Chương 336: HPF81-90
Chapter 81
At the end, the goblin came through a small batwing
hip-height door and, with another gesture, had Harry
follow him through a full height door. As he did so,
Harry felt the effect of 'Fool's Downfall' wash over him,
stripping away his glamour.
Two guards and the teller goblin, stood just out of his
reach but well within reach of the two long halberds
the goblin guards were bearing as they stared back,
impassively.
"Well, Mister Potter," said the goblin. "You are who the
blood identifying ritual said you are. Follow me." And
the goblin spun about and continued to walk down the
long corridor.
Hurrying to catch up, Harry said, "Now that you know
who I am. May I have the pleasure of
knowing your name?"
There was another slight hesitation as the goblin
seemed to consider whether or not Harry had an
ulterior motive for asking. Then he almost grudgingly
replied, "Its Ripclaw, Mister Potter."
"Then I am pleased to make your acquaintance.
Well-met, Teller Ripclaw," Harry politely said. It was for
this sort of moment that Harry was grateful for the
long hours of chatting he had with Griphook at Shell
Cottage in the old timeline. If it wasn't that Griphook
was also curious, he doubted the tricky old goblin
would have told him anything about goblin society and
modes of greeting. He was using that knowledge now.
The goblin stopped and turned to him with a look of
combined suspicion and respect. Eventually, he said,
"Well-met, Mister Potter," before he continued on his
way.
Almost suddenly they stopped at a normal door, similar
to ones he'd already passed. Affixed at about chest
height was a small gold plaque. On it in engraved black
lettering was a single family name - 'Potter'.
'Sweet Merlin!' thought Harry, as Ripclaw rapped his
knuckles smartly on the door. To have your own
Account Manager demonstrated beyond any other
symbol just how rich and important the House of
Potter was to both the wizarding world and the goblins.
That simple plaque represented so much.
There was an almost growling bark sound from beyond
the door and Ripclaw opened it, leading Harry inside.
Stopping about five feet short of the single desk within,
with an older goblin sitting behind it, Ripclaw gave a
short bow and said, "The Heir Potter."
The older goblin looked up at him as Ripclaw left and
barked, "And just where in Grognuk's name
have you been, Mister Potter? Time and again we have
sent you requests for you to come and visit us, and you
have ignored each and every one of them!"
Calmly, Harry said, "Before you start ripping strips off
me and rendering them down for potions ingredients,
perhaps you should first start by telling me who you
are."
Pausing for another furious glare, the old goblin used a
slightly lower volume to growl, "I am Senior Account
Keeper Sharpclaw. Now, perhaps you can explain to me
your actions."
Spying the single chair sitting before the desk, Harry
indicated it and asked, "May I? I have somewhat
distressing news to impart to you."
Sharpclaw gave a short sharp nod but continued to
glare at Harry as he calmly made his way to the chair
and sat down.
"It will distress you to know, Senior Sharpclaw, that my
owl mail... contrary to my prior knowledge until a
couple of days ago... has been redirected away from
me," Harry calmly replied. "A couple of days ago, and
immediately after I forced him to do so, I had Albus
Dumbledore show me to where my mail has been
redirected by him. It is all, currently, stored in one of
the abandoned parts of the Hogwarts castle. In a
storeroom there, there are literally thousands of items
of my illegally undelivered mail sitting on shelves
waiting for me to go through. That includes all mail
sent to me from Gringotts."
Staring back with an almost murderous look at Harry,
Sharpclaw asked, "Do you mean to tell me that Wizard
Dumbledore has been intercepting your mail and
redirecting it to a different location against your
wishes?"
"I do," Harry calmly replied. "However, he had himself
recognised as my magical guardian by the Wizengamot.
And he told me he feared those with ill-intent towards
me may have attempted to use owl mail as a way to do
me harm. However, while his stated intentions are
good, his execution of those intentions... shall we say...
leave a lot to be desired."
"It is both illegal under wizarding law, and a breach of
treaty, to intercept Gringotts mail!" Sharpclaw barked
back, furious all over again.
"And barking at me like a mangy dog might make you
feel better, but accomplishes nothing!" Harry shot right
back.
Sharpclaw stared back at him with a look of shock for a
moment, as Harry matched him stare for stare, before
he burst out laughing. "Well reasoned, Heir Potter," he
finally, and lot more calmly, stated. "I take it you have
remonstrated with the old fool, and we can now expect
you to receive your mail?"
"You may. However, I'm going to ask... until I'm sure
the mail redirection has been removed... you send all
correspondence to me care of a Miss Hermione
Granger," Harry calmly replied. "And, now that you've
vented your spleen at me, perhaps we can get on with
both why you've sought my attendance, and why I
came in. Time is money, after all."
"That it is," Sharpclaw said, looking back at Harry with
something akin to awakening respect.
Over the next hour Sharpclaw provided Harry with a
folio of recent account statements for his three vaults,
spoke to the quite substantial Potter investment
portfolio - and his plans for it - and a listing of Potter
property. Of course, Harry couldn't access the two main
Potter vaults until he was emancipated. And he
couldn't tell Senior Sharpclaw his emancipation would
occur in only a matter of about six weeks. So, that had
to wait.
He did inform the goblin that he suspected he would be
emancipated 'on or about' the 1st of November. And
that that particular information was in the highest
confidence. "It is my intention at this time," he told the
goblin, "that I will be visiting you again on the 1st of
November, or very soon afterwards. At that time I
expect to have been emancipated. And I further intend,
at that time, we fully activate the Potter holdings,
vaults and all."
"You know something," the old goblin accused.
"Names for the champions for the upcoming Tri-Wizard
Tournament will be drawn on the evening of the 31st of
October," explained Harry. "The Ministry have made
the determination that only 'of-age' witches and
wizards may take part in the tournament. I believe my
name will be selected as a champion. If the Ministry
demands I compete, I believe they will have effectively
emancipated me. I intend to make use of that."
Chapter 82
Sharpclaw looked back at him with shrewd respect. "So,
you will come in here, fill out the emancipation
acknowledgement documentation... which I will, of
course, have prepared for such an eventuality... and
have me immediately submit them to the Ministry
through our normal channel of communication."
"Precisely," Harry replied, glad the old goblin
understood. "Plus, I am in the process of securing the
services of a law firm. I have a meeting with one such
individual this afternoon. That man, or woman or
another, will be providing legal counsel that can be
used to assist."
For his part, Harry had both Daphne and Hermione
'keyed' in to accessing his accounts, and asked for a
recommendation for a jeweller who was discreet. He
told the goblin he had every intention of placing
betrothal rings on the fingers of both his bondmates
the next Friday.
And, finally, he donned the Head of House ring for
House Potter; and immediately disillusioned it.
"This doesn't make me a Lord or anything, does it?"
asked Harry, a little worried.
With a very human-like snort, Sharpclaw replied, "Of
course not. From wherever would you get such an
idea?"
