you want to win or not?"

The king turned back to his army. "You heard him, men! Charge!"

The pawns moved as one, forming a ny phalanx and marching forward.

They barely slowed down their charge when a knight and then a bishop
fell to their pikes. Rooks followed, while the sole bishop protected their
right flank.

"You can't do that!" spu ered Ron, staring at the chaos on the board
with wide eyes. "Bishop, take the pawn at C5... What the hell, he moved
past! Um, king to G8, castle..."

Harry's deadly pawn forma on slammed into Ron's defenders, making

short work of the more powerful pieces. He lost a few during the clash,
but it didn't ma er; the remaining white army surrounded the king, who
capitulated by raising his hands and removing his crown. And so, amid
cheers from his fellow housemates, Harry won his first chess match
against Ron.
"I don't know what the bloody hell that was, but it wasn't chess,"
grumbled Ron. "I would have won otherwise."

"Oh, I suppose," Harry said agreeably. "Board games were never my

forte." He repaired the damaged pieces with the Mending Charm and
swept them into the case, ignoring their excited cha ering.

Hermione stared at him in horror. "What about all those things you
promised them?"

Harry shrugged. "They're just chess pieces, Hermione."

"You manipulated them!"

He grinned. "That was pre y interes ng, wasn't it? I didn't think they
would listen to me like that."

"But you promised them riches, and tles, and, um, reading material,
and now you're just locking them away..."

"The pieces don't even work un l you remove them from the case, and
they don't remember anything about the previous games," Ron
explained, coming to his friend's defense. "Don't worry, they aren't really
intelligent; it's just some clever magic which temporarily borrows a bit of
your personality."

"Fascina ng," murmured Hermione, her latest crusade forgo en now

that she had this incredible magic to think about.

Meanwhile, Harry raised his chess board towards the people gathered
around their table. "Anyone else fancy a game?"

Whereas the first Po ons lesson was a pleasant surprise, the first DADA
one was anything but. A er giving an admi edly cap va ng speech
about the power of the Dark Arts, Snape immediately centered in on
Harry.
"Before we con nue, does our resident Defense expert have anything to
add?" the surly man asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Harry raised his head in surprise. He had go en used to being ignored in

Snape's classroom last year. "Er... no, I think you got it covered, sir. We
took a more hands-on approach in the DA, anyway. Just prac cing our
aim and shields and the like."

"Is that so? Front of the class, Po er. I believe the students will benefit
from a demonstra on."

Harry rolled his eyes at the blatant a empt to set him up for a fall, but
trudged up to the front of the classroom obediently and took out his
wand.

"Let's see if you can live up to your reputa on, Po er. Feel free to begin
at any me."

Taking Snape's advice to heart, Harry didn't bother with the tradi onal
bow, immediately waving his wand in the familiar pa ern of the
Stunning Spell instead.

"Stupefy!"

Snape deflected the jet of red light with a flick of his wand, not even
bothering to shield or dodge, and responded with a wordless S nging
Hex. Harry yelped as it hit his shoulder, and returned fire with a few
more spells of his own.

"Tarantallegra! Incarcerous!"

The Defense Professor sidestepped the Dancing Feet Charm and silently
banished the ropes back at Harry, who had to shove them away with his
le hand. Snape used this opportunity to pelt his student with more
S nging Hexes, inten onally using only a low-level spell to demonstrate
his contempt. Harry somehow managed to cast a Protego during the
onslaught, and glowered at the man so intent on publicly humilia ng
him. Snape sneered at him mockingly, but didn't meet his glare.

"S ll afraid to look me in the eye, professor?" Harry whispered quietly so

only Snape would hear. The man's eyes widened a frac on; it was only a
moment's distrac on, but that was all Harry needed to get his opponent
with a S nging Hex of his own. However, Snape wasn't the Defense
Professor for nothing: ignoring the angry welt on his forehead (Harry had
aimed for the nose, actually, but that was good enough), he quickly
ended the duel with a succession of silent Disarming Charms.

"You might think you're some sort of a prodigy at the Mind Arts, but
your Defense skills are abysmal," Snape told Harry quietly when the boy
walked over to pick up his wand. "Ten points from Gryffindor for that
pathe c display, Po er," he added in a louder voice for everyone to
hear. "You're nowhere near good enough to instruct first-years, never
mind your peers."

The next few Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons followed the same
scenario. Snape would either lecture or just make them read the
relevant chapter for a while, and then call Harry up front for a mock
duel. Harry could handle ge ng his ass kicked, as it was clear that he
was improving at a rapid pace, despite Snape's claims otherwise. Not
only he lasted longer each me, he even managed to land a few hexes of
his own every now and then. (He s ll fondly remembered the me he
managed to give Snape a Scumbag Hat.) Yes, he could deal with losing –
dueling with Sirius had shown him just how wide the skill gap between
an experienced adult and a Hogwarts student could be, and Snape was
possibly even be er than his godfather. It was the constant insults that
were ge ng to him. It looked like Snivellus took Harry's new, chilled-out
a tude as a personal challenge, and was coming up with more and
more inven ve ways to get under his skin.

The latest duel, if you could call it that, was no excep on. Snape made
snide comments throughout the fight whenever he could, and finally
disarmed Harry when he deemed him humiliated enough. The boy was
breathing heavily from the exer on and rage, while the rancorous man
started mocking his performance again.

"Truly, Po er, you astound me. In all my years, I haven't seen anyone so
inept that they would have trouble with a basic spell-chain in their sixth
year."

Harry grit his teeth and tried to slow his breathing. His heart was
pounding in his ears, making it hard to hear what Snape was saying –
not that he wanted to listen to that son of a bitch in the first place.

"Tell me, Po er, did you use your fame to get that 'O+' Defense OWL? Or
perhaps you bribed the examiner with the money your parents le you?
Your prac cal skills are clearly well below Acceptable."

Harry wasn't thinking clearly anymore, which was the only reason why
he did what he did next. He opened his mouth and shouted, pouring all
his bo led-up anger into his voice. "Fus Ro Dah!"

A look of shock momentarily registered on Snape's sallow face, before

he was blasted off his feet and into a wall. S ll, the impact wasn't strong
enough to break anything; the man stood up quickly and raised a
shaking hand to point his wand at Harry.

"Silencio!" he cast, actually speaking the incanta on out loud due to his
agita on. "Wandless magic, Po er? Showy, but essen ally useless.
That'll be fi y points from Gryffindor for a acking me a er the duel had
ended."

Harry was clutching at his throat, too preoccupied to pay any a en on

to what the professor was saying. "Hurts," he mouthed silently, then
coughed and wiped his lips. There was blood on his hand.

Everyone stared at Harry like he was some sort of a freak, un l Hermione

finally snapped out of it. "Professor, Harry needs to go to the hospital
wing," she said firmly.
Snape waved them out impa ently as he hobbled towards his desk. He
might have needed some Healer a en on himself, but he clearly was
too proud to show weakness in front of the students, especially a mixed
class of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

And so, the two were off. Harry's throat felt like it was on fire, and when
Hermione tried interroga ng him on what happened earlier, he just
stared at her incredulously and pointed at his neck. She smiled at him
sheepishly and apologized, but he could tell that curiosity was ea ng his
friend alive.

It didn't take long for the pair to reach Madam Pomfrey's realm, and it
took an even shorter me for the experienced witch to fully diagnose
Harry.

"Don't even think of trying to speak for the rest of the day, young man.
You did a real number on your larynx; the vocal cords are prac cally torn
apart, and there's damage all over your throat. How in the blazes did
you manage that?"

Harry shrugged eloquently. How did the Healer expect him to answer if
he wasn't allowed to speak? Besides, he couldn't have explained it
properly even if he was unhurt. Was it accidental magic triggered by
extreme emo on, sort of like when he blew up Aunt Marge, or did he
actually manage to shout? Whatever happened back there, he wasn't
going to try it again any me soon.

A er being propelled into a wall by Harry's unusual magic, Snape started

avoiding him again, much like last year. The next few lessons a er the
event became almost boring, and Harry started amusing himself by
making increasingly louder noises to see if that would get Snape to look
at him. The man eventually snapped, but not in the way Harry was
expec ng.

"Longbo om! Get up here. Let's see if you've managed to retain

anything in that stupid head of yours."
Neville walked up and stood in front of the surly professor with his head
held high. The young man shot up a few inches over the summer, and,
a er acing his Defense OWL, was looking more confident than ever.
Harry grinned when he saw Snape's juvenile a empts at in mida on
fail.

He wasn't smiling five minutes later, a er Snape had brutally wiped the
floor with Neville.

"You're slow, dull, and predictable," drawled Snape. "And your stance is
terrible. Blame Po er for thinking he was competent enough to instruct
anyone in Defense."

"Harry was a great teacher!" Neville protested hotly. "I've learned loads
more from him than you!"

"Then how is it that you've failed to land a single spell on me?" Snape
inquired smoothly.

Harry couldn't bear to watch any longer. That bastard was clearly going
to assign Neville a deten on for backtalk, all because of his ridiculous
grudge against Harry. Well, not on his watch.

"Good job, Snapey, you've managed to defeat a 16-year-old. You must

feel so proud."

Snape whirled on Harry, his previous vic m already forgo en.

"Deten on for a week, Po er!"

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked as menacingly as he

could.

Severus leaned over Harry's desk, actually mee ng his gaze with a crazed
glare of his own. "If you think you in midate me in the least, you are
sorely wrong, Po er," he whispered harshly. "I've mastered my fears and
scrubbed my mind of your Muggle filth."
"You should try mastering breath mints and scrubbing your hair," Harry
commented while leaning backwards and wrinkling his nose.

"A hundred points from Gryffindor for your disrespect!"

"Harry, stop!" Hermione whispered heatedly, apparently concerned

about their prospects of winning the house cup. "Why are you provoking
him?"

"Because I'm ge ng real red of his shit, Hermione," he replied off-

handedly, before turning his a en on back to the most hated Hogwarts
teacher. "Why are you so angry, professor? Well, aside from the obvious
fact that your ugly ass hasn't go en laid in years?"

"I'll have you in deten on every night for the rest of the year!" Snape
screamed, spi le flying out of his mouth with every syllable. Most of the
former DA members si ng at the front managed to shield themselves
before they got hit.

"Oh, did that hit a nerve? Is that why you want to see me every night?
I'm sorry, professor, but I don't swing that way. You might want to offer
Draco, though."

"Hey!" the blond yelped, and stared at his Head of the House with some
suspicion.

"Ten thousand points from Gryffindor! Grah!" Snape abandoned all

semblance of self-control and charged at Harry, his hands outstretched.

"Don't touch me, you filthy casual!" Harry nimbly dodged Snape's lunge,
making him crash into the desk. The wizard might be a damn good
duelist, but Harry was quite experienced at escaping angry men,
courtesy of Uncle Vernon. "Show's over folks, I'm ge ng out of here
before he starts throwing curses."
Harry paused in front of the door to Snape's office, feeling equal
measures of trepida on and excitement. He had complained about the
mistreatment to McGonagall, who brought the ma er to the
headmaster himself. The amount of deten ons was reduced to three
months worth, and he was assured no corporal punishment would be
involved.

None of that had anything to do with Harry's anxiousness, however – he

wasn't planning on doing any deten ons in the first place. No, he was
going to confront Snape tonight, and end this stupid feud one way or
another. He would offer the man a way out, but if Snape pushed him, he
was going to push back just as hard, and use his newly gained
exemp ons from the law if necessary. Ron was watching the Marauder's
Map with instruc ons to get all the DA members he could and bail Harry
out if he didn't return in half an hour, but he hoped it wouldn't be
needed.

He gathered his courage, knocked, and entered the dimly lit room. Snape
was si ng at his desk and glaring at him in silence.

"Good evening, sir," Harry greeted the man pleasantly.

"You are late, Po er. Begin by cleaning all the bathrooms on this floor
using that." Snape pointed at dirty cloth lying on the floor. "I specifically
requested the house elves to deliver the dir est rag they could find."

