[Harry Potter / Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha] OUROBOROS

[Nitramy]

Author's note: it is only a coincidence that I equated Scathach's teachings to that of Kiichi Hogen before the latter showed up in the FGO Little Big Tengu event.

***

Once the last of the lectures were done with and everyone was being sent home with souvenirs and novelties, Snape and Harry still had a good chunk of a week left in Japan before their flight home, as the trip to Japan was booked for two weeks, not one.

During one of those days, Snape and Harry found themselves watching their bodyguard training his two children in swordsmanship.

Kyouya and Miyuki were remarkable for their age, but Harry had spent some time under the tender care of the Witch of Dun Scaith, so it seemed a little underwhelming to him.

Harry found himself daydreaming a bit watching the spar, and barely noticed that the patriarch of the house had taken up a seat beside him.

"Not interested?" he asked, and Harry was in awe at how the man was able to just vanish from the senses without warning.

Even I need a second to use my advanced sensor suite to pick him up. This guy is good.

"Your kids are great, but…"

"I read your profile; this level of sparring would definitely bore someone who learned from your country's equivalent of… the great Kurama tengu."

That we didn't read about.

Yet.

"Once my children have completed their daily training, do you want to spar, Mr. Potter?"

This is a bad idea.

Which is why I don't want you backing me up. I'm putting every lesson the Witch carved onto my body to the test here.

Your funeral.

You think so? He is our bodyguard. Lady Fujiwara vouched for him, said it was a sad thing to see him retire. He'll know how to pull his punches.

Harry, I've made an observation… but I'll save it for after he wipes the floor with you.

The outcome isn't relevant. I just want to stretch these muscles out.

Again, your funeral.

***

Half an hour later, an exhausted but smiling Harry Potter was lying on the dojo floor, his body pockmarked with bruises while he yet held the bo staff he chose to use in lieu of a spear.

"You're really some kind of adrenaline junkie, aren't you, Potter?" Snape asked, the disappointment in his tone unable to hide the amusement in his eyes.

I was about to say combat junkie, but this works too.

"Can I say I thought there would be some exhibition duels in Mahoutokoro?" Harry asked back. "Oh, right. I forgot."

He sprang to his feet and bowed to his opponent.

"Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Takamachi."

"To someone with your potential? Please, do call me Shirou."

Several hours later, as the Takamachi family were enjoying some tea after the spar, Shirou and Harry were still picking each other's brains about their combat techniques.

"My darling has always been an analytical fighter," Takamachi Momoko said with a sigh. "He hasn't had the chance to speak with someone who just fights for the joy of it for quite some time, so… your apprentice has lit up a fire in him I thought that had already gone dormant."

"Apologies, Mrs. Takamachi," the potions master said. "It's odd, though. The kind of strikes Harry was taking…"

"Yes. After he took the first blow, it was like he knew he wasn't in any danger, and focused on learning all he could, whether it be by avoiding, blocking, or taking my husband's strikes… Your apprentice also pulled back all his own blows at the last moment, as if he knew about my darling's condition…"

"We will have words," Snape told Harry, but before he could continue, Momoko gave him a look and shook her head gently.

"Worry not, Professor Snape," the Takamachi family matriarch said. "Harry is in his element here. Should you decide to… have words… with him, it's best that you let him come down from his high first."

Snape took a glance at the two children talking about something called a "play station" in the living room, then back to Momoko.

"I will take your words under advisement, ma'am," he said solemnly, just as he decided to spend the rest of the day picking his reading back up.

***

The rest of the week went uneventfully, and near the close of their trip, Severus Snape found himself transfixed with a very different kind of magic: the kind of magic that was Akihabara.

Shops filled with things related to Japanese animation and video games, arcades, appliance stores, electronics, and many other things – it was a paradise of colored lights and fancy sounds, a spectacle even to someone as well-traveled as Hogwarts' resident potions master.

On the train back to Uminari, the thing that had been bugging Snape finally came to him.

"Potter," he whispered as the train chugged along, "how are you able to find your way around a place like that?"

Harry grinned.

"My folks went to Tokyo before I did."

Snape was about to say something about Harry's parents, but then remembered Lily's sister.

"The Dursleys?"

"What, you don't think they're my family, when you took the biggest share of Aunt Petunia's baked ziti in the Hogwarts' faculty Yule potluck?"

That got him to nod.

"That reminds me, Albus told me that Petunia just dropped everything after Lily's passing, even her hobbies. What got her to start cooking again?"

"Way my aunt explains it, she got a wake-up call around when I was what, five, six, seven years old? And yeah, about those things you heard about me being made to cook for the Dursleys? That's a bit inaccurate: Aunt Petunia is teaching me and Dudley."

"Is teaching… you mean she's still teaching you?"

"Yes, Professor. She says we're about half as good as she was when she was our age," Harry thought aloud with a smile. "Thought it would just be a hobby like hers, but who knew her insistence on perfection in cooking bled over into Potions?"

The train slowed to a stop at the station, and Snape took a moment to think before he nodded.

"Always thought the Dursleys were bad news for you. It seems I've been proven wrong."

"Never too late to turn the ship around, so Uncle Gil likes to say," Harry said as the train moved onto the next station.

Severus Snape made a mental note to write a few more notes onto his old book for Harry to find later, when he could.

***

It was planned by the Headmaster that Snape and Harry would return to Hogwarts discreetly, then have their achievements announced at the Halloween feast at the end of the month.

Due to this, Harry and Snape spent a few more days in Japan, most of it sightseeing and purchasing souvenirs. Snape even got a chance to do a guerilla guest lecture in Mahoutokoro or two before the time came for them to return.

"You look different, Severus," the headmaster of Hogwarts said upon the two entering his office via the secret tunnels in the castle. "You too, Harry. I assume Mahoutokoro has been good to you two."

"It has, Headmaster," Snape said. "Teaching Defense even for a few weeks has done you good as well."

"Indeed," Dumbledore replied with a smile. "Unfortunately, after the Halloween feast, the students of Hogwarts will now have to make do with you."

"I'll do my best to fill in your shoes, Headmaster," Snape drawled back, but Harry could see that his eyes were filled with mirth. "Anyway, for my preliminary report on the ICP symposium held at Mahoutokoro, I was given the chance to run several official lectures, and with the extra days afforded to me, I was able to ask for several other unofficial lectures, much to the delight of the Mahoutokoro staff…"

***

And sure enough, when the Halloween feast came, the actual professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts is revealed, none other than Severus Snape.

"Is THAT Professor Snape?" a Ravenclaw near where Harry was seated asked, but when Harry turned to him, he didn't see the seventh-year's mouth move.

Whoa, those were his thoughts!

Exactly. This is the kind of problem one tends to have with learning legilimency: you let go of your occlumency a bit, and then you're suddenly this giant mind-reading antenna getting signals from everyone around you. Can't be helped, though; people do have some intense thoughts.

Yep, you're right. Man. That extra week at Mahoutokoro did wonders for Professor Snape, now that I think about it. He still looks like a dungeon bat… but now he pulls off the look with class.

You'd think it was Mahoutokoro that got him doing that, but no. Takamachi Momoko was very insistent on helping out Professor Snape with his look… now that I think about it, that was the price we really had to pay for Mr. Takamachi's hospitality.

Well, we can tell the Breakfast Club all about our adventures while sharing our spoils from Japan with them tomorrow.

Yep. That's the general idea.

The rest of the Halloween feast went without incident, though Harry knew that the other shoe would drop pretty soon, as it tended to do in situations like this.

For now, though, Harry Potter would simply enjoy the party.

***

 

[Nitramy]

***

First of the Month

***

While the students entered November with the trepidation that came with Severus Snape teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, their worries turned out to be a fat load of nothing.

He was still very strict in teaching, but to Harry, it seemed that something had him spooked: his Defense classes were all about the mentality of the Dark Arts, and how to best resist their siren call.

I mean, who else would be the best to know about it like an actual former Death Eater?

Fair point. He's also building a lot of his lessons from Moody's stories from the previous year. The only other time we've seen this kind of continuity is with Professor Lupin and the witch.

Of note was one lecture Harry sat in, when Professor Snape, of all people, went on an impromptu tangent about why Death Eaters tended to use the Unforgivables more often than most.

He looked around the room when Snape posited the question, and noted that only Neville raised his hand.

"Longbottom," he said, and the sixth-year Gryffindor stood up.

"It's to elicit fear, Professor," Neville replied, and kept going after being gestured to continue by the momentarily-surprised professor. "You yourself said that the muggles' appraisal of the Death Eaters as 'terrorists' is more accurate than they think, and what other way to raise fear among the populace other than spells that were deemed 'unforgivable' by the Ministry?"

"A very insightful answer, Longbottom. Twenty-five points to Gryffindor."

Now that was novel.

Word quickly spread around the school about how Professor Snape had turned around his teaching style, but Harry knew better: he was applying how he operated with Harry as his apprentice towards classes of twenty or more people.

That aside, nothing much took place across November and December, and much to Harry's relief, he was able to go through the holidays without much drama.

It's when classes return to their usual pace that Harry found himself in the headmaster's office, as Professor Snape was giving Professor Dumbledore the requisite monthly appraisal of his schoolwork.

"…and that's all. If Harry keeps this up, he's going to be due for at least seven NEWT masteries, probably more. However, that's not what you brought me and Harry for, right, Albus?"

"That is so," the headmaster replied, before turning to Harry. "Throughout December, Horace has been giving me reports about how you have been, and I quote, 'physically distressed when attending Potions classes'. What spurred me into action is him airing his concerns about you maintaining your NEWT-level performance throughout the year."

Harry wavered a bit.

"I find it uncomfortable to take classes with Professor Slughorn," he declared. "He feels… slimy."

That response surprised the two professors.

"What do you mean, slimy? Like, toad slimy?"

Harry fought the urge to chuckle. "No, that would be the presently indisposed Dolores Umbridge."

Dumbledore and Snape did chuckle, which broke down Harry's defenses, getting him to let out the laugh he had been holding in.

"I mean, sir," Harry clarified once he had gotten that laugh out of his system, "that Professor Slughorn feels like too much hair gel, that muggle product they use to stiffen hair…"

He trailed off before closing his eyes. "I don't know… Professor Snape always had that obsidian feeling, while you're like a wall of mist, Professor Dumbledore."

This time, the response was met with far less amusement.

"Harry, if you would, please keep Fawkes company for a while," the headmaster said with his typical kind voice, though Harry could easily feel the insistence under it. "It is his feeding time, and he is in a parsley state of mind right now."

"Of course, Professor," Harry said, grabbing the sprigs on the table before leaving.

After closing the office door behind him and making his way to the phoenix, Fawkes was still giving him a stinkeye until the bird noticed the sprigs of parsley he was holding.

"Sorry Professor Dumbledore couldn't make it, Fawkes," Harry said before handing out a sprig. "Hope you'll be okay with me."

The phoenix stared into Harry's eyes and onto Ouroboros in pendant form for what seemed to be an eternity before nodding and allowing himself to peck at the sprig of parsley offered to him.

Once the last sprig of parsley was eaten, the imperious way Fawkes looked at Harry and his Device returned. He was about to ask Ouroboros what was going on when he heard the voice of Dumbledore from within the office.

Back inside, Harry took the seat he was in before, and this time, the headmaster looked stern.

"It seems I have been a bit too lenient with you, Mr. Potter," he began. "I am loath to put an additional burden onto your studies, but it seems your potential for the mind arts has been growing unchecked as of late."

"Mind arts? Potential? Unchecked?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That is so," the headmaster replied. "As Professor Snape is directly responsible for your academic progress here, I will have him resume his lessons in Occlumency to you… which I will evaluate myself at the start of each month."

Oh shit.

My thoughts exactly.

Harry was caught on the back foot but was able to ask a question.

"May I ask why, sir?"

And just like that, Professor Dumbledore went back to his usual persona as he answered Harry's question.

"You will understand the need for this eventually. All you need to know is that such abilities in the mind arts of one so young as you… this power and its potential for misuse is very high… and as such, it needs to be trained so it can be used appropriately."

"All right, Professor. I'll do my best."

"That's the spirit. Keep it up and you might beat out the school's record for NEWTs. No one has done more than eight."

Harry nodded, and with a gesture, he and Professor Snape were dismissed.

As they were walking through the school corridors, the Defense professor spoke two words.

"Passive legilimency."

"Is that what the headmaster was worried about?"

"That's right. As far as I know, the only way to keep you from picking up the thoughts and personalities of others is to strengthen your occlumency. That is what we'll be working on, and that's what we'll need to show Albus so you can stay being an apprentice of the school."

"Okay, and just like what I told the headmaster, I'm going to do my best."

Snape let out a breath.

"You do not know the depths of trouble you are in at the moment," he explained. "The last student here that had this much potential in the mind arts? You should know him; his name was Tom Riddle."

It took him a moment before he realized who Snape was talking about.

"Oh."

From there on, the walk back to Snape's office was silent.

***

An Ordinary Hogsmeade Weekend (Zenpen)

***

The rest of January passed without much incident; the headmaster did test Harry out on his mastery of the mind arts, and true to form, the sixth-year Hufflepuff-in-name-only was able to keep his legilimency sealed enough.

On the way back to the apprentice's quarters, Snape could not hide the amusement in his eyes as he walked side by side with a swaggering Harry.

"This is just the first month, Potter."