With a shrug and wry smile, Harry replied, "Just a
suspicion."
"No, Mister Potter," the goblin said. "Lordships and the
like are something the muggles do; not witches and
wizards."
Harry nodded back in acknowledgement before he
continued, "Now, there is one final matter I wish to
raise with you concerning what I suspect is a dark
magic item of the highest calibre being stored in one of
Gringotts's vaults. It is not in one of mine – and I had
neither control over its creation, or over it ever being
placed within your vaults; nor any control over it even
now. However, I'm aware that Gringotts, in general, will
be most distressed to learn of its existence - even more
so that it is within goblin holdings."
With a wary look back at Harry, Sharpclaw asked, "And
what and where would this dark magic item be?"
"The item is the personal potion chalice of Helga
Hufflepuff. It is known as Hufflepuff's Cup," Harry
further explained. "However, a wizard by the name of
Tom Riddle... and also known by the pseudonym of
'Lord Voldemort'... used it to convert it into a horcrux;
or, soul container.
"As for where it is; I'm led to believe it's currently in
the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange... here, at Gringotts."
"It's what?!" roared the old goblin.
Harry just cocked an eyebrow back, unflinching.
Sharpclaw jabbed a finger down on what appeared to
be a rune on his desk and barked at it in the 'Tongue' of
the goblins. Momentarily, there rapidly entered a
couple of minor level younger goblins.
Sharpclaw rapid-fire barked at them in the Tongue for a
few moments before they both looked quite angry and
shot back out the door. The old goblin then swivelled
his head to stare hard back at Harry. Harry sat with his
eyebrow still cocked and the barest hint of a smirk on
his face, calm as can be.
With a wary glare back, Sharpclaw asked, "And how did
you come to learn of this... abomination, Mister Potter?
Or, that it resides in one of our vaults, contrary to
Treaty?"
"Alas, I cannot... not will not... cannot say, Senior
Sharpclaw," Harry calmly replied. "I am bound not to.
Nevertheless, I know my information is accurate, as we
both shall soon learn."
A few minutes later, one of the two younger goblins
from earlier burst in through the doors. He ignored
Harry and, with a growl in his voice, said something to
Sharpclaw. Clearly, it was information confirming
Harry's 'bombshell'.
The two spoke for a few moments before the younger
goblin again departed and Sharpclaw, once more,
turned his attention to Harry.
"Your... information has been confirmed, Mister
Potter," stated Sharpclaw with disgust. "As punishment
for the witch who did this, the entirety of the vaults
will be confiscated. You will be awarded a ten percent
cut of the value of the contents as 'finder's fee' for the
information."
"Once the Cup has been 'cleansed' of the foul taint
upon it, I want possession of it," Harry quickly stated.
"As it belonged to one of the founders of Hogwarts, I
want to be able to return it to the school, so it may be
placed on display, at a later time."
Sharpclaw nodded back and said, "That can be done.
The value of it will, however, be deducted from the
finder's fee."
"Ninety percent of its value, you mean," mused Harry.
"After all, ten percent of its value is rightfully mine as
part of the finder's fee."
Sharpclaw stared back shrewdly for a moment before
he gave a firm nod of recognition of Harry's reasoning.
"As you state," he replied. "However, you will also be
charged the cost of removing the horcrux from the
object, in return."
Harry smiled and replied, "As you state, Senior
Sharpclaw." Harry then rose and said, "Time is money,
Senior; and I've taken enough of yours."
Not even moving from his desk, Sharpclaw replied,
"That it is, Mister Potter. I shall have the
parchmentwork ready for you by the 1st of November. I
also expect the Cup to be cleansed and ready for you to
pick up, by then."
With a slight bow, Harry said, "Well-met, Senior
Sharpclaw."
With the return acknowledgement in his ears, Harry
turned and left the office, heading back to the main
lobby.
Leaving the bank, Harry redonned his glamour in the
lobby and made his way directly to the address of the
jeweller Sharpclaw recommended. Entering, he
approached the storekeeper and informed her of his
needs.
"Three matching betrothal...?" the witch asked before
her eyes widened in understanding. "You're Harry
Potter!"
"This purchase is on behalf of Mister Potter," Harry
firmly stated. While he didn't lie, he knew the
storekeeper would jump to the wrong conclusion.
"Oh!" the storekeeper said. "And I may call you...?"
"Mister Evans," Harry muttered. Again, not another lie
as she never asked for his name; just a name to call him.
Harry now felt like he was 'channelling' Dumbledore.
"Of course, Mister Evans," she half-gushed. "This way,
please."
She led him over to one of her secured glass-fronted
displays and pulled out a long tray of rings similar to
how they were presented in the muggle way. She then
carried that, plus a second tray, to a counter top.
Chapter 83
With the use of twin bright overhead gaslights, she
held the trays angled up slightly to display them for
him. "These are our usual Ancient House style
betrothal rings," she explained. "Of course, we can also
do custom requests, if that is more Mister Potter's
preference."
Harry gave a light grunt in acknowledgement, and the
sale-witch continued.
"Of course, I know little about... Miss Granger, wasn't
it?" But, without waiting for confirmation, she
continued, "But we know the Greengrass family quite
well.
"If I recall, Miss Daphne has light blue eyes, a light
complexion, and light blonde hair. And I've heard Miss...
Hermione?... has brown eyes, I think, light complexion
and mid to chocolate brown hair. I do not know if we
have any rings that could easily match both ladies."
"That's okay," Harry replied, still looking down at the
trays. "I'm fully aware of what Mister Potter wants.
And he describes Miss Granger's eyes as chocolate
brown, the same as her hair."
Indicating one of the rings, he described, "He wants
something like that one for both ladies. Except he
wants a setting of three small stones of equal cut and
size in a closed shape. Each stone is to be an identical
heart-cut, or loveheart-shaped cut, with the points
pointing into the centre of the symbol so it appears like
a six-petalled flower. And a similar ring in a man's style.
If you have a spare small sheet of parchment, ink and a
quill I can draw it for you."
"Certainly," she said, moving to a small desk and
drawing the three items out of a drawer. She brought
them back and placed them for Harry's use on the
counter next to the trays.
Harry then carefully, drew the shape of three heart-cut
shapes with the bottom tip of each pointing into the
middle. It made a somewhat hexagonal shape of the
three stones.
Once he was completed he said, "Now for the stones,
themselves. For each ring, one each of aquamarine,
sunstone and emerald. For Miss Greengrass's ring, the
aquamarine stone is to be centre top; for Miss Granger,
the sunstone is to be centre top; and for Mister Potter,
the emerald."
Harry quickly drew two matching stone patterns and
named each stone according to what he'd just said.
Spinning it about so the witch could see what he meant,
he asked, "Is that clear enough for you?"
Bending over to look closer at the three designs, the
witch was frowning and replied, "Yes - yes, I believe it
is. You understand, of course, the stones will be a little
on the tiny side and it will still be expensive?"
