Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Magical Maturity	By : Jim_Ohki Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 46214 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other series referenced within. Expanded disclaimer inside.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Disclaimer: I make no claims at ownership of any copyrighted characters, places or events used herein. The only thing I make a claim to is this fic, which originated in my head and any original characters created by me herein. The following was made for public consumption at zero profit, and is not for sale except to the owning companies. Yes, I dream big.

Story is not for Dumbledore, Molly, Percy, Ron, nor Ginny fans. There, it’s bold and italicized so flamers will be used in preparation of my next meal, especially if they didn’t read that. No, that’s not a typo.

Magical Maturity, Arc One Part One

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

The story of Harry Potter was well known to the Wizarding public. From his unexplainable defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort at the tender age of fifteen months to his recent reintroduction to magic and his subsequent defeat of the wraith-form of the same Dark Wizard and his Shade in the ever elusive Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore had not lied when he told young Harry that as a secret the whole Castle knew of the events surrounding the Sorcerer’s/Philosopher’s Stone. What he failed to mention was that those very children talked to their parents, spreading the word that he had risked his life to prevent the rise of another Dark Lord. It had taken very little input of the part of the Headmaster to point everything at Quirinus Quirrell going dark rather than being possessed by whatever passed for a soul of Voldemort. The Diary wasn’t as easy to pass off as a second person going Dark as it would have affected one of the devout Light families. It had taken some spinning of the tale to get the focus away from Ginny Weasley and onto the Basilisk instead.

Two years within the halls of Hogwarts, two years of mortal peril for young Potter. The Wizarding World was in for a shock, however. And thus begins our story . . .

July 30, 1993, Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

“I really don’t feel so good,” declared the smallest resident. The years of being underfed and general abuse by his relatives –he’d rather die than call them ‘family’- had taken their toll upon his body. Extremely underweight; under-height and with the vision of a bat without his glasses Harry Potter did one of the few chores that he found some solace in: weeding the garden. He found that the tranquility of tending it was as close to an escape as he could get from his housemates. Especially when adding in the insanely hot temperatures. He didn’t care if it was measured in Fahrenheit or Celsius, either way it felt like it was about a thousand degrees in the shade forget being exposed to the sun. In truth, it was closer to an even hundred Fahrenheit with a maxed out hundred percent humidity yet no signs of rain to be seen in any direction.

The extreme heat index outdoors guaranteed that Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were inside enjoying the air conditioning while he slaved away in the garden. Harry’s owl, Hedwig, was sound asleep in the oven that was the second bedroom as sometime during the school term Vernon decided to seal off the vents, allowing zero airflow from either the furnace in the winter or the blessed air conditioner in the summer.

Under the pretext of watering the plants and softening the soil he drank rather greedily from the hose pipe, making a point to keep his back to the house so if on the off-chance that anybody looked outside all that they would see would be water falling to the ground. Yet the water, which worked wonders for his thirst, did not make the queasiness go away. Glancing in the general direction of the sun, he estimated that there was but an hour or two of daylight left and decided to abandon his task for the day.

He took great care and diligence to clean -in the case of the trowel and soil claw sharpen- the tools he had been using before returning them and the hose to the shed. Before venturing into the building he had made certain that Vernon nor Dudley were laying in wait for a lapse of awareness to lock him in, as they had taken great delight in doing in the past.

After making certain his person was as clean as could be, he ventured indoors to be greeted by the puce-colored face of his oh so loving Uncle.

“Boy, what are you doing?” he demanded, hands already balled into fists and looking for any “good” reason to begin what was a well-deserved beating.

The response was not as expected. Instead of a quiet response accompanied by resignation to the situation and potential waffling hoping to avoid said beating, Harry temporarily lost control of his magic from a sudden surge. The Dursley’s would swear that it was electricity that was lancing from “the freak”, using every available extremity as an outlet. Even the individual hair follicles on his head were sending out the tendrils of magic made manifest, racing upwards in a bizarre light-show. The light bulbs overhead exploded rather spectacularly when the tendrils made contact, as did the television that was kept in the kitchen for Dudley.

As quick as it started, the show that would impress –and worry- Albus Dumbledore stopped. Vernon, having been the closest living being to the walking power plant that was Harry looked the part of having stuck his finger in an outlet. The thicker hairs on his head stood up while the finer ones were burned off, leaving a puffed mustache, smoking dome and no eyebrows.

“I don’t feel so good,” the youth finally deadpanned, after taking in the wanton destruction. There was still the occasional piece of glass hitting the floor, breaking the silence. Harry took this as his cue to head up to his room, knowing that when his ‘family’ came out of their shock there would be hell to pay.

Upon entering his room, and hearing the articulate roar of rage downstairs, he paused at finding a House-Elf perched on his bed. Shutting the door, his magic lashed out again tripping then melting the locks making it impossible for them to be opened. This happened just in time for the door starting shaking from the impacts of the out of control Vernon.

“Harry Potter sir,” greeted Dobby, launching himself from the bed to the young wizard’s legs. “Dobby felt Harry Potter sir’s magic, Dobby has come!”

“Now’s not a great time,” he tried to soothe the hyperactive creature attached to his lower half. “I’m not feeling my best and am going to sleep.”

“Dobby understands Harry Potter sir,” replied the Elf, “but that is why Dobby is here. Master Harry Potter sir is maturing too soon! Maturity not supposed to happen until seventeen!”

“What are you talking about?” Harry quasi-glared at his wayward friend, sitting down on his bed. “Nobody ever mentioned a maturity to me.”

“Dobby only knows of it because of seeing it young Master,” the smaller of the two answered while climbing onto the same chair he had the year previous. “Wizards core grows likes their body, from fourteenth year to seventeenth, with a last great surge in sixteenth year Harry Potter Sir. It beings a sign of Adulthood. Is supposed to happen likes life growing: slowly. Master Harry Potter sir’s core is trying to grow too fast, likes its being blocked.”

Here was yet another wonderful piece of information that people had apparently felt he could do without. He was well aware of the concept of puberty and understood what the Elf with abnormally large eyes was trying to tell him –even if it was abstract in the extreme. The part about a blockage wasn’t entirely surprising, given everything else that had happened in the last two years. It explained his recent difficulties with his control, something that hadn’t happened since beginning his magical education. Having a sudden bout of inspiration from that train of thought, he pulled the loose floorboard up and extracted his wand.

The moment he made contact with it, there was another massive surge. His magic took on a life of its own, first by completely sealing the room then inducing a coma-like state. Once Harry was out, his body levitated to his bed where it came to rest with him on his back and his arms crossed over his chest. From there it sought out the other two occupants of the room and induced magical comas before settling them next to his body. The tendrils of power appeared again, this time seeking out the sole lamp and the few power outlets. Once the connections were established, the power within Harry folded back upon itself before pulsing outwards three times.

From space, looking down upon the London suburbs, domes of energy could be seen racing around the world. The first pulse demolished the core blocks and any foreign magic tied into said core. The second hijacked the wards of Number Four making it Unplottable and tweaking the Blood Ward into a Blood Fidelius, erasing knowledge of the house from the memories of all except for the residents. The third and final pulse modified the memories of the entire Wizarding world. They could recall that Harry Potter stopped the Dark Lord on October 31, 1981. Everything beyond that, including his first two years at Hogwarts, was locked away.

September 1, 1993 Hogwarts Express en route to Hogsmeade

“Another year, another DADA professor,” grumbled Hermione Granger, not liking the fact that there was no consistency in the school. The sole occupant of the compartment slumbered on, unaware of her rumbling as the full moon was two days previous. Her anger also stemmed from the fact that Ron Weasley was being a foul git, starting at the end of July. They’d been having conversations about . . . somebody . . . and the odd desire to get him away from his abusive relatives whomever they were when his entire attitude changed. He started boasting about “his” accomplishments first and second year, defending the school from Dark Wizards, Basilisks and Frauds.

She knew better, however. There was a vague recollection of a boy with a raven’s nest for hair, emerald green eyes and a lightning bolt scar. Trusting her instincts, she knew that he was the one to do the things that Ron was currently recapping to some first years three compartments away, generating awe and respect as his stories became more outlandish. Somewhere along the way First Year included a Chimera and a Hungarian Horntail while Second revolved around wandless magic.

