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Magical Maturity	By : Jim_Ohki Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 46440 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 16
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other series referenced within. Expanded disclaimer inside.

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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.

Magical Maturity, Arc One Part Three

By: (Driver) Jim Ohki

1700 Friday August 12, 1994; Potter Battlements

“Gah!” was the noise Harry made as he flopped down in the wingback by the Floo, utterly annoyed with politics after his first week in the business. It had been yet another day of jaw flapping between himself and Dumbledore, whom was trying to recover some form of dignity after being crapped on for all intents and purposes.

The Battlements were empty, from other humans to portraits. Being back an hour earlier than he’d been all week played a major role in the fact that he was by himself.

It was rather strange, he reflected, that it was quiet in the place he now called home. Matter of fact, he could almost hear his scoff echoing down the halls. Letting random thoughts take control for the first time since departing Privet Prison also known as Durzkaban or simply Hell on Earth he essentially shut down.

His not-musing, thousand-yard staring a brick in the wall into submission, was disturbed by the Floo coming alive. Hermione made a graceful exit, her cloak billowing in her wake giving him ideas for future entrances via that method. She seemed surprised that he was there before she was, but said nothing in favor of just enjoying the companionable silence.

This was not to be for long as the Floo flared again, a whoop of glee issuing forth before Luna came rolling head over arse across the floor only to spring up and land on Harry.

“Oof!” he grunted, feeling pain in places he really wished he didn’t. If the left hand to the head wasn’t bad enough, her right knee had found his most sensitive place. In her surprise her right hand grabbed the back of his head effectively crushing his face into her chest jamming his glasses between them.

“Well, this is different,” Hermione twittered from the couch, failing spectacularly at holding her laughter in. Then again, Harry had been entirely too serious of late and this bit of random mayhem should work nicely at relaxing him once the pain went away.

“Hi Luna,” Harry’s voice was beyond strange between being muffled from the blonde’s torso to several octaves higher from the shot to the groin. “Would you kindly get off my junk? I’d like to use it someday, y’know.”

“Hi Harry!” she enthusiastically returned his greeting, leaning back to be able to see his face better. This had the effect of shifting the weight on her knees putting more pressure on the place he’d just asked her to vacate. Seeing the wince spurred her into finally climbing off of him which earned her a sigh of relief.

“So, how did it go today?” Hermione had gotten herself under control, earning a grateful smile in return.

“Oh, the usual; the Wizengamot is really taking notice that Fumblemore and I are locking horns as it were,” he answered at length. “However, as it is officially the weekend for me, I don’t want to hear, think or talk about political rubbish until the Pact get together for Sunday Dinner. Speaking of, are you coming?”

“Not much choice now is there,” she grumbled, however the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. The Trio, as they referred to themselves, had settled on the First-Born of the group locking in the Potter name. Everything was still in the planning stages beyond that, such as exactly how he was to romance the girl during the year which promised to be very trying indeed. Matter of course, the girls had been unable to persuade him in the least that it wasn’t necessary to start just yet.

His counter argument had been that when the Public Session started on Monday that the populace would learn of a very eligible, very wealthy bachelor on the market that was actively looking. With the ‘battle’ –no doubt it would be one- plan at least formed in basics it would hopefully keep the fame and/or wealth mongers away. A young man can dream after all.

“C’mon,” he abruptly got up and headed for the entry hall. “Since we’re here earlier than normal let’s go have a look around the grounds.”

The girls flanked him as they headed outside, to which they missed the arrival of Errol: the oldest owl in existence. The poor bird crashed into the Floo grate, which fortunately had no fire in it, before flying rather erratically to drop a red envelope on the desk which was charmed to be the ‘mailbox’ when the recipient wasn’t inside.

Dobby immediately sensed magic not of Harry, His Granger or His Lovegood and popped in to investigate. Seeing the Howler, he promptly Banished it to the farthest Dungeon Cell under the Battlements so that his Master wouldn’t have to listen to the Banshee of Devonshire rant and rave. Having sent a Self-Inking Dicta-Quill and parchment to the same cell he did make sure to get the message so the appropriate response could be made.

Looking at the Owl-That-Was-Long-Overdue-For-Retirement, he took some of Harry’s pity for the ancient bird to dispel the Post Enchantments and promptly took him to the Owlery for rest and food. Hedwig, seeing what even she considered to be the Most Abused Owl Ever, stayed to keep him company and ‘talk’ to the poor avian.

Harry, with Hermione on his right and Luna on his left, was blissfully unaware of the events in his living room as they explored the front lawn. He didn’t know how he’d missed it on his flight but there was a garage/barn that housed a variety of vehicles. Apparently the Potters were not so Pureblood-esqe to deny themselves ownership of Mundane devices. The Elves in the Barn, as it was aptly named, explained their role in maintaining the collection, even if some of them haven’t been used –or seen for that matter- in half a century.

The cars ranged from Sportsters to Business, including an ultra-rare 1950s Rolls Royce Phantom Four Limousine in Factory-Mint condition having less than two hundred thousand kilometers (124,277 miles) which was originally commissioned by the Royal Family. There were a variety of Utility vehicles as well, from the Land Rover to the Volkswagen Euro Van.

Then there was a surprise in the form of military issue, from Jeeps to Half-Tracks and even, of all things, a FV 214 Conqueror tank. The three looked at the tank and then each other, wondering just why in the world there was one, and in the mind of Harry wondering if the gun worked and/or if they had the ammunition for it.

Feh, boys and their toys.

Having killed off the time before dinner, the three returned indoors to find the message from the Weasley Matriarch waiting on the desk in the corner. Harry had to read the thing three times to make sense of some of the rambling in what was originally a Howler. When he learned of the delivery method from Dobby his eyes narrowed before he composed his own in response.

Hermione and Luna were watching with no small amount of trepidation as he worked, torn between humor from his first Howler to anybody to fear of the damage it would cause from the magic he was overpowering. It took a more than bit of persuasion and feminine charms to convince him to share just what had started the mess.

