Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Little Butterfly	By : ChrisF. Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > General - Misc Views: 7557 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I Own Neither Harry Potter, Percy Jackson nor the works associated with them, or any other obvious fandom reference. This means no Money is made, but unless you’re a complete dimwit or this is your first Fanfiction, you know that.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2:

Location: Unknown
Time: Unknown
(+)

            Harry had the instinctual urge to groan as he regained consciousness, but he realized after a moment that he didn't actually feel any pain. Hold on a minute, he thought to himself. That wasn't right. The last thing he remembered, he been in the graveyard fighting with Voldemort and he was pretty sure that he at least had some broken ribs, that should be rather painful.
            Okay, Harry stay calm and think this through. You're not dead, so that's a plus – aren’t you, some pessimistic part of his brain wondered. After all, he had never been dead so how would he know what it was like? NO, he snapped at himself. Focus, figure out where you are and what’s going on, and go insane later! He wracked his brain for a second, trying to remember what had happened. He remembered walking into Voldemort’s trap, and being captured, but the rest was fuzzy, like trying to cling to a dream after you’ve woken up.
            “This is your first time consciously being here,” a smooth baritone voice that sounded like satin on silk protruded on Harry’s thoughts. “It will come to you.”
            Harry froze where he lay, cautious, but not afraid. Rather the statement acted as a catalyst, clearing away the haze over Harry’s mind and he began to remember the greater details of his confrontation with Tom Riddle. He should have been shocked; and truthfully he was a little bit surprised, but not overwhelmingly so. Years of dealing with a psychopath stalking him had kind of lessened that threshold. He was more surprised that he wasn’t completely paranoid and assumed every bad thing in his life was a plot by Tom Riddle to torment him. No, in fact he was proud of himself for thoroughly kicking Tom’s ass.
            Knowing that he had been caught Harry decided to open his eyes and sit up, and took a moment to look around the room. It was dark with rich Renaissance style architecture, hardwood floors and rich mahogany stained paneling along the walls and ceiling. It was simply decorated with Greek vases scattered around the room containing Anemone flowers of various colors. Some of the followers were blue and purple, others were pink and white, but the ones that caught Harry's eye the most were the red ones. They were the deepest, most vibrant red that he had ever seen and they filled the room with a sweet fragrance that Harry wasn't sure he recognized.
            The most dominating feature, however, was the massive fireplace at the far end of the room that cast a warm glow throughout, as the fire crackled merrily within. Sitting in front of the fireplace were two chairs that Harry thought oddly looked like recliners? One of them, he noticed, was occupied by a silent figure - probably the one that belonged to the voice he recognized, he thought.
            Harry got up, swinging his legs over the edge of the couch that he had been laying on and quietly made his way over to the empty chair, listening to the wood floor creak as he walked. He quickly made his way over to the fireplace and the empty chair. He took a moment to look at the figure that occupied the other, and gasped in shock and wonder. He knew who it was, of course he had said his name when he had invoked the God against Tom; besides which everyone knew the face of death when they looked upon it, but it was still a surprise to actually physically see the being. He was actually disturbingly handsome, not at all what Harry imagined when he thought about the personification of death. He wore a thick dark purple robe with a black leather belt around the waist. He had an olive skin that almost seemed to glow golden, and Harry wasn't sure if that was the firelight, or the gods own natural iridescence. The boy couldn't quite see his face from that angle, but the God had long raven black hair that Harry imagined his own would look like if he chose to grow it out. What was truly astounding, however, was the large black feather wings protruding from his shoulder blades. They seemed to absorb the light around them. Finally resting against his knee was a sheathed the short sword of Greek design.
            “Well, have a seat Harry." Thanatos said to the young Wizard after a moment, when he just stood there." We must talk, and I imagine that you have questions."
            Harry jumped hearing Thanatos speak and moved quickly to take the empty seat, covering his embarrassment in the shadows – yet remaining silent. He did indeed have question, a lot of them in fact, but he wasn’t exactly sure where to start. After all, it wasn’t every day that one got to talk face to face with a god. It was actually this fact that inspired Harry’s first response. “So… Gods exist,” he said lamely. It was more a statement than a question, but a valid one. It was hard to argue the point when the proof was literally sitting with you about to have a chat, and Harry knew instinctively that it was the truth.
            “Thanatos laughed and Harry recognized the very pleasing note in his ear. “Indeed we do,” Thanatos confirmed with a nod of approval. “Although, I am technically a Primordial.”
            Harry thought about that in the context of the things he knew. I scientific terms a primordial was one of the most ancient forms of life that existed since the beginning of creation, and arguably precipitated life itself. That put a great deal in perspective for the young wizard and forced his next question. “Are there other gods?” Harry found himself fascinated by the thought of different pantheons.
            The primordial smiled and nodded affirmatively, pleased by the boy’s eagerness for information. “There are many: The Aztecs to the south, the Asatru – or the Norse of the North East, The gods of the Far East – China and Japan. The Nomad god of the Middle East, and several others.” Harry knew that ‘Nomad god’ referred to the god of the Israelites and the Muslims, but he heard the edge of the tone that the Primordial used and decided to drop it. He would have to look into it himself later. “The most influential of these, however, is my own pantheon of relatives the Hellenics, or the Greeks,” Thanatos continued. “We are the foundation, influencing all the best attributes and advancements of the West: Politics and government, medicine, education, art and music, literature and sports.”
            Harry listened as Thanatos lectured him and found himself nodding in agreement. The more that he thought about it the more he saw the Greek influence in everyday life. The Mediterranean was the very first region to have any form of social democracy; and while Britain was technically a monarchy, the people chose the MP’s that represented them in the House of Commons.
Harry knew about the ‘Father of Medicine’, a Greek named Hippocrates and the Hippocratic oath; and Archimedes of Syracuse who was an Ancient Greek mathematician, physicist, engineer, inventor, and astronomer.
There were plenty of endless examples of Greek influence in art, music and literature; all you had to do was go to a museum, or a library and do five minutes of research. Sports was another painfully obvious example. They held the Olympics twice a year, Games named after the most famous icons of Greece.
“I understand all of that,” Harry said after a moment when he noticed Thanatos had finished. “What I don’t understand is, why me? What is so special that Death himself would help me?” Harry asked in both confusion and frustration. “I’m Harry, just Harry.”
"Why not you?” Thanatos asked, rebutting the boy’s question with his own in counter to it. He sighed, the boy had such a desperate lack of self-esteem and an entrenched need to be normal that the idea that he stood out was unthinkable. “Even after tonight’s events, even after facing down your foe four times and being victorious, you still think of yourself as less than extraordinary?”
Harry thought about it and conceded the God’s point. As much as he may not want to admit it, he had done some pretty amazing things since he had come to Hogwarts. Even if I hadn’t intended to, he added. “Which brings me to another very valid question,” Harry said quickly – seizing on the opening to ask his most vexing question. “I’m not whinging about it because it saved my life, but how did I do all that?”
The winged being nodded in acknowledgement, having expected the question and steepled his hands. “In answer to both of your questions Harry – How and Why – I have always watched over you and my line.” Harry made to interject, but Thanatos held up his hand to stop him, and continued. “The Gods have always had children. It is how balance is maintained and how we make our will known in the modern world; and the Potters have always been part of my line though my son Ignatius Peverall and his brothers, but you Harry have had the strongest connection to me since Ignatius himself.”
He was a demigod, he thought as he finally began to understand. It would explain a lot. “So, the power I channeled wasn’t my own then, but yours.”
“No Harry,” Thanatos denied the statement. “You’re missing the point. Every Claimed demigod receives the blessing of his or her God-parent. It works as a Booster, an Amplifier for a short time. When you called on me, just as you asked, I gave you my blessing and renewed my claim of the Potter line, but you still possess the blood of a god.” He explained all of this, watching to make sure Harry understood. “The power was your own, the blessing simply showed you how to use it.”
Harry sat there for a few minutes, letting the silent wash over him, and absorbing and assimilating all that he had been told. “I think I understand,” he said finally. He would definitely have some studying to do. “What now?”
Thanatos looked at Harry again, gaging how he was handling the situation. “That is a very difficult matter,” he informed the young man. “The life of a demigod is never an easy one and often ends tragically. Do you remember how I told you of Tom Riddles Horcruxes, the anchors tying him to the mortal plane?” Harry nodded that yes he did remember. “Those things go against every law of nature. They need to be destroyed, and I’m giving that task to you.”
Harry wasn't surprised by this. He kind of always suspected that it would come down to him and Tom in the end. In fact, he wouldn’t be overly surprised to learn that there was some rubbish prophesy out there somewhere about it. As it was, Harry did the only thing that he could do at the time and nodded. “I don’t suppose you would tell me where and how to get rid of them?”
