CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO –
In the Pale Moonlight – First Year
The Diary of Hermione Jane Granger – June 29th, 1992
Dear Diary,
Well... I've just completed my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I wish I'd never left my blasted diary at home. So much has happened.
First of all, for the first time in almost five years, I've made a friend. His name is Harry James Potter. I'd heard of him, of course, when I was collecting my schoolbooks. He was in several, since he's the one who vanquished an evil wizard a decade ago. How he did this, no one knows, not even him.
I met him in Flourish and Blotts, and he gave me a book, Mudbloods and Purebloods, which is offensive to Muggleborn, or as Harry calls us, First-generation, witches like me. I then encountered him again on the Hogwarts Express, and I wasn't very nice to him.
Then, I had the dubious pleasure of meeting Malfoy and his squad of Slytherin goons. Lovely people. Calling me a Mudblood, which is the Wizarding world's insult, saying that I have dirty blood.
After Harry broke Draco's nose, which was really quite amusing, he introduced himself to me properly. And that was it. I was hooked. He didn't belittle me, tease me, call me names. He's the most generous-spirited person I know.
It was Halloween, though, that cemented it. After an encounter with the youngest male Weasley (I really don't like him, either) I ran off crying into one of the girls' toilets. A troll, which we later found out was let in by Professor Quirrell, made it's way into the bathroom. Trolls are on average 9-12 feet tall, tremendously strong, and have spell-resistant skin. Had the troll successfully attacked, I would have been gravely injured, at best, or possibly killed. I wasn't though. Because of Harry. He physically beat the troll, then left, not wanting to claim the credit for his heroic deed.
Other people tried to claim the credit, and I, being my usual bossy self, told Harry to get up. I wish I hadn't now.
Damn him, anyway. That boy drives me absolutely crazy. The last couple of months, I've been having dreams about him that make my brain melt. His adorable mussed-up hair, his sexy green eyes... It's enough to make my heart melt into my chest.
There's other things about Harry as well. People generally say that an eleven-year old boy is an open book, easy to read and predict. The people who say that have never met Lord Harry James Bloody Potter. That boy has knowledge about things that just seems impossible. He also exudes... a presence, that's all I can describe it as. He has knowledge, power and control. Damn me if it isn't a little intimidating.
He's also had a horrible life up until he started Hogwarts. Just before school let out, Professor Dumbledore told Harry that he would have to go back to his abusive relatives. Harry took me, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick to the hospital wing, where he asked for a medical examination.
My god... that poor boy! He told us about beatings, broken bones and whippings with an air of detachment... He's been abused, and Professor Dumbledore just wanted to send him back to that hell for nearly ten weeks! Harry refused, but I get the feeling that Dumbledore won't stop trying. I wonder how far he'll go...
As the train pulled into King's Cross, bringing us all home, Harry and I remained on the train. I really didn't want to get off, and come home. I wanted to stay with Harry, just for a few more minutes. He asked me to be his girl. I said yes... but what does it mean? I mean, I'm only twelve, soon to be thirteen, and he's not even twelve yet... From what my mum told me about boys, making a move like this means he wants something from me... but he doesn't act like it at all. I mean... he's kissed me, on the cheek, and forehead... but he's never pressed me for more than I'd be willing to give... And Mum and Dad like him... he acts so much more mature than an eleven-year old would.
It's almost as though he's already gone through puberty, and can fight off his hormones. Better than I can, at any rate.
I find myself asking the same question over and over again, whenever I think about him: Who are you, Harry Potter?
The Records of the Potions Master
Experiment #842: Wolfsbane Modification failed.
Had encounter with Potter brat before end of term feast. Stunned and used Legilimency on him. Has developed mindscape. Incredible mental control. Will be difficult to kill. Will continue observations until time to act.
Oh yes... I will kill the offspring brat of Potter...
The Daily Prophet – June 30th, 1992
The Boy-Who-Lived Saves Us Again?
By: Rita Skeeter
Rumours have circulated that at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the 'Boy-Who-Lived' is again battling Dark Wizards. Quiriness Quirrell, who was hired as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, attempted to steal a priceless magical object, known as the Philosopher's Stone, which was being guarded at Hogwarts by Headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
I approached the Headmaster, who refused to comment. I approached Nicholas Flamel, noted alchemist and the creator of the Philosopher's Stone, who also refused to comment. Mr. Potter was also unavailable for comment.
What happened at Hogwarts school? Why was such a powerful and dangerous magical item being kept in a school full of children? How did the 'Boy-Who-Lived' manage to stop a Dark Wizard with only a first year's education? More on this breaking story as it becomes available!
Harry James Potter – Personal Log
July 1st, 1992
Well... I'm back from Hogwarts. What an... interesting year. So far, I feel my mission to not interfere with the timeline has produced... adequate results. Obviously, some things have changed. I didn't have to spend a week in the hospital wing (yay!) with Pomfrey, always a bonus. I didn't go into the Forbidden Forest and see Voldemort, which again is a bonus.
I think I've managed to add a couple of things to the timeline that should help. When I encountered Quirrell-mort in the chamber, I gave him the impression that I was a nut. Hopefully, he should underestimate me when we meet in person in '95. I've also been providing Sirius with a few necessary items to help with his incarceration. Food and clothing should help him. Hmm, just remembered what he looked like when I saw him for the first time. I think I'll include a toothbrush in the next care package. Some deodorant probably wouldn't go amiss either.
Snape's been getting right on my tits. From September 1st to Christmas, the bastard had tried Legilimency 133 times. Add another hundred or so from New Year to when we broke up. He then had the testicular fortitude to stun me, and try to mind-rape me. Of course, when he entered my mindscape, I kicked the crap out of him. The next time he tries it, I'm just gonna burn his brain. See how the greasy bastard likes that.
Okay, my hand's getting sore from all this writing. I'll be glad when I buy that laptop, so I can just record or type these entries.