“Wonky bint,” he growled while overlapping yet another set of Sonorous charms onto the letter he’d written, “dares to yell at me for locking them out of my Trust Vault. ‘Terms of agreement’ indeed; what bloody agreement? They never asked, let alone dictated, anything like that to me! Bah!” Even though he was ranting he did make a point to leave out the fact that the Goblins had added some rather embarrassing hexes to the Vault doors per his request.

As soon as the envelope was ready to go Hedwig surprised the three by fading into the room on the desk, leg already extended. She felt her Master’s displeasure and was keen on making it known to the recipients. She was gone before the girls could think of stopping her, and Harry added another distraction by announcing dinnertime.

1815; Same Day; The Burrow; Ottery St. Catchpole

The weather had behaved itself all day, leading to a nice long game of Quidditch following lunch. The Twins, Ron and Ginny were actually hiding in plain sight as their mother stomped around the kitchen of their home in a snit.

The family excursion into Diagon Alley had ended in disaster before it even really began. While the Twins stayed in the Lobby of Gringotts the others had taken the cart down to the Vaults. When the three reappeared, Molly was in full Banshee Mode on the cart driver about access to Vault Six-Eighty-Seven. The duo was more than aware that was Harry’s Vault, and felt that something was afoot. This turned out to be true when Molly, Ron and Ginny broke into a spontaneous rendition of Dueling Banjos.

From their hind ends.

Amplified by a Sonorous charm.

In reality it sounded more like a train horn crossed by an elephant trumpet in a tunnel underwater. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that their robes were billowing in time with their ‘music’, making them looking like a trio of Blowfish. The family had to escape to the Burrow, which meant a run through the Alley as the ‘Banjos’ continued to fight for dominance.

What they’d all missed was the outraged looks on the Goblin’s faces. While attempted thievery was one thing, the sounds the three produced sounded like the highest insults to their ears, ranging from ‘Your mother was . . .’ to ‘I just emptied your Vault and there’s nothing you can do about it!’. Insulting a female Goblin was worth Death. Insinuating that the Goblins as a whole were broke was worth War.

There was a reason the Nation hated banjos.

The Twins thought it was the funniest thing in the world, and were more than impressed by the usage of a flatulence hex tied into the amplifier and obscure music charms. What was even better was that once they were through the Floo the ‘music’ stopped. Thinking that whatever it was had run its course Molly immediately returned to the Cauldron only to have to dive back into the fire as her solo Banjo fired back up.

Thinking, rightly, that Harry had something to do with their current condition –which showed no mercy, having fired up three other random times already- Molly went against her children’s wishes and composed a Howler.

Now, as the sun began to set, Harry returned fire.

Ron was in a lazy orbit of their quasi-Pitch, just enjoying being in the air. For all his jealousy of Potter, he had to admit that the raven haired boy had the right of it about flying being relaxing. Looking off to the north, he spotted movement which quickly grew in size to reveal Hedwig on an attack vector. Letting out a shout of surprise, he dove for the ground and earned the attention of his siblings.

The other Weasley children present were surprised when Hedwig turfed Ron before banking her turn to pursue Ginny. The only daughter quickly found herself getting acquainted with the dirt beside her brother as the familiar of Harry dive-bombed the house. The noise of her children impacting the ground had attracted Molly to the kitchen window, to which she opened to yell at them to stop chasing each other. What she got was a face full of Snowy Owl that was using her wings to box the woman about the ears.

The tie that held the Howler came undone at that point, to which Hedwig launched herself back out said window so she wouldn’t be caught in the verbal explosion to come.

In the Burrow, the Twins –after gathering their siblings- crowded around the Howler that was smoking waiting for somebody to open it. Molly tried to Vanish or Banish it without success, as apparently the sender was well aware of that popular method of dealing with the damnable things.

Fred and George quietly cast silencing charms about their heads before they dove for the envelope and opened it.

All residents of the hamlet, Magical or not, were rather aware of the hills having a voice whenever Molly Weasley started yelling at her spawn. So it came as no surprise when the hills came alive with the sound of somebody shouting. What got their attention, however, was that first the voice was male while second a shockwave that came rumbling by shaking the houses all the way into town.

“MOLLY WEASLEY,” boomed Harry’s voice, nearly blowing the walls off of the load-bearing beams of the ground floor. Even with the silencing spells up the Twins heard the roar and felt it best to retreat. Ron had been send pin-wheeling through the air to land in the Swamp face first. Ginny, also sent flying, wound up in the old pig sty cum mud pit near the Orchard. Unseen by all the Wards around the house had shattered tripping alarms at the Ministry. “HOW DARE YOU TAKE WHAT IS NOT YOURS?! YOU NOR ARTHUR EVER TALKED, IN ANY MANNER, TO ME ABOUT PAYING YOU TO STAY THERE! IF YOU HAD, YOU WOULD’VE FOUND THAT I WOULD’VE FREELY HELPED YOU! INSTEAD YOU STEAL FROM ME, JUST LIKE THAT FOSSIL! AND DON’T THINK FOR A SECOND I HAVEN’T HEARD WHAT YOU DID TO HERMIONE! DON’T BOTHER REPLYING, AS YOUR OWL HAS HAD ENOUGH OF YOU AND DECIDED TO RETIRE!”

About half way through the rant –which being somewhat nonsensical showed Harry’s state of emotion- a company of Auror’s led by Amelia Bones arrived followed by Arthur Weasley. For a moment it almost sounded like young Potter was in the house himself and his magic was what had shredded the Wards. Inside they found the flaming remains of a Howler which caused more than a few raised eyebrows.

Molly was slumped over by the stove, ears bleeding from the level of volume involved. The Twins came in through what would have been the back door, dragging Ron and Ginny in their disheveled –read as: muddy and smelly- states.

