Plot: My answer to Proud Mudblood's Year Two Challenge: Instead of being in the Great Hall, Harry is in the Hospital Wing waiting for Hermione to be awakened from petrification. Because of the relative solitude, Hermione gathers her courage and gives him kiss, and they become a couple.
Normal Speech
'Thought'
{Parseltongue}
'Mind Speech'
Harry/Hermione
Neville/Luna
Chapter 1: The Oncoming Storm
It was official: Harry James Potter had the worst luck in the entire wizarding world: one minute, he was being thanked by his friends and by those who had been petrified; the next, he was blacking out and waking up in the Hospital Wing, with Madam Pomfrey acting one step away from saying something along the lines of, "So, here again are you Potter? Maybe you should move in!"
It surprised Harry that five days had actually passed between he and Ron rescuing Ginny and the current situation, where he was now lying in a hospital bed, Madam Pomfrey performing scans, before allowing him a temporary hiatus in which he would make notes on lessons for Hermione and, when he wasn't doing that, he would be found in one place.
At the bedside of one Hermione Jane Granger, his hand holding her stiff corpse as if trying to fuel magic into the body before him, his mood darkening to a dangerous point whenever he was with her. He didn't actually know when he had figured out his feelings for the brown-haired Muggleborn, but, whenever it was, he was glad for it. Yes, he did love Hermione and, as her closest friend, he wanted to make sure he was here when Professors Sprout and Snape finished the Mandrake Restoration Draught, which would give Harry the chance to tell her himself.
In the meantime, she was someone he could talk to and, after Madam Pomfrey had told him off for sneaking across the ward to see her, the matron had taken pity on him and placed Miss Granger's bed right next to his so that he could talk in complete safety and privacy. Looking to her still-petrified body, Harry heaved a sigh before, reaching across to her, the young wizard wrapped his hand around Hermione's and, with no regrets as to what he was going to say, began to speak.
"Hermione, I know that you always tell me that I'm reckless and that I have no regard for the rules, but, if you could only understand how I felt about you and about the regard for the rules, then you could see the logic in my actions." Heaving a sigh, Harry knew that there would be repercussions, but he was glad that it was Hermione he was speaking to: she would understand him.
"Contrary to popular belief, I wasn't given the life of the pampered prince or the spoilt brat; instead, I was locked in a cupboard from a very young age where my growth and nutrition was greatly shunned by a lack of proper meals or exercise. If I said or did anything that the Dursleys disliked, they would hurt me, or rather, Dudley and Uncle Vernon would hurt me while Aunt Petunia found it all right to wound me by aiming for my heart and the last few good memories I have of my parents. When Hagrid came and told me that I was a wizard, I was ecstatic because I now knew why I was so different from anyone else; I saw a reason to strike back at those who thought themselves in charge and, while I can't really excuse myself for putting my friends in so much danger, there is one event that I cannot regret no matter what I try to do. Meeting a certain brown-haired bookworm on the Hogwarts Express and, not one month later, saving that girl's life."
Checking to see whether he could be seen by the matron, Harry slowly crept out of bed and moved over to Hermione, his body now next to hers as he continued, "I was going to wait until you woke up until I said this, but I feel that, if I tried, then I would be too scared or distracted by Ron and the other Gryffindors. Hermione, I want you to know that the only true regret that I have against my recklessness is putting you in the line of fire: the troll, Fluffy, Hagrid's dragon, the polyjuice potion and now your petrification. Hermione, I know and will understand if you can never forgive me, but I need to say it: I love you; I always have and I always will and, if you come back to me, then I promise you that I will cut down on my reckless behaviour and be the best boyfriend you can ever ask for: just please," he soon found tears in his eyes as he held onto her, "Please Mione; come back to me."
"Potter?"
Looking up, Harry saw Madam Pomfrey standing at the entrance to their private area, a bottle of dark brown liquid in her hand; with hope in his eyes, Harry asked, "Is…is that…?"
"The antidote," Answered Poppy, smiling as she saw the two Gryffindors lying next to one another; a part of her wondering if that poll on who would capture Harry's heart was still available; when she had heard the boy pour his heart out, she had known that the right to wake up the seemingly sleeping Gryffindor girl would be Harry's. "If you perform the swallowing charm on Miss Granger, you can help her take it in: after that, wait a few minutes and…well, do the only thing you can…pray."
"Yes ma'am," Harry replied, taking the bottle from Madam Pomfrey; looking to the seemingly sleeping student, Harry gently poured the antidote into her mouth, using the spell Madam Pomfrey had suggested before he found himself holding onto Hermione, Poppy disappearing to give them some privacy.
Harry held onto Hermione for what seemed like hours, gently soothing himself by allowing his hands to massage her back, his eyes closed as he whispered, "Hermione, I don't know if you heard me, but I need you to listen to me now. I need you and I love you; if you couldn't hear me then I'll say it again; come back to me and you'll see a whole new Harry Potter, but now, just please wake up. I need you Hermione Granger and I…" tears continued to stream down his cheeks as he held onto the Muggleborn, "I love you."
One of Harry's tears fell from his eyes; had anyone taken a closer look at the tear, however, they would have seen a near-miniscule spark of silver in the center of the tear, Harry's arms holding onto Hermione as it splashed onto her cheek, a whole new strength filling the young Potter as he held onto her.
"I love you too."
Harry's eyes snapped open; he had heard it, but a part of him didn't want to believe it; still holding the body of the young Granger, Harry whispered, "Hermione?"
"Yes?" asked a weak, but very much alive voice.
"Y-you do?"
"I do," Hermione replied, pulling back from Harry and looking into his eyes, her own dark brown slowly regaining their lustre as she smiled at him, "And I did hear you: Harry, I promise that, if it's the last thing I do, I will see you freed from those monsters, but for now, will do you me one favour?"
"Anything," Harry replied, smiling at Hermione as he asked, "What is your wish my Hermione?"
"Kiss me," replied the Muggleborn, "As my boyfriend, I believe you have that right."
Harry nodded at her, before he leaned in close and gently placed his lips against hers, his tears still falling and, as he found her responding to his kiss, Harry also found that he didn't want to let go of Hermione.
As their kiss deepened, neither Harry nor Hermione had any idea of the powerful silvery glow that enveloped their bodies; neither were they aware of the magical influence that it was having on their bodies; all around them, there was a sudden ominous rumble of thunder and, as Harry kissed his new girlfriend, he would swear blindly that he heard a sound like the crashing waves as he remained in the arms of his Hermione.
However, while Harry and Hermione weren't aware of the effect of their kiss, there were two particular parties in the world that were…
HPHG
If there was one thing that the goblin nation valued above gold and treasures, it was the effect of a new lord and lady being found, but, when the goblins saw their leader, Ragnok, emerging from his hallowed halls, his eyes wide and filled with a sense of hallowed honour, they knew that this lord and lady would be unlike any other.
"Griphook," barked Ragnok, "Prepare our best treatments and inform me immediately if Sire Potter comes into the bank, do you hear me?"
"Yes my lord," Griphook replied, bowing with homage to his leader: Ragnok was not known for appearing on a random whim and, if Griphook's client, otherwise known as one Heir Harry James Potter, was the name spoken by the goblin leader, then it made it that much more important and that much more insistent to obey him.
"Also," Ragnok commanded, "I want the access for vaults 1366 and 1712 in my office immediately."
There was a collective gasp before Griphook, still falling over the chief's last request, gasped out, "But Lord Ragnok, those vaults can only be approved by…"
"I know," Ragnok agreed, "Just do it; I will contact the Overseers to deal with the permissions."
