Chapter 16
Krum and Cedric were incredibly angry to have both been sure they were over time and completely unable to find their hostage, only to finally surface and see their hostages shivering in the medical tent while Harry and his were enjoying a late breakfast.
Bagman was beyond ecstatic, but all of the other judges seemed as though they had taken pepper ups, with steam streaming from their ears. Madame Maxine was the least angry, Harry had inadvertently saved her student after all, but Karkaroff seemed about a minute away from demanding his head. Crouch's face was pinched and consumed with anger, and Dumbledore was playing his disappointed grandfather face so hard Harry suspected it might set like that if he wasn't careful. Flitwick was definitely angry, but he seemed so interested in Harry's work that he wasn't sure what his reaction should be.
The crowd also wasn't sure what to think. Usually at this point there'd be cheering or something, but it was more of a confused rumble emanating from the platforms. No one was quite sure what to make of Harry dedicating his win to the man that had killed his parents, or of Harry stealing everyone's hostage. Harry thought Padfoot might get a laugh out of both of those.
Before long, Bagman's voice shouted out across the now quiet waters, "The judges have come together for scoring, and we have the following results to share. Coming in first place, with excellent use of animation charms as well as transfiguration, Mr. Harry Potter. Unfortunately, for taking all of the hostages, not just his own, and abandoning his fellow champions to search fruitlessly underwater until the conclusion of time, we have taken twenty-five of his fifty points!"
The crowd responded with another confused rumbling. Evidentially the dedication of the win along with the performance had put all of the schools and all of the houses in a position where they genuinely weren't sure if they should to cheer. The confusion kept going loudly for about twenty seconds until Bagman made to speak again. Before he could get a word off, a huge amount of fireworks burst from the top of the nearest viewing platform. They took the form of a massive dragon (a horntail, it figured), which left a trail as it flew, spelling out 'Potter Wins!' in front of the stands and judges. Harry loved his brothers.
Bagman impressively cleared his throat while under the Sonorus and resumed, "Mr. Diggory was the next quickest to reach the village of the mer-people at the base of the lake, and will be given forty points for his excellent use of the bubble head charm. Mr. Krum performed an impressive if incomplete human transfiguration, and will be given thirty-five points for his performance in getting to the village third. Mrs. Delacour, who performed an admirable bubble head charm but was overwhelmed by grindylow before being saved by Mr. Potter's army of mini-golems," Harry really didn't like the gleam he saw in Fleur's eye at that, "will be given twenty points. Please join us all for the third and final task of the Triwizard tournament on June twenty-fourth, no information will be given out about the task until the week before. Thank you all for coming out!"
Harry led Luna off to her tower so she could shower and change clothes. After waiting for her for about five minutes at the door, he grew bored and solved the riddle, taking a seat in the Ravenclaw common room and disturbing an amused group of seventh years who had foregone the task for studying or personal projects.
When Luna came down she shook her head and made an exasperated noise at what could only be the antics of Harry Potter. The couple made their way to their warded table in the library.
Days after the task, Harry was still getting unusual looks from people from every school. Beauxbatons girls were tittering behind their hand as he came near. He hadn't forgotten the look of hunger he'd received from Fleur at the end of the task, so those gave him a very bad feeling. The fur-wearers were giving him looks that would be deadly if they had any power behind them (Harry had been wondering if he could actually channel a spell out his eyes like that, but didn't have the nerve to try, his being able to see without glasses was too new to risk). Hogwarts was torn between wonder at the powers Harry was showing and anger for his treatment of Cedric.
Harry actually felt a little guilty for that. Krum was as surly as they came and all told Harry felt nothing for snubbing him, but Harry liked a few 'Puffs, and he felt bad for treating their champion like that, even if he was a bit of a berk.
The looks only got worse with the next issue of Witch Weekly to come out. It seemed that Skeeter had taken his dedication to his godfather and Luna to some illogical conclusions, and had no compunction about sharing them with the world.
He had explained to Luna his reasons for doing what he had done (he liked her and had no trouble with folks knowing, also that minor matter of 'Stubby Boardman's' innocence) and she had understood and approved. It looked like Skeeter was taking whatever passed for kid gloves for her off.
Witch Weekly had a number of articles about Harry. Front page material was an expose on his own Ms. Lovegood, covering the opinions of a number of her former tormentors as well as the opinions of a few Slytherins that were claiming that she had used love potions to claim him. Luna wasn't concerned, she never was about these things, but Harry was plenty angry for her. Unfortunately that wasn't all.