While Harry wasn’t the articulate letter writer/Howler composer that Molly was, he’d apparently gone for sheer destructive power –or perhaps, as Shacklebolt would say about Dumbledore: “Style”- behind his missive. The Auror’s, including Bones, were at a loss to explain just how he’d managed to cram so much magic into a letter that not only caused physical damage it destroyed Wards with relative ease.

“What brought this on?” the Director of the DMLE asked the room at large, after noting that the Twins had dropped their shields. The answer she got was the amplified rendition of the 1812 Overture from three different arses- literally. Complete with cannon blasts that launched whomever’s turn it was across the remains of the ground floor.

“I see,” was all that Arthur Weasley could say, having already tried a dozen ‘Finite’ counters. While he was well aware of the fact that as Harry had more power than he did he stood little chance of canceling the rather embarrassing yet somehow completely accurate ‘music’, he still tried for pride’s sake. Something felt off about the magic though, almost as if . . .

“Where did you pick this curse up from?” wondered Kingsley Shacklebolt, whom was doing his absolute professional best to keep from laughing. Tonks –brought along as a training mission- had already retreated outdoors with the other Aurors, unable to duplicate his amazing feat of bravado.

“Gringotts,” one of the Twins got out amidst their own bout of laughter, each supporting the other to remain standing to the point telling them apart was impossible. “They tried to get into Harry’s Vault, turns out he locked them out with style!”

Those left indoors were disturbed when the Overture ended only to be replaced by Ride of the Valkyries.

“Goblin magic, yikes!” Amelia couldn’t help herself when she shivered, having more knowledge to add to the ‘reasons pissing them off is a BAD IDEA’ list. Nobody, not even that shark Umbridge, was as creative with punishments as those fiends that –pun intended- gobble up pain and suffering like the finest food and drink. They were at least made to see reason why open warfare was a bad idea with the growing numbers of Muggles about so a compromise was reached.

Make them the bankers with the power to ruin as they see fit. Of course, the rare human that figured out how to treat a Goblin got ‘perks’ like even dealing or, as this case proved, ‘extra’ security on the Vaults that all but insures a ruined reputation. There was no way to avoid it now, not with the Public Session starting on Monday. Part of that Session was her reports on crime rates broken down into the offenses versus persons involved.

What was left of the Weasley reputation just got flushed down the toilet. Wow, bad pun there.

“Why were they trying to get into his Vault?” Arthur demanded of his non-cursed children, getting a feeling that he was going to have to recall Bill and Charlie from abroad before word of this mayhem spread. Ooh, as if Percy didn’t have enough reasons to complain . . .

“Dunno,” George replied, having heard the Head of House voice from his father for the first time in a long time instantly sobering him up. “We stayed in the lobby, thinking they were going to our Vault. When they came back five minutes later Mum was in full Rant Mode at the poor cart driver, screaming at him about accessing Vault Six-Eighty-Seven. From there it was a mad dash to the Cauldron as the . . . ah, ‘curse’ . . . produced the sounds of Dueling Banjos making them look like Blowfish.”

Shacklebolt made a face at that information, being well aware of what Banjos sounded like to the Goblins. Amelia was no better, and was even contemplating Secrecy Oaths lest this make the Gossip Vine that was the Ministry.

“After coming back here, Mum decided to send Harry a Howler to which we,” Fred took over, having noticed that if George was serious something was afoot, “meaning us, Ron and Ginny objected to. They at least have the fear of being around Harry ten months of the year at Hogwarts; Mum doesn’t. Harry, it seems, was rather put out by that.”

“Well Potter obviously knows about our involvement,” Ron chimed in at last, finally coming back to his senses and revealing that the latest gas attack had passed . . . oh, the irony in that. “When Hedwig got here we were outside flying. That ruddy bird turfed Ginny and me before diving into the kitchen to smack Mum about the head with her wings. Once that Super-Howler whatever came loose from her leg she took off like a . . .,” he trailed off, slowly turning his head to the left to see said Owl looking rather balefully at him from what was left of the living room window frame.

“Oh crap,” came from Ginny, surprising the others as she put another piece of the puzzle together. “She was his familiar before his Maturity, and was in the room with him when his Core surged if his relatives followed their usual pattern and locked him in that tiny room beforehand. That would’ve exposed her to the wild magic of a sudden Maturity . . .” She would never know just how close to the truth she was.

The occupants of the house, minus the still unconscious Molly, were looking at the bird that had cranked the baleful look up to maximum glare.

One that was powered by green eyes.

“Yep, he’s listening,” George offered unnecessarily. “Uh, Harry, you do realize Fred and I had nothing to do with this, right?”

Hedwig/Harry’s head bobbed in a nod, before the bird simply faded away without moving.

Same time; Potter Battlements

Hermione and Luna were getting worried about Harry, as he’d stopped all conversation then movement as he drifted out of focus, mind somewhere else. Dinner, up to that point, had been going rather well as they talked about non-consequential things like the coming School letters and the World Cup.

“HA!” came from his mouth, even though he was still not focusing on the duo on either side of him. He was seated at the head of the table, the end furthest from the doors as was traditional so that the Lord of the Manor never had his back to his guests. At Hogwarts, were he to sit in the same place, he’d be at the end nearest the Staff table. The teachers were doing more than supervising the children, they were showing their power over the masses that attended and prevented assassination attempts by being so far away from the doors.

In the Feudal sense Dumbledore was playing the part of the magnanimous Lord by providing the food and overseeing his charges. Granted, once they graduated they no longer had to ‘serve’ said Lord unless they wanted to.

Hedwig phased into being on her perch, her dinner awaiting her and Harry came back to himself.

“That was distinctly odd,” he drawled, occasionally shaking his head as if removing disorientation.

“What was?” Hermione wondered, having stopped eating at the same time Harry did. While it was more out of worry for her closest friend-that-was-to-become-more, it also observed the proprieties of decorum.