Griphook would never again disobey a command from Ragnok; nor would he ever again shirk in his duties to Sire Potter; not if those vaults were to be accessed.
HPHG
Firenze and Bane looked to the stars, both centaurs sharing a look before the dark-haired centaur looked to his friend and, with a scoff, asked, "Do you realise what this means?"
"I do," Firenze answered, still looking to the heavens, "They have finally been chosen and now the battle shall begin anew."
"Bane," a deep, rumbling voice called out, "Firenze; are you there?"
Turning to the source of the voice, the two centaurs watched as a pair of cloaked, hooded figures appeared in their midst, both figures looking to the centaurs before one of them spoke, "Well met children of Artemis."
"Well met Lords of Nature," Bane remarked, bowing forwards on his forelegs as he asked, "What happens to the children now?"
"First," the second figure answered, "They must explore their relationship before we are to appear to them: if the Oracle spoke the truth then these two shall unite the forces of nature and form the Balance once again; however, to do that, the unthinkable must happen."
"As the humans would say," Bane commented, "Your brother must be having a field day to learn of this."
"You have no idea," answered the first figure, "I have not seen him so happy in centuries: now remember you two, we chose you as foals and gave you our gifts so you could guide, guard and watch over the younglings; if their destiny is to be met, it must be alone."
"As you wish Storm Lord," Firenze commented, "However, the stars speak of another coming to aid the children; your Champion, Storm Lord, will be assisted by the Death Omen in his battle against the betrayers of destiny."
"And what of mine?" asked the second figure.
"She will be great indeed Ocean Lord," answered Bane, "But in the end, the balance shall be restored by their unity: tell us, when do we send them to you?"
"When one year has passed," answered the one known as Storm Lord, "Until then, you are to let the children have their lives and their love; the old one must not interfere any longer. If that happens, we shall send a scout to aid them and, only if that must be done shall we appear to them ourselves."
"As you wish," Firenze bowed, before he and Bane walked off into the forest, leaving the two figures to watch the silhouette of the school, Storm Lord speaking to his companion.
"We are taking a big risk here brother: putting our faith in mortals," he looked to Ocean Lord as he added, "That has not been done since the days of Emrys."
"I am aware of that brother," answered Ocean Lord, "But these two are different; they have ties to a lineage that is rightfully theirs; your Champion alone has the means to build his strength, but is halted by constant interferences."
"Then," Storm Lord remarked, looking to the school, a pair of electric blue eyes suddenly shining from beneath his hood, "That, brother, is the first thing that needs to change."
HPHG
Harry felt like he was walking on air: he had his friend, his girlfriend back with him and he also had a whole new reason to leave the naïve, childish, reckless side of him behind. When he had poured out his soul to Hermione, he had half-expected her to turn her back on him and think him a freak, but instead, she had asked him to kiss her and then, when they had parted, it had been like the biggest light switch in the world had been flicked on in Harry's head.
All of a sudden, he felt a new understanding for magic: things he couldn't understand before were almost clear as crystal to him; he could even see that there were those in the world who wanted to be his friend simply because of his station as the Boy-Who-Lived. So far, there had been very few people who would see him as Harry and that, combined with his new attitude, was what now drove him to his destination.
Stopping outside his destination, Harry lifted a hand and knocked on the door, a familiar Scottish voice calling out, "Come in!"
Opening the door, Harry spoke not with the attitude of a bumbling fool, but a proud member of the lion's pride, "I apologise if I disturbed you Professor McGonagall, but I would like to request a change in my electives for next year."
"I see," Minerva replied, watching as Harry closed the door behind him and looked to her, a new sense of duty and pride in every word he spoke and every step he took. "And, if I may be so bold Potter, is it the sudden recovery of young Miss Granger that has brought this on?"
"That is one of the reasons ma'am," Harry answered, his eyes on his Head of House, "The other is because I feel that I should earn my marks, which is why I wish to drop Divination and instead choose to take Advanced Charmcasting as well as Ancient Runes, but keep Care of Magical Creatures."
"Advanced Charms is an interesting choice," Minerva replied, her eyes on her young lion as she asked, "But why would you choose two new electives and keep Care? You know that will cut down your free time and I daresay that Mr Wood will be disappointed if you slack on your Quidditch duties."
"Which is why my next stop is Gryffindor Tower," Harry replied, looking to Minerva as he saw her obviously trying to change his mind. "I am officially leaving the Gryffindor Quidditch Team as, between you and me Professor, every time I have been in a match, I have almost seriously injured myself and, when I should be focusing on my studies, I was instead flying around and being Mr Reckless with the help of the Quidditch team."
"Well," McGonagall gasped, "I never thought I'd hear you say that Potter; however, as your Head of House, all I can do is approve your resignation and hope that you enjoy your new classes: would you also like Miss Granger to take those lessons?"
Harry, as if he had expected this question, removed a parchment from his robe and, handing it to McGonagall, explained, "This is her letter to you; she would have told you personally, but Madam Pomfrey suggested 48 hours recovery and, being my Hermione, she didn't want to leave it too late."
The my Hermione slip had been intentional: seeing her lion looking like someone she had never met before, Minerva could only smile at him as she nodded and replied, "Thank you Potter; I will make the necessary changes and, when you next see Miss Granger, give her my best: she is a lucky girl to have someone like you at her side."
"No Professor," Harry remarked, smiling himself as he inclined his head in a thanks, before turning to leave the office, "I'm the lucky one."
HPHG
Gryffindor Tower was alive and well with the recovery of its House ghost, one of its first-years and its resident bookworm and one half of the pride of Gryffindor.
So, when Harry walked into the tower, his eyes scanning the room like a man on a mission, the first to approach him was Neville, who asked, "Harry, how's Hermione doing?"
"She's doing a lot better Neville," Harry replied, a warm smile on his face as he added, "In fact, now that she has someone to love her for being her, she's like a whole new Hermione."
"Yeah," Neville agreed, before he caught Harry's knowing look, the penny dropping as he asked, "What? You and her?"
"Yep," Harry smiled, "And I don't care what anybody else thinks: I love her and will always stand with her; now, have you seen Oliver anywhere?"
"Quidditch field," Neville replied, before he watched with shock as Harry seemed to stride past him, making his way to the boys' dormitory; once there, Harry recovered all the notes he had taken for Hermione and turned to leave when he found himself stopped by one Ronald Weasley, the youngest male of the red-haired clan looking at him in shock.
"Harry mate," he seemed to laugh as if he had just been told a funny joke. "Neville just said that you and Hermione were…" he gave a hollow laugh before he asked, "That you were…boyfriend and girlfriend?"
"Yes," Harry replied, before holding up his notes, "And now I'm going to give her these before we make plans for the summer together."
The door to the dorm opened and Harry watched as Neville, Dean and Seamus all walked in, the Irish half-blood congratulating Harry while the dark-skinned lion simply gave Harry a friendly nod of his head, obviously recognising the fact that Harry's love for Hermione was genuine: nobody would be stupid enough to question otherwise, would they?
Obviously, Dean forgot that they shared a dorm with Ronald Weasley, the human incarnation of the term open mouth, insert foot.
As Harry reached the door, Ron scoffed as he whispered, "Good of Harry to take pity on her."
