Albus Dumbledore apparated onto the grounds of a stately manor, a square building built around a central courtyard. Walking to the double doors, he opened them to see Baraquiel walking passed, the Fallen Angel asked, "Here for Harry?"
"I'd like to talk to Azazel first, please," Albus said, following his senior by many years. They entered a room with a long pane of glass against one of the walls, Azazel was sitting, watching through the window, and didn't seem to pay any attention when Albus sat down, only to say, "Hello, Albus."
"Azazel," Albus said, "you scared me when you took Harry from his aunt and uncle's home,"
"Well, the kid is my godson, and you know how they feel about magic. The kid was locked in a cupboard with a necktie wrapped around his eyes, you know?"
Albus breathed in deeply, before saying through gritted teeth, "No, I hadn't been aware of that. I didn't expect Harry to be happy there, but I expected him to be treated with some decency while we figure out what to do with Lily and James."
"Still nothing?"
"They're frozen in place, as is the entire cottage. It hasn't aged a day or begun to fall into disarray despite the lack of living inhabitants. You mentioned a tie, how is it anything different from the blindfold he's wearing now?"
Sure enough, down in the sparring ring Harry, who was wearing a sleeveless shirt that seemed to hug every abdomen, exposing his toned arms, was dueling with another boy his age, sending out a barrage of kicks and punches, only to be intercepted more often than not.
"Oh, he chooses to wear that. I enchanted it so he could see through it without risking exposing people to Forbidden Balor View."
"What type of martial arts are they practicing?"
"Harry's using Wadō-Ryū Karate, while Suguru is using Jeet Kune Do. Harry generally prefers to go on the attack when he has to fight, while Suguru prefers the defensive.
"Neither of them are using any powers they've gained?"
"This is a pure hand to hand exercise. We like to keep them well trained in a full range of combat. Harry, there's someone here to see you."
---
"So," Harry swung for Suguru while he was talking, who arm locked him and sent a punch for his side. Maneuvering around it, Harry used his free hand to send an open palm into Suguru's chest, causing him to give an "oof" and let go, "You and Tharja should be going to Hogwarts soon, right?"
"Any day now, yeah. How do you feel about going to Mahoutokoro?"
"It's irritating. I prefer my Sacred Gear over regular magic."
"Harry, can you and Tharja come up to the command room?"
"Sounds like today," Harry said, stopping their fight and walking out of the training room, "Take care of Team Balor while I'm gone, ok?"
"Of course," Suguru said, nodding. Harry draped his Nephilim coat over his shoulders and stepped outside to see Tharja standing there waiting for him, biting her thumb.
"Ready?"
"I suppose," she said, falling in just behind Harry.
They entered the observation room to see Azazel, Baraquiel and a man with a long, silvery beard and half moon spectacles, wearing a maroon suit.
"Hello Harry, Tharja" Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.
"Hello Professor Dumbledore," Harry said politely.
"Hello," Tharja said, voice dark.
"Is there something wrong?" Dumbledore asked.
"Don't worry about that, she likes to lean into the dark witch aesthetic. She's Team Balor's expert on curses and darker magic. Comes naturally to her, with her Sacred Gear."
"And what Sacred Gear is that, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Black Blood," Tharja said, letting a little well to the surface through her pores, "My very blood is curses, Professor, it is only natural I study curses."
"Well, so long as you don't use them on any students, I won't discourage the habit," Dumbledore said. Though Harry could see some warriness in his eyes, "it is, after all, the intent of the user that matters in magic. Shall we get going?"
"Pull money from the Grigori account to pay for their stuff, ok? They're technically our agents, even if the most dangerous mission they've been sent on is to find a nogtail for Suguru to absorb."
"Something to do with his Sacred Gear I assume?"
"Yeah," Azazel said, before waving at Harry and Tharja, "See you in a couple of hours, kiddos."
—
Tharja walked behind Harry and Dumbledore, biting her thumb. This was it, they were going to Hogwarts together, they'd have plenty of alone time!
"Harry, Thajra!" A voice called, and they turned to see Cherche running towards them, her enchanted halberd collapsed on her back, "Finally getting ready to go to Hogwarts?"
"Oh, you know Miss Wyrma?" Dumbledore asked.
"She's a member of Team Balor. What are you doing here, Cherche."