In a flat in Diagon Alley, a young man sat alone. It had been four days since he'd left Hermione behind at the train station. Four days of being alone in his flat. He'd spoken to her by mirror, several times a day, but it just wasn't the same as being with her in person. Feeling her hand automatically seek out his. Smelling the faint vanilla traces from her shampoo. Just feeling the warmth of her body next to his.
He'd lasted almost a century without her, ever since she was killed in the Final Battle, but the last four days hurt. Spending everyday for ten months had reawakened his passion for her, which hadn't truly abated, enough to drive him crazy.
With a sigh, he dropped to the floor, carrying on with his training. Two hundred press-ups later, his arms were burning, as he flopped over, jabbing his feet under the couch, and started his sit-ups.
A chiming from above his television sounded, snapping him out of 'the zone'. "Accept!" He called to the mirror.
"Hello?"
"Morning, Harry!" Hermione's voice filtered over the mirror. "What're you doing?"
Harry grunted as he did his fiftieth sit-up. "Morning exercises."
In Crawley, a young lady was holding a mirror, watching it with fascinated delight. In it, she could see her new boyfriend, exercising vigorously. Hs back, horribly scarred but still quite sexy, showed his muscles rippling as he performed his sit-ups.
Emma Granger entered the kitchen, trying desperately to stifle a yawn. She detested mornings, convinced they were the creation of some evil super-being. She ambled over to the coffee maker, idly wishing she was back at Harry's, so she could enjoy his secret super-coffee, but would settle for own brew... for now.
"What're you doing, honey?" She asked her daughter.
Hermione didn't look her, just stared into her mirror with awe and a hint of lust in her eyes. Emma just shook her head, plucking the mirror from her daughter's hand. She looked into it, seeing Harry performing a rather brutal set of exercises. Keeping in mind that she was old enough to be the subject's mother, she cast an appreciative glance. I can certainly see what Hermione sees in him. She noted, thrusting the mirror back at her daughter when the coffee maker pinged for her attention.
"Hey, Harry?" She called into the mirror.
"Yes, 'Mione?"
"What're your plans for the day?"
In the mirror, Harry stopped his exercises. He turned round to face her. "Not a lot. I need to trip to Gringotts to get some metal, and I could do with popping to PC World, but other than that, I'm free."
"Metal? What do you need metal for?" Hermione asked, the thought of some new knowledge tickling her brain.
The reflection of Harry just grinned. "Do you remember that project I was telling you about? The Portkey research? It's for that."
"Oh... well, do you fancy popping round here later on? We could start on our homework."
Harry gasped. "Do you mean to tell me that you've been home for four days, and you haven't even started your homework yet, Hermione? I'm shocked... really."
Hermione, in a shining example of maturity, stuck her tongue out at him. "Homework doesn't rule my life, Mr. Potter. I admit, I like to get it done early, but it's not the most important thing in the world to me." You are. She added mentally.
"Shouldn't be a problem. As soon as I'm showered and dressed, I'll pop over."
"Showered and dressed?" Dan repeated, entering the kitchen. "Why are you talking to my daughter if you're not showered and dressed?"
"Morning, Mr. Granger." Harry called up. "At the moment, I'm doing my exercises, so I am clothed. I should probably have said, 'dressed for the day'."
"Oh." Dan sat down at the table, handily stealing his wife's coffee. "Anyway, morning, Harry."
"I'll see you later." Hermione said, blowing a kiss at the mirror. Harry's face broke into a warm grin, that sent a tingle down her spine, before she tapped the mirror, closing the connection.
Dan and Emma shared at glance, smiling at their daughter's rather blatant infatuation.
Harry completed his ab-crunches, flopping onto his back as his stomach burned. It may be good for me, but Christ, it hurts! He sat up, wincing as his stomach protested, then recoiled as he caught a whiff of himself. Oh, yeah... shower time.
It took a little under 20 minutes for him to shower, maul his hair down from 'shocking' to 'messy, but it'll do', and dress, before he was out of the door, striding down Diagon Alley. Entering Gringotts, he waited patiently in line, watching people engage in their normal business. His visit to Gringotts was for multiple reasons; first, he wanted the Goblins to procure the necessary supplies for building his Portkey project, and second, he wanted to check on his parent's will. That was something he hadn't done in the original timeline, just believing what Dumbledore told him.
I really was a naïve prat last time. He noted idly, as he watched a little old lady hand in a small pile of sickles, wanting it to be put in her vault. He felt a stab of sympathy. There was no such thing as the old age pension in the Wizarding world. If you were poor, there was little you could do to change that situation. She ambled away, an aura of misery hanging over her head.
He approached the teller, bowing slightly. He looked at the nameplate on the desk. "Senior Teller Snatchmore."
The goblin snarled at Harry. "What?"
"May your gold flow freely, Senior Teller." He said in Gobbledygook, startling the goblin. "I would like to request a favour. Could you please add this to that lady's deposit?" He handed over a pile of gold coins. "Don't tell her where it's come from. Just add it."
Snatchmore eyed him for a moment. "And why would you give gold away, sir?"
Harry just shrugged. "Sometimes a good deed is it's own reward." He pushed the gold forward, then pulled back his hand. "Now, Senior Teller, I would like to speak to Account Manager Griphook, please. At his earliest convenience."
Snatchmore nodded, straightening up in his chair. Account Manager Griphook was in charge of the Potter account, one of the largest held in Gringotts. "Lord Potter?" Snatchmore asked quietly. Harry just nodded. "Would you come with me, please?"
Griphook's office was elegantly, but lavishly appointed. It appeared that working with the rather large Potter account had done wonders for him. Since Gringotts took a four percent handling fee, three for the bank and one for the advisor, it was plain that he'd made some quite good investments.
The goblin looked up as he saw his client walk in. "Lord Potter. It is... agreeable to see you again."
Harry's jaw dropped. Shit... For a goblin, that was practically a declaration of love. "Account Manager Griphook. May our endeavours bring us gold, and smite our enemies."
"May we dance on the bones of our enemies, Lord Potter." Griphook replied, smiling at Harry. "Please, sit. How may I serve you today?"