"What?" asked Harry, stopping dead, Dean and Seamus sharing a look as if recognising the signs of an approaching blow-out: in their two years with Harry, they had only seen his reactions a few times, but, as Ron appeared to be a lot denser than he first appeared, he didn't see what they did. As they had discovered, there were two stages to Harry's anger: when he was annoyed with someone, Harry would yell and scream until he eventually knew the limit and went somewhere to cool off: that was like a Force 3 tornado; however, with the second stage, it was a Force 12 earthquake and it all began with Harry standing tense and straight, his hands at his side, his lips pursed and almost bloodless, his eyes screaming murder before, with but one more word, the snake would strike and the lion would rip a whole new world of trouble into its victim.
"Well," Ron laughed, ignoring the warning signs from his fellow Gryffindors, "She's not exactly good-looking is she? More of a practice girlfriend if you…"
His next words were cut off by a move that seemed to come out of nowhere, Harry's fist colliding with the side of Ron's jaw in a motion that was faster than lightning: then the Hurricane, as the other boys described Harry's 2nd stage, struck the boys dormitory. Harry leapt on top of Ron, fists flying and Harry tearing into the Weasley boy as if he cared about nothing more.
Thinking quickly, Neville cast the first spell that came to mind, "Petrificus Totalus!"
The effect was instantaneous: Harry was frozen in place, his arms and legs bound to his side, his body now dropping off Ron's, exposing a clearly bleeding Weasley's face, his jaw slightly distended and his nose looking even more crooked than Dumbledore and Snape combined.
"Harry," Neville remarked, "I'm going to release you, but you can't kill him: he is an idiot, I won't defend him from that, but to strike out like that is just wrong. We think you and Hermione make a good couple and encourage you to spend as much time as you need to together; other than that, there nobody else's opinion that matters."
When Harry's eyes, which were seemingly alive with energy and magic, finally softened, Neville released the young Gryffindor, before handing him the notes he'd dropped and, with no real remorse, then stepped over the groaning Weasley, before he held out his hand, "If this git can't accept you, then allow me to take his place in the Gryffindor Trio: I'll make sure that no-one abuses your Hermione and I'll keep your anger in check."
"Thanks Neville," sighed Harry, gathering up the last of his notes before he shook the boy's hand, "But why?"
"Because," Neville answered, "In our past, there has always been a Potter and a Longbottom working together and I'm not going to betray that brotherhood. Now, why don't you get yourself back to Hermione and we'll take care of the garbage?"
When Harry obliged, he turned on his heel and walked out, his footsteps almost echoing through the hall as he returned to the Hospital Wing, leaving the three remaining Gryffindor boys to look at the damaged heap at their feet. Now they had witnessed it, Dean and Seamus would never insult Hermione, even if Harry wasn't around; they had called him Hurricane Harry at that level, but now, he would have a new title:
The Oncoming Storm!
Chapter 2: No Matter What
When Hermione Granger saw the doors to the Hospital Wing open, the last person she had expected to be brought through them was Ronald Weasley, let alone in the state he was: his jaw was broken and his nose seemed almost flattened against his face; he had both eyes blackened and, as he passed her bed, Hermione then noticed the dried blood on his robes.
One name came to the mind of the young Miss Granger, "Harry."
The only question was why he had done it and, as Hermione continued to look, she then saw her fellow second-years Dean and Seamus walking into the Wing, both of them looking to the battered carcass before, to her surprise; they both walked over to her bed and stood there, almost protectively.
"Guys?" asked Hermione worriedly, "What happened?"
"I think it best that Harry explain it to you Hermione," Dean advised her, remaining at his post as if ordered. "Cliff Notes version: Ron called you practice and Harry became the Hurricane that we all know and fear."
'Oh no,' thought Hermione, watching as the door opened once more, this time admitting the familiar figure of her boyfriend, his emerald eyes filled with rage as he saw the two Gryffindors standing there; at a closer glance, Hermione also noticed that Harry's hair was almost literally standing on end, raw magic being exuded as he walked over towards her. 'How could Ron do something so stupid as to insult me in Harry's presence?'
"What are you two still doing here?" asked Harry warningly, his tone of voice telling Hermione all she needed to know: the wrong word would probably cost them the ability to reproduce or, even worse, walk over the summer.
"We're here protecting something that is worth more than gold to you Harry," Dean explained, before he stepped aside and watched as the two Gryffindors embraced one another, Hermione running a soft hand through Harry's black hair, the raw magic leaving him in calming waves as he felt his girlfriend's hands on him.
'Good answer,' thought Hermione, before she looked at her Harry and asked, "Dean gave me the cliff notes version, but I want to hear it from you Harry: what happened to put Ron in here?"
Harry didn't waste time explaining: as he did, his voice became slightly darker and a lot less innocent until it sounded like Harry Potter had become The Terminator: his voice was cold and emotionless as he looked up at Hermione, "I will never allow anyone to say a cross-word about my girl: I promised you that I would love you and protect you and, if that means resorting to Muggle means to deal with the situation then so be it."
"All right," Hermione replied, her hand still soothing Harry's rising temper, "But please Harry, if you need to resort to that, then make sure I am around to keep you calm: I don't want my boyfriend getting into trouble over some idiot who can't keep his mouth shut; promise?"
"I promise," Harry replied, now fully calmed as he seemed to curl up in front of his Hermione, her soft hands even more therapeutic than even her kind words could have managed. Looking from his girlfriend to Dean and Seamus, Harry nodded calmly to them, "Thank you both for what you chose to do: my Hermione means more to me than you can ever understand. I know it's not much, but I hope that I can start considering the two of you as my friends as well as Neville."
"We'd be glad to be friends with you Harry," Dean answered, before he indicated Hermione as he added, "Besides, my mother always taught me to stand up for my friends and, even though my dad decided to do a runner, I stand true to my beliefs. I'll protect Hermione when you're unable to be there and Hermione, I'll do the same for Harry."
"He's right," Seamus agreed, "Think of us as your personal bodyguards and the first line of defence between idiots like the git over there and the Oncoming Storm."
"The what?" laughed Harry, Hermione slightly confused as well.
"Your anger," Seamus answered, "Kind of catchy though right?"
"I guess," Hermione sighed, looking down at her boyfriend as she continued, "You always were like the approaching storm and, given the visual evidence, it's clear that, for the first time, the storm has come to Hogwarts."
"Then I'll do my best to ride out the storm," Harry sighed, looking to Dean and Seamus as he added, "Consider yourselves interim bodyguards to my girlfriend here: do well enough and I'll do what I can to make this permanent."
As Dean and Seamus returned to their posts, Harry looked up at Hermione, the late-afternoon light that shone in through the window making it look like she was bathed in light; she was the world to him and, even though he now had protectors for her, there would be better chance of a ballet-dancing Dark Lord than Harry leaving her to suffer.
'Protecting something that is worth more than gold to me,' Harry though, quoting Dean's words exactly, 'That was a good answer and it is the truth.'
Soon, helped along by Hermione's soft touch, Harry found himself falling asleep in his girlfriend's embrace, their interim bodyguards remaining ever-vigilant as the night rolled in; only when Hermione gave them an assurance that she would be fine did Dean and Seamus return to Gryffindor Tower.
Both promising that they would be watching over their commander and his girlfriend from first thing the next morning…
HPHG
As all of Hogwarts surrendered themselves to the enrapturing embrace of sleep, there was one who was seemingly determined to do anything but sleep; in his office, Albus Dumbledore found himself at a quandary: the portraits had reported the punch-up between Harry and the Weasley boy and, in that single moment, Albus cursed the red-head's foul act of timing. He hadn't planned on Harry rescuing the young Miss Weasley so that her infatuation would continue all for nothing; that idiot boy was his ace-in-the-hole and now, with the reports that Ron was out and Longbottom was in, Albus knew he would have to act fast.