"I do," Harry replied with a gentle nod. "These rings are
to represent the uniqueness of their three-way soul
bond, and to show one and all that they are genuinely
committed to one another."
"Yes; so it would," the witch said, now clearly
understanding what she was looking upon.
Looking back at Harry, she explained, "This will be
quite the unusual, if not unique, project I have ever
undertaken. Now, what metal do you want for the rings,
themselves?"
"White gold," he said. "I've been told their bonds
glowed silver with a slight pearl hue when they were
initiated, so that sounds like the perfect metal for the
ring."
"That it does," she smiled.
After getting a promise of discretion for the work and
who ordered it, a promise of a rush on the order - once
Harry offered a fifteen percent bonus if the work could
be done and delivered within a week - and an
advanced payment of the total amount of just over one
thousand galleons, Harry left the store with a bit of a
skip in his step.
His next stop took him down Knockturn Alley. Just as
he entered he raised the hood of his cloak and placed a
second glamour over his face that would give it a type
of blur and make his voice sound a little deeper and
menacing.
With an air of supreme confidence he made his way
down the Alley. Other witches and wizards, recognising
the stride of someone powerful, stepped out of his way
as he passed.
Finding the store he wanted, he entered.
At the counter, he pushed the little bell to summon the
store owner to the front of the store.
"Yes, sir?" asked the store owner, a wizened old man,
coming from behind a set of shelves behind the short
counter. There were no other customers.
"I need six auror-capable minimum quick draw wand
holsters," Harry firmly stated.
"Such are somewhat illegal," said the proprietor. "Ol'
Jimmy can be in lotsa troubles with the DMLE, if he
sells such a thing to you."
Leaning forward and speaking a little quieter but just as
firm, Harry said, "The Dark Lord will soon return. He
will reward those who have been of service."
The old man's eyes widened a little before he stuttered,
"O-of course, sir! O-one moment, please."
He quickly ducked back between the shelves and
returned with a plain unmarked small crate. He placed
it on the bench, quickly looked around, and removed
the lid.
Inside, Harry could see at least a dozen such holsters
rested within. He then reached inside and removed six
at random. "They are all in good working order?" he
demanded.
"Of course, Sir," the store keeper replied. "Hit Wizard
level and quality."
With a grunt, Harry asked, "How much?"
"O-one hundred galleons each, Sir," the man said.
Harry could see the man clearly did not believe his own
pricing. He snapped his hand out with his fast
Quidditch reflexes and grabbed the man by a fistful of
his robe lapels before dragging him hard against and
slightly over the counter.
"When I asked how much I did not expect to be so
insulted. Try again," he snarled. And shoved the man
back away again.
"Y-yes, sir; sorry Sir," the man stammered clearly
frightened. "Just a test, Sir. I-I'm sure you understand.
Harry just stood there silent and trying to look
menacing.
The old man nervously wet his lips and said, "F-Forty
galleons each, Sir."
"Thirty," Harry snarled. "For your insult."
Looking a little pained, the old man begged,
"Thirty-five, please, Sir."
Harry stood glaring at the man to make him sweat a
little more before he grunted in the affirmative. He
pulled two hundred and ten galleons from his pouch
and dropped the coins on the counter top. He hesitated
a moment before dropping another ten galleons on the
counter and said, "For a jar of holster polish and your
trouble."
Chapter 84
Quickly, the little old man reached under the counter
and pulled the required jar out, placing it on the
counter next to the six holsters.
Gathering the holsters and jar up, Harry dropped them
into one of his large inside pockets. Then, just before
he swept out of the store, he snarled, "I was never
here."
After he'd gone, the old man relaxed and muttered,
"Who was never here?"
Back out in the alley, Harry wended his way back to
Diagon Alley, stripped the second glamour away and
dropped his hood. He ducked in to Flourish & Blott's to
set up an account for both of his ladies. Then did the
same next door at Madam Malkin's and next door,
again, at Madam Primpernelle's. At each he also sought
to be placed on mailing lists. Thinking about it a bit, he
also added Twillfit and Tattings, the Owl Emporium and
a couple of other stores. Finally, he headed back to the
Leaky Cauldron, and Floo'ed back to the Three
Broomsticks.
Once in Hogsmeade he headed to Gladrags and created
an account for himself and both girls to use, then
ducked next door to Scrivenshaft's and did the same. In
both, he also sought to be added to their mailing lists,
too.
Once he was satisfied he'd accomplished what he
wanted to accomplish, he headed to the Shrieking
Shack, entered through the same rear window he used
to exit earlier, and took the hidden passage back to the
Whomping Willow.
A quick whack on the knot and he donned his
invisibility cloak to walk back to the castle.
Once inside, he found an empty alcove where he
removed the cloak and the glamour and made his way
back to the apartment.
Stepping inside, both witches grapple-hugged him with
soft cries of, "Oh Merlin, we were so worried! You're
okay, aren't you?"
"I'm fine," he calmly replied. As they backed off him,
and he made his way to collapse onto one of the
couches, he asked, "Now, what did I miss?"
"Nothing that we know of," replied Daphne. "We were
getting worried because it's almost lunchtime and you
weren't back."
"So, what happened?" Hermione asked. "Where did
you go? Did you get everything done you needed to?"
"I went into Gringotts where I got yelled at by the
Potter Senior Account Keeper for ignoring his mail to
me. I explained to him about the mail redirections and
asked him, just in case, to send everything to me care
of you, Hermione. And started the prep work for my
emancipation that's going to occur when my name
comes out of the Goblet.
"Oh, and as per one of my tasks, alerted them to the
Cup horcrux in the Lestrange vault. For doing so, they
awarded me ten percent of the contents as, what the
goblin called, 'Finder's Fee'. As part of that, I get the
Cup once they remove the horcrux from it. I should be
able to pick it up on the 1st of November."
"You didn't tell him how you know that's going to
happen, did you?" asked Hermione, a little worried.
"No, of course not," he replied. "I just implied I knew
my name would be selected. I did not tell him why I
knew.
"I then did a bit of shopping for things that'll be
delivered during the week. And set a few accounts up
at some stores. Then, I simply came back here, making
sure I wasn't recognised or spotted for the whole
time."
Both girls then looked relieved.
"What store accounts did you set up, Harry?" asked
Daphne.
With a smirk, he replied, "Well, first I set up my
Gringotts accounts to give both you ladies access. You'll
need..."
"You what?!" both girls practically shouted.
With a wince at the shout but still smirking, he
explained, "I set up my accounts with Gringotts to give
both you ladies access. We're bonded and we're going
to be married. This was the right thing to do."
"But, Harry," whined Hermione. "We can empty you
out; spend all your money; send you broke."
"For starters, he explained, "No, you can't. At least, not
right away. You only have access to the same vault I
currently have access to. And that's my trust vault.