Feh, wandless indeed. He just didn’t want to admit to breaking his wand before the start of the term, the berk.

If it had just been some boasting and ego inflation, she could have let it slide. Sometime in August, however, his attitude towards her had completely changed. He started insisting that she owed him a Life Debt for saving her from the troll and had to repay it as he saw fit to which he dropped his drawers. That part of the memory was the only thing she could laugh at, as his block and tackle left a lot to be desired. Having done the odd babysitting duty for relatives, she was aware of a couple of her cousins that were bigger than him from having to change nappies.

Ron’s behavior had gotten to the point that before storming out of the Burrow, for good as she later learned from a Howler from Molly Weasley, she loudly stated that fact to the present members of the family; she had not been impressed by the latest row, and after the uber-insult to her youngest boy declared her persona-non-grata to the family while proving that even the Light families have blood prejudice. That dreadful word that had ruined a friendship in the past generation had done it again, embittering Hermione to any of the “purebloods”. If that wasn’t enough to do it, being called every female slander this side of the Pond was more than enough motivation to sever her ties with that family.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was loving life. Since he had larger fish to fry than worry about a nonexistent rival, he set himself to the task of solidifying his hold in Slytherin. He had caught wind of the fallout between Weasley and Granger, thanks in part to Mother Weasley running off at the mouth in Diagon Alley. He’d have time to gloat later, right now he was making his way up and down the train bullying the first years that dared to cross his path.

The entire year was normal for once, with the glaring exception of a competent Defense professor. There had been rumblings from the Gryffindor Quidditch team when they realized that they didn’t have a Seeker this year and for the life of them couldn’t remember who had been for the previous two.

At the Leaving Feast did things get exciting again. Hermione and Neville Longbottom, the outcasts of Gryffindor thanks to Ron and his vindictive streak, were seated at the end closest to the doors. Even the twins Fred and George had left them alone, on threat of expulsion from the family if Molly caught wind of even pranking “the bitch”. The two were in a conversation about summer plans when the hairs on her neck stood up, causing her head to follow.

“What is it?” wondered the Longbottom Heir, his own internal warning system going off.

“I don’t-” was all she got out before looking out the massive windows behind the staff table that overlooked the southern forest in her quest to find the source of the distraction. Traveling at them at a high rate of speed was a shockwave comprised of pure magical power. Thinking quickly, she shoved the boy under the table before screaming out, “PROTEGO!”

Her actions stopped all conversations in the Great Hall, for even though she was now labeled as an outcast the populace knew she was level-headed. Following her line of sight, the students and staff were quick to copy her motions just as the wave hit the castle. Every window imploded, raining a large amount of glass down on their heads. Those that couldn’t generate shields –mostly by age but a few caught unawares- had taken shelter under the tables.

In the Dark Forests of Albania, a Shade momentarily flickered in and out of existence before a name whispered through the trees like a soft wind, yet completely and totally sinister in delivery.

“Harry Potter . . .”

July 30, 1994 Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging (Thirty-one days since end of term)

“Wow that was a good nap!” was the first thing to be vocalized by Harry Potter as he stretched, groaning in delight as various joints popped. Hearing a faint woof-bark, he spied his faithful familiar Hedwig out of her cage seeming imitating the stretches. Having paused to take in the antics of the owl, he heard more pops and grunts from his right.

“Harry Potter Sir, Dobby is happy that yous be feelings better,” said the excitable elf while bending his neck left and right. “Dobby agrees with Master Harry Potter, best’s sleep Dobby has had in many years.”

“Dobby, I’m not your Master,” was the instant rebuke, before feeling something different with his magic. He could swear that he could feel a ‘status’ of Dobby lurking in the back of his mind, informing him of the little elf’s health, location, and mood. “Huh, do you feel that?”

The House-Elf paused in his version of stretches which included wagging his large ears to tilt his head to the right as if in deep contemplation. Then his eyes widened, not in horror as Harry could instinctively feel, but rather in absolute joy before he wrapped what he could of his arms around his Wizard and squeezing for all he was worth.

“Dobby does, Master Harry Potter!” was the excited exclamation occurring in tandem with a House-Elf Power Hug. Which considering Harry had been subjected to something similar from his Half-Giant friend Hagrid meant that it was not causing ribs to creak in protest. “We’s be Bonded properly! Dobby is so happy, yes he is!”

While this was going on, Hedwig took note of the fact that the Familiar Bond she’d already had with her Master and Friend had been strengthened beyond anything she was aware of. Her own mother, her clutch and then the other owls at the Menagerie had told her of the joys being a Familiar could bring. What she felt now was a total and complete connection, going far deeper than any other of her kind before. Letting loose with a string of woofs, barks, and ‘kuk-kuk-kuk’s’ got the attention of the duo now seated on the bed, before she ‘felt’ –for lack of a better term- the absolute joy radiate from her Master.

“Yes Hedwig, I feel you too,” he said with reverence and awe, his own eyes widening in happiness. “And I can partially understand your version of speech! This is brilliant!”

Then the door shook rather violently, reminding the trio that they were in potentially hostile territory. Harry had yet to notice that his wand was no longer in his hand, instead he reacted on instinct and waved his hand at the door vanishing the melted locks.

“Ruddy freak, what the devil have you done to our house?!” demanded Vernon upon gaining entry, shotgun in hand. Other than the accessory that was far from legal in Britain, he looked about as normal as he could.

“What are you on about Uncle?” wondered Harry, bewildered at the excessive reaction he had garnered from the large man and why he looked like one of the deranged people that he loved to complain about.

“What am I-?! Idiot boy!” spluttered the elder Dursley male. “First you trash the entire ground floor, then you blow the power grid in the entire city, then you managed to hide my house with that freakishness to the point that I can’t get any repairmen here! It’s taken me all year to fix just the lights in the kitchen! If there’s one bright spot on the whole ordeal, I’ve been able to go to work even if I had to get a bloody Box for the mail!”

“A year?!” was the only thing Harry latched on to, having been used to the tirades of the Dursley’s as a whole and filtering out their voices. “What the bloody hell do you mean a year Dursley?!”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy!” was roared back accompanied by the shotgun lifting just a bit higher. “One year to the day since you whined like the impudent child you are about ‘not feeling good’! I’ve about lost my mind, my job, my sister . . . everything normal! Ruddy freaks and their freakishness damn near killed me! Well, soon you will be dead and this nightmare will end!”

Tucking the butt of the gun under his right arm, Vernon sighted Harry’s head and was about to pull the trigger when the boy became a blur of motion.

Harry himself didn’t know what came over himself at that point, just that his magic responded to his gestures firing off a Stupefy and an Incarcerus from his left hand while an Expelliarmus and Petrificus Totalus flew from his right. The four spells hit nearly simultaneously, sending the overly large man flying down the hallway Stunned, Disarmed, Bound and temporarily Petrified to crash into the wall at the far end, head imbedded into the cheesy wallpaper. Looking around in surprise, he spied the window and thought nothing was amiss as he could see the neighborhood beyond in the evening light.

“To hell with you morons,” rumbled Harry after a few moments of thought as another instinctive wave of his hands had his possessions packed then the loaded trunk shrunk to be pocket sized before sending Dobby and Hedwig out of the house. On his way to the front door he encountered Petunia, which he took advantage of to say one last thing to his last known blood relative. “I have never, and will never, consider this place to be home. As I live and breathe, as the magic granted me by my ancestors flows through my veins, I cast the last relation of the Evans line away. So say I, Harry James of the Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, so mote it be!”

A wave of magic poured forth, wiping the Wards out of existence. The neighbors that happened to be looking in the direction of the odd empty lot found themselves blinking owlishly as a house materialized from nowhere before their memories of one of the occupants was restored. They watched, utterly fascinated, as the miscreant Potter boy charged out the front door before heading in the direction of the Park near Magnolia Crescent.

“Run away freak! You are no longer welcome in this home!” Petunia shrieked, having run outside before realizing that her house was visible to the outside world for the first time in a year. To her dismay, several neighbors were watching the drama unfold, having nothing better to do.

Harry had situational awareness not normally seen in Wizard-kind. He was more than aware of the neighbors gawking as he exited the house, thus leading him to look for some place quiet and deserted before summoning the Knight Bus. He needed time to think, for there was so much going on that he was becoming aware of. One of his major thoughts, which became a strong desire, was to get to Gringotts to get the true sum of his holdings. As he ventured behind a tall hedgerow he felt his magic respond to said desire.