Looking to his private collection of gadgets, Albus scowled as he saw the wards around Privet Drive weakening: if Harry didn't return to his relatives in the summer, then Albus would find himself with his weapon at full power come September First. Harry needed to return to Privet Drive to recharge the blood wards of protection, but also to ensure that his magic was weakened and kept to the level where Harry was easy to mould into the saviour and then, when the time was right, Albus would do what was necessary to show the world that there was no-one in the world who was greater than him.
Yes, for the Greater Good, it all had to come to pass and, with the old man's latest plan being set into motion, the key element to Harry's destiny was about to be released, in more ways than one.
Little did Albus know that, as he went to ensure his plans went to fruition, a certain pet of his had heard every word and, glancing at its ancient kinsman, made a joint agreement to do what was necessary to protect Harry and the newly-found Lady of the House of Potter.
"Yes Fawkes," the Sorting Hat whispered, "The time is right: do what you need to old friend."
Fawkes let out a near-silent song of thanks before he spread his wings and flamed away, leaving the ancient hat to snigger at what was about to happen; the ancient game of chess was about to take a rather unusual twist in the game and, if Fawkes' plan was successful, then the White Knight would do what he needed to in order to escape the chains that bound him to his eventual death.
"Albus," the hat growled, its sole voice sounding like four people speaking at once, "Not even you can hide from destiny."
HPHG
'Harry…Potter…'
Harry turned over in his sleep as a musical voice sang within his mind, a feeling of strength and euphoria filling his body as he knew he was still being held by the love of his life; however, as he tried to block it out, the voice returned. 'You must listen to me Harry Potter, for there is much for you to learn.'
"What…what do you mean?" mumbled Harry sleepily, a bright warmth filling him as he listened, "Who…who are you?"
'I am an old friend,' the voice answered, 'Come to aid his true master in the destiny that has been set for you; while I cannot tell you more yet, I can tell you this. A warning: no matter what you choose to do, Harry Potter, you must not return to Number Four Privet Drive this summer; I will send a friend to help protect you from the old one, but it is essential that you do not return to Privet Drive nor do you allow yourself to lock eyes with the old one.'
"The…Old One?" asked Harry, his eyes cracking open, a sliver of light in front of him, "You mean…Professor Dumbledore?"
'I do,' the light answered, 'You have gifts that you will discover over the summer, but to learn them and use them to their fullest extent, you must remain with your Lady at all times. Do whatever is necessary to escape the old one and do not allow yourself to be forced back to that place you called home. I can and will help you, my friend, but first, you must allow me into your mind so that my plan for your freedom can be put into motion.'
"Do what you need to," Harry replied, "No matter what…I have to do…I'll never go…back."
A sense of warmth and magic rolled over Harry before the voice, almost pleased with itself, spoke to him once more, 'Thank you Harry Potter; rest assured that I will be swift with my works. Now, when you and your Lady discover your powers, you must not fear them or they shall corrupt you; I will return to you soon, but, for now, take one last gift.'
Before Harry could ask anything more, there was a soft, stunningly beautiful sound ringing in his ears, his magic almost reacting to the noise as Harry found sleep welcoming him once more, a single tear falling from his eyes as he listened.
A tear filled with an even brighter silver spark than before;
As sleep grabbed onto him, Harry finally knew the name of his mysterious benefactor, "Fawkes."
By the time he had said the word, the phoenix had flamed out of the Hospital Wing, his plans set in motion: his gift to Harry would ensure that both he and the Lady Hermione were safe from the old one's attacks and, thanks to Fawkes sharing his magic with his soon-to-be-new master, Harry would be able to protect Hermione with powers that the old one could never match.
As the old one would say, Fawkes considered this betrayal of his loyalty to the old one for the Greater Good…
HPHG
When Hermione opened her eyes the next morning, she felt elation as she realised that it was now her first official day as the girlfriend to her White Knight; however, when she looked to her side and saw the absence of Harry Potter, Hermione began to worry. Rising from her bed, Hermione looked through the gap in her curtains, where she then heard the sound of running water as well as what appeared to be an almost pleasant humming.
Harry must have been using the Hospital Wing showers to help clean himself up; with a sigh, Hermione was about to retreat back into the enclosed space when, as promised, the door opened and Dean and Seamus entered, both of them waving merrily to her as they stood at her side. Shaking her head, Hermione opened her curtain and watched as her guards took their places at her sides, the lithe form of Harry James Potter emerging from the showers not five minutes later, his usually messy hair now slick and flat against his head, running down to his shoulders.
"That's a hell of a lot better," he sighed, before taking Hermione in his arms and kissing her on the lips, "Good morning love."
"Good…morning," Hermione replied, running her fingers through her boyfriend's hair, feeling a new meaning to the term silky soft under her fingers. When she reached the tips, she asked, "How?"
"Thank Dobby," Harry replied, "He suggested a shampoo that is magically altered to help deal with the messiest of hairs; there's another bottle in my bag if you want to borrow it sometime love."
"Dobby?" asked Hermione suddenly, "Didn't you free him from the Malfoys a week ago?"
"Yes," Harry replied, before he looked almost sheepish as he added, "And then, when you recovered, I bound him to me; he's not a servant and I gave him full permission to request for payments, but he said, and I quote: Dobby is paid enough knowing he works for a great man as Harry Potter sir."
Hermione wanted to scold her boyfriend for enslaving the young elf; however, at the high-pitched impression he gave of Dobby, she found herself roaring with laughter, before she asked, "So…did you get them?"
"Oh," Harry retorted, reaching into his bag and withdrawing the notes he had made over Hermione's absence; when she saw them, however, Hermione could only gasp as she saw not the untidy scrawl that had once been the norm for Harry; instead, the writing was clear and almost fluid-like in style, as if Harry had been writing a royal declaration of some kind. Looking from the notes to her boyfriend, Hermione saw Harry smiling at her as he explained, "I couldn't let you read that mess I call writing; so, with help from Neville and the other Gryffs, I managed to fix my bad penmanship and then, well, as you can see, I made as many notes as I could."
"Harry," Hermione gasped, "These are amazing; oh thank you."
She rewarded him with another kiss, which made the very blood in Harry's veins rush with excitement as he gently pressed his head against hers as he dropped the bomb, "Though it doesn't matter anyway as Professor Dumbledore has cancelled the exams."
"Oh well," Hermione remarked, "I guess that means that you have more time for me and I have more time for you my Harry."
"Get used to it," Harry informed her, a part of him recalling Fawkes' visit from the night before, "I have the rest of my life for you Hermione."
HPHG
Returning to Gryffindor Tower was like a hero's welcome for Harry and Hermione; apparently, word had spread even further about their newfound relationship and, amidst the cheers and laughter about their future, the Gryffindors seemed to recognise the one true Alpha Male and Female among their Pride.
Then came the meeting Harry hadn't been looking forwards to: Ginny walked over to them as the two elder Gryffs took seats in front of the fireplace, running over Hermione's notes and Harry reading a book he had checked out of the library on 3rd year Charms and Defence Magic. In his mindset, if he was going to be taking Advanced Charms, then he needed to knuckle down to some serious training and, as a future Lord to his Lady, he was more determined to learn all he could to protect her.
Ginny shyly cleared her throat as she spoke up, "Erm…Harry, Hermione; I just want you both to know that I'm happy for you."
"Thanks Ginny," smiled Harry, placing his book page down, before he stood up and held out his hand, "It's good to know that there's one Weasley who's happy to see that we go together so well."