The Primordial smiled apologetically. “I will not – I cannot; but have no fear, you will know when the time comes,” he reassured the wizard. “There is time. You have weakened Tom Riddle considerable. By Claiming the Rite of Conquest you have taken the largest portion of Tom’s power, he will need time to rest and consolidate his forces.”
He remembered that, remembered the euphoria of syphoning Tom’s precious power and taking it as his own. He could think of no greater punishment for a man who valued power above all else then to strip him of it, Harry thought vindictively. He would have to look into that too, and see what it all implied for him. He was going to have a busy final week at Hogwarts, he thought absently.
“In the meantime,” Death spoke interrupting Harry’s contemplation. “It is time to end this conversation. You will be in your Hospital Wing by now, no doubt expected to give explanation.”
Thanatos was right, his return would have caused a ruckus and everyone would want an explanation. “What should I tell them?” Harry asked the immortal.
He shrugged the question off with a wave of his hand, as if it were inconsequential. “The choice is yours, the truth, or lie if you wish, it matters not to me.”
Harry considered this. It would be simpler to lie, he knew that few would believe him and it was easy enough. People died in the Tri-wizard tournament all the time, but when Harry thought about it the idea made him angry. Why should he have to lie and shield people from the truth because it frightened them? Besides, it was bad strategy. Let the cowards deal with the truth how they would.
“One last piece of advice Harry,” Thanatos said to him before the conversation drew to a close. “…The eyes are the windows to the soul, do not look into Albus Dumbledore’s.”

Location: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Time: 1:30 A.M.

            Harry found himself relieved when he walked out of the hospital wing, and led Luna toward the kitchens, grim scampering along in tow. He didn’t really mind the hospital wing really, if you could ignore Madam Pomphrey’s mother-Henning – didn’t even mind that; he actually found it oddly endearing that she cared so much. What did bother him was the Ministry interrogation – Questioning, he reminded himself sarcastically. He understood why, of course, and he had been prepared for it, and although he had determined to change his behavior he still wasn’t all that comfortable with questions.
            Never mind the fact he did not like the idea of so many Ministry officials around Sirius. It was true that Dumbledore had been there, but Harry imagined that even the old headmasters influence would be limited when faced with the fact of a ‘mass murderer’ in the room. He knew that Sirius would tell him that he was over-thinking it and too cautious, and it was true that he did question the Ministry’s competence, but even idiots got lucky sometimes.
            Suddenly Harry was overcome by a deep and reaching depression, and frowned, every line on his face illustrating his despair. He wondered if his godfather would ever be free now, and he doubted it. The only tangible proof he has of Sirius’s innocence was dead. He briefly considered the possibility of retrieving the body because at least that would be something, but then he remembered that the cemetery had been charred and devoid of anyone other than him, Cedric and Tom after the duel. If Harry had to bet he would say that the six other bodies had been cremated in the fires during the duel.
            Luna must have noticed the shift in his mood, because she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry too much Harry,” she told him with an encouraging smile. “Have faith that it’ll work out.”
            It was a very kind sentiment, and he thanked the younger girl for it. “Thank You,” he said to her. Kindness aside, however, he didn’t put much stock in faith. Then again, considering all he had learned tonight, he would have to reevaluate quite a few of his previous stances. “What’s your name, again?” He asked her abruptly. He knew he had asked her, but he couldn’t remember. “It’s been a long night and I’m rubbish with names,” he said to her and it didn’t sit right with him that he didn’t even know her name when she had saved his life.
“Oh,” she said and she sounded moderately surprised that he would ask her. “Don’t worry about it, a lot of people here forget me.” She reassured him, making harry frown. The Blasé manner with which she said that bothered him. I’m Luna Lovegood, Luna Anthia Lovegood.”
            Hearing Luna’s full name Harry grinned and pivoted on his heels to face her, walking backwards as he spoke. “Lady Moon Flower… It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed gallantly at the waist and took her hand. “I am in your debt.
            Luna actually giggled during the act and took his hand in return. “You charmer you,” she teased smiling. “You’re going to be a heartbreaker one day aren’t you? Someone’s going to be very happy.”
            Harry blushed when he heard Luna’s assessment of him and his future, but he was secretly pleased by it. Snuffles barked, and Harry could hear Sirius’s proud teasing even in his animagus form. “That’s enough out of you mutt,” Harry snapped playfully as they reached the painting of the fruit bowl. “Watch this.” He addressed Luna as he turned to face the painting and tickled the pair – he was pretty sure there was an innuendo behind that, and one of the founders was a pervert. Yep, definitely a pervert, he decided as the pair laughed and quivered under his fingers before the Portrait sung open. “The Weasley Twins showed me this.”
            He waved Luna though ahead of him, sweeping his arm out ahead of him with a nod and followed her though. He always liked the Hogwarts Kitchen for some reason. Despite its size it felt warm and homely to him. It was relatively simple in design for a place that fed so many, he thought. It was a large stone room, lined with massive wood burning stoves for cooking, and cabinets all along the walls. Harry imagined that they held typical kitchen paraphernalia, and probably a few of the big ones having preservation charms to hold food.
            There were two big oak tables like the ones in the Great Hall, sitting side by side and running the length of the kitchen. At the far end of the tables was the biggest hearth that he had ever seen. It could easily fit forty or fifty at a time for flow travel, and cast a pleasant glow though the room.
            A giant caste-iron cauldron hung by a hook over the fire. In the far corner of the fire place was a stack of logs to feed to it when the fire when it started to die, and in front of that was a collection of Smaller cauldrons and pots. To the right of the big cauldron was a substantial rack that held utensils that wouldn’t look out of place in Snape’s class, and sitting vertical to that was an iron spit-roast.
            He always found the house-elves fascinating – ever since his disastrous run-in with Dobby in his second year. He didn’t quite understand why Hermione was so ardently against the idea of House elves.
Well that wasn’t true, he did know. Her Upbringing told her that servitude was wrong, but Harry saw a few issues with this – The first being that the little creatures were only too happy serving them, she didn’t realize how uncomfortable she was making them. The second was very much a party-line to his ear, but it did ring true to him in this case. Hermione was a textbook example of the pureblood’s complaints about muggle-borns. She came to Hogwarts wide eyed and eager to learn anything and everything that she could about it – sometimes over eager to the point of putting people off – but instead of taking it in and immersing herself in the culture, she applied her own moral standard to it.
"What can Misty being helping young wizard and Miss?”
The over-excited question surprised Harry and jarred him from his thoughts. A little elf in a teal tea-dress had noticed them, and looked at Harry and Luna with eerily deep blue eyes, eager to help them. Her question had drawn the attention of the other elves and suddenly they were the center of attention. Harry chuckled and patted the little elf on the head. “We missed dinner, would it be alright to get some bubble and squeak and some chamomile tea, which would be fantastic!”
Misty nodded and looked at Luna inquiringly. Luna pursed her lips a minute considering, and nodded coming to a decision. “That works,” she said. “Make that two bubble and squeak, but I think I’ll have a coffee if you can, heavy cream, one sugar please.”
Misty nodded vigorously. “Misty can do that it is being just a moment.” When she turned and went about her duties she called out almost rudely. “Dobby, be getting the drinks.” Harry raised an eyebrow.
Harry watched as the elf he knew jumped and scurried into action curiously, before turning his attention back to his companion. “Can I ask you something?” It was a rhetorical question, of course. He had every intention of asking. “How did you know that I would need help?”
Luna only shrugged trivially at the question Harry asked her. “The birdies told me,” she told him like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Harry looked at the blond girl oddly for a second, trying to figure her out, when suddenly an idea struck him and he looked at Luna in understanding. “You’re a seer,” he asked seeking conformation. He hadn’t really believed in divination, something he agreed with Hermione about. He had taken the class because Ron had urged him and it was an easy grade, but when he thought about it he thought he may have been wrong. He may not have the gift, but he had been witness to two prophesies that Professor Trelawney had made now, and she was always talking about the grim and Harry meeting his death. Close enough, he conceded. He just never took her quite so literally.
“I suppose that depends on how you look at it,” she said when she thought about it for a second. Most People just thought that she was strange. Harry was the first person at Hogwarts to associate her eccentricities with something else and not pre-judge her. She was impressed and could understand how he could draw that conclusion. “It’s not really divination though,” she caveated. “For example, I know that your friend here -” She indicated Snuffles by scratching him behind the ear. “- is really your Godfather Sirius Black.” She saw both Harry and Sirius tense, the ladder prepared for flight while Harry watched her warily, prepared to clear his godfathers escape if need be. “Relax you two, if I’d wanted to turn you in I would have done it back in the room full of Ministry personnel and Aurors.”
Harry watched her a moment longer, trading looks with Sirius. He had to admit that she had a point. There wasn’t any better time to out Sirius then in front of the Ministry. Making his assessment, he nodded and watched as Sirius transformed. He wasn’t concerned over the house-elves, they answered to the Headmaster and he knew Sirius was there.