"I know, professor. At least now, Professor Dumbledore won't be wasting any more of his time on me, and he can do other things."

"He will. I also know that another weekend at Hogsmeade is coming up. Given your confidence, you're going to give your occlumency a dry run out in real life, aren't you?"

"You don't need to be a legilimens to know that, Professor. Besides, I'll be fine; I'll be with the Phoenix chicks this time. They raised a stink because I was with the Slytherins last time at Hogsmeade."

"Yes, and don't give me a reason to keep you from these weekends."

"Of course, Professor. As the great Auror Harry Callahan once said, 'man's gotta know his limits'."

"Dirty Harry wasn't an Auror."

"I know, Professor, but the point remains."

***

Harry was just about to wrap up his night at Hogsmeade and make his way back to Hogwarts; the Golden Trio were still in Madam Puddifoot's and on their double date.

He had his suspicions that he was the third wheel (or is that fifth, since there was four of them), which were confirmed when Neville's date showed up.

Hannah Abbot almost turned around and stepped out the moment she caught a glimpse of him, remembering what Hufflepuff House put her up to at the start of the year, but Harry just took his butterbeer, gave her a toast, and stood up off the table they were in.

He gave her a slight bow before pacing out of the restaurant and making his way to Rosmerta's pub, where he thought of making himself visible and maybe enjoy the company of a classmate or two.

Alas, that was not to be, as an hour passed with nobody paying attention to the wizard at the bar quietly sipping on his butterbeer.

While Harry was waiting for someone or anyone to walk over and start a conversation with him, he was busy drinking away his annoyance at how the weekend had gone so far, and that feeling of creeping dread he was already used to whenever something was about to happen.

With his tab paid, Harry walked out of the pub, intending to spend the rest of the failed weekend back at Hogwarts and maybe work on his occlumency more.

That was when he spotted someone familiar – he had seen Crabbe and Goyle at the impromptu gaming tables at Rosmerta's earlier and paid it no mind, so what was Draco doing hanging around outside?

Frustration and boredom led Harry to doing something he thought was very 'Weasley twins'; with a muttered command to his Device to muffle his movement, he circled around in the shadows, made his way towards Draco…

…and dispelled the spell's effect as he put a hand on the other young man's shoulder.

"Draco," Harry said at the same time, but Draco was so absorbed at looking within the pub, so he reacted in a very atypical way.

He shrieked like a soprano and almost leaped up several feet into the air.

"POTTER!" he yelled at a laughing Harry. "Don't do that, you nearly scared me out of my skin!"

"Nice night to be out and about or something. Why aren't you with Pansy?" he asked, and with the way Draco recoiled to his question, Harry immediately knew what was up.

"She was with her friends today. And you shouldn't have scared me like that! If this thing had gotten onto you…"

Draco eep'ed as he knew that he said something he shouldn't have, and before he could dig himself in deeper, Harry threw an arm around his shoulder.

"We've got something to talk about, don't we, Draco?" Harry asked, and in the moonlight, his widening grin was a lot more unnerving to see.

He nodded, and Harry began to swagger towards the Hog's Head, his arm still around Draco's shoulder, showing off his off-key singing voice as he sang some Muggle song about couples, going into an even more off-key falsetto as he sang the girl's part in the duet, too.

***

Once he had secured a table at the inn, he asked for two kegs of butterbeer, and was now looking at Draco Malfoy like a cat playing with a mouse it just caught.

"So, what's with that thing you're carrying around, Draco?" Harry asked slowly while they were waiting for the drinks he ordered.

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," Draco replied evasively.

"Look, Draco," Harry explained, his voice still low but filled with urgency. "You know about those cursed quills Umbridge used to punish those students last year, right? Heck, you almost got a detention with her! You saw what it did to Torrance, and she's a fellow Slytherin!"

"I know!" Draco exclaimed, before deflating. "I know… but…"

"Drinks are here," the man at the bar said, and when the butterbeers were placed on the table, Harry goggled a bit – he'd never been to the Hog's Head before, and the man looked a lot like the headmaster.

Still, Harry gathered a bit of himself, and gestured to the man that he had the situation under control.

"If you need anything else, just holler," the man said before going back to his spot behind the bar.

Harry turned back to Draco as he silently asked his Device to put up a wall of silence to keep others from listening in to their conversation further.

"Draco. Listen to me," Harry said. "I met your father back at Monaco. He asked me to keep an eye out for you. If you're trying to pull something…"

"…Dumbledore," Draco whispered.

"What's the headmaster got to do with this?" Harry asked, only now noticing Draco's shoulders shaking.

"I can't have the Dark Mark until I assassinate Professor Dumbledore," Draco admitted. "If you say my father asked for your help… you're going to help me out here, right?"

Harry made a face as he found himself in quite the predicament.

***

A/N: The song Harry was (butterbeer) drunkenly singing is "Nobody" by Keith Sweat. And yes, Harry gets tipsy drinking butterbeer. It's psychosomatic, as he HAS drunk beer before (during holidays with the Dursleys, [sarcasm]those damned evil irresponsible muggles [/sarcasm]), and pairs the feeling of drinking actual beer with butterbeer.

 

[Nitramy]

Here's part 7 of year 6. Also, there is a reference to American Psycho and Bocchi the Rock! here, try to find them.

***

An Ordinary Hogsmeade Weekend (Kouhen)

***

If this was the Old West, I think this is what one of those high noon showdowns would feel like, Harry told his Device. What kind of idiot would order his would-be minions to do such a high-profile thing?

The kind of idiot who partitioned his soul seven times.

Harry sighed.

"Do you need to do it now or do you need time to pull it off?" he asked.

"Does that mean you're going to help me?" Draco asked back, but Harry shook his head. "Or is your loyalty to Dumbledore leading you to betray me despite your promise to my father?"

For a moment, the entire pub's eyes were at them, as Harry pounded the table with his palms as he stood up.

"Draco," he said, menace tinging his words, "let me be absolutely clear to you about one thing."

Once everyone went back to minding their own business, Harry sat back down.

"The only allegiance I have that I will not break under any circumstances is my allegiance to Hogwarts. That is all, and nothing more."

"But my father…"

"Your father knows this, and he asked for my help anyway. He also told me… if possible, I should keep you from joining that little club of hooligans."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise and outrage, but with the intensity of Harry's gaze, he stopped short, and just slumped on his seat as he took another swig of butterbeer.

Several minutes of uncomfortable silence passed between them as Harry and Draco processed what the other told them.

"I think I have a plan," Harry said at last. "The first thing you need to do is ask the Death Eaters for more time. There isn't anything happening at Hogwarts right now, so anything you do will paint a huge target on you, as well as your friends."

"They aren't my—"

"Draco, my uncle taught me one important thing: don't try to con a conman. You were the only one to volunteer to get initiated so your entourage wouldn't have to, am I wrong?"

Draco Malfoy's lowered head was all the answer Harry needed.

"I knew it. Anyway, the plan requires you to go along with them. Then, at the right moment… you fail. I get to contact the good guys, the Death Eaters get entrapped, and you can say you don't know anything about being outmaneuvered, because you really were. Also, we'll need a good secondary objective you can claim that will get you in the good graces of the fan club you'll be joining."

Harry's grin widened maniacally.

"And from there, you become my man in their organization."

Draco swallowed heavily.

"Once all is said and done, I am going to sing praises of the undercover Slytherin who risked life, limb and family to restore his lineage's good name, leaving you smelling like roses."

"…you thought this through, didn't you?" Draco asked.

"Ever since Monaco," Harry answered, and that was the moment he knew that Harry already had him. "If you'll go all in with this, you're going to look so great that they're going to ignore everything you and your father have done up to this point."

"There's just one thing that confuses me here," Draco said with a nod. "Why do all this for me? Why not get any prestige for yourself?"

Harry shrugged before taking a chug of his butterbeer.

"What good will any of that be when I'm not going to be in Wizarding Britain by the end of next schoolyear?"

The question was still echoing in Draco Malfoy's mind even as he met with his fellow Slytherins and walked back to Hogwarts, the cursed object tucked safely away in a mokeskin pouch, not to be used that night.

***

Spellcraft 101

***

The remedial defense classes were going so well to the point where Harry didn't need to actually teach; Neville, Ron and Hermione were doing good enough work on their own.

Which meant that he finally had the opportunity to work with Ginny Weasley on creating their own spells.

The fifth-year Gryffindor had been standoffish when meeting him, as she couldn't quite reconcile the thoughtful Harry Potter with the larger-than-life character Harold Graham.

It didn't help that when he was taking care of the Order headquarters, he acted in a way that was close to the opposite of how he did in Hogwarts: Harry was quiet, fond of reading, and generally kept to himself while out of school.

In Hogwarts, however, Harold Graham was a character. Everything he did was with maximum pomp and panache, as if he was the Harry Potter those storybooks portrayed him as.

These remedial defense classes and spellcraft projects were a chance for Ginny to find out who the real Harry Potter was – their mild-mannered landlord, the bombastic Harold Graham, or someone in between?

Their first class almost ended disastrously, as she thought that getting Harry Potter to go on a date with her would elevate her status among the student body – but it backfired.

She remembered what Harry said when revealing there was a third goblet: "don't try to go against a Sicilian when death is on the line, Ginny."

It confused her so, until she asked her father the Muggle Studies expert, who said it was a line from a movie.

Their work together was strained after that, until Ginny finally threw all pretense to the wind and asked him directly.

"Are you really too busy to be looking for love here at Hogwarts, Harry?" she finally asked just as one of their spellcraft sessions wound down to an end.

Harry's response stunned her: he just gave her a sad smile and nodded.

"It's not like that at all, Ginny," Harry replied. "Have you ever admired someone so much, but see that you have nothing you are good enough at to gain her attention or her affection?"

At the time, Ginny was too surprised to notice her heart breaking, but she eventually thought of something to say.

"Well, there's me and how I think of you, being this amazing wizard and all," she answered, and Harry did something strange again: he laughed.

"Yep," he said with a smile. "It really does look like that when you see it from that point of view. Like… I don't know, seeing you kind of helps me understand myself. I mean, I've accomplished some things, but I don't think it will ever suffice for what I want."

"And what do you want in a girl, Harry Potter?"

"My standards are beyond your comprehension or understanding, Miss Weasley," Harry replied with a teasing lilt in his voice, and this was when Ginny realized Harry would never see her as anything but a friend.

She swore Hermione to lifetime secrecy later that it was the only time she cried out of heartbreak, but when she took some time to think about it, she didn't want to spend her life chasing after someone chasing after someone else.

"Yeah, you would look like one of those cartoons I watched as a kid," Hermione mused, much to their amusement.

From there, Harry did find a friend in Ginny, who was often Harry's interpreter about how girls thought, spoke, and acted.

Who knew the Weasley girl would be such a huge help?

I know, right? It's a good thing for us that she was able to understand.

I don't think she knows the person you're referring to.

I think she does, though. She just hasn't processed it yet.

***

Memories Broken

***

At the close of yet another month of schooling, Harry and Snape were summoned by the headmaster.

"No, Headmaster, I am the last person you should be asking for help to butter up Professor Slughorn," Harry said. "I can only tolerate being in his presence for ninety minutes at a time, four times a week. Try someone who can't figure out just how slimy he is. Maybe Longbottom or Weasley, sir."

The headmaster sighed.

"Well, if you are unwilling to help directly, maybe indirectly…?"

That seemed to light an idea in Harry's mind, and while gathering his thoughts for several minutes, looked to the floor and ceiling.

"Wait, I think I got it," he said after five minutes had passed, and the headmaster was talking about other matters with the Defense professor.

"What do you have?" Professor Snape asked.

"It's in one of those spy novels, how they get information without interrogating their subject too hard. It's a mental trick you don't need to be a legilimens for: just use what you think your subject knows against him. What information were you seeking from Professor Slughorn?"

"That is classified, Mr. Potter."

"Okay, okay…" Harry answered, then resumed thinking aloud. "So… if you want that information, wouldn't it be better if you just approached him as if you already knew the information and just need him to verify it?"

Professor Snape's eyes widened while the headmaster's eyes twinkled.

"What's more important here is how comprehensive that information is. Educated guesses, filling the blanks, let the guy do the dirty work for you. Professor Slughorn is also rather vain; play to that and I think you'll be more successful."

Once Harry was done, he was ordered into the waiting room carrying several sprigs of thyme and told to feed Fawkes once again.

"I hope what I said helped," Harry told the phoenix as he handed out a sprig of thyme towards it. "What could Professor Slughorn know that's so important to them?"

Fawkes shook his head very deliberately.

"If it's that important, then I'm not going to pry any further, Fawkes."

It was around ten minutes after the last of the sprigs of thyme were fed to Dumbledore's familiar when Professor Snape stalked out of the office.

"We're going to try it your way for now," he declared. "But if this doesn't work, Albus and I are going to put it on your shoulders to try and get that information out of him."

Harry nodded solemnly.

"Understood, sir."

One month after that meeting, Headmaster Dumbledore gave him the good news: Professor Slughorn finally cooperated, and thus the pensieve memory was completed. Of course, the contents of said pensieve was off-limits to Harry, which he didn't much care about.

What he cared about more was the ominous feeling going all over him… if that was good news, why was Harry feeling uneasy, as if there was something missing that he and Ouroboros somehow forgot?

***

An Ordinary Red Rock

***

"All this," Harry Potter grumbled as he pushed past a stone door into what looked like an abandoned storeroom, "for some rock?"