Rita had cornered an angry Hermione after the task it seemed, and the aforementioned Granger had aired a number of grievances. Harry hadn't spoken a word to her since the aftermath of the first task, and she was not pleased. She had gotten the idea from somewhere that he had undergone dark rituals to increase intelligence and power. Her normal obsessive research had turned up a number of rituals designed for both purposes, though how Harry was to have taken the virginity of a witch on the eve of her 17th birthday, as well as even found a quintaped to kill in ritual combat, was beyond him.
Skeeter took her research and ran with it. Apparently ministry detectors had registered several unsanctioned apparations in and out of the Isle of Drear recently, and when she had made 'discreet' inquiries, droves of witches had come out of the woodwork claiming to have given their virginity to the boy-who-lived. She neglected to mention that ministry detectors registered hundreds of aparations through Drear yearly, and that its beaches were a focal point for adrenaline junkie wizards with more gold than sense. She also neglected to mention that to date several hundred witches had come forward claiming to have had sex with him, most since he turned eleven, thankfully. Wizarding Britain really wasn't giving him a lot of reason to stick around. Harry had heard France and Spain were nice this time of year. Australia even shared a language.
Malfoy saw fit to visit the Ravenclaw table on the morning of Witch Weekly's publication. Harry was less than amused.
"Potter, Potter, Potter. Dark rituals, really? Can't you leave those for your betters?" Crabbe and Goyle too their positions at the small blonde's sides, "You sad son-of-a-mudblood. And what's this? You falling for some whore's love potions now too? Pity you weren't raised with the rest of us real wizards so you coul..."
Draco's mouth kept moving, but no noise left. Harry hadn't moved or drawn his wand, he had gotten a lot better at casting without movement or words. He needed more practice, but his control was good enough for this. He moved from his seat. Harry was quiet and willing to let most of what Malfoy said slide, the idiot practically defined bark but no bite. Harry saw the millisecond of haunted look in Luna's eye, though. He couldn't pretend to know the first thing about girls, but he knew that Luna hurt, despite how she acted. Harry only needed the millisecond. He was getting good with charm modification.
"I'm sorry Draco, what was that you were saying?" Harry held a hand to his ear, "I can't quite make it out."
Crabbe and Goyle both took half a step forward, but before they could complete it, they were in full body binds.
"I thought I heard you insult my girlfriend. Let me make something perfectly, deadly clear to you. You can mouth off about me all you want. You know you're useless, I know you're useless, that's fine. But the exact moment you begin to attack anyone near me, I will end you," Harry spread his hands in front of him, "Did you see me move a wand, or even draw one, little dragon? Because I didn't. My hands have yet to move from my fork and knife here. Now I want you're pathetically tiny brain to think of what would happen to you if I did draw."
Draco was clutching at his throat, his eyes filled with concern and worry. He couldn't talk! He didn't know non-verbal casting, that was NEWT level, he wasn't ready for that!
Harry stood, reached across the table, and slapped the panicking boy, the sound bringing a small measure of quiet to the tables around them. Harry's hand left the Slytherin's shocked (but focused) face, and pointed directly between his eyes.
"Pay attention now, because I will tell you, and by extension your father and all of Slytherin this once, and once only. I have asked for this, I am fair game. You so much as look at anyone I care about, and you will wish to your tiny worthless ancestors that you had never been born. You think you have seen my magic, but you do not know a hundredth part of my power, worm. If any of you look at my friends the wrong way, I will break you."
Harry slapped the boy again.
"Now nod your worthless head and show me you understand."
Draco did, his face gone completely white.
Harry sat back at his table, next to Luna. Neville had yet to join them, Malfoy had approached from where the no longer as timid boy would have usually sat. The exchange between the two boys had been whispered, but the crack of the two slaps to Draco's face had not gone as unnoticed as the words had been. From the way his whole visible body had drained of what little color the normally pale boy had, Harry felt his message had gotten across. He had thought about it, and Harry wasn't ready to kill, not yet. Harry was ready to curse within an inch of any of their worthless bigoted lives though, and in the admittedly small experience of the boy, that was almost as good.
Snape had seen both strikes from the staff table. None of the other professors had ever challenged him, and with the support of the headmaster, the potions teacher doubted they ever would. He stood and made his way to the Ravenclaw table as his godson (strangely) made his silent way back to the table of silver and green.