Ginny took the hand, shaking it before Harry, much to her surprise, pulled her into a warm and friendly hug, her eyes watching Hermione fearfully; when she saw that the brunette had no trouble with this, Ginny let herself be embraced by Harry as he spoke to her, "I understand that you seem almost infatuated with the Harry Potter fantasy, but while I have no real liking for taking anyone but my Hermione as my girl, you are more than welcome, in fact always welcome, to think of me as a really good friend and, if you ever need to talk about what happened with You-Know-Who, then I'll listen, okay Gin?"
"Kay," replied the youngest Weasley, slightly shocked at Harry's honesty. "Thanks Harry."
Unfortunately, at that exact moment, a familiar voice called out, "So Ginny, you've fallen for the little freak's ploy as well? Isn't the mudblood enough for you without starting a harem Potter?"
Harry, however, didn't rise this time: reaching for his wand, he pointed past Ginny as he commanded, "Locomotor Mortis!"
There was an audible crash as Ron Weasley, now bandaged up and healed, fell to the floor, his legs locked seven ways from Sunday as Harry walked over to him, his wand still out.
"Get this through your head Weasley," Harry scowled, "I can do as many spells and jinxes on you all year and never get bored; you are a useless waste of space who isn't even worth my anger anymore. In the mean time, here's a present for you: Arachiaxus!"
The scream that tore through Gryffindor Tower was the loudest that had ever been recorded by the lions; when everyone turned to the source of the scream, they saw Ronald Weasley being bound by what could only be described as a horde of Acromantulas, their webbing tying him to the ground, Ron unable to do anything except what anybody witnessing their biggest fears would do.
First he pissed himself; then he shit himself; then he fainted, leaving the Gryffindors to laugh at his poor luck as Harry pocketed his wand and returned to Hermione's side, his little Spider Swarm Jinx wearing off after only two minutes.
Ginny, looking to the webbed up carcass of her older brother, was about to ask Harry if Ron was all right; however, the memory of what the git had said stopped her as Harry, sitting back down, calmly remarked, "I'm going to have to practice that one."
"What?" laughed Ginny, now joining her friends, "Harry: is that all you can say?"
"Yep," Harry answered, before indicating the book, "According to the texts, that jinx is supposed to last for nearly half-an-hour or until the victim is a living cocoon of spider-webs."
Ginny visibly shuddered as she found herself picturing what could have happened if Ron had been forced to endure that level of punishment: hopefully he would learn his lesson.
And hopefully, pigs would fly…
HPHG
The day before they were to leave for King's Cross, Harry and Hermione found themselves being summoned by Professor Dumbledore; Harry, recalling Fawkes' warning, turned to Hermione as they walked along the familiar corridor. "Hermione, no matter what, make sure you don't meet Dumbledore's eyes and, no matter what I say or do in here, know that I love you and always will."
"All right Harry," Hermione smiled, before Harry spoke the password and the two went up to the office, where they found a mix of welcome and unwelcome sights.
The welcome sights came in the form of Professor McGonagall, though her face showed a sense of stern disappointment that Harry supposed had something to do with the unwelcome sights.
Mrs Weasley and Ron were sat on the other side of the room, the red-headed male still slightly pale from his arachnid encounter not too long before; Harry had learned that Ron had been on the edge of a breakdown and that, had the Spider Swarm Jinx lasted any longer, he would have been unable to return to Hogwarts.
Harry couldn't see the downside to that; however, as he stood across from Professor Dumbledore, idly stroking Fawkes as if to reassure the light creature that all was well, Harry found his voice hardening as he asked, "So, what has the prat been telling you and why am I here?"
"Harry," Dumbledore began, Harry feeling a sense of hatred as he always did whenever the old man used his name. "Before we begin, I must ask you: was the mental bullying of Mr Weasley really necessary?"
"Necessary," Harry remarked, "No, but it was fun!"
"You dark wizard!" yelled Ron, but Harry was ready.
"Watch out: spider about," he commented, before a loud scuttling could be heard, instantly shutting Ron up while Mrs Weasley looked at Harry with a sense of disappointment.
"Harry dear, why would you attack Ron anyway? He and Hermione have always had fallings out, but this?"
"Falling out," laughed Harry sardonically, "Is that what he told you ma'am? Well, as the key witness to that event, let me tell you what happened: after Hermione recovered, I went to Professor McGonagall about changing my electives and then went to Gryffindor Tower where I was congratulated for finding my girlfriend in my best friend."
"Yes," Molly Weasley smiled, "I heard you and Ginny get along much…"
"Ginny?" asked Harry, "What tabloid reader told you that? No Mrs Weasley, I speak of my one true love: Hermione," he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, the Weasley matriarch's face falling and McGonagall suddenly developing a look of understanding as Harry continued. "Anyway, I returned to Gryffindor Tower to cheers and congratulations from my friends; then, someone, who will remain nameless, asked me what I saw in her and said she would be better as a…a…"
"Practice…girlfriend," Hermione finished for him, seeing Harry's temper rising again, though she wasn't faring any better.
With a sigh, Harry continued, "Yes…that: anyway, do you think I was going to let someone insult my Hermione so easily? Especially since it is the fault of that person that one Hermione Granger almost lost her life to a fully-grown mountain troll or didn't he tell you why Hermione was really in the girl's bathroom Halloween before last?"
Silence gave Harry his answer as he then heard a light sniffling; Minerva, watching with shock as she realised she was being lied to all this time, could only marvel at the speed in which Harry responded to Hermione's sadness. He moved like lightning and was soon at her side, comforting her as he continued his tale. "Then, not one week ago, your daughter, Mrs Weasley, approached me and said she was happy for Hermione and I; when we hugged and I invited her to be my good friend, without being my girlfriend, your son made a remark about me forming a harem involving your daughter and then dared to call my Hermione a…a…mudblood!"
The word came from Harry's lips in nothing more than a hushed whisper as he looked to Ron and Mrs Weasley, his temper slowly rising once more as he explained, "My mother was Muggleborn and she endured that word too many times; so I will be damned when I allow my friends to hear it directed at them, let alone from someone they consider a friend. If someone deserves to be punished today, its that insolent little red-haired git you call a son because, as far as I'm concerned, our friendship is over and, if I ever hear him mention that word to my Hermione, then I will make sure that Ronald Weasley can't curse the next generation with his idiot genes."
The threat, and the almost machine-like voice that spoke it, told all present that Harry meant every word; he then decided to really go for the gold as he looked at Dumbledore, his eyes focused on a point just a few inches to the left, "And, if you think I'm going back to Durzkaban for the summer, you can go to hell. Better yet, go to Durzkaban because I sure as hell am not: I am spending the summer with my girlfriend and coming back in September with her at my side."
"But Harry," Dumbledore began; Harry had had enough.
"It's Mr Potter to you," Harry snarled, "And I am not going back. Period. If I have to, then I'll run away and I'll keep running; you are my headmaster and therefore cannot tell me what to do outside these walls, do we understand one another sir?"
Dumbledore, seeing a certain other teenager standing before him, had to realise he had been beaten; however, Albus Dumbledore didn't give up as he replied, "Yes…Mr Potter."
His mind, however, was making a whole new set of plans to get the boy back under his rightful place: as the weapon of the real hero of the light side.
HPHG
As Harry and Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express, they found themselves flanked by what may as well have been all of Gryffindor; shaking his head, Harry made his way to a compartment where he found Neville reading through a rather old looking textbook, an unknown blonde girl sitting opposite him. Opening the compartment, Harry waved to Neville as he asked, "Mind if we join you Neville?"
