CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX –
Laying Down the Law
Harry woke up the following morning, a crick in his neck and a knot of tension in his stomach. Retreating into his mindscape, he quickly located the source of his doubts and worries. Bloody useless git...He groused. On the bridge of his mental ship, Harry's tactical side pummelled 'The Counsellor' into unconsciousness, releasing the pit of tension. What better way to get rid of angst and misery that some good old fashioned violence? He smirked to himself. Hermione always used to say that I should get in touch with my emotions. Wonder if she meant I should hold it down while punching seven shades of shite out of it?
He sat up from bed, stretching. "God, I love Occlumency..." He muttered, clambering to his feet. "Right... whiz, toothy-pegs and shower."
Harry completed his ablutions, scoffing at the dreadful mess his hair was, before dressing and heading into the common room.
Hermione, Padma and Luna were waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. Harry paused for a moment. "Good Lord..." He muttered. "A vision of beauty, poise and grace."
All three girls blushed prettily, before Hermione stepped forward, giving Harry a tight hug. "You shouldn't keep saying things like that." She said breathily. "We'll all be spoiled."
"Er, actually, I was pointing at the mirror." The girls all looked around to see a blank wall, and a smirking Harry. "I can't help saying things like that when I see you, Hermione. Your beauty inspires me." And makes me hornier than a dog at a 'Miss Lovely Legs' competition. Mmm...
"Yeah, right." Hermione mumbled into his neck. She squeaked as Harry pinched her hip lightly.
"Say that again, Hermione, and I'll be most upset." He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead on hers. "You're the most perfect female in the history of ever, Hermione. Please stop putting yourself down."
She sighed. "I'll try, Harry."
"If you don't stop, I'll give you a jolly good tickling." Harry joked, smirking at her. The gleam in Hermione's eye scared him... "Anyway..." He turned to Padma and Luna. "Ladies, you're looking particularly eye-catching this morning. Shall we go and partake of the delicious array of Hogwarts breakfast foods?"
The foursome left the common room, heading down the stairs. "So," Luna broke the silence, "what breakfast entertainment can we expect this morning, Harry?"
He turned to her, plastering an innocent expression on his face. "I, Luna? You think I'm planning some kind of entertainment? I'm shocked... shocked and appalled. What makes you think I'm planning anything?"
"We know you." The three girls chorused in unison.
Harry glanced around, nodding to Neville who was coming from the stairs. "Don't you think it's curious that Dumbledore wasn't at lunch or dinner yesterday? I'd be willing to be my entire family fortune that he's still suffering from the Box's 'snitch' system."
"'Snitch system'?" Neville asked. "Morning, Harry. Morning, ladies."
"Hey, Neville." The four chorused. Harry carried on. "Yeah, the 'snitch' system. Basically, it... highlights someone attempting to break in. If I'm right, and the joy of being me is that I'm always right, it'll be fairly obvious."
Not wanting to contradict Harry's rather egotistical statement, since so far, he had always been right, the group carried on in silence. Susan joined them as they carried on, meeting Blaise on his way up from the dungeons.
"Harry, Neville. Good morning, beautiful woman who set my loins on fire." Blaise maintained his deadpan air, looking over everyone.
Harry let out a 'hmph'. "No-one ever tells me how I set their loins on fire." He mock-pouted, folding his arms across his chest. "I feel so ugly!"
Hermione grabbed the back of his head and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips, before standing up on her tiptoes to whisper something into his ear. Harry's eyebrow shot up. "I'll... er... I'll keep that in mind." He cleared his throat as he saw the other five fanning themselves. "Right... breakfast."
Once sitting down and eating, Harry kept an eagle-eye on the door. He was waiting for Dumbledore to come in and ask for the counter-curse to the Box's defence.
"So, what do we have today?" Harry asked while watching. "Herbology, isn't it?"
Susan nodded. "Yeah. Professor Sprout popped into the common room last night to let us know. We're gonna be in greenhouse three. Apparently, we're doing mandrakes today."
Harry groaned. "Noisy little buggers. It's like being near the kiddy section in a pub. I hope we're not repotting them. They always fight back." He took a swig of his tea, as if it would somehow provide a potent shield against baby mandrakes. "And they're ugly little bastards. I bet it's what the Malfoy nursery looked like a few years ago."
A loud snigger drew everyone's attention to the door, before two Muggleborn students screamed. "It's a Terminator! It's here to kill us all!"
Albus Dumbledore was stood in the doorway to the Great Hall, eagerly scanning the occupants. When he saw Harry and his friends sitting calmly enjoying breakfast, he sagged slightly in relief. What made this pose more interesting was the fact that Dumbledore appeared to be comprised entirely of a silvery liquid metal, clad in bright purple robes. He ambled forwards, calmly ignoring the sniggering, pointing and jeering.
"Mr. Potter." He said coolly. "Could I speak to you for a moment?"
Harry looked up. "Ah, Headmaster. You're looking shiny this morning. Would you care to join us for breakfast? Perhaps some nice WD40, keep the old joints lubricated." Harry was having trouble keeping a straight face, as the Weasley twins had conjured magnets and were trying to stick them to the Headmaster.
"Mr. Potter, I would appreciate it if you would remove this silly prank spell from me." Dumbledore struggled to maintain his dignity. "Casting such spells on the Headmaster carries a hefty punishment."
Only if I'm caught, and I'm far too much a Marauder for that. "I haven't cast any spells on you, Headmaster." Harry replied politely. "I did, however, ward a propriety, registered personal object with a non-harmful ward. The fact that you were attempting to gain access to my personal property is the reason you're now shiny silver."
Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Potter, I explained to you yesterday morning that I would need to inspect and confiscate anything that was capable of breaching Hogwarts' wards."
"And I explained to you that I didn't breach the wards." Harry replied, still remaining polite. "However, you seem to be glossing over your attempted break-in of my personal property. I would rather discuss that. Did you know that, in the muggle world, breaking and entering can get you arrested and jailed? Count yourself lucky that nobody's tried to scrap you. Anyway, please, explain your breaking and entering."
"I explained, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore snapped. "Now, reverse this spell immediately."
Harry's wand flashed once, not speaking the incantation. "By you command, Centurion." Hermione, as a Muggleborn, cracked up at this, as he did resemble a Cylon in a dress. "I would strongly recommend not attempting that again, however. You've had the first warning. They get a little nastier from here on in." Including an impotence curse; how good are you at playing snooker with a rope? In the other timeline, he'd found out that Dumbledore had dosed himself with a love-potion, specifically lusting after Pomona Sprout, who was nursing a massive (to match her own body size) crush on Dumbledore. The idea of massive meeting ancient in a sweaty... Urk. I feel ill.
Dumbledore glanced down at his now-flesh coloured skin. "Mr. Potter, this changes nothing. I will still need to confiscate your device. If necessary, I will contact the Aurors and the Department of Mysteries in order to break whatever enchantments are on the object. It would be easier all around if you were to simply surrender it to me now."