"It's the 'Philosopher's Stone', Harry," Neville Longbottom replied. "And we have to find it while Mr. and Mrs. Flamel are here, otherwise it will become inactive and truly lost."

"Remind me again how you lot shanghaied me into this?" Harry asked. "Don't bother answering; a rhetorical question."

"You sound a lot like Professor Snape when you're annoyed."

"Well, I AM his apprentice."

"And it was from his direction that you ended up here."

Harry sighed.

"At least I get a metric ton of academic credit for this, even if I no-show the Alchemy lectures the Flamels are doing."

"Hey, I got Hermione to make a copy of her notes for you, so it's not a complete loss, Harry."

"There is that. Thank you, Ron; Neville."

"Don't thank us. She insisted."

"Well, remind me to thank her once we're done excavating this damn storeroom… wait, there's something here. A mirror or something?"

Harry made his way to what looked like an antique mirror covered by a luxurious though dusty velvet curtain.

He pulled the curtain aside and…

Female moans filled the air as he whipped the curtain back on.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

Beats me. What's got you spooked, Harry?

You didn't hear it?

Hear what?

Listen.

Harry yanked the curtain open for a moment, and the moans started up again, only stopping when he put the curtain back on.

Again, you didn't hear it?

No, Harry. Wait a minute… I know this artifact.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Neville said, walking up to him with the tip of his wand lit up. "Your face is red. What happened?"

Harry shook his head so fast, the dust in the room near him flew off.

"The mirror," he explained, and as he gestured towards it, Ron pulled the curtain open carefully.

"Who the heck is Laborn Johns and why am I blocking his shots at the goalposts?" Ron asked as he looked at the mirror.

"Pretty sure that's not what I see," Neville replied. "I see myself leading Longbottom House. What about you, Harry? …Harry?"

Harry was turned away from the mirror, a wall of silence spell around him, and a handkerchief at his nose. He gestured with his arm backwards to put the curtain back on – Neville seemed confused, but Ron quickly did it anyway, even if he wanted to see who this Laborn Johns fellow was.

When Harry turned back, his nose was bleeding and his face was even redder than before.

"Is that mirror somehow affecting you, Harry?" Ron asked, and Harry just nodded.

I can't get a bead on your thoughts. There is encrypted information being relayed to your senses, probably something from the mirror. Let me see…

…how long until you decrypt it, Tom?

Give me several moments and… done. Oh my, Harry.

Tom…

Fine. Be that way. Still… you would've made a fine Slytherin, with that kind of ambition.

How can I see the mirror without it being… that vision?

Hmm. Let me see… I suppose I can filter the incoming data somewhat now that I've decrypted it. Do you want black bars or mosaic?

WHATEVER WORKS!

"Hey, Neville, Harry, check this out. Above the mirror, some strange carvings. Do those look like letters?"

"They don't make sense, almost as if they're… on backwards… hmm…" Neville trailed off.

Harry forced his eyes to stop looking at the mirror and onto the carvings.

"I show not your face but your heart's desire?" Harry and Neville intoned almost simultaneously.

"Well," Harry finally said after a while, "this seems to be the mirror Professor Snape was talking about."

"You seem to have an even greater weakness to it than we do, Harry," Neville observed. "Whenever you look in that mirror, your face turns red and your nose starts to leak blood."

Not wanting to be put on the spot, Harry gestured towards the mirror.

"Your heart's desire," Harry said. "Isn't it strange that all of us can somehow resist it?"

"The Dark Lord could be anywhere. Death could come for us any time," Ron answered, and that answered a question that Harry was wondering about. "I'll look at my quidditch career when there's actually a wizarding Britain to play for."

"Same," Neville said. "It's no use to have a Longbottom House to lead when everything else has been destroyed by the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters."

Harry let out a low whistle.

I don't know what happened to rob these guys of what little innocence they have left.

They're part of the Order of the Phoenix. They took an oath. This is the price they pay.

I know… but this just… wait a minute.

"Guys," Harry said as he was about to open the mirror again, "which one of us wants the stone again?"

"I could use it to help speed up my parents' recovery," Neville answered.

"And I could use it to transmute a lot of gold so my parents won't have to worry about money ever again," Ron answered. "Why do you ask that, Harry?"

"Because I think I know how the mirror works," he said, flinging the curtain away to view the mirror in its entirety.

***

[Scene redacted due to extreme NSFW content. Will post said snippet elsewhere eventually, but not here.]

***

Even with all the filters his Device placed on it, the lurid sight still burned itself before Harry's eyes…

…the Harry in the mirror turned to him, and flexed one of his arms.

He saw something appear in the pocket of the pants strewn over a chair just as the Harry in the mirror returned his attention to the woman below him…

…and then his right pants pocket felt heavier than usual.

He stepped up to the mirror and closed the curtain.

"You all right, Harry?"

"What did you see there, Harry?"

"I'm okay now. Let's go back to Mr. Flamel."

***

A/N: You can already imagine what Harry saw in the Mirror of Erised.

Also yes, this is my way of saying that Harry is not exempt from being a horny male teenager. He just... keeps it in better than most of his age group, and the Mirror just hit him upside the head with it all at once.

 

[Nitramy]

A/N: obvious references are obvious.

Spoiler

aside from Steelrising, there's also Shinji and Warhammer 40k

***

Legacy Established

***

Several days had passed between Harry, Ron and Neville being able to snag the Philosopher's Stone from the defenses placed around it.

Much to Harry's annoyance, Ron and Neville were able to guess what had Harry behaving so oddly upon retrieving the Stone, and with their knowledge of the regular 'night visits' from his fellow Hufflepuffs, were needling him nonstop about what they think he saw in the Mirror.

"A harem of nubile Hufflepuffs, all aged to his liking," Neville had said.

"On a throne made of Hufflepuff knickers," Ron continued.

"I swear by Merlin's sparkly bits," Harry said, "you guys are really picking up where the twins left off, aren't you?"

The two Gryffindors just laughed.

"Well," Ron explained, "you haven't told us what you saw in the Mirror. Just who were you snogging? Hermione? Daphne? Ginny – no, not her, Hannah, Susan?"

Harry just gave an exasperated sigh as he shook his head.

Well, they may have gotten the vision right, but at least they haven't cottoned onto who you were doing it with yet, Harry.

Only a matter of time until they make the correct guess. I hope I can make it to the end of seventh year before that happens.

You're doing a good job of it with your occlumency.

Who knew a powerful mental art would have such a useful application?

Indeed, who knew?

He took a turn at the hallway and made his way to one of the larger classrooms, where the Flamels were about to hold another seminar. Their presence at Hogwarts certainly made things lively, as well as the Alchemy elective they were teaching, and now the hype surrounding their presence had boiled down to a simmer.

Despite all that, Harry found himself troubled by their presence and the real reason they went out of their way to reacquire the priceless artifact.

Sure, the idea of an object that could grant eternal life had intrigued him ever since he first heard about it, but he knew that the stone was a dangerous artifact.

He understood why Nicolas Flamel, its creator, had decided to destroy it… but he also felt that there was something important about the stone that everyone overlooked.

It was with this mindset that Harry, during a lull in his NEWT reviews, visited the alchemist couple in their laboratory. Upon being beckoned to enter, Harry saw the old alchemist busy working on some new project, but he welcomed Harry warmly. Harry was still nervous, even if he already met the couple before at Mahoutokoro, because he wasn't sure how to broach the subject of the Philosopher's Stone.

"…and that is why you put the ingredients in that sequence," the ancient alchemist said. "You were saying, Harry?"

"I was wondering if we could talk about the Philosopher's Stone," Harry said, trying to sound casual.

Flamel's face darkened. "What about it?" he asked carefully.

"Mrs. Flamel told me about your plans with the stone," Harry admitted. "I was wondering if there was a way, you would choose to preserve it."

"Preserve it?" Flamel repeated incredulously. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"It's like you said in your alchemy lectures," Harry explained. "A theorem, based on the nature of Equivalent Exchange and what we know about the soul's elasticity regarding knowledge and wisdom. We already know that alchemical foci often have traces of the souls of their users, either in the form of an imprint or a portion of their knowledge. With that being established, how much knowledge would something like a Philosopher's Stone have?"

This was one of the things Nicolas Flamel often wrestled with when the topic of destroying the Philosopher's Stone came about, and hearing the boy figure it out on his own had the doubts that he long thought dispelled returning to him in force.

Flamel looked at Harry thoughtfully, still weighing the value of the Philosopher's Stone as a source of great knowledge between the shame of losing the knowledge it possessed forever and the danger it had intact.

"You have a point, Harry," the old alchemist answered, choosing his words with great prudence. "But I can't risk the stone falling into the wrong hands. It's just too powerful."

"I understand," Harry said. "But… what if we extracted the knowledge from the stone and created an archive? We could preserve all the knowledge without the danger of the stone's power."

"Greater wizards have taken lifetimes in search of a way to do that," Flamel said as he considered Harry's proposal for a moment. "I have also spent years trying to find a means to preserve the stone's knowledge without the imprint of my soul into it."

"I know a way," Harry said quietly, and Flamel's eyes widened.

"Tell me," Flamel said; and Harry spoke of what he knew about the soul transformed into data. The alchemist wasn't completely cocooned within the wizarding world, so he had at least some idea about what Harry spoke of.

As Harry continued with what he had in mind, the old alchemist was beginning to become optimistic. Sure, it was a long shot, but it might just be the solution he and his wife had been searching for throughout the centuries.

"All right, Harry," Flamel said, once Harry was done with his explanation. "I'll meet with your Dr. Radom, but we'll need to be extra careful with this. You, of all people, should know the potential danger a first contact scenario would be to the magical world."

Harry's eyes brightened, but his nod of acknowledgment was grim.

***

"For all of the advances we've made ever since we acquired concrete data on soul partitioning, that is one thing we have yet to achieve," Dr. Radom replied. As soon as Harry was able to make the call, he immediately got in touch with his contact in the TSAB's research and development division, thinking that with more than a decade after receiving his Device, they would be able to handle his request…

"Still, there is a simpler way to go about this," Dr. Radom continued. "We can defragment the soul from within the artifact to separate it from the data, and from there we can properly sort and archive it. The stone does not need to be destroyed, but its lifespan-increasing capabilities will be removed – it will become nothing more than a data repository."

"But the question is…"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure Mr. and Mrs. Flamel would approve; it's the same outcome anyway."

***

"I still find it odd that you would make a last batch of elixir right before allowing this," Dr. Radom told the couple, right in the wake of their successful extraction.

Though the procedure only took a few hours, it was the most hectic and troublesome hours the TSAB had gone through.

Still, for all the precautions they took, the data was retrieved without a hitch, and all fragments of soul data from the Flamels was removed.

Of particular note were a few orphaned terabytes of soul data that didn't belong to either of the Flamels, but that was what the Bureau were going through right now.

"Perenelle and I agreed on making a last batch in case there were complications in the procedure," the old alchemist replied, happy that his knowledge was secured and that he and his wife could go onto the next great journey with their legacy intact.

"Still, all this knowledge: even the missing bits from the Library of Alexandria that Eustania von Scrya could not obtain… we now have the most comprehensive omnibus of magic from UA97 archived in the Infinity Library. The Bureau's already beginning legislation to have the UA97 archive named the "Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel Wing" in your honor."

"Thank you," the alchemist said thickly, and his wife just held onto his hand tighter.

***

As a courtesy to the old alchemist, the last remaining copy of the Philosopher's Stone was finally destroyed the day afterwards, thanks to a minute application of the L'arc-en-ciel Class Matter Annihilation Beam, a smaller version which the Vimana carried for both testing and self-defense purposes.

When Harry saw the aurora outside the castle, he smiled in accomplishment, as he knew his attempt in convincing the old alchemist of the value of the Philosopher's Stone was successful: it was more than just its ability to grant immortality. He knew that Flamel's decision to create the archive was a significant step towards preserving magical knowledge for generations to come.

***

Iron Escalation

***

The extraction took place over the week, with the Flamels suspending their Hogwarts seminars for the time to 'acquire more research material', so they said. Strangely enough, Harry himself also received an invitation on board the Vimana again for the weekend; something to do with Ouroboros, based on Dr. Radom's enigmatic invitation.

"I thought that the business of Mr. Flamel's stone was already taken care of," Harry said after he had arrived onto the ship.

"It was, but there are a few loose ends we need to tie up," Dr. Radom announced, and then the transporter had activated again, with an older man and a younger woman emerging from the chamber. "Ah, good. You have made good time, Monsieur Delacour."

Harry's eyes widened to see Sebastien Delacour and his daughter.

"Minister," Harry said with a bow in greeting.

"None of that now, my boy," the wizard said. "I am but a humble citizen of Midchilda at this point, as is my family. This matter is quite concerning, Dr. Radom. What has transpired that you have summoned us at very short notice?"

"Well," Dr. Radom replied, "something strange happened during our extraction and archival of the knowledge stored within the Philosopher's Stone. There was a stray mass of data that, after we converted it to the Midchilda standard, was a nearly-complete software component of an Intelligent Device."

"And what does that have to do with us?" Fleur asked.

"The thing is," Dr. Radom answered, "the Device we made with this software installed, has some sort of magical signature resonance lock. I can use the basic functions, but its full functionality is only given to those it fully resonates with."