This is really weird... Harry noted as he sat down. Goblins are never this nice... "I'm curious, Account Manager. Your conduct with me is rather... atypical of a Goblin account manager."
Griphook grinned. "Lord Potter-"
"Harry, Account Manager." Harry interrupted. "I prefer 'Harry'."
"Very well, Harry." Griphook made a notation. "Now, my 'atypical behaviour' is a result of our recent dealings. We have made a considerable profit on your account, allowing Gringotts to make a profit, and myself as well."
Ah. To make a goblin smile, make him rich. "Excellent, Account Manager. I have come here for some routine matters regarding my account, as well as looking at some investment strategies. If this would not be an inconvenient time for you?"
"I am at your disposal, Harry." Griphook said. "What can I do for you first?"
"I forgot when I came in last summer, to look into the will of my parents, Account Manager. I would like to do so now, if possible."
Griphook nodded, tapping his ledger with a hooked finger. "I am summoning the document from our archives now, Harry. While we wait, is there any other matters?"
Harry pondered for a moment. "Actually, yes. I was hoping you could tell me what transactions have occurred on my account between the dates that my parents dies and I arrived at Gringotts. I have never received a statement for my account."
Griphook turned the pages in the ledger, coming to the account history. "There were several transactions and investments made by Albus Dumbledore on the account, during your... absence, Harry."
"What?" Harry's voice was cold. "Dumbledore was taking my money?"
"No, Harry." Griphook shook his head. "Albus Dumbledore made a standing order on your account, to be triggered on September 1st, 1991. This is standard for all Hogwarts students. It would have been set up by your parents, but they passed away before it could be done."
Harry leaned back slightly, a little less angry, but still confused. "What else?"
"He made investments on your behalf in the Nimbus Broom company, as well as several Muggle companies. A company called... 'AOL'? As well as two food companies... one called 'PG' and the other 'Cadbury's'."
"Huh?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore made investments for me? Isn't that against the banking code to let someone else access my account?"
Griphook nodded. "In most cases, yes. However, since you were placed with Muggle relatives, it was deemed... unwise to allow them to access your account. Your affairs in the Wizarding world have been watched over by Mr. Dumbledore."
Harry nodded. It made sense... "Were they good investments?" Harry asked.
Griphook tilted his hand in a 'so-so' gesture. "Financially speaking, they were not the most profitable investments that could have been made. However, since there was no one available to direct the account, Mr. Dumbledore made investments in low-risk, reasonable return endeavours. There was little chance of the food companies lowering in value. In fact, over the ten years you were away, they made returns of almost two thousand galleons. As I say, not the most profitable, but reasonably secure."
One hundred thousand pounds... Not too shabby, Albus. "What about the other investment?"
"Hmm..." Griphook looked at the ledger. "It's a Muggle company. I, personally, don't know what this 'interweb' is, but it has a much higher return. That has made almost six thousand galleons in the last four years."
Another three hundred grand... So, Albus' interference has given me enough money to live comfortably in the Muggle world for twenty years. Or ten years reasonably affluently. He nodded. "And what about your work on my behalf, Account Manager?"
Griphook smiled a feral smile. "We've moved your money around mercilessly, Harry. By taking an... aggressive nature, we've managed to clear a profit of almost ten thousand galleons since last July."
Harry whistled through his teeth. Five hundred thousand pounds net profit? Good lord... wish I'd done this the first time around."Excellent work, Account Manager! I believe I pay four percent charges, yes? Three for the bank, and one for you?" Griphook nodded. "I'd like to increase that to five percent. Three for the bank, and two for you. With such excellent work, I believe more profit should be sent your way."
Griphook's feral grin got wider. "You know how to deal, Harry, an excellent skill for a young wizard. Are there any companies you wish to invest in at the present time?"
Hmm... which company was up and coming in the early Nineties... Ah, mobile phones! "Yes, Account Manager. I would like you to invest in mobile telecommunications companies. Orange, Vodafone, Mercury(1) and Cellnet(2). I believe these companies should increase our wealth considerably." He watched the greedy goblin make a note. Ah, motivated employees... such a thing to behold.
The heavy ledger in front of Griphook chimed. "Ah, your parents' will." He flipped the pages, quickly reading it through. "Pretty much standard. In the event of both of your parents becoming deceased, all properties, assets and titles become yours. A trust is set up to provide for you while you're in school, then the full amount is accessible to you once you come of age." He looked up. "Of course, since you are an emancipated minor, you have full access."
"Nothing else?" Harry asked. "No bequests for my parents' friends or family? No conditions that should be made regarding my guardianship?"
Griphook quickly scanned the document. "No bequests were specified. I would speculate that it would be up to you to decide to distribute any wealth necessary. With regards to your guardianship, in the event of your parents' death, your guardianship should revert to either Mr. Sirius Black, or Mrs. Alice Longbottom. In the event that they were unable to take you, you should be sent to an appropriate family, where you will be cared for properly." He looked up again. "Usually, this is done through the Wizarding Child Services department of the Ministry of Magic."
Well, that wasn't bloody done in this case, was it? Harry thought to himself. "I see. There was one other thing that I was hoping you could assist me with, Account Manager." Griphook merely raised an eyebrow. "I require access to some metal. Rather... uniquemetal. It's an alloy." He held out a piece of parchment to the goblin.
"Hmm... A hyper-alloy, if I'm not mistaken." He read through. "These are rather... specific requirements. Twenty-two percent titanium, forty-three percent Kevlar... Kevlar? I'm not familiar with that metal."
"It's a Muggle invention. It's very strong, but it's not a metal, it's a molecular polymer. Used by Muggles to prevent projectiles from penetrating flesh. It's a form of armour. Used by the Armed Forces."
Griphook nodded. "What else... fifteen percent platinum and twenty percent molybdenum. A curious mixture, Harry. These sizes?"
"I need three sections seven feet by three feet, two three-feet square pieces, and finally, two pieces seven feet by eighteen inches. Each section needs to be approximately one and a half inches thick. I also require a set of metal working tools of industrial-strength diamond, as well as several drilling pieces." He watched Griphook make some notes. "How soon can it be obtained?"