"No." Harry replied, sitting up straighter. "Hogwarts' School Rule 316; 'personal property that is registered cannot be confiscated without just cause of a clear and present danger to the school or it's occupants'." And like Stone Cold said, Harry 3:16 says if you try anything, I'll kick your arse. Sometimes, Harry found himself remembering the most obscure and useless information he possessed, but when it came to it, he'd rather know too much than not enough. "Now, I know you think you can use that rule against me, but since there is no danger to the students, you lose. Remember our agreement from the summer, Headmaster. I wasn't joking then, and I'm not joking now."
"This is not over, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said as he stalked away.
"I'm not going to rue the day?" Harry looked at his friends, who looked more shell-shocked than anything else. "Seriously, would it take too much for someone to point a wand at me and tell me 'You shall rue this day, Potter!'?"
"Harry?" Hermione asked. She'd been a little intimidated by the conversation between two clearly powerful and implacable men.
Harry sighed heavily. "He doesn't like the fact that the Box... we really need to come up with a better name for it, can come and go from the school. He likes knowing who goes where and when, and why, and the Box stops that." He shrugged. "I think it's the why that bothers him the most; if he can't see how something can benefit him, he just doesn't want to give an inch."
"Are you in the wrong?" Susan asked, prompting an angry glare from Hermione.
"No." Harry sighed again. "There's a very simple reason why I can just pop through the wards like they're not there, but it's not something I'm particularly eager to reveal."
"More secrets, Harry?" Luna asked, smiling dreamily at him. "You should share some of your burdens. Keeping everything inside is not good for you."
"Some things have to be kept secret, Luna." Harry replied. "Others, like this, just don't matter." He looked at his friends. "It's not a matter of trust. Really, it's not. It's just... not relevant." He drained his tea. "Come on. Let's go and beat the shit out of the mandrakes."
As the six approached the Greenhouses, Luna peeling away to attend a Potions class, they saw Lockhart stalking away, grinning smarmily. You could see him dripping gittism from his pores.
"That man scares me..." Harry muttered, making sure to not look at him.
"Morning." Sprout grunted as they got closer, clearly in a bad mood. Not surprising, considering Lockhart was about. "We're in Greenhouse 3 today." She stomped off, not waiting for her class to follow, looking like the love child of Mother Earth and Beelzebub.
Once inside the greenhouse, wearing the horrible brown projective jackets, Sprout threw earmuffs at everyone. Before Lockhart had annoyed her, she probably would have thrown them to people, but the man just had that effect.
"Today we're going to be repotting mandrakes." She spat testily. "Who can tell me about Mandrakes?" Predictably, Hermione's hand shot up. "Miss Granger?"
"The Mandrake, or Mandragora is a member of the Nightshade family and can be used as a powerful restorative, Professor. However, its cry is fatal to anyone who hears it."
"Five points to Ravenclaw, Miss Granger." Sprout nodded, calming herself now she was back in her own domain. "Now, our mandrakes are still babies, so they won't kill you, but if you don't cover your ears, you'll have a nasty headache when you regain consciousness tomorrow. So, make sure you cover them."
There was a bit of a mad dash as the other five tried to get round Neville's tray. They knew he was the expert in Herbology. Unfortunately, Harry and Hermione were furthest away, and hadn't resorted to elbowing people out of the way yet, though they made no promises for OWL year, and had to sit at another four-person table. Two students approached them gingerly.
"Er... hi." One said. "I'm Dean Thomas."
Harry extended a hand. "Heard of you, Dean. Apparently, you're really good at art."
Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah... Er... how do you know?"
"I know everything." Harry replied, shaking hands, before turning to the other newcomer. "You're Justin Finch-Fletchley, yeah?"
The snooty Hufflepuff nodded. "Yes, yes I am. Heard all about your defeat of You-Know-Who, Potter. Good work."
Hermione covered a snorting laugh by coughing. Harry, using superhuman effort, managed to avoid rolling his eyes. "Thanks, Justin. I, uh... I appreciate your support."
"No problem." Justin replied, completely missing the sarcasm. "You're Muggle-raised, aren't you? Was down for Eton myself, but the chance to grace Hogwarts with my presence... well, I couldn't resist, really, and it wouldn't have been fair to the others, really."
Oh dear god... He's like a mini-Lockhart. Harry mused while putting his earmuffs on, clearly ignoring Justin. It's a shame he gets petrified. Well... a little shame, anyway. Peaceful for the rest of us, though.
After the grand and glorious battle against the Mandrakes (I wonder if Lockhart would write a book about that? Harry mused) with minimal casualties all around, the group trooped back into the school, intent on showering the mulch and compost off themselves.
"Free afternoon!" Neville cackled to himself as the group assembled in the Great Hall. "Sweet Merlin, I love free afternoons."
"Do y'all fancy some flying practice this afternoon?" Harry asked, wolfing down a plate of sandwiches. Politely, of course.
Hermione nodded absently, as she stared up at the Head Table. "Harry, Dumbledore's staring at you. I don't think he's gonna let this rest."
Harry looked up at the staff table, seeing Dumbledore glare daggers at Harry. Not certain why, Harry turned round, spotting several Gryffindors staring at the same time. "Good god, I feel popular." He muttered. "Fine, let's get this sorted out."
He wiped his mouth on a napkin, casually tossing it onto his plate. He stood up, stalking towards the Head Table. Dumbledore spotted him coming, and somehow managed to extend his frown and disapproving air. Ignoring the old man, Harry turned to Flitwick. "Professor, as my Head of House, would you be willing to perform an inspection on a piece of personal property that is currently irritating the Headmaster?" He turned to McGonagall. "As the Deputy Headmistress, would you supervise? Frankly, I'm getting sick of him glaring at me." He lowered his voice. "It's making me feel uncomfortable. It looks pretty inappropriate, a Headmaster staring unblinkingly at a good-looking second year."
Dumbledore cleared his throat, ignoring McGonagall's quiet giggle that she was covering with her hand. "I can perform any inspections that are necessary, Mr. Potter." He informed him patronisingly. "And I will also be able to issue a receipt for the confiscation of the object."
Harry turned to him. "You will not be confiscating it, sir. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick will be able to confirm what I've said, after they've completed the inspection. Now, please... leave it alone. I'm sick of fighting with you, and I've only been back at school two bloody days."
McGonagall cleared her throat and stood up. "I'll be pleased to escort you, Mr. Potter. Please let me know when you are available."
"Now, Professor." Harry replied. "I, and most of my friends, have a free afternoon." He turned to Dumbledore. "And then, Professor, you and I shall have a little chat, which will clear the air." His voice turned cold. "Otherwise, me and you will have... issues."
"I look forward to it, Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said magnanimously, before turning to Minerva. "Please deliver the object to my office upon the completion of your inspection." He stood. "Good day."
Harry led the two Professors and his friends, bar Luna, to the Ravenclaw common room, before heading up to his dorm room.