“I don’t know how I did, but I,” he paused, looking for the right word, “shared experiences with Hedwig while she was at the Burrow. We know the Gingers wanted to do some shopping today, thus the Howler for discovering my little surprise. I was watching the fallout after my return shot. Seems I overpowered my response and collapsed the Wards along with demolishing the ground floor. Aurors led by Bones herself showed up followed by Arthur. This is not going to end well for them, since Dobby was able to get a copy of Molly’s Howler before it disintegrated.”

“Ooh, if there was enough power to collapse the Wards,” Luna actually swayed in her seat in awe, “then the other families in the area felt the wave of magic as it washed over them. The Mundane’s homes in Ottery St. Catchpole itself probably shook a bit too. Good thing that they are already aware of the ‘screaming hills’ or the Ministry would be going bonkers.”

“So why won’t it end well for them?” Hermione was confused, by all accounts Harry was the one about to be in trouble.

“Because with the Public Session on Monday Amelia Bones has to deliver her bi-annual crime statistics,” Harry had resumed eating, and had to swallow before answering. “The fact that the three were cursed in Gringotts by the Goblins for attempted theft is going to wipe whatever respect they had off the map. Plus that said theft was targeted at me, followed by a Howler for stopping it, is going to be very costly to them. Think Slytherin for a moment, they got caught red-handed in the cookie jar then lashed out at the one that caught them yet the retaliation brought the whole thing to light. Now nobody’s going to want to work with, or for, a Weasley for fear of damaging their own reputation. Not even Dumbledore can survive such tarnish, to which he’ll cut them loose with massive ‘disappointment’ as that’ll expose that I’m onto him. Still, any ‘status’ they had, Weasley or Prewitt, is toast.”

“To be Devil’s Advocate,” Luna expounded, letting Harry eat more of his dinner, “this whole thing could have been swept under the rug as a prank gone wrong between the Houses Potter and Weasley to which the Goblins could wash their hands of no problem. Since Molly had to be . . . well, Molly, now they have to report their findings to the DMLE which will implicate Dumbledore. The Chief Warlock is not going to like that at all to the point he may make moves to force them out of Britain as a whole. The elder brothers are going to lose their careers, the youngest their tuition to Hogwarts unless Harry himself steps in.”

“The Twins are innocent in this mess,” Hermione surprised Harry by defending them before he could. “They were very sympathetic to me last year after Ron and Molly had their bout of stupidity, even though they couldn’t help me beyond targeting those that picked on me a bit more than usual in their pranks.”

“No worries, they told ‘me’ as much,” Harry gestured at Hedwig whom had dozed off contently with a full belly. “Arthur looked appalled by the actions of his wife and youngest, so if need be I’ll take them under my banner. Bill and Charlie as well, for I wouldn’t want them to suffer for something they had no control over. Percy is a lost cause to me. I’ve seen him orbiting Fudge from afar –Department of International Cooperation- of late, meaning he might have already picked a patron if everything went wrong like it has. He’ll survive the tarnish to his name for that reason alone. Arthur will have to deal with Molly, Ron and Ginny. I can’t exclude them from the tuition by way of ‘what’s good for one is good for all’ tradition. Molly has nothing to offer, even if she makes an attempt at redemption.”

The three ate is silence for a bit, having talked themselves out for the time being. Harry had time to reflect, which brought the Life Debt issue back to the forefront to which he asked the only (living) Pureblood in the Battlements about.

“Life Debts are a rarity,” she answered after several minutes of thought, “mostly due to the fact that Magicals as a whole are selfish. Even those dubbed as ‘Creatures’ such as the Centaurs, Goblins, Fae and what have you primarily look out for themselves first. Case in point, the last known Debt of this magnitude was around the Founders Era, circa Nine-Ninety AD or so. You do realize that everyone -including me- who was in the Castle during the Chamber Fiasco owes you, even those that were petrified? If you hadn’t killed the Basilisk, instead just destroying the Diary, it would have stormed the halls looking for food and for a thousand year old beast several hundred children was just the ticket. Ginny needs no explanation as to her Debt. Then there’s the rumor I heard about you taking on a Troll in your first year, followed by yet another defeat of You-Know-Who which again indebts the entire School. On top of all of that, no matter how hard to believe it is, was your original defeat of Riddle in Eighty-One. One thing to understand is that talk had begun to circulate in Seventy-Five that he was going to enslave or wipe out everybody. He wanted no challengers to his power, and the only way to insure that would be through total dominance or being the only one left alive. The Death Eaters, dumb as they are to have originally joined his ranks, figured it out when he started ordering whole Pureblood families destroyed, no matter their alignment. Several of them, long since dead for their ‘betrayal’, had expressed their concerns to those that were fighting them and the Neutrals thus proving their point. Amazingly, Abraxas Malfoy was one of those detractors after watching his only son be mentally destroyed and rebuilt in Riddle’s image. His death, and note the pattern here, was ruled Dragon Pox.”

“Amazing,” Hermione was completely awed at the font of information sitting across from her on Harry’s left. “Just how do you know all of that?”

“The Lovegood family have been reporters, investigators and researchers for generations on top of being Spell Crafters, Seers, Potioneers, Warders and whatnot. We are also known to be listeners of the Vine, rarely speaking out.”

Dinner finished from there with little conversation as the three digested the information. It was closer to the girls heading home that Harry asked the all important question.

“What can I do with these Debts?”

While there were ideas, due to the rarity of them there were no solid answers even from the Portraits of the era in question. The only way to know for certain would be to call a few in to see what happened.

“Right,” he closed out the debate, “tomorrow we explore the grounds, and Sunday we’ll be taking most of the day to get ready for the Dinner. The letters from Hogwarts should be here on Monday and we can go shopping any time before the World Cup on the 27^th. I got us the best seats in the stadium, midfield in the luxury boxes.” He wasn’t about to tell them just how much that had cost, even if he made money hand over fist on a daily basis. “Then we can relax until the First, before heading off to yet another year of fun and laughter in Hogwarts.”

The girls didn’t fail to notice the sarcasm at the end of his little speech before they floo’d away.