"It may take several weeks for the alloy to be created. Assuming that we can obtain the necessary supplies."
Harry rolled his eyes. "A thousand galleons if it's ready within the next seven days."
"Done." Griphook said instantly. "There's also a few other pieces on here. 'A twelve inch sphere'?"
"Housing for a reactor." Harry replied. "I'm already working on the necessary components for that." Please don't ask.
Griphook nodded. "Very well, Harry. We shall contact you within the next week." He glanced at Harry. "Assuming this mixture is effective, would you consider selling it to the goblin nation as armour? If it's as effective as you say."
"It's too heavy." Harry replied. "Each of the seven-foot pieces weighs just under a ton. It wouldn't be practical as armour."
Griphook pouted, a truly disturbing expression on a Goblin. "Very well."
"There's one last thing. I need to make some purchases at a Muggle store. Do you have a way for me to make said purchases without carrying a bundle of cash?"
With another nasty grin, Griphook snapped his fingers, creating a plain white plastic card. "A new invention. The Gringotts debit card."
Harry took the card and smiled. Goblins truly were the most impressive magical species, closely followed by the House-Elves. Witches and Wizards were considerably further down the list. He stood up. "I thank you for your time, Account Manager. I realise that you are busy, so I will leave you to your work. May your gold flow freely."
Without another word, Harry left the office, passing through the lobby. Now... some shopping in the Muggle world.
It was an hour later when an exhausted and extremely frustrated Harry Potter apparated into the Grangers' back garden. With a muffled grunt, he knocked on the door, watching as Emma's head appeared in the window, before she opened it.
"Hi, Harry." She said brightly.
"Hmm." Harry grunted, before he remembered his manners. "Morning, Mrs. Granger." He followed her into the house, placing his bags on the floor.
"What's wrong?" Emma asked, sitting down on the couch.
"Bloody PC World..." He snarled, before he gathered himself. "Sorry. I was shopping in PC World, and had to fight the damned sales rep to get what I needed."
Emma winced. "Yes... we went there to get some equipment for the office... they're not the most polite people in the world, are they?(3)"
He just snorted, and slumped on the couch next to her.
Hermione came bustling into the living room, seeing her boyfriend slumped on the couch, she 'eeped', and dashed over, wrapping him in a 'Hermi-hug'. "Are you all right?"
"In a minute." Harry mumbled into her neck, enjoying the sensation of Hermione pressed up against him. After a few moments, he pulled back, looking better. "Thank you, My Only." He whispered into her hair.
"What's wrong?"
Harry sighed. "Just went shopping. Damned sales reps... they'll be the death of me. You go in, you know what you want, and they have to try and upsell you, don't they? Can't just let you walk out with what you want."
She just snickered prettily. "What were you shopping for?"
"A few computer supplies." Harry said vaguely. "It's for that project I'm working on."
"Oh..." Hermione had only a vague idea of what he was actually working on, so she just shrugged. "Did you get your metal?"
"Yep. Goblins said it should be ready within the week. Then, I just need to put it together. With any luck, should be ready by the end of the summer."
"And you're still not gonna tell me what it is?" Hermione asked, smiling coyly at him.
"Nope. Be a surprise for you." Harry replied smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, what do you wanna do today?"
"Mum wants to go to Alton Towers." Hermione replied. The children looked at Emma, who was smiling and nodding like a child, causing both of them to roll their eyes.
"Sure." Harry said. "Let me just drop all my goodies at home, and I'll be right with you." Without standing up, Harry extended his hand, summoning his shopping to him, before vanishing with a tiny pop. Less than thirty seconds later he was back, still in sitting position on the couch. "I'm ready."
After an exhausting day at the theme park, Harry slumped on the couch at the Grangers'. The prospect of returning home didn't appeal, since the flat was empty, apart from Hedwig. Then again, she'd taken to stalking the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron, hoping to find a couple of fat mice.
He was about to offer to cook dinner, when an alarm went off. With a muffled curse, Harry tapped his watch. "Someone's in my flat." He said to the Grangers.
Hermione stood up, drawing her wand. "I'll come with you, Harry." She said.
"No." Harry replied. "You're not authorised to use magic over the holidays." He stood. "I'll need to investigate." With another faint pop, he vanished.
As he reappeared inside his home, Harry sent out a wave of magic. It was a nifty little combat trick he'd learnt in the future, acting like sonar and bouncing off other magic. His wave detected four other magic users inside the room. As he fully materialised, his wand was pointing at the most powerful of the four. "Identify yourself!" He snapped.
As his eyes focussed, he saw Dumbledore, McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey sitting on his couches, looking startled. With a sigh, he sheathed his wand, and made his way over to the communications mirror hanging above the television. With a jab on the rune button, he called Hermione. Her worried face appeared in front of him.
"It's the Professors from school, My Only." He said warily. "I'll call you later." She nodded, and vanished from view. Harry turned round sharply. "You know, when I told you all where I lived, I didn't exactly mean it as an invitation to come round whenever you felt like." He directed his gaze to Dumbledore. "Why are you here, Headmaster? Last I recall, I was behaving in a fit of 'childish rebelliousness'. I'm surprised you still want to speak to me."
Dumbledore looked down at his hands for a moment. "The other professors believed I should come and speak to you, Mr. Potter."
Harry sighed heavily, before heading into the kitchen. "I'll put on some coffee."
With the coffee on the table, Harry sat down on the couch, next to McGonagall. "So, what's the reason for breaking into my flat at seven o'clock in the evening?"
Dumbledore looked up, offended at being told he was breaking into someone's abode. The fact that he actually was breaking in didn't enter his mind. "We needed to speak to you, Mr. Potter. About your summer arrangements."
Harry's eyebrow arched. "If you think you can tell me to go back to the Dursleys, Headmaster, you can bugger off now. I will never return to Privet Drive. You'd have to take me by force."
Flitwick cleared his throat. "Frankly, Harry, we're not here to force you to do anything."
"That's a good thing." Harry said firmly.