One step he was in Little Whinging, the next he was at the Apparation Point in Diagon Alley. Not breaking stride he stormed down the Alley, the people out and about shopping in the evening hour scattering like rats at his approach. The doors to Gringotts opened on their own, surprising the Goblins on guard duty and those that had been looking in that general direction before a literal powerhouse walked in.

Same Day, The Burrow, Ottery Saint Catchpole, Devonshire

“We are so screwed,” whimpered Ron to the gathered Weasley’s. With the exception of Bill and Charlie, the entire household had gathered around the dinner table to discuss the sudden resurgence of memories regarding one Harry Potter. The comment from the youngest son was in regards to what would happen when said Potter found out what he had been up to.

“Your own fault,” said the Twins at the same time, looking grim. “We left well enough alone, even after you alienated Hermione.”

“Don’t you speak that name in this house!” thundered Molly, before glancing around looking for said person to pop out of the woodwork.

“No Molly,” came from Arthur, looking every bit disappointed in his family. To him, they meant everything and their behavior over the past year was utterly unacceptable. “You have as much to be worried about as Ronald. We are talking about the boy that defeated one of the darkest Wizards in history at the age of fifteen months. I have a feeling . . .”

“What kind of feeling?” asked Percy, his demeanor neutral. On the inside, however, his thoughts were moving at Portkey speeds looking for an angle to attack this problem from. The only reason he was here instead of his new flat was pressure from Penelope to visit his family. He’d made a decision in regard to giving her the boot as soon as he returned home in thanks for getting him involved in this mess.

“Let’s look at the facts,” answered his father, leaning back in his chair. “All of us lost our memories of him. He was not seen at Hogwarts this year. Our memories come back, the day before his birthday. At the same time, we are now aware that we lost those memories exactly one year ago.”

“It sounds like a Maturity,” was the immediate conclusion that came from Ginny. When all eyes fell upon her person, she blushed before mumbling, “That Diary taught me a thing or two.”

The silence became awkward after that statement, for it was the first time the youngest of the brood had talked about the Diary at all. The parents frowned deeply, wondering what else the being once known as Tom Riddle had dumped into her brain. Percy and the Twins had paled, being reminded that the subject of the previous discussion was the reason their sister was still alive.

“What the devil are you talking about?” was the unthinking Ron’s response, ignoring the whole Diary issue because it tied into the fact that when Harry learned of his actions over the past year he knew there would be hell to pay. He was smart enough to hold no illusions that Hermione would talk about what he’d done.

“Every magical goes through a Maturity, males and females. It’s not supposed to end until the age of seventeen, which is where the term Age of Majority came from. It begins at the age of fourteen to reduce sudden surges from the Core to prevent damages to the body,” lectured Arthur to his four youngest, still reclined in his chair. “However, there are documented cases of sudden Maturities. One such case, which applies to Harry, is that he is the last of his House. Usually, that only bumps the Age to fifteen. He’s to turn fourteen tomorrow, which implies the other documented cases which are of Blocks and Bindings on his Core. The memory loss is documented in both examples in regards to just how much power a Magical has. No-one, and I mean no-one, has gone beyond three months before. The fact that it’s been a year . . . without a doubt, Harry is stronger than even Dumbledore. If this issue hadn’t arisen, your Mother and myself would have taught you more about this nearer your seventeenth birthday to explain any of the last minute surges that occur just as we did with Bill, Charlie and Percy.”

The rest of the Weasley family looked utterly stupefied at that point, having been lost after the comment about being stronger than Dumbledore. Then Arthur had to add another little tidbit.

“So yes, when he learns of your actions we are, as you so eloquently put it, screwed.”

Gringotts Bank, Director Ragnok’s office

“Time is money Master Ragnok,” said Harry as he bowed, getting straight to the point. “I wish to know my holdings within this Grand Institution, and perform a Heritage Ritual to know where I came from in the familial sense.”

The Elder Goblin seated on the other side of the massive mahogany desk simply nodded in approval of the Wizard in front of him. This one treated Goblins exactly how they wanted to be treated, as in not dawdling with pleasantries nor flinging about insults. Profit, Honor, Dignity was their philosophy after all in that order. He could sense that the youngling seated opposite had undergone a Maturity recently, which was why he was allowed the privilege of an Audience with the Director.

“We shall begin immediately,” was the raspy response after a few moments of contemplation. Potter was one of the higher-end accounts after all, and for it to be active again meant Profits aplenty for the Goblin Nation.

Harry waited for the Director to stand before doing so himself, following the male Goblin through a side door silently. His mind, however, was running amok trying to understand where all of this new information and etiquette came from. It felt like home in a sense, stemming from his magic which led him to believe that it was ancient Family Magic at work. He’d only seen a few references in the Hogwarts Library in passing but never followed it up since nobody bothered to inform him of his families past. He used the plural due to nobody speaking up on behalf of his Mother beyond his eye color to date and he’d be damned if he ever spoke to, let alone asked, Petunia about her side of the family.

The silent duo walked through several corridors before entering a large cavern-type room. This room was different in that every available surface was covered in what appeared to be Runes of all types. In the center was a pedestal that held a basin and a ceremonial silver knife.

“This Heritage Ritual is different from the Ritual of Birth for Family Magic. Here, all you need to do is let blood flow into the basin and the magic will do the rest. Once the appropriate amount has been let, the wound will be healed by the ambient magic,” explained Ragnok as he gestured forward.

Harry didn’t pause in his walking, moving with purpose to said basin. Picking up the knife with his left hand, his sliced the palm of his right then held the now bleeding hand over the center of it. Looking down revealed a potion filling half of the stone bowl, which started swirling with colors as his blood slowly dripped into it. He was surprised by the fact that half a minute passed before he felt the skin of his hand stitching itself back together, which he took as his cue to examine it for scarring. Seeing none, he looked up at the far wall to see many of, what he first thought to be Runes, glowing either Gold or Silver. Now that they stood out against the others, he could plainly see that they were in fact Coat-of-Arms and Family Crests.

Ragnok felt his eyes widen in surprise as the room lit up like one of the Great Furnaces in the Catacombs. There was so much Gold coloring about that it danced like flame, while the Silver acted like the base of said flame. He’d lived a long, four-hundred year plus life and had never seen anything close to this before.

The neck of the pedestal made several noises that sounded suspiciously like a dot-matrix printer before spitting out ten feet worth of parchment at Harry’s feet. As it was landing it retained its rolled shape becoming a scroll of all things. Reaching down, he picked it up and walked back to the Goblin Lord that had accompanied him into the room.

Again the duo were silent on the trek back to the Director’s office, which seemed to involve less corridors and turns this time around. Apparently there was a lot of Profit to be had on this day, and Ragnok was as anxious as a Goblin could be to get started.

Upon entering the office, Harry handed the scroll over before returning to his chair. He waited for Ragnok to be seated before doing so himself, then relaxed into the plush leather and waited to be addressed.

“Oh what a Glorious Day!” Ragnok finally barked, eyes alight with the potential held in his hands. Some of these Vaults had been idle for millennia, even those that held little gold while others that were fuller had been collecting dust for the last decade or so. Feeding the parchment into a slot on his desk, various books and portfolios of all things began appearing at random. Several times other Goblins would venture into the domain of their Liege with another book –or several- in hand, effectively burying the desk and blocking the view between Harry and Ragnok.

That view was restored in quick order as everything compressed into a single book once the last was delivered. The cover opened slightly before literally coughing up a summary sheet. This garnered a raised eyebrow from Harry but no verbal response. He did spy the ornate box that had appeared, which looked to be twenty-by-twenty-by-eight centimeters total. Of course, with magic involved, the interior space could be comparable to the Great Hall at Hogwarts for all he knew.

“My Liege,” began Ragnok, effectively bringing most of his brain processes to a halt, “this is a great day for both yourself and the Nation. Here is the summary parchment of your Vaulted holdings and property’s. This box contains the Signet Rings and Heir Apparent Rings of the Families you either directly control or are Heir to. This book has more detailed information, and is also the new Potter Family Grimiore. In it is the histories of the families and the secrets contained within the Family Magic’s. Is there anything else you’d prefer to accomplish today?”