"Nice passive aggressiveness there, professor," Harry said, mildly

impressed. "I'm not doing any of that shit, though. I've come to make
you an offer you can't refuse."

"Po er, if you think you can just waltz into my office and..."

"Just shut up and listen for a minute," Harry interrupted, enjoying the
look of surprise on Snape's face. "I want you to spy for me. You can s ll
report to Dumbledore, but you should give all the relevant informa on
to me first."
Snape actually gaped at him, apparently incapable of holding his usual
mask when Harry was involved. "And why, pray tell, would I do that?"

"Because I'm the only one who can kill Voldemort," Harry said
confidently.

Snape actually laughed. "You are delusional if you think you stand a
chance against the Dark Lord as you are now, Po er. Stop was ng my
me with this foolishness and get to work."

"Ah, well, it was worth a try." Harry hadn't been expec ng much from
this approach to begin with. He turned around and went for the exit.

"Where do you think you're going?" Snape stood up from his desk and
waved his wand, causing the door to slam shut and lock itself, blocking
Harry's only escape route.

"You shouldn't have done that," the younger wizard mu ered, shivering
slightly.

"Po er, you will pick that mop up and head to the bathrooms, or I will
personally make you clean the toilets with your tongue!"

"Where is Voldemort?" Harry shouted back with a seemingly random

ques on.

"What are you going on about, idiot boy?"

"Just ge ng the formali es out of the way," Harry replied cheerfully.

"Crucio!"

Snape was too shocked to protect himself; he fell on the floor, screaming
with pain and astonishment. Harry tried to keep the spell up, but he
really didn't know what to do except keep his wand trained on his
target. To Harry's mild disappointment, his greasy experimental subject
got up a few seconds later.
"And that's why you will never be the Dark Lord's equal." Snape spoke in
an oddly calm voice, only his twisted expression betraying his emo ons.
"You have to mean it, you have to want to cause pain, or else the spell
will fail like yours did just now."

"Ah, well. I was so happy about ge ng a bit of revenge on you, I'm

surprised it worked at all."

"That was the last lesson you are ever going to receive from me, Po er,"
Snape con nued with grim sa sfac on, walking to his fireplace on
unsteady legs. "I will see you rot in Azkaban for this."

"You are certainly welcome to try," Harry said indifferently, and unlocked
the door with a quick Alohomora.

"I am very disappointed, Harry. I never thought you had it in you to

a ack a staff member using an Unforgivable. Why, if I didn't know be er,
I would think it was Voldemort himself who possessed you to do such a
thing, but Professor Snape assures me you acted on your own accord."

Harry failed to suppress a yawn. In his defense, ge ng lectured on

morals and the evils of dark magic for two hours straight would do that
to anyone, save perhaps Percy Weasley.

"Look at him, headmaster," the third occupant of the room spoke

hatefully. "Po er has no respect for anything, whether it's your
authority or the laws of our society. The only way we can set him
straight is to let him experience the consequences of his ac on for once.
Let me make that report, Albus."

"Now, now, Severus, let's not be hasty. I am sure it was merely an

emo onal outburst, not a premeditated assault. You have to admit that
you have been hard on the boy."

"You mean I don't coddle him like our colleagues do! No, I'm repor ng
Po er to the DMLE, and that's final."
"Perhaps if Harry were to apologize..." Dumbledore proposed carefully.

Snape made a show of considering the sugges on. "If Po er makes a

public apology, obeys my instruc ons in class, and serves all three
months of deten on, I'll postpone my decision un l then."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore beamed at the sour man. "Now, Harry, I hope

you can appreciate how forgiving Professor Snape is being right now.
Please do as he says so we can put this unpleasant ma er behind us."

Harry snorted at the supposedly magnanimous offer. "I won't serve any
deten ons with Snape. The man has been trea ng me unfairly since the
first year, and I've had enough. As for the Unforgivable, it has nothing to
do with the school, and everything to do with his other job, so I
shouldn't be punished for that."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at that cryp c statement, but ignored

it in lieu of the more pressing ma er. "Are you certain this is what you
want, Harry? If Severus makes that report, you will be judged not by a
teacher who has your best interests at heart, but by cold-hearted
bureaucrats who follow the law to the le er."

"That sounds just fine and dandy to me," Harry said defiantly.

"Then I have no choice but to allow Severus to contact the authori es,"
Dumbledore said regre ully, slumping back in his chair. "As you are a
minor, you are unlikely to be given the harshest punishment, but your
further educa on is going to be at risk. Unless, of course, you
reconsider... It is s ll not too late, my boy."

Harry wasn't sure whether Dumbledore was bluffing, but he supposed

he was going to find out one way or another. "Nope," he said brightly.
"Snape should have checked himself before he wrecked himself."

"I will wreck you, Po er," Snape promised darkly as he reached for the
Floo powder.
20. Death Eaters at Hogwarts

Snape had apparently contacted the Aurors about Harry's use of the
Cruciatus Curse, as there was no other way to explain the sudden
appearance of a very disheveled and very pissed-off Minister for Magic
at Hogwarts. The man intercepted Harry when he was heading to the
Great Hall for dinner, and prac cally dragged him to some unused
classroom, where he cast the customary privacy charms.

"What were you thinking, Po er?" the poli cian demanded angrily. "You
can't torture a teacher just because you want to avoid serving
deten on! Snape used the regular channels, so the Aurors had to file a
case on you. Do you have any idea what I had to do to sweep all that
under the rug?"

The man looked like he deeply regre ed signing the contract, and Harry
was happier than ever about pu ng all that effort into making it
ironclad. "For what's it worth, Minister, I'm sorry for the trouble," he
said, not en rely insincerely. "However, you are misunderstanding
something. I only did it because Snape is a Death Eater, and he wouldn't
tell me where Ol' Voldie was hiding out. I wouldn't ever abuse my
authority to get revenge on a man who has been bullying for the past six
years."

The corners of Scrimgeour's lips actually twitched upwards a li le. "Is

that so?" he asked skep cally. "Yet our records indicate that he defected
to our side a er the last war, even going as far as tes fying against some
of his former comrades."

"I have it on good authority that he is s ll an ac ve Death Eater, sir. He's

repor ng directly to Dumbledore, and no one but the headmaster
himself knows how loyal he is."

"Dumbledore's personal spy?" the Minister asked shrewdly. "Do you

think he is a threat to the school?"
Harry nodded grimly. "Just imagine the damage he could do if he was
compromised. He has access to every student here, including me, not to
men on Dumbledore himself."

"I am going to have a talk with Dumbledore," Scrimgeour promised

darkly.

"Make sure to bring backup," Harry suggested seriously, remembering

Fudge's failed a empt to subdue the mighty old wizard. "And don't take
Kingsley."

The effects of Harry's li le talk with the head of the wizarding

government became clear a few days later, when a young-looking Auror
showed up to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. The official version
was that the Ministry wanted a trained officer to teach the students to
defend themselves, but there were some rumors floa ng around that
Snape was arrested and sent to Azkaban for having an illicit affair with
an underage boy. Harry may or may not have had something to do with
those.

Speaking of Dumbledore, the wise old man eventually managed to suss

out the truth about Harry's role in the events. What followed was a long
and troublesome heart-to-heart talk between the two wizards who used
completely different approaches to fight a common enemy. Harry didn't
reveal all of his cards, of course, but they were able to come to an
understanding all the same. The headmaster had even apologized for
subjec ng Harry to Snape's harassment for so many years, while Harry
assured him he understood why the former Death Eater had to have a
place at the school. Well, it got quite cheesy towards the end, and Harry
preferred not to dwell on it.

That mee ng, however, led to Dumbledore revealing some crucial facts
about Voldemort's miraculous resurrec on, which made Harry realize
just how dangerous an enemy they were facing.
"So, let me get this straight. These 'horcruxes', they're sort of like a lich's
phylactery in that they make you immortal, except that you don't
become a ro ng undead in the process?"

"That seems to be the case, yes," Dumbledore confirmed carefully.

"Hmm..." Harry pondered who he would kill to create a horcrux. Snape

was a prime target; the man was s ll in the castle, having lost his
teaching posi on but working as a resident po on-maker instead.
Dumbledore's influence was as great as ever, and Scrimgeour hadn't
been able to remove the headmaster's protege from Hogwarts or pump
him for informa on.

"It is the darkest and most vile of magics," Dumbledore warned, alarmed
by the way Harry's eyes shone with greed.

"Uh huh." With Harry's Invisibility Cloak, it wouldn't be hard to ambush

his vic m. The only snag was finding out about the actual ceremony
needed to create the soul anchor.

"My research indicates that spli ng one's soul can cause a change in
personality, memory loss, insanity, impotence..." the headmaster ra led
off a list of nega ve side effects in a fran c effort to dissuade Harry from
becoming an immortal overlord.

That finally had the effect of snapping Harry out of his daydream. "What
the hell? Who would want to live forever if you can't have sex? Uh, I
mean... don't worry, sir. I would never dabble in the Dark Arts, and,
besides, murder is evil." Well, there was always the Philosopher's Stone
to pursue.

Dumbledore peered at him suspiciously. "I never doubted you, my boy.

Do you understand now why all of these objects have to be destroyed
before you face Voldemort?"

"I'm not sure I agree with you there, sir," Harry said though ully. "That
sort of a quest with no markers or minimap could take decades." For all
they knew, one of the horcruxes was an Unbreakable rock at the bo om
of the Mariana Trench, well out of reach of Muggles or wizards. "We
can't just let Voldemort do as he pleases while we take a year-long
camping trip."

"Yet it is the only way to make sure he is vanquished forever,"

Dumbledore countered.

"If we destroy his body, he's going to be mostly harmless for a few years
un l some idiot chops off his arm to bring him back again," Harry
pointed out. "If we can find a horcrux or two, that's great, but I think we
should focus our efforts on preven ng the Pale Lord from taking over
Britain."

Harry had been suspec ng that Malfoy had taken the Dark Mark for a
while now, and stuck with his theory despite Ron and Hermione's
skep cism. He had taken to carrying the Marauder's Map at all mes,
which allowed him to finally catch the poten al Death Eater before he
disappeared into the Room of Requirement. As Harry had his favorite
cloak with him, it was simply a ma er of cas ng a wordless Trip Jinx
from under the cover of invisibility, and slipping inside while his target
was picking himself off the floor. Malfoy was such a muppet he didn't
even realize he'd been cursed.

Harry followed his quarry deeper into a previously unseen version of the
Room, marveling at the sights around him. It appeared as if every
discarded piece of furniture at Hogwarts had found its way here
somehow, with desks piled on top of each other like in some artsy Sha
anime.

He squeezed through a narrow opening between a broken grandfather

clock and a freestanding mirror, then startled and doubled back. He
thought he saw his reflec on as he passed by, but that shouldn't have
been possible.
The mirror's surface was surprisingly clear, and the gilded frame had an
inscrip on at the top. Harry gasped as he recognized the ancient ar fact
from his first year. "It can't be," he murmured. "What's that doing here?"

He turned towards where he had seen Draco last, but the Slytherin was
already out of his sight. Harry knew he had to search for him
immediately, but the tempta on proved too much. He stepped in front
of the Mirror of Erised and stared, and the magical looking glass showed
him his heart's desire.

Harry was the Emperor of the Universe, slumped back in a massive plush
throne and surrounded by his harem. A gorgeous Veela was feeding him
strawberries, while a skimpily-clad elven princess massaged his shoulders.
A cute catgirl was res ng her head on Harry's lap and smiling blissfully as
he stroked her ears. Many other young women were eagerly wai ng for
their turn to serve their master, some of them resembling Harry's
classmates far too much for it to be a coincidence.

"Whoa," Harry whispered so ly. "Now I understand how men could

waste away in front of this thing."

He gave the marvelous scene one last longing look, then averted his eyes
with supreme effort and headed deeper into the room.

"Accio invisibility cloak!"

Harry yelped as the magical garment was ripped off him and sailed
towards Malfoy. He raised his wand immediately, but the other boy
wasn't a acking him yet.