"Potter! Fifty points and a week's detention for hitting another student!," Snape closed with his most hated student, and continued in a near whisper as he reached the space behind Harry, "Do you think you're something special, boy? Do you think because you cheated your way into this competition, and because you have broken so many rules that you mean something?"
Snape grabbed the magazine from the hands of that worthless Lovegood girl and brandished it in Potter's face, "It doesn't matter how many times your blighted name appears in print, you're nothing but an arrogant child, just like your father, thinking you mean something."
Harry turned from his place and looked Snape in the eye, not showing an ounce of the fear the potions master so desperately sought. Snape had yet to play his trump card though. His right hand reached into his left sleeve, and partially revealed a small vial of clear potion.
"Do you know what this is, Potter? Its veritaserum. The most powerful truth potion known to wizard-kind. Just a drop would have you spilling your deepest secrets to the most innocuous question," He tilted his hand slightly, "Just a drop in your evening pumpkin juice, and you would be anyone's plaything."
Harry had enough. The games were getting tiresome. He wasn't quite the dullard they seemed to expect him to be after the last few years. The summer, and the tutelage of Minerva and Fillius had given him something he had never had before, confidence. With a strength that seemed to belie his age, Harry grabbed the front of the potions master's robes, and pulled them so the man's ear was at his mouth.
"Let me tell you something, Severus, I've had you're potion before. It meant nothing to me. I could beat veritaserum in my sleep. So go ahead, you worthless git, I'll go with you, drop for drop, and we'll see who has more secrets to spill, death eater. I'm worth a dozen of you on my worst day. Take your pitiful potions, and walk your worthless way back to your seat. You are older than any three students present, but you try to intimidate teenagers. My father could have been a bully every day he was here, but he would have been better than a creepy old man trying to show he was better than a bunch of students."
Harry released Snape's robes, and with a drastically overpowered compulsion, sent the man back to his seat at the staff table. If Skeeter decided to play with the kid gloves off, he could too. They could see how many shares in the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly a few hundred thousand galleons would bring, and if Rita still had a job by the end, they could work from there.
No one threatened his Luna. Harry had never had a lot worth fighting for, but if Luna was worth rescuing during the task, she was worth his effort now. Malfoy could see how two days without speech felt, and if Harry knew his work, Snape could see how he liked a day where every moment spent not eating at the staff table was mental agony.
Time, and a few goblin guided purchases of controlling shares saw the fervor surrounding him die. Harry almost expected to have to talk to an auror over the allegations in the papers, but apparently Bones in the DMLE took as dim a view of the British papers as he did.
When he bought the controlling shares in the paper, he just made sure the editors knew their jobs were on the line any time his name was mentioned. He toyed with the idea of enforcing editorial standards, and ensuring journalistic integrity, but why should he? He could count the number of wizards he trusted and knew were on his side on one arse cheek. Society could go hang itself, Harry had loose plans to ditch Britain when he came of age. Things were moving slow, but if Luna and Xeno wanted to come with him, he need never return.
Harry showed up to his normal lesson time with Flitwick, and was genuinely unsurprised to see an extremely self-satisfied Scotswoman and the aged head of the Wizarding Examinations authority. He did sigh though.
"Mr. Potter! I believe you may have an idea why I'm here, would you like a cup of tea?"
Minerva was twinkling at an intensity that Dumbledore would be hard pressed to match, and Harry's favorite half-goblin looked like he was near bursting from pride.
"I'd love one Madam Marchbanks-"
"Please, call me 'Selda. I think that the soon to be youngest holder of two masteries in English history can be afforded a little leeway."
Harry had begun questioning his sanity of late. If Vernon hadn't convinced the Masons to come over, he wouldn't have spent three days in Diagon, he'd have come here and been unprepared, no extra training, Ron being a berk, Hermione being an undercover backstabber. This year was surreal, being close to his magic, feeling it, had changed every piece of his world.
Luna had mentioned once, as her great aunt Alice had said, when you go down the rabbit hole or through the looking glass, your options were to sit and cry or see the thing through and become a queen. As much as Harry wasn't looking forward to his eventual coronation, her advice was sound.
Harry had seen this coming, and not just because he had seen Madam Marchbank's face at his animation and shield charms. He strongly suspected Minerva's hand in pushing for his masteries. At any rate Harry had an idea for what he would like to do, and the Lady approved, but he needed to run it by the group before him.