"Like Ouroboros?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," Dr. Radom replied as she activated the Device with a familiar-sounding keyword. "We ran a search to find similar magical signatures… which is why you two are here, Mr. Delacour, Ms. Delacour."

"You mean to say we are compatible with this… this Device?"

Dr. Radom nodded as she deactivated the Intelligent Device and held it out to the two of them.

"This data is centuries old; I'll have you know. Color me curious, though… what is your connection to this one?"

Fleur was thinking for a moment, but her father quickly put two and two together.

"The Philosopher's Stone… mon dieu… I had heard outlandish rumors about it, but I didn't know it was true," he gasped out. "Grandmother had always spoken of the adventures Great-great-grandmother Athenais had been in…"

"What do you mean, Papa?" Fleur asked.

"That Device… that is what is left of your ancestor's masterwork; Eugene de Vaucanson. I think you are meant to wield it, Fleur."

The faint light from the gear-shaped pendant grew brighter as Fleur's hands hovered over it.

"…her name is Aegis?"

Dr. Marion Radom nodded.

"That's right."

Fleur spoke the word, and transformed.

***

Yes, I gave Fleur her own Device.

Spoiler

Current Wizarding World device wielders:
Harry Potter: Ouroboros (Tom Riddle's scar horcrux)
Luna Lovegood: Elpis (Pandora Lovegood)
Fleur Delacour: Aegis (Copy of Athenais de Vaucanson)

 

[Nitramy]

This snippet is shorter than usual, because the next couple snippets will be very whiplash-y for Harry. Plus, the final twists are going to line up the final battle for 7th year.

***

Mixed Signals

***

Device testing went well enough, with Aegis having multiple forms for combat and maneuvering. Fleur liked the fans the most, as they looked like razor-sharp metal wings that meant business; though being an Intelligent Device, nonlethal combat protocols were incorporated into it.

There was the rather awkward part where Harry walked Fleur through some of Aegis' functions, which earned him a lot of knowing glances from the Delacour family, but Harry didn't want to dwell on that.

Overall, the weekend went well, with Harry and Hogwarts returning to their usual pace of learning, as the Flamels finished up their lectures to leave for their "next great adventure", earning a party at the close of their stay in Hogwarts.

Of course, only Harry and a select few knew what the Flamels really meant by that, which was why the staff party was a lot more somber.

Harry found himself just a little bit irked that a single drop of firewhiskey in his drink was all they allowed to give him.

Last Christmas, they put me on drink duty because Aunt Petunia couldn't, and I didn't make a monkey of myself.

They don't know that, Harry. Besides, you think it would make a difference if you told them that?

They'd probably think the Dursleys are still up to their mean, Wizard-hating tricks.

They still are.

Yeah, but they're trying to look at what's normal about me instead of what isn't.

Thanks to the Admiral.

Who knows what would've happened if he wasn't around?

"…and there!" Ginny Weasley announced, casting her improved version of the Bat-Bogey Hex.

It was amazing, how the smallest bits of nose gunk turned into bats that beset their target.

The previous incarnation of the spell was rather simple, but this?

I don't think you understand how much Miss Weasley improved this spell.

What do you mean?

These are temporary familiars, Harry.

Oh.

They were crafting spells for Harry's Charms NEWT and Ginny's Charms OWL during the weekly Defense Association meeting, and once the affairs of the week had concluded, the two of them found themselves in the Hogwarts main hall, just seated on some chairs and decompressing from the week's ups and downs.

"Seen your games," Harry said. "You're a pretty good Chaser, ever think about turning pro?"

Ginny shrugged.

"Maybe, maybe not. I'm not exactly in the frame of mind to be thinking of that, given what's going on right now… when all this has passed, I'll probably think about it… so yes?"

Harry laughed at her answer before his expression turned serious.

"'Given what's going on'… Ginny, the kind of premonitions you've had…"

She nodded.

"I was at the Triwizard final. I asked my brothers not to watch the final match, felt something would happen, and it did…" she said. "Speaking of the Triwizard, I've been asking my dad about Cedric. What happened to him?"

"Oh, that I can answer," Harry replied with a grin. "Cedric Diggory's going to be the consort of the Rousavall family's heir. Claire's an only child, so she's going to be Marchioness Rousavall."

"He married into royalty?"

"More like royalty snapped him up," Harry clarified, snapping his finger. "Like that. By the way, you were with the Golden Trio during the OWLs at Diagon, right?"

"That's right," Ginny admitted. "I was there to give my brother moral support. You know… he needs all the help he can get, especially with the OWLs."

Something halfway between a chuckle and a cough escaped Harry before he motioned Ginny to continue.

"When I was there, I had a feeling of… wrongness…" Ginny said with a sigh. "Who knew it would be You-Know-Who possessing a dragon?"

"Yeah…"

The resulting silence from Ginny's words dampened what was previously a relaxed mood.

Several minutes later, she stood up.

"Sorry to be such a downer, Harry," Ginny said as she broke the silence, "we'll be seeing you next week, right?"

Harry just nodded, and as soon as she was out of earshot, he consulted his Device.

How did she know?

I've been thinking about that, too.

Also, you've been surprisingly silent every time I'm working on Charms with Ginny. What gives?

Ginny Weasley and Cedric Diggory have something in common.

Harry took a moment to think.

They've both been possessed by the Dark Lord, or artifacts with his soul.

Right in one. Now, I may not be Tom Riddle or Lord Voldemort anymore, but there is enough of him in me that I cannot run the risk of communicating with you, with the risk of them hearing it.

What about the Triwizard?

Oh, that's just pure luck. Even if Cedric does manage to make the connection, he doesn't have the credibility to make the accusation. After all, he was possessed by the diadem at the time.

That's a relief.

That won't be enough. Remember, we are on thin ice with Dumbledore.

I know. I still don't get why we keep simulating that encounter.

Because I know how Professor Dumbledore thinks, and if he does make a move, we need to be able to slither away from it without leaving any trace.

Are we really going to have to resort to that?

No, Ouroboros clarified. What I meant was, we negotiate as hard as we can. For all the power we've gained, Dumbledore still has experience and treachery to fall back on. We are going to do everything we can to prevent a fight.

Makes sense, but with what you say about him not trusting me…

That only means we'll have to plan for every eventuality.

Which is what we're already doing.

***

 

[Nitramy]

***

The Reason

***

For some strange reason, the inevitability of Dumbledore discovering who and what Ouroboros really was lit a fuse under Harry's backside.

Professor Snape knew something was up with his apprentice, but with NEWTs incoming, all of that was put in the back seat.

Studies were more important, after all.

The biggest surprise was yet to come, as it was at the start of April that Severus Snape finally understood who his apprentice truly was.

Harry was in the middle of a study session when a smaller and cuter version of Fawkes swooped into the classroom and tugged at his collar.

Something like this only meant one thing: the headmaster needed him for something urgent.

After excusing himself and making his way up to the top floor of the castle with Fawkes following behind, he was expecting the worst, only for Professor Dumbledore to gesture towards the ornate and antique-looking phone on the desk.

"It's for you, Harry," the headmaster said. "The call, I mean."

Okay, that's weird. Who would contact us via telephone?

I know, right? It's like the weird feeling I've been getting as of late that I've forgotten something, but it always ends up making me want to, you know, study harder or do better at everything. Classes, remedial defense, even crafting spells with Ginny.

I've also noticed. You used to react badly to Professor Slughorn. Now, he barely registers to you.

I know, it's strange.

He went up to the phone and answered it.

"This is Harry Potter."

"Ah, good. Just like I've told the headmaster, you have an urgent family emergency," Admiral Gil Graham said on the other end of the line. "You'll need to take the rest of the day off and the day after that."

"Uncle Gil," Harry acknowledged. "Did you square it away with the headmaster, sir?"

"He seemed a bit delighted at the development; said something about making another seminar or lecture to fill in the spots the one accompanying you would leave behind."

"Professor Dumbledore okayed it?"

"Indeed," the TSAB official replied. "As long as you brought Professor Snape with you… and that you leave immediately."

"All right, I'll inform him. How time-critical is this, Uncle Gil?"

"Extremely so."

"Thank you, Uncle. Will I see you there?"

"I am still tied up at work, but I will make the time when I can. Expect me there tomorrow or thereabouts."

"All right, sir."

"Until then, Harry."

He heard a click as the line went dead and turned towards the headmaster.

"I had my misgivings about letting you off the castle, but given our schedule, I wouldn't mind doing you a favor at all, my boy," the old wizard said, eyes twinkling. "As with Mahoutokoro, I'm sure you wouldn't mind Severus looking after you, Harry…?"

Harry shrugged.

"It's fine, sir. Uncle Gil said I needed to leave immediately, though."

"Worry not. I've already informed Severus and the rest of the faculty of your… emergency. You can meet him at the main entrance."

"Thank you, professor."

"I hope this 'emergency' does not mean ill tidings. Safe travels, Harry."

Harry saw Dumbledore give him a nod which he returned before making his way out of the headmaster's office.

***

Professor Snape's face was inscrutable as they made their way out of the castle.

"We'll be out of range of the anti-apparition wards soon. Ever been to a side-along apparition, Harry?" Snape asked, and Harry shook his head.

I'll stabilize the spell.

Won't it put you at risk for discovery?

Not when our destination is so far away and we need to be there urgently; we need to be precise.

"Hold on," Snape said, and after putting his arm around his apprentice's shoulder, both men disappeared with a crack.

A moment later, the two of them appeared just outside 4 Privet Drive.

"That was not how Apparition usually works," Snape thought aloud, but Harry was already knocking at the door of his home.

"Is that you, boy?" the sound of Vernon Dursley's voice came from within.

"It's me, Uncle," Harry called back, and soon he heard the sound of footfalls growing louder before the door was opened.

"Dudley?"

"Good timing, Harry! We were just getting ready to head to the hospital."

That surprised him.

"Hospital?!"

"Yeah, my Da pulled me out of boarding school for the rest of the week. Said Mum's water broke an hour or so ago."

Water broke? Wait a minute…

The emergency was Aunt Petunia… my second cousin's here!

He stepped aside as the father and son made their way out of the house towards the car, giving the dour man standing behind Harry an acknowledging nod as they passed by.

"Boy, the house!" Vernon said as he tossed the ring of keys to Harry. "And once you're done, jump in the back. You too, Server… er, Surfer… er…"

"It's Severus, Mr. Dursley," Snape said, his eyes only betraying his amusement as Harry locked down the front door.

"Bah, who cares. Call me Vernon, you're Pet's friend," he replied, and the two wizards made their way into the sedan.

"Uncle Vernon, who's with Aunt Petunia right now?" Harry asked.

"My sister Marge," the stout man answered. "She was the only one who could make it on such short notice."

The ride to the hospital at Surrey was filled with conversation, as it was obvious that Vernon Dursley was chatting just to keep his own anxiety at bay, speaking about mundane things even as he expertly weaved the sedan through traffic.

The apple didn't fall too far from the tree, either, as Dudley was asking the Defense Professor how Harry was like in class.

Snape knew how much these muggles loathed magic, but it seemed their attention was focused on the road and what lay ahead at the hospital to care too much about him being a wizard.

He had seen its influence before, but now that he had truly seen it, he noticed that something had changed, and that the Dursleys were not who Dumbledore portrayed them as.

In hindsight, he should have suspected this, given the amount of food Harry usually brought to the Order gatherings during the winter holidays.

Did they change their tune about magic? That wasn't it, but something else. Something that made them acknowledge Harry as part of the family…

His thoughts were interrupted when they finally arrived at the hospital, and were given directions to the maternity ward where Petunia Dursley was currently having her second child…

***

As it turned out, their presence wasn't that needed, other than Vernon having to sign some documents and checks to take care of the hospital bill.

Snape had been expecting Vernon's sister to be confrontational upon seeing him and Harry, but the woman who emerged from the waiting room looked exhausted.

"Marge. What's happened?" Vernon asked, and she just sighed.

"We just passed the worst of it," she said tiredly. "It was a breech. The doctors got to fix it in time, thankfully."

She took shaky steps towards the bench, turned to give Snape and Harry a brief sharp look, and then sat down.

"Who are you again?" she asked as she gave the Defense Professor a look. Despite being on such short notice, Severus Snape still had Takamachi Momoko's lessons in mind, as he didn't stand out like a sore thumb in the hospital waiting room… except for the dark colors of his outfit.

"My chaperone," Harry replied.

"You have a chaperone?" Aunt Marge replied, and went on a rant about how delinquent boys needed to be trained by hardened warriors from the military to truly become men.

"You have nothing to worry about in that regard, ma'am," Snape said as soon as Vernon's sister finished her rant. "Harry here has been in good hands."

"I know, I saw," she said, and stopped short as she saw Vernon walk towards them.

"Is Marge giving you two any trouble?" Vernon asked; master and apprentice shook their heads no.

"You did good putting him up in St. Brutus," Marge told her brother. "Look at your nephew. He looks less like a boy and more a man now. That military boarding school education has really toughened him up."

Snape and Harry were nodding at her, but for an entirely different reason.

Several minutes later, Harry's Aunt Marge had been worn-out completely and curled up to nap at one of the benches, with Dudley looking after her.

"So… what do we do in the meantime?" Harry asked aloud.

"We wait," Snape replied before he let out a small chuckle. "Who knew, you being picked by the Witch of Dun Scaith did wonders for your reputation with the muggles?"