"How did you know I was here?" Harry asked indignantly.

"Did you think I was stupid, Po er? I know what a Trip Jinx feels like."
Malfoy grinned smugly. "I lured you in here so I could defeat you and
deliver you to the Dark Lord."
"So you are a Death Eater." Harry mulled it over for a second. "That's a
pre y shi y plan, though. There's no way you would be able to take me
in a duel."

Draco's triumphant face darkened. "We'll see, Po er. Stupefy!"

Harry effortlessly side-stepped Malfoy's clearly telegraphed Stunning

Spell and shot back a bludgeoner, which hit the blond squarely in the
chest. Harry could have ended the skirmish right there, but decided to
mess with the Slytherin boy first. A er what Snape had put him through,
he thought he deserved to take some of that anger out on the former
professor's favorite student.

"What's the ma er, Malfoy? Is that all your pureblood abili es are
worth?" Harry taunted while his opponent was too busy trying to
breathe.

Draco raised his head and glared at him hatefully. "I'll get you for this,
Po er!"

The next two spells splashed harmlessly on Harry's Protego, while his
own annoying li le hexes all struck true. It was exhilara ng to dominate
an opponent in a contest of skill like that, and Harry could see how
Snape derived pleasure from it. Emboldened by his success, he canceled
the shield altogether, and started dodging the oncoming spells. Malfoy's
next three a acks failed to hit him, and Harry laughed out loud.

"I could dance all day, I could dance all day! Try and hit me!"

"Confringo! Expelliarmus!" Draco roared, having completely lost his

temper.

Harry dodged the more dangerous Blas ng Curse immediately, but that
just brought him straight into the path of the scarlet jet of light. He felt
his wand escape his grip and watched dumbly as it flew into Draco's
outstretched hand.
"...Shit. That wasn't supposed to happen."

"Not so tough now, are you, Po er?" Malfoy gloated, savoring the I-dun-
goofed look on his arch-rival's face. "Incarcerous! Can't have you
a acking me like some uncouth Muggle."

Harry bit his lip and cursed mentally at how stupid he had been. The
previous high le him completely, and all he was le with now was a
burning sense of shame and more than a li le fear. Perhaps it was the
earlier vision from the mirror which had made him cocky enough to
believe he could dodge a acks at that range like Neo from the Matrix.

He tested the ropes which ed his hands to his torso, and found them
to be too ght to even budge. His legs were s ll free, but what good was
that? There was always the shout, even if it did have the downside of
ripping his throat apart, but he wasn't even sure it would work a second
me...

"Silencio!" Draco u ered, as if reading Harry's mind. He approached the

downed figure of his enemy, a malevolent glint in his eye. "Professor
Snape was right, you are an idiot. The Dark Lord is going to reward me
greatly for bringing you to Him."

Well, there went that plan. Harry's brain entered overdrive mode. What
other op ons did he have? He could try to kick Draco's legs from under
him, but then what? He was a wizard, not a ninja.

And then it clicked. Harry s ll had his most powerful skill, the Mind Arts.
While he was geared more towards the defensive aspect of Occlumency,
his abili es at Legilimency were nothing to scoff at, either. Rumor had it,
the most powerful Legilimens could plant sugges ons in the minds of
their vic ms, and even possess their bodies for a brief period of me. It
wasn't something Harry had ever considered, but he had no other choice
but try.

Harry looked up and met the eyes of the approaching enemy. "I will
show you true power," he mouthed silently.
"Want to beg for mercy, Po er?" Draco asked amusedly. He hesitated for
a moment, then cast a Finite on Harry's throat. "Let's hear your last
words."

"The forces of the universe bend to me."

The blond snorted. "What are you babbling on about?"

"Assuming direct control," Harry enunciated with a demented grin, and,

with those words, plunged into Draco's mind.

"What are you..." Draco's eyes suddenly became glassy and rolled back
in his head, and he collapsed on the floor. Moments later, Harry's
unconscious body followed suit.

"This is so freaky," Harry commented as he got up and flexed Draco's

fingers. "Wow, check out my voice. My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have
a ny penis."

Something seemed a bit off, and Harry nearly stumbled while a emp ng
to pick up the two wands off the ground. He wondered if this sensa on
of wrongness was what Tonks had to deal with while shapeshi ed, and
his respect for the metamorph grew.

He rolled up his le sleeve and stared at the ugly snake ta oo. To be fair,
it was s ll be er-designed than some of the stupid crap Muggles inked
on their skin, but not by much.

"You're mine now, Draco, you stupid shit," he whispered, feeling rather
odd wearing the body of Voldemort's follower. "You were too eager to
follow your father's example."

Harry closed his eyes and hummed as he considered his next step. He
had to somehow immobilize the body he was currently in, and obtain
eye contact with his own unconscious one in order to return. As far as
he knew, it was impossible to cast Petrificus on himself, and, despite all
the bondage porn he'd watched, he had no idea how to e himself up
properly. He wondered if he could just punch himself in the face un l he
almost blacked out – preferably in front of a mirror, as seeing Draco's
smug face always made him want to bury his fist in it – but that seemed
like a stupid idea all around.

A sudden twinge in his le forearm brought Harry out of his reverie. He

blinked, turned around, and froze at the unexpected sight. He... his...

Harry's real body was standing up by itself, its eyes glowing red.

"Mother of god," Harry whimpered. "It's a good thing I'm inside Malfoy's
body, because I think I just shat my pants."

The thing straightened out and strained against the ropes, then turned
its burning gaze on Harry.

"Fancy yourself a master of Legilimency, Po er? I will make you pay for
the way you humiliated me!"

"P-petrificus Totalus!" Harry somehow managed to bind his apparently

possessed body despite his stu er. Man, Draco's voice sounded really
whiny when he was afraid. "What the hell do I do now?"

Harry paced in front of the bound form, Voldemort observing him with
those unmoving red eyes. A building headache indicated he had
outstayed his welcome in Draco's body, but if he went back into his own,
he would have to somehow eject the most powerful wizard of the
century from his head.

Seeing no other choice, Harry first posi oned his original body in a way
that would allow him to look into its eyes, then squa ed on the floor
and started conjuring some chains and a aching them to his limbs as
well as the furniture nearby. They wouldn't hold Draco for long, but the
ferret would have to be careful or he'd get buried under an avalanche of
old desks. Hopefully that would give him the me to cast the Dark Lord
out.
Harry didn't dawdle, for the headache was seriously impairing his ability
to think at this point. "Releasing control of this form," he spoke clearly
while staring into Harrymort's red eyes, and, with that, he was home.

Pain. Overwhelming pain assaulted Harry, incomparable to the migraine

he had felt earlier. He couldn't see, hear, or even smell, but he was
aware of the foreign presence which had completely taken over his body.
Harry rummaged for a suitable memory, his thought processes sluggish
as he had to wrestle the Dark Lord for control every step of the way.
Latching onto the first an -Legilimens memory he could recall, he
started the familiar process of visualiza on. Weakened as he was, he
couldn't perform the technique very well, but he was s ll able to build
up an image and push it towards his foe.

The presence in his head spoke, sounding almost amused. "Did you
really think that would unse le me? You only have your feeble
imagina on to rely on, while I have... prac cal experience."

Images of torture, blood, and gore flooded Harry's mind. He would

probably have puked, had he actually been in control of his body at that
point. Of course... he should have known. Voldemort wasn't a Dark Lord
for nothing: he and his followers regularly killed Muggles and
Muggleborns for sport. But if shocking imagery wasn't going to work,
what memory would be powerful enough to defeat a sick fuck like that?

"The power he knows not," Harry thought to himself. "I have to use
something that Voldemort couldn't even comprehend." But what?

As Harry's consciousness was fading, he used all his remaining power to

bring a par cularly annoying and senseless memory to life. Suddenly, a
cat with a pop-tart body was flying through Harry's darkened mindscape,
a cheerful rainbow trailing behind it.

"What is that thing?" Voldemort demanded.

Nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan...

"What are you trying to do, Po er?" Harry felt Voldemort trying to crush
the cat, but he focused on keeping it going with everything he had.

...nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan...

"Cease this infernal racket immediately!" Voldemort was clearly

weakening, and Harry felt himself ge ng his sight and hearing back.

...nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan nyan...

"Guh... I will be back for you, Po er!"

Harry opened his green eyes and laughed redly. He was feeling
completely drained, but there was no me to rest; he had a prisoner to
interrogate.

Predictably, Draco had refused to tell him what he had been doing in the
Room of Requirement. Harry was too red to a empt Legilimency, so he
decided that a li le mental torture was in order. He even told the boy as
much, hoping it would so en him up.

"I can withstand any spells you throw at me, Po er," Malfoy boasted.

"Who said anything about magic? No, I have something far worse in
store for you."

Harry quickly ed Draco to a chair, Silenced him, and applied a par al

Petrificus so he wouldn't be able to close his eyes. He then threw the
invisibility cloak over the seated figure and started moving it outside
using Locomotor, which, thankfully, didn't require that much effort to
maintain. Harry was able to transport his cap ve three floors down and
arrive at 'his' room without a rac ng any unwanted a en on. There, he
cancelled the Locomo on and Silencing charms, and set his baggage
down in front of the entrance.
"Tentacle rape," Harry spoke the password, causing the doors to swing
open on their own accord. He pushed the invisible detainee inside and
closed the door behind them.

The otherwise unremarkable storage room had dimly-glowing red runes

painted all over the walls, ceiling, and even the floor, giving it a sinister
appearance of a dark ritual chamber. Of course, the only reason the
runes were illuminated (or drawn in the color of blood, for that ma er)
was because Harry had used this awesome glowing red paint – but he
had no inten on of sharing that dbit with his vic m.

"What is this place, Po er?" Draco's disembodied voice spoke, sounding

quite fearful.

"This is where I am going to make you experience unimaginable horrors

un l you are ready to tell me what I want," Harry said ominously,
uncloaking Draco and dragging his chair towards the desk in the middle
of the room. There lied one of his greatest treasures, a top-of-the-line
laptop connected to several external HDDs and a solar charger. "You are
going to beg me for mercy before the hour is up."

"W-what are you going to do?"

It took Harry a moment to answer, as he was working on se ng

everything up. "I'm going to make you watch some of the nas est anime
known to man... Oh, right, you're a pureblood ignoramus. Me show you
moving picture, your brain go ouch."

"I know Muggles show moving pictures in their seenemas!" Malfoy

protested, making Harry turn to him in shock. "How is that torture?"

Harry chuckled wickedly. "Oh, you will understand a er I make you watch
Blue Gender and Super Milk-Chan at the same me." He fiddled with the
laptop, se ng up the playlist and making sure the screen was
posi oned just right for Draco to see. "Now, I really have to go to the
hospital wing and get something for my headache. Then I'll head to the
kitchens and grab a bite to eat. I might check in on you a erwards.
Anyway, try not to go insane before I get back."

Harry pressed the 'Play' bu on and le the room as it was suddenly

filled with a cacophony of sound.

The moment Harry stepped back into the room, Draco folded like a
deuce before a royal flush.

"Po er! You're finally here... Please, make it stop!"

"You are going to talk, then?"

"I'll tell you everything, just hurry!"

Harry turned his a en on to the screen where a rather lewd scene was
unfolding. "Ah, Boku no Pico. I guess you're not gay, a er all."

"Oh, Merlin, not the dog toy," Draco moaned, unable to move his eyes
away from the screen.

Harry walked up to the laptop and turned the player off before their
minds could be scarred forever. He then canceled the Petrificus on the
whimpering blond's eyes, s ll leaving him ed to the chair. "Well then,
let's hear it."

Draco was completely broken. In short order, he told Harry all about his
plan to use the Vanishing Cabinet to let a bunch of Death Eaters into
Hogwarts, where they would kill Dumbledore and capture Harry, whom
Voldemort wanted delivered to him alive.

Harry's expression hardened as the Slytherin went on. "You were going
to let mass murderers into a school full of children?"