Being on the Wizengamot had its advantages, as well as drawbacks. He knew, from having to listen to Dumbledore in the Closed Session, about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. It took legislative approval to import nesting female dragons after all far less their clutches. The security around those eggs was ridiculous to the point of making Gringotts look tame.

What bothered him was his track record. Two years, two brushes with death . . . even being emancipated as he was, he was still all of fourteen years old. He knew he didn’t have even close to the knowledge needed to compete let alone survive in the Tournament and his gut was screaming at him that he would have to do just that.

Due to secrecy he couldn’t even tell his two closest companions. Sure, he could drop hints like if they owned brooms –or played Quidditch- to leave them at home, not that he was going to follow that advice in the least. He could even leave books about the Tournament laying about, not that it mattered as the last one was two centuries previous thus only providing historical data while doing the same to books on Dragons could be interpreted as an interest in the beasts.

Heaving a sigh of frustration, he set off for the Library to at least get every book on the Tri-Wizard he had out. If nothing else, he could –no, should bring these along to Hogwarts as a precaution.

0800 August 13; Potter Battlements

Having a lay in was nice, Harry reflected as he ate breakfast. It was different to awaken at a decent hour instead of five in the morning. He knew the girls wouldn’t be by for a couple more hours yet as he’d declared today was a day of relaxation; he was dressed very informally in khaki slacks and a pull over tee shirt. He also had no plans or desires to don robes of any type today if he could help it.

A quick check of the mail revealed his statements from Gringotts. Gripsack was making money on the stock exchange it seemed, using that eye for detail Goblins had for spotting trends in the markets. He’d also bought up shares of several companies on a permanent basis to provide stability in case of a market crash. Ragnok hadn’t been kidding, the returns were exponential to the point the Potter wealth alone was entering the trillion range. Knowing that the economy would need a boost sooner or later Harry ‘quilled’ a message to his account manager to donate the equivalent of one billion Galleons to all medical services in the Commonwealth Magical and Mundane. That should ease the costs of healthcare for a bit, freeing up funds to be spent on frivolous things as he’d also included a stipulation that the donation had to be used as intended and not line somebody’s pockets otherwise he’d wind up owning the system from the resulting lawsuit. Heh, he thought, even the Dark families understand that the economy can make or break them. No wonder they make ‘donations’ to the services.

Thoughts of a scheme involving his active gold and silver mines came into play, but as the US Commodities Exchange wasn’t coughing up Dollars hand over fist for precious medals the conversions would either simply balance out or in fact lose him money. Well, if he did it legally that is. He knew he could, if he wanted to, melt down the vast amounts of coins in his Vaults to the base minerals then sell by the ton but seeing as in how that would anger the Goblins he gave it up as a bad job.

For the future, perhaps . . .

The rest of his correspondence was more confirmations about the Pact Dinner Sunday evening, with a Daily Prophet and Quibbler thrown in for good measure. He read both with a grain of salt, not fully buying into any article in either publication yet using them to keep up with the goings on in Magical Britain once he decoded the truth from the rubbish.

“Humph,” he grumbled to nobody, “so they noticed Malfoy Senior is missing did they. Yeah, this could be a problem on Monday.”

Having finished breakfast, and idly noting in the sports section that Puddlemere crushed Chudley yet again, he set off to the living room to continue his reading while waiting for the girls to arrive. The portraits, while occupied this morning, were leaving him be for the time being.

At ten ‘til ten the floo flared and Hermione stepped through, prompt as usual. Her arrival prompted Harry to get up from his chair and move just as Luna came tumbling out, this time missing him in her leap into the wingback. He did take note that the pair were in top-of-the-knee-length skirts and light blouses, even though he’d specifically told them they’d be out and about on horseback today.

Well if they asked a transfiguration would fix that problem, otherwise he was going to keep his mouth shut for he was taking notice that yes, they were girls. Banishing his post and the papers to his office, he led them outdoors to the stables.

“At least the weather is behaving,” he commented offhandedly for lack of anything better at the moment. It was a rather nice morning out, not much in the way of humidity which considering it was summer on an island nation was saying something.

Upon arriving at the stables the three were surprised to find a mated pair of Nightmares and Hell Stallions. The emotion was more from the sheer size of the beasts in comparison to say, a typical Arabian or even a Clydesdale instead of the fact that they were closer to the Dark variety that the Ministry loved to punish people for owning. Then again, it was more apparent that the Potters as a whole had the tendency to ignore things like rules and regulations in every category; be it in possessions, Magic or anything else that defined ‘normal’.

The beasts themselves were beautiful –or magnificent, depending on whom was asked- despite being borderline creatures. The ‘Mares stood close to fifteen hands while weighing in at just over eight hundred kilos while the Stallions measured closer to eighteen hands and a thousand kilos. Both had coats of the darkest black, like trying to look past the event horizon of a black hole and living flame –just a few shades lighter that the coat- in place of the manes and tails complimented by eyes the color of brimstone. The bodies of the magical horses were packed with muscles, making them quite large and in charge indeed.

While Hermione and Luna were awe-struck at their mode of transportation for the day to explore the grounds, Harry felt a pull from what would be the Alpha Stallion in a wild herd. His magic was singing at him to do something, but what in particular he didn’t know off of the top of his mind. He did take note of another mated pair of Abraxans and yet another pair of Aethonan –of the Greek pantheon- that were not prepped for any journey enjoying their ‘breakfast’ in the barn.

Reaching out with both hands, he traced the long snout of the Hell Stallion with his fingertips. The beast at first started from the unusual contact, almost rearing onto the hindquarters to attack with the forelegs. What stopped the reaction, however, was the gentleness that Harry used in essentially ‘petting’ the head from just below the eyes to the nose and mouth. Then the contact was gone as what the Stallion knew to be the owner and rider for the day backed away.