The first thing the older man did was to wrap Harry in his arms, in a crushing hug. His body radiated relief as he buried his nose in Harry’s hair, every bit the concerned parent. “I’m so sorry pup,” he said in a muffled voice that cracked with emotion. Once again, his guilt crushed him. He was supposed to be Harry’s guardian and yet again he had failed in his duty. “Thank God that you’re okay.”
Harry snorted into this godfathers robes when he heard that statement, and he idly wondered which one Sirius was referring to. “It’s alright Sirius, I’ll survive – I always have.”
Something meant to be a reassurance to the man served to have the opposite effect then it was intended. Sirius whined and pulled Harry tighter to him still. It killed him that his godson was so used to having his life threatened. After collecting himself Sirius released Harry, looking him up and down, running his hands over Harry’s body to reassure himself of Harry’s well-being before turning to address the Ravenclaw girl. “I want to thank you, from the bottom of my heart,” he said to her, reaching out to take her hand in both of his. “I am in your debt – I won’t hear otherwise,” he stopped her before she could utter a word. “Anything you need or want is yours if it is within the power of the House of Black.”
Luna decided that she liked this man, because under the scary shag and care-free prankster mentality that he put off was a caring and nurturing father-figure who cared, and would do anything for his godson. Harry would need that in the days to come. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said smiling a bright genuine smile. “It never hurts to have a favor from and Ancient and Noble House in your pocket.”
Sirius chuckled and nodded in acceptance of the girls reasoning. He liked her, he decided, echoing Luna’s thoughts about Sirius himself. She was a deceptive girl; she put off this kind and sweet persona that Sirius knew was genuine, but there was a sly and deceptive streak to her, which made her shrewd and calculating. She would make an excellent Slytherin, he thought.
Sirius moved to sit across from Harry and Luna as Dobby came up with a silver tea set, and levitated it to sit between the three of them. “Dobby brings tea for Master Harry Potter Sir and his Looney.”

Harry knew that Dobby and most house elves – he assumed – had issues with human speech and tended to mangle names. As such, he knew that Dobby most likely meant no insult to his new friend, but the nickname made him do a double-take. “Dobby!” Harry snapped with a scandalized look on his face. “That’s very rude, apologize.” He told the little creature.
Dobby stopped and did a double-take of his own in shock, blinking owlishly. Harry had never yelled at him before. The shock morphed into regret then sadness as his eyes started to water. “Dobby is sorry Miss,” he hung his head in shame. “Dobby is a bad elf, bad!”
Harry recognized the self-depreciative abusive behavior and reached out, grabbing Dobby by his sky-blue tunic before he could hurt himself. “None of that now Dobby,” he stopped the little elf and let go when Dobby turned to look at him, watery eyes full of adoration. “I know that you didn’t mean anything by it, but those kinds of nicknames are an insult to people. Could you maybe come up with a less offensive nickname?”
Dobby stopped for a minute and thought about the request, tilting his head with a look of concentrated consideration. Harry would have laughed if it wouldn’t have been counter-productive. Dobby looked at Luna for a minute and nodded. “Dobby can do that,” he said determinedly. “Dobby is sorry if Dobby was rude to Harry Potter’s Lovely.”
Luna giggled in delight when she heard her newly christened nickname. She liked it, she thought as she watched Harry blush. “I accept your apology,” she assured the diminutive house elf. “Would you be so kind and get Mr. Black something to eat? I’m sure he’s very hungry.” Luna looked to Sirius for confirmation of her assertion and he nodded. “A nice medium-rare steak and mash, I think – with a nice Château Léoville Las Cases, I think.” Sirius looked at Luna in surprise and raised an eyebrow. “What, you’re against a proper drink?” She asked the man challengingly. “I imagine it’s been a while since you indulged.”
Sirius took all of two seconds to consider this and nodded his assent to Dobby, and the little elf snapped his fingers and the requested bottle with a wine glass appeared on a silver tray. While it was against the Hogwarts bylaws to serve students alcohol, the professors and staff kept a stock for private use.
The three humans talked for the next few minutes about inconsequential topics as they drink their beverages and waited on their food – Harry chatting animatedly with his godfather, catching up properly. Luna sat quietly and sipped her coffee, content to let the other two reconnect.
When Misty brought them all their food Sirius spoke to her. “Bring me a couple of more glasses,” he told her. Misty looked at the Animagus and hesitated. She knew that the man intended to share his drink with the students, but she wasn’t technically breaking any rules. With a sigh she snapped her fingers summoning the additional glasses.
He smiled gratefully at Misty and proceeded to pour a finger into the additional grasses, passing one to both Luna and Harry. “What,” he asked defensively when Harry looked at him. Meanwhile Luna took a sip without batting an eye. “I think we’re going to need it, and if anything you’ve earned a drink.” Harry picked up the glass, swirling it in his palm like he’d seen on television “Sip it, don’t gulp,” he told the boy. He remembered the first time he had a drink with his father at thirteen; he’d thought he was going to be a bass ass pro and slammed his Firewhiskey. It had been like a trampoline, it had gone down and had come right back up. Harry took a sip and Sirius smiled, impressed, as Harry took his first sip with a barely noticeable grimace.
They were all quiet for a few minutes as they ate their Bubble and squeak and Steak and Mash. Bubble and squeak topped with poached egg
Bubble and squeak is a traditional English dish made with the shallow-fried leftover vegetables from a roast dinner. The main ingredients are potato, and Brussel sprouts, but carrots, peas, cabbages, or any other leftover vegetables can be added. The chopped vegetables (and cold chopped meat if used) are fried in a pan together with mashed potatoes or crushed roast potatoes until the mixture is well-cooked and brown on the sides. The dish is so named because it makes bubbling and squeaking sounds during the cooking process. It is often served with cold meat from the Sunday roast, and pickles or brown sauce, or as an accompaniment to a full English breakfast.
Harry used the quiet time to organize his thoughts and reevaluate his day for the hundredth time. He picked up his wine glass and took another sip with a sigh, an action that did not go unnoticed by either Sirius or Luna, the former glancing at his godson from the corner of his eye. The man waited patiently – an act to be commended when performed by Sirius Black – not wanting to push him.
When Harry did speak, it was simple, direct and to the point – and directed at Luna Lovegood. “You’re a demi-god…”
The sound of a fork hitting ceramic was heard when Sirius dropped his fork in shock. He knew all about the Hellenics, of course – the stories surrounding them. Many pureblood families followed the religion, many claiming to be of divine descent. Such claims were, of course, rubbish %99.9 of the time, but Sirius doubted that Harry knew any of that. So when Harry made the claim, and not of himself but of the Lovegood girl, Sirius sat up and took notice.
“Is that a statement, or a question?” She countered Harry just as directly as he had.
Harry huffed, believing that Luna was being intentionally obstinate with him and he had had a long night, he was in no mood for games. Then it occurred to Harry that such a question could be personal, and thus considered rude. Plus, if his query were meant as a Statement then it wouldn’t require an answer. It was very sly. “A question,” he concluded smirking playfully. Suddenly, he felt the need to retract his private thoughts, he rather enjoyed the tit-for-tat with the Ravenclaw.
Luna saw the recognition in Harry’s eyes and nodded her approval. “Then the answer is yes. I am a Demi-god, and so are you, aren’t you?” She countered him.
Harry hesitated a moment and looked at Sirius out of the corner of his eye, but steeled himself. “I am,” he confirmed as he reminded himself of his vow. He wasn’t going to shrink from himself, wasn’t going to hide and minimalize his life anymore. “Who is your parent?” Harry asked in kind, but hedged himself, remembering that such questions might be viewed as inappropriate. “If it’s not too rude to ask that is.”
“That depends on who you ask,” she conceded the question. “Some are fine sharing such information, while others prefer to keep it private.” She stated factually. “As for me, I don’t mind, but can you guess? Think about what you know, what you’ve seen tonight.”
Meanwhile Sirius watched the two, fascinated, as if it were a quittich match – eye’s darting from Harry, to Luna and back again as they spoke. The idea of a legitimate child of the gods in Hogwarts was incredible, and he did believe her. She didn’t seem the pompous type to him. “Are there any others like you at Hogwarts?” Sirius found himself asking her.
“There were two that I knew of,” she told him. “Like I said, some people are very private about their heritage so it’s not really my place to tell their business, but the other – I don’t think Cedric would mind anymore.” Luna frowned sadly when she told them. Cedric had been older, but he was her friend, always kind and sweet to her. “He was a son of Aphrodite.”
Sirius hung his head and nodded dowry. That made an odd sort of sense, he thought. Cedric had been a rather handsome lad from what he saw of the boy. Good on you Amos old boy, he couldn’t help but think. To land the Goddess of beauty, love, pleasure and procreation was no laughable feat, a lesser man would be jealous.