“Only to assign an Account Manager,” answered Harry on autopilot, his mind not completely rebooted yet. “I am unaware if Treaty limits Profits for the Nation; in that regard I’d like it if either yourself or Gripsack would bestow upon my House the honor of being Account Manager. If there’s no Treaty limit, whomever it is gets free rein with forty percent of the Gold to invest aggressively and gets to retain ten percent of the returns.”

“I like you, Wizard,” was the immediate response. “Yes, there is a Treaty Limit set at five percent of returns. However, since you’ve stipulated forty-percent of your capitol for investing, that five percent would make the Ministry for Magic budget for the next decade every business week. I must decline myself, as Treaty also forbids the Director from having direct influence over the clients. Gripsack, on the other hand, is available.”

“Offer it to him, and on the way off chance that he declines select a Goblin that you trust the most. It would be bad for business if certain parties could get their hands on my gold,” Harry said as he stood, pocketing the book, parchment and box. “That concludes our transaction for today. May your Gold forever increase and your enemies flee in terror.”

“May your life be long and your enemies delicious when served at your table,” Ragnok replied while bowing ever so slightly. It was refreshing to have a wizard, regardless of name, treat a Goblin in the exact way they wanted.

Harry wasted little time getting from Gringotts to the Leaky Cauldron. Night was moments away, and the denizens of Knockturn Alley were lurking closer to the intersection with Diagon than they did in the day. Getting a room from Tom the barkeep, number eleven, he went there with his dinner order of Sheppard’s Pie and chips with two bottles of Butterbeer to wash it down.

Having gotten his gullet stuffed, he pulled out the summary parchment and began to read. He’d not done this in Gringotts for one it was rude, and two he would probably wind up insulting the Liege-Lord of the Goblins questioning their accuracy.

SUMMARY OF HOLDINGS AND FAMILY TIES

Person Tested:

Name: Harry James Potter

Age: Thirteen (As of day of Heritage Ritual)

Magical Status: Adult-Unlimited/Unrestricted

Magical Power (Scale 1-1000): UNKNOWN-Power readings greater than top of scale.

Abilities:

Natural Occlumens, Natural Legillimens, Natural Mage, Natural Empath, Natural Animagus, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural UNKNOWN, Natural (Conquest) Parselmouth, Artificial Soul Anchor

Head of:

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Emrys-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Gryffindor-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Peverell-BIRTHRIGHT

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Ravenclaw-Ancestral Will Appointee

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Hufflepuff-Ancestral Will Appointee

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Slytherin-RITE OF CONQUEST

Most Noble and Most Ancient House of Black-WILL APPOINTEE

Most Noble and Ancient House of Bones-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and Bones (Lord James/Lord Edgar)

Most Noble and Ancient House of McKinnon-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and McKinnon (Lord James/Lord Patrick)

Most Noble and Ancient House of Jones-WILL APPOINTEE-Patriarchal Family-PACT Between Houses Potter and Jones (Lord James/Lord Roger)

Most Noble and Ancient House of Lovegood-WILL APPOINTEE-Matriarchal Family-Vassal Pact Between Houses Potter and Lovegood (Lady Lily/Lady Celestine)-CONTROL REVERTS TO DAUGHTER OF LOVEGOOD UPON MATURITY

The list of families just kept going. Making a decision while on a loo break to skim that section for now as he needed to read the wills, he looked into what monies he had available.

Vaulted Holdings:

Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter:

Vault numbers: 2; 7; 27; 43; 76; 83; 294; 687

Cash-on-hand (combined):

876,432,098,654 Galleons

7,765,321 Sickles

4,123,098 Knuts

Numerous twenty gallon barrels full of precious gems.

487,293 Trunks

870,583,468 Book/Scroll Collections

Investments/Commercial Properties (Combined; Magical/Mundane)

Diagon Alley-Land built upon (minus Gringotts Territory)-Full

Knockturn Alley-Land built upon-Full

Flourish and Blotts: Forty-two percent

Slug and Juggers: Eighteen percent

The Quibbler Magazine: Fifty-one percent

The Three Broomsticks: Twenty percent

Honeyduke’s: Eighty percent

British Petroleum: Five percent

Airbus: Thirty percent

Boeing: Ten percent

Microsoft: Thirteen percent

Just getting to that point Harry felt his eyes were trying to vacate their sockets. It was strange, he knew, but for some reason if felt right that he owned the very land the Alley’s were built upon and wondered why nobody had questioned just where the turf they occupied came from. He had a hunch that somewhere along the line, the Ministry boasted some-such nonsense about them owning it thus pilfering the taxes that rightly belonged to him. That, he was going to have to allow to continue for the time being as he had no clue about investments and/or going after those that weren’t paying up like they were supposed to or straight stealing from him.

Stealing; that word brought forth a sense of total betrayal and anger in regards to certain individuals in his life. He was not totally surprised by the old Vault access list, which was now invalid after his little jaunt through Goblin Country.

No, it was the fact that he was generous and would help any that asked for it yet those that just took he equated to the Dursley’s. It was one thing to be generous himself, but to take it without his knowledge or permission when he’d originally had nothing? Unacceptable.

Dumbledore, or ThimbleDick –one of a plethora of names- as his mind now named him, wasn’t that big a shock. After all, the man had a blunt agenda which he called “The Greater Good”. While the end-goal wasn’t known, as in who would rule, the rest of it was straight forward in that there would be a utopia for Magicals everywhere without fear of the Dark or Mundane. Of course, this was overlooking the old adage that without Dark there can be no Light. And there was absolutely no way that the Mundane’s of the world would take their actions laying down nor would they go quietly into the night.

Molly Weasley: all right, part of him could understand why she pilfered a few hundred Galleons here and there. She didn’t go overboard like ole ThimbleDick and siphon off millions. She did have a rather large family to care for, and Arthur’s salary apparently wasn’t enough to cover it all. If she had asked, no problem. Since she didn’t, and he would have to see if she brought it up once he saw her again, then not a chance.

Ron: now that was infuriating. All Ron had to do was open his mouth for something other than idiotic comments or food and just like his mother Harry would have helped. But, again, he didn’t instead choosing to plunder slightly larger amounts than her for his own personal gain. There would be no forgiveness here, none whatsoever.

Ginny: he saves her life and this is how she repays him, by becoming a thief? A small, and slowly awakening, part of his mind saw her potential beauty a few years down the road but with this discovery all chances were gone. The Life Debt owed was going to become an issue unless he used it to protect himself. How he would or even if he could he knew he had to look into.

Percival: oh now that was a total surprise. Who could imagine that Perfect Prefect Percy could stoop so low? It did explain a few things, like how he was able to afford nice things for Penelope let alone the treats for his owl Hermes. As far as Harry knew, he didn’t have a job yet but then again a year makes a lot of difference.

Having thought about it, Harry knew he had enough on Dumbledore and the Weasley’s to declare a Line Feud. The keystone of that being the completely false Will that somehow had his signature on it stating an even divide between Dumbledore and the Weasley’s should he die without issue – that issue being an Heir of his own.

Shaking his head, he continued to read while taking the occasional drink from his Butterbeer. Some of the families listed he’d never heard of, others he was surprised at because he knew children of said families were in Hogwarts. That particular thought brought his other friend to the forefront of his mind. Finding blank parchment, ink pot and quill in his trunk Harry wrote a letter to her.

Crawley

“Harry, what has happened to you?” wondered Hermione as she attempted to do her summer homework. The attempt was rather pointless at the time due to the memories of him returning earlier that evening. Sitting at her desk, just to the left of her window she alternated between thousand yard staring the juniper tree outside into submission or checking her book collection again –and again- for any titles that would leap out to grab her attention.

The massive bookcase to her left, which when combined with the desk created a quasi-office, was filled with magical literature of nearly every type. The only things missing were of the Dark variety, since just about everything in that category was illegal by Ministry standards; not that it stopped the Purebloods. There were a few hard-to-find tomes, dealing in Family Magic and how it came to be. These were older versions and as such not nearly as tainted as what the Ministry peddled to the masses nowadays.

Her thoughts paused at the notion of Family Magic. She, after a fair bit of research, was more than aware that the Potter family was an old one. Therefore Harry had Family Magic already, just waiting for his Maturity . . .