"Selda, Minerva, Fillius, what do you all know about the magic of Hogwarts?"
Fillius and Marchbanks looked to Minerva, who addressed the group, "Well the story goes that at a time of strife, when the wild magic of the druids, Celts, and ancient Norsemen were running dangerously through the land, the four strongest sorcerers of the age got together and formed from the chaos of raw magic a castle where the young could be taught and their powers harnessed before they could harm the land. The founders were said to have put a piece of their souls in the castle, for how else could the building made from the fabric of magic hold itself together for so long and so well?"
"What if I told you that wasn't entirely the truth. Have you ever wondered why the staircases move, or why, sometimes, when you need something or are late the hallways can seem to guide you in the right directions by themselves? What I am about to tell you isn't really a secret, but your discretion would be appreciated nonetheless. This castle is alive, it's self-aware. It knows what it is, and what we are, and it, I guess for lack of a more complete word, loves each and every one of us."
The group seemed surprised, but not as much as Harry suspected they would be. They were more thoughtful.
"What I would like to do is create a golem, much like I did during the task, but my intent is to enchant the living daylights out of it, make it permanent, and connect it to the living spirit of the castle. I want to give the Lady Hogwarts, the Lady of the Castle, an avatar. I believe I can do it. I can't talk to the Lady, she doesn't speak or seem to communicate like we do, but she has expressed approval for the idea, and if she approves of it, I'm sure it can be done."
Minerva went back to her insufferable grin, here was her finest student, saying he could give a body to the spirit of a castle thousands of years old. And she'd be damned if she didn't believe he could do it. It was time to do what she and Fillius had been discussing for the past month, it was time to form the boy into a true sorcerer, like in the days of old. She nodded her approval.
Fillius just gave a deadly half-goblin grin, and Marchbanks was too overwhelmed to speak. Harry walked into the classroom that he and Flitwick often trained in, and made like he had started the last time he had met with the aged head of the Wizarding Examination Authority. He transfigured the entire floor of the room into chalk board, and began what would be easily his most complex conjuration to date.
The body he had in mind for the golem was one of delicate strength. It would stand slightly taller than Hagrid, but be a female form of understated curves. He had spent a bit of time looking at anatomy models since he got the idea, and once he got over the red-faced embarrassment of studying anatomical models of the female form in an academic context, he got a good idea of what he wanted. He could, and would, only do the very best work he was capable of doing for the Lady.
The skin of the golem was pure and unadulterated mithril, a material which he had found to be a kind of magically charged living mundane titanium. Inside that skin, he gave the golem a substance of liquid and living silver. It was the second strongest magically reactive material, and as an internal reservoir would give the golem an immense magical strength. It would also solve the need for joints and add flexibility and strength to the body.
The trouble of the conjuration would be ensuring that the whole golem would keep a solid and consistent form. Without magical direction, it would only be a heavy and disturbing water balloon. Much like the act that had earned Harry his transfiguration mastery, the minutia would have to be solved in the array he inscribed around the power circle. Each rune tied a different portion of the body form to the intention he had in mind, the difficulty of the conjuration was justified though by the massive pool of magic to draw from. It was a drop in the ocean of magic that the Lady commanded, but as a body it would give her more to work with, and would result in a physical form more powerful than any organic body by many orders of magnitude.
It was difficult for the fourteen year old to suppress, so his face colored as he crystallized his intention regarding the body. From the bottom up, the feet were perfectly and beautifully formed. The calves were a gentle curve up to the knees, and the thighs were thick and strong. The golem's pelvis was composed of a round and perfectly formed arse, and a groin that met an abdominal region in a nearly flat juncture. The Lady's avatar would have stomach muscles that were defined as if by an engineer with a laser guide, her bust modest and devoid of any awkward details. Her future body was without any awkward details. Her upper body and arms appeared to be muscled, but in proportion to the frame of the rest of the body. The head and face was entirely blank, but still had what appeared to be a feminine bone structure. Just above her right breast would be a Hogwarts crest composed of precious metals and stones.
The golem Harry planned was in essence, beautiful. It was just like Harry picture the love he felt from the castle, but in a corporeal form. It had an ethereal quality that was hard to put into words, but conversely not hard for him to put into a representation of intent surrounding a power circle.