Hermione and Luna were watching this interaction, intrigued at what Harry was doing. It became apparent when their vision blurred while looking at him, before he was replaced by another Hell Stallion. This one looked distinctly odd, a instead of the brimstone eyes they were the more normal looking bulbous variety and green. Strangely, the living flame above the right eye in front of the ear was in the shape of a white lightning bolt.

The new magical horse was also a fair bit smaller than the other two males that were now wearily eyeing the newcomer. He -a quick glance by the girls left no doubt in that department- was only about a dozen hands tall and roughly five hundred kilos.

“Harry?” Hermione tentatively inquired, having the sudden thought of a previous vision-blur in her first year at Hogwarts.

The small Stallion started prancing around, tossing his head about in excitement while dancing around the pair of girls. Having felt something smacking against his belly, the colt –which was true enough seeing as Harry was still a juvenile- trotted over to the low wall surrounding the paddock before rearing up and using it to prop his front end up; from there he managed to stuff his head between his forelegs to see what the issue was.

Luna finally came back to herself after looking at the size of Harry in ‘horse-mode’, blushing severely and lightly shaking from the tingly feelings down below. When she saw what he was up to, she started heading in his direction for she knew that he surprise was going to be as great as hers had been.

Sure enough, before the blonde could get there, Harry had seen what was flopping around back there and promptly lost his footing on the wall. It was comical, in a way, to watch as he fell forward before impacting the stonework in slow motion. The hit was enough to cause a reversion to human form . . .

And for a surprise in the form of twenty new Harry Potters appearing from nowhere.

“Now this is ridiculous,” Hermione grumbled as she made her way over to the original Potter, who appeared to be shell-shocked from both his previous discovery and hitting his head on granite. “It’s supposed to be the victim of blunt force trauma that sees double or more, not the onlookers.”

Luna hadn’t been idle in her latest bout of surprise, instead helping Harry to his feet as the other . . . well, him selves looked on in wonder. The group of raven haired teens were already gathering around in independent discussion and stealing glances of mostly the girls and the lone self that was being tended too.

“Ooh, I do hope that dangly carries over,” Hermione heard Luna whisper to her but didn’t bother to reply verbally for the blush on her face spoke volumes.

“How’s the head?” she asked, before her blush intensified from the entendre. That little bit of wishing on Luna’s part had gotten her awakening hormones to explode into activity and reproduction.

“I’m fine Hermione, Hermione, Luna, Hermione, Luna and Luna,” he said stoically, before slowly shaking his head. “Although this seeing triple is a bit of a bother; what gets me is that I swear I see a group of me over there looking at me.”

“Uh, there is a group of you over there,” Luna reassured him. “They appeared after you tried to self-induce a coma. So, no, you’re not going ‘round the twist as it were.”

“Ah,” he did his Dumbledore impersonation, as if he’d just be handed the secrets of the Universe on a silver platter. “That’s good to know Second Luna. Third Luna, I slipped off the wall; this wasn’t intentional!”

“Dobby!” Hermione called, knowing Harry had a concussion at the least. As soon as the Elf appeared, and to keep him from totally twigging out on there being so many Great Harry Potter Sirs about, she directed him to take the one that was leaning on her up to his suite and put him to bed.

“Well, doesn’t that put a crimp in our plans for the day,” Luna felt she had to state the obvious, even though the crowd of Harry’s gathered around her and Hermione.

“Back to the living room,” Hermione quickly directed, not wanting to be bombarded with questions that she’d have to answer twenty different ways from the same brain. It felt strange, she reflected on the trip indoors, to have the crowd all bearing the face of her best friend surround her and Luna like bodyguards.

“This is surreal,” the flanking Harry spoke, not looking around at the surroundings giving away that he knew of them and was comfortable enough to talk. “I mean, I know I plowed into that wall but instead of hurting I found myself with my selves standing five meters away looking on in confusion. Ooh, even trying to describe this is hard.”

“Well, try transforming into that Stallion again,” Luna offered, her mind almost blank at the possibilities this new power presented. “See if whatever this is, is a complete duplication or something else.”

“I’ve never come across a reference to either power before,” Hermione immediately stated after feeling twenty pairs of eyes bear down on her. The fact that they were all that shade of green that varied depending on his mood within that familiar face was definitely creeping her out.

The group of Harry’s moved onto the lawn and each worn identical expressions of concentration as they attempted to change. It didn’t take long before there was a herd of Hell Stallion colts near the front door, each now prancing about with a little less bounce to ensure nothing moved too much.

It was at the five minute mark of the prancing that the herd started to shrink noticeably, each disappearing in motes of magic before the last was gone leaving the girls by themselves. Taking advantage of that, they headed up to the Master Suite to check on Harry.

When they arrived, they were greeted to the sight of Poppy Pomfrey shaking her head in disbelief before catching sight of them.

“Mister Potter seems to need my attention more and more,” she said by way of greeting, “even if it’s by Elf transport at home. I’ve given him a potion for the concussion and a Dreamless Sleep so that when he wakes he’ll be right as rain. Do inform him that while I wouldn’t mind catching up over a cup of tea at the Castle; he need not be hurt in any way, shape or form to do so and while I appreciate the trust he shows in me, I don’t make house calls on a regular basis.”

“Certainly Madam,” Luna was quick to agree before Blubber appeared from Hogwarts to collect the Matron.

“Well, nothing to it now Luna,” her brunette companion said as she turned for the floo, “we should go. I’ve waited after Quidditch games enough to know he’ll be out until early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh pooh,” the blonde complained while grabbing a handful of the floo powder, “I was so looking forward to him giving me a ride too.”

It took the sole Granger child ten minutes to get her stuttering and spluttering under enough control to ensure she’d come out of the proper grate instead of winding up in Timbuktu.

0400 Sunday August 14; Potter Battlements

Harry shot out of bed like he’d been fired from a cannon, coming to from the Dreamless Sleep that Pomfrey number four had put him in yesterday. It was great, once he had his glasses on, that the room was in focus again. Feeling no ill effects like he was used to from his cousin Dudley, he knew that the concussion was gone to which he felt he had to get Pomfrey a fruit basket or something. That woman spent more time putting him back together than the King’s Men with Humpty Dumpty it seemed at times.