Flitwick stepped closer to the box, drawing his wand and casting several diagnostic spells. "Curious... powerful defences, but non-fatal." He looked up. "Differential triggered wards? Impressive spell-work, Mr. Potter."
"Thank you, sir." Harry replied dutifully. "I must ask you not to physically touch it, though. The defences will kick in unless you're keyed in."
Flitwick nodded. "Understood. And nicely done, by the way." He stepped back.
Harry placed his hand on a section of the door, waiting for a moment until the magi-lock recognised his magical signature and palm print, before opening. Harry pushed open the door, and stepped back. "After you."
The group ambled inside, extremely impressed with the console room. Flitwick looked down at the grating on the floor. "Oh, that's fabulous work!" He moaned in pleasure. "You've managed to subvert the natural floor of the device. That's Mastery-level charms work."
McGonagall looked around, pulling out her wand and casting her own diagnostics. "Transfigured and conjured metals. Permanent conjuration?" She looked at Harry. "That's beyond NEWT-level, Mr. Potter."
Harry just nodded.
Flitwick, while McGonagall had been looking at the metalwork, had wondered over to the central console, where the reactor was pulsing with wild, barely-restrained magic. Not barely restrained as in 'this could be a bit dangerous', but more of a 'yippee, nothing can stop me now!' feel. He didn't know what it did, but he knew that messing around with anything in here could be fatal. And embarrassing.
Flitwick lowered his wand. "While this certainly looks very impressive, Mr. Potter, I must ask... what exactly does it do? Why is the Headmaster so eager to confiscate this device?"
Harry clicked his fingers, closing the doors with a loud clang. "This device, Professor, is an extremely sophisticated Portkey device. But it's so much more. In the right hands, its tactical value is immeasurable. Also, it's a home away from home."
"A self-contained Portkey." Flitwick repeated. "And it passes right through Hogwarts wards. I can understand the Headmaster's concerns, Mr. Potter."
"The Box isn't the problem with that, Professor." Harry sighed, slumping into one of the chairs next to the console. "The problem is magical signatures. AnyPortkey that I choose to make will pass through Hogwarts wards like they weren't there. The Box is irrelevant to that."
McGonagall frowned. "The only way that could happen is..." Her eyes widened in realisation. "Are you..."
Harry nodded. "I am the Heir of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. As such, Hogwarts herself allows me to come and go as needed."
Flitwick dropped his wand, while McGonagall stepped backwards. "Good lord..."
Harry's friends, sans Hermione, were equally stunned. Blaise stepped forward. "What does this mean, Harry?"
Shrugging, Harry made a face. "It means that I can come and go from the school as needed. That's it. No secret vaults, no secret powers, nothing like that. It just means that my ancestors were partly responsible for creating the school."
Susan cleared her throat. "Is this one of the secrets that needed to be kept, or one that didn't matter?"
"Doesn't matter." Harry replied. "It's irrelevant, really. I think Dumbledore already knows about the Potters being descended from Gryffindor. Not many people know that Godric and Rowena were married, since she kept her maiden name. Personally, I reckon Dumbledore's still trying to exercise control over me, prevent me having unrestricted access to the school, or, even worse, from coming and going without him knowing, and being able to allow or forbid. Why? I don't know, or really care. But it's gonna stop." He stood up, leading the group through a door at the back of the console room.
"Quarters, a dining room, a training room and gym, and a bathroom." He pointed out each room. "Like I said, it's like a home away from home. And it's utterly harmless." Unless someone's been in the bathroom and not hit the freshening charm. He cast his mind back to the previous timeline, remembering Hermione's love of curry, and Harry's love of the bubblehead charm the next morning.
He led them all back to the console room. "Now, I want to speak to Dumbledore. He's really getting on my pecs with his behaviour, and I want it to stop." He turned back to the Professors. "Would you please escort me so I don't explode him?"
McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "Don't you mean, 'explode athim'?"
Harry shrugged again. "If that's what you wanna think, Professor, don't let me stop you, but I'd prepare to cast Scourgify, just in case." He began jabbing buttons on the console. "Why don't you let me show you what my baby can do, hmm?" He grabbed a large brass lever, sliding it down with a manic grin. With a loud thump, the blue fingers at the centre of the console began to move.
Dumbledore was sitting in his office, sucking on a comforting lemon drop while he pondered the situation involving Harry Potter. Although he'd agreed to back off on certain issues, Potter's introduction of a device that could breeze through the school's formidable defences changed the game, and allowing the boy free-reign to come and go, without him knowing where, bothered him. I cannot allow the 'Boy-Who-Lived' to learn anything that could lead to him going Dark. The fact that this involved most of the potent offensive magicks didn't cross his mind, virtually hamstringing Harry in the fight against Voldemort.
A wind began to blow throughout his office, blowing pieces of parchment from his desk everywhere. A wheezing/groaning sound with no clearly definable source filled the air, before the strange object from the sorting began to materialise in his office. The light on top of the box blinked on and off, casting his office in a strange glow.
After almost ten seconds, the grinding sound stopped, the box fully solidified. Ah.Dumbledore thought to himself. Minerva has delivered the object to me. Excellent. I shall investigate. It may come in useful when Voldemort returns; a portable command centre that would allow me to face the Death Eaters, bringing them back to the Light. He stood up, grabbing his hat as he stepped to the doors. He was about to reach out and touch it, when he remembered the effect from last time.
The doors in front of his opened, revealing an impossibly large room, with eight people stood around an odd table of some type.
"Come in, Headmaster." Harry called out in a no-nonsense tone.
Dumbledore tentatively placed a foot inside, waiting to see if he was attacked or vaporised. He stepped inside, scooting forward when the doors began to close behind him. "I'm glad to see that you have agreed to surrender this device to me, Harry."
"I haven't." Harry replied, jabbing a few other buttons. The gyroscope began to rev up as the dematerialisation sequence began.
Once in flight, Harry sat down. "Now, Headmaster. I've explained to these people how this device is able to pass through Hogwarts wards, and they are satisfied. Will you accept their assurance, or do you require me to explain it to you as well?"
Dumbledore subtly checked his wand was available if it became necessary to subdue Harry. It never occurred to him that he was trapped inside a technological device he could never hope to operate. "If you would explain, Harry."
Harry jabbed a few buttons, watching the console accept the commands. "Tell me about my history, Professor. The history of the Potters. Where are we descended from?"
"Originally?" Dumbledore asked, looking confused by the request. "The first Potters came from Godric's Hollow in Wales. The first recorded Potter was in 1013. His family name came from his occupation. They were clay-workers, using magic to create some of the most exquisite artworks."
"Why is Godric's Hollow so named?" Harry asked, keeping his eye on the console.
"It is the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, Harry." Dumbledore replied, annoyed. "This information is available in Hogwarts; A History. I don't see how it's relevant to our conversation."
"The Potters weren't exactly contemporaries of the Founders, Headmaster, because they were descended from the Founders. Godric's son Amaraine became the first Potter. As such, I am a descendant of Gryffindor."
Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I... I suspected that the Potters were linked to the Founders."