He faltered when his brain caught up to the conversation though, and he realized that Harry had confessed to being a half-god himself. He didn’t really know how to process that, but first and foremost it worried him. Sirius wouldn’t call himself secular; it was difficult to claim that when one knew that Gods existed, but there-in lay Sirius’s problem. He knew the Gods; they were petty, vindictive, spiteful, greedy and quick tempered. They had a tendency to hold grudges, they were very human in that regard. He didn’t want any of that for his godson. Having a dark lord after you was bad enough, having an angry God, but what could he do? He sighed in contrition and frustration. He would just have to be vigilant and help Harry anyway that he could…
In the intervening time Harry was trying to piece together the clues that the Ravenclaw had given him, listening to Luna and Sirius converse with half an ear. He wasn't completely surprised to learn that Cedric was a child of Aphrodite, it was fitting when he thought about it.
He hadn’t known her for more than the night; that made it somewhat difficult, but he knew that the girl had some cognitive ability similar to precognition, and it seemed to make her somewhat eccentric, but there was rationality and intelligence there if you knew when to look. It was very much a contradiction; and Harry studied her as she spoke to his godfather, the way she spoke and held herself, her mannerisms. She was very comfortable and confident in herself, he noticed. She was very calm and collected as she spoke to Sirius, lacking the typical dreamy behavior. He noticed that she held her whine glass with what he thought was practiced ease for a thirteen year old girl.
Although, the most Glaring clue to Harry was Luna’s ability to cause Madness in those that she touched. He shivered being reminded of the sudden madness of Barty Crouch and resolved to never piss the blond girl off. He used all of this information to try and form a Hypothesis.
Despite the Dusley’s best efforts to keep him away from anything freaky or abnormal, he also knew at least some of the basics about the Greek Gods thanks to his frequent trips to the local public library. He knew about the twelve Olympians, and Hades – just as he had known the significance of the name Thanatos. Granted, he would have to brush up now and separate the muggle myths from the facts, but based on all of this he was inclined to say that Apollo was Luna’s father. It did fit. Apollo was often associated with Precognition and Divination. The Oracle of Deli was said to have been driven to madness, cursed by her prophesy’s.
Another possibility was the Goddess Psyche, though it was slim and Harry nearly disregarded it out of hand. Psyche had not been born a Goddess, but granted the status after many trials when she had fell in love with Eros, the son of Aphrodite. Officially she wasn’t the Goddess of anything; she held no titles and had no temples, but mortals often regarded her as the Goddess of soul – Harry was sure Hades appreciated that so much – and madness – again stepping on other Gods toes. Harry thought that she must be really popular on Olympus, but no…
Luna had said Daddy; although, Harry Doubted Gods were restricted to the gender to which they were born. Harry shivered, the random idea of Zeus as a woman was a truly frightening thought. Disregarding that extremely unwanted thought, that would make her God-parent a man. That left one other distinct possibility, Dionysus. This made the most sense to Harry, because one of Dionysus’s titles was as the God of madness and while Apollo’s prophecies could incite madness he wasn’t associated with it, and Luna said that she wasn’t a seer, that she just knew and Harry knew that there was clarity in madness. It was the people around them that didn’t understand it.
Harry was sure that this was the answer. “You’re a daughter of Dionysus,” he said firmly.
Even though Harry had not asked her the question and played their game, Luna nodded yielding the answer. She had expected him to choose Apollo as his answer, everyone did until she had been claimed. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I have two twin brothers, Caster and Pollux who are currently claimed. They are non-wizards who stay at Camp Half-blood year-around with daddy.”
“But I thought Xenophilious was your father,” Sirius said confused. “It’s a matter of public record.”
Harry actually looked at Sirius for a minute and questioned his godfather’s cognitive function. The answer to that was so simple that even he knew the answer to it. “Oh he is,” Luna answered him. “Xenophilious adopted me when I was very young, after he married my mother.” She turned her attention back to Harry. “Do you want to tell me who claimed you?”
"Don't you already know," he asked here teasing. He could very easily see that becoming a thing, but he didn’t mind answering just the same. “It was Thanatos.” That was pretty much the end of it, and they began to wind down for the night. They finished their dinner and chatted before calling it for the night. He did ask her about this Camp Half-Blood that she had mentioned her bothers being at, and she told him that it was a safe-haven for demi-gods to train and be safe. “Well,” he said finally. “I think we all better get some sleep. Dobby could you please take Sirius and find him a safe place to sleep?”
Harry laughed as Dobby spoke after Sirius had transformed. “Oh yes Master Harry Potter Sir,” he said happily. “Dobby be taking care of Harry Potter’s Dogfather personally. Come on puppy.”
Before Harry could thank Dobby, the elf was already though the portrait and gone. So, Harry turned to Luna and addressed her instead. “Would you like me to walk you back to Ravenclaw tower?”
“You’re so sweet Harry,” she said to him before she leaned in and gave him a peck on the cheek before walking out the portrait, humming to herself. “I think I can manage on my own.”
Harry stood there for a moment, flabbergast and blushing. The only thing that registered in his confusion was, I’m glad Sirius isn’t here.

Location: Malfoy Manor
Time: 12:00 A.M.

            Malfoy Manor had always been a warm and welcoming place, Narcissa Malfoy made sure of it. It was always full of love and laughter, but not today. Today it felt dark and cold. “Can Noddy be getting Mistress anything,” her favorite house-elf asked cautiously. She could sense something was bothering the Malfoy matriarch, and she didn’t like when the Mistress was upset.
            The house-elf broke Narcissa from her dire thoughts and she looked at her in surprise. “Yes Noddy,” she told her after a thought. “More Wine.”
            It was definitely that sort of night, she thought. The Tri-wizard tournament had ended two hours ago and not in jubilation. Harry Potter had returned and fallen unconscious as soon as his feet hit the ground, with a body in tow. Unsurprisingly, the arena had been cleared quickly after that. The Ministry had pushed back the award ceremony – again unsurprising – and as a preliminary was stating that the Diggory boy had died during the tournament; and that was the trick because it wasn’t untrue, but she knew the truth.
            An hour before that her husband had left Hogwarts early and in a rush, clutching his left arm. Her heart froze when she saw that because she knew what it meant. Lucius wasn’t a bad man; she would never tolerate if he were a cruel-hearted man. In fact, he was a very kind and idealistic man, it’s what had led so many of them to the Dark Lord.
            Noddy popped in then, glass in hand and sat it next to her mistress. “Noddy be getting mistress a Henri Jayer Richebourg Grand Cru, Cote de Nuits,” she said making Narcissa smile sadly. She must really be worrying the little thing. Cote de Nuits as not an everyday wine.
            Noddy was the most human house-elf that she had ever seen, Narcissa decided. “Thank you Noddy,” she smiled and sipped her wine – sighing. She didn’t know what had happened. She remembered the Dark Lord in the beginning. He had been so idealistic and Charming, a Handsome, charismatic man. That had been part of his draw to a disenfranchised Wizard populous. He had spoken of the old ways and returning to the Gods. It was toward the end that had changed, and she didn’t know how. The Dark Lord had become unhinged and plagued by fear. Only the most ardently loyal, like her sister, had refused to see it – or just didn’t care.
            That was the worst and funniest part of it though. You had to be fanatically loyal not to see what was happening. The Dark Lords increasing insanity and thirst for power led to the decimation of many old and respectable families. Anyone who opposed, or questioned the Dark Lord was slain without quarter. And now he was back, but what could she do? Her own family was scattered to the winds, its power in shambles, and she could not and would not go to Albus-bloody-Dumbledore for aid.
            That meant that it fell to her to act, as a daughter of the House of Black in good standing, but she had no idea where to start. This would be much easier if she were the Head of House, she thought. She sat there for what felt like forever, brainstorming and drawing up plans, only to discard them out of hand. It felt hopeless, and for the hundredth time she wondered at how much easier it would be if she were the head of house – the resources that she would have available to her – but Sirius…
            Then it hit her. Of Course, Sirius, how could she not have thought of it before! She wasn’t stupid, she know about her fugitive cousin’s animagus form, she had seen him in the headmaster’s box at the tournament; even if she wasn’t the wife of a Death Eater, she knew that Sirius was innocent. He would never support the Dark Lord; and she was still getting her stipend from the Black fortune, that more than anything was telling to her. She had never been particularly fond of politics, but for the first time she was thankful to her aunt Walburga for so insistently drilling it into them.
            Work to do, she thought as she stood up, took her wine glass, and made her way to the drawing room. She had letters to write and things to set in motion, and she was under no delusion as to the Opposition she would face. Most of all the skepticism from her cousin, she imagined.