Going through his home made test to insure that yes, everything was back to operational status he waved his hand in front of his face at varying speeds. Seeing no after-images he pronounced himself cured before casting the Tempus charm silently.

“Four in the morning,” he grumbled, before the date came to mind. With his losing bout with the wall, the girls had missed out on a chance to explore the grounds before he became busy again. Deciding that it wasn’t the end of the world, and knowing he had a dinner party to prepare for, he got the day started as much as he didn’t want to.

From that moment on, he was so busy that the time flew on by. Between the Elves, Hermione and Luna they had the place looking more like an inviting Palace than its namesake of a genuine fortress. There had been five scuffles in the kitchen between him and his ‘employees’ as he wanted to prepare some of the food but the Elves wouldn’t hear of it. Compromise didn’t even seem to work, leaving him scratching his head every time he tried.

Then he decided, in a stroke of sheer brilliance in his own mind, to flood the place with himself.

Hermione and Luna were treated to the oddest thing either one had seen in their lives at that point. They were headed into the kitchen to try to get Harry outside to relax when the door slammed into the wall and a tangle of Elves and Harry Potters came tumbling at them. The girls had enough time to scream before being enveloped in the mayhem that carried the lot up the stairs and into the living room before the “little green men” took advantage of the situation to vanish back into the kitchen.

For all of that, Harry still lost the argument. Instead of huffing about it though, he found his ability to laugh at himself for a backfired plan which the girls were more than happy to join in on before they each slugged a shoulder for dragging them into the mess.

1800; Potter Battlements

The time for the dinner had arrived, and Harry suddenly found himself without his bravado. Thanking all that was Holy that the Magicals were way behind the times to the point handshakes were not an acceptable greeting in this situation –bowing was instead-, he wiped his sweaty palms on his inner robes for what felt like the fiftieth time in an hour. He did send mental thanks to Hermione and Luna for attempting to calm him down earlier in the day; now however he desired them by his side to get him through what was to come.

Nothing for it, he thought as the floo flared to life bringing forth the first of the guests. He’d made use of some of his newfound intelligence to alert all of the invitees to come at a specific time that was five minutes apart from those before and after them so that the floo wouldn’t get clogged. He didn’t allow portkeys or Apparation due to not knowing exactly where in the country his residence was.

“Greetings Madam Bones; Lady Bones,” he managed to not squeak while bowing to the pair. “Welcome to my humble abode, please follow Dobby to the dining room. Dinner will begin in an hour then we’ll discuss what needs to be . . . uh, discussed.” Harry wanted to face-palm so much at that point; his opening speech and he flubbed it! This was going to be infinitely harder than he thought to accomplish.

Amelia and Susan Bones had chosen to match for this, wearing cobalt-blue colored robes made from crushed velvet that looked good on the pair. They also had their hair in single braided tails that were draped over their left shoulder.

Once they were off to where he’d told them to go, Harry let loose a groan of dismay before steeling himself for the next batch of travelers. If anything, this should prove that, yes, he’s still a teenager with much to learn about social situations like this.

So it went, the speech was refined for less awkwardness as he got into a groove repeating it over and over again. He could also hear the dull roar from the dining room as the number of people within climbed. He had more faith than knowledge that there would be no fighting between his guests just so that they wouldn’t lose any face with the other families nor himself. Once the last of his guests arrived, he headed into the lion’s den with a forced smile never noticing his floo kick back a beetle that had tried to catch a ride on one of the Greengrass’.

There were a lot of girls in there around his age! Oh, the male population of Hogwarts was going to kill him when word got out . . . blast it all!

Having slipped into the room through the Lord’s Entrance near the head of the table he surveyed those that made it to his gathering. There was a collection of almost every walk of life present; the four Houses of Hogwarts, “Light” and “Dark”, Pure-Blood elites, Half-Bloods so on and so forth. There was only one First-Born present in the form of Hermione and she had staked her place on his right while Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood took up the first and second chairs on his left respectively.

“Right,” his voice dominated the room, commanding all attention upon his person, “first off we eat. I don’t particularly care what the topic of conversation is except what we’re here for after dinner. No rush on that, as I figure an hour is enough time to satisfy everybody. So, tuck in and enjoy.”

The dull roar of the diners reminded him of the Great Hall at Hogwarts as light conversation sprung up between virtually all of those gathered. He noticed that one of the few not being extra talkative was Augusta Longbottom and by proxy Neville. The large gathering had earned a frown from the Traditionalist woman, yet she held her piece for whatever reason.

Dinner came and went, followed by a large selection of desserts. Harry was trying to accommodate all tastes during this shindig, and for the most part was successful. Once the hour was up did the Elves banish the dishes to the kitchen and herd the crowd into the Ball Room where a raised dais was set up in front of enough chairs for everybody.

“Okay,” he directed traffic from the door, “there’s no ‘assigned’ seats here. I’m not going to hold one family as more important than another so please, pick a spot and sit.”

It was another ten minutes of people shuffling about to get them seated to their satisfaction while Harry stood behind the dais organizing what notes he had on the Pacts as they’d been bonded. He looked down at the chairs directly in front of him at Hermione and Luna, silently pleading for strength to get through this with minimal difficulty.

“Now then, before we start are there any questions?” he looked about those gathered, feeling like a Professor teaching a class. It was a feeling he found he liked, much to his surprise. Only two hands went up, Bones and Longbottom; to avoid offending Augusta more than she already appeared to be he called her first.

“If I may Lord Potter,” her voice was even; betraying nothing, “where are the Weasley’s? I know they too made a Pact with House Potter and find myself curious as to why they aren’t involved in this.”

“Really?” Harry did everything he could to hide his surprise as he shuffled through various parchments to find his Inheritance Test. “According to the Goblins, there’s not a Pact between my House and theirs. Even if there was, they’d be in violation for reasons that are not open for discussion. You’ll find out why tomorrow once the Public Session gets started. Madam Bones?”