"And that is why I can Portkey through the wards. Anyone with a Founders' blood can seek sanctuary at Hogwarts. This device," he gestured to the bulkheads around him, "uses my blood and magic to pass through the wards. Because it uses my blood and mymagic, it can only be used by me."
"It is still capable of penetrating Hogwarts' defences, Harry." Dumbledore replied, his hand inching towards his wand. "As such, it must be confiscated so that I can study it."
Harry picked up a piece of wire off the console, and tapped it with his wand; the wire glowed blue for a moment. "This is now a portkey that will breach Hogwarts' defences. Here, study this." Harry tossed the wire to Dumbledore, who caught it, and then dropped it on the floor.
"A piece of wire will not breach the school's defences. No, this box, Harry, must be given to me. I shall study it and determine its use. If it can be used as a command post, then I shall use it thusly. I cannot allow this device to remain in the hands of a student."
"Okay, Headmaster."
"You agree?"
"Certainly." Harry nodded, and stepped away from the console. "By all means, take command. Bring us back to your office, and, when we get there, I shall surrender the box's command codes to yourself."
Dumbledore rushed towards the console, a victorious smile plastered on his face, which collapsed and crumbled on the floor when he saw a massive amount of dials, switches and levers in front of him. He pointed his wand at Harry, and gestured him to the console. "You shall pilot this device, Harry. It will be a part of Hogwarts' resources, and you shall pilot it where and when I deem necessary for the Greater Good, and teach me how to do the same."
"No, Albus." Flitwick said. "This device is Mr. Potter's personal property, and is not a danger to the school. I will contest any attempt to confiscate it."
"As will I." McGonagall added, glaring at her boss.
"Now, before I take us back to Hogwarts, I want a chat, Headmaster." Harry said firmly, gently pushing Dumbledore backwards. "Frankly, you've been getting on my tits recently, and I've had enough. I've told you many times that I will not stand being manipulated or controlled. Last New Year, you agreed, then by summer, you were right back to your old ways. Over the summer, you tried again. Poppy and Minerva tried to stop you, and scant weeks later, you're doing it yet again."
Dumbledore sighed. "Mr. Potter, there are certain actions I must take the ensure the safety of our world. I realise that these actions may not be to your liking, but they are necessary for our security. You need to learn that not everything will go your way, just because you wish it to." The oblivious old man didn't see Minerva's lips thin so much, they disappeared, nor that she had a firm grip on her wand.
"'People who trade freedom for security deserve neither', Headmaster." Harry quoted. "Now, you've been dicking about with me for the last year. It stops now. You've already said that you'd do so, and have broken that word. I want something stronger."
Several eyes flitted to Harry, Dumbledore's included. "What do you mean?"
Harry took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult. "I want an unbreakable vow from you, in front of these witnesses, that you will make no attempt to manipulate me. Ever. That you will answer whatever question I ask with the complete truth, whenever I ask it. If asking the question violates another oath, you will tell me who that oath was made to, and why." He saw Dumbledore's mouth open. "This is non-negotiable, Headmaster, and a one-time only offer. Otherwise, I send us back to Hogwarts, pack my stuff, and leave."
"You ask too much, Harry." Dumbledore said firmly. "You forget; you are just a student. I do not have to answer to you."
"Fine." Harry shrugged. "I'm setting the co-ordinates back to your office, Headmaster. I'll drop you off, then pack up my gear."
"I will not allow you to leave, Mr. Potter. I am acting for the good of everyone. In time, you will come to see the truth." Dumbledore drew his wand, only to have it blasted out of his hand by Flitwick's well-aimed 'Expelliarmus'. "Filius! You need to understand that Harry needs to be under my guidance until I am satisfied he can make the right decision without my supervision."
"Your control, you mean."
Harry was ignoring this byplay. "So, Hermione... do you wanna come with me? I can hire tutors to get us educated. We'd be able to take NEWTs as soon as we're ready."
Hermione nodded. "I spoke to my parents in the summer. They agreed to do whatever I felt was best."
Harry turned to his friends. "What about you guys?"
Susan's jaw flapped for a moment, before she gathered herself. "Auntie Amelia'll be pissed, but I'm sure once I explain that I'm doing it to escape the Headmaster's manipulations, she'll come round."
"Gran'll want to kill me." Neville said, smirking. "Then she'll come and kill the Headmaster. I'm in."
Padma hesitated. "I need to speak to my parents before I can say anything, Harry."
"Wait." McGonagall said firmly. "This is going too far." She turned to Harry. "Your oath is a little excessive, Harry, but only in the wording." She turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, at the risk of being crude, you need to extract your head from your nether orifice. You're risking losing at least six students, possibly more when you consider the Weasley twins and their friends. When the press finds out you're hounding students out of the school, including the 'Boy-Who-Lived', other parents will pull their children out, too. If you continue on this path, Hogwarts will be closed down."
Dumbledore looked offended. "I cannot simply allow a student to dictate terms, Minerva. I have duties and responsibilities that could be compromised if I agree with Mr. Potter's oath."
Filius cleared his throat, holding out a piece of parchment. "I have taken that into account, Headmaster. I believe this will be an adequate oath to satisfy both parties."
Harry took the parchment, and read through it.
Albus Dumbledore will abandon any plans to manipulate or control Harry Potter. Any attempts to influence Harry Potter will also be abandoned, except in the matters of his education. All educational plans must be approved by the Deputy Head Teacher and Harry Potter's head of house.
Albus Dumbledore will answer any relevant question directed by Harry Potter at the time of asking to the best of his ability. Relevant questions will be only be in the following categories: Harry Potter's personal history; Harry Potter's educational requirements and conduct; Harry Potter's past and possible future dealing with Lord Voldemort.
If Harry Potter asks Albus Dumbledore a question that would contradict another oath, he will explain who that oath is with. If the other oath contradicts the 'relevant questions' that Harry Potter is allowed to ask, Albus Dumbledore will explain the exact circumstances of that other oath, and why it must be upheld.
Harry finished reading, then looked up at Dumbledore. "This oath would be acceptable with me, Headmaster."
Dumbledore read through it, paling when he considered the ramifications of such an oath, but he recognised that it would allow him to retain influence with Harry, and more importantly, would ensure the young man remained at Hogwarts. "Very well." He sighed dramatically. "I am still dreadfully disappointed at this complete lack of trust, Mr. Potter. You really need to listen to your elders, Harry, when we look out for your interests; I have only the best of intentions for you."
No, you don't. Harry thought, saying nothing aloud. You don't have best intentions for me. You just wanna make sure that Voldemort gets defeated anyway possible, no matter the cost to me or my friends.
"I will bond your oath, gentlemen." McGonagall said, pulling out her wand.
Harry held out his hand, waiting for Dumbledore to take it. The old man did, after a few moments of piteous looks, both men dropping to their knees in the ritualistic pose.
"Albus Dumbledore, will you promise to abandon any plans to manipulate or control Harry James Potter?" McGonagall asked.