Harry channeled an immense amount of magic into the circle. It had taken him some time, but he had finally grown to the point where he understood and appreciated his new and massive tie to magic. In this instance, the boy channeled magic to the very limit of his being into the circle. Permanently conjuring that amount of magically sensitive material placed a huge toll on even his abilities. Harry needed to get this right, and on the first try. This would put him near exhaustion, and he had a lot of spell work to do over the body once it was made real.
The Lady of the Castle was watching the work of one of her favored children with a keen eye. She had seen so many with so much promise come and go inside these walls. Some knew of her, some didn't, most carried a small piece of her out into the world with them. A representation of the time they had spent in her walls. She had an idea what went on beyond her wards, but she knew it wasn't her place to interfere. Hers was to make safe the halls, and watch over the children, her children.
This black haired and green eyed boy in the charms classroom was making her an excellent form. It would let her do what she had longed for the past several hundred years, run across her grounds and feel the soil her children used to plant living things run between her fingers. She longed to swim with her ancient tentacled friend in his lake, and to cuff her Peeves round the head for his antics. She smiled on Harry's work, and let her happiness glow around the boy as he worked.
There was a loud pop of displaced air, and before the four people in the room was a metal body of massive size, and great beauty. The mithril's surface was a constant bright silvery color, but as the light hit it sent of scintillating rainbow colors across the room. The adults gasped at what the boy had made, but the boy in question was grinning ear to ear. He hadn't been sure, but there she was before him, her form clothed in a light silver robe to give her some dignity.
Harry brandished his wand again, and spoke the words for spells of strengthening, self repair, and spell protection. The golem before him would never be touched by rain, sleet, snow, or spell fire while his work held. The Mithril and living silver drank in every ounce of power he poured forth into it, and with the strength and permanence of his casting, would continue to hold the his will for a long time to come. Harry had created a body that would outlast the British isles.
He had one last idea, but he was less sure of it than he had been of his ability to make what lay before him. Since last year and learning of the Fidelius charm that had protected his parents so poorly, Harry had been looking into it. He wanted to cast a fidelius over the body, and key it only to those who could be trusted with the Lady Hogwarts' secret. If the ministry knew of her in any depth the castle would be taken apart brick by brick by unspeakables. Ministries the world over would bid for pieces of her to study. Harry could not allow either of those things to come to pass. Harry formed his magic inside of himself to the shape it would take when he would cast the fidelius, and brought it outside his ruby and iron shields around his core. He pushed them towards the glow of the Lady's love, and did his best to send a sense of questioning.
Communication between Harry and the Lady was a little dicey. She had never failed to send him feelings or warnings as she desired, but Harry had a hard time sending information or feelings to her. Maybe it was how many years he had taken all of his feelings and information and hid them within himself. Long years of neglect left him focusing all he felt inside, and Harry had an inkling that was what was holding him at bay.
The Lady seemed to take hold of the magic he had tried to send her way, and she molded it. Harry couldn't describe what she had done to the intention, but it felt like she had improved his idea, made the constraints a little tighter, modifying the fidelius in the process.
With her improvements, Harry whispered Fidelius over the body, anchoring the spell in the soul of the castle itself. Marchbanks looked on dumbly, as if she had now seen too much from the boy in front of her. Flitwick and Minerva both seemed to be basking in feelings of pride for Harry's work. The Fidelius was an ancient and beyond difficult charm. The spell, arithmetically, was one of the most complicated you could find outside ritual work. Their prized student had just cast one at a whisper.
Harry leaned forward, and placed his palm of the Hogwarts crest. This would be his final act for the golem, then he could give in to his exhaustion and grab a nap. The fidelius was the nail in the coffin of his energy. He would have registered as magically exhausted on nearly any medical scan, if they could have seen through his safeguards that is.
Harry opened himself up inside, dropping his shields temporarily, and just extending his awareness out. The Lady met him at a point just outside himself, and using Harry's body and soul like a ladder, tasked a small part of herself to climb down into the body he had made her.
As she slipped into the body, feeling limbs, fingers, and toes for the first time in her very long life, the face of the golem grew definition. A graceful thin brow sketched itself across her forehead, forming above perfectly spaced almond shaped eyes, her lids closed. A small nose with a gentle upturn formed over her mouth, which was small but excellently proportioned with a seemingly permanent serene smile.