“That’s it!” she nearly shouted, her mind now crunching scenarios faster than an Acromantula runs. Four of the nine books on Family Magic were quickly spread out over the large oak surface of her desk to which she attempted to read them all at the same time. It was the second one, titled Family Magic and Their Origins that she found more information about the Heritage Ritual and to her great surprise, the Ritual for Birth of Family Magic than what was available in the Hogwarts Library. She knew she was a true First Generation, having compiled a family tree the summer after first year to look for any potential Magicals in her lineage. She got sidetracked by the Birthing Ritual for a few moments as it gave, in great detail, just how Family Magic started in a line.

Seeing that she had just over a year to do so, meaning it had to be done on the day of her sixteenth birthday –the time of the last great surge of her own Maturity-, she shelved the worries that the Ritual brought up to continue looking into Harry’s situation. It was then that Hedwig appeared at her window, landing on the sill and tapping on the glass to get her attention.

“Hello girl,” greeted Hermione as she opened the window, to which the owl hopped onto the far right hand corner of the desk that held food and water for just this occasion. After offering her leg, which had a letter attached and it was removed, the Snowy Owl set to feeding after her flight.

Dear Hermione,

Hiya! Yes, not the most articulate of greetings, but that’s me for you. *cheeky grin* Something odd has happened, which I’m becoming more than aware of affected the whole world. It seems I was out of commission for exactly one year undergoing a Maturity much sooner than recorded in History. What this all entails, well I’m still learning myself. What I have found however is that I’m now considered of Age, without restriction. Before you start on checking my facts, I have sitting just to the left of this parchment the results of my Heritage Ritual done at Gringotts a couple of hours ago, and the Status line says just that – Adult, Unlimited/Unrestricted. I’ll let you read it once we can get together. I’m at the Cauldron, room eleven.

Things are not as they seem Hermione. Dumbledore, and a quartet of Weasley’s, have been pilfering gold out of my trust vault. If it weren’t on auto-refill thanks to my Dad I’d be long since broke. Molly I can understand, kind of, in regards to the size of the family she’s taken care of on Arthur’s salary. Percy, Ron and Ginny however have no excuse for this theft and there WILL be a reckoning. It’s the concept, you know, of just taking from somebody that grew up with nothing without asking. You know me, I’d gladly help those that ask.

Speaking of, I really need your help! It looks like many of the Light Families –and a few of questionable alignment- had zero faith in the last War ending in their favor and made various pacts with House Potter. I now find myself in control of MANY families, even some that I know have kids our age at school. Please, come as soon as you can!

Looking forward to seeing you,

Harry

It was far too late to head to the Leaky Cauldron now and Hermione knew it. Deciding that Harry was far more important than homework –a decision that would shock her parents if they knew-, she organized her trunk and began packing. While the next term letters had yet to arrive, she had little doubts about being extra busy with both getting Harry caught up for the year he missed and answering his call for help. Unbidden, the Birthing Ritual resurfaced in her thoughts and she gave a mental nod that, once it was as researched as could be, Harry would be the one to carry it out for her. Her silent vow was too close to literal, resulting in a pulse of magic sealing it. In her distracted state, she was completely unaware of it.

0700 July 31, Leaky Cauldron, Room Eleven

Harry awoke to the rumblings of a passing train, shaking some of the dust out of the rafters and revealing why the rooms had canopy beds. An instinctual, and not completely awake, wave of the hand cleaned the room in an instant. He did note that Hedwig had returned sometime in the night, however he was unaware just how she had gotten in through the closed window.

Leaving well enough alone, he set about the Wizard’s Morning Ritual which was a literal thing. While the Mundane’s called their routine a ritual, for a Magical it entailed more than the morning visit to the loo and shower. First came the flexing and stretching, as it was described, of the magic within. This was done in the loo for a reason as the pulses cleansed the body of the gunk that accumulated in the night. Next came a minor Purification Ritual which took place in the shower. Doing so in the bath was not recommended without filtering of the water due to what was forced out of the skin.

So while he set about getting his morning started, his mind returned to the letter he’d sent the previous evening. He felt bad about asking Hermione for help, even though he hadn’t seen her in a year. He knew that the sabbatical wasn’t his fault nor even his idea, but the feeling remained. Still, it’d be nice to see her again.

Wandering over to his trunk, the thought came to mind that now that he was Dursley free he ought to do some shopping for real clothes and not these whale coverings that doubled as rags. Since it appeared that he was going to be thrust into the political arena he figured he might as well look the part. Glancing out the window into the Alley, he caught sight of a blonde haired girl skipping along without a care in the world. This brought a small smile to his face, looking at what he perceived to be normalcy before spying a couple of early-riser Ravenclaws that he was aware of from his time in Hogwarts approach her.

The smile left his face in an instant when he took note of their positioning, having been in a similar circle himself. Deciding then to do something about the obvious bullying going on he donned a loose set of school robes and flexed his magic. Seeing the perfect billowing effect that he was looking for, he stormed out the door.

“Well if it isn’t Loony Lovegood,” Cho Chang declared with a sing-song, her clique of friends quickly surrounding the younger girl. There were very few adults out and about – those that were, were not fully awake to take in the situation or in a hurry to get where they were going and didn’t rightly care. “Still not a friend to find eh, Loony?”

“Oh please,” came the voice of Marietta Edgecombe, “you give this tosser too much credit Cho. First off, nobody wants her. Secondly, nobody can tolerate her. Thirdly, she’s a complete mental case.”

“Feh, even her mother left her,” chimed in Sara Fawcett, going for the low blow to get a reaction out of the normally dreamy-eyed girl; Sara was following the crowd on this endeavor. While the seven girls laughed, some going so far as to start shoving young Lovegood around, they indeed got a reaction; just not from their target.

“Shove off, the lot of you!” thundered a male voice, causing everybody in the Alley to turn to the speaker. The first thought to go through many minds was that somehow Snape had lost some of his height before the raven’s nest of hair and narrowed emerald green eyes gave away whom was currently charging down the lane.

“What’s it to you, Potter?” Marietta was fearless, having stared down Snape on more than one occasion, or tried to at any rate. This proved to be her undoing when he made a gesture and silenced her.

“No excuses,” he snarled, coming to a stop next to the young girl he had seen earlier. His robes continued to billow even after stopping his movement. “Ravenclaws indeed, smartest of the lot yet I see this. Slytherins have more common sense than you lot, at least they try to do this from the shadows and not get caught. Shove off, and know that she is under the protection of House Potter! I get wind of any of this behavior again, and there will be hell to pay!”

The magic flare that accompanied his statement was enough to send the other ‘Claws running for the Cauldron, to either Floo out or enter London to escape the irate Wizard.

“Why?” was the quiet question posed to Harry after the others had fled, shocking him enough to drop the magic sustaining the billowing robes. He took a long look at her from the corner of his right eye before answering.

“Because I was treated the same way,” he finally murmured, keeping his voice low so that the others in the Alley wouldn’t overhear. “Damned bullies, useless lot they are.” Then he changed topics to something much safer. “So, where are you headed on this lovely morning?”

Luna lost some of her dreamy-expression for a moment, caught completely unawares by her ‘savior’. She knew next to nothing about Harry Potter, and yet here he was saving the damsel in distress as it were without hesitation because it was the right thing to do. Trusting her instincts, and her magic, she decided to open up to him. She was mindful of the Maturity he’d undergone, and knew for a fact that what he had said rang true about being a Protectorate House. Her parents, in the last war, had made a Vassal Pact with House Potter so that if anything happened to either Celestine or Xenophilius Lovegood their crowning achievement – Luna – would be taken in. Ole Xeno knew of the Pact, even though the House he’d married into was of the Matriarchal type. Even though James and Lily had died eight years before Celestine, the Pact was still valid due to Harry being older by roughly a month and a half; she being born September 21, 1980. Having explained to his daughter what her duties as a Vassal, and if he declared it Protectorate, House under the Potter banner were he just had to hope that the boy knew of his responsibilities. Xeno, like many other surviving parents/guardians of the last war, had no idea what had happened to young Harry after that dreadful Halloween night which raised questions about his knowledge of the Families, the Pacts and those whom had no Heir by birth but Willed their Line to the sole Potter.