"When my emancipation is recognised by the goblins
I'll have full access to the other two vaults. At that time,
I'll create individual family member vaults for the pair
of you. When we're married, I'll grant you access to the
rest, except for the specific Head of House stuff.
"As Daphne can attest, this is normal." Looking over at
the other girl, Daphne nodded. "And I'm going to set
up the family member vaults with a substantial
monthly stipend; so, you'll never want for anything. It's
my responsibility to make sure you are both financially
cared for; and I intend to be very good at doing that."
With an initial frown leading to a sigh and nod of
acceptance, Hermione asked, "And what other
accounts did you set up?"
"Well... since you're being so pushy to get the
information... it's something I was going to tell you as
part of your birthday present from me," he offered. "I
wanted to tell you that I'm going to treat each of your
birthdays as if it's also a birthday of the other. That is,
you'll both have birthday presents for Hermione's
birthday next Friday, and... actually, when is your
birthday, Daphne?"
"The 12th of May," she replied.
"Then from me you'll both receive birthday presents
for Daphne's birthday on the 12th of May." With a
chuckle he explained, "It makes it easier for me and I'm
not spoiling one of you over the other, even if it is your
birthday."
"Well, I won't say no to an extra birthday," Daphne
smirked.
"Or more birthday presents," Hermione added.
"Good," he firmly said. "Now, using the time I had, in
Diagon Alley I set up accounts for the three of us with
Flourish & Blott's, Madam Malkin's, Twillfit and
Tattings and, for you two, Madam Primpernelle's. On
my way back, I passed through Hogsmeade and set up
accounts for the three of us at Gladrags and
Scrivenshaft's."
"Wow," exclaimed Hermione, a little shocked.
"Just, wow!"
Daphne came over and plonked herself on Harry's lap
where she proceeded to give him a most intense but
short snog. Pulling back, she said, "What such a clever
and loving bondmate you are."
Not wanting to be left out, Hermione came over and
tapped Daphne on the shoulder. Daphne hopped off
Harry's lap and moved to sit beside him as Hermione
took her own spot on his lap. She, too, also gave him an
intense but short snog. "Yes, you are," she softly
agreed.
Chapter 85
"Alright. What else did you do?" asked Daphne, as
Hermione moved off his lap to sit on his other side.
"I bought birthday presents," he smugly replied. "And,
no; I'm not telling you what they are. Besides, since
some of it involved custom work, I'm not sure what's
going to arrive before your birthday, or not. You'll just
have to wait until next Friday to find out."
Both witches were clearly excited at this news. "Any
hints?" asked Daphne, while Hermione asked "If you
got multiple couldn't you at least tell us about one?"
"No and no," he said. "Besides, one of the gifts was the
access to my trust vault, and another was all the
accounts at the various stores both in Diagon Alley and
Hogsmeade. Do you really think I'd make use of
Madam Primpernelle's? Even though she does?
"No, ladies," he firmly explained. "You've already been
informed of, and given, two of them."
"But, Harry," Daphne mock-whined. "We can't use any
of those until the first Hogsmeade weekend, at least!"
"Ah!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "I knew I was
forgetting something." He reached into his robes and
withdrew a stack of folded parchment. "Ta da!" he
gleefully exclaimed. "Mail order brochures!"
No sooner had the words been uttered when they were
snatched out of his hand by Daphne, who quickly took
them back over to the other couch, lest Harry suddenly
snatched them back.
Just as she was sitting down, staring at her prize,
Daphne beckoned Hermione over to join her. Surprising
Harry, she did. And both of his bondmates happily
shared the brochures and talked about what they could
order.
Using the opportunity of their distraction, Harry quickly
ducked into his bedroom, pulled out the bottom
drawer of his chest of drawers, and dropped the wand
holsters within the now available hollow, before sliding
the drawer back. He'd try to talk to Dobby later, in
private, about getting them wrapped for him.
Walking back into the living room where the girls were
still going through the brochures, he returned to his
seat.
"Harry," complained Daphne. "You didn't pick up the
latest catalogues."
"There were catalogues?" he asked. "Well, I'm sure
Hedwig would love the work. Why not send her, asking
for them?"
The two witches glanced at each other for a moment
before Hermione suddenly said, "I'll get the
stationery," and quickly made her way to her room.
Hermione liked to keep her bag on her dresser cum
chest of drawers; while Daphne and Harry both kept
theirs on their personal bookcases in the living room.
After both witches had gone through writing letters to
the various stores and ordering the mail order
catalogues for each, Harry finally managed to get some
answers out of them about the scan of his personal
effects.
"Well," started Daphne. "There were tracking charms
on Hedwig and her cage, on your trunk, on your book
bag, on that small backpack you've got in the bottom
of your trunk, on your second pair of shoes, on your
photo album of your parents and their friends, on your
photo frame of the picture of your parents holding on
to each other, on your comb, and on that funny billed
cap you've got. I think that was it."
"Yes, I think it was," agreed Hermione. "And, I had
tracking charms on my trunk, my watch, Crookshanks's
basket, carrier and collar, my necklace, a couple of my
hair combs and my copy of Hogwarts: A History.
"They've now all been stripped away and stuck on
various fixtures and furnishings about the apartment."
"Between us," offered Daphne. "We're going to be
working on finding a charm that can be affixed to
everything that'll send us an alarm and issue a glow,
that only we can see, if any other charm is affixed to
anything."
"That would be brilliant!" Harry exclaimed. "Now we
just have to find a way to deactivate Twinkles's little
trinkets that are using blood-based magic to track me."
After a moment of shock, Daphne loudly exclaimed,
"He's what?!" Making both Harry and Hermione wince.
"I don't have any proof of it," he replied. "But, I'm
pretty sure he's using blood-based tracking on me. I'm
pretty sure some of those wheezing and whizzing little
gadgets in his office are monitors of me."
"Dobby!" Daphne near-snarled.
With a quick pop, Dobby appeared in the living room
almost frightened. "Yes, Miss Daffy?"
Seeing the state of the little elf, both other teens
watched as Daphne visibly forced her anger down.
Once she seemed to have managed to get control of
herself, she looked back at the elf and said, "Dobby, I
apologise. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry about
something else."
"Miss Daffy apologises to Dobby?" the little elf asked
almost awed and in tears. "The great Master Harry
Potter sir's Miss Daffy is almost as great a witch as
Master Harry is a wizard!" Then he seemed to break
down and cry.
Harry rolled his eyes.
"Dobby, please stop," she begged. "I need you to tell
me something important."
With a last few sniffles Dobby wiped his eyes on his
sleeve and asked, "Yes, Miss Daffy?"
"You can track the blood of your master, right?"
"Yes, Miss Daffy!" the little elf beamed. Harry started
to suspect the little fellow had a chronic and severe
case of Manic Depression.
"Excellent," she firmly stated. "The next time the
Headmaster is out of his office and private quarters,
can you sneak in and see if there's any of Master
Harry's blood in there? And report back to us if there is,
and where it is?"