"I know, Professor. Had to keep myself from laughing out loud when Aunt Marge started talking about St. Brutus."

Nobody in the waiting room bothered to ask where the man in the dark suit pulled out the large hardcover he was reading, and Harry decided to spend the time meditating and talking to Ouroboros.

***

Several hours later, a doctor emerged from one of the maternity wards.

"Mr. Dursley? Mr. Potter?"

Vernon stood up from where he was waiting and shook his son awake, motioning him and Harry to follow.

Harry was normally calm in situations like this, but this time, his heart was pounding and his hands were shaking even as he followed his uncle and cousin to the ward where his aunt was recuperating.

They stepped through the door and saw an exhausted but triumphant Petunia Dursley carrying her second child in her arms, the smile of the victorious upon her face.

"Vernon, look at her! Our miracle," she said, and the father looked on, moved at the sight. "Dudley, meet your younger sister."

He followed suit, and when the new big brother stepped away, his eyes were misty.

"Harry. Meet your younger cousin… Lily."

Upon hearing the name, Ouroboros sensed something within Harry, but the young man was too surprised by the pronouncement of his second cousin's name, that when he laid eyes on the sleeping baby, he too was overcome with emotion.

"I… I have to step out for a while…" Harry barely managed to say, not trusting his voice.

"Tell him," Petunia replied, "I know… he went here with you."

"I will, Aunt Petunia."

He sniffled before giving his aunt a nod and going back to the waiting room where Professor Snape was waiting.

The apprentice turned the corner, went to the waiting room and saw his master waiting.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"It went well," Harry said, his voice cracking a bit. "They're naming her Lily."

Snape's eyes widened for a while, before he understood – that was her sister's name, after all.

What was more surprising, though, was Harry's magic.

There was the sense of it surging like waves in a storm, mercurial and inconstant as it ebbed and flowed according to his mood.

That was gone, now. All of Harry's magic seemed to come together in a single purpose.

At that moment, Snape knew that Harry had once again bucked the trend: going his own way and making his own mark in the magical world, as only he could do.

"Ah," he said enigmatically. "It seems you've finally found your reason, Harry."

Harry looked confused at that, up until Snape continued.

"Come on, we can at least wait for your other uncle to show up."

That snapped Harry out of it.

"Yes, he said he was coming here in an hour or two, see how Aunt Petunia and Lily are doing," Harry said, and noticed the flash of pain in the Defense Professor's eyes.

Until Harry's Uncle Gil showed up, the two of them just sat in the waiting room, thinking about what had just happened.

***

Note: Aunt Marge thinks Harry's doing well at St. Brutus, but that's just two years of training under the Witch of Dun Scaith. Vernon can't be bothered to correct his sister.

Also, in this story, Marge has become wealthy due to her job as a veterinarian. She is a single mother, though her son was born way before Harry's time, and moved away when he was of age (which is why she had some experience helping Petunia out with her second child).

 

[Nitramy]

***

It didn't take long until the TSAB official arrived, and it was not too long after Harry's other aunt woke up from her nap.

The Potions master was treated to the sight of Vernon Dursley's sister telling a military man how glad she was that he was able to straighten someone like Harry out.

As Marjorie Dursley went into another rant about military discipline, Admiral Graham found himself quite entertained by how well the civilian understood TSAB culture. To him, it was uncanny… and it was a good opportunity for Harry and Professor Snape to themselves take a small break of their own.

Several minutes later, the Dursley siblings left to purchase supplies, leaving Dudley to look after his mother and sister. Meanwhile, in the waiting room, there was a hurried exchange going on.

"I think his magic has matured, Mr. Graham."

"I sensed it upon my arrival here," the admiral concurred. "Harry's Linker Core has stabilized… which means yes, his magic has indeed crossed that threshold."

"What does that mean?" Harry asked, curious.

"It means, your magic has oriented itself towards your purpose. Though still flexible, a certain part of it will be easier to access and more powerful when oriented towards it," Snape explained, a bitter expression on his face. "I can remember that time when it happened to me, like it was only yesterday."

By this time, Harry already knew that the professor's hateful looks weren't directed at him, but someone who looked like him. Low-level legilimency greatly helped in that regard. To his credit, Professor Snape turned away.

"How is his Linker Core, Ouroboros?"

Harry's magic has become much stronger with its maturation. It will take some time before he truly understands what this means.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It means that while the spells you can cast as second nature won't be affected, learning new spells or magical exercises will take more effort. Thankfully, you have a solid foundation and regimen to fall back on.

The Witch… was just reminded again, I should thank her.

There will be time for that.

"Ah, yes. Harry… you were born with an above-average linker core. Not only that, your magic was actively keeping the entity that later became Ouroboros at bay, and later grew to fill the void it left behind when it was removed from you. It's only gotten stronger through time and training," Graham explained. "At this point, your magical maturation has caused your linker core to reinforce itself significantly."

"Uncle Gil," Harry asked, "How will it affect my Device usage?"

"Oh, that remains to be seen," the admiral answered. "One thing I can say with certainty is that your magical capacity has increased. Exhausting yourself casting magic in training or during times of crisis… it's caused your magic to adapt accordingly."

Any further explanation was interrupted when the two Dursleys entered the ward.

***

Warrior and Scholar

***

"You've found your reason."

The words resonated within Harry's heart deeply, and upon his return to Hogwarts, the fire inside of him was stoked to the point of raging, where he devoted himself to his studies and training wholeheartedly.

Though Professor Snape never explained how his magic maturing went, Harry was able to put two and two together and not ask the Defense professor about it, especially when his classes had become even more popular due to his demeanor changing.

Harry's presence at the remedial Defense classes had also been of great help to every Hogwarts student who felt short-changed from years prior.

During a weekend, he spared some time to meditate on himself, Harry found it strange: he learned better and faster after headlining a remedial Defense class and mock duels with his classmates.

Why is this happening?

Well, I think I have an idea. You know that saying: if you want to learn better, teach.

Don't tell me I'm turning into Professor Snape?

Not Professor Snape. You're following someone else's example.

Right.

Reassured by that fact, Harry redoubled his efforts, and just like that, the days melted away into weeks, and the weeks turned into months.

Before he knew it, Harry was now clutching the NEWT mock exam results in his hand, and it showed that he could potentially make history if he kept his momentum going.

You're going to break my record?

That was you?

Well, before all of the weird stuff happened, but yes. You ARE going to beat my record, aren't you?

I'll do my best, of course.

Of course? This doesn't count me being your Device, OF COURSE I'm going to help you to twelve NEWTS.

We're just at the halfway point, though.

Halfway my ass. The kind of progress we're making, you could take it right now.

I hope you're right, Tom… but there are still some things that are worrying me that are not academic.

As the sixth-year students staggered out of the Main Hall, looking like they just finished running from a nundu while under enemy howitzer fire, Harry had other things in mind.

Sure, the entire ordeal had also tuckered him out, the half of the mock exam earning the meaning behind the amusing acronym, which was why he wasn't walking as briskly as he usually did.

Still, only his closest acquaintances and classmates saw his fatigue, and were a bit satisfied to see that NEWTs were still 'the great equalizer'.

Hogwarts had an odd policy of pairing their end-of-term exams for sixth year as half of a mock exam for NEWTs, which were scheduled a bit earlier than the end of term, so students were given a week or two to reorient themselves academically based on their test results, choose alternate career paths, and other matters students would be benefited to know ahead of time.

That was on paper, though.

In actuality, students would tend to use the free time given to decompress and compensate for all the work they did for the past school year, hence all the House parties, the final match of the quidditch House Cup, the leaving feast… for upper years, the end of the school year was typically festive in nature, and this year was no exception.

Harry, on the other hand, wanted to spend this week doing some actual decompression, and just relax. No simulations, no training, no remedial Defense, no being a gofer between Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn, none of those things.

He was looking forward to all that free time to do absolutely nothing when he received a summons from his nominal Head of House.

Wondering what that was all about, he weaved through the halls and took well-memorized steps towards the office of Professor Pomona Sprout.

***

Selling Yourself Short

***

Now that Harry thought about it, he hadn't had a chance to see what Professor Sprout's office was like: because of all those nightly visits, he knew the route, but because of the time of day and his state of mind (he was this close to taking one of the Hufflepuff girls up on their offer, but Ouroboros replaying that thing he watched with Dudley several months ago worked better than a cold shower), he could never spare a moment to see the details.

He waited until the head of Hufflepuff House took up the seat at her desk and motioned him to sit down.

Once they were comfortable, she broke the ice.

"I assume you know why you're here," she said, and Harry shook his head.

"Ever since the first night of classes when you dropped by my office, I have done everything possible to stop my house from visiting you at night," she began, and seemed to ignore Harry making a face. "You might be 'nominally' a member of this House, but my door has been always open to you."

The walls seemed to close in on Harry as a feeling of confinement began to wash over him. He closed his eyes took a deep breath to compose himself, and when he opened them again, the office returned to its usual look.

"My apologies," he admitted. "I was thinking more in a fight or flight manner at the time; I was unsure who to trust in this House, whether all of you were working together to keep me out of it."

"You think too poorly of your betters, Mr. Potter," she said; though her tone was gentle, the admonishment still hit straight and true. "Though… I think it comes with being of that age: nobody your age ever really believes that their elders truly care about their welfare."

Harry sighed.

"It's a lot more than that."

"It is, indeed," Professor Sprout concurred. "Being not only Severus' apprentice, but his confidante… I have to admit, I envied having that kind of connection. But given how he is… I'm not surprised that out of the entire faculty, he has the greatest kinship with you… after Professor Pennyworth and the Witch of Dun Scaith, of course."

Harry's retort froze as he noticed that the head of Hufflepuff House was seeing through him so easily, without the need of occlumency.

"Ah, that answers a question that has been bothering me, about why you have not indulged yourself with your housemates, even as they freely offered themselves to you in their misguided attempt to bring you back in the fold, so to speak."

She laughed.

"Though I wonder, do you even consider what they think, the reason why they have been throwing themselves at you nightly?"

Harry shook his head.

"What would they want with someone like me?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, Mr. Potter?" she asked, and when Harry shook his head again, she continued. "You do not quite understand the status you have at this school: the Boy-Who-Lived, winner of the Triwizard Tournament, apprentice of Hogwarts, carries the favor of Severus Snape, also teaches his own Defense Against the Dark Arts remedial class… shall I keep going?"

"I'm not a prefect, Professor," Harry said in a lame attempt to add humor to the conversation.

"You're not," Professor Sprout said with a grin on her face. "But come next year, when they decide on who gets to be Head Boy or Head Girl, well…"

"I don't think I like where this is going."

"No matter how you feel about it, it's heading there anyway," she replied. "Faculty aside, you are the strongest wizard in the school, so why are you surprised that your House has decided as a group that you are the biggest prize in the student body?"

He shrugged.

"It's not like that," Harry admitted. "A lesser man would have given into whoever offered on his first night here. I could have had my pick of the litter… but I choose not to."

"I thought that returning them to you would be the end of it, but it seems my House has a rule that whoever denies them is, and I quote, 'playing hard to get', and is therefore an even bigger prize."

Professor Sprout shrugged.

"That's just how it is with teenage girls and women, Harry. I've been here for decades and have seen it happen many times."

"Can't they control themselves?" Harry asked.

"I assume you have heard of the saying 'using the wrong head to think with'," the head of Hufflepuff House replied. "Consider this the feminine equivalent of that."

Harry scrunched up his face in a bad mix of disbelief and disgust about that revelation.

"You're wondering why," Professor Sprout continued. "Humanity is a mess of contradictions and secrets enough as it is: give them a means to alter reality on a whim, and those contradictions only become more contradictory…"

"…while their secrets become more secretive," Harry finished. "I think I understand a bit of it now. What do you think I should be doing, moving forward?"

"Only you know the answer to that question, Harry."

Professor and student spent a minute in a companionable silence, until she spoke up.

"But… if you ask me, you've been doing a fabulous job so far. I'm sorry I couldn't be of much help with your trouble with your house mates."

Harry shook his head.

"You've been doing what you can," Harry replied magnanimously, now knowing that Professor Sprout wasn't in on whatever happened in fourth and fifth year. "Besides, it's hard to stay mad at them; they're kids. You really can't blame a child for acting like a child… especially when their hormones start kicking in and all."

Before Harry left the office, he and Professor Sprout spent a few more minutes talking about what to do next about the night visits, and Pomona promised the best of her House that she'd at least try to explain the score with Harry Potter to Hufflepuff House as best she could.

Hopefully that would set the matter straight and finally allow him a good night's sleep, enough for him to wake up without the likes of Megan Jones using him as an oversized bolster, for example.

***

A/N: You might think that someone from Hufflepuff has already gotten to sleep with Harry. That has not yet happened. The line about Megan Jones is Harry visualizing it. Think of an Ally McBeal visual gag and that's what it is.

And yes, Harry getting a magical equivalent of DBZ's zenkai boost on multiple occasions will be important in 7th year.

(and yes, Professor Sprout indirectly called Snape a manchild because of how well he relates to Harry being a 'teenage rebel')

 

[Nitramy]

Not completely satisfied with this snippet. I will most likely write Dumbledore's further thoughts about the seaside cave confrontation to after the next event, a kinda sorta proof that Harry isn't the second coming of Tommy Boy Albus thinks he is.

Also, Harry HAS removed the curse on the DADA position. He did it just after he returned from Mahoutokoro. I will also include this in a future snippet.