The odd duo had turned in the direction of Madame Malkin’s, in search of better clothing for Harry. Their trek through the early morning in Diagon was slow as they talked in low tones, not wanting their conversation to be overheard. Luna was pleasantly surprised to learn that yes, Harry did know of the Lovegood Pact and Celestine’s Last Wishes which gave him the duty of being her ‘opener’ on her fifteenth birthday. She had the Lovegood Family Magic in her veins, but in order for it to be unlocked her Core had to be touched by a non-family member Wizard Core. As a safeguard to prevent the Magic from being stolen, Celestine had insured that the Pact had the proviso on Harry being the only one to be able to ‘open’ Luna’s Core.

Luna did have to explain the difference in the Heritage Ritual’s for males and females. While the Wizards could simply saunter into Gringotts or make use of a Ritual Room in their Manor, the Witches had to have their Core ‘opened’ at the time when it was most susceptible to outside interference. To Harry’s great embarrassment, the only method for doing so was sex and hence why a non-family member was required.

Steering away from the fairly heavy and uncomfortable conversation, the duo went shopping. Harry was grateful for the company but had to restrain himself from barking at Luna and her odd wardrobe choices. Once he had the clothes he wanted, at least on this side of the Cauldron, they continued around the Alley browsing and picking up objects at random. Finding the Goldmine Series Fifty Compartment Mobile Apartment Trunk was cool but too excessive for Harry’s tastes –the name stemmed from the price-tag, equal to a goldmine. A simple five compartment worked out perfectly, with the expansion charms that made the inside of each compartment roughly the size of his room at the Cauldron. Finding the furnishings in the next store over led to Wardrobe, Library, Potions, Personal Items and Mini-Vault being the compartments of choice. The whole thing was locked to his blood and magical signature, making it impossible for anyone else to open the trunk. It came with the standardized Feather-Light and Shrinking Charms, although Harry was surprised to learn that the Shrinking Charm could stop at virtually any size from a book to a speck of dust if he so desired. He was glad for that information, and visualized a matchbook then tapped the now full of recent purchases trunk. As advertized, the trunk assumed that size to which he was able to pick it up and pocket it.

“Let’s go grab some grub,” he offered casually, finally taking note that in his rush out the door he had missed breakfast. That thought led to a realization that he had no clue is she had eaten before heading from home.

“Wow, time flies,” Luna said while producing a pocket watch from . . . somewhere, “I’m meeting Daddy in about an hour, so lunch sounds lovely.”

Harry merely gestured in the direction of the Cauldron before beginning to head in that direction. As they walked in silence, he fell into contemplation on the day so far. He had heard whisperings about Luna –to him- last year being round the twist, over the bend and a few bricks short of a castle. Their conversation revealed a much deeper side to her that anybody else bar her father knew about. He was well aware that any conversation with her at Hogwarts would have involved vague creatures and off-hand comments at inappropriate times as her way of keeping people from getting too close. The loss of her mother was still recent and fresh, thus leading her to act the way she did. The public, and her dorm-mates, never knew that she still had night terrors or sudden bouts of depression caused by witnessing Celestine’s death and would for years to come. The only reason he had sussed about the terrors was his own nightmares about That Night.

He was so lost in thought that he never noticed the archway to the Alley nor the backdoor to the Cauldron. A missile with a bushy-haired warhead brought him back to reality though.

“It’s so good to see you, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed into his shoulder, where she had buried her face to hide her tears. This caused her voice to be muffled and was lost in the background noise of the patrons around them; meaning only her target and Luna heard her.

“Have you eaten yet?” he wondered, taking in that today was a busy day as the place was nearly packed. While taking in the surroundings he was overjoyed at being reunited with his best friend, a term he now knew with magic to not throw around lightly. That thought brought up others about the other and now former best friend Ron. Harry knew that Magic itself would be punishing the Ginger for his misdeeds, and it was only going to get worse as time went on until Weasley figured out what was happening and used Parlay to formally break from him. The quirk was that nobody, not even his family nor Head of House, could tell him about the need to have a mutual break of the status.

“Not yet, I just got a room here,” her voice interrupted his thought process. Not that he cared, as thinking about Weasley’s in general right now was aggravating his ire. When she finally looked up from his right shoulder, she was surprised to see Luna standing on that side of him looking awkward at her intrusion of a private moment.

“Let’s get some lunch then and head up to my room,” Harry offered, breaking the slight tension between the two girls. It was not lost on either of them that he was inviting them both up and not favoring one over the other.

Having placed their orders, and being assured by Tom that it would be delivered upstairs, the trio went up to room eleven. Upon entering the room Harry fished his new trunk out and restored it to the original size.

“You’ll get in trouble for that!” Hermione leapt all over the magic usage, not wanting to be separated from him again like the previous year.

“Um, we’re in the midst of a Magic Rich environment,” Luna hinted subtly, even knowing that Harry was considered in the eyes of Magic to be an adult and thus exempt from the Underage laws. To prove her point she used her wand to open the window with a levitation charm, before banishing the Dursley rags not on Harry out said window.

Half an hour went by with no owls bearing Ministry letters, although there were plenty of shouts below from the sudden rain of worn-out clothing. The range of emotions on Hermione’s face included but were not limited to abject fear, confusion, understanding and rage.

“Yes, it’s unfair,” Harry read her face like a book, heading off the rant that was certainly about to commence. “Unless of course we destroy the Ministry Detection Grid which has holes in it for the Magic Rich areas that would otherwise overload it then there’s not a lot we can do about it. Besides, if you think about it, the Underage Laws are about getting the First Generations used to the Secret and keeping it. You know how we children are, we learn something ‘cool’ and we want to show it! While it does offer those in the know an advantage, it also helps us learn discretion and gets us used to the Statute of Secrecy.”

“In other words, if us Muggle-borns were clued in the Purebloods would lose their advantage?” she asked, looking from Harry to Luna and back. She could tell by the look of distaste that had appeared on Harry’s face when she said ‘Muggle-born’ that he didn’t like that term at all. Luna, on the other hand, was smiling slightly instead of verbally answering.

“The inbreeding of the last four hundred years is catching up to them,” he answered, ecstatic that Hermione was using her logic to think and not her emotions. “It’s a statistical fact that First Generations and Half-bloods do not produce Squibs. Purebloods, on the other hand, average four per family. There are obvious . . . exceptions . . . to that fact, but the truth is without fresh, uncontaminated, blood Magic itself would cease to exist. That’s why there are more and more Firsts being born every year, to make up the difference in what the Purebloods are losing.”

“My family is Matriarchal,” Luna chimed in at this point, adding to the conversation. There was something about Harry –or to be precise, his magic- that prevented her backslide into her defensive measures. “Thus, when I was born my parents simply stopped trying for more children. The Weasley’s,” she ignored the sudden scowling of the other two, “are Patriarchal while the Prewitt’s were also Matriarchal hence why they have stopped cranking out the children. Arthur got his Heir with William, Molly finally got hers with Ginerva. Otherwise, in the example of Arthur marrying a Half-blood or a First Generation, he would have put his foot down at one, maybe two children. Charlie, Percival, the Twins and especially Ronald have no hope of inheriting much when Arthur passes on.”

“So is that why he thinks the world owes him something?” Hermione snarled, catching Harry by surprise. While hearing about the very family he didn’t want to think about was an irritant, and their actions towards him even more so, he had no idea what could have brought forth this much vitriol from her.

“Tell me,” was his demand, his face becoming stony at the thoughts running through his mind. While he had demanded it, his voice was surprisingly light for the tone of their conversation. He noticed that their food had arrived, and after making certain the girls had their meals began to eat.

The tale of the previous year at Hogwarts was retold, and Luna’s ‘outsider’ perspective put a spin on things. Harry was immensely proud of Neville for sticking with Hermione at the cost of what little confidence and friendships he had. He was enraged to learn what Ronald had been spouting off at the mouth with. That rage grew when he learned about his actions in the previous summer and Molly’s subsequent persona-non-grata which was a very serious thing in the Magical World. Then the focus shifted over to Luna herself and what the Ravenclaws were doing to her.

“Drat,” Luna suddenly said, having glanced at the ancient clock in the corner to avoid that topic. “I’m running late to meet with Daddy and I’ve gotta go. Will either of you be in the Alley tomorrow?”