"Dobby can do that," the little elf excitedly said,
pleased to be able to help, as it dawned on Harry just
how simple that was.
"Good, very good," Daphne sighed. "Thank you,
Dobby."
"Yous welcome, Miss Daffy," Dobby replied, before
popping away again.
"That's brilliant!" said Harry, a little in awe of how
smart his pureblood bondmate was. "Lunch?" he
suddenly asked.
"Good idea," replied Hermione, starting to rise.
The three headed back down to the Great Hall.
Chapter 86
As they did the previous weekend, the three were
waiting in the Entrance Hall for the arrival of the
solicitor for their 'interview'.
And, almost on the dot except for being a couple
minutes early, a somewhat middle-aged wizard walked
in the door with a younger woman. Both were carrying
business satchels.
As soon as his eyes alit on Harry, he stepped forward
and offered his hand. "Mister Potter? I'm Stewart
Ackerman, solicitor at law."
Harry shook the man's hand, who then turned to the
woman and said, "And this lady is Miss Margaret
Pentridge."
Harry surprised her by offering his hand for a
handshake. Then, he turned back to the man indicating
his bondmates and said, "And these two ladies are my
bondmates... Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Daphne
Greengrass."
"Miss Greengrass and I have met before," Mister
Ackerman explained. "However, it's a pleasure to
meet you for the first time, Miss Granger."
"Now," said Harry. "I'm afraid we're all going to have to
trudge all the way up to the seventh floor, Sir and
Ma'am. That's where our apartment is."
"No need to go that far, Mister Potter," replied Mister
Ackerman. "There's a conference room on the second
floor we can use."
"There is?" asked Harry, quite surprised. "Hmm... then,
I guess you'd best lead."
With a nod of his head, Ackerman led the way up the
stairs to the second floor and towards the north tower.
They'd not gone far when Ackerman spied a door and
said, "Here it is!" And pushed it open.
Inside was, indeed, set up as a conference room.
He and Miss Pentridge move to one side of the long
table and set their business satchels on the surface.
When Harry and the girls moved to the other side,
Ackerman drew his wand and began to cast, first,
detection spells around the room, before then casting
privacy wards. He also both locked and placed a
silencing bubble around the room's only portrait, even
though it was currently uninhabited.
When it looked like the two were finished, Daphne
muttered, "Just a minute." And went to the only door.
She first cast a strong door sealing charm with a
password protection on it, before also placing a
silencing bubble around it.
When she turned around she noticed the looks on the
faces of their two visitors. She calmly said, "The
Headmaster has been known to invite himself to any
and all meetings within the castle."
With a nod of recognition, the two visitors waited until
the three teens took their seats opposite before they
took theirs.
"Now, Mister Potter, Miss Greengrass and Miss
Granger," said Ackerman, nodding to each of them.
"Mister Greengrass has informed me you have need of
our services regarding a number of legal issues. He
informed us we would need to provide criminal case
expertise... that's me... and defamation expertise...
that's Miss Pentridge, here.
"However, he said we would need to talk to you, direct,
in order to understand the full scope of your legal
needs. Perhaps it would be best if you were to outline
for us what those needs entail."
"Yes, Sir," nodded Harry. "First, I'd like your
confirmation that what we're about to tell you is held
in confidence?"
"It is," Ackerman firmly replied.
"Good. To the criminal matter first, then. We need you
to, as quietly as you can, organise a trial for my
godfather, Sirius Orion Black," said Harry.
"The escaped mass murder?" Ackerman asked in
surprise.
"No, Sir," Harry firmly replied. "The escaped innocent
man; who was unlawfully tossed into Azkaban without
even a trial or proper questioning."
With a look of complete initial shock, the solicitor
stared back at Harry for a few moments before he
suddenly started to look quite angry. "You mean to tell
me that Sirius Black, the man who has a Kiss-on-Sight
order against him, never even had a trial?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying, Sir," replied Harry.
"Furthermore, the actual criminal is Peter Pettigrew;
the one to whom they supposedly issued a
posthumous Order of Merlin. He is both alive and is a
marked Death Eater. I've met them both.
"Sirius Black is my sworn godfather. If he had even
attempted to harm me, or cause harm to befall me, he
would be dead. That he isn't is proof, right there, that
he did not betray my parents and me to Riddle."
"Riddle?" asked Ackerman, a little confused.
"Sorry," grinned Harry. "Tom Marvolo Riddle;
Voldemort's real name."
Again, both solicitors stared back at him in shock.
Daphne chuckled and said, "Harry, I think you broke
them."
Ackerman snapped out of his stupefaction first and,
with a somewhat accusatory look, asked, "How do you
know this?"
"As to the first, as I said, I've met both my godfather,
Sirius Black, and Pettigrew," explained Harry.
"Pettigrew is an unregistered animagus; and his form is
that of a common brown rat. Until only a few months
ago, he's been hiding out as the pet of Ron Weasley; a
boy in the same year as us. Until recently Weasley was
both a friend and dorm-mate of mine.
"Sirius escaped from Azkaban because he saw a picture
on the front page of the Daily Prophet that showed the
Weasleys, who had recently won the Prophet's Grand
Prize Draw. Fudge threw a copy of that issue of
the Prophet at my godfather in his cell... while he was
doing his so-called annual inspection... to taunt him
with how the world was getting on without him.
"Instead, my godfather saw Pettigrew in his animagus
form being held in the hand of Ron Weasley, who was
standing with his family in the front page photograph.
Sirius put two and two together and figured out that I
was, at the time, sharing a dorm in Gryffindor tower
with the boy; and, therefore, the rat - Pettigrew.
"Sirius, as my sworn godfather, saw it as his duty to
immediately escape and come to my aid. Which he did.
"So, Sirius Black did not escape Azkaban with the
intention of coming to harm me; he escaped with the
intention of coming to protect me, as he was sworn to
do."
When both solicitors nodded back, understanding, he
continued, "As to the second, how I know Riddle and
Voldemort is one and the same person..."
"Hold it," interrupted Ackerman, holding up his hand.
"We'll get to He-Who... Merlin, V-Voldemort in a
moment."
Chapter 87
He then opened his satchel and drew forth parchment,
ink and a quill, and set to writing. "I need to get down
the details about Black, first," he muttered.
As he wrote he asked more and more specific questions.
And, once he was finished, he slid the parchment aside
and leaned back.
"So," he began. "Crouch, on the orders of Bagnold, just
threw Black into Azkaban. As far as you know, there
will be no record of questioning, archive of evidence, or
even a record of trial. Black is, in fact, innocent; and,
even if he wasn't, he should still be free because he
was never tried and found guilty.
"You've met the man; most recently last June in the
Shrieking Shack, here, in Hogsmeade. Plus, you also
spoke with Pettigrew when he was forced out of his
animagus form and admitted to being guilty of the
attack on your parent's cottage, and the murder of the
thirteen muggles, and that he'd taken the Dark Mark.