"For the last few days, Harry, we've been in discussion with regards to your living arrangements." McGonagall said firmly. "Professor Dumbledore believes you should return to your Aunt's house, stating that there are special wards available to you, that will protect you from anything."
"Except the Dursleys themselves." Harry retorted. He turned to the Headmaster. "Do you not remember the conversation we had last New Year's, Headmaster? I explained to you about the Dursleys being abusive. How they took pleasure in beating me. And now, you want me to return to them."
"They are your family, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said firmly, lacing his words with magic, a form of low-level compulsion. "I'm sure, if we explained the situation to them, they would become more supportive."
Harry turned to Pomfrey. "Did you show him the results of your medi-scan?"
She shook her head. "I can only divulge critical information, under the school's medical charter. That basically means I can tell the Headmaster if he is able to obtain emergency supplies. Routine medical exams are not included."
"So, Headmaster... after telling you earlier this year that the Dursleys don't like me, you think I should just forgive them, and move back, correct?"
Dumbledore nodded. "Forgiveness is a priceless gift, Harry. They're the last of your family. You should reach out to them. Embrace them as family."
McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey snorted. Harry maintained an passive expression, staring at the old man. "What's your real reason?" He asked quietly.
"My... my real reason?" Dumbledore asked warily. "I simply want to make sure you get along with your family, my dear boy. Family's very important."
Harry sat back on the couch, not taking his gaze away from Dumbledore. "What's. Your. Real. Reason?" He asked again, his voice turning icy cold.
"I'm not sure what you're implying, Harry."
"Aren't you?" Harry asked mockingly. "Let me ask you something else, then, Headmaster. Would you normally take this much interest in an orphaned student of yours? Would you work so hard at getting them to return to abusive relatives? Or am I just a special case?"
Dumbledore looked uncomfortable, but surged ahead. "As the 'Boy-Who-Lived', Harry, you're very important to the Wizarding world. After your recent brush with Lord Voldemort, it is very important that you stay safe. Behind the wards at your family's home, you would be safe."
"Hmm..." Harry rested his steepled fingers under his chin. "Under certain circumstances, which can never happen, that may be true. However, I still don't believe you."
"I'm not certain what information it is that you seek, Harry." Dumbledore said, taking a small sip of his coffee.
"What is your goal here tonight, Dumbledore?" Harry asked sharply. "Assuming everything went how you wanted it to, what would happen?"
"You would return to your family at Privet Drive. Ideally, you would send your owl to Hogwarts, so that she cannot be tracked."
The other three Hogwarts' staff members watched their leader warily. Harry nodded slowly. "You wish me to remain locked at my relatives' house. I presume that, under ideal circumstances, I would be confined to the house, and incommunicado, yes?"
Dumbledore nodded.
"And what is your reason for these restrictions?"
"As I have stated, Harry, it is purely for your own safety. Not all of Voldemort's servants and allies were captured ten years ago. Some of them may try to harm you."
"I see." Harry said. "And the fact that I would be held there, against my will, would generate considerable gratitude towards yourself when I was 'rescued' by you at the end of summer, wouldn't it? I could be a good little pawn for you."
Dumbledore looked offended. "What? How could you think that of me? I have only the greater good in mind, Mr. Potter. Everything I do, I do for the betterment of our world."
"Yes, that was the argument you used when we were back at Hogwarts. I asked you then how my returning to Privet Drive was for the greater good. I have some issues with that, which I will bring up later. You still have not explained, to my satisfaction, how returning to the Dursleys will serve the greater good."
Pulling off his glasses, Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Mr. Potter, why do you persist in this argument? I have tried to make it clear to you that I know what must be done. All I ask is that you trust me."
"No." Harry said simply. "Frankly, you've done very little to inspire trust in me. You have basically told me what to do, in my personal life, with no reasons given. 'Return to the Dursleys'. Translation: go somewhere where they will starve you, and try to break you, so you'll be a good little weapon for the great chess-master'. We've had this conversation. Your reasons didn't work then, and they won't work now." He stood up, refilling his coffee cup. "If there's nothing further, Headmaster, I'll ask you to leave."
Dumbledore back-tracked. "Why do you distrust me so, Harry? I've made sure that you were protected for the last ten years."
"You left me with abusive bastards!" Harry hissed. He jumped to his feet, ripping off his shirt. He turned to Dumbledore. "You see the results of your 'protection', old man? The Dursleys tried to beat the magic out of me. Obviously, it failed, but the effort was still there!"
Dumbledore's face had turned white. "What did you do to earn such a beating?"
"Earn?" Harry hissed, his tone dropping icy cold. "I did nothing to 'earn' such a beating! It was my tenth birthday present from the bastards!" With a snarl, Harry hurled his cup onto the wall, just above Dumbledore's head. "Why didn't you check up on me? I know Arabella Figg is a squib, reporting to you!"
"She never reported anything of the sort to me, Harry. You must believe me!"
"Right now, old man, I wouldn't believe you if you told me water was wet!" Harry shouted. "I was abused for ten years... why? Because you couldn't be arsed checking up on me! It wasn't your place to put me with them in the first place! I should have gone to Alice Longbottom, or been put with a Wizarding family! Why did you interfere?" Harry was now red in the face and panting from containing his anger.
McGonagall was pale; she'd seen the horrific scars on his back before, but they still made her feel sick. She'd been involved in Harry being left at the Dursleys. She'd warned Albus that they were 'the worst sort of Muggles', but he'd still left Harry there.
"At the time, it was the safest place to leave you." Dumbledore said weakly.
"Safe?" Harry parroted, snarling at the old man. "You call this 'safe'? What the bloody hell's your idea of 'dangerous'?" Without waiting for a reply, Harry stomped into the kitchen, willing himself to calm down. Even though he had a century of Occlumency experience, his rage didn't want to be stamped out. He took a few deep breaths, grabbing a bar of chocolate from the fridge. He scoffed it down, letting the smooth, milk chocolaty goodness work its magic on him.
After almost five minutes, he walked back into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch. "Now, explain to me why going to the Dursleys would be better for me."