***

Face/Off

***

Unfortunately for Harry, he had only enjoyed a few days of rest and relaxation when he was summoned by the Defense professor.

He was still irked at that, but knew that he had to be on his best behavior, since Professor Snape had been working with the headmaster on some sort of project ever since the end of year exams-slash-mock NEWTs were finished.

That and the man had been running himself ragged. There was a time and place to be a snarky teenager, and this was not it.

Now, Harry found himself at the headmaster's office, where Professor Dumbledore was talking about the information that he had gained from Professor Slughorn, and Harry might be able to help in sensing where a certain Dark artifact might be.

He agreed, and after a short stroll to Hogsmeade, they used Apparition to get to their destination.

After overcoming the twisting sensation of a side-along Apparition, Harry found himself on a beach, looking at the rough seas and waves.

"What are we doing here, Professor?"

"I have it on good information that the artifact we need is somewhere here," Professor Dumbledore answered. "Do you not sense the dark magic in this area?"

Harry scrunched up his nose in disgust before closing his eyes and letting what his Master called the 'sense of wonder' spread out of him.

He could feel the headmaster's magical power, as well as the wondrous nature of the wand in his hand, and focused on the cave ahead. There were lots of magical charms, potions, and…

…Are those zombies?

Technically, they're inferi.

And in our remedial defense classes, inferi are corpses reanimated by magic, so…

A rose by any other name is still a rose?

Seems so. The dark magic of this place is also preserving a corpse in the water that hasn't been touched by the inferi. Amazing.

Indeed, it is amazing.

This is odd, though. Professor Dumbledore said that we're looking for a Dark artifact. All that's here are protections, charms, zombies, and a corpse that was apparently waylaid by the defenses here.

You don't sense anything else?

No… it's like a choke point, with all these charms and protections here. The question is, what are these things protecting?

Wait a minute. Is this the point of the location? Put all these defenses over a decoy or something?

Ouroboros?

Tom?

Harry Potter opened his eyes, only to see the business end of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's wand, the old wizard sporting a stern look on his face, even as he was ready to cast a spell immediately.

"Time to end the charade, Harry… Tom."

A red light flashed briefly across the afternoon skies on the seaside cave.

***

Albus Dumbledore was an old wizard who had seen nearly everything possible in life, so it was rare for him to find himself surprised.

Yet, he was surprised all the same, as now, Harry Potter was standing a few feet away from him in a combat stance, wearing the robes he wore during the Triwizard Tournament, and a silver staff in hand, a green orb on one end.

He silently cursed himself for not nipping this at the bud when he had the golden opportunity to; he could say that the boy had succumbed to his wounds, and people would accept his truth verbatim, because he was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, and that would have been that.

But there was something in the boy that stopped him.

It wasn't that Harry was walking the path of Tom Riddle.

It was that Harry was walking the path of Tom Riddle had the matter of the Chamber of Secrets not happened.

He was absolutely sure that the boy would have an inordinate amount of power, influence… that, and he also knew Harry would lash out, had he known the story of his parents and the Order.

There were many chances for him to make a move against Harry Potter, but each time, Harry seemed to show off yet another aspect of him that he considered 'out of character', even for someone influenced by a Dark Lord.

So here he was now, a step too slow in casting the stunning charm, and now the biggest danger to Hogwarts was standing right in front of him, looking like he had expected this to happen all along.

"How long have you known, Professor?" Harry asked calmly.

How is he able to keep his composure at this time? Dumbledore wondered.

"Long enough," he replied. "The fact that you communicated with your Patronus in the tongue of serpents was one thing. Your popularity with the student body is another. And the power you wield… you are but a nascent Dark Lord set to rise. I failed to stop one before, and I won't fail to stop you now."

"Stop us from doing what?" the green orb asked, glowing. "Completing our education?"

"Don't play coy with me, Tom. I know how much of a silver tongue you have."

Ouroboros sighed.

"If you know what I am now, then you know that any and every capability of mine to influence the Boss was excised from me," the Device answered. "My primary directive is to work with, follow, and protect the Boss."

"That… is preposterous."

"As preposterous as the fact that I am the rebuilt remnants of the horcrux in Harry Potter's scar?"

"You're not supposed to…"

"I'm not supposed to do a lot of things. Heck, I'm not even supposed to be a lot of things. But I am here now, an Intelligent Device, helping Harry get through six years here. Hopefully, one more."

Harry sighed.

"Professor Dumbledore doesn't seem to be buying what you're saying, Tom. Maybe I should try."

He lowered Ouroboros to a less hostile state, but still guarded.

"Professor, could you ask me why I would try to do something against a place where I've had a lot of memories?" Harry asked.

"You were ostracized from your house. That's more than enough motive for anyone to go Dark."

"Do I look like someone who cares what my House thinks?"

That question surprised Dumbledore – being sorted to Hufflepuff did make Harry more sociable, but all of it went out the window when the Triwizard came along, and the year after that. He had expected Harry to retaliate, and even now, was anticipating Harry to show hostility when his House was brought up…

…and again, Albus Dumbledore was surprised, because when it came to Hufflepuff, all his legilimency revealed was Harry's indifference.

But why, though?

Why be an outlier?

And for that matter, even as an outlier, Harry still did have friends… there was Neville, Ron, Hermione, Luna Lovegood, even Roger Davies the alumnus and Triwizard participant also had a great opinion of him, despite his hostility during the tournament… what was going on?

Despite him holding the wand, Albus Dumbledore found himself in an unfamiliar situation.

"Not if you wanted them to make a truly outlandish offering in exchange for your return…"

Harry grinned.

"Ask Professor Sprout. I've been getting night visitors from my fellow House members, and I've returned all of them to her."

The old wizard's mastery of occlumency helped stave off most of the frustration he was feeling. Why has Harry Potter always zigged when everyone else expected him to zag?

"Say, Professor," Harry said, interrupting the headmaster's thoughts. "I don't suppose we can put our wands down and return to Hogwarts, can we?"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Once I deal with you, there is still the matter of the locket."

"Sir…" Harry said. "There is no Dark artifact there."

"What?"

Harry's staff had vanished, and before either of them could blink, a wandless legilimens was already on its way towards Harry… and instead of dodging it, he took on the spell head-on.

Sir. I've allowed you access to what the Witch called my 'sense of wonder'. Look over the cave. There is nothing there with a magical signature similar to Tom.

The headmaster willed it, and felt the charms, the tainted water in the lake, the inferi within, and the corpse of… wait a minute…

There was no Dark artifact here.

His eyes opened and he jerked back from the revelation.

"How did you know?"

"Professor, even though I'm a Device, I am still created from a horcrux of the one you know as Voldemort," Tom answered. "If there's anything Harry and I can sense with absolute accuracy, it is whether any artifacts nearby house his soul."

The old wizard's eyes widened even further.

"So… the tournament final… Cedric… and the dragon in Diagon Alley…"

Harry nodded.

"If you are who you say you are, why go through all this trouble, then?"

Harry closed his eyes and smiled.

"Allow me to tell you a story about an incident earlier this year, on New Year's Day."

***

When the New Year came to the Dursley household, it was met with a more atypical celebration.

Given Petunia's status, the family had a more subdued time: less fireworks, more sparklers, and much less alcohol.

Despite that, Vernon Dursley insisted on drinking his wife's share; 'taking one for the team', so he had said at the time.

Several hours after their small celebration, Dudley and Petunia were cleaning up in the dining room while Vernon was wrapping up the last of their celebratory wine in the living room.

Harry was about to go and help with the cleaning, but the older Dursley put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sit down, boy," he half-said and half-slurred. "Got something you need to know."

He wanted to just go, but the solemn look on Uncle Vernon made him stop short, so he made himself comfortable.

"Let me get this out of the way first," he began. "I still think you're a freak, and I still don't like you the same way I like my son."

"Okay… sir?"

"No, no, no. Let me finish," Vernon continued. "You know what happened the day after Graham came by with those girls of his?"

Harry shook his head.

"He put the fear of God into Petunia and I if we didn't do right by you after that day," he admitted. "Every couple weeks – we wouldn't know when – he'd show up. Give us gifts, but we knew, he'd be looking if we were doing what he said. Never knew when he'd appear. He'd been our boogeyman, that first year."

He took another sip of the wine before continuing.

"It was a year after that when he dropped by again. Told us why he'd go through all that trouble for a freak like you. Know what he told me? He said that what we're doing is… what do you call it… a self-serving… self-cleaning… self-fluffing…"

"…Self-fulfilling prophecy?" Harry asked, and Vernon nodded enthusiastically, letting out a belch.

"Yes, that's right!" Vernon exclaimed. "A self-fulfilling prophecy. Said that the best way to make you not hate normal people growing up is to just treat you normal. Whatever we think, whatever we feel about you, we treat you correct anyway."

He laughed, though it was slightly tinged with bitterness.

"Well, would you look at that. I'd never believe it, but a freak like you would grow into a good man. Still don't… but… you've done right by us in return. And Dudley. You're a good man. Freak or not. That Graham fellow… he was right. Never believed his words… but they did come true, eh?"

"…They certainly did."

"Chin up, boy! You're not just a good man: you're family. Help your aunt and Dudley out."

"I will," Harry said, and he stood up to go.

"And Happy New Year," his uncle added as he passed him by.

"Happy New Year too, Uncle," Harry replied, turning back to see the old man raise his wine glass in a toast to him before he went to the kitchen to assist with the cleanup.

Everyone went to bed, and when they got up for breakfast the next morning, Vernon Dursley was good-naturedly complaining about his head aching a bit due to drinking the wine that was meant for his dear wife Petunia. He saw his nephew already setting the table, then giving him a nod.

For the life of him, he couldn't remember what he said and what happened after the fireworks and before bedtime.

Must have been something insignificant.

Life in 4 Privet Drive went on after the holiday.

***

"What's this got to do with what's going on now?" Dumbledore asked, once Harry was done with his story.

"If I was raised by the Dursleys to dislike or hate them, then I'd turn into the thing they feared," Harry explained. "Someone told them a better solution, treat me normally, and I'd treat them normally back, avoiding a self-fulfilling prophecy."

"And you think I'm making another one here?"

"Because you think I'm this big threat to the school," Harry replied. "I mean, have I done anything that would add weight to your suspicions?"

"You've seen Tom's time here at school… before and after the chamber incident."

Ouroboros laughed.

"Professor, you must really think so little of me if I repeat my mistakes with Harry here," the Device said, "but that's neither here nor there."

Harry was prepared for another verbal confrontation between his Device and the headmaster when an idea struck him.

"Professor Dumbledore, how about this? Since my Device has the Dark Lord's repository of magical knowledge, I'll remove the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position on my last day of school."

"If you know how the counter-curse works…"

"I would have done it immediately, but then, it would be so easy for you to get rid of me. This way, Tom and I have insurance."

The old man stiffened for a moment… and then started laughing out loud.

"I say…" he said after he regained his bearings. "You drive a very hard bargain. All right. You can consider yourself under my protection for your seventh year, Harry. But you had better be prepared to do what you promised."

Harry nodded.

"Of course. After all," Harry added, "once my seventh year here is through, this will be the last you will see of me."

The old wizard couldn't help it; pain was clearly written on his face when he heard of Harry's future plans.

"With how much trouble comes to you, I think that wherever you go would be better equipped to handle it than Hogwarts or this country's wizarding society," Dumbledore said after a while, earning a smile from Harry. "Now, let us return to Hogwarts. Wouldn't want to disturb the ones sleeping here."

"Are you planning to return? Get the corpse in the lake out?"

"In time, Harry."

Another twist later, and the two of them found themselves just outside of the Hog's Head… and looking up, where a familiar skull was lighting up the twilight skies above Hogwarts.

As Professor Dumbledore hurried inside to get some brooms, Harry just sighed.

This just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?

Indeed. For all your academic and extra-curricular activities, you have forgotten quite a few things along the way.

Don't remind me now.

***

 

[Nitramy]

A/N: This snippet is dedicated to Dame Maggie Smith.

***

"I am that man."

***

Because of the anti-apparition wards around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, the headmaster of Hogwarts and the school's Apprentice found themselves in a bit of a bind, as they had to run… except Harry Potter summoned what he called his Device and just blatantly defied gravity.

"Jump on my back, Professor," Harry said urgently.

They made it to the main entrance in seconds, and when Dumbledore knocked on the door, it was the business end of the wands of Hogwarts faculty that met him.

"It is I," Dumbledore said calmly. "What has happened?"

"Someone cast the Dark Mark," the Deputy Headmistress replied. "The school is on lockdown while we search for the perpetrator. The intruder wards have activated, but the perpetrator has proven to be quite elusive."

Harry's mouth tightened into a thin line.

My former fan club is finally making its move.

Want to make a small wager as to who cast the spell?

Sucker bet.

"I still am not confident in leaving you by yourself, Harry," the headmaster said. "It is best you head down to the dungeons and meet with Professor Snape."

The professors saw a flash of distaste dart across his face, but with a quick "Yes, sir,", Harry made his way down the hallways leading to the dungeons.

"Halt, who goes there?" a terrifying rasp came as Harry found the entrance to the Slytherin common room. "Ah, the apprentice. What sequence is the Shoal of Four Branches?"

"Ingwaz, Nauthiz, Algiz… and Ansuz," Harry replied with confidence, and the Bloody Baron chuckled darkly at the answer.