"Further, you've explained all this to the Minister, yet
he still tried to get Black 'Kissed'. On top of that, Albus
Dumbledore, Severus Snape and Remus Lupin also
know this to be true."
"That's right," replied Harry. "As does Hermione, here,"
he continued, indicating Hermione, who nodded back
in confirmation.
"And Ron Weasley," Hermione added.
"The man doesn't need a trial, he needs to be
exonerated!" Ackerman exclaimed.
"No," Harry replied shaking his head. "He must have a
trial, or the best approximation of one. No one will
believe his innocence unless he gets one and
is publicly exonerated. Fudge, as I've explained, will
bury it unless you do. He does not want the Ministry...
or, rather, himself... embarrassed by it coming out that
Sirius was incarcerated in Azkaban for a crime he didn't
commit. He'd rather see the man Kissed so he can hide
it."
"Well," sighed Ackerman. "You've got me on board."
Leaning forward, he said, "I'll need memories of all that
you've witnessed on this. I doubt even Amelia Bones
will aid us without them."
Already prepared, Harry drew a clean phial out of his
robes and drew his wand. Holding the wand to his
temple he drew forth a copy of the memory of the
meeting in the Shrieking Shack before letting it drop
into the phial, and corked it.
Handing it across to Ackerman, he explained, "That's
the entirety of the meeting in the Shrieking Shack. I
believe it's probably all you're going to need,
memory-wise."
Nodding, Ackerman pulled a wooden box out of his
satchel and placed the phial with the memory strand
within it into it. "You're right. That should be enough to
get Bones on side with this."
"But, remember," Harry cautioned. "You need to
careful with this. If Fudge, or any of his lackeys, get
wind of this, he will do all that he can to make sure it
never comes to trial."
"Understood, Mister Potter," replied Ackerman. "Now,"
he moved on. "Perhaps you can tell me how you know
You-Know-Who's name is really this Tom whatever."
"May I have a small sheet of parchment, your ink and
quill, please," asked Harry.
Once the solicitor handed them over, Harry quickly
wrote out I AM LORD VOLDEMORT on one line; then,
about three inches lower, wrote out TOM MARVOLO
RIDDLE. Then he drew lines between both, matching
the letters up. Before he finally spun the parchment
about and slid it back across to Ackerman.
Ackerman took a long look at what Harry had done
before he looked back up at Harry in surprise. "An
anagram!" he softly exclaimed.
"Yes, Sir," replied Harry. "Riddle was a student, here, in
the late thirties and early forties, in Slytherin. He was
given an Award for Services to the School in 1943 for
fingering Rubeus Hagrid for the crime of releasing
Slytherin's monster, a basilisk, upon the school. A
Ravenclaw student named Myrtle Cummings was killed.
She's now the ghost known as Moaning Myrtle. He
then went on to become the Head Boy in 1945 off the
back of that.
"However, it was Riddle who had found the chamber
and released the basilisk, not Hagrid. Riddle's
trademark when he killed people was to set it up so
that another was fingered for the crime. He did the
same thing when he killed his father, paternal
grandfather and paternal grandmother... and memory
charmed his maternal uncle to force the man to admit
to the crime.
"He went on, after leaving school and while working
for Borgin & Burkes, to murder Hepzibah Smith...
pointing the evidence to Smith's house elf, Hokey.
"After killing Smith, he almost immediately took off for
the continent, where he remained for about ten years.
When he came back, he came back as Lord Voldemort.
That was 1957."
"Sweet Merlin," said a passionate Ackerman. "That's
quite the tale."
"Ministry records will contain most of the information
you can check if you want to check my facts," shrugged
Harry. "However, that's not one of my tasks I have for
you and your firm."
"Yes," said Ackerman, recognising the point to get back
on track. "You also wanted assistance with matters
relating to defamation."
"Yes," said Harry. "For what has occurred in the past
and what is likely to come."
"And just how have you been defamed, Mister Potter?"
he asked.
"You know all those books? - Harry Potter and the... -
for a start, not one of them is true. Plus, no one has
ever approached me for my permission to use my
name, image or anything similar. I want them stopped
and sued," explained Harry. "I also want your firm to go
after all those who have used my name to promote
their products, no matter how small or considered
inconsequential. Again, none of them have had my
permission to do so. That's to start with."
While he was talking, Miss Pentridge was writing down
the instructions on her own parchment.
"I also want to retain your services to protect my
reputation in future," Harry continued. "During my
second year here, I was continually slandered and
sneered at because people believed I was the Heir of
Slytherin, and was responsible for the Chamber of
Secrets being reopened. I do not want to see that
happen ever again.
"Further, after the Prophet announced... without our
permission, mind... that us three were part of a
three-way soul bond, we were inundated with abusive
mail and packages designed with the intent of causing
one or more of us harm. I will not stand for that. I want
the management of the Prophet well and truly
smacked down for it, with a warning never to do it
again... else, face my legal wrath. You."
Nodding, as she was writing, Miss Pentridge replied,
"We can do all that. I take it you want recompense for
the use of your name and image?"
Chapter 88
"Yes, but I only want to keep enough to pay for your
services," replied Harry. "The rest I want to eventually
set aside for a Foundation in my mother's name to aid
muggleborn in getting their start in the wizarding world.
My direct instruction for this is, 'Bleed the mongrels
dry!'
"I also want an article to appear in the Daily
Prophet, Teen Witch Weekly and Witch Weekly that
decries the nonsense written in those books as the
sheer fantasy they are. My life was... is... nothing like
that. It's led to people believing things about me that
are patently untrue."
With a sigh, he said, "My bondmates and I will soon be
spending time, in part, talking about my life to date. I
actually have no interest in telling people about my life.
However, I've now been convinced that clearing-the-air
about it can go a long way towards healing the
psychological and emotional damage I've sustained
since that dreadful Halloween night.
"Do you want Daphne and I to write it all down for you,
Harry?" Hermione softly asked.
"Yeah," he sighed, looking to both bondmates. "But, let
me get it all off my chest, first; on Friday. Then, we can
go back and you two can write it all down, alright?"
"Alright, love," she replied with a similar verbal nod
from Daphne.
"I also want another notice, on another day, that
apologises to the wizarding world for my not
responding to all the letters, gifts and the like that have
been sent to me these past thirteen years," Harry
requested. "Albus Dumbledore, it seems, felt the need
to intercept my mail and redirect it to a storeroom,
here, in the castle. I only found out about that a few
days ago. And it's going to take me a very long time to
go through it all and start answering folks back."
"He intercepted your mail?" asked Pentridge, with an
angry little moue.
"He did," nodded Harry. "And he didn't tell me he was
doing it, either. It wasn't until I screamed at him
enough about how I was supposed to be everyone's
hero, and yet hadn't heard a word from any of them,
that he finally relented enough to show me where it's
all being stored. There're literally shelves upon shelves
of it all."
"We could go after him for that," she frowned.