"I had to," Malfoy said in a resigned voice. "The Dark Lord has my family.
I wouldn't even have taken His mark if I had a choice."
Harry feigned surprise. "Is that why you did it? I thought you were just
compensa ng for a certain inadequacy."

"What are you talking about, Po er?" Draco asked redly.

"It's just that, back when I was in your body, I couldn't help but no ce
that your size was very limited."

"Hey, that's not true!" Malfoy protested, coloring slightly.

Harry smirked. "Whatever. Let's go for a walk. Well, I'll be walking, and
you'll be staying in that chair for a while longer."

Draco groaned. "What now?"

"You didn't think I was going to just let you go, did you?"

Ten minutes later found Harry and his cap ve back in the Room of
Requirement, except that this me he made it assume the form of Fred
and George's laboratory from last year. Joining them was Harry's
godfather, whom he had called soon a er leaving Malfoy to watch a long
playlist of anime gems like 'Mars of Destruc on'. Sirius had absolute
trust in his godson at this point, and felt immensely grateful to him for
securing his freedom. The man didn't think twice about sneaking into
the castle at Harry's request.

"So, that's the situa on, Sirius," Harry finished explaining. "Do you know
anything about Vanishing Cabinets? I was thinking we could repair it
ourselves, have the junior Death Eater here send the signal, and then
blow those bastards up."

"I think I have book on those back at my place," Sirius said though ully.
"Shouldn't be a problem."

"Perfect. Then there's only one thing le to take care of." Harry turned
his a en on to the blond Slytherin who had been listening to their
conversa on carefully. "I'm going to ask you to make an Unbreakable
Vow to follow my orders, Malfoy. I understand this is not a pleasant
prospect, but you sealed your fate when you took that mark. I simply
cannot let you con nue to plot against us. Don't worry, though, I'll
release you when the war is over."

"Don't be ridiculous, Po er," Draco scoffed. "I'd rather jump off a cliff

than become your slave."

"I wasn't giving you a choice, Malfoy." Harry leaned in and spoke quietly,
staring into Draco's wide eyes. "If you don't make that vow, I am going to
put you under Imperius and send you through the cabinet with a bomb
strapped to your chest. Hell, I'll even make you say 'Harry Po er sends
his regards' before blowing you and your Death Eater buddies to bits."

"Hey, Harry, I know this your show and all, but Malfoy is just a kid..."

"Shut it, Padfoot," Harry said harshly, his eyes s ll boring into Draco's.
"Don't pussy out on me now."

Draco paled. "I don't believe it... You are the bomber?"

"That's right, li le dragon." Harry gave the Slytherin a predatory grin. "I
renovated your house last year, I got MacNair, and I s ll have plenty of
bombs to use. Death Eater lives mean nothing to me."

Malfoy's shoulders slumped. "I'll take the vow," he said quietly.

Harry freed the teenager's hands and clasped his right wrist. Sirius was
at their side at once, performing the role of the Bonder.

"Will you, Draco Malfoy, obey Harry Po er's every order un l he chooses
to release you from your vow?"

"I-I will," Draco spoke only a er a moment's hesita on. He watched on

despondently as a searing filament of fire escaped Sirius' wand and
bound his and Harry's hands with the power of the oath.
Harry let out a breath. "Brilliant. Now, listen to your orders, Draco. You
will not reveal what transpired today to anyone else. You will not leave
Hogwarts. You will pretend to be working on fixing the Cabinet, but you
are not allowed to contact any Death Eaters without my permission.
Should Death Eaters contact you instead, you are going to no fy me as
soon as possible." Harry paused for a few moments, then grinned as he
came up with another idea. "Finally, you will not inten onally injure a
human being, or allow one to come to harm through inac on.
Incidentally, servants of Voldemort are not considered human. Do you
understand?"

Malfoy gaped at him.

"Answer me."

"Yes." Draco grit his teeth painfully as the vow forced him to respond.

"Can we make him do something embarrassing now, Harry?" Sirius asked

hopefully.

Harry snorted. "I don't get you, Sirius. You were such a moralfag earlier,
and now you want to humiliate him."

"There's a big difference between humilia on and suicide bombing,

Harry," his godfather pointed out. "I think your moral compass is
broken."

Seven Killed in Explosion at Borgin and Burkes

A powerful explosion shook the Knockturn Alley yesterday at around 8 PM.

The blast tore apart the Borgin and Burkes shop, instantly killing the seven
customers inside. The owners of the magical knick-knack store were
mysteriously absent, and were later located in a nearby tavern and
apprehended for ques oning.
Extensive damage to the bodies has made it difficult to iden fy the
vic ms, but we already know that Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback
(see pg. 8, "Fenrir's Fall") are among those who perished in the explosion.
Furthermore, our sources in the Ministry claim that the blast was caused
by the same Muggle device – a bomb – as was used in the a acks against
Malfoy, Avery, and Macnair homes last year.

A Ministry Auror who wished to remain anonymous speculated that this

mysterious terrorist is actually a vigilante who has been figh ng the
Death Eaters before the rest of us were even aware of the looming threat.
While certainly outlandish, this theory is lent credence by the startling
postmortem discovery of the Dark Mark on Walden Macnair's arm last
June. Neither Lucius Malfoy nor Thomas Avery were available for
comment at this me.

Harry put the paper down with a grin. "I love it when a plan comes
together."
21. The Showdown

Whatever else could be said about Rufus Scrimgeour, he wasn't an

incompetent fop like Fudge. A er the man was elected permanently, he
made full use of his war me powers, commencing raids against known
Death Eater hideouts and removing corrupt officials from the
government. The problem now wasn't Ministry's inac vity, but rather
their inability to deal with the hit-and-run tac cs of the Death Eaters.
They would Apparate in, torch the houses of their loudest opposers,
and o en leave before the Aurors even arrived. Muggles were also a
popular target, and, unlike wizards, they couldn't escape via portkey or
floo. Thus, where wizards usually only lost their homes, Muggles lost
their lives – but, of course, the government didn't seem too concerned
about that.

The ac ve Aurors s ll outnumbered Voldemort's minions several mes,

but the Dark Lord also employed droves of rabid werewolves, vampires,
and giants. The significantly increased law enforcement force was being
overworked by reac ng to dark creature a acks all over the country,
while being unable to strike at the real enemy. A few clever ambushes
had culled the Death Eater ranks somewhat, and Harry's latest success
had dealt an even larger blow, but that just made the rest of the
terrorists more careful, and their leader more unpredictable. Most of
the Inner Circle, including those who had escaped from Azkaban, were
s ll at large, and Voldemort didn't seem inclined to risk them in regular
raids.

All in all, while the Ministry wasn't likely to fall any me soon, there was
no end to the war in sight. It looked as if Voldemort would keep growing
stronger, and the magical community more terrified and desperate, un l
all the Dark Lord had to do was march into the Ministry and demand the
Wizengamot to hand over the reigns of the country.

Worst of all – to Harry, at least – was the knowledge of the prophecy

leaking to the public. He could only blame himself, Harry supposed; he
should have known revealing that informa on to the Minister and a
bunch of Unspeakables was a risky course of ac on. Now there were
calls for him to 'take care of the problem' on the papers, as if killing
Voldemort was something a 16-year-old wizard could do by taking an
a ernoon off.

All of this meant that Harry spent every free moment thinking of ways to
defeat Voldemort. He sought input from his friends, Sirius, and
Dumbledore, who s ll insisted that the horcruxes had to be taken care
of first and had been showing him memories of Tom Riddle's past. Harry
had heard that knowing his enemy was important, so he didn't object
even though he didn't see any immediate benefit.

The first promising piece of informa on came from an unexpected

source. Watching anime had given him the idea that the Japanese knew
all sorts of ni y sealing magics, and he looked into it on a whim. As it
turned out, the Land of the Rising Sun did have a few ancient rituals for
sealing evil en es that were s ll known today. The fact was unearthed
by none other but Hermione, whom Harry had turned to for help
whenever copious amounts of research were required. While the
ceremonies she found out about weren't exactly targeted at humans, he
figured Voldemort was monstrous enough at this point for them to be
effec ve.

Harry's working plan was to lure the Dark Lord out and incapacitate him
somehow, or at least keep him in one place long enough for the ritual to
work. The easiest way to do that was to offer Voldemort something he
wanted very much – namely, Harry himself. He was certain that the
psycho c megalomaniac wouldn't be able to resist a formal challenge to
a wizard's duel, although he wasn't at all sure he could him off long
enough. The plan was full of holes, some aspects of it were completely
outside Harry's control, and it was so dangerous that most would have
called him mad for even considering a scheme like that. S ll, with
constant pressure from the Ministry and the wizarding world in general,
he had to come up with something, and soon.
"Don't even think about it!"

"Are you mental, boy?"

"Why, this has to be the most convoluted way to kill yourself I've ever
heard..."

"Balls of steel!"

Those were just some of the reac ons from the Order of the Phoenix
a er Harry had presented the new and improved plan to them.
(Incidentally, that last remark was from Fred and George, the only
posi ve one out of them all.) He realized that his idea was far from
perfect, but it was s ll annoying to see it bashed so. Feeling rather
miffed, Harry told the members of the Order that they were too used to
taking a passive role in the war, and didn't dare to think big. Some harsh
words were exchanged between him and Snape a erwards. In the end,
nothing came of it, so Harry packed up the helpful diagrams he had
drawn for his presenta on, and went to Scrimgeour instead.

It took some me to convince the Minister that making such a bold and
borderline insane move was their best bet, but it all worked out in the
end. Scrimgeour openly told Harry that he would be planning for the
worst (namely, Harry's death) and relying on sheer numbers to
overwhelm the Death Eater forces. That was almost reassuring to the
boy, although he had no inten on of going down without a hell of a
fight. The Bri sh Minister also took care of hiring an experienced group
of Japanese magicians, which Harry had affec onately dubbed the
'sealing squad'. To his great disappointment, it did not contain any cute
girls, but he'd take grumpy old men, too, if it meant ge ng rid of Riddle.

Harry's plan was equal parts brilliant and insane – well, mostly insane, if
he listened to his detractors. He wanted to sign a magically-binding four-
way contract between himself, Voldemort, Scrimgeour, and Dumbledore,
se ng up a formal duel with the Dark Lord. Any interference from the
other two signees would result in them being stripped of their magic;
same would happen to Harry or Voldemort if they failed to show up for
the fight. Each of the four would be bringing their own minions (Harry's
being the students from the DA – volunteers only, of course), who would
not be bound by the contract personally, just indirectly through their
superiors.

The arrangement, as shown in Harry's crudely-drawn diagrams, was for

Harry to fight with his comrades behind his back, and Voldemort
standing in front of his in order to minimize the risks of interference. His
hope was that the Death Eaters wouldn't want to start a ba le they
would most likely lose, being outnumbered as they were, and that the
Aurors would refrain from a acking to avoid extreme casual es. The
Dark Lord's men could s ll decide to throw a salvo of Killing Curses at
Harry on their own accord (thus breaking the agreement and allowing
the other side to fight back), but if Harry had learned anything about
Tom Riddle, it was that his pride would allow him nothing but a proper
1v1 duel. He had faith in Voldemort's ability to keep his lackeys under
control, and same was true for Scrimgeour as well. The peace-loving
Order and the inexperienced DA crew weren't an issue in the first place.
Of course, if Harry was killed, the situa on was likely to devolve into a
massacre, but it wouldn't ma er much to him anymore, being dead and
all.

Harry himself was planning to exploit an obvious loophole which

allowed the par cipants to get outside help. As the 'sealing squad' did
not belong to any of the four fac ons, they could do their thing without
breaking the contract, hidden safely under the best invisibility cloaks the
Order and the Ministry could scrounge up. By the me the effects of
their ritual became apparent, it would be too late: the Death Eaters
would be demoralized by their leader's demise, and easily crushed... or
so Harry hoped. Then Dumbledore could search for horcruxes at his
leisure, while Harry would enjoy his school life without anyone trying to
do him in for once. Okay, that was unlikely, but one can dream, right?