"T-The blood wards will protect you from Dark wizards looking for you." Dumbledore stammered.
"Blood wards are useless without the appropriate emotional connection from both parties, Headmaster." Harry replied in a neutral tone. "Since she hates me and I hate her, they won't work. Next point?"
Dumbledore gathered his wits. "Harry, it is better for you to stay there. If you connect with your family, you will have a protection Voldemort could never penetrate. Surely you can see the benefits to having that protection, not only for you, but for your family as well."
"They are not my family." Harry replied, not bothering to get upset anymore. It was plain to him that Dumbledore wasn't listening to him. "She hates me and I hate her. The Blood wards will never work. Next point?"
"Harry, please. I must ask that you trust me. You should return to your family, and reach out to them. It's for the greater good that you have a place of protection."
"They hate me and I hate them." Harry monotoned, not really listening any more. He turned to McGonagall. "Professor, am I speaking English here? I'm sure I am, but he doesn't seem to be getting it."
"You are speaking English, Harry. I, personally, agree with you." She turned to face her boss. "What's the real reason, Albus. I know you. You never do things without a reason."
"I do have my reasons, Minerva, but at the moment, I can't share them." He looked weary. "It's an unfortunate responsibility that comes with being the leader of the light. I'm not always able to pass on all the information that may be required."
"You're the leader of the light?" Harry asked, watching Dumbledore nod, as though carrying a great burden. "That's great, but how the hell does that give you authority over me?"
Dumbledore looked at him strangely for a moment. "I am your Headmaster, Mr. Potter. I am the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. The Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards."
"True." Harry admitted. "But that doesn't relate to me. The Wizengamot can't get involved in my situation, since it's nothing to do with them. The ICW won't get involved. And yes, you're the Headmaster of Hogwarts. But, since I'm seriously considering not returning, because of your actions, how is that relevant?"
"Not returning?" McGonagall and Flitwick said together.
"It's his fault." Harry said defensively, pointing at Dumbledore. "I mean... why does he have such an intense interest on my summer arrangements? If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was trying to make sure I'm kept weak and pliable."
All three adults turned to Dumbledore. "Albus?" Flitwick asked icily.
"I am not trying to keep Mr. Potter weak, hurt or vulnerable. Indeed, my actions are solely for his protection. The wards at Privet Drive-"
"Are useless!" Poppy snapped, interrupting Dumbledore. "We have proof that they do not work! This has been explained to you several times, Headmaster! Why are you not listening?"
"They would work if Mr. Potter cared about his relatives." Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with disappointment in his eyes.
"Get. Out." Harry said, not looking at Dumbledore.
"My boy, please reconsider. You're leaving them defenceless. And for what? Some misguided attempt to establish your own independence?"
"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed. "How dare you?"
Harry's eyes lit up, casting light around the room. He slowly swivelled his head to look at Dumbledore. "If that is what you truly believe, Mister Dumbledore, then our discussions have come to an end. I will not return to Hogwarts. I will simply leave the Wizarding world. Since I'm obviously so dangerous, I'll make sure I'm not around."
Dumbledore quickly back-pedalled. "That's not what I mean at all, Harry, my boy! I simply wish for you to do this, for the greater good! Don't you care about the greater good of the Wizarding world?"
Damn, I honestly can't believe this man. Harry thought. His eyes powered down, returning to their normal state. "Listen to me, Mr. Dumbledore, for I shall say this only once; you will tell me, right now, why you are so interested in me, or you will leave me alone, forever. I have had enough interference in my life from you."
"Interference?" Dumbledore asked. "In what way have I interfered with your life?"
Harry just stared at him incredulously. "You... sent... me... to... the... Dursleys." He said slowly. "Frankly, I'm getting bored of having this bloody conversation. You're not listening to me. You keep spouting the same tired lines to me, that will not work."
"I am listening to you, Harry." Dumbledore replied. "But, I do not understand where all this mistrust has come from."
"You've done nothing to inspire trust." Harry replied simply. "You've interfered several times. What did the Sorting Hat tell you?"
You'll find he's nothing like the rest of the children in this school. The memory of the Sorting Hat's warning flared up in Albus' mind. "What do you want?" He asked, in a defeated voice.
Harry suppressed a small smile. "I want my freedom, Headmaster. I want the answers to my questions now, regardless of whether you think I am too young or not. If you answer my questions to my satisfaction, I may consider trusting you. Lie to me, or withhold information, and you'll never see me again. Are we clear?" Harry's voice was as hard as diamond and cold as ice.
Dumbledore just nodded.
"First of all, why are you so interested in my summer arrangements, notably sending me back to the Dursleys, when I've already given you damned good reasons for not returning?"
"In a word; safety. As I explained earlier, if the Blood wards were working correctly, you would have an impenetrable defence against Voldemort and his followers."
"And I have explained to you that the Blood wards will not, and will never work, because of the mutual hatred between my relatives and me. Since I have explained that numerous times, why do you keep insisting that I return?"
"I... they could be reconstituted, if the familial bonds were there." Dumbledore looked meek and pliant, something Harry had never seen, even with his future knowledge. "I was hoping that they could be rebuilt."
Harry nodded. "That's part of the answer. Why are you so concerned with my summer arrangements, though? With all due respect, it's not your place to worry about orphans. It would be part of the Wizarding Child Services department at the Ministry."
"It was because of my actions that your parents are dead." Dumbledore replied. McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey gasped as they considered the implications of that statement.
"You mean, it was your suggestion that they went into hiding." Harry clarified. He already knew this, but the others didn't.
"Yes. I suggested that they used the Fidelius charm to hide themselves. I gave Lily the information on how to cast the charm. If I had done something different..."
"'For of all sad words of tongue and pen/the saddest are these: it might have been.'" Harry quoted. "John Greenleaf Whittier. I can understand your... devotion, to my well-being, Headmaster. And I appreciate that devotion. But your actions are less than appreciated. You have never once asked me what I want to do."