"I will." A tendril of white flame erupted from McGonagall's wand, wrapping itself around the men's combined hands.
"Will you make no attempts to influence Harry Potter, except in the routine matters of his standard Hogwarts education?"
"I will." A second tendril came from the wand, interlinking itself with the first.
"Will you answer any question that Harry Potter asks, in full, provided it deals with him directly, or any possible future actions with the wizard who calls himself... Lord V-Voldemort?"
"I will." A third tendril joined the first two, forming a glowing white chain.
"If any question asked by Harry Potter would contradict another oath, will you explain that to him, detailing who the oath was made to, and why."
Dumbledore hesitated for a moment, before sighing. "I will." A fourth tendril joined with the previous three, before burning white hot for a second, then vanishing.
"So mote it be." McGonagall added, not a part of the ritual, but to let everyone know it had been completed.
Harry pulled back his hand. "Well, job's a good'un." He stood up. "Now, I'm gonna go back to school. Headmaster, I'm sure that we can have a discussion at some point that will be very enlightening."
Dumbledore bowed his head in defeat. "I never wished for this enmity; I only ever wished the best for you, Harry. "
Harry looked down at Dumbledore, deciding to throw the old man a bone. It would be the only one. "I don't hate you, Professor. I don't even dislike you. I dislike interference in my life. I dislike people attempting to manipulate me. Now, I'm a 'no-second-chances' kind of guy. I don't want to break with you. I want to get along with you. You're a good man, sir. Please, don't make me walk away from Hogwarts."
Hermione stepped over, wrapping her arms about his waist, and resting her head on his shoulder. "Sir, from what I've heard about you, you're the greatest wizard in the world. I respect that. But, you seem to have lost sight of the people."
"I agree." Flitwick spoke up. "You've been fighting so long, Albus, that you see the battles, the war, the sacrifices and the goals. You've lost sight of the people involved in those positions. Perhaps you should redirect your attention to where it will be useful."
"I will try." Dumbledore offered as he climbed to his feet, wincing as his knees cracked. "I will try."
After the excitement of the afternoon, dinner seemed almost dull in comparison. Luna joined them, fresh from a riveting afternoon of Potions. Snape had been his usual unpleasant self, but after Harry's actions, the man was pretty much harmless. Rude, obnoxious and stinking, but harmless.
"I miss all the fun." Luna pouted, slumping in her chair.
"Fun?" Neville squeaked. "I about pissed my pants when Harry threatened to leave the school. I thought Dumbledore was about to blast us all."
"He's not evil, Neville." Luna said airily. "He's just... misguided, from what I've heard."
"He's a sneaky old bird." Harry muttered quietly. "I just hope he gets his head out of his arse."
"Anyway..." Hermione drawled, getting everyone's attention. "Any plans for the weekend?"
Harry pulled out his schedule. "Let's see... Friday tomorrow... oh, bugger! Double History of Magic, and Astronomy! On a Friday night! Proof that there is no God."
Hermione ignored her boyfriend. "Flying practice was mentioned earlier. I wouldn't mind doing that. Maybe we could have some speed drills or stuff like that."
"Or, we could go and hack off the Quidditch teams. Five galleons says Ollie has his team out there at the crack of dawn practicing." Harry smirked evilly. "I've not had a chance to wig Ollie out for almost three months." He laughed loudly; from the sound of it, he'd been spending hours working on his evil laugh. "Oh, I love doing that to him..."
"Behave." Hermione commanded. "You shouldn't pick on him. Good lord, after that last Quidditch game, he wouldn't come near you." She reached out and grasped his hand. "His loss... my gain."
Harry turned to her, his eyes in the familiar adorable puppy-dog pout. "Please, Hermione... let's go and annoy Oliver. It'll be fun!"
Unable to resist Harry's sinister yet pleading looks, Hermione folded, sagging neatly into her chair. "Fine. I'll help you annoy Oliver."
Neville smirked. "I'll come along too, if you don't mind. God knows I could use the flying practice."
"I think we all could." Padma admitted, sighing. "It's definitely not my preferred method of magical travel."
"It's better than Floo." Harry spat. "Horrible way, that is. Always end up arse over tit."
Hermione giggled, ignoring Harry's pouting glare. "It's true. He does. It's quite funny."
"Anyway..."
The gang gathered on Saturday morning, yawning and scratching as they grabbed brooms from the school storage shed. Harry kept his in his trunk, not trusting people not to damage it. As he led them to the field, he spotted the Gryffindor Quidditch team staggering out of the locker room.
Harry's face lit up when he saw the Scottish 6th-year. "Hi, Ollie." He purred.
Wood stopped instantly in his tracks when he heard that dreaded voice. Gathering all his Gryffindor courage, he turned to face his tormentor. "Potter."
Harry pouted. "Is that all you have to say to me, Ollie? I'm hurt..."
Fred and George had coached him. He was ready for this. He could do it. He would do it. Oliver strode forward, thrusting out his hand. "No... that's not all. It's very good to see you, Harry. I missed you."
Not missing a beat, Harry grasped Oliver's hand, smirking inwardly when he felt Ollie stroking his knuckles. "Ah, you have missed me, haven't you?" He said in his sexiest voice. "Let me guess, you got your team up, and now you're cracking the whip... I've never wanted to be a Gryffindor so much in my life."
Oliver didn't even blink. "Don't need to be a Gryffindor for me to crack a whip, Harry..."
"Ooh, promises..." Harry and Oliver broke down laughing at the same time, pumping their hands once before dropping them to their sides. "You did well there, Ollie. Didn't let me get you down at all."
"Yes, well... I figured that if I could handle your come-ons, the Slytherins' booing wouldn't affect me at all."
Harry gasped dramatically. "You're just using me?" He sniffed and turned away. "I'm hurt, Ollie, really..."
Ollie patted the top of Harry's head patronisingly. "Yes, I am."
"Good man, Ollie. I'm proud of you. Still, that means I'll have to find another way to distract you during the game. I'll think of something; I'm very good." Harry grinned. "So, you got your entire team out of bed, entirely too early, on a Saturday, and have now filled their heads with plays and tactics." He looked over at the twins, who were leaning against each other, bravely fighting to stay awake.
Wood faced his players. "Yep. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready for action." He grinned at Harry. "We'll be kicking your arse come game time."
Angelina's head dropped into Fred's lap as she succumbed to sleep. Fred didn't even blink as he raised his trapped hand, resting it on her shoulder.
"Oh, yeah... I can see that."
Hermione stepped closer, protectively wrapping an arm around her boyfriend. "Oliver Wood... are you flirting with my man?"
"Yes, ma'am." He replied politely, nodding his head respectfully to her.
"I can't blame you." Hermione replied, pulling Harry closer. "Harry, try not to tire him out too much."
"Oh, shite..." Oliver mutter, looking over their heads. Harry and Hermione turned together, not breaking contact, to witness the thugs and Neanderthals that made up the Slytherin team, clad in their bright green robes. "What do you want, Flint?"