Her eyes fluttered open after a moment, revealing orbs of a unique and beautiful green. A gift from her to this form's creator, that as long as her body lasted, so would a little reminder of him.
As she finished assuming her new body, Harry had collapsed in exhaustion over her. He was pale and shook slightly, looking like he was on the edge of unconsciousness. She slowly sat up, making sure to not jostle the teenager. The Lady gathered him in her arms (She had arms! It was amazing and so new!) and rose to her feet. She turned and looked with brand new eyes on the three adults in the room. Minerva she smiled at. The transfiguration professor had known a speck of what was coming, but still looked torn between awe and utter surprise. The Lady loved Minerva, the woman had seen so much and lost so much, but she stood here teaching the next generation and giving of herself freely to them. The Lady walked to her and placed a tender kiss on the woman's brow.
Griselda Marchbanks. The Lady remembered her. Nearly two hundred years distant, she had been a very serious and no-nonsense student. She had taken top honors in each year, and had passed over the head girl position in favor of deeper study. She was as though carved from granite, tough as the earth itself and just as unmovable. Two massive wizarding wars, and the woman was still here, still ensuring the children were up to snuff. The Lady favored the aged witch's brow with a kiss.
Fillius Flitwick held his own special place in the Lady's heart. He was torn between his father's world of mines and blood, and his mother's world which would reject him at every turn. He had found his magic hard to control, and so had come to her bosom in a time of great personal upheaval to learn of himself and of his power. He had grown into a passionate and beautiful person, and the Lady loved him. He thought of his charges much like she did, they were kindred spirits in a way. She gave him a peck on the cheek.
The Lady left the stunned group behind her as she walked through herself (what an experience!) and brought the small wizard in her arms to his bed. He had earned his rest.
Harry woke late the next morning to hear an immediate pop out and back into the room. Dobby it seemed had been watching for him to wake up, and brought a light breakfast for Harry to his room. He stood next to the steaming tea, toast, and bacon, beaming at the young wizard in bed next to him.
Harry took much longer than usual to get all the way to consciousness. It was like this when he exhausted himself, getting back to the waking world was like running through thigh deep mud.
Harry gave his deepest thanks to his over-excited friend, and set in on breakfast. Harry was thankful he wasn't required to attend classes, after his exertions the previous day he was going to be useless for a while. He loved creating, like he had, it was made even sweeter for him that his work helped the Lady like it had, but getting himself magically exhausted sucked.
He had found that if he did it he could expand his core by something like ten percent, but every time he was exhausted it took him at least a day to get his feet back under him. Harry had things to do. Spending all day in bed was good for his reading and getting in nap time, but that was about it.
All round Harry's barrier layers Harry could feel the Lady of the Castle humming gently in excitement. She sent Harry a flash of what the body was up to, and Harry learned that the Lady had a very soft spot in her heart for herbology and gardening. Her body was currently in greenhouse seven replanting and caring for some of the scarier plant . Professor Sprout could often be heard complaining in a strained whisper about how few of her NEWT students could handle what had to be the single most deadly concentration of flora in the entire United Kingdom.
Harry smiled. He had done well.
The final task was at the end of June, mere days before the year let out. Harry had some time. Thankfully that was time he had a hundred dozen uses for.
Harry started the brewing of the tanning potion for his bracer. It would take him a full lunar cycle, and Harry had been lucky to be able to start it on the new moon of March 1st. Thankfully almost the entire process was simmering, Harry only needed a twelve hour time segment on the first day to get all of the complicated brewing out of the way. With a strong admonition to Freyr to ensure he stayed away from the gently boiling cauldron, Harry was set.
Harry had the Tebo leather set up and ready for tanning, and after an incredibly foolhardy mission out into the forbidden forest, Harry had a significant mass of acromantula silk. He had found a nice book, oddly enough not in the restricted section, on defensive charms that could be laid into the stuff, so Harry had the enchanted loom working full bore on the under layer of his bracer.
Sirius was becoming pretty insistent that they meet, his mail was filling with larger letters and exclamation points. His receiving his second mastery (the day after his work, shortly after he regained consciousness) had also given him some time off from his lessons with Minerva and Fillius, though they seemed to be scheming, so Harry decided to go and meet the old dog.
Padfoot had said he wasn't too far away, but didn't want to give his exact position, which Harry could respect. The odds of his mail being intercepted was low, Hedwig was smart to the point of being scary, any wizard who could take mail from her without her permission had really almost earned it. Sirius instead made a playing card a portkey, and let Harry know it was activated by the usual phrase. Harry went for a walk outside the Lady's wards, and activated it.