“Apparently I’ve got choices on a house or several but I’ll still be here figuring it out,” was Harry’s response while Hermione simply shifted closer to his person by way of answering.

Luna started for the door before turning around and hugging the both of them. With a bounce in her step she was gone, leaving the pair alone. Not wasting any time, Harry promptly produced the Summary parchment for her to read at her leisure while finishing her lunch. As she read, and had the ever-present threat of her eyes leaving their sockets, he moved his Hogwarts supplies from his old trunk to the new one.

“Are the Goblins certain this is correct?” she finally questioned, looking up only to find Harry engaged in her favorite pastime – reading. She saw the title, Standard Book of Spells – Grade Four, and had to wonder why he wasn’t looking into the third year material.

“First, they are always correct in these matters due to Treaty,” he answered after marking his place with a quill. “Second, to answer the question on your mind there is a precedent for sudden Maturities that interrupt education, automatically passing those for their time missed with Exceeds Expectations. Since I was out all year, that should mean I got all EE’s. That does not mean, however, that I know the material. Yes, this may come back to haunt me but studying the third year syllabus is, personally, a waste of time. Not to mention that you’ve seen Luna and myself performing magic’s above our year, simply because those are relatively easy spells that could be taught to a first year. Banishing, Summoning and Vanishing are all fourth year spells yet they have very simple intent behind them. Go away to…; Come here or simply Go away. The only reason for the wait on learning them is the control and power required.”

The logic behind that last statement made perfect sense and Hermione had to question herself as to why she never thought of it that way before. Deciding to shelve that line of thought, she turned towards his education statement.

“What about the electives?”

“Those don’t apply, unfortunately,” was his answer. “Because they are elective and not of the Core classes I’m a year behind in whatever courses I choose.”

“Makes sense, that and every other Maturity has happened after the beginning of at least fourth year,” she said more to herself by way of thinking out loud than actually talking to Harry.

“My belief is that Maturity is what gave Voldemort a real taste for power,” he theorized. “Before his fourth year he was not . . . eh, ‘running’ . . . down the Dark Path. He actually missed the first two months of Fourth Year because he was undergoing his own Maturity as the last of the Slytherin line. Once he had that taste, well . . .”

Yes, she thought, no need to explain further than that. It does make sense too, what with You-Know-Who giving the same line over and over about power. It also explains why as a Half-blood he championed the Pureblood Supremacy Movement; if he had that much Family Magic waiting then surely the others do too.

The duo fell silent for a time as they returned to reading. Hermione had dug up her Family Magic books looking to understand the Vassal Pacts and just how it was possible to Will a line onto another. It did enter her mind that to be able to continue these lines Harry would have to have more than one wife for practicality purposes due to needing so many heirs. Those that had daughters simply wouldn’t take on the Potter name, while he would have to actively look for those willing to forsake their own Family Magic or be a First Born to take the name of each Line. Plus one more for his own House. The implications were raising her ire, to the point she finally burst.

“Harry James Potter! This is absolutely barbaric!”

His reaction was one that she didn’t expect. Instead of waffling, stammering and bending to her will he calmly replaced the quill bookmark then picked the front cover up. With a flutter of parchment and a WHUMP the book was shut to which he leaned forward. Both elbows landed on the table, fingers interlaced then stopped in front of his face. The pose left from his eyes up visible. Then he tilted his head slightly and the light reflected off his glasses.

She shuddered.

He had delivered a perfect Ikari Death Glare, Seated Variation. And held it.

She panicked.

“I’msorrypleasedon’tbemadatme . . . it’sjustthatyouhavetohaveaharemtocontinuethelines!”

It slowly dawned on her that he was more than a Lord of a House; he was one of the few true Magic Lords. His was the House, dating back to before Merlin – the Peverell’s dated back to the beginning of History it seemed.

“Hermione,” he finally spoke, still holding The Pose of Death, “I don’t mind you playing the part of my conscious most of the time. But instead of yelling at me, how about asking me if I know what I’m getting into? Then we could have a civilized conversation about whatever it is that’s bothering you, letting logic and facts win out. Being passionate about a subject is one thing, going mad on someone is something else.”

She nodded so fast he was suddenly afraid of her head falling off of her neck. His Will Be Done was her motto now, as he finally dropped his arms revealing a smile.

“Now, could you repeat your statement? I didn’t understand it.”

“Have you looked at the End of Line laws?” she countered, taking what he’d said about asking questions to be a direct order. She hadn’t failed to notice when he’d spoken his magic had flared.

“Actually, no I haven’t,” was his response, eyebrows creeping upwards. “I have a feeling that you’ve at least looked them up before just to have the knowledge. My gut is telling me that I’m not going to like your answer, so I’ll say this now: I’m not mad at you. I’m not even mad at the world per se. Just something else that takes me far away from ‘normal’.”

0750 August 8, 1994; Wizengamot Chambers; Ministry of Magic

Albus Dumbledore sat behind the Chief Warlock dais, surveying the gathering House Representatives and Proxies like a Battalion Commander looks over a battlefield. The Summer Session was about to commence, and it appeared that there was something afoot. It wasn’t completely obvious, even to his trained eye, what it was but the Lords and Ladies were jumpy for some reason –it mattered not their alignment in magic.

Having so many job titles was at first, something to be proud of. One of the problems he encountered on a regular basis was that there was simply too much to keep track of with the time available. Case in point, since the term let out of Hogwarts on June Thirtieth, he had yet to set foot in his office there to check his instruments that monitored certain individuals. He’d been distracted by the surge of memories in regards to young Potter for the last eight days, nearly letting some underhanded agendas get passed his normally keen intellect. There was no way he could reschedule the I.C.W. and Wizengamot sessions as it’d been an uphill battle to get them set in the two months the school was closed, with openings for any events that the members wanted to attend –like the upcoming Quidditch World Cup at the end of the month.

Internally shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he took note of the time then fired a few mild cannon blasts from his wand. It was as the Lords and Ladies sat that he found what the hubbub was about.

The Potter Seat was occupied.

“The Summer Session of the Wizengamot in the Ninety-Fourth Year of the Twentieth Century will now convene. Before we resume our debates from the Winter Session, is there any new business?” Dumbledore’s voice dominated the Meeting Hall, all attention locked on the cloaked figure in the Potter Seat.

There was no surprise when the green gemstone attached to the small desk at that very seat lit up. Nobody else so much as twitched, wondering if the person currently hiding their face was young Potter or not.

“Chair recognizes The House Potter,” Albus nearly deadpanned, having scanned the room only to find everybody else as entranced as he was.

The figure rose from the leather chair, whomever it was being a shorter person. This ratcheted the excitement level up a few notches, which continued to rise as the figure bowed its head then reached for the hood of the cloak.

The first thing Dumbledore saw, as the hood was lowered, was the raven’s nest of hair. Hair that was infamous amongst the Magical World as a trademark of the Potters.

‘Crap.’

“I come before the Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot to claim what is rightfully mine by Birthright and by the ancient Rite of Conquest,” Harry said with a firm voice, his eyes traveling around the Hall. The whispering and murmuring had started at his appearance but increased tenfold at the Rite. There was only one individual that qualified for that.

“Before things get out of hand,” he continued, zeroing in on other Proxies and not a few Heads of House, “Is this august body aware of the Pacts made to my House during the last war?”

Silence. While many of the members had eyes bulging at this very public calling out –complete with squirming-, not knowing what Harry actually knew of the situation prevented them from talking.

“I’ll take that as a no. Those of you that are in the know, or are in position to let the Family you represent know, have no fear. I will honor the Pacts as they were originally Oath-bonded.”

‘SHITE! HE KNOWS!’ internally raged Dumbledore, knowing full well that if –when this became public it’d cause many problems. He was of two minds about this however. When the public found out and Harry had no clue, Albus’ house of cards would come tumbling down. Then again, if Harry was in the know then he would have to deal with the raging masses when they figured out he now dominated the legislation. The only reason Dumbledore himself knew was because Lily wanted to rant about how backwards the Magicals were. Ah, the joys of Muggle-Borns and their ideals that in the end get stamped out anyway.

“House Potter does forthwith lay claim to the Birthrights and Ancient Appointees to the Houses of Peverell, Emrys, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.”