            She made her way through the corridors of Malfoy manor with a surety that she was right. If this worked the way she hoped then she would be able to protect herself and her family without having to cow to Dumbledore. On her way she passed the Malfoy Family tapestry, and stopped to admire it as she always did. It wasn’t as elaborate as the Black Family’s, but she loved the intricate weaving of the silk and gold fabric. She noticed that one of the limbs was glowing with a new date. Looking at it closely, her heart stopped cold, and she gasped releasing a pained wail. The Tapestry read:
‘
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
1954-1994
            Narcissa nearly fell to her knees as her sorrow took her, however, she leaned forward bracing herself against the wall. She vaguely heard the glass shatter on the floor as sobs wracked her body. Her husband was dead, and whatever else he may have been he was a loving husband, and she loved him.
            She stood there for nearly twenty minutes before she pulled herself together. She would miss her husband, and no doubt those would not be the last of her tears, but that would have to wait. She could not let this get to her now, and she resolved to use her pain to fuel her resolve to protect what remained of her family. So she took a minute more and with a deep breath stood tall. “Lord Hades, hear me. Guide my husband to peace in your domain and judge him with a merciful heart…”
            She decided there and then that she would not allow the Dark Lord to take any more of her family. He had woken the long sleeping ire of the Blacks and she would show him just why that was a thing to be feared. She made her way to the bureau in the drawing room and opened the drawer. From it she withdrew several sheaves of parchment and a small onyx ring with the sigil of a rose with blood tipped thorns wrapped in garland. It was the sigil that marked her as a rightful daughter of the House of Black. With that she took the self-inking dict-o-quill and began to compose a probably too short, but long over-due letter:
            Cousin,
                        It has been many years since we, the children of the House of Black have corresponded in any meaningful way. So, I will spare the both of us pointless pleasantries. I imagine that the both of us are aware of the events of tonight and the significance that it represents. A storm is coming cousin, and its effect have already touched the Malfoys. Just this evening I witnessed my husband’s Date of Death on the Malfoy family tree, and no matter what you thought of him he was my husband.
                        As a family we have often stood on the opposite side of the political divide. It is no secret that you opposed Uncle Orion and Aunt Walburga, but I believe that it is time to erase that divide. Whatever He may have been in our parents’ time He is no longer. He has virtually decimated our family and I have no wish to see it farther brought low from its once great station.
                        I wish to restore our House and its name, to use it as a weapon against him, and remind the world of the fury of the Blacks. That begins with you cousin – as the Head of House. To that end, I am drafting several letters on your behalf that if all goes accordingly, will set events leading to your exoneration.
                        Help me, Sirius, to make “Semper Purus” more than just words, more than blood. Help me to make it something to be proud of. Let the Blacks be Pure of Heart.
            Narcissa Malfoy nee Black
                        P.S. As farther proof of me sincerity – as you no doubt remain skeptical – and not without just cause, I Grant. I, Narcissa Malfoy, invoke the Goddess Hecate as I make this pledge, to judge my intent. I hold No malicious intent toward Sirius Black and intend to Unify and re-establish the House of Black.
Gens Fedelus.
            Narcissa read though the letter again, it would not do to make a mistake. When she was sure, she took the end of the quill and with a quick hard push she pierced her index finger. Taking her ring in the other hand she smeared the blood across the surface of the signet, making sure to cover it evenly. Looking at the words Gens Fedelus – Family Loyalty – she pressed the ring just beneath those very words. The parchment seemed to sizzle for a moment and a fiery orange glow enveloped it before vanishing. When she pulled the ring away a small red stencil-like mark that mirrored the rings signet adorned the Parchment.
            Satisfied, she folded the parchment, took her wand from her evening robe pocket and sealed it. Then she did something that was of immense surprise to the aging elf – she called Kreature. The old elf popped into the dark room surprised, but cautious. No one had called on Kreature since The Mistress had died years ago. He looked around the room and saw a figure sitting at the desk, and his magic fluttered in recognition – he knew who it was. “Mistress calls Kreature?”
            Despite the harsh gravelly tone, Narcissa heard the hopeful happiness in it. “Yes Kreature, I have a job that only you are suited for.” She smiled sadly at the poor little elf. He was so neglected from years of disservice. Perhaps she would take him in. “Take this letter and give it to Sirius as soon as possible. It is imperative that he and only he get this letter, do you understand?”
            Kreature looked almost mutinous at the idea, but it was the Mistress telling him to do it so there must be a reason. He reached out and took the letter before popping away. “Kreature will do.” Not that the elf had much choice.
            Satisfied that her order would be carried out, Narcissa turned to the desk again. She had four more letters to compose before bed: One to the Ministry, One to Gringotts to discuss her and Draco’s holdings and dispense with Lucius’s Will, another to their Barrister to discuss and Reopen Sirius’s case, and the last to her son. That was the one that worried her the most of all.
            She sighed and set to work, much to do…

Location: Hogwarts
Time: 5:30 A.M.
One of the biggest problems this going to a boarding schools, Harry decided, was the complete lack of privacy. He was used to waking up at ungodly hours so that didn’t make a difference. What sucked was the strain in his groin every time he turned around and not being able to take care of it. Why couldn’t he take care of it, you might ask? Because his fucking wand was burned to a fucking cinder.
            He tossed himself on to his back with a frustrated sigh, listening to the quiet around him. All there was, was quiet even breathing, the sound of crickets in the night, and Ron’s snoring overpowering it all. “Screw it…” He whispered to himself after a minute of lying there in silence, cock straining awkwardly in his night shorts. If he counted the number of times he’d listened to Seamus and Dean sucking each other off because they had forgotten the silencing charm, or just didn’t care – he thought unbidden.
            His cock twitched in interest as the image of Dean on his knees in Seamus’s bed, sucking his cock. He bit his lip to hold back the moan as his hand trailed down his stomach and wrapped around his cock. He imagined Dean’s ebony lips around the pale shaft as it pulsed in his mouth. Seamus’s fingers tightening in Dean’s dark curls as his hips started to thrust, his tight ass flexing and forming dimples.
            Harry’s breath became labored as he got closer and closer to cuming, and gripped the base of his dick to try and stave it off; but it was useless. He was already tumbling over the precipice, his body wracked with trimmers. “Seamus…” The name escaped him before he could stop it as he worked the last of the cum from his cock. “Fu…” he half swore as he lay boneless on the bed.
Harry lay awake in the dark of his dorm for several minutes listening to his friends before he became motivated enough to move. I better get a move on, he thought somewhat reluctantly. The day at Hogwarts started at seven-thirty, but the Library opened up at six for any straggling students with work to finish, or early study. He knew that he was exempt from Finals because he was a Champion, but he had a lot of personal study to do in the ensuing days – a lot to make up for, and he knew that if he wanted to get any of it done that he would have to start early. Hermione might be impressed, he knew, but Ron would try to distract him at every turn. The redhead just wouldn’t understand why Harry was studying if he didn’t have finals.
            With his determination set he rolled out of bed, digging his toes into the shag carpet as he stood and stretched. Making his way around to the foot of his bed and opened his trunk. Looking a bit ragged, he thought. I’ll have to get a new one when I go to Diagon Alley for my new wand.
            Rifling though it Harry retrieved the new toiletries that had bought on his last trip to Hogsmeade – Hogwarts provided basic rudimentary things, but he preferred his own – a change of clothes, and a towel since he lacked a wand to do a drying charm. Having the items that he needed Harry crept out of his dormitory and down the stairs.
            The common room was cold, dark and silent – not a surprise considering how early it was. The hearth was burning dangerously low, so Harry walked over and threw a new log on, before veering off to the loo just off the common room.
            He made quick of his shower, taking care of his business and exiting the bathroom, dressed in a basic red tee and black slacks and sneakers, with about ten minutes to spare. By now his house mates were becoming more and more active. The log he had set had caught, casting a glow in the early morning light and there was a smattering of students around the common room. He had left his things in the bathroom for the elves to pick up. He knew that he would have them back by the end of the day.
            He wondered vaguely about that – a completely random thought, but that wasn’t new. The house elves picked up random discarded cloths all the time and weren’t offended by it, he knew from talking with Dobby that only the Headmaster, or the master of the castle could dismiss an elf. Yet, while they dutifully did their work, they avoided Gryffindor tower like the plague. That told Harry that you elves were simply offended by Hermione and her misguided efforts to free them. He shook his head at his friend’s behavior and made to leave the common room.
            On his way out he noticed two first years sitting on one of the sofa’s whispering and shooting him glances. He was used to this and didn’t think anything of it, so he nodded politely and greeted them. “Nigel, Romilda,” he said simply and they froze as if they had been caught at something. Romilda Vance blushed a little, but he knew the young girl had a bit of a crush on him, so he smiled and moved on. “Have a good day.”
            He remembered when he had come to Hogwarts four years ago, he had thought that he would never learn his way around the castle. Now he knew them like the back of his hand. Although, he admitted, hours of studying the Marauders’ Map last year may have played a part in that as well. As it was, he traversed the halls and staircases with a practiced ease, coming to a stop before a set of large wooden doors.