Portkeys were a terrible way to travel, he thought, as he picked himself up off the ground. When he had some time in the next few days, he resolved to look into the transport magic involved. There was no way on Ymir's body and bones that there wasn't a better way.
Harry landed in a clearing on the edge of a small village, and after he dusted himself off again he was assaulted and near squeezed to death by none other than England's most wanted.
"Prongslet! You have no idea how I've missed you! Bucky and I have been counting the days!"
"Padfoot! You brought a hippogriff into a mundane village?" Harry smiled broadly, "You can't be serious!"
Padfoot smiled and with a growl, "That's my joke, pup! But I like you so you get the first one free."
The two slapped backs and walked into the village together, the criminal leading the pair to a cafe near the center of the town. After Padfoot ordered the pair breakfast, they moved on to more (A/N: apologies) serious topics.
"Pup, I'm worried about you. I heard about the first and second tasks. If the dragon thing wasn't enough, you go and pull an animation charm so advanced that I'm not sure good ole' Merlin could replicate it. If I weren't talking to you the whole time I'd swear you were possessed by something. No offense pup, but you definitely did not have that skill when you and that lady friend of yours took my Bacon off the fire last year. I trust ya, but I gotta ask, what the hell?"
Harry took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. This one was gonna take a while. Off hand, he conjured a scrap of parchment and an inked quill. He needed Luna to know he wasn't making lunch. His meeting with Stubby Boardman was gonna take a while.
Harry started with what he had said to the Dursleys, and gave Sirius a good laugh with the threats of violence from him. That brought him to his trip to Diagonal, and the blood red leather bound volume that had changed his life so. From there the explanation covered more ground and simplified. Being in touch with magic had changed everything. Transfiguration was a mental exercise. Charms were all based in adding and subtracting intent and will from an object. Feeling his magic, knowing his core, had made everything an act of willpower. Harry had once been bit by a basilisk and fought off several hundred immortal beings of hate and sorrow. Willpower was something he was familiar with. Padfoot gaped at him, so Harry went for the finishing move, and pulled out his twin certifications as a master of both transfiguration and charms. He idly mentioned tea with his friend Griselda Marchbanks and munched on a piece of toast as his esteemed dogfather collected himself. Harry swore he heard the man whisper 'sorcerer'.
The old dog's fears thus allayed, and a small red volume passed between hands, they moved into what Harry considered the more significant conversation.
"Sirius, I have a seri-," damn it, Harry thought, "important question. Why didn't you or anyone else in all of magical Britain tell me that I'm the last Potter, and head of the ancient and noble house of Potter? Why in the nine hells didn't Dumbledore tell me when I was eleven like he was supposed to? What the hell am I supported used to do now that I am head of my own house? I've been studying. I know my rights, and the rights of my mates, and any protectorates of my house. I also know I can bring up the papers on charges of defaming me at my leisure. I haven't been doing anything because I'm afraid of what Dumbles is going to do when he finds out I am a lord and emancipated, but I need some advice. I can't trust anyone else but the goblins with this, and they are honor bound to not be involved in human politics," as much as Gemshaper and Ragnok wanted to, Harry added under his breath.
Padfoot went from smiling at Harry's near miss at his favorite joke in the world, to concern, anger, curiosity, back to concern. Harry wondered for a moment if it was just him or if he was provoking this kind of reaction more and more lately. Sirius snapped back into the conversation.
"That old goat-fucking beard-encrusted son-of-a-god-damned-banshee hag-molesting piece-of-beetle-filled-vipertooth-shite, I'm gonna take one of those frilly enchanted purple robes of his and shove it so far up his-"
"Woah! Padfoot! Calm the hell down!"
With a deceptively idle flick of his wrist, Harry shot a small notice-me-not ward around their table, folks around then had begun starting at Sirius' comments.
"Now I've been a little angry at him myself, I figured that if he couldn't wrangle you a trial, the least he could do was tell me who I am, but I haven't heard someone curse that profoundly since Fred and George explained to Ron they lied when they said that consumption of enchanted food was an elective course."
Sirius started cursing more under his breath, and Harry gave him a minute. He'd been in jail twelve years, the old dog would continue to have the benefit of the doubt given to him until Harry was convinced he went marauder and was taking advantage of it. After a few minutes of quiet toast munching, Sirius spoke up again.