Outrage and not a bit of confusion. That statement got the members moving as it were, and not in a good way for Harry. Those Houses had been ‘empty’ –for lack of a better phrase- for a thousand years and he just ended that.

Harry was irritated, and it showed when his magic pulsed bringing instant quiet to the Meeting Hall. Every member was subjected to his emerald eyed stare, before he dropped another bombshell.

“By Rite of Conquest, House Potter lays claim to House Slytherin via thrice defeat of its final Lord: Tom Marvolo Riddle.” This was met by confused looks all around, except for the Chief Warlock. Dumbledore was slouching in his seat, making himself a smaller target.

“Does nobody know Tom Riddle? I exclude the Chief Warlock from that question as he taught him at Hogwarts,” Harry wondered, his voice betraying his surprise that this information wasn’t public. He looked around and was met with head shaking all the way around.

“I shall demonstrate then.”

Forgetting about needing a wand he Flagrate’d the full name in the air with his right index finger. The Hall was taken with this display of power, even if it was unintentional. With a wave of his hands the anagram appeared and the screams started.

“Are you kidding me?!” he thundered, now thoroughly annoyed and bringing attention back to himself. “Not one of you, even those that embrace the Darker side of life, ever questioned where this madman came from?! You’ve all been fooled!” he had to take a moment to calm down as yelling wouldn’t accomplish much. “Tom Riddle; son of Merope Gaunt –witch, and Thomas Riddle –Mundane. Your bloody Dark Lord is a Half-blood. Even more so than I am, at least both of my parents were Magicals, forget that my Mum was a First-Born.”

Eyes were wide all around the Hall with the noted exception of the Chief Warlock. It didn’t take long for the Lords and Ladies to notice this, and they started to really fume.

“You knew this Dumbledore?” demanded Augusta Longbottom, rage plain as day on her normally neutral façade. “You knew this and never bothered to bring it up?!”

“Dowager Longbottom, be civil please,” was the rebuke instead of an answer to her question. Time for some damage control and diversions. “As for your claims Mister Potter, you are not of age yet and cannot sit your seat.”

“Wrong,” Harry retorted without pause, producing a receipt from Gringotts. “The Goblins ran me through a Heritage Ritual after my unexpected Maturity. Oh yes, we’ll be talking about that later. Magic itself sees me as an Adult, Laws are only written by beings. In the eyes of the Goblins, I’ve come into mine and have unlimited access to my accounts.”

If the receipt wasn’t proof enough, the Notice-Me-Not on the Signet Rings lifted revealing that what he was saying was true.

“Now then, Dowager Longbottom,” he continued, “I found the information the easy way. Riddle told me his birth name in my Second Year, and just this morning I wandered into the Department of Magical Census to find a birth record. I don’t fault anybody, bar the Chief Warlock for not volunteering the information, for not looking around for it. After all, anagrams are of the Mundane invention. Although why anybody thought he was born with that made up name is beyond me.”

There was a collective cringe from the Assembly at being taken to task by a fourteen year old, even if he was of The House.

Lucius Malfoy was fuming. While the Supremacy Movement had gone underground after That Night in eighty-one, it was still pushing its agenda and the information revealed today was going to set them back centuries. Perhaps allowing some of those Mud-bloods a seat here would be a good idea in the future as they would have caught on to this from the get-go. Then those of the power could go eliminate the threat before it cost them so much.

“Be fortunate, those that followed Riddle,” rumbled Harry, bringing the focus back onto his person, “for I am not casting the Praedia Bellica. Yes, I am more than capable of it both with my morals and my Magic. Now then, I do believe I’ve taken enough of our valuable time today. What say you to my Claims and my sitting the House Potter chair?”

He was of The House, there was only one of two things the members could do. Either vote yes or not at all; it was of little surprise that the Hall lit up in a sea of green gemstones.

1900; Same day; Leaky Cauldron Room Eleven

“They’re a bunch of baboons,” Harry grumbled over his dinner while using an auto-copy quill to write up the notice of a meeting between the Pact Houses at Potter Battlements. He had finally decided to move there, to the ancestral home that was a Castle/Fortress of the Babylonian type. No matter the methods, the place could survive a siege of biblical proportions with ease. “Well, except Ladies Abbot, Longbottom and Bones,” he amended his statement slightly upon reflection. Some of the other Pact Houses were either not present or silent thus giving him no feel for whomever was in charge of each.

“Be nice to the baboons,” Luna chastised him, “It’s not fair to the rest of the species to lump them with politicians.”

This earned a loud guffaw from Harry and Hermione, causing a slight interruption in their meal. He’d just spent the last hour going over the Wizengamot meeting, knowing he had another two weeks of sheer idiocy and boredom to look forward to. Then he’d get to do something exciting at the end of the month: see the Quidditch World Cup.

“Bah! You shoulda seen Malfoy’s face when I mentioned the Praedia Bellica! Priceless!”

Both girls abruptly stopped laughing to stare at him, making him highly uncomfortable.

“Harry, you do know what that spell does?” Hermione was in fine form now, tilting her voice slightly so that the question sounded like a threat. Now that she knew how to behave around him without the emotional outbursts of old, she could demonstrate her passions without getting The Pose in response.

“Of course I do,” he replied, looking affronted, “it’s in my Grimiore after all. All I did was inform Riddle’s former followers that I’m not about to use it even though I can. It’s a Slytherin move, y’know? Demonstrate that you have the power to ruin but elect not to while keeping the power hanging over their heads like a Sword of Damocles. Besides that, I don’t want to deal with the fallout using that spell would produce.”

“Ah,” was all she could come back with, now knowing what his intentions were. Now she could indeed laugh about the possible look on Malfoy’s –and by extension, the other ‘former’ follower’s- face.

“Very shrewd, Harry,” Luna complimented with a golf clap. Her upbringing included lessons on how to handle the Wizengamot. If you have something on even a minority, use it to your advantage. With what he’d dumped on them about Riddle –she was too uncomfortable to use Voldemort- he effectively neutered the Assembly for the time being. Now it came down to keeping his head above board so that they couldn’t turn the tables.

“Dumbledore is off his game,” Hermione further expounded. “Just by following what you’ve done today he could have prevented a vast majority of the loses in the last war. As a leader, he should have done so. Instead he let the Magical populace flounder like a fish out of water.”

“Question is, for what reason?” agreed Luna, the two tops-of-their-years putting their heads together to try to crunch this problem.

“Ah, the great question: why,” Harry nodded sagely, knowing he was getting into territory out of his depth. He was raised with the motion to not ask questions. Well, that was going to have to stop. After all, if he was going to survive this madness and life in general he’d better get cracking to get the answers.

Two hours had passed with no real headway made. A key piece of the puzzle was missing, several in fact. Harry was holding one of them but hadn’t realized it until it was time for Luna to head on home.

“I got this from Algeron Croaker,” he said at length, revealing the short missive. “Says there’s something in the Department of Mysteries that I need to see him about. Any ideas?”

“The only known place within that Department is the Hall of Prophesy . . .,” she trailed off, her eyes going ever larger than normal. “Harry, there must be an active Prophesy concerning you down there. It’s the only reason you’d get a missive from the Head of the Unspeakables.”

“But Divination is rubbish!” Hermione immediately counter-argued, having a very bad feeling that if what Luna said was true then there stood a very good chance of dark times ahead.

“Maybe Trelawney is rubbish, but not the subject,” the blond calmly countered; even though she did give the evil eye. “Ever heard of the Seers of Delphi? That’s genuine Divination at work.”

“I’ll look into it tomorrow before the Session,” Harry interrupted the debate before it could get out of hand. “In the mean time, I’m off to the Battlements. I’ll key you two in as soon as I get there, and we can continue this over dinner in the evening.”

Knowing that he’d effectively shut them down for the night, both girls engulfed him on a hug before heading out of his room. While the Cauldron was nice, he wanted somewhere private to be and the Battlements offered total seclusion from the rest of the world.

“All right Dobby, take me home,” he said to an empty room after a wave of his hand packed his belongings. He’d already settled the bill at dinner and had Tom’s permission to leave directly from the room.

Pop!

“At once Master Harry Potter Sir!”

TBC

End of chapter notes:

Much better, if I do say so myself. That, and going over what I’ve previously done with the comb is a good thing.
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Magical Maturity