            Opening the Library doors and stepping inside, Harry did a cursory glance around. Even for a Monday, at this hour it was relatively quiet. There was a few students, like himself that wanted to get a jump on exams at the end of the week, and Madam Pince who looked half asleep at the front counter. He’d bed five galleons with the Weasley twins that was Pepper-up potion in her mug.
            Making his way into the stacks he realized belatedly that he really didn’t know where to start. He supposed that he could ask Madam Pince, but he didn’t think that would be received well for some reason. Once again Harry cursed. If he had his wand it would be simple, but a week at Hogwarts without it was going to be murder. Think rationally Harry, he thought to himself. It was a library, albeit a magical library, but what did all libraries have? He turned around, changing course back to the front desk, or right next to it.
            The walls that lined either side of the counter were covered in drawers. It was the Hogwarts catalog. An index of every book in the library by title and/or subject. Most students didn’t use it, because again they could summon or use their wands to point them, but for Harry… The only question was, what did he want to look up? “That’s easy,” he muttered. “I want to know about the Greek Gods and the powers I used in the graveyard, but what do I look under – Magic associated with Thanatos, Death Magic’s?”
            That would take forever, Harry thought briefly, but as he verbalized his query the catalog began to react. Sections of it began to glow; one drawer, then two, and then a third high up near the ceiling – one for each new subject that he mentioned. There was a brief flash and a slip of parchment appeared on the little wooden podium at the end of the catalog, next to the front desk. “Oh,” he said in pleasant surprise when he noticed it. It was amazing. Four years at Hogwarts and he still didn’t know the basic functions of the Library. Approaching the dais he picked up the parchment. It was a list of relevant books he wanted, and where to find them – in which section. “I really love Magic. Thank you,” he whispered into the air. He wasn’t sure if the castle could hear or understand him, but he wouldn’t put it past the old girl.
            He took another look at the list:
Greek History: The complete guide to the Greek Way of Life, Ancient Greece, Greek Gods, Zeus, Hercules, Titans, and more!
By strugrur Agorim
Magical History & Theology
Greek Gods and Heroes
By Lord Cruroar Dragonsbane Many-Thumbs
Magical History & Theology
Death Magic and the Underworld
By Brenys Shipsail the Dungsweeper
Magical Theory and Application
Restricted Section
Necromancy for Beginners
By Bellamin the Wizard
Magical Theory and Application
Restricted Section
            Now that he knew generally what he was looking for he made quick work of it. He’d been in the Library enough to know his way around. He started in the history section and then moved on to the restricted section. One of the perks of being a champion was unrestricted access to the library, something Hermione had used their friendship to capitalize on all year – not that he minded. Granted, the intent of the exception was to study for the tournament, which was over, but there was no stipulation to that fact. So he could push it to the end of the year.
            Finding a table in the corner of the restricted section, Harry sat down and picked up a book. He chose Death Magic and the Underworld first. He wanted to know about the magic’s that he had used against Tom and he thought that might be the best starting point. He quickly lost himself in the tome. There was a lot of interesting information in it. He could see why Hermione liked the Library so much.
            There were listings and descriptions of all kinds of magic’s:
Nether Manipulation, or Entropy-
User can create, shape and manipulate Nether, the "Chthonian Element" that flows through the realms of the living, and the Dead. Nether is most known as the substance that makes up the Underworld, a subterranean dimension where all souls go when they pass on. Nether is very similar to Aether “the Celestial Element” in that is from a Plane that exists between the planes of both matter, and energy. However, although it can partake in the nature of either substances, Nether is neither of these things.
Despite being often considered "Death-Force" Nether is more than the source of what drains life away from living things, it is the destructive aspect of reality, the source and very concept of entropy and destruction, disasters and all degeneration in matter, energy and concepts. It is the power that makes possible and ensures severing the soul's connection to their mortal body, so they can pass onto the afterlife. It is also the power that summons and controls the souls of the deceased. Users of this power acknowledge that Nether exists in Elemental, Cosmic, and Spiritual forces. Nether exists in the cosmos as sort of a gateway between the land of the Living and the Dead, stretching out to anywhere where death has potential to occur.
Like Aether, Nether is a Spiritual Element, which means it cannot be perceived by any physical sense. The only way Nether can be seen is if it were mixed with an Element of the Physical Realm (Most often Darkness, Fire, or Earth).
Necromancy, or Necrokenisis –
The user's magical abilities revolve around manipulating the dead, death, the life-force and/or souls for good (i.e., resurrecting the dead), evil (in various ways) or neither. Users can also use communicate with the deceased – either by summoning their spirit as an apparition or raising them bodily – for the purpose of divination, imparting the means to foretell future events or discover hidden knowledge.
Many practitioners find a way to cheat death one way or another, whether by becoming some form of undead creature or by bypassing their own ability to die.
Death Inducement, or NecroGenisis –
User can kill anyone and possibly even anything using varying means, either instantly, slowly over time, after certain conditions are met, or after a certain period of time has gone. May be used by touch, at a distance, simply willing it to happen, or performing certain rituals.
Ectoplasm Manipulation, or Spectral Energy Manipulation –
The power to manipulate ectoplasm. Sub-power of Astral Manipulation and Soul Manipulation, variation of Energy Manipulation.
User can create, shape and manipulate extra-planar energy called ectoplasm, which comes from the roots ektos meaning “outside” and plasma meaning “something formed or molded”, as such it can be understood as a variable-state form of matter-energy coming from planes beyond the physical. Its form can range from raw seething energy, a misty vapor, a viscous gelatin, a bundle of fine threads, a living membrane or a fine, fabric-like tissue that can also be solidified and used for material purposes.
Because of its unstable, esoteric properties, ectoplasm reacts to normal matter/energy in unusual and useful ways, including being able to ignore most of them. Some mediums secrete or emit ectoplasm in order to facilitate communication with ghosts. Coating spiritual entities in ectoplasm may assist them in interacting with the physical plane. Ectoplasm itself is often valued as an ingredient in alchemical magic.
            Harry stopped as he read the entry on Ectokenisis, and thought about all that he had done and the forms that it had taken He thought about the flames that he had used to protect Cedric’s body, how he had used it as a shield to stop the unstoppable, and as an offensive weapon – hurling deadly fireballs an needles – but what made it click was the threads. He remembered how he had used the threads to ensnare and bind Tom, stopping the Fiendfyre and bring it to his knees. He would have to look into that more. If what the book said was true and Ectoplasm was all around them, then the potential for that kind of power was nearly limitless.
            He became so absorbed in his tome that he lost track of time. When he looked up at the grandfather clock on the far wall read eight-fifteen. “Better call it,” he thought. If he missed all of breakfast his friends would hunt him down, thinking that he was hiding and moping – which he wasn’t – and he would never have a moment alone. So, picking up his books and made his way to Madam Pince who looked decidedly more awake, he decided. “Madam Pince, I want to check these four out this week,” he said politely and sat the books on the counter between them. “I’m going to need them shrank too, if you can please.”
            “Good Morning Mr. Potter,” she said politely in return as she scanned his books with a swish of her wand. She stopped half way though and looked at the titles: Death Magic and the Underworld, and Necromancy for Beginners. “I’m sorry Mr. Potter,” she said to him with a slight quiver in her tone. She was eying him cautiously now. “I can’t release these books to you.”
            Truth be told Harry thought she might have objected, but that didn’t mean that he planned to give up at the drop of a hat. “Why not,” he asked her with a furrowed brow, playing the confused card – like he had no idea why she was objecting. It actually wasn’t that much of an act, as he would explain to her.
            “Because they’re Dark Arts Mr. Potter,” she whispered scandalized, as if the answer were obvious. To be fair to her it was, it was just completely stupid.
            “Yes,” he conceded her argument. He really couldn’t argue the point because the subject in them was considered dark by general standards. “Yet they can be found in a school library,” he countered her argument. It made perfect sense to him. “That tells me one of two things; either it’s not illegal to read about the Dark arts – only to actively practice them – or these books don’t belong in the Hogwarts library to begin with. In which case I’m free to take them off your hands anyway – without your consent.”
            The librarian stared at him piercingly for a moment, weighing her options. She could let him check them out and return them Friday, thereby limiting his exposure, or deny that they did belong there and he’d take them anyway, because he wasn’t wrong. “OK Mr. Potter,” she relented with a sigh of defeat. She finished marking the books and shrunk them to pocket size as he’d requested. “I expect them back Friday after breakfast,” she said sternly.
            Harry nodded sagely in understanding, and smiled unoffended by her tone. It was quite normal for her to be harsh with students about her books, and it made sense as term ended then and they would be headed home after lunch. “Of course Madam, have a good day.”