Ge ng Dumbledore to sign was the hardest part, but he finally

accomplished the feat a er weeks of reasoning, convincing, and even
good old blackmailing. They sent an owl to Lucius Malfoy on May 1st,
and received an answer two days later. The game was on.

Harry stepped outside the circle of his friends, having received

numerous claps on his back and no less than four good luck kisses, and
started walking towards his arch-nemesis. He hoped that all the people
shou ng encouragements to him wouldn't no ce that their hero's legs
were shaking badly. About a hundred yards ahead, Voldemort began his
approach as well. The cheers soon died out, and Aurors and Death
Eaters alike watched the two enemies draw closer with bated breath.
Harry could almost hear old western shootout music playing in the
background.

He glanced over his shoulder, and was heartened to see that the
combined forces of Aurors, Order members, and select Hogwarts
students appeared to outnumber the Death Eaters ahead of him at least
twice. The good guys formed a massive half-circle with the Aurors
guarding the flanks and the civilians posi oned in the middle. Opposite
to them, the Death Eaters crowded together, surrounded by feral-
looking werewolves who created the other boundary for the impromptu
arena. The fate of the whole Britain would be decided here today, and
everyone present had the best seats for the show.

Harry stopped in front of an unremarkable li le rock which marked the

line he couldn't cross lest he wanted to risk ge ng his soul sealed in a
can along with Voldemort's, and waited for his immortal foe to
approach.

"I must thank you, Harry," Voldemort hissed. "This is going to save me so
much trouble. A er everyone here sees their Chosen One fall by my
hand, they will realize that it is fu le to resist Lord Voldemort."

Harry's heart was hammering in his chest from fear and excitement.
Voldemort had stopped a standard dueling distance away from him, just
as they had hoped. The Shinto priests were supposed to be in posi on
already, crea ng an enormous, invisible magic circle across the field. If
he could just keep Voldemort talking...

"You seem awfully confident," he noted, feeling proud of the way his
voice sounded almost normal. "Yet every me I have faced you so far, I
have managed to escape despite being outnumbered and outgunned."

"You closed that door yourself," said Voldemort, sounding amused. "Try
to escape instead of figh ng me, and the contract you signed will
remove your magic. I hear it is a most painful experience."

"I am not going to run this me. What about you, Voldemort? Are you
wizard enough to face me without your Death Eaters holding me down?"

The Dark Lord laughed coldly, the familiar sound giving Harry the chills.
"So very arrogant, Harry. Have you learned a new spell or two? Has
Dumbledore shown you a few tricks? That won't be nearly enough to
defeat me. But enough of this cha er... Let's not keep our audience
wai ng."

"All right," said Harry, trying not to show how panicked he was. "But
first, tell me..."

"I said, enough!" Voldemort's demeanor had changed instantly. "Bow,

Harry. The formali es must be observed..."

Harry had to play along, for doing otherwise might have resulted in the
ac va on of the contract. All he had to do was hold out against the
strongest duelist in Britain for a few minutes. Piece of cake, right?

"Very well," Harry murmured, spi ng out a wad of gum he had been
chewing to calm his nerves. "As it happens, I'm all out of gum." He
saluted with his wand and lowered his head a ny frac on, keeping his
eyes on Voldemort who mirrored Harry's every move. The li le gesture
was all it took to officially begin the duel.
Harry's ins ncts screamed 'danger!' and he dived and rolled on the
ground to avoid the first two hexes Voldemort launched at him with
snake-like speed. The third one was absorbed by Harry's has ly erected
earthen shield; he didn't fancy tes ng whether Protego would protect
him from a nasty-looking Dark curse like that. Harry used that moment
to blast the ground below Voldemort's feet with a Confringo, the most
powerful spell he could cast wordlessly. As the Dark Lord was shielding
himself from the clumps of soil and rocks the explosion had launched at
him, Harry went on a counter a ack with a basic spell chain consis ng of
a stunner, a bludgeoner, and a Cu ng Curse.

"Very good, Harry," Voldemort spoke evenly a er swa ng away all the
three spells like they were nothing. "Now, let me show you how it's
done."

Harry's Protego somehow weathered the first a ack, but the second hex
obliterated it completely. Harry dodged the third one, a Suffoca on
Curse Snape had once demonstrated in class, and then cried out in pain
as his shoulder was clipped by a cu er. He was lucky he ducked
reflexively, for the last curse whisked right past his head.

"That's what a proper spell chain looks like, Harry," Voldemort lectured
him. "Not something you read in a text book. That last spell would have
frozen the blood in your veins... I'm pleased you managed to avoid it.
Now, come, entertain me some more."

Harry obeyed. He a acked swi ly and mercilessly, incorpora ng every

dirty trick and inven ve spell combina on he could think of into the
unrelen ng assault. Terrifying dark spells le his wand as readily as
schoolkid-level hexes, unpredictable and chao c. He went full out, not
thinking about prolonging the fight anymore, but actually trying to win.

None of it was enough. Voldemort was an immovable object, deflec ng

spells at superhuman speeds or erec ng shields so powerful that Harry's
a acks simply bounced off them. The Gryffindor didn't know how long
he had kept up the onslaught for; five minutes? Ten? All he knew was
that at some point, his concentra on finally faltered, and the spell he
was about to cast fizzled. Harry stared dumbly at his wand, then at his
unfazed opponent.

Immovable...

He realized with a start that Voldemort hadn't moved more than a few
feet from his ini al posi on; what the hell were those priests doing?
Harry risked a look around, blinking furiously due to sweat dripping into
his eyes, but all he saw were the indifferent masks of the Dark Lord's
minions.

"Help isn't coming, Harry."

He felt icy fingers of fear grip his heart. "I wasn't coun ng on any."

"Is that so?" Voldemort's red eyes bore into Harry's. "Then I guess you
are not the one who invited our guests from the Far East."

Harry's mouth went dry. "H-how?" he croaked.

The Dark Lord smiled coldly, his gaze directed not at Harry, but at
something behind him. "Take your righ ul place, my servant!" he called
jubilantly.

Harry whirled around, not even caring about the possibility of ge ng

cursed in the back, and gaped at the sight. A lone figure le
Dumbledore's group and started crossing over to the opposite side.

"Severus... Severus, why?" Dumbledore's forlorn voice could be heard by

everyone present in the deadly silence that descended over the scene.

"Because nothing would give me greater pleasure than seeing Po er's

broken body bleed out on the ground!" the traitor shouted maniacally
as he walked. "When our Lord finishes the boy, the contract will lose
power, and we'll kill everyone who refuses to join our side. Look forward
to it, old fool!"
"Dumbledore!" Harry screamed, shaking with terror and fury. "You
vouched for him! Tell me you've had that bastard swear an Unbreakable
Vow, so I can at least watch him die before Voldemort kills me!"

A moment's silence; then the answer came in a whisper, an unknown

spell carrying it straight into Harry's ears. "I'm sorry, my boy. I thought
his feelings for Lily would be enough to ensure his loyalty."

"That's... I don't even... Great fucking job, Dumbledore! You've doomed

us all!"

Voldemort laughed again and Harry fell to his knees, feeling his last
glimmer of hope vanish. He heard people behind him gasp and cry out.
Of course... Everyone here put their faith in him, and he had nothing to
show them. Some hero he was.

"You've heard Severus's hear elt wish, Harry. I can't disappoint my loyal
followers..." The Dark Lord trailed off, looking at him with something
akin to disappointment. "It is a pity, truly; I expected more from you, but
Severus was right: you are nothing. Now... look upon your death, child of
the prophecy, and know fear."

Harry raised his head and met Voldemort's burning eyes. He might have
lost the fight, but he was damned if he was going to die kneeling in front
of his sworn enemy. Grun ng with effort, Harry stood up and spoke, his
voice clear and calm.

"I have led vast armies, built and burned en re empires, slayed dragons
and demons, and assassinated tyrant kings. I have fought my way out of
hell, and triumphed over gods themselves! I'm not afraid of you, Tom
Riddle!"

Harry felt the lightest touch of Legilimency and could tell that it le
Voldemort deeply unse led; the Dark Lord saw that Harry had been
telling the truth, but didn't understand how any of his claims were
possible.
"Expelliarmus!" Voldemort spoke harshly, the first spell he had vocalized
during the en re ba le. Despite that, Harry s ll could do nothing but
watch his trusty wand leave his wand.

"So this is the wand which caused me so much trouble two years ago,"
the Dark Lord mused, inspec ng the magical instrument. "Let's see how
well it listens to me... Crucio!"

Harry's world disappeared in an explosion of pain. He came to an

indeterminate amount of me later, his throat sore from a scream he
didn't remember screaming. He heard concerned shouts around him,
and felt the urge to reassure everyone.

"I'm all right," he mumbled, forcing his hur ng body to stand up again.
"I'm okay."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at him. "I will break your spirit before I kill
you, boy. Kneel."

Harry gasped as an invisible force pushed him towards the ground, and
he fell down painfully on his knees. Hot tears began pooling in his eyes.
The way Voldemort wielded his magic, the way it responded to his
commands was just so unfair... How was he supposed to overcome that
kind of mastery?

The power he knows not...

His strength wasn't anything special – it certainly wasn't enough to even

put a scratch on Voldemort. The prophecy had to be wrong.

And yet...

Harry recalled all the weird happenings over the past two years, when
his own magic reacted to his needs in unusual and bizarre ways. He had
taken over Malfoy's body, shouted Snape off his feat, and performed the
Flame and the Void medita on. Even the li le Meatspin spell he had
cast on Draco right before the start of his fi h-year was decidedly odd,
now that he thought of it. The implica ons were staggering.

A mind-boggling theory formed in Harry's head as he watched Voldemort

rant and boast about his supposedly inevitable victory. It was
completely outlandish and nearly unbelievable, but then again, magic
itself had been the same back when he was eleven.

Harry knew a perfect way to test his guess. He opened his mouth and
began chan ng, the words flowing effortlessly from his lips as if they
were a part of his very being.

"Oh no, Harry!" Hermione was wiping her eyes fran cally, and she wasn't
the only one in the crowd to break down in tears. "Please, we have to
help him!"

"We cannot interfere un l either of the combatants is dead, Miss

Granger," the Minister for Magic said in a dull voice. Even he appeared
to have been affected by Harry's valiant effort and the subsequent fall.
"Rest assured that Mr. Po er's sacrifice won't be forgo en. As soon as
You-Know-Who deals the finishing blow, I will give the order for our
Aurors to a ack."

"Don't worry, Hermione," Luna interjected calmly. "The hero always gets
a power up when things look their bleakest, you know."

"What do you mean, Luna? What can Harry even do in this situa on?"

"I think he's going to use that," the blonde said mysteriously.

"Use what?" Hermione asked blankly, even forge ng to cry.

"His ul mate technique, of course."

I am a master of many magics.
My blood is the source, and my body is the conduit.

Voldemort stopped his supervillain monologue and stared at his

kneeling enemy suspiciously. "You can't do anything without your wand,
Po er."

I have survived the three Unforgivables.

In the face of overwhelming adversity,
I will carve out a path to tomorrow.

Halfway into the recita on, Harry's voice gained an ethereal quality, and
an unseen breeze began buffe ng his raven hair. Voldemort raised his
wand to a ack, but he was too late.

So, as I chant,
Unlimited Magic Works!

A ny black dot appeared and grew exponen ally, un l it swallowed

both Harry and Voldemort out of existence.
22. Power He Knows Not

"What in the name of Merlin happened there, Luna?" screeched

Hermione.

"For the last me, Hermione, I don't know!" the Ravenclaw girl sounded
uncharacteris cally flustered, her voice losing its usual dreamy quality.

"Don't lie to me! You men oned something about Harry's secret
technique–"

"I just said that because it seemed appropriate, given the situa on,"
Luna admi ed sheepishly.

"Appropriate? Appropriate?!"

Luna sighed. "You have no flair for the drama c, Hermione."

"What is this magic, Po er?!" Voldemort somehow managed to sound

both furious and awed.