Dumbledore grunted. "I'm 152 years old, Mr. Potter. In my fifteen decades of life, I've never seen an eleven-year old with a decent understanding of the way the world works."
"Because you hadn't met me." Harry retorted without hesitation. "I have an excellent understanding of how the world works." He shook his head. "Now, my next question: why was the Philosopher's Stone brought to Hogwarts?"
"Protection." Dumbledore answered simply.
"Protection from what?" Harry asked. "And why now?"
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment. Harry could tell, however, that this was not hesitation born from lying, but simply how to answer the question. "There have been... rumours, that Dark wizards were seeking the stone. I don't know how much you know about the stone, but it's powers cannot be underestimated."
"Two powers." Harry said. "Immortality and economics. I can understand your desire to protect the stone. However, why did you do it the way you did? Why hide it with traps? Why not under a Fidelius charm? Or behind wards? And why did you announce it to the school?"
"I'm not sure what you mean." Dumbledore said.
"You announced the presence of a highly dangerous magical artefact to a bunch of children, Headmaster. You told them where it was. Avoid the third floor corridor. I can't believe that you're so removed from the youth of today that you don't know that saying something like that will immediately gather their attention."
"It was a fair warning." Dumbledore said defensively. "Telling people not to go there should ensure that they don't."
"No." Harry replied, shaking his head. "Telling people not to go there would pretty much guarantee that they would go there. But, no matter. Why wasn't it under a Fidelius? Or behind wards?"
McGonagall cleared her throat. "It's very difficult to add wards to Hogwarts, Harry. Hiding something behind a new ward in the castle is problematic, at best. That's why we laid traps."
Traps that a trio, or even a duo, or students can get past. "Fair enough." He turned back to Dumbledore. "Another question: why did you try and influence the Sorting Hat to put me in Gryffindor?"
"I... I felt that Gryffindor would better suit you, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, not looking Harry in the eyes.
"Really?" Harry asked, bemused. "Somehow, I don't believe that. The Sorting Hat is another powerful magical artefact, specifically designed to sort the children based on their personalities. Influencing that decision means that people aren't going to their proper places."
"As I stated, Mr. Potter, you would have been best placed in Gryffindor."
"You mean, it wouldn't be appropriate for the 'Boy-Who-Lived', the 'Vanquisher-of-Voldemort' to be a Slytherin? Also, by putting me into Gryffindor, you could persuade Ron Weasley to be my friend, thereby assuring that I remain 'true to the light', by being associated with a confirmed-light family, yes?"
Dumbledore nodded sheepishly. "The Weasleys are good people, Harry."
"I'm sure they are. Ron's an arsehole, though. Fred and George are cool, but they've told me some disturbing things about their sister."
"Oh?" McGonagall asked.
"Yeah." Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Apparently, she's a BWL-groupie. She's never met me, and is convinced I'd be the perfect husband for her." He glanced up suddenly at Dumbledore. "Tell me; did your plans for me involve me marrying the young Miss Weasley? Keeping me attached to a light family?" He stared imperiously at Dumbledore. "And tell me the truth."
"In a word, no." Dumbledore replied, looking faintly insulted at the suggestion. "Would I force you or Miss Weasley to become betrothed? No. Would I like to see it... well, yes. She's a representative of an old, powerful light-side family. Politically, a good match."
"And if I wanted to date a Muggleborn?" Harry asked. "If I wanted to 'pollute my bloodline with Mudblood filth', as I believe a student at Hogwarts called it. What would the old families say about that?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "With respect, Harry, I really don't care." He shrugged. "Your romantic life is your own. I would not try to steer you from it. I would recommend that you date and marry for love, instead of political or financial power."
Harry nodded slowly, happy with the answer. "Now... the larger issues. Do you, or do you not, have plans involving me in the future?"
Dumbledore stared at Harry for a few moments, remembering what he'd said earlier in the conversation. 'Lie to me, or withhold information, and you'll never see me again.' "In a word, yes."
"I see." Harry leaned back on the sofa. "And why do you have these plans?"
"You will need training, Mr. Potter. Training that only I and a few select others can provide to you, to ensure your survival in the Wizarding world." Dumbledore gestured to his fellow educators. "There are things that you will need to learn from us."
"You make it sound so... Orderly, sir." Harry replied, smirking internally as he watched the teachers flinch.
"That brings me to another topic, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said, slowly starting to regain his form. "Your knowledge. You said when I share more with you, you would share more with me. I believe that it's time to complete that transaction."
Harry shook his head. "At the moment, sir, I have little-to-no trust in you. I trust Minerva, Filius and Poppy more, but not enough to share that much." He gave Dumbledore a look that was both condescending and patronising, a look he'd been the recipient of, more than once. "All in good time, Headmaster."
"Mr. Potter, you must-"
"I 'must', sir?" Harry asked icily. "I 'must' do nothing. I will share when it is relevant. Not before." He glanced down at his watch. "Look at the time. I think it's time to go, people. I need to call Hermione, then I'm gonna go in the bath and go to bed. I'm knackered."
"Harry?" McGonagall said, placing her hand over his. "Will you be returning to Hogwarts in September?"
Harry looked up at Dumbledore. "Will I be free of manipulations, or will I need to search for another school, Headmaster?"
"I resent the suggestion that I am manipulating you, Harry." Dumbledore said stiffly. "I am simply trying to guide you, as you become more accustomed to the Wizarding world."
"If you're trying to guide me in becoming 'accustomed to the Wizarding world', why do you want me to hide in the Muggle world during the holiday?" Harry retorted. McGonagall could have grinned. It was a damned good question...
"As I have stated, Mr. Potter, it is for your own safety." Dumbledore replied, near-glaring at the young wizard.
"Indeed." Harry said dryly. "If I'm free of the Headmaster's manipulations, I will return."
Flitwick, Pomfrey and McGonagall stepped in between Harry and Dumbledore. "You will be free of any manipulation, Harry." McGonagall stated. "I'll make sure of it myself."