As Flint opened his mouth to speak, Hermione shuddered. Harry leaned in closer. "I know... he looks like a shark, doesn't he? God... your parents would be having wet dreams over what they could charge to fix that."
"'...New seeker'." Wood asked, holding open a note. "You've got a new seeker? Who is it?"
Blonde-haired arrogance pushed it's way through the players at front, revealing a personification of Bad Faith. "Me."
Malfoy's eyes were locked on Harry, who responded in atypical fashion; he raised an eyebrow and grunted.
Flint was not happy with everyone's lack of response to their wonderful news, so he decided to up the ante. "And that's not all. Look what Draco's father donated to the team." Each of the Quidditch players raised a shiny black-handled broomstick, each of them clearly expensive.
"'Nimbus 2001'." Hermione read off the handle. "Harry, how much are those?"
Harry closed his eyes as he fought to remember. "Er... about 34,000 pounds. That's..." quick bit of mental arithmetic... "690 galleons each. And seven of them is about... 4,800 galleons."
"A quarter of a million pounds to put his son on the Quidditch team... man, you Dad's got more money than sense, doesn't he, Malfoy?" Hermione sneered weakly at him. It really wasn't her best expression.
Malfoy's face turned puce incredibly quickly. "No-one asked for your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood!"
Oliver, Padma and Susan gasped loudly, shocked at the vile language the scion of a Noble house was using.
Hermione, on the other hand, didn't care what crap Malfoy spouted. "Is that really the best you can come up with, Malfoy? 'Mudblood'? Honestly... I would have thought you could come up with some intelligent insults. See, even a Muggleborn can do it; 'inbred gibbering idiot', or 'arrogant little streak of piss'. Come on, Draco, make it fun for me!"
Clearing his throat, Harry drew the attention back to him. "I don't understand why he bought those brooms, though."
"Harry?" Oliver asked. "What's wrong with them? They're good brooms."
"They're racing brooms, Ollie. In a flat out speed run, they're about the best on the market at the moment. But for Quidditch? Nuh-uh. It's a shame that Ravenclaw will be hanging onto the Quidditch cup this year."
Wood was intrigued. "How do you mean?"
Harry smirked. Even though he hadn't let Malfoy's comment about Hermione's blood-status get to him, Malfoy would still be paying for saying it. And he knew the perfect way, too. "The 2001 is fast and manoeuvrable, and a good 10 percent faster than my 2000, but they pay a price for it; it's stability's pretty poor, and it's about 35 percent less manoeuvrable than the 2000, and 20 percent less than most of the Cleansweeps. Trying to pull off any Quidditch manoeuvres at speed will cause them to-"
Snap! In the Slytherins' hands, each of the seven broomsticks was snapped cleanly in half, rendering a quarter million pounds of Malfoy money into kindling. No-one noticed the imperceptible twitch of Harry's pinkie finger.
"Snap." Harry concluded smoothly. "Oh, dear... see what I mean? These brooms are absolutely no use for Quidditch." At least, not anymore.
"I'll get you for this, Scarhead!" Malfoy squealed, drawing his wand.
"You don't want to do that." Harry said in a tone of ice. "I have done nothing to you, Malfoy, and I have not drawn a wand. Fire a curse at me and you will die. Are we clear?" While he was speaking, everyone except Oliver, who was far too engrossed in watching the Slytherin hopes snap, Hermione, who wasn't afraid of Harry's temper, and Malfoy, who was glaring at Harry in what he thought was a menacing fashion, had stepped back, clearly afraid of a small second year student.
Malfoy thrust his wand back into his pocket, before spinning on his heel and mincing away, followed by the Slytherin team, each of them holding onto the shattered remains on the new brooms.
"What the hell was that?" Oliver asked in a whisper.
Harry shrugged. "They all broke, Ollie. I told you. The 2001 isn't that great a broom for Quidditch."
Hermione leaned in close to him. "Harry... if I was a suspicious person, I'd think that you broke those brooms because Malfoy was rude."
Raising an eyebrow, Harry looked down at his girlfriend. "You always were a smart girl, Hermione. Of course, I would never admit to such a heinous deed."
She smiled at him. "Thank you, Harry."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Harry replied innocently. "The person who did that, whoever I may be, should be thanked, though." He turned back to his friends. "So... shall we fly?"
Two hours later, the group had finished doing their flying practice. Harry was the only one who could be considered 'competent', but the others had potential. Of course, Harry had been flying for over a century, and was used to handling brooms at least twice as fast as his Nimbus, but Hermione, surprisingly, managed to perform some good manoeuvres. When she got a better broom and some experience, she'd be a hell of a flyer.
Padma stretched out. "I can't believe it's so tiring sitting on a piece of wood. And my arms are killing me." She slumped onto the grass, sitting next to Susan and Blaise, both of whom were too tired to get up the energy to complain. They all watched Harry standing there casually... the bastard hadn't even worked up a sweat!
"You know, it always makes me laugh when someone says that Quidditch builds up rock-hard bodies. Why? I mean, sure, throwing a ball will build up the muscles in one arm, same for the beaters, but a 6-pack? How many times have you seen the Wimbourne Wasps doing ab-crunches on a broom?" Harry looked at the others, who looked knackered, except for Neville, who appeared to be dozing.
"Why don't we pop over to Hagrid's? It's closer than the school, and we can have a sit down?" Hermione suggested diplomatically, while using her toe to subtly nudge Neville awake. She, like the others, was knackered, but didn't want to appear weak to Harry.
"Yeah!" Harry exclaimed cheerily. "Let's go see Hagrid. Double-time?"
Six identical groans reached his ears.
Hagrid was out working on his crops when the youths approached. Since it was early September, Hagrid was busy working on the school's Pumpkin patch, in preparation for the Halloween feast that was a scant two months away.
"'Ello, there!" Hagrid called over, waving his huge arm at the kids. "What brings you lot down here?"
Harry smiled at his first friend. "Just popped down for a visit, Hagrid, if you're not busy?"
Hagrid smiled warmly. "Never too busy for you and your friends, Harry. Come on in. I'll pop the kettle on."
After serving tea and his version of biological weapons... or rock cakes, as he called them, Hagrid settled down. "I've got a bone to pick with you, Harry-"
Snarling, Harry interrupted. "If I hear one word about autographed photos, Hagrid, I'm going to be mightily annoyed."
Hagrid just chuckled. "Yeah, the fop was down here earlier. He offered to sign my copies of his books."
"You don't own them do you, Hagrid?" Blaise asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Nah." Hagrid replied. "With the forest behind me, I've never needed kindling that badly." The youths snickered. "He told me that he'd be happy to sell me a set."
"How'd you manage to avoid that?" Neville asked. "That man seems awfully pushy to get rid of his books. Gran says that they're rubbish. She objected to buying them."
"We all objected to buying them, Nev." Harry replied. "Unfortunately, mandatory reading lists make that one hard to avoid." He turned to Hagrid. "So... how'd you get out of it?"