"And you even got it in order, too. Enter, Apprentice. Your Mentor is within."

The door opened silently on well-oiled hinges, and Harry entered a scene of absolute chaos.

"Everyone, stay with your year mates!" he heard Pansy's shrill voice cutting through the cacophony. "Oh, Merlin… why did he choose to disappear at this time?"

Harry immediately made his way to her.

"What's wrong?"

"We're in lockdown, and I've been getting my assistants to do a head count," Pansy replied, her voice shaking. "We're all here, and I've run the countdown twice, but…"

"We have a snake in the grass?"

"How did you–" she said, momentarily surprised. "No matter. This is the fifth head count, Professors Snape and Vector are already on their second check of the castle."

"Any luck?"

"None," Pansy said, and Harry now could see how hard the sixth-year prefect was trying to keep it together. "Oh, if only I could get more from his two men Friday than 'urgent business'! I'd be of more help than herding snakes…"

"Well," Harry said, trying to add calm to his voice, "you're doing a good enough job holding up the fort."

She sighed.

"Daphne, Tracy and Blaise have been of great help with the lower years, it's good that Crabbe and Goyle have also assisted me, but it's been close to an hour, and I have a really bad feeling about…"

Whatever else she was planning to say died down when the door to the common room opened, and the two professors stepped in.

"Potter. What are you doing here?" Professor Snape asked.

"Professor Dumbledore arrived with me a few minutes ago, they're locking down the school. Said to go to the dungeons and stick with you," Harry replied. "Everyone's really on edge here. What's happening?"

"Draco Malfoy has vanished," the Defense professor replied, his voice even more solemn than usual.

Harry took a moment to size up the situation, and saw that Professor Vector was now talking to Pansy. He turned to Professor Snape, and lowered his voice.

"I'll be able to find Draco in a moment, if you'll allow me to help you with the search, sir," he said, and the Defense professor nodded his approval.

"Septima!" he called out. "I'm going for another round, maybe third time's the charm with my apprentice backing me up. You can take care of things here, won't you?"

She turned to Professor Snape.

"I will. Stay safe, the both of you."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, and then the two of them were out the door.

***

They were in the hallways when Harry already had Ouroboros in pendant form clutched in his hand.

"Ground control to Major Tom."

"Understood. Initiating Multi-Dimensional Lock."

Several moments later, the two of them were running to the Room of Requirement.

Harry had gone on ahead, and found someone staggering out of the room – their quarry, Draco Malfoy.

He weakly raised his wand arm at Harry when he heard the footsteps, only to find his wrist caught in an iron grip.

"Draco, your house mates have been looking for you!" he whispered. "I can smell the dark on that wand, too! Using a throwaway to cast the Mark?"

"You don't know what I've had to do," Draco retorted weakly. "I've put myself to the breaking point here!"

"Why go through all the trouble?" Harry asked back.

"My father… they have my father! I need to cooperate with them!"

"Tell me what kind of fuck-up you've done, Draco," Harry said after letting out a sigh. "I can't cover for you any more, you know this. But at least we can get our stories lined up right."

Mere moments until Snape arrived, Draco confessed.

"I have to create a diversion. The man who has my father needs to speak with Dumbledore, and he cannot be seen here."

"So, you cast the Dark Mark?"

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"Malfoy," Snape's voice echoed in the dim light of the hallways, and with his dark cloak billowing behind him, strode forward like the dungeon bat he was purported to be by the students.

Draco closed his eyes and prepared for the worst.

"Run back to Slytherin House," Professor Snape said, wand at the ready and pointing at the doorway of the Room of Requirement. "Now."

He didn't need to be told twice, and immediately made himself scarce.

"Harry," he added, voice a knife's edge, "with me."

It was the second time Harry had placed Ouroboros in combat mode this day, and as he pointed the Device at the door, he found himself anticipating a long, knock-down, drag-out fight.

Moments passed, and as the tension grew, Harry could feel a bead of cold sweat roll down his brow.

Something that seemed like the aftermath of magical transport erupted from within the Room, and a few moments later, the doorknob began to turn.

Snape and Harry readied themselves for the worst.

"I surrender!" a voice came from within the Room of Requirement, and when the door was flung open, a wizard was within, arms raised in surrender and wand on the floor.

When he saw the welcoming party, the unnatural grin on his face made Harry think that something was not quite right here.

Stay alert.

I know.

"Apologies on making my poor errand boy cast the Dark Mark on my behalf," the wizard continued. "It was the only thing I could think of that could shock this school into hiding… and it did a very good job of it, I say."

Snape picked up the wand. Another throwaway.

"Standard operating procedures during a lockdown at this school is three hours," the wizard kept going, even as he was being marched down the hallways. "That means I have… an hour to speak with Headmaster Dumbledore."

"You started all this just so you could speak to Professor Dumbledore?"

The blond wizard scoffed.

"He still makes others call him 'Professor'? Pardon my Belgian, but that is the humblest way to brag I've ever heard," he said insouciantly. "Oh, where are my manners. My name is Thorfinn Rowle."

Snape gave Rowle a skeptical look, but motioned for him to keep walking. As the large wizard was being taken to the headmaster's office, Harry was in conversation with his Device.

This is too weird, even for me.

How come?

Do you sense it?

Sense what? Magic?

Or the lack thereof.

Son-of-a… you're right, Tom! This guy is just a shade short of being a squib. No magical power whatsoever.

And judging by how Snape is watching him like a hawk, I think he also knows this now.

I still don't get it. Why is a Death Eater squib doing all this?

Looks like we'll find out soon enough.

They knocked on the door of the headmaster's office, and when Dumbledore bid them enter, the old wizard saw the man they were bringing in, and his eyes started to spark.

Not twinkle, not sparkle, but spark – as if the headmaster's gaze was boring holes into the intruder.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

***

Harry and Snape were about to leave: Snape back to the dungeons and Harry towards the apprentice's quarters when the intruder spoke up.

"Harold Graham or Harry Potter. Severus Snape. Whatever that thing you call a wand. Please, stay. This also concerns you," the wizard said in answer to Dumbledore's question, his tone of voice dramatically changing.

"I never expected you to take these measures."

"Neither did I," the wizard said. "I assume you've heard the news?"

"What do you mean… the Death Eaters have been raided. Malfoy Manor was locked down and the aurors got most of them. Those Death Eaters?"

"Oh, please, Albus. Those weren't Death Eaters. Just a bunch of stupid kids fresh out of Hogwarts who think the real world is just magic school with extra steps. Life's going to put them on the back foot too far for them to worry about that outdated way of thinking."

"What about the other Death Eaters?"

"There are none left, Albus."

"You're standing before me."

"Lucius Malfoy is only holding himself together through sheer willpower to get to the end of next year, to see his son graduate. I don't think you truly understand what's going on… Albus."

The man's voice grew dark as he continued speaking.

"You're talking about Brazil."

"Yes, I am talking about Brazil… and what happened down there."

"We still don't have a complete account of what happened in the jungle. Paraña, the ICW, Aurors, even MACUSA… all of them have conflicting accounts over the Brazil events. Don't tell me you know what's going on."

"Not as much as I like. Only that I went here at great personal cost, because of my link with my personal biographer."

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he let out a strained gasp.

"Then… I never thought…" he trailed off, and the large man began to shrink, his features aging as the transformation magic began to wear off.

A familiar face was looking at Albus Dumbledore.

"Why would you go this far…" Dumbledore asked. "Gellert?"

***

"Gellert…?" Harry asked.

"…Grindelwald?" Snape asked.

"One and the same," the old wizard answered.

Dumbledore felt the faint trickle of power coming from his old rival, and shook his head.

"You forsook everything just to come here," he said. "Why?"

"Remember our promise?" Grindelwald asked, closed his eyes for a moment, and then laughed. "No… not THAT promise. The one before that, the one when we were much younger."

Dumbledore closed his own eyes for a second, cataloging his memories… and then they shot open.

"You've had a change of heart?"

"Not really," Grindelwald replied. "Time has softened my heart, but I still believe my course is just. But you have felt it, haven't you? Something has come to life. Something that spells doom for the entire world."

He took a deep breath.

"Something That Should Not Be."

"This was why you sacrificed all but a mite of your magic to escape," Dumbledore said, after a minute of tense silence passed in the headmaster's office. "Typical of you."

"That, and I was able to abscond with what Rowle had written before he was ordered to Brazil," Grindelwald admitted before turning towards Snape and Harry. "There are details I need to discuss with Albus privately. You will be informed about what they are in the passing of time."

"Yes, yes," the headmaster concurred. "These details are not for either of you to know for the time being."

Somehow, as Harry returned to the apprentice's quarters and Snape to the dungeons, he could feel the sincerity in the old Dark Lord's words – there was something running around that scared someone like Gellert Grindelwald enough for him to escape from prison and warn his old enemy at Hogwarts about it.

What was it…?

These thoughts followed Harry Potter into a fitful slumber.

***

More notes: Gellert Grindelwald's ability to transform into Thorfinn Rowle is also a part of how he was able to escape prison.

 

[Nitramy]

A/N: And with this, we answer a lot of unanswered questions and wrap up Sixth Year. This snippet will also be appended to the latest chapter in ff.net because of its brevity.

***

Thanks, But No Thanks

***

With the matter of the "spy" escaping the Death Eaters and claiming sanctuary in Hogwarts, the end-of-year celebrations quickly returned the school to its usual high spirits.

And with the return of high spirits, Harry found that his former House classmates were emboldened to try and speak with him.

To mend fences, so they said.

It was after he gave them a noncommittal answer that his Device spoke to him, while he was currently trying to take a nap in the apprentice's quarters.

Harry.

What is it?

I understand your need to be a good apprentice to Professor Snape, but that does not mean you have to be as antisocial as he is.

I am not antisocial.

Yes, yes, and your next words will be 'I have friends from other Houses'.

I have friends from other… wait a damn minute. Have you been translating Dudley's comics again?

Dudley's friend calls them manga, but no, that is not the point I'm trying to make.

What is it, then?

Don't you think you ought to face Hufflepuff House at last? You could fight them off… at least until Susan Bones or Megan Jones pulls down your pants. Then it's the Night of the Living Dead.

Harry let out a sigh as he lost himself in his thoughts of a while.

You know what? Harry told his Device after a minute or so had passed. I think I might just straighten the entire deal out with Hufflepuff House.

That's the spirit.

At least, make sure Professor Sprout is around, just to take the… what's that phrase you used… honey trap out of the equation.

All right, at least there's one less worry on your mind after we deal with this.

Yeah, I'm supposed to be taking it easy during this week, not stressing myself out over badgers, badgers, badgers, badgers, and badgers.

***

"So, are you finally coming back to us?"

That was the last thing Harry heard clearly: MacMillan and Abbot finishing their well-rehearsed speech once he had been summoned into the Hufflepuff common room by their Head of House.

His green eyes snapped back into focus as he looked at the two prefects standing before him, while the entirety of Hufflepuff House was eager to hear his reaction.

"Thank you," he told them, and as the two prefects sat back down, the excitement in the audience quickly simmered down as they saw the sadness in Harry's eyes, even though he was still smiling politely at them.

"Let me begin by saying that I hold no hard feelings or ill will towards any of you," he declared. Though he sounded just a little bit louder than his normal speaking voice, the gravity of his speech caused everyone there to hear each of his words clearly.

"However, I will have to apologize to you, as the betrayal this House has wrought upon me has cut me too deeply for me to be able to let bygones be bygones, or forgive you during the remainder of my stay at Hogwarts."

The crowd gasped.

"It will probably take more time for me to deal with this. Maybe five, ten years?" Harry asked. "I honestly don't know. Besides, once I complete my education here, I will be taking my talents elsewhere."

He saw the throng of sixth- and seventh-year Hufflepuff girls with their eyes watering – it didn't take Legilimency to figure out what they were thinking.

"But do not be alarmed and blame yourselves for my decision: I have been preparing for a long time to venture beyond these isles, even before the Triwizard Tournament," Harry clarified. "That means, whatever you have done or plan to do while I am here has nothing to do with any of my future plans."

The girls' eyes grew hopeful. It was a cold comfort.

"It also means while I will continue to be civil with you, it is best that you do not consider me a part of Hufflepuff House from here onwards, nor make attempts to 'bring me back'."

He gave a light bow to his former Housemates, and turned to leave.

However, someone spoke up before Harry could take a step off the stage.

"So, that's it? You're just disregarding everything we've done, everything we're doing, and everything we'll do to make things right by you?"

Harry turned to the male prefect.

"You're forgetting to ask a simple question," Harry said, his voice still even. "What makes you think I want you to 'make things right' with me?"

The other prefect chimed in.

"We already knew we made a mistake. We were influenced to do this… please don't punish us any further."

Harry gave Hannah a sad smile.

"Do you…" he said, and looked at each member of Hufflepuff House in the eyes before turning back to Hannah, "understand the magnitude of what you've done to me?"

Murmurs spread among the members of the House.

"It's bad enough that the only interaction I can stomach with you is in a strictly educational capacity," he answered, and some of the older students couldn't help but wince upon hearing that.

Several moments passed before someone spoke up.

"How can we fix this?" Professor Sprout finally asked.

"It's simple," Harry replied. "Just leave me alone. I've handled it well enough for two years already; what's two more?"

When no one answered his question, Harry began to walk away.