"It's called a Reality Marble," Harry explained, looking around in wonder

himself. "You've probably never heard of it."

They were standing on a floa ng island surrounded by infinite blue sky.

The green meadow Harry and Voldemort found themselves in gave way
to a small copse of trees ahead. To his right, Harry saw a pond and a
small creek which flowed out of it and towards the edge of the island,
forming a waterfall and sending a stream of water into the endless
expanse of space below.

The piece of land couldn't have been more than half a mile across. And
as far as the eye could see, there were magical ar facts strewn about on
the ground. Staves, wands, and even an occasional sword poked out of
the earth, and more exo c magical foci were laid on the rocky
outcropping to his le , wai ng to be wielded.
Harry smiled. Magic was at the center of all the good things that had
ever happened to him. Being told that he was a wizard, seeing Diagon
Alley for the first me, picking up his wand, and cas ng his first spell
were some of the happiest moments of his life. The wizards' magic saved
him from a dull and dreary existence and showed him a fascina ng new
world. The magic from all the wondrous stories he had read and
watched took him on fantas c journeys and enraptured him.

And here, in this small world of his own, all that magic was at his
command.

Harry extended his hand and picked up a wing-topped staff. As soon as

he touched the smooth wooden sha , knowledge on how to use the
weapon flowed into his mind.

"Har-Har Infigar," he spoke, and a brilliant fireball le the staff and shot
towards Voldemort. The Dark Lord emerged from the flames a few
moments later, looking a bit singed, and very, very angry. Harry wasn't
done. "Asfal Riih!"

A powerful gust of wind slammed into the Dark Lord and li ed him him
into the air... where he remained, seemingly flying on his own power.
"Uh oh," Harry murmured, pu ng up a Borg just in me to defend
against the barrage of spells coming in from above. The shield didn't last
very long and he was forced to block the last spell with the staff itself,
watching it crumble in his hands with some regret.

Voldemort landed regally in front of him. "You lost your weapon once
again," he said derisively.

"I have plenty more." Harry laughed carelessly and gestured at the field.

Voldemort's red eyes darted around, never leaving Harry for more than a
few moments, and widened as he realized that the garden of staves
wasn't just for show. "How did you..."
Instead of answering, Harry reached for another staff, this one topped
with golden dragon claw clutching a crystal orb. He shuddered as he felt
its intoxica ng power, and understood at once that he was far too
inexperienced to unlock the ar fact's true poten al. He knew of just one
way to use it. Harry raised the Staff of Magius and charged at Voldemort,
swinging the weapon down with all his might.

There was a resounding gong as the staff impacted with Voldemort's

has ly erected Mage Shield, crea ng a spiderweb of cracks across the
shimmering gold surface. Voldemort stared at the damage incredulously,
then made an unfamiliar gesture with his wand and screamed out in
rage. The shield winked out of existence, and a powerful shock-wave of
compressed air hit Harry like an oncoming car.

He flew through the air, expec ng to be smashed into the ground and
possibly get impaled on one of the sha s s cking out, but somehow
ended up landing gently like a feather on his back. Harry glanced
gratefully at the Staff of Magius he was s ll clutching in his right hand
and let it go. If he survived this somehow, he'd experiment and train
with the amazing ar fact, but for now, he had no idea how to use it
properly.

A bright blue spell impacted on the ground a few inches away from his
head, and Harry saw that Voldemort was advancing towards him at a
leisurely pace, shoo ng curses as he walked. He looked around
fran cally and felt his gaze being drawn towards a sword right next to
him. The blade was sheathed in a white leather scabbard inlaid with
gold, and was calling for Harry to pick it up despite his complete lack of
fencing skills. Leaning on the hilt for support, Harry stood up and pulled
the blade out.

Liquid fire suddenly coursed through his veins, and Harry cried out from
the pain of being burned from the inside. He saw flashes of light in front
of his eyes, and felt his hair stand up. He couldn't let go of the hilt, and
wasn't sure if he even wanted to: it was power in the purest sense of the
word. The sword roared without a sound, sending an invisible magical
pulse through the air which drove Voldemort to his knees but didn't
otherwise affect the environment. Harry grit his teeth in order not to
scream again. He raised his hand to adjust his glasses, and jerked in
alarm when the le lens cracked on his touch.

He now knew what the sword was called; apparently, Harry's upper limit
was, in fact, higher than its lowest threshold, or merely unsheathing the
terrifying weapon would have killed him. Harry started walking towards
his fallen enemy, every step taking tremendous effort. The very air
surrounding him was thrumming with power.

Voldemort groaned, trying to shielding his eyes. "What... is that?"

"Curoch," Harry answered in a clipped tone. "Your death." He was using

both of his hands to raise the blade for the final blow; that thing was
extremely heavy, and not in the physical sense of the word.

Just as Harry finally li ed the sword above his head, there was a screech
coming from somewhere to his right, followed by a ny missile crashing
into him and making him lose his grip.

"No," Harry moaned and collapsed to the ground, feeling an immense

sense of loss. The legendary Sword of Power fell down harmlessly next
to him. Harry turned his head towards the unexpected a acker, and
jumped back in fright.

"What the hell is the baby from 'It's Alive' doing here?" he demanded
weakly.

Voldemort, recovering some of his strength now that Curoch's pressure

was gone, stared at the thing as well. The small, ugly creature seemed to
be protec ng the Dark Lord, posi oning itself in front of him and hissing
at Harry threateningly.

"I believe this is one of mine," Voldemort said with a note of wonder in
his cold voice.
"Who's the mother?" Harry asked, horrified.

The Dark Lord ignored him. "Come," he ordered, addressing the li le

monster. Before Harry could even comprehend what the crazy dark
wizard was babbling about, the demonic mutant baby jumped on
Voldemort's chest with a happy screech, and the two seemed to merge.

"What the hell did I just watch happen?" Harry was inching away from
his enemy, his brain refusing to process the unholy scene he had just
witnessed. As he was crawling away, his fingers encountered a small
cylindrical object on the grass, which he pocketed a er a moment's
hesita on. He would need me to ac vate this one.

Voldemort stood up slowly, his eyes glowing even brighter than before.
"I understand now, Harry," he announced triumphantly. "That night
sixteen years ago, you took some of my power for yourself, and that was
the reason why you were able to resist me for so long. Well, not
anymore! Witness Lord Voldemort's true power!" The Dark Lord's
unnaturally tall body elongated even more and began morphing,
changing into a massive pale snake that dwarfed Nagini in size.

Harry gaped. "Damn, I should have known that wasn't his final form."

The enormous serpent hissed at Harry, and he realized with a start that
he didn't understand what it was saying. The snake used this
momentary distrac on to strike and he dodged to the side, grabbing an
enchanted quarterstaff in the process. Harry felt himself gaining a bonus
feat, and grinned as he raised the weapon into the air and called his
animal companion. Moments later, a dire honey badger came barreling
out of the nearby grove.

Snakemort turned to face the new enemy and lashed out three mes,
sinking his venomous fangs into the flesh of his prey. Harry cursed when
he saw that the gigan c animal simply wasn't fast enough to evade the
rep le's a acks.
The serpent le the unconscious body of its defeated opponent and
slithered towards Harry, who had been backing away carefully this whole
me. He tried to move faster, but tripped on one of the weapons and
fell to the ground. The snake animagus advanced at an incredible speed
and began wounding around Harry's legs, torso, then chest. Harry didn't
know whether that was because Snakemort was out of venom or just
wanted to make him suffer more, but being unable breathe or pick up a
new weapon to drive off the snake meant he was going to die in a few
moments, anyway.

"Honey badger... don't care..." Harry gasped out, seeing black spots at
the edges of his vision.

The snake hissed suddenly and loosened the hold on Harry's chest. As
he breathed in deeply, he saw that his animal companion was back in
ac on, bi ng down on Voldemort's tail and dragging him away. He
cheered loudly, and, a er taking a few moments to recover, began
looking for a suitable weapon to end the vain Orochimaru wannabe
with.

A nearby ar fact, a white staff with a golden ring around a red orb,
caught Harry's eye immediately. Rather than picking it up, however, he
started edging away from it carefully.

The crystal orb flashed invi ngly, and the weapon spoke in a metallic
voice. "Welcome, new user."

Harry looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Um... I was just
passing through."

"Your magic level qualifies you to use me."

"That's rather gra fying to hear, but I'll look for something else. Thanks,
though."

"Hold out your strongest hand."

"Oh, what the hell." Harry reached for Raising Heart resignedly. At least
there were no witnesses – well, except for Voldemort, but he was hoping
to take care of that soon.

"Barrier jacket, setup," the staff declared as soon as the new wielder
touched its cool metal surface.

"Stop!" Harry yelled, having no inten on to go full magical girl. "I don't
need that thing!"

"All right, master." Raising Heart sounded dejected, making him feel a bit
sorry for the intelligent weapon.

While Harry was arguing with the magical device, Voldemort finally
managed to defeat the tenacious honey badger by returning to his
original form and simply eviscera ng the beast with an overpowered
cu er. He shouldn't have transformed in the first place, Harry thought,
but the arrogant bastard probably couldn't resist showing off. The Dark
Lord didn't come out of the fight unscathed, and the gruesome injuries
he sustained in the snake form clearly carried over to his human body.
This gave Harry the opening he needed.

"Chain Bind," Harry intoned, poin ng the long staff at his enemy
awkwardly. The spell worked perfectly, with chains appearing out of
magical circles around the Dark Lord and binding all four of his limbs.
Voldemort struggled against the bonds, but his fading physical strength
alone wasn't enough to break free. He glared hatefully at Harry as he
walked closer.

"I take back what I said, Harry. You are a worthy enemy. Together, we
could be unstoppable."

"You are delusional if you think there's even the slightest chance of me
joining you. No, Tom Riddle, you are going to die here." Harry dropped
the staff to the ground, ignoring its protests, and snatched the Dark
Lord's wand from his immobilized hand. "Accio Harry Po er's wand."
"You have no idea what I am capable of, do you? You can kill me now,
Harry Po er, but I will be back again, stronger than ever!"

"Not if I can help it." Harry pocketed the two wands and took out the
fluted black rod he had picked up when trying to escape the snake. He
pointed it towards his arch-nemesis and took a deep breath, a emp ng
to gather whatever magic he had le . He wasn't certain how the object
was supposed to be used, but he figured simply pushing his power into
it should do the trick. Having channeled magic through many different
foci at this point, Harry didn't find this a daun ng task at all. S ll, he
figured he'd need a lot more power compared to cas ng spells using a
wand or even a staff.

"What are you a emp ng to do, Po er?" Voldemort demanded, s ll

pulling at the chains furiously.

Harry took one step backwards, aimed straight at Voldemort's chest, and
willed all his magic into the rod.

"Eat balefire, bitch!"

A thin beam of pure, brilliant light le the ter'angreal and hit the Dark
Lord's body, enveloping it in purifying flames and making his mouth
open in a silent scream. A moment later, Voldemort was no more.

The rod fell from Harry's blistered fingers and he sunk to his knees in
exhaus on, watching the world around him unravel.

Harry raised his head slowly and looked around, finding himself in the
midst of a heated ba le. The Aurors were advancing towards the Death
Eaters, who were barricaded behind a variety of physical and magical
shields, using werewolves as cannon fodder and sniping their enemies
from the safety of cover. Harry was in-between the two groups, closer to
the good guys rather than the enemies, which he hoped meant they
were winning. It looked like his appearance already created a small lull
in the ba le, but he could do even more.
Harry took out his holly wand, pointed it at his throat, and cast the
Amplifying Charm. Swaying slightly with dizziness, he stood up and
opened his mouth. "I am Harry fucking Po er!" he bellowed, making
heads of hundreds of witches and wizards turn towards him. "And I just
killed Voldemort!"

"You lie!" screamed a masked man behind a Prisma c Shield some

distance ahead.

"Deal with it," Harry replied with the strength of Sonorus, and adjusted
his cracked glasses.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted another enemy, and Harry dropped to the

ground. He needn't have bothered, however – a shining bronze shield
came into existence in front of him and crumpled as it absorbed the
Killing Curse.