            He was happy that he had taken the time to magically expand his pockets at the beginning of the year after he’d learned it from Crouch. He took the shrunken books and put them in his pocket, leaving the library. On his way to the Great Hall a loud bark drew his attention, and Snuffles bound up from behind him. “Morning boy,” he smiles and scratched the grim behind the ears. “Did you have a good night’s sleep?” Snuffles barked affirmatively and Harry nodded. “Good, I’ll have to thank Dobby when I see him.”
            A hushed whisper fell over the din of conversation when Harry entered, and several glanced at him out of the corner of the eye wirily. None of this surprised Harry. As much as it annoyed him he chose to be realistic about it. He had popped out of the maze with the body of a student, which was bound to set tongues wagging. So he ignored it as best he could and found his seat between Hermione and Ron. “Where have you been Harry,” Hermione asked him as seen as he was settled and began to load his plate. “You nearly missed breakfast.”
            Harry shrugged non-committedly. “Just needed some time alone,” he said without looking at her.
            Hermione’s eyes clouded with pity when she heard him. “Oh Harry,” she wailed predictably assuming that Harry was off mopping over Cedric. “What happened to Cedric wasn’t your fault,” she urged him. “Everyone knew that the tournament was a risk from the beginning.”
            So Dumbledore hasn’t made the announcement yet, Harry thought. “Oh I know that,” he said evenly and it was true. He didn’t like it and he felt bad that Cedric had died, but he didn’t blame himself. “I don’t blame myself, I blame Voldemort.”
            Ron yelled in surprise and shock hearing Tom’s alias, choking on the food he was in the process of chewing. “Bloody Hell mate,” he exclaimed sputtering as Harry patted his back. “What?!”
            So harry proceeded to tell his friends what he had told the Headmaster and the Ministry. He told them about how he had discovered Professor Moody was actually Barty Crouch under polyjuice, much to Hermione’s horror, and how he had fooled the Goblet of Fire by adding his name under a Fourth school. He told them about how Crouch had made the cup a portkey and how he and Cedric had agreed to take it, and finally how Tom had murdered Cedric – or rather ordered it – and used his blood in a resurrection ritual.
            It was that last bit about the blood that concerned Hermione the most, and she started lecturing them about the dangers of blood magic and the things that can be done with it. Harry found himself becoming increasingly annoyed with his friend. “What, do you think that I volunteered the blood Hermione,” he snapped at her. She cycled through a few expressions before settling. She scowled affronted, but had the decency to blush.
            Any farther debate, or augment was cut short by the parliament of owls that invaded the Great Hall with the morning mail, much to Harry’s relief. Among them was a very unique and noticeable snowy white owl that swooped down from the flock and landed in front of Harry. “Hedwig,” he said dotingly to the owl and stroked her feathers. “You got something for me girl?” She preened under Harry’s attention and stood straighter as she puffed her chest and held her leg out proudly.
            Harry grinned as he untied the sealed letter and gave Hedwig a piece of his apple as a treat. “Thanks Girl,” he said as he opened the letter.
Young One,
Enclosed is a place that will aid you greatly in the coming days. It is a place for others like you to learn and train. After school, make your way there as soon as you can.
Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill, Farm Road 3.141
Long Island, New York 11954
            A smile as big as Harry’s face formed as he read the note. It wasn’t signed, but he knew who it was from without a doubt; and he recognized the place, even if he’d never been there. “What’s the letter,” Hermione asked curiously. “Who’s it from?” She asked him as she made to grab the note from his hands.
            He looked at her when he heard her asking about the note. Oh just the best thing ever, he thought. He could just imagine his friend’s reaction. “Hey!” Harry exclaimed before he could respond, holding the letter out of reach. “I don’t go around nosing into your mail,” he glared at her. “What gives you the right to just grab peoples stuff?” By now he had drawn the attention of those around him, and he got up, extricating himself from the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go talk to a girl about summer plans.”
            Yet again, Harry ignored the looks he got and the whispers he garnered and walked away, scanning the hall for Luna; an action that would only cause more gossip as The Boy Who Lived spoke to Loony Lovegood. “Look what I got,” he said enthusiastically. He sat down in one of the open seats across from the blond third year, and handed her the slip of paper. “I just have to figure out how to get there.”
            “You’ll need to go to Gringotts,” Luna said absently as she looked at Harry’s note, before handing it back to him. “Ask to speak to your account manager. He’ll help you get your affairs and finances in order, facilitate a passport and Portkey… Goblin’s are profit driven, they’ll help you do anything for a price.”
            He hadn’t thought of that, but nodded in agreement. Plus, he knew that the Potters were a relatively old Pure-blood family, it wouldn’t hurt to take a look at its holdings. “I need to go to Diagon anyway,” he responded as an afterthought. “I need to find a new wand, my Phoenix Feather was destroyed in the duel.”
            “I want you to do me a favor,” Luna said suddenly. “You see that salt shaker on the table? Levitate it.”
Harry looked at her oddly for a minute. How was he supposed to do that without a wand? He shrugged and humored the girl, the worst that would happen was that it wouldn’t work and he’d look like an idiot. Done that before, he thought. He extended his arm, and swished and flicked just like he had been taught to do with his wand. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he incanted and felt a rush of power as the salt slowly rose up off the table, and suddenly fell abruptly. “How!” Harry demanded in shock at his own feat of wandless magic.
Luna looked at Harry and smiled indulgently as if it should be obvious, and to be fair maybe it was. Harry had been known to be oblivious to the obvious in the past. “Think about it Harry,” she told him. “Wizards and Witches use wands to focus and channel magical energy through a core, right? You are a Demigod, your blood itself is a highly conductive magical substance.”
He looked at Luna utterly flabbergasted. She made it sound so simple, but it made perfect sense when he thought about it. She’s a Ravenclaw for a reason, he thought.
That’s how the majority of the rest of Harry’s week went. He would wake up in the morning, shower and study. Then he would go to breakfast and sit and talk to Luna, a lot of the time about things that he had read in his books – comparing what he read with what was fact according to someone who was exposed to that fact – before going to class and studying more.
While there was no rule against sitting at other tables, gods knew that Dumbledore encouraged inter-house relations enough, Harry’s continued presence at the Ravenclaw table was cause for talk. Although, Harry paid it no notice. He was used to talk and barely noticed.
Dumbledore eventually told them all what he knew of Cedric’s death, and the circumstances that had led to it. It rocked all of Hogwarts and a wave of fear overtook the school. Harry could already see a divide forming: Those that naturally believed Dumbledore and believed that Voldemort had returned, and those driven by their fear to denial. Either way there were letters going in and out of Hogwarts full of the same speculation. If the Hogwarts microcosm was any indication, he was not hopeful.
Harry told Sirius about the letter, showing it to him when he got the man alone again and told him his plan. Sirius had naturally been skeptical of an unsigned letter telling Harry to go to some mysterious camp and the boy could understand that, especially given recent events. “…And if it’s legitimate? You heard Luna tell us about Camp Half-blood yourself,” Harry argued with his godfather. “Besides, we both know that I need to do this.”
Sirius looked mutinous, wanting to argue the point, but knew that Harry was right. Though he didn’t know the contents, Sirius knew about the prophecy. James had told him that much when he had come to Sirius about the Fedelus, and he knew that Voldemort would continue to target Harry. He determined to tell Harry what he knew as soon as possible. “All right,” he relented to Harry’s logic reluctantly. “But I’m going with you!” Sirius scowled at Harry letting him know that point was non-negotiable. “Besides, the Blacks have a Penthouse we can use not far from Long Island. We can stay there.”
Harry grinned madly and launched himself at Sirius, trapping him in a hug, accepting his godfather’s terms. Truthfully, the idea of having Sirius close at hand, even if he would technically be away for the summer was an attractive idea. “Thank you Sirius,” he said thankfully. He was so happy to finally have someone he felt was truly on his side. He knew that Sirius was skittish of all of this, but he was actively trying to support Harry in spite of that.
It was the Thursday night before the end of term – the next day – and Harry was quietly reading the Greek history book that he would have to return tomorrow, sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron and Hermione. Ron was ignoring him in favor of his plate, as Harry had predicted, not understanding his sudden fascination with studying, but Harry wasn’t offended. While Hermione, who approved, was eying him curiously. “What are you reading Harry,” she asked him – cautiously this time. She was in no rush to have him snap at her again.
Harry looked up from the book, turning his attention to Hermione. “Greek Gods and Heroes, by Lord Cruroar Dragonsbane Many-Thumbs.” He said, showing her the book.
Hermione’s brow furrowed upon hearing this information. “I thought you were reading something practical, not wasting time with myths and fairytales,” she said condescendingly. “Everyone knows those stories aren’t real.”
To be fair to her, two weeks ago Harry would've agreed with her, but for some reason her confrontational attitude seemed to be rubbing him the wrong way this week." Oh, just like Magic wasn't real four years ago," he argued counter to her logic.