"I told 'im I couldn't read." Hagrid replied, grinning widely. "His jaw flapped for a minute then he stalked away."
Harry tutted loudly. "Hagrid, that was devious, sneaky and worthy of a Slytherin. Well done."
"Seconded." Blaise added, smirking at Hagrid. "We'll have you in silver and green before you know it."
"Here, now, there's no need to be insulting!" Hagrid protested, grinning at Blaise to remove the sting from his words. "So, what d'you think of the Pumpkins? Coming along nicely, they are. Should be ready for the feast."
Hermione eyed his suspiciously. "They seem awfully big, Hagrid. Bigger than pumpkins should be. Why is that?"
"I, er... I might've helped 'em out a bit." Hagrid admitted shiftily, his eyes automatically flitting to his pink umbrella, dropped untidily in the corner. "Just to get 'em ready."
"I thought you couldn't use magic?" Susan asked, looking suspiciously at Hagrid.
"Er... well, I can, but my wand was snapped. I kept the pieces, though."
Harry could not have asked for a better opening, considering that he knew what was coming in the near future. "Yeah, I meant to ask you about that. When we went shopping in the alley, you told me you were expelled in your third year, but you never actually said why. I was just wondering."
Hagrid's gaze dropped. "Er... it's not something I like talking about, actually." He took a long draught of his tea. "Bad situation it was, bad. Please don't ask me again."
Don't worry, Hagrid... I have a plan. "Okay, Hagrid." He smiled warmly. "So... who do you fancy for this year's Quidditch season? And, more importantly, the Sock Quidditch League?"
Finishing with Hagrid, the seven made their way back to the main doors, intent on a shower and some lunch. At least, that was the plan. As with all plans, it disintegrated before first contact with the enemy. In this case, it was Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.
"Potter!" Snape roared upon spotting Harry, grabbing his wand. "You'll pay for this!"
Harry maintained his calm. "Professor Snape, lower your wand." He stared impassively at the older man until the wand dropped a fraction of an inch. "What will I pay for, sir?"
"You destroyed seven highly expensive broomsticks! I'll see you expelled for this!"
Harry yawned widely. "This again? I think you need to investigate a situation before pulling a wand of me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm hungry." He made to walk past Snape, only to have his arm grabbed painfully, and shoved against a wall.
"You will not walk away from me, Potter!" Snape snarled, leaning in close to Harry's face, spittle and rancid breath washing over him. Harry felt himself swooning, and not in a good way. "Mr. Malfoy has stated that you destroyed his father's donation to the team. I shall be confiscating your broom, and billing you for them."
Arching an eyebrow, Harry stared at the greasy potions master, almost begging him to try Legilimency. "And you have already made a decision, based on your little shit's whining? I don't think so."
Keeping the painful grip, Snape yanked Harry towards the stairs. "We'll be going seeing the Headmaster about this, Potter! You'll be out of here by dinner!"
Yanking his arm free, Harry turned back to his friends. "I'll catch up with you guys later." He yelped as Snape grabbed his arm again.
Without another word, Harry pulled his arm free, spinning around and grabbing Snape's wrist. He tugged down, causing Snape's arm to straighten out, before Harry launched a single forearm punch. Snape howled in agony as his elbow was destroyed, bending his arm completely the wrong way. His face paled as he dropped to his knees. Harry knelt down next to him.
"You touch me again, Snivellus, and I won't stop with your arm. You have been warned that if you try anything with me, I will finish it. You assaulted me, I returned the favour." Harry smirked at the man's pale face. "You can never beat me, Snivellus. I suggest you save yourself a world of pain and don't try."
Snape's howls had summoned a number of people, McGonagall, Flitwick and Dumbledore amongst them. Harry's friends hadn't moved from their spot, enthralled with Harry's move.
"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall near-shrieked. "What is going on here?"
With a sigh, Harry drew his wand, casting a numbing charm on Snape's destroyed elbow. "Perhaps we should discuss this in the Headmaster's office? We were on our way there anyway."
"Very well." Dumbledore sighed heavily. He just knew it was gonna be one of those days.
After heading to the Hospital Wing to get Snape a pain-relieving potion and a cartilage-repair draught, the group of four teachers and two students congregated in the Headmaster's office. Harry sat on one of the hard wooden chairs, Malfoy sitting as far from him as possible.
"Mr. Potter, would you please explain what happened?"
"No." Harry replied. "I believe Snape and Malfoy should go first, sir. They wanted to bring the initial complaint."
Dumbledore nodded, before turning his twinkling blue eyes to the Malfoy scion. "Mr. Malfoy?"
Malfoy puffed up his chest, glad to be able to speak to the top dog. "My father made a donation of brooms to the Slytherin team, sir. When we went out to the pitch to try them out, Potter destroyed them, sir. I want him expelled, and also reparations made."
Nodding slowly, Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus?"
The man was still a little pale, but the pain-relieving potion was working well. "Mr. Malfoy came and told me about Potter's actions. I waited for him to return in the Entrance Hall. I was telling him that we were coming to see you, and he attacked me in an unprovoked assault. He should be expelled immediately, and charges filed!"
Dumbledore turned back to Harry. "And your version of events, Mr. Potter?"
Harry smiled, before turning to Snape. "You see, Snivellus? This is how it should go. It's called 'investigation'. You should try it sometime." He turned back to Dumbledore, ignoring the now-puce grease-ball. "I was out by the Quidditch pitch with my friends, and I saw the Gryffindor team. I was chatting with them when the Slytherin team came out, stating that they were going to take over the pitch, because they needed to train a new seeker." He paused for a moment. "If the Gryffindors have booked the pitch, why can Snape just authorise their team to use it whenever they want?"
McGonagall cleared her throat. "They can't. I shall ensure that teams are only allowed on the pitch when it has been booked. Please, continue."
"Anyway, Malfoy came over, bragging about how his Daddy bought the whole team brooms. When Hermione pointed out that Lucy had more money than sense, he called her a Mudblood." While not really relevant to the discussion, it was fun just to drop Malfoy in the shit. "I was talking with Oliver about the brooms, saying that they were... delicate. At that point, the brooms all snapped. It was very strange."
"You snapped them, Potter!" Malfoy shouted. "When my father hears about this-"
Harry's face was hard as stone. "Send him to me, Malfoy. I'll happily deal with his little 'tantrum'." He turned back to Dumbledore. "It really was a dreadful coincidence, sir. Must just have been a bad batch."
"Indeed." Dumbledore replied. "And what happened with Professor Snape?"
"I was coming back from seeing Hagrid, when Snape accosted me in the Entrance Hall. He drew his wand, something that I have warned him about, and he threatened me. He then physically assaulted me, like a Muggle," he shot Snape a pitying look, "then tried to drag me away. I pulled my arm free of his grasp, and told my friends I'd see them later. He then assaulted me again, which prompted me to retaliate."
Dumbledore nodded again. Based on what he knew of Malfoy and Severus, it was the more likely explanation. "Can you supply proof of your innocence, Mr. Potter?"