"We could," replied Harry. "However, I think it was
Dumbledore more doing it, as he said, to protect me
from those who would attempt me harm using the mail
system; rather than him just wanting to deny me my
mail. Sure, there might have been that involved, too.
However, I have no proof that was his leading reason.
"What I have impressed upon him already, however, is
that I am not too happy with him for doing it, and then
not letting me know the mail was there during my first
year, or since. He's had ample time to hand it all to me,
and didn't. If he continues to do it... or does it again...
you have my permission to go after him with, as the
muggles say, both barrels."
"The mail redirection should have been removed by
now, Harry," said Daphne. "We should begin our plans
for moving it and begin going through it all after this
meeting."
Harry nodded back and said, "You're right. Thank you,
Daphne."
"Alright," said Ackerman. "Is that all you have for us,
Mister Potter?"
Checking with his bondmates, who both nodded back,
Harry said, "Yes, Sir."
"Good," said Ackerman, as he and Miss Pentridge
began to put all their notes and writing implements
away. "I'll have a retainer contract sent to you for
signing some time after Monday. I'll mark where you
need to sign. Once it's signed, so long as you don't
make any changes... and I recommend you don't... the
contract will automatically be filed with the relevant
authorities. It will be replaced by your own copy before
you."
Once the two solicitors were packed, the five stood and
walked to the door. Ackerman and Daphne removed
the various charms and locks before Ackerman opened
the door as if to step out.
As soon as the door opened, they saw Dumbledore
standing on the other side frowning.
He took one look at Harry and said, "Mister Potter, I
assumed I would be invited to any meeting you would
have with others, other than family, within my school."
Stepping out, Ackerman asked him, "And why would
you make such an assumption, Mister Dumbledore."
Switching to sternly look at Ackerman, Dumbledore
said, "I prefer Headmaster Dumbledore."
"Really?" Ackerman asked with an almost predatory
smile. "If you are making such enquiries as Headmaster,
then you are abusing your position and authority of
that title. Are you sure you want to be referred to as
'Headmaster', rather than 'Mister'?"
Dumbledore scowled back but, instead of answering,
began, "Loco parentis..." before Ackerman smoothly
cut in.
"... Would be the responsibility of Professor Filius
Flitwick, as his assigned Head of
House, Mister Dumbledore."
Dumbledore scowled deeper before he chose to ignore
the man and turn back to Harry. "Mister Potter, I
should have been made aware you were entertaining
visitors before they were allowed onto school
grounds..."
"I sought permission from, and was granted such
permission, from Professor Flitwick, Sir," Harry
smoothly replied. "I believe that was the correct course
of action, in this instance. Was it not?"
Without a word and a small scowl, after a long moment
Dumbledore spun about and stalked off down the
corridor.
"Controlling, manipulative old..." muttered Harry
before Hermione cut him off.
"Harry," she lowly scolded.
As they all filed out into the corridor, Ackerman asked,
"Is he always like this?"
"When it comes to me? Yes," replied Harry.
"Keep me appraised, then," said Ackerman.
The three teens escorted the two solicitors back to the
main doors of the castle before bidding them goodbye.
As the two walked back up the main driveway, Harry
asked his two bondmates, "What next?"
"Let's go find a classroom somewhere near the seventh
floor we can use to sort your mail," replied Hermione.
"Good idea," said Daphne.
And the three headed up stairs.
Chapter 89
The three eventually found what they were looking for
not far from their apartment. None of them knew that
there were even classrooms on the seventh floor,
somewhat expecting most of the room to have been
taken up by the room of requirement and the
Gryffindor and Ravenclaw common rooms and visitors
rooms.
However, they found a sufficiently large enough room,
complete with windows, and called Dobby and Winky
to prepare it for their needs. It was the first time they'd
actually laid eyes on Winky since she bonded to
Hermione. And her 'uniform' was the same as Dobby's,
except she had an urban camouflage dress on, rather
than pants. It looked... different.
Over the next couple of days, Hermione had a ball
laying out what she felt was a workable layout for
sorting, responding and dealing with gifts and the like.
Once all the classroom furniture was removed, Dobby
and Winky happily moved the racks of mail from the
hidden storeroom into one side of the now
transformed classroom. They replaced one of the
windows with an 'owl accessible' window; and, nearby,
put in a couple of long roosts for them. In the sorting
area, they put in long wooden benches for the various
stages starting from the back of the classroom leading
to the front, where the window and owls would be
located and 'roosted'.
Once everything was where Hermione thought it
should be, she said, "Now we just have to employ
people to get everything going."
"We're going to need seventh years with experience in
checking for traps, compulsion charms and the like,"
Daphne mused. "Some sixth years can possibly do that,
too. But, mainly, we need people we can trust."
"We need people who can write well... have good
quillmanship," muttered Hermione. "Those are for the
apology letters."
"And people who can make a quick determination on
what sort of letter needs to be written in response,"
said Daphne.
"Merlin! You two make a good tag-team," exclaimed
Harry, listening to them exchange ideas back and forth.
Both girls looked back with matching smiles, before
Daphne said, "Of course. We're bondmates; so, of
course, we'd be compatible in our thinking."
Both girls then decided that they'd be the ones,
working with Dobby and Winky, to organise getting
things happening.
"Not that we don't think you'd eventually get it done,
Harry," explained Hermione. "But, we're both, I hate to
say, a little better at organising things than you."
Raising both hands in the air in surrender, Harry replied,
"I won't argue; I happen to agree. Just... thank you,
both."
That earned him a big smile and a kiss from each.
Back in the apartment the girls set to work thinking
about who they'd want to approach before offering
them the chance to make some pocket money working
'after hours'.
When Hermione asked Harry if he wanted to offer the
chance to the Weasley twins, he replied, "No. It will
make the two youngest and the Potion Queen think
they still have an 'in' with us. I don't want to give them
any reason to think that.
"I'll still give the twins the thousand galleons for their
store, though. In June. After the third task."
Hermione nodded and the two girls returned to their
lists and occasionally asking Harry for his opinion.
Once done, Hermione asked, "How will we approach
them?"
"Directly, away from the Great Hall," said Daphne.
"We'll do it individually so as not to end up having
people approach us asking for work until after we've
got the initial people organised and working."
"I'm going to password the door," said Daphne.
"Without a portrait?" asked Hermione
"Voice activated on the locking charm," replied
Daphne.
Harry was beginning to feel like a third wheel.
"Anything I can do?" he asked.
"I'd have thought you'd be looking at safer ways to get
past the dragon, by now," replied Daphne, looking over
at him.
"What was wrong..." he started before seeing the looks
on both their faces. "Never mind," he amended, sitting
back.
Thinking for a moment, he told them, "I'm going to go
ask the Room of Requirement for help."
Looking up in surprise, Hermione said, "That's a
brilliant idea!"
"Well, I do have them, at times," he half-snarked back.