“Don’t be ridiculous Harry,” she said to him in that tone of hers, and Harry felt once again that he was being talked down to. “That’s an entirely different argument. Those beliefs are entirely primitive. There’s only one god.”
Harry had mental whiplash just then. He did not believe that the logical and rational Hermione Granger had just reverted to such a base argument. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Hermione was apparently Christian, but it did. Even Ron turned to look at her then. He had expected her, as with a lot of analytical minds, to claim atheism, or at the very least agnosticism.
“Oh because Hellenism is so much less believable then your tribal nomad god.” Granted, he knew that the Israelite god existed as well – Thanatos had all but blatantly said as much –but that wasn’t the point. “Forgetting the fact that Hellenism is older by a thousand years,” he stressed the point. “Most of the Theology was taken from Hellenismos: Heaven, the apple in the garden, Solomon, Jesus Christ. All of these things are pagan. Your own prophet –Christ – is a Sun god, born of a Virgin like the Egyptian God Horus, or Dionysus born to Shemele.” He could see her becoming more and more frustrated, but he carried on, driving his point home. “The Christians even took pagan holidays as their own: Christmas and Yule, Easter and the Spring Equinox – Beltane, Halloween and Samhain…”
“Harry’s right,” Ron put his two cents into the conversation, surprising both of them. “Britain and Western Europe were Hellenic since the Romans were expelled from the Isles, long before the Christian priests and his warriors came. Many Wizard families still claim Hellenismos.”
Hermione sat there floundering; she wanted to argue and disagree, and she knew that she was right, but she knew that it was a dead end debate. Even Ron had disagreed with her, and arguing with him was like yelling at a brick wall. She settled for letting the matter lay for the time being, but she would study and come back.
Even though she let the matter drop, Harry knew his friend; this would not be the last he heard of it, but any further thought on the subject was halted by Professor McGonagall’s approach. “Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to see you in his office.”
She said it in that prim Scottish baroque that she gets, and if he hadn’t known her for four years he’d think she were cross with him. Of course, to be fair to her, one generally didn’t get called to the headmaster’s office for evening tea. So, he was at a loss as to anything he could have done to draw Dumbledore’s attention. “Thank you Professor,” he said politely not bothering to hide his confusion.
He said farewell to his friends and left the Hall. Six floors up and standing in front of the gargoyle that led to Dumbledore’s office, Harry swore viciously. He wondered vaguely if the Headmaster took some twisted joy in making people guess whatever eccentricity of his was the password that week. I hope Neville never has to come up here, he thought in passing. “We both know the Headmaster wants to see me,” he said frustrated to the Gargoyle. “Would you be so kind and let me pass?” It remained still for a moment and then jumped aside in vaguely animated fashion, surprising Harry. “Thank you…”
Harry stepped past the Gargoyle and rode the escalating stairs up to the door and knocked before stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. The Headmaster wanted to see him, so he should be expected. He took a minute to look around the office. He liked it there, he always felt warm and safe and a little bit awed. It was cozy; cluttered but in that unique sort of way that made it your own. The portraits snored in their flames pretending to be asleep, but Harry knew better; and Fawlks was on his perch with his head in his wing lightly snoozing. “You wanted to see me Headmaster,” he inquired of Dumbledore who sat behind the desk.
“Indeed my boy,” Dumbledore said jovially and motioned for Harry to sit, offering him tea and his lemon drops which, of course, Harry declined. “I wanted to check in with you before you went home for the summer. How has your last week been, are you looking forward to returning to your aunt and uncles?”
Harry eyed Dumbledore questioningly. How could the man think that he wanted to go back to his aunt and uncle? Harry had called Tom out about wanting to stay at Hogwarts, but that had been hypocrisy at its finest. Harry would much rather stay at Hogwarts instead of go to his relatives. Granted, he didn’t intend to stay that summer, but that was beside the point. “Things are tense, but that’s to be expected,” Harry chose to focus on the first question. “No one wants to think about, let alone admit that Tom is back.”
Dumbledore was quiet for a minute as he looked at Harry searchingly. “I understand that Sirius intends to return with you,” he said. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. It's not safe.”
Harry looked at Dumbledore in shock, like he’d just claimed to be a Nargle, to quote Luna. Because you have so much room to talk about what’s safe, Harry thought privately. He went through all of his schooling: Allowing a Dark wizard possessed by a wraith into a school, holding a dangerous magical artifact in said school, allowing an eleven year old girl to be possessed by a dark artifact, and allowing a convicted death eater to impersonate a retired Auror in a school full of children. “You’re the last person I want to hear a lecture on safety from, he found himself saying haughtily. The more he thought about it the more it pissed him off. “And I wasn’t aware that my summer plans, or who I spent it with were your concern.”
Dumbledore sat back in his chair flabbergast, it looked almost as if Harry had slapped him – in a way he had, verbally. “I’m sorry that you feel that way Harry,” he said evenly. He wasn’t used to Harry being confrontational, it worried him. “But with Sirius’s fugitive status I do not believe that it would be wise for either of you.”
“Yes,” Harry seized upon that slip. “A status he holds illegally no less. Which I find interesting,” he challenged while adopting a mock contemplative pose. “I find it interesting that you – the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot – couldn’t insist on a trial.” Harry rose deliberately from the chair before moving toward the exit. “If you will excuse me Headmaster, unless there are any other educational matters that you would like to discuss, I must go pack.”
He did not wait for a response, or a dismissal and exited swiftly. He descended the escalator two steps at a time in his haste, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the office. He did not know how much he trusted his temper.
The next day – Friday – everyone was packed and ready to go home. Harry had returned the Library books, and was once again sitting at the Ravenclaw table telling Luna about his meeting with the Headmaster. “Oh yes, he’s a sly one, ears all over the Castle.” Luna agreed dreamily. Harry was fast becoming accustomed to it. “The Whisper-men tell him everything.”
Because of who she was, Luna was often associative and Harry was beginning to understand her more and more, but sometimes he still had trouble. He tried to think of what Luna could mean – who or what could be the Whisper-men – but he just came up blank. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Harry apologized, and he really was sorry because he knew that Luna wasn’t being intentionally vague. When all he got back was an indifferent shrug he let it go and moved on.
“I can’t wait till we get out of here,” he said excitedly and it wasn’t lost on him that this was the first time in ever that he had wanted to leave Hogwarts, but he was very excited about the idea of camp. “I’m meeting Snuffles when we leave here and going straight to Diagon Alley.”
“I’ll see you soon,” he smiled and waved at Luna as he got up to make his way out of the Hall. If he wanted to get away unmolested he had to go before Dumbledore’s farewell speech. Sirius would be waiting for him in the Shrieking Shack, so Harry quickly made his way to the Womping Willow on the Hogwarts grounds. He sought out the knot at the base of the tree Sirius had told him about “Stupefy...” He whispered with a short jab of his index and middle finger.
The tree ceased its flailing when the spell connected, and Harry adopted a pleased look at his success. His ability to perform wandless magic still fascinated him. Looking back at the school one last time Harry disappeared into the tunnel. The last time Harry had been down there he had felt his world crushed soon after. It was ironic that he was facing a life changing event again. Reaching the end of the tunnel Harry raised the trapdoor and peeked out to make sure that he was alone.
Seeing nothing, Harry threw the trapdoor open and climbed up. He looked around for a second at the old shack. It still looked a bit ragged, but a lot of the dust, dirt and grime were gone. It was almost clannish. “Sirius,” Harry called moderately.
The floor creaked under the sound of footsteps approaching, and Harry’s face broke out into a grin as Sirius came into view. He was wearing a simple black robe with the hood down. Harry quickly closed the gap between them and wrapped the man in a hug. “I never took you as a basic black kind of guy,” Harry teased his wardrobe choice likely.
"I'll ignore the bad pun in there," Sirius said as he pulled away. "And I know, it's very Snape-ish, but it’s non-descript. Are you ready?” Harry nodded, he had made sure to shrink his trunk that morning and it was safely tucked in his pocket. “Good, we’re going to Apperate – a form of instant travel – to the entrance of Knochturn Alley and hoof it to Gringotts.” Harry briefly wondered why they didn’t just Apperate directly to Gringotts, but after thinking about it, this would be less conspicuous than just appearing on a crowded street in front of the bank. “OK, take my arm and remember to exhale slowly when we land.”
Raising his hood and drawing his wand, Sirius and Harry disappeared with a loud pop. Just like that, in the blink of an eye, one chapter of Harry’s life came to an end and a new, exciting and frightening chapter was about to begin.

END of Chapter

Review Responses:
Thanks Anon, and I do hope you enjoy Chapter 2. As to your advice However, I am aware of how dictation works. I did 3 read thoughs of that first Chapter correcting errors, anything I missed is the result of Human Error and not having a Beta, but I'm not willing to hand my story off to a stranger and be at the mercy of their timetable
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Little Butterfly