"Not at all Harry," replied the young Longbottom, indicating the empty seats as Harry and Hermione joined them.
Noticing the looks he was getting from the book, Neville explained, "This is something that's been in my family for years: it's the Longbottom Codex; a guidebook and journal on family roles and responsibilities; it also names the allies of my families and even has a few spells that only a Longbottom could master."
"Really?" asked Hermione, "Can I take a look Neville?"
"Sorry Hermione," Neville answered, "Only a Longbottom or the betrothed of one can look at it; oh, and speaking of girls, allow me to introduce Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw and a good friend of mine."
"Pleasure," Luna replied, shaking Hermione's hand before she watched as Harry lightly kissed the back of her hand; Luna was a blue-eyed girl who reminded Harry of an angel in human form; she was wearing Ravenclaw robes and, as Harry looked down, he then saw that she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"Where are…" he began, but Luna cut him off.
"I seem to have things go missing a lot; I suspect Nargles," she answered, giving him a kind smile as she added, "It's a pleasure to meet you for real Sire Potter."
"Sire?" asked Harry, earning a look of shock from Neville and Luna.
"Sure," Neville answered, watching as Hermione seemed interested in Luna's mention of the Nargles. "It's what they call the Last Heir of an Ancient Family like yours; I mean, you should actually go to Gringotts Harry; with you approaching 13, you're entitled to your Codex and, as the Last Potter, you can declare yourself Lord of the Family as long as you have a reasonable Vassal of the Lord to guide you until you turn sixteen."
"So it's like emancipation?" asked Hermione, "He'd be in charge, but someone else would be watching over him."
"That's right," Neville agreed.
Hermione shared a look with Harry, the young wizard heaving a sigh as he shrugged, "Gringotts, here we come," he smiled, watching as the train rolled on its way to King's Cross.
Chapter 3: The Winds of Change
As the Hogwarts Express rolled into King's Cross, Harry gave Neville a verbal invitation to meet up over the holidays and said he would either send Hedwig or Dobby to confirm the invite; either way, Neville was more than happy to oblige to the request. Hermione, meanwhile, had gotten on very well with Luna and, as the train slowed down to a near-stop, she made the suggestion that they too meet up and discuss these creatures Luna had talked about.
Once off the train, Harry had practically run through the barrier, as if hoping to avoid the Weasleys, where Hermione gave him a soft kiss on his cheek as she whispered, "If you wait here Harry, I'll speak to Mum and Dad."
"Be quick," Harry suggested, his eyes catching sight of a familiar large man almost parting the King's Cross crowd like the Red Sea. Following her boyfriend's gaze, Hermione nodded as she seemed to understand what he was trying to say to her; looking around, Hermione caught sight of her parents smiling at the sight of their daughter. Before he knew what was happening, Harry found himself laughing as he saw a new side to Hermione; the brown-haired angel that he called his girlfriend seemed to throw off her bossiness and know-it-all rule-keeping attitude and replace it with a teenage girl who was just happy to see her parents.
Mr and Mrs Granger, both of whom showed Harry where Hermione got her looks from as well as her attitude and eagerness for knowledge, both hugged their daughter before Hermione led them across the platform to where Harry was waiting.
"Mum, Dad," Hermione spoke up, "Allow me to introduce my boyfriend and best friend Harry Potter; Harry, my love, allow me to introduce Daniel and Emma Granger."
Harry held out his hand and shook Mr Granger's hand firmly: with his wild dark hair and deep brown eyes, Harry thought he was looking at himself in a few years time. Keeping that thought to himself, Harry spoke up, "It's a pleasure to meet you sir; I hope I meet all the expectations any Father would wish on the boyfriend of his daughter."
Daniel, or Dan as he sometimes preferred to be known, had been a little sceptic when he had heard mention of the word boyfriend, but, at Harry's honesty and the way Hermione seemed both stunned and awed by his words, the elder Granger male felt that he couldn't hate this boy for anything wrong. Like any Father, Dan wanted only what was best for his little girl and, despite the first impressions he had been given when seeing Harry the previous summer, it was clear that this boy was exactly what was best for Hermione.
When Dan released Harry's hand, the young wizard turned and gently took Emma's hand, before he gave it a light kiss, as if a real lord in medieval times, before he spoke up, "Mrs Granger, it is a real privilege to meet you and see just where Hermione's loveliness comes from."
Emma fell in love with Harry herself at that moment: kneeling down, she threw her arms around him, not before noticing a sharp flinch and a strong intake of breath that may as well have been the hiss of a serpent. Hermione had said on a few occasions that Harry was unaccustomed to being given such nice treatments, but to flinch from a warm hug was something Emma hadn't been expecting.
"Harry," she addressed him with a real kind air, "You don't have to be so formal with us: please, feel free to call us Dan and Emma, okay?"
"O…okay," Harry replied, noticing a slightly worried look on the face of Hermione, as if she had noticed his discomfort with Emma's gesture; once Emma had let go of him, Harry then continued, "I'm glad I made such a nice impression on you both and want you to know that I could ask for no-one other than your daughter to stand at my side."
Dan's doubts about Harry were laid to rest with that statement: in the past, there had been those who would use Hermione because of her knowledge or because they felt sorry for her: Harry was neither of those things – his love and care for Hermione was genuine and, no matter how Dan or Emma looked at it, he would always be there to be at her side, even if he was a thousand miles away, he would find a way.
'Her real White Knight,' thought Dan, recalling the letter Hermione had sent when she had requested for Harry to join them for the summer.
"Well then," Emma smiled, "If you can follow us Harry, we'll take you to our place and I can get tea started: is spaghetti Bolognese all right for you?"
"Sounds perfect," Harry answered, before he turned and began to push his trunks towards the exit.
However, they had barely gotten to three feet from the door before Harry found his shoulder being grabbed by a strong, familiar grip, the muscles in his right arm straining with pain as Harry was whipped around, revealing the face of one Vernon Dursley, who looked both angry and humiliated.
"Where do you think you're going Boy?" he asked, not removing his hand from Harry's shoulder, the blood in Harry's right arm being cut off by the pressure.
"With my friends," Harry replied, "Didn't you get the letter?"
"You know full well that you do not use that freakishness to speak with us," Vernon growled, "Now, where are these friends?"
"Right here," Dan's voice replied, the rather built form of the Granger patriarch appearing next to Harry, "And you will let go of Harry or else."
"Who are you to tell me what I do to my property?" asked Vernon: that was the wrong thing to say.
Before his time as a dentist, Dan had trained with the police force and one of the many things he had learned was how to take down an enemy in greater mass than his own; taking Vernon's wrist, Dan squeezed two fingers into the flesh of the man's arm before he twisted round and flipped the large man over his head, Vernon not only flying over Dan, but taking Harry with him. Only Harry's two years of Quidditch reflexes saved him from a serious injury; as he followed the bulk of his uncle's body, Harry twisted round, landing on the gripped arm, the pain feeling like a numbing sensation that ran up his arm.
The impact on Vernon, however, was greater as he was forced to release Harry's arm, the young wizard gently rotating his shoulder and spinning his arm around as if to try and get the blood flowing again. However, Vernon wasn't going to let go of something that his monkey-shit mind believed was his by right.
Scrabbling to his feet, Vernon went to strike back at Dan…instead, he struck Harry, sending the young wizard flying through the air, the sound of trunks and Hedwig's cage clattering to the floor indicating where Harry had crashed, his ribs buckling against the rail of his trolley.