"Can they supply proof of my guilt, Professor?" Harry retorted instantly, then decided to be generous. "Since we're now working in a spirit of co-operation, Professor, I'll extend an olive branch. I will submit my memories of both encounters for us all to view in your Pensieve. If you can prove I destroyed their brooms, I'll pay the 5,000 galleons to replace them. If not, then I want a public apology from Malfoy for the false accusation, and from Snape for assaulting me. And no, I won't call him 'Professor." He added the last when he saw Dumbledore's mouth open.
"That seems fair to me, Mr. Potter." Flitwick said. "The accusations were both public, so the apologies should be, too."
Dumbledore said nothing, just got his Pensieve out from its cupboard. Without being told, Harry drew his wand, putting it to his temple and pulling out a silvery strand that plopped into the bowl, before pulling out another one. He then offered his wand to Dumbledore. "While they're loading, why don't you do a Priori Incantatum on my wand?"
Taking the wand, Dumbledore pressed his to it. An Arithmancy equation, comprised of white smoke, floated up and however in the air.
Dumbledore squinted at the smoke for a moment. "The numbing spell."
A second wand tap, and a new equation appeared.
"Charms class on Wednesday." Flitwick offered. "First class of second year."
Another smoky equation floated up. Dumbledore scrutinised it for a moment. "That appears to be a shrinking spell." He looked up at Harry. "Did you reduce your trunk before you came to school?"
"Yes, sir." Harry replied, looking bored with the whole procedure.
Dumbledore tapped Harry's wand, ending the presentation. "I think that is sufficient evidence, Mr. Potter, and I appreciate your candour. If we now watch the memories, we should get this whole matter cleared up."
The group, bar Harry, sank into the Pensieve, their features glazing over while their conscious minds were inside the mythical device. Wiggling his finger, Harry switched Snape's underwear with Malfoy's, and tied his shoelaces together. Simple little pranks, but they would keep him amused for a while. He debated doing the same switch with Dumbledore and McGonagall, but decided against it. He was trying to get Dumbledore to behave, and pranking the man wouldn't do him any favours... except make him laugh.
Five minutes later found Harry engaged in a furious staring contest with Fawkes, winning this one since his eyes were bigger than the bird's. The other five people in the office suddenly began moving.
"Mr. Potter is correct, Mr. Malfoy. There is no evidence of his destroying your team's brooms. It must have been a bad batch. Your apology will be delivered at dinner this evening. Dismissed."
As Malfoy got up to walk out, Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, you attacked a student, more importantly, you attacked the Head of an Ancient and Noble house. Mr. Potter may press charges on your for your assault."
Snape's mouth dropped open at what he was being told. "He attacked a teacher! I want him expelled!"
"You attacked him first, Severus." McGonagall said sharply. "Lord Potter, will you be pressing charges against Professor Snape?"
Harry shook his head. "No, ma'am. Honour has been satisfied... for the moment. However, if Snape attempts to assault me again, it shall be met with appropriate force."
"Understood, Lord Potter." McGonagall said firmly, before turning to Snape. "Your apology will also be made at dinner. You're dismissed, Severus. Please leave."
Snape stood to leave, falling forward as he realised his shoes were tied together. With a roar, he pulled his feet apart, snapping the laces as he stalked away.
McGonagall sighed as she turned to Dumbledore. "Albus, that man is trouble. I suggest keeping a very close eye on him in the future."
"I will." Dumbledore replied quietly, before turning to Harry. "Thank you for not killing him, Harry."
Harry shrugged. "I meant what I said though, sir. If he tries anything, I will retaliate. And I'm willing to bet I can be a damned sight more vicious than he can. I've given enough warnings, and let enough go, that he's now run out of chances. The ice is cracking underneath him. His next misstep and he goes down."
"Is there anything else we need to discuss, Harry?" Dumbledore asked slowly, wondering just how far that repaired bridge would reach.
"I don't think so, sir." Harry replied casually. "Unless there's anything you wish to discuss with me?"
Dumbledore's eyes lit up. "Actually, there was one thing. It's about your box." Flitwick and McGonagall groaned in unison. Dumbledore ignored them. "How does it work?"
Harry smiled. This was a side of the Headmaster he liked. Not the manipulative old man, but the big kid inside, the one who wore silly hats on Christmas, the one who would eat lemon drops all day. "You remember that circular console in the middle?" Dumbledore nodded. "That's a programmable Portkey. Can go anywhere. It's attached to the box, which means that wherever the console goes, the box goes with it. Makes it very smooth and comfortable."
"Ah... how did you come up with it?"
"I've taken a Portkey, and I wanted to throw up afterwards. It made sense to see if I could find a way to smooth out the ride. So, it's self-contained. Works for me."
"Ingenious..." Dumbledore sighed. "It's nice to see the youth of today working on society's problems."
"Yes... May I be dismissed, sir? I'm quite hungry."
"Hmm?" Dumbledore looked up. "Of course, I'm sorry. Please, go and get some lunch."
Harry stopped at the door. "Sir? I'm glad that we're able to work together." He vanished through the door.
"I'm glad too, Harry." Dumbledore said, looking up at Minerva. "Go on, then." He sighed.
"He's a good young man, Albus." McGonagall scolded lightly. "Work with him, and I think we'll all be happier."
"Aye..."
September had two important meanings for Harry; the first was the return to school, enjoyable because he truly liked Hogwarts, and the second, and more important, was Hermione's birthday on the 19th.
He'd managed to find her a useful on-the-day present, (since the cat from hell was her main present) and waited until he saw her.
As she came down the stairs, he smiled widely at her. "Good morning, Hermione! My goodness, you look stunning! Happy birthday!"
Hermione blushed prettily, as she did every time Harry complimented her, before she wrapped him in a hug. "Good morning, Harry. Thank you."
He grabbed something from the couch, presenting it to her with a flourish. "Here you are, girlfriend."
"Harry, you shouldn't have." She scolded lightly. "You already got me a present."
"Speaking of which," He glanced around warily, "where is the demon?" He squeaked as something gently pawed the back of his leg, warning him that, next time, claws could be extended. "Oh, morning, Crookshanks."
The cat glared at him, before mewing piteously at Hermione's feet, looking up at her. She leaned down, scooping the animal up and hugging him. Crookshanks gave Harry a superior look as he was cuddled.
"Yeah, eat it up, furball." Harry murmured. "Anyway, here." Hermione put Crookshanks onto the couch, taking the book from Harry. She ripped open the paper, seeing a book.
"'Familiar Magic'?" She looked up at him. "What's it about?"
"Since demon-cat's your familiar, instead of just a pet, you can use him in some spells and rituals. That book shows most of them."
"Ooh..." Hermione was about to sit down and start reading.
"However, how about brekkie first?" Harry asked, spotting the signs of an impending Hermione read-a-thon.
She blushed, rushing up the stairs to her dorm room to drop the book into her library trunk, before dashing back downstairs.
"So... party tonight?" Harry asked, leading her through the portrait hole.