The foursome began to leave. "Oh, one more thing." Harry called out, stopping them in their tracks. Dumbledore turned round slowly, wondering what else the boy was going to saddle him with. "Sort out your dog, Headmaster. If Snape tries to Legilimens me one more time, I will rip his mind to shreds. I know you need him, which is why I've tolerated it so far. But no more."
McGonagall's head span to Dumbledore so sharply, Harry idly wondered if she'd get whiplash. "I... I will have another talk with Severus." The old man said weakly.
As soon as they had gone, Harry made his way back over to the mirror above the television, tapping the rune. "You heard?" He asked.
"Yes." Hermione's voice replied. "That's a cool function of these mirrors." She looked at him intently. "Would you really leave Hogwarts? Leave me behind?"
Harry shook his head. "No." He said softly. "I could leave Hogwarts... but not you." Her reflection smiled warmly at him. He sighed heavily. "He's not gonna let it go, My Only. He'll keep interfering with my life. 'For the greater good', of course."
"Why? That's what I wanna know." Emma's voice came drifting over the mirror.
"I could hazard a guess," Harry offered, "but without more data, I'd be reluctant to do so." He slumped back onto the couch. "I've only been here a year, and already the old man's pissing me off." He muttered.
"We'll get through this, Harry." Hermione offered. "You and me... we'll get though it."
He looked up at the mirror and smiled, a genuine smile. "You and me." He said, winking at her, then chuckling when Hermione blushed prettily.
The following day, after his relaxing bath and sleep, Harry rose, performing his morning ablutions: have a piss, brush his teeth, do his exercises, shower the stink of his work out off, and drink enough coffee to wake up every student at Hogwarts. He padded into the living room, unpacking his shopping. He opened up the boxes, pulling out the GPS scanner he'd bought, along with a laptop, several connection cables, two mobile phones, and an abundance of software and miscellaneous peripherals.
He set up the laptop, charging the battery. Once it was charged, he'd be able to add a charm that would mean it would never need charging again, and a second charm to make it work in a magic-rich environment. He quickly began work on the basics of the main console, conjuring basic sheet aluminium as required. As a non-noble metal, it could be conjured, and with enough power, it could be made to be permanent, instead of fading as most conjured items would.
He worked for the next forty hours, not noticing that he was neither eating nor sleeping. He'd put together the components necessary. Now, all he needs was the metal from the goblins, and he could begin the last part of the physical construction.
As soon as he was finished, he slumped back, letting sleep overtake him.
"Mum?"
"Yes, Hermione?"
Hermione looked down at her lap, before asking her question. "We're going on holiday to France, aren't we?"
Emma nodded. "Yep. Only for a fortnight this year, sadly."
"Do you... erm..."
"Hermione, spit it out." Emma said, her mind suddenly lowering itself to the gutter as she thought of her daughter's relationship with Harry. She only hoped that piece of advice wouldn't be necessary for a while.
"Do you... could Harry come with us?" She asked tentatively. "He said he's never been on holiday before. His relatives always left him with a neighbour whenever they went on trips or holidays."
Emma fumed inside for a moment. Some of her best memories were her childhood holidays. "I'll have to ask your Dad, but I don't have a problem with it."
"Can we ask him now?" Hermione asked, near-bouncing in her seat.
"Sure." Emma shrugged, walking to the doorway. "Dan!" She shouted.
"Yeah?" Dan said, from right next to the door, causing his wife to jump.
"Jesus, don't do that!" Emma scolded him, before swatting at his arm. "Damn it, Dan, I've told you about that before."
He shrugged, grinning impishly at Hermione behind Emma's back. She just rolled her eyes at her parents' antics. "Daddy, can we take Harry with us when we go to France?"
Dan thought over the details of their holiday. "Not easily, princess." He replied. "The hotel's booked, as is the flight." He noticed the disappointed look on his daughter's face. "I'm sure, though, we could book him a flight, and see if the hotel has another room available."
Hermione's face lit up. It was both comforting and disturbing for Dan Granger; comforting, because his daughter was happy, and disturbing, because it was over a boy, irrespective of the fact that Dan liked the kid.
"Why don't you ask Harry, sweetie?" Emma said. "I'm sure you carry your mirror around with you, wherever you go."
With a sheepish smile, Hermione reached into the back pocket of her jeans, pulling out the little communication device. "Harry Potter!"
Harry woke up to hear his mirror chiming. With a grunt, and several swear words, he rolled over, wincing as a crick in his neck straightened itself out. I am never sleeping on the bloody floor again. "Accept." He told his communication mirror. "Hey, Hermione. What's up?"
"Are you all right?" She asked him. "You look... untidy."
"Fell asleep on the floor. Was working on my project. As soon as I get the stuff from the goblins, I can put it together."
"Huh. Okay... anyway, I was just asking my parents about you joining us on holiday. You said you've never been on holiday before."
Harry was shocked by his future-wife's thoughtfulness. "No... I haven't." He said slowly. "But... wouldn't it have already been booked?"
The mirror shifted positions, the sudden change making Harry a bit dizzy. "Harry?"
"Mr. Granger. Morning, sir."
"Good morning. Now, we're staying at the Victoria Palace Hotel, in the centre of Paris. I'll have to check to see if they have rooms available. Do you have a passport?"
Harry shook his head. "No, but that may not be necessary. If you can provide me with co-ordinates, I should be able to Apparate there. Also, with regards to the Hotel, the Goblins own the penthouse suites in a number of hotels around the world. It's possible that they can book it for me."
Dan sucked air through his teeth. "That would be very expensive, Harry. The Victoria's a 5-star hotel."
"Sir, in the last ten months, the Goblins have made investments earning me nearly five hundred thousand pounds. Not to mention money that was made while I was staying at my relatives. I can swing this, easily, sir."
Dan just looked at him curiously. "You made half a million pounds in less than a year?"
"Yep. Not to mention, I only pay one and a half percent in income tax. Two percent on Muggle-based income. Should be able to afford a week in France."
"Fortnight." Dan corrected quickly. "Anyway, we're actually setting off the day after tomorrow."
"Cool." Harry replied, already composing the missive he'd send to Gringotts. "This is gonna be the best summer ever."