That was the last straw for Dan; seeing Harry grabbed by this man had enraged him; seeing Harry wounded while Dan had been trying to protect him had made him furious, but seeing Harry, with what could only be described as razor-sharp reflexes, jump in the way of this human locomotive of a man to stop him harming the male Granger…and then for Harry to be wounded with his ribs buckling and blood now pooling from his mouth was the last straw for Dan.
He wheeled round, putting all his speed into his strike as he caught Vernon with the front of his steel-capped shoes, the fat man sent sprawling across the floor as Dan walked across to him and, stepping on Vernon's chest, gave him one warning only, "Don't you ever call any child your property and don't you ever try and come near me or my family ever again and that includes Harry; if you do, I won't be held responsible for what happens."
Walking back across the platform, Dan found Harry staggering to his feet, his hand supporting his side as he looked to Dan, "Are…are you okay Dan?" he asked, fighting back a wave of pain as he went to gather his things together.
"I'm all right Harry," Dan replied, "But…what about…"
"Flesh wound," Harry replied, "He barely broke the skin, let alone the bone: he's either slacking or your toss of him was more effective than we thought."
With help from Hermione, Harry managed to gather his things together, Hedwig screeching with the indication of someone who had endured déjà vu in pain, while at the same time feeling a strong sense of worry for her master. It was only when the Grangers, who had to inform station security that they were taking Harry to a specialist for his wounds, managed to get their things to their car that Harry spoke again, "Dobby?"
With his signature crack, Dobby appeared before Harry, his eyes wide with shock as he saw his friend wounded, "Who has dared to harm Harry Potter sir?"
"It's nothing Dobby," gasped Harry, wiping blood from his lips and still wincing as pain racked his side, "I want you to take our things to the Granger's house and then inform Madam Pomfrey that I may need her help."
"At once sir," Dobby replied, vanishing with a click of his fingers; moments later, their trunks and Hedwig's cage vanished as well, leaving Harry to be assisted into the Granger's car, where Hermione insisted he lay his head on her lap.
Dan and Emma, meanwhile, were still feeling a sense of fear linking them at Harry's choice of words about his condition: either the fat man was slacking or Dan's throw had been more effective than Harry thought. Once again, Dan found his thoughts being corrected as he looked at his daughter comforting the boy…no, the man she loved: describing Harry as a man was the only thing Dan could do. It took a great amount of courage and strength to smile through such an ordeal, but to pass it off as saying it could be worse was like comparing the damage of a tornado to a volcanic eruption.
When he had been training with the police, Dan had seen many rookies pale in fear at such pain and such a monstrosity, but, seeing Harry not only endure it, not only laugh about it, but literally dive in the way of such an attack that Dan may as well have been a VIP told the Granger patriarch all he needed to know. Harry's emotions were based around the respect for those he held close to him: Hermione meant the world to him and so, through her, he knew that her parents were considered members of that world and that was worth putting his own health on the line for. Dan had finally accepted that Harry was the one for Hermione and, if it was the last thing he did, then Dan would make sure that he was able to hear Harry refer to the Grangers as his family.
Emma, meanwhile, was thinking about her Father, who had served in the wars and battled forces like no child could ever understand: every time he had come back, he had told her stories about the pain and angst he had felt knowing that men, women and children were dying for the greed and ego of their country and their country's leaders. He had told her that, to look in the eyes of the innocent and kill them in cold blood took a darkness that no-one should ever understand, but, to witness that pain and know you had to laugh about it took a level of emotional blackness that only a few chosen people could possess and, when you found that blackness, you could freely call yourself a warrior.
Well now, Emma Granger understood what her Father had meant by that: she had found that warrior and seen his blackness; she had seen his heart and seen him leap in front of the innocent to protect them, even if his life had been on the line:
That warrior's name was Harry Potter and, if it was the last thing she did, Emma was determined to make sure that Harry shed some light into that blackness as her Father had also given her a warning;
"If you ever meet the blackness Emi," he had told her, "Don't let it consume you as it will leave your heart as cold as death itself and love, family and respect: all these things will go out the window."
'I won't Father,' Emma thought, watching as Dan turned off the road towards their home, 'I'll protect Harry from his blackness: for all our sakes, but mostly for his.'
HPHG
When Dan and Emma pulled into the garage of their home in Crawley, Harry was once again assisted by Hermione, who was shocked to then discover not only Madam Pomfrey, but Professor McGonagall and a third woman she had never seen before: this woman looked like someone important as she bore the Ministry crest upon her robe; she had dark blonde hair and an almost apathetic expression on her face that seemed to shift to a look of worry when she saw Harry. Her eyes were a light shade of blue and, as she looked to Hermione, the young witch noticed a look of sorrow and a sense of guilt in the woman's eyes.
"Who are you?" asked Dan, noticing the look on his daughter's face.
"Calm yourself Mr Granger," Professor McGonagall spoke up, "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts: you may remember me from when I told your daughter she was a witch."
"I remember you," Dan remarked, a part of him sounding like he regretted letting this woman through the door all those years ago.
"With me," continued McGonagall, "Are Poppy Pomfrey, the mediwitch at the school and this is Madam Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; she is here at a report from one of our people that Mr Potter there was involved in an incident at King's Cross."
"An incident?" asked Emma, watching as her husband opened the door to their house, "Is that what you'd call it McGonagall? Because let me tell you: had Harry not been the brave man that we hear so much about from our daughter, my husband could have been seriously injured."
"What is she talking about Mr Potter?" asked McGonagall, watching as Hermione gently lay the boy down on the sofa, before proceeding to remove his shirt.
"No," Harry gasped, taking Hermione's hand; looking to the adults, Harry spoke up, "Why don't you ask Professor Dumbledore? I'm sure he knows all about what I endure at Durzkaban, doesn't he? Being the great lord of the sodding light that he is!"
"Mr Potter," McGonagall scolded him, "Kindly refrain from using such language against a respected member of the community."
"Oh of course ma'am," Harry remarked, struggling through his pains as he sat up, his emerald eyes alive with energy as he looked at McGonagall, "Just as long as you kindly explain to me why the wizarding community refrained from helping me escape the Dursleys all those years, or why the respected member you speak of left me in hell and yet, when last we spoke, seemed to do all he could to try and convince me to go back?"
"Harry," Hermione whispered, taking his hands, "Please calm down: you're not there any more and you're not going back there: Mum and Dad won't let you. Now, why don't you want me to take a look at your wound?"
"I think I can answer that one Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey answered, looking to Harry as if seeking permission; when she saw him nod, she continued, "Over the past two years, I have tried suggesting to Mr Potter that he allow me to help heal the many different wounds on his body; when I asked him about them, however, he wouldn't reply. Now, given what we heard from King's Cross, I suggest that you, Mr Potter, swallow your pride and allow me to take a proper look at you instead of using diagnostic charms."
"Only," countered Harry, looking to the three witches, "If you swear never to reveal what I say here without my express permission and, I'm sorry Madam Bones, but that must also include you."
"Of course Sire Potter," Amelia replied, her chosen honorific of Harry making the two Gryffindors remember what Luna had called Harry; until he healed, he would have to postpone his trip to Diagon Alley.
Minerva, as Head of Gryffindor, would always be the first to protect her cubs, but, if Harry was right and he was being harmed at the Dursleys, then she would need to inform Albus. However, the boy was also right in the suggestion that the headmaster had done all he could to change Harry's mind against keeping away from Durzkaban as he called it.