"I believe you, my boy," Dumbledore spoke, stepping forward and raising
a protec ve dome around Harry. "I am so very proud of you."

"Don't think this is going to be enough to make me forgive you,"

grumbled Harry, canceling the voice amplifica on wordlessly even as he
spoke. "Go kick their asses, Dumbledore. The contract doesn't affect you
anymore."

The ancient wizard saluted Harry with his wand and jumped into the
fray. With him on the job, Harry was certain the masked bandits
wouldn't stand much of a chance. The advancing line of Aurors followed,
placing themselves between Harry and the Death Eaters, and allowing
him to breathe easier. Last came Harry's friends and the Order, mobbing
the young man and shou ng tens of different ques ons at him
simultaneously.

"Whoa, whoa, I get it! I'm amazing, and you all love me. Now, let's get
this sorted out before we celebrate, all right?" Harry was too red to
fight anymore and could barely stand on his feet with Sirius holding him
up, but that didn't mean he couldn't put his skills to good use. "First,
someone conjure a huge-ass shield for Hagrid, and put all the defensive
charms on it you can. Hagrid, buddy, you're going to be the tank. Just
break through their lines and start swinging at those bastards in melee. I
want all experienced fighters to use that opening and DPS as hard as
you can. Everyone else just use Stunners and Body-Bind Curses to CC the
adds on the sides." Harry took a deep breath and frowned at all the
incredulous stares. "Hey, I'm the guy who killed Voldemort, remember?"

"I'm not certain I understood all that, Harry," Remus Lupin admi ed.

"I did," boomed Hagrid. "Just get me tha' shield an' I'll make short work
of those bastards. Nothin' short of a Killin' Curse is goin' ter take me
down."

"Good man." Harry grinned. "Professor McGonagall, since you're a pro at

Conjura on, please follow a short distance behind Hagrid and use
physical shields to protect him from Killing Curses."

The Order s ll seemed reluctant to follow Harry's commands, but

Hagrid's ba le-lust was infec ous. A mixed group of Order members and
of-age DA students soon moved out to support the Aurors, led by a half-
giant wielding a massive tower shield. The sight alone was enough to
demoralize the already-losing dark wizards. Harry stayed behind and
observed the ba le with his godfather while the Ministry Healers
patched up his numerous, but rela vely light injuries. He really wanted
to take a hot shower and crash in a comfy bed, but witnessing the
downfall of the Death Eaters came first.

In the end, neither the Order nor the DA suffered any casual es,
although Ron did get hit in the nose by a stray bludgeoner and ran back
crying for medical a en on. (Harry suggested that he QQ less and pew
pew more, rather confusing the pureblood wizard.) Hagrid was an
absolute beast in the ba le, even managing to bash Snape over the
head with his shield. It was a shame that it was conjured, really, or Harry
would have argued in favor of hanging the blood-stained object in the
Trophy Room at Hogwarts. Dumbledore returned last, a er making sure
that every single Death Eater was subdued, and apparently talked to
Harry at length about soul repositories and something to do with his
scar. It was too bad he didn't remember a word of it; Harry was close to
falling asleep on his feet the en re me, and finally passed out in the
arms of his friends before they reached Hogwarts.
23. Life Goes On

"Thank you for seeing me, sir," said Hermione politely, keeping her eyes
on the venerable Headmaster of Hogwarts. It was her first me in
Dumbledore's office, and she found it hard not to gawk at all the
fascina ng knick-knacks around her.

"It is no trouble, Miss Granger. What can I help you with today?"

"It is about Harry, sir." She fidgeted with her hands a li le. "What he did
back there... I've never heard of a spell capable of crea ng a 'pocket
dimension', as he called it. Not to men on, he didn't even use his wand!
Then there's all the other weird things he did over the past two years,
things that shouldn't have been possible..." the girl trailed off, looking
rather unse led by Harry's apparent disregard for the laws of magic.

"I wouldn't be opposed to sharing my theories with you, Miss Granger,

but surely Mr. Po er himself would be the best person to direct your
ques ons to? I have looked in on him myself this very morning, and
while Madam Pomfrey intends to keep him in bed for a while longer, he
is certainly well enough to have visitors."

"I tried!" Hermione huffed in frustra on. "I couldn't understand half of
the things Harry was saying, and when I asked him to explain, he just
called me a pleb and told me to get on his level."

"I... see. In that case, please make yourself comfortable, my dear, for this
might take quite some me. First of all, what do you know about the
systems of magic?"

"The Roman-La n school of magic is currently predominant in the

world," Hermione answered immediately. "There s ll are prac oners of
other kinds of sorcery in the more remote places on Earth, but they are
slowly abandoning the old ways. Our wand magic is more powerful and
convenient, and the spells are easier to learn. It is simply be er."
Dumbledore chuckled good-naturedly. "Knowledgeable as always, Miss
Granger. Yet what you've said about other magics being weaker than
ours wasn't always true. The Ancient Egyp ans are said to have
commanded powers beyond our imagina on using spells that are now
lost to us. Closer to home, the Druidic lore of the Celts was powerful
enough to resist the Roman invaders for many years. And yet, anyone
a emp ng to perform their ancient rites today would find that they
simply don't work, or else, their effects are but a pale shadow of what
they used to be millennia ago."

Hermione frowned. "What if they were always that way? Legends o en

tend to exaggerate things."

"Indeed, that is the the view of many of our contemporaries. However, I

personally subscribe to a certain theory created by a group of
researchers about a century ago. These daring men and women claimed
that the power of magic hinged on belief. For you see, at some point in
history, both Roman and Egyp an schools of magic were equally
powerful. Yet as the followers of the former grew in number, its spells
became stronger, and the Egyp ans began conver ng. Their own sorcery
became weaker over the genera ons, un l it finally died out. Some of
their spells were incorporated into the Roman system, but no one these
days is able to fully replicate their magical ceremonies.

"It is my opinion that this pa ern repeated itself many mes over
history. Babylon and Persia, ancient Indian and Chinese cultures, Aztecs
and Inca... A school of magic, closely ed to the peoples' culture and
religion, would be born, flourish for a me, and eventually get absorbed
into a stronger one, or disappear altogether. Of course, the innate magic
of wizards and witches stayed the same – only the methods of accessing
it changed."

Dumbledore paused for a moment and leaned back in his chair. "My
guess should be obvious to you by now, Miss Granger: Harry has
inadvertently created his very own system of magic. I can't even begin to
guess as to how he accomplished a feat like that, but the results are
apparent."

"I find that hard to believe," Hermione blurted out. "Sorry, sir, I didn't
mean to contradict you. It's just that, you've said that the strength of a
magical system depends on the number of its followers, and..."

"And Harry is the only one to demonstrate powers like that,"

Dumbledore finished, a twinkle in his eye. "Your skep cism is completely
understandable, Miss Granger; you don't have to apologize for that. As
it happens, I have come up with an explana on for this phenomenon.
The answer lies with Muggles and their fascina ng culture. Millions of
people read, enjoy, and talk about the stories that inspired Harry so. It
appears one does not need to have magic themselves in order to
support its existence and facilitate its use by those who do."

Hermione gaped at Dumbledore for a few moments, the groaned and

hid her face in her hands.

"Are you unwell, Miss Granger?"

"Of course I'm unwell!" Hermione exploded. "You've just told me that all
magic depends on belief rather than a set of inherent and unchanging
laws!"

"It is merely a theory, my dear, and a fringe one at that," Dumbledore

explained, looking slightly alarmed. "Our system of magic does follow
certain..."

"Tell me it isn't true! Be er yet, Obliviate me right now!"

When Harry woke up in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, he found out

that he had been asleep for three days straight from sheer magical
exhaus on. He then had to spend two more recovering under the
tender care of Madam Pomfrey, who wouldn't let him leave his bed
except for a short trip to the loo. It was frustra ng, but Harry was feeling
quite weak and not really up to facing everyone yet. Thankfully, the
mediwitch kept the visitors to the minimum, only allowing Scrimgeour,
Dumbledore, Sirius, and Harry's closest friends anywhere near him.

When Harry was finally allowed to leave the infirmary, he did so under
the escort of Ron, Hermione, and Luna. The group following the boy
hero steadily grew as he moved towards the Great Hall, and everyone
erupted in applause when he crossed the double doors. Harry grinned,
waved, and endured congratulatory slaps on his shoulders all the way to
his seat. Several people asked him what he had done to make both
himself and Voldemort disappear during his duel, and Harry just
answered curtly with 'magic' without going into too many details. Oddly
enough, that was enough to sa sfy the curiosity of most wizards and
witches. More than one person also commented on his hair, which had
white streaks going through it now – a side effect of wielding Curoch. He
didn't par cularly mind, especially a er Parva remarked that it looked
'wicked cool'.

As it turned out, there had been a celebratory feast at Hogwarts a er

Dumbledore came back and announced that Lord Voldemort had fallen
to Harry Po er. Each of the Houses (with the possible excep on of
Slytherin) then threw their own par es, which, predictably, were a lot
more raucous and wild. Ron gleefully reassured Harry that there would
be another one in their Common Room that night, supposedly in Harry's
honor. He strongly suspected that it was just an excuse to get drunk and
fool around, but that suited him just fine.

Outside the school, mass celebra ons had started the next day a er the
even ul ba le, when the newspapers announced Voldemort's defeat.
According to the latest Daily Prophet, the Ministry Obliviators were s ll
dealing with the a ermath, making Muggles believe they witnessed a
bunch of people dressing up for a fantasy conven on or some such. The
papers also sung praises to Harry and speculated endlessly on what
magic he had used to defeat Voldemort. Their descrip ons of the duel
and the subsequent ba le were surprisingly accurate, but, of course,
they didn't know anything about what had happened a er he ac vated
his Reality Marble. Harry intended to keep things that way, par ally
because he didn't yet understand his newfound abili es very well, and
par ally because he was afraid of ending up as an experimental subject
for the knowledge-thirsty Unspeakables.

That night's dinner was another feast, and the tables were groaning with
mouth-watering food. Dumbledore made a speech to welcome Harry
back among their midst, cu ng it short when he saw that the young
wizard wouldn't stop glaring at him. (Harry had no inten on of forgiving
the Headmaster for the whole fiasco with Snape any me soon.)
Everyone toasted Voldemort's vanquisher – with the excep on of a few
Slytherins, whose parents were now behind bars – and Harry felt all
warm and mushy inside as he saw a sea of adoring and reverent
students looking up to him. Then again, the defeated looks on the faces
of the Death Eater children were sa sfying in their own way.

Speaking of Death Eaters, Malfoy was si ng a small distance away from

his usual flunkies and staring at Harry intently. He gave the Slytherin a
careful nod to reassure him that he hadn't forgo en his promise. He was
going to release Draco from the vow... A er the boy tes fied truthfully in
any trials the DMLE required him to. Harry had already spoken to
Scrimgeour, and the Minister said the Malfoy heir would probably get off
sco -free if he did that. The press would then hail the boy as a hero for
standing up to his Death Eater parents, which would ensure that any
Dark Lord sympathizers s ll at large saw him as a traitor. This way Draco
would never – could never – become a Death Eater again.

"So, Man-Who-Conquered, what are you planning to do next?" asked

Ron, punching Harry on the shoulder playfully. "S ll going to come back
to take your NEWTs?"

"Of course he is," said Hermione. "Harry needs them for his career."

Ron chuckled. "Everyone loves Harry right now. He could probably get a
job anywhere he wanted through his fame alone. Or, even be er, live on
the s pend from the Order of Merlin he's inevitably going to receive."
The redhead smiled wis ully as he imagined not having to work for the
rest of his life.

"As I recall, the s pend is rather symbolic. Besides, Harry might actually
have aspira ons, unlike some people here."

Ron's easy smile finally vanished at Hermione's sharp words, and Harry
interrupted before another argument could start between his two
friends. "I am returning to Hogwarts, of course. It would be stupid not to
finish the school now that we've only got one year le . Besides, I want
to experience a fun senior year with no Voldemort or Snape to worry
about. Just pranking, partying, and picking up girls."