"I know you do," she soothed him. "It just reminds me
we haven't made as much use of the Room as we really
should have, or can."
He moved over to both and gave them a light kiss on
the cheek each. "You know where to find me. Send
Dobby or Winky to come and get me if you need me."
And, with that, he left the apartment to head across to
the Room of Requirement.
Asking for help in how he could safely get past a
Hungarian Horntail, he entered to find a single
armchair with a reading table, alongside. There were
books on the small table.
Taking a seat he began by first reading the title and
table of contents of each book. They contained battle
magic, charms, curses, hexes, runic arrays and rituals.
He set aside the ones on rituals and runic arrays
because, first, rituals took time and were heavily
frowned upon in Magical Britain; and, second, runic
arrays took time and would show that he was actually
a lot more knowledgeable, magically, than he should
be for a fourteen year old.
However, he did intend to go through them when he
had a chance.
Picking up a book on magical combat, he began to read;
skimming when he either knew the information or it
wasn't all that relevant when facing a dragon alone.
He was deep into practicing wand movements for
memorising matching incantations when Winky
popped in. "Miss Grangy and Miss Daffy say it's almost
time for dinner. Theys be waiting for you in the
apartment."
"Thank you, Winky," replied Harry, marking his page
and placing the book back on the reading table.
The little elf popped away, again, as he rose and
headed for the door.
That night marked another night when both girls joined
him in bed naked. But, before going to bed he
fashioned up a shelf at the top of the headboard where
he could place his glasses and wand. He didn't want to
rely on Hermione getting them for him when, or if, he
needed them.
Chapter 90
As they were settling down, Daphne asked, "Harry, why
do you wear glasses? What charms do you have on
them?"
Frowning, wondering where Daphne was going with
this line of enquiry, he said, "I need the glasses because
of my poor eyesight. And there're no charms on them. I
didn't even know I could get charms on them."
"You've never noticed that our school mates don't
wear glasses?" she asked, surprised. "I mean, Tracey
did for the first two years. But, that was because you
need to start puberty before they can magically fix your
eyes."
"Huh!" he exclaimed. "It would be brilliant if I could get
my eyes fixed. I hate having to wear them. It's yet
another thing that lets people recognise me."
"I think we should speak to Professor Flitwick about
organising you a day to go to Saint Mungo's to get
them fixed," she opined. "But, first, we'll speak with
Madam Pomfrey about it."
"On the subject of getting things fixed," said Hermione,
from her side. "I need to speak with Madam Pomfrey
about getting my front teeth fixed. We can't rely on
Malfoy accidentally hitting me with the tooth growing
hex, this time."
"And both of us should really start on the
anti-pregnancy contraceptive potion, as well," Daphne
added.
"Hey! Whoa!" exclaimed Harry. "Jumping the gun there
a bit, aren't you?"
"Jumping what?" Daphne asked, confused.
"It's a muggle phrase," replied Harry. "It means doing
something early, even too early." He gave himself a bit
of a mental shake and said, "But, that's beside the
point. I thought we agreed to take things slow."
"And we are, love," said Daphne. "But, it's still
something we should talk to her about."
"Harry, how do we know that our bond doesn't render
those sort of potions useless?" asked Hermione,
propping herself up to look down at her bondmates.
"We know there are a great many potions and charms
that'll no longer affect us. A standard contraceptive
potion may be one of them."
With Harry pushed flat on his back, Daphne also
propped herself up on an elbow to look at the other
two. "The same could also apply to the sex charms we
learned in those girls-only talks Madam Pomfrey gave
us in first year."
"Sex charms?" Harry half-squeaked.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Harry James,"
Hermione scolded him. "They're the two parts of a pair
of charms cast on the witch and wizard by themselves
to ensure the witch doesn't fall pregnant immediately,
or within a few hours beforehand, of the two having
sex. Either should do the trick. But, both are supposed
to make sure.
"They're usually only used, though, when the witch
isn't taking the contraceptive potion," added Daphne.
"Just what did you girls learn in that class?" Harry
asked, a little horrified. "All we got was the usual, 'No
means no' talk. And that her door was always open for
us to go and talk to her if we had any questions. We
didn't even get the 'what goes where' talk I know they
now give in muggle schools."
With a sigh, Hermione said, "In other words she
basically told you, without actually coming right out
and saying it, that ensuring the witch doesn't get
pregnant is the responsibility of the witch. That's just
stupid. And not a little irresponsible."
With a shrug, Harry explained, "Most of what boys
come to know is actually learned, if you want to call it
that, by listening to the older boys talk. And that, I'm
very sure, is at least ninety percent hippogriff shit."
"You're not sure?" asked Daphne, frowning a little.
"Harry," she asked. "Before we came back. And even as
of now, this time around, that I think of it. Are you a
virgin?"
"Yes," he replied a little embarrassed to admit it.
"I would have thought..." she began. "You know..." And
blushed.
"You thought that, because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, I
would have had sex with half the girls in school by
now."
"Yes," she softly said.
"I haven't," he admitted. "I haven't even spent time in
a broom closet, fumbling about in the dark, with
anyone."
"You know at least half the witches in school wouldn't
mind doing that with you, don't you?" she asked.
"I do," he sighed. "However, they all want to have sex,
and tell about it afterwards, with the Boy-Who-Lived;
not Harry. Besides, I wouldn't know who to ask,
anyway."
"Do you want a list?" Hermione asked a little gleefully.
"Merlin, no!" he exclaimed. "Look. Can we just drop
this subject, please? It's going to make it hard enough
to get to sleep as it is."
"Hard enough?" asked Hermione, wanting to twig him
a little more.
Harry just blushed again and groaned as both girls
laughed.
"You do realise this talk is going to make me
have those sort of dreams tonight, don't you?" he
plaintively asked.
"Sorry, Harry," both girls apologised.
With Harry flat on his back, and both girls using his
chest as a pillow, they all soon drifted off to sleep. As
he lay there, Harry just hoped it wouldn't be an
embarrassing night; or morning.
It wasn't.
The next day, the Sunday, the girls spent a good portion
of the morning after breakfast helping Harry come to
grips with Ancient Runes. It was a subject they hadn't
been paying as much attention to as they'd originally
promised a couple of weeks earlier.
Harry covered how far he'd managed to get through his
'Introductory' book and the practice examples he'd
worked through.
The girls also quizzed him on the identity of the various
runes and told him he needed to spend more time
memorising them.
"Shouldn't I also be practicing carving the runes?" he
asked, at one point.
"You should," Daphne confirmed. "But, we'll need to
get you started on carving them on blocks of chalk.
We'll need to owl-order the proper carving tools and
blocks of various substances for you to practice on. For
now, you can borrow mine." She rose to go to her trunk
to get the tools and blocks of chalk out of her own
supplies.
While she was gone, Hermione showed him what they
were working on as fourth years. And outlined the
term project she and Daphne, who had paired up for
the year, were aiming to accomplish.
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