"Harry, it's tough on me, but I forget you weren't raised magical. Children are beyond precious to us. Something about being magic depresses our ability to reproduce. It's not taught at Hogwarts because it's one of this base facts of life that it's assumed the parents tell their kids, and they're afraid if you tell the muggleborn straight off they'll just leave. The muggle-born are really kinda left behind on that one. In any case, it is the highest of laws that any scion of a noble house be taught immediately and in your situation by the best tutors regardless of politics about their heritage. I haven't asked because, honestly, it was unthinkable that you didn't know," he put a hand on Harry's across the table, "Pup, Lucy Malfoy himself would have been unbiased and taught you personally if he knew what you just told me. Dumbledore would be run out of town on a rail if the public knew what you had just asked me. I'm gonna need a moment here."
The two didn't say another word, Sirius slapped way too many bills on the table, and began leading Harry to a pub down the cobblestone village road from their café. Harry absent mindedly added about fifteen years to his face and body, and they entered the pub, quickly finding seats at the bar. Sirius but two hundred pounds on the bar and asked for the oldest whiskey they stocked. The bald and barely toothed (he reminded Harry of Tom from the Leaky Cauldron) barkeep put a bottle between this year's highest paying customers and stalked away, sensing a need for privacy. Harry shot off another notice-me-not, and after Sirius shot off three other things, the conversation resumed.
"Harry, in our world, the magical world, regardless of how you feel about being a pureblood or whatever, a most noble and ancient house means something. When our society began, a wizard named Merlin called together all of the most significant magical clans of the age, and we all signed a covenant binding our lives and our magic to the advancement and well-being of our people. The wizengamot was formed, it was supposed to be a group of the clan leaders and all of the greatest living heroes, that's why order or merlin first class holders get a vote. The Potters were one of those clans, so were folks like the Longbottoms and Bones'. You being head of the house means that you represent that tradition and that responsibility. It's your duty to promote the welfare of all the people of old Albion as best you see it. That's why the wizengamot is so contentious even during peacetime. All of the seats on the wizengamot, even the ones added since Merlin's time, are magically compelled to do the very best as they see it for our people. That is what it means to be head of your house. Now the stuffy old types have all of these forms of address and expressions of respect that they use for each other, but in the end what it means is duty to your people."
Harry picked up the glass Sirius had set in front of him, and sipped a small amount of it. He wasn't ready for heavy drinking and he knew it, but the conversation required something to take the edge off.
"Sirius... I... I don't want this. I want out," Harry sighed. He wanted more edge taken off, he didn't know how his dogfather would react to this.
"You know about how my time in the wizarding world has been spent. Voldemort and a Cerberus first year, an acromantula nest and a basilisk second, well, you and a herd of dementors third. Now this competition? I may gotten a lot better with magic, I may have masteries now I guess, but I've been here for four years and I've been in more danger than a decade of the Dursleys ever put me through. Being hit with the odd frying pan and starved is better than this. It's nice to have a duty, to know what my family name means, but I won't live to see sixteen at this rate."
His godfather finished the tumbler in front of him.
"I want to disagree. I want to tell you no. The magical world is so excellent, there is so much wonder, and you haven't seen any of it! But how can I? You're not wrong about what happened to you. I'm a wanted criminal."
The two shared a moment over their glasses. They each had a lot to think about. Padfoot broke the silence first.
"Okay then pup. Here is the plan. End of this year, you walk off of the platform and straight to the leaky cauldron. Fast as you can, floo from the Cauldron to that Potter property in Oz. Your dad and I went there summer after sixth. You, me, Moony, and that Lovegood lass," Harry colored, "we can all start over there. Make a new place for the Potters, Blacks, and Lovegoods. They don't know about any of this Voldemort crap out there."
"Just a year ago I would have wanted to stay. I had friends and stuff. But now? Let's do it. I'm not big on Moony, but I trust you. The Lovegoods aren't real big on Britain in general either, from what Luna says. This... maybe this will work?"
It was clear that was more a question than a resolution. Despite Harry being only fourteen, Sirius decided to play the godfather and poured him a second tumbler of the whiskey. The two made further plans, drank a little, and talked until the light left the sky and Harry needed to get back to Hogwarts. For the first time in a long time, Harry actually had a long term to look forward to.