"Selling off various leftovers from Minerva. Dung, some blood, you know the stuff. Anyways, I should get back to Nephilim. Good luck getting your stuff, Harry, Tharja!"
Right, there was the hitch of a second year.
They walked into the disgustingly reflective marble of Gringotts, walking towards a goblin at a booth. Tharja noticed Harold rise up around Harry's feet, a pair of red eyes opening to stare warily.
"Harry Potter and Tharja Nekros to access the Grigori vault," Dumbledore said, and the goblin heaved out a massive book, flipping through it until he stopped on the last page.
"I see, they're allowed to do so," the goblin said curtly, "anything else?"
"Yes," Dumbledore handed over a letter. The goblin used it's long, dagger like finger to slit open the envelope, and pulled out the contents, eyes speeding across it.
"Very well," the goblin said, before calling loudly, "Griphook!"
Another goblin came over, taking a note from the first and reading it.
"Come along."
Secrets, whatever this was about, it had a dark tone to it, and knowing Harry, they would spend the year hunting for whatever it was.
Their first stop was a blank wall, which the goblin ran its finger along and caused it to fold open. Dumbledore quickly swept in, grabbing the small package on the floor before storing it in his robe.
Harry didn't bother to ask the question burning in his eyes of what it was, so Tharja followed in turn.
Their next stop was a vault on the bottom most floor of Gringotts. Walking up to it, the goblin turned no less than twenty nobs to certain positions before the door opened, revealing the Grigori's near endless supply of money. Both Thajra and Harry filled up their coin purses to the brim, before turning to find four guards pointing halberd at them.
"What's the meaning of this?" Dumbledore asked.
"Our charms detected the presence of a Obscurus, we're here to eliminate it "
"Oh, that," Harry said," I can't believe it."
"That you would get caught, obscurial?"
"No," Harry said. Harold rising around him as he tugged down his blindfold, "that you thought four was enough to beat us."
"Harry is an Obsucrial?" Dumbledore asked in anguish.
"It's more complicated than that, headmaster," Thajra said, "Harry did the seemingly impossible. He bound his own Obsucrus to himself as a familiar. It feeds on a small amount of his magic each day, and in return-" Harry thurst a hand out, shadowy clouds billowing forth and wrapped around the goblins and slammed them into the wall, freezing them in time as Harold retreated, he turned his eyes to Griphook just before pulling up his blindfold "-it does as he wills. We call it Harold"
"Bring us back to the surface," Harry ordered.
—
Garrick Olivander watched the three step into ths building, examining the two who had stepped in. One was blindfolded, but seemed to look around nonetheless, ans going by the scar…
"Harry Potter?" Garrick said quietly, and his head turned towards Garrick.
"Yes, sir. And you're Garrick Olivander, son of the Fallen Angel Amy."
"You're well informed, I don't advertise that fact."
"We work with Grigori," Harry said with a shrug.
"I see," Garrick said, "have you seen my mother?"
"Couple of times, she stops into HQ, normally she's too busy ruling her part of the Underworld."
"Which, I must say, I appreciate you coming here instead of a wand maker in the Underworld.
"Olivander's is famous even there. Now, can we get on with this?"
"Yes, yes, of course." Garrick sent out his measuring tape and began to study both of them. The girl seemed to curl in on herself, while Harry stood with his hands at his sides… Let's see… "For you… Miss?"
"Nekros," she said, "Thajra Nekros."
"Miss Nekros, I can tell, you're already deeply intwind with Dark Arts."
"My Sacred Gear causes that," is all she said.
"Yes, here you go. Blackthorn and unicorn hair, a rare combination, but Blackthorn is often associated with the Dark Arts while Unicorn hair makes it better at subtle magic. Subtle curses, I assume your Sacred Gear allows you to do the unsubtle."
She swung her wand, and wand and wielder found themselves matched.
"Next, Mr. Potter…Elder and Phoenix Feather."
Harry flicked it, and once again a bond formed.
"You have trials ahead of you, so many and so numerous that many would call you unlucky."
"I'd call that someone with great destiny," Harry said, without boast.
"Quite so, destiny will call to your door, and you wi be waiting for them. Wands of Elder are said to never prosper, but I find that it's more that the wielder can't handle the weight of destiny."