"Good day to all of you," he declared with finality as he gave them a friendly wave, then turned back towards the doorway, taking confident strides out of the Hufflepuff common room, while leaving a bamboozled House in his wake.

***

Things Remaining Unsaid

***

The days leading up to the end of term and to the Hogwarts students returning home for the summer were uneventful.

Parties, celebrations, even a dog-and-pony show by "Thorfinn Rowle" about how he defected from the Death Eaters thanks to the bravery of Draco Malfoy (Snape and Harry put THAT bit of chicanery together, much to Dumbledore's consternation and Grindelwald's amusement) filled the time to allow the upper years to relax from the barrage of testing they had just endured.

Even informal associations had the same level of energy – Harry's stint with the golden trio as the Dueling assistant during remedial Defense was nothing more than lectures and more stories from their guest lecturers: Aurors that they had brought in.

Funnily enough, the Aurors saw "Rowle" with suspicion, but the old wizard knew how to keep his cover intact, and even sat in one of several of Harry's own dueling practice sessions.

"You would have made a killing in the dueling circuit," he had told Harry as they were leaving the Room of Requirement, after that elective finished. "Unfortunately, I had never made the acquaintance of the Witch who is sponsoring this school. It is a shame, since I would have loved to talk shop with her."

"It is a shame, indeed, sir."

"Hmm. I should probably write my own theoretical inquiries and have her answer them in her own time… you have opened a line of communication with her, while she spends the years in the Land of Shadows, do you not, Mr. Potter?"

"I do indeed, sir."

"That's wonderful."

Grindelwald sighed.

"It is truly a disgrace that I will never have the chance to speak with her. But… I think it is one of the prices I have to pay… spread so much chaos, all just to make a better world…"

"Do you regret it, sir?"

"It is too late for me to even begin to have regrets, Mr. Potter. All that remains in the time I have left is atonement."

The old wizard's expression grew somber, and upon figuring out that the conversation was over, Harry nodded solemnly at the former Dark Lord before returning to the apprentice's quarters.

***

It was during one of Harry's NEWT review of rituals keeping him up at night when he ran into a heavily-redacted passage on horcruxes.

That's not the omnibus on horcruxes. All I'll say about that is that I found a book about it in the library back then.

With what Professor Slughorn admitted to, that's pretty easy to deduce, Tom. But that's not the interesting part. You see all these runes? The main sequence of the ritual is redacted, that much is known. But what is making these runes draw power from the ritual, and what are these supplementary sequences for?

He pointed towards a set of illustrations on Magicke Moste Evile, where the structure of the horcrux ritual was depicted, the relevant parts blacked out.

You know what…? I have no idea.

I mean, if all you need to do is partition your soul, what is with all these runes?

You're on thin ice with Dumbledore already.

I know.

Ouroboros sighed.

You're still going to risk it.

I will.

Your resemblance to me at this point is uncanny.

It's not about the ritual. It's about solving the mystery.

I hope you can convince Dumbledore to give you access to the book.

It's worth a try. Just to get this uneasy feeling off my back.

***

True to form, Dumbledore said no.

"Professor," Harry explained even as the headmaster had him yet again at wand point, "it is not the ritual itself I need to see. I need to read the notes Herpo and Bullock wrote on why they had to add the extraneous runes for the ritual to succeed."

"Just those passages?"

"Just those passages, professor."

The old wizard's eyes twinkled before he gestured with that weird wand of his, causing lines to be written on a blank sheet of parchment, the relevant passages in "Secrets of the Darkest Art" copied and placed for Harry to read.

***

"Thorfinn Rowle" was confined in one of the abandoned classrooms in the upper floors, close to where Dumbledore's office was.

It was apparent that the location of Rowle's house arrest was to keep him in close proximity to the strongest wizard in school premises. He was also warned to not communicate with other students or faculty, except those who were in on the truth of his identity.

After several sleepless nights where Harry tried to make heads or tails of the passage Professor Dumbledore had given to him, he made his way to that classroom, and maybe get a different viewpoint from the headmaster's greatest rival.

"Sir," Harry said, and the old wizard approached the door.

"Mr. Potter," he responded blearily. "It is way past your bedtime."

"I have not slept well for several days since reading this, sir. I was thinking to ask you a few questions."

"I will try to answer them the best I can."

"Sir, have you considered partitioning your own soul?"

What little magic in the old wizard recoiled when Harry asked that question.

"You would have to be completely and utterly insane if you ever thought I would do such a thing," Gellert Grindelwald replied. "I have done my fair share of atrocities in my lifetime, but I would not go so far as to do what I think you are alluding to."

Harry took a step back from the anger of the former Dark Lord.

"Apologies, sir," he croaked out. "It's just that… Dumbledore had given me a passage from 'Secrets of the Darkest Art', about the ritual to partition the soul. Frankly, sir… it makes no sense. Part of the ritual powers the process, but there's around a third of the magic relayed to the runes. The passage doesn't explain what happens to the magic or why it's being diverted like that."

"Oh."

The old wizard sat back down.

"I did consider it," he admitted. "But I did not go through with creating a horcrux of my own, as there was not enough knowledge on the subject, not enough written on the risks."

"You had the book, sir."

"I did. But even Bullock himself admits that large parts of Herpo's writings were lost. Oh, if only we could have preserved Alexandria…"

Harry stood bolt upright as his mind was struck with the sheer force of revelation.

"You leave for home tomorrow, Potter?" the old wizard asked, which snapped him out of his reverie.

"I will," he said. "And thank you, sir."

Gellert Grindelwald shrugged, and returned to sleep.

The boy would solve that mystery for him. Part of being a Dark Lord is, after all, letting your subordinates do your work for you… if they've proven they're competent enough.

***

The Leaving Feast was like a blur through Harry as he pondered the ramifications of what the former Dark Lord Grindelwald had said.

Alexandria.

Herpo's unabridged tomes on horcrux creation were in the Library of Alexandria.

It was thought to have been lost, but was preserved thanks to the sacrifice of Eustiana von Scrya, also earning the eternal enmity of the Scrya clan towards the Earth.

Thoughts of going to the Infinity Library were swirling through his head, even through the feast and the train ride home.

Even his Device's voice was a distant echo in his head, as the target of his obsession loomed larger and larger even as Hogwarts castle slowly went below the horizon as the Express chugged along.

***

"How was Smeltings?"

Harry asked the question on the first dinner he and the Dursleys had after his return home. Petunia was taking care of baby Lily, while Vernon was looking proudly at his son.

"I might be eligible for an A-Level next year," Dudley replied, beaming.

"Hope you're not breaking old Jerry's heart," Harry remarked, as he remembered the old man who owned the boxing gym his cousin practiced at.

"I'm not. I'm just keeping up my training. Not getting into any fights until after next year or if I get my A-Level."

"My boy's becoming quite good at the sweet science, Harry," Vernon said, pride tinging his voice.

"I'd like to see that," Harry concurred.

"Oh, right! I also remembered," Dudley said. "Remember the cruise you got for us? I made a couple friends over in Japan, trying to learn English while I'm trying to learn Japanese, too."

"Ah," Petunia said in the distance. "So that's where you got those ghastly comics from. Is that what they read over there?"

"Ma, they're called manga over there!" Dudley called back. "Sorry about that, Harry."

"Hah, I thought your friends were giving you kid's stuff," Vernon remarked. "It's like a black and white medieval England story, though I still can't understand it like Dudley does… what was its title again?"

"Da, it's called 'Berserk'."

"Also good on you for swapping your old Judge Dredd comics to that friend of yours. Your mom would've thrown them away, thinking you're too old to be reading that." Vernon's voice dropped to a whisper. "In fact, Pet couldn't believe what she saw when she read that Berserk for the first time, thought it was kid's stuff."

Harry gave a hesitant chuckle at the byplay, and the rest of dinner proceeded without incident.

***

IT IS AWAKE

***

Much to Harry's relief, his request to spend a weekend at the Bureau was quickly accepted – the crew of the Asura had already known about the boy from UA97 that Graham assisted more than a decade ago.

"You don't want to stay here for longer?" Admiral Graham had asked, and Harry said no.

"There's something I need to search for in the Infinity Library," Harry admitted.

"You'll need clearance and an adult accompanying you, in that case."

"If you won't be available, I can call on Mr. or Mrs. Flamel…" Harry trailed off. "But I'd rather have you help me out here, sir."

"That I can do, since we're on light duty until the month is done."

From there, it was a matter of going to the Infinity Library, and asking the librarian there – a member of the Scrya main house named Labyrista – for assistance, even giving her the author's name and a copy of the parchment Dumbledore had written for him.

Half an hour later, Labyrista returned with several books, all of them from Herpo the Foul.

He opened up the notes on horcrux creation…

…and it was but a few moments later that the missing pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

Harry Potter and his Intelligent Device were stopped short by the words of the long-dead Dark Lord.

This is wrong.

This should not be.

Wait, didn't the old Dark Lord say…

We need to return to Hogwarts.

NOW.

***

Harry Potter was fidgeting in the Knight Bus, tapping his foot and looking anxiously out the window as the scenery flew by.

"Anxious, sir?"

Harry shook his head.

"Just wish this bus could get to Hogwarts faster, that's all."

"Well, sir, we're already going as fast as we can go."

"I know."

***

"What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?" the Deputy Headmistress asked upon seeing an exhausted Harry Potter drag himself into the Main Hall of Hogwarts. "The school year ended last week."

Harry took a few breaths to steady himself and stood up straight.

"I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore immediately."

"Well, you'll have to wait until tomorrow. He and Professor Snape are out on some top-secret business."

"And Mr. Rowle?"

"In his room upstairs, writing."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Harry said with a thankful bow, and quickly made his way to the stairs, leaving his things for the House Elves to move to the apprentice's quarters.

***

Gellert Grindelwald – in the guise of Thorfinn Rowle – was in the midst of writing a passage in his memoirs when the door to his room was rocked by a fist pounding.

"Hold on," he said. "Is it truly so urgent that you have discarded decorum – ah, Mr. Potter. You have returned."

"I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore right now."

"You know why he's away with Professor Snape – they're looking for horcruxes of the Dark Lord."

Harry Potter shook his head.

"That's not the problem. I found what the extra runes in the horcrux ritual were for, sir. They weren't magic storage."

His face was pale when he managed to squeeze out the words.

"They're system protocols."

Grindelwald's eyes widened.

"Tell me more."

***

"…so, Muggles from this world and beyond have managed to create such wonders," the old Dark Lord said. "To the point where, in another world, their magic and science are melded together harmoniously."

"That's right, sir."

"My magic should be raging at this moment, given how my view of the world has been changed so thoroughly," he thought aloud. "But my ego does not matter right now. What do you mean, system protocols?"

"Herpo wrote them down here."

"The horcrux might not but hast a means of protecting itself, which I hast gleaned from the remnants of the slain gods themselves. They speak of a giant 'i white that struck the lot of 'em down, a giant named Sefar. 'tis from the annals of Zeus and his pantheon, that I am able to create these steps from which the divided soul can interact with the orb at large, and thus regain power equivalent to the soul 'twere halved from."

Grindelwald read the note with shaking hands.

"That's not the worst of it. Read this."

"Should the creator of this artifact perish or leave this world, the artifact will begin autonomous procedures."

Harry pointed to Bullock's notes.

"Bullock called it the Lazarus Protocol."

"And you think it activated?"

"Barty Crouch, as part of a deal he made with the Witch of Dun Scaith to regain a body for his master, surrendered to the Time-Space Administration Bureau," Harry answered, and then his eyes lit up in recognition. "That would have… wait, Cedric was possessed as soon as Riddle and Crouch were taken away!"

Grindelwald nodded.

"But…" Harry continued. "What is the Thing That Should Not Be?"

"You should know the answer to that, Ouroboros," Grindelwald replied, looking intently at the pendant Harry was wearing. "You were a Dark Lord once upon a time. If there's anyone who knows how those horcruxes think… it's you."

Harry's Device went very still after that remark.

"I do. And none of it is good."

***

The two wizards were standing on the edge of the road, gazing upon an empty plain, with the only thing of interest in the dead earth wisps of smoke filled with remnants of dark magic here and there.

"Albus, this was supposed to be where the ring was," Severus Snape said, before spreading his arms at the desolate landscape.

"So… where the hell is Little Hangleton?"

"It appears the worst has come to pass…" Dumbledore gasped out. "It looks like my old friend was right. We need to return to Hogwarts immediately."

***

Year Six - END

***

Some notes: In this story, Draco (and presumably Pansy) are still Prefects in 6th year. Harry being a part of the Inquisitorial Squad to keep them from trouble may have had something to do with that.

Also, in this story, the Horcrux ritual was created by Herpo the Foul based on scraps of magical theory and data left behind from the battle between the White Titan and the Greek Pantheon.

Q: What's with Grindelwald's behavior?
A: He's a seer. And he is also pragmatic enough to put aside ideological differences and work with opponents if there is an existential threat to the magical world.

Spoiler: Q: What is "The Thing That Should Not Be"?

The Thing That Should Not Be is an amalgamation of several of Voldemort's horcruxes that have become sentient, distorted, and feral as they have taken on more qualities of the beings they have possessed than of the Dark Lord itself.

From here, you can make an intelligent guess about what happened in Brazil, to the Death Eaters, and to Little Hangleton. Lucius was far enough away from the incident, and he was STILL fucked up enough that he's out of magic and is doomed to kick the bucket.