"Well... I suppose that's all right, as long as you don't let your grades
suffer," Hermione said dubiously.

"I'm not doing it so I can get a well-paid job a er Hogwarts, though,"

Harry con nued. "Keep this under wraps for now, but there was a
bounty on Voldemort's head, and, well... suffice to say, I'm all set on that
front."

"How large was it?" wondered Ron.

"One million Galleons," Harry replied nonchalantly as he loaded his

plate with roast beef.

"How many zeroes is that?" his best mate asked in an awed voice, too
flabbergasted to act jealous.

"Six, Ron. Honestly, why doesn't Hogwarts teach basic math?" Hermione
frowned at the clueless redhead. "Anyway, Harry, what are you going to
do with all that money?"

"Charity," he replied proudly. "I am going to open a fund to help war

vic ms as well as marginalized groups like werewolves."
The brainy witch seemed pleasantly surprised. "That's very admirable,
Harry."

"I know, right? The public is going to worship me," he gloated. "Except
for the Ministry farts. They are going to be so pissed-off when they see
their money going to werewolves. I can't wait to see their faces!"

Hermione sighed. "And here I thought you were doing this out of the
goodness of your heart."

"Six zeros..." murmured Ron, a faraway look in his eyes.

The party in the Gryffindor Common Room was one to remember.

McGonagall had come over and warned them not to go too crazy, but a
few seventh-years busted out the booze as soon as she le . Ron went
over immediately to arrange a game of beer pong, no doubt eager to
show off his skills. Weird Sisters were playing on the wireless, the lyrics
sounding rather amusing to Harry's Muggle-raised ears, and magical
fireworks were going off every few minutes without emi ng any smoke
or heat. The younger years were ea ng joke candy and drinking
bu erbeer under the watchful eye of the prefects, who intended to
send them to bed before things got too wild. Several older students
gathered around Cormac McLaggen, who was trying to convince the
upper-year girls that a wet T-shirt contest was in order.

Harry grinned when he saw that par cular scene, and went about
conjuring a hot tub. With enthusias c help from most of the male
student body, the end result looked more like a swimming pool, taking
up most of the circular room. Thanks to everyone present cas ng
Aguamen , it didn't take very long to fill it with water. Tired of ge ng
splashed, the girls soon began discarding their wet robes; many ran up
to their dorms to grab a swimsuit or conjure one out of thin air.

"Just as planned!" Harry cackled drama cally, his eyes following the
shapely behind of a seventh-year female.
"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Lavender, leaning on the wall of the
pool. "Get some swimming trunks and join us!"

"Hell yeah!"

A few hours later, the party finally started winding down. Harry was
res ng on a couch, pleasantly buzzed and more than a li le red.
Everyone wanted to talk to him, to touch him, to feel like a part of his
legend. Harry took it all in stride. He especially enjoyed the female
a en on, but as he tried to flirt with the Gryffindor girls, his thoughts
kept coming back to a certain quirky Ravenclaw blonde. He resolved to
speak with Luna before they le for the summer, and hopefully keep in
touch with her during the holidays.

"Hey, Harry," someone called out so ly, and Harry turned to see Ginny
approach him from the side. The girl was wearing a bathrobe over her
bikini, and carrying a bo le of something clearly alcoholic in her hand.

"What's up, Ginny?"

The girl walked to the couch a li le unsteadily and sat down right next
to Harry, making him squirm uncomfortably. "I've been wan ng to talk to
you all night," she said coyly, her eyes downcast.

"What about?" Harry drawled, a emp ng to play it cool. He tried not to

think about how Ginny was si ng so close that he could feel the
warmth of her body, or how the obscenely short bathrobe somehow
made her look even ho er than the more revealing swimsuit did.

"Can't you guess?" Ginny gave him a sultry smile, no cing the way his
eyes wandered down to her bare legs. "I'll just say it straight out. I broke
up with Dean last week, and, well... I've never go en over you, Harry."

"Oh." He tore his eyes away from her expectant gaze and looked around
the room, making sure none of the stragglers were paying him any
a en on. "This is... wow."
Ginny's confession put Harry in quite a quandary. On one hand, he had
never really thought about her that way before. She was just Ron's
younger sister, a li le girl with a silly crush and a bad case of hero
worship directed towards him. On the other, she had obviously become
more mature this year, in ways both mental and physical. At the very
least, there haven't been any 'elbow in a bu er dish' accidents for quite
a while.

"What is it, Harry?" Ginny whispered as she leaned over, her breath
ckling his neck. "Don't you find me a rac ve?"

"N-no, I think you're pre y," he stammered awkwardly. It was mostly

true, as well; Ginny wasn't a stunning beauty like Cho, but she was quite
easy on the eyes now that she lost her baby fat. Why was he so
hesitant? Here was a willing and a rac ve female, prac cally offering
herself to him... Well, Ron might kick his ass a er he finds out, but...

"I think we would be good together," Ginny spoke in a slightly slurred

voice. "I know it."

Harry turned his head towards the younger girl and frowned. "How
much did you have to drink?"

"I had a dream recently," the youngest Weasley con nued to speak
quietly, ignoring the ques on. "We were married happily and we had a
son. We – hic – named him Albus in the memory of the greatest
headmaster Hogwarts has ever known."

Harry shuddered in horror, the mental image sobering him up more

effec vely than the best Cleansing Po on ever could. What had he been
thinking? Him and Ginny... The idea was laughable even before he had
learned that the girl was, apparently, crazy.

"That's fucked up," said Harry dryly. "I'm fla ered you think that highly
of me, Ginny, but I'm not interested in you that way. Sorry."

"What? But I..."

"I'm going to get someone to help you to your dorms," Harry stated,
ge ng up from the couch. "Goodnight, Ginny."

Harry was sipping a drink and lounging on the balcony overlooking the
main floor of his establishment. He noted with sa sfac on that the
place was almost full, as it usually was at this me of the day. Despite
the number of patrons present, all you could hear was so , ubiquitous
music, for each table was protected by privacy charms. The spectacular
interior, created by the best Muggle and wizarding designers, was
enhanced further by so LED ligh ng and live fairies flu ering around
the room.

Phantasmagoria was a restaurant and a nightclub, magically

transforming every evening to suit the tastes of the different clientele. It
was located at the top of one of the tallest skyscrapers in London, and
sprawled across two stories. Harry had bought both floors shortly a er
he graduated, using the money from his bounty as well as an
unexpectedly profitable Dogecoin investment he had placed during the
summer before his seventh year. He then me culously destroyed all
records of the top two floors ever exis ng and hid them under Fidelius.
That single charm was perfect for Harry's needs, concealing the place
from Muggle eyes and cameras be er than a complex warding scheme
ever could.

Of course, pre y much everyone in the wizarding world knew about

Phantasmagoria by now, seeing how adverts for it were plastered all
over the magical shopping districts and se lements of Britain. Even
some magic-aware Muggles, such as parents of Hogwarts students who
visited the Diagon Alley and saw the posters, wandered in occasionally
to enjoy the clearly magical atmosphere and the amazing view. Harry
made sure they would be welcome; money was money, a er all, and his
establishment was accep ng all kinds.

He put down his drink and stood up to greet his guests. "Fred,
Hermione, George, Angelina. It's good to see you, guys." He shook hands
with the twins and gave the girls a hug.

Hermione lingered in his arms for a moment and gave him a peck on the
cheek. "Luna's not here?"

"She couldn't make it. They're running some sort of a test down in the
Department of Mysteries, and she wanted to observe the results
firsthand."

"Interes ng," Hermione murmured. "I'll ask her tomorrow."

Despite her analy cal mind and ap tude for research, Hermione had
chosen to go into poli cs a er Hogwarts, figh ng for the rights of
Muggles and non-human Beings in the wizarding world. She s ll
maintained an interest in magical research, however, and pursued a few
projects in her spare me. At least Fred was there to make sure she was
ea ng and sleeping properly.

The five friends made small talk as they enjoyed a luxurious dinner. A er
everyone was fed and watered, Harry brought up the reason he had
called the mee ng. Truth be told, Harry would have preferred to talk
about this with the twins alone, but their girlfriends were bound to find
out eventually.

He took a small orb out of his suit and placed it on the table. "I took a
look yesterday, and this is bloody amazing. You've really outdone
yourselves, guys."

Fred grinned proudly "Ah, our Daydream Charm. We thought you might
like it. Our customers are quite interested in it, but we're having trouble
coming up with good material. For now, we've tuned the magic so the
user creates most of the story himself, much like in a dream, but the
results have been mixed."

"Some of our customers returned it, complaining that their daydream

degenerated into a nightmare," the other twin clarified at Harry's
ques oning glance.
"What if we used them like memory orbs? Would that work?"

The twins exchanged a glance. "We'd have to adjust it a li le, remove

the imagina on trigger, but in general... I don't see why not. "

"This has poten al like you wouldn't believe," Harry breathed. "Few
could resist the tempta on to fly as Krum in World Cup finals or to win a
professional Duelling Compe on. Hell, I bet even my memory of the
Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets would sell like hotcakes! Not to
men on, the me I've faced the dragon in the Triwizard Tournament, or
even when I fought Voldemort..."

"We'd give you–"

"Fi y percent of the profits!"

Harry grinned at the twin-speak, a sure sign that the Weasleys were
excited about something. "Make it sixty and we have a deal. Be er yet,
why don't we start a company which would focus on these things
alone?"

"I'm sure it could be used for educa onal purposes as well," Hermione
offered her input. "Whole lectures could be packaged up. It would be
just like learning in a classroom, with the downside of not being able to
ask the teacher any ques ons."

"I suppose we could do that, too," Harry said with distaste. "But I have
an idea which would be a hundred mes more profitable."

"Let's hear it, then."

Harry raised his index finger, pausing for drama c effect. "Porn."

Hermione nearly choked on her dessert. "W-what?"

Harry grinned at his friend. Hermione had become more calm and
collected over the years, and he secretly treasured the moments when
he could s ll surprise her like that.

"It was actually the first thing on my mind when I found out about the
Daydream Charm. I mean, what else would you use a realis c virtual
experience for? We'll have to hire some magical actors or find out
whether memories can be extracted from Muggles, but we can iron out
the details later." Harry stood up and struck a pose, his eyes shining with
greed. Framed by the lights behind him, he cut an imposing figure.
"While the wizarding world has no adult entertainment to speak of, it is
a mul -billion industry on the Muggle side. Just imagine what would
happen if we offered this stuff to a completely untapped market. With
Veela, Metamorphs, and the Polyjuice Po on available to us, the
possibili es are endless... Mark my words, this is going to take the en re
wizarding world by storm!"

Fred grinned. "Billions, huh? I like the sound of that."

"Me too, brother of mine. This will probably destroy the produc vity of
wizards across the globe, but we are beyond pe y concerns like that,"
George added.

"Pornography degrades and objec fies women!" Hermione spoke up

indignantly. "Angelina, you agree with me, don't you?"

"Can't say I do, Hermione. Me and Georgie, we some mes like to watch
a dirty movie together and..." the other woman at the table trailed off,
ducking her head shyly and giving her significant other a glance.

"Damn, George, you're a lucky man. Looks like you're outnumbered,

Hermione." Harry sat down again, smiling at his flabbergasted friend. It
took a while for Hermione to regain her composure.

"You don't even need the money," she protested, finally coming up with
another argument. "The latest Magiconomist said Phantasmagoria was
more profitable than all your compe tors in the Diagon Alley combined."
"There's no such thing as too much money, Hermione. Not when it
comes to what I'm doing, anyway."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"The same thing I've been doing for the past few years: trying to take
over the world!"

Hermione hung her head and buried her face in her hands. "We're
doomed."

A/N: Thank you for reading! This story was a bit all over the place, but
that's what happens when I write whatever I want. Please leave a review
and tell me what you thought of it. For more in the same vein, check out
my new story Weeb.