Making up her mind, Minerva chose her loyalty to her cubs over that of her loyalty to Hogwarts and swore her oath, Poppy and Amelia following suit before Harry, with a nod to Hermione, lay back and allowed her to gently remove his shirt, but what they saw beneath the clothes would make the witches glad that they'd sworn their oaths.
Harry's body could only be described as a woven mosaic of bruises, scars and welts, the skin on his right side heavily bruised by his latest escapade, the deep bite mark received from the Basilisk still showing on his arm despite Fawkes' tears. Seeing her boyfriend in such a state had Hermione close to tears, but, when she saw the brave face that Harry bore, it seemed to give her the strength to carry on.
With a smile to Hermione, Harry looked to Madam Pomfrey as he asked, "So what do you want to know?"
Minerva prided herself on being a calm, fair-minded, never-cursing witch, but even she had a limit, "Where the hell did all those come from Potter?"
"Vernon," Harry replied simply, "Petunia and Dudley: the latter used to play this fun game called Harry Hunting where he and his guerrilla friends would hunt me down and kick the shit out of me or until they could run no more. Petunia used to pride herself on throwing things at me whenever I asked questions or spoke about my parents and Vernon considered me his personal punching bag and emotional vent: he used to have this razor-sharp belt buckle that he stoke in the fire and brand my…my…see for yourself."
Fighting through the pain, Harry turned over and revealed a whole web of wounds on his back, some old and slowly healing and some new and just beginning to mend; the one thing they all had in common was the fact that they would be there forever.
"What kind of monsters…" gasped Dan, but then recalled the man he had met at the station and silenced his own question.
"It got worse when I started Hogwarts," Harry replied, "They'd lock my things away and resort to more feverish punishments; at one point, my darling aunt and uncle banded together and did this!" He then pulled down the waistband of his jeans until the adults and Hermione could see the small of his back where the word FREAK was carved into his spine, the messy scrawl of the scars indicating something with barbed wire.
Looking to McGonagall, Dan stood protectively between Harry and the adults as he spoke with a tone most unlike him, "There is no way in hell he leaves this house unless it is to have fun and enjoy himself. If you wish to take him back to that prison, then you will have to kill me to do it because I owe Harry a great debt for what he endured today and, as you would say, as Head of my Family, I repay that debt by accepting this boy as my ward and may your laws be damned because that right starts today."
Amelia was now speaking in response to that, "Sire Potter, do you trust this man?"
"I do ma'am," replied the wounded wizard, "And please ma'am, call me Harry."
"Then you may address me as Amelia," countered the witch, before she pulled out her wand and gently tapped Dan on the head, "As Head of the DMLE," she announced, "I, Amelia Bones hereby allow, accept and personally encourage the guardianship of Sire Harry James Potter to Mr Daniel Granger. Until he is of age, Sire Potter is considered a ward to the Granger Family and under their personal protections, do you agree?"
"I do," Dan replied, aware of a silvery glow enveloping his body as he turned to Harry, "Do you Harry?"
"As long as Hermione is my girlfriend," Harry replied, "I will always consider it a personal pleasure to consider you and Emma as my family."
That was enough for Amelia, but Emma, hearing Harry's words, finally broke down and ran to his side, wrapping her arms around him, being careful not to aggravate his wounds as Minerva gave Madam Pomfrey a direct instruction to do anything and everything she could to rid Harry of his wounds and abrasions.
At that moment, Minerva was wishing that someone else had come to take Harry from Privet Drive all those years ago, even if they had come after Albus and Minerva had left.
It wasn't until she was back in her office that Minerva broke down herself, her mask falling as she looked to the infamous Gryffindor Honour Roll, two particular names adorning the top of the list.
"Lily," she whispered, "James…please forgive me."
HPHG
Within three days, Harry was up and about once again, his wounds healed not only by Madam Pomfrey's healing magic, but also by the constant presence of his loving guardians and the girl of his dreams. Add to that the fact that, on July 31st, he would become Lord of his Family and Harry had a strong feeling that so much was going to change with his third year.
The winds of change were blowing and they were blowing in Harry's favour; every morning, he was up and, even though Dan and Emma told him otherwise, making breakfast for the Grangers before knuckling down to some serious studying with his girlfriend as well as sending the odd letter to his friends.
Then, two days before his birthday, Harry was just finishing off his morning routine when he had a distinct impression that he was being watched; discarding the now-washed plates and bowls into the cupboards, Harry walked towards the front door and pulled it open, his eyes exploring the street where the Grangers' house was situated. First, he looked around and then, as he was about to pull his head back in, a low, almost pitying whine came from across the road; stepping out of the house, but keeping the door open in case of danger, Harry peered into a selection of bushes opposite the house and, as his eyes adjusted to the foliage, he gasped.
Staring back at him were a pair of golden-coloured eyes that were attached to a shaggy black furry head and body; as Harry looked, the rest of the body emerged from the foliage and a large black dog walked across the road and sat in front of Harry, his tongue lolled from his mouth as he seemed to be happy to see the young wizard.
"Hello there boy," Harry smiled, reaching out and petting the dog, earning another whine, though this one of contentment as the dog nuzzled its head against Harry's gentle hand. "Are you lost?"
"Harry?"
Looking back, Harry saw Dan watching him with a smile, before the male Granger gestured to the animal that Harry was petting, "Who's that?"
"I don't know," Harry replied, now running his hand along the dog's neckline, "But he hasn't got a collar and he just came up to me; I think he's a stray. Say Dan, do you think I could…I mean, if you don't…"
"Do you want to keep him?" asked Dan, smiling as he saw how well, and how happy the presence of the canine made Harry feel; it was like the dog was an old friend and a part of Harry had been permanently healed by the animal.
"Yes please," Harry replied, the dog barking happily as Harry felt Dan's hand on his shoulder, a smile on the face of his guardian.
"He's your responsibility then," Dan informed him.
"Of course."
"He'll need a wash."
"I know," laughed Harry, watching as his new pet seemed to stand at his side, a sense of loyalty linking them, "Besides, there's something about him that I like: he could be a magical animal."
"Could be," Dan agreed, "Now, what are you going to call him?"
Harry gave the dog a full examination, as if trying to find inspiration for a name; when he saw the sharp, protective claws and the large, padded feet, he asked, "Well…what about…Padfoot?"
"Padfoot?" asked Dan, "Why that?"
"I don't know," Harry remarked, "But something about him makes me think of my Dad and, when I think of Dad, all I can think about is that name."
"I see," Dan replied, knowing that, if anything made Harry think of his Father, then it was just another reason to keep the warrior within happy. "Okay then, Padfoot it is."
The dog, now Padfoot, barked happily again and licked Harry's face, before he led his new pet inside for a well-needed bath; if he was afraid that Hermione and Emma wouldn't like the dog, Harry found that his fears were grounded as Hermione found Padfoot to be good for protections and Emma, despite being more of a cat person, found him to be a perfect companion for Harry.
After all, dog's were man's best friend and Harry, with that blackness in him, was definitely a man!
Padfoot was here to stay, but, while Harry and the others all loved him for the dog that he was, the real being within Padfoot felt a sense of elation and a strong duty to protect his master.
Or should that be…his pup…
Chapter 3 and Harry has met Padfoot and gained a new family and a new friend, but can the being beneath the fur keep his identity a secret?
Also, with his coming of age approaching, can Harry adjust to the surprises that await him?
Keep Reading to Find Out…
In the next chapter: A few surprises are revealed on Harry's 13th birthday; Gringotts reveals the reason behind Fawkes' visit and Harry and Hermione discover a few new abilities in their magical repertoire…