“Why do this?” the head of the DMLE waved her arms about, encompassing the room. “We all would much rather prefer private, one-on-one meetings over this exposure.”

“To demonstrate, look about the room,” his answer came quickly, “you’ll note the large amount of people here. Every single Pact made with House Potter is represented here one way or another. If I did one-on-one meetings, we’d all be at this forever and a day. Some families would even be insulted at having to wait so long to be contacted by me to reaffirm the Oaths which has to be done before I hit seventeen. It matters not that I’m considered of age, those of the Pacts around my age are not and decorum demands it. This method here also let’s those of the Pacts know who’s in or not and to avoid as much conflict as possible. I believe I demonstrated that Riddle is still out there; eventually he’s going to find a way to be in a body again and once he does it’ll be pure anarchy. Everybody in this room, as the Pacts stand right now, has two options when/if a Dark Lord rises again: be neutral or fight alongside House Potter. We all know that magic will have something nasty in store for those that are Allied for attacking my House or its Allies. Now you know who the allies are.”

It made sense of a sort. Instead of this being a show of flexing muscle the young man was trying to prevent infighting if something bad happened. The explanation seemed rather long-winded and circular but it worked.

“Now then,” Harry continued to the room at large, “the original Oaths left little room to maneuver for renegotiation. Whatever your reasons for originally making the Pacts are your own, and -while I’ll never know why- my parents accepted those same Oaths. While I’d prefer not to go the route the wording dictates, there’s not much choice. I rather think it’s my father’s idea of a joke myself but nothing to do about it.” His face was slowly turning red as he talked, before he paused and actually took in the faces of those around him; he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Oh come on, not one of you told your children what you’ve set them up for?”

That caused Hermione and Luna to look around to take in the various looks of confusion, disbelief, and anxiety that they could see before looking at each other and suppressing laughter. It was beyond ironic as had the Weasley’s not broken their end of the Pact –if they’d had one at all that is- Ginny would be in this very room and imitating a rampaging bull.

“Somewhere a dead man is laughing at us,” Harry groused to nobody; he could almost hear the laughter of his father –forget his grandfather whom he could hear laughing form his portrait- as he tried to power through the situation he now found himself in. If that wasn’t enough he knew his mother was both laughing at him and chasing his father around for the results of this madness. He returned his voice to the previous level to address the room, “Since it falls to me to say it with this bloody lot of cowards not wanting to feel the wrath of their children: those families with daughters that made Pacts with House Potter essentially set it up as betrothals. How or why they went along with it is beyond me nor was it my idea. I’ve enough to deal with having to revive not only my House but Houses Black, McKinnon and a few others to remain nameless for the time being. As for those families with sons: whenever you have daughters they’re to marry a son of my House. Rubbish bollocks, I know but there’s not much we can do about it . . . for the time being. There are much bigger things to deal with between now and then. If our fearless leader hadn’t put a blanket oath on a certain subject I’d gladly tell you all about the upcoming year at Hogwarts and the madness that’s likely to follow. Since I can’t, well . . . anyhow, each and every Pact family in this room will at some point in time be related to House Potter; ruddy Oaths! Why the bloody hell did you people do this to my generation?!”

He stopped vocalizing his frustration and started pacing around like a caged animal, his magic reacting to his emotions causing the first three rows of chairs to spontaneously transfigure themselves into random junk including but not limited to: a lawn mower, a bicycle, a baseball bat, a kitchen sink, a statue of Dumbledore getting kicked in the groin, a javelin, another statue of Ron during his “Slug Puke-fest”, a knicker launcher, so on and so forth.

The people that had been sitting in those chairs gave indignant squawks of protest for suddenly having to leap for safety lest they find something poking their posteriors.

“Right, sorry about that,” Harry looked as surprised as everybody else at the mayhem he’d just caused, having tilted his head to the left and using his left hand to scratch his cheek. “It just gets me that desperation brew such stupidity. It’s not fair to the daughters/nieces here that would rather marry a single wizard for love and not obligation. Teenager’s fantasy my arse; it’s going to be a bloody nightmare is what it’s going to be between continuing lines, reviving others, weddings, children of our own and what-have-you. It gets even worse for the sons because they automatically have a betrothal for any future daughters that aren’t even twinkles in their eyes yet. For all of that, I’m still willing to go through with this not for my sake but rather the sakes of those that are finding out their parents gave them the shaft before they were even born. I’ve too much on my plate as it is, for example: Amelia and Susan may be standing in this room but because of the type of family theirs is, Edgar made House Potter in charge of House Bones. Works for Susan because she gets to keep her name; kind of screws Amelia because she can’t make any major moves in the name of the family without my approval. Things like that aren’t right; in fact they’re down right barmy. I said it once, I’ll say it again before we end this rather disastrous get together: the Pacts are not my idea, I did not ask for them but I will honor them if nothing else to eventually free the Houses tied to mine without magic itself getting upset at us for going our own ways. Now then, it’s late; I’m certain we’re all getting tired and cranky. If you can, be at the Public Session of the Wizengamot starting tomorrow to understand some of what I’ve rambled about.”

With that, he led the group to the floo in the living room and bid each individual a good night, even if he got an evil eye or two for the way he’d imploded as a Head of House. Those that he went to Hogwarts with were far more sympathetic to his plight, offering a kind word and a genuine if small smile in return for his consideration of their feelings.

Once everybody else was gone, including Hermione and Luna as they’d curfew to be home for, did he give in to the urge to face-palm and let loose a loud groan of dismay.

That could’ve gone so much better, he thought.

TBC

Now for an explanation to Harry’s actions: he’s fourteen and acting like it for a change. He’d managed to get through the Wizengamot because of the fact he’d time to relax, think, recharge and then plan his way through while managing to disconnect his emotions. Like everybody else, his patience eventually ran out and at the worst time possible.
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Magical Maturity