Chapter 29

February 7th.

Meetings with Penny and Narcissa had become a regular

occurrence over time, one kept him informed of his finances and

anything related to them while the other made sure that the public

view of him didn't become problematic. It was a good arrangement

and Harry made sure to listen to both women even if he sometimes

wanted to fall asleep.

At the moment, Penny was telling him about the steady profits being

made, but Harry's mind was elsewhere.

The planned trip to North America was coming up very soon now

and his concern over Voldemort was nagging at him. He had no

intention of putting his life on hold because of the Dark Lord, but he

really did not want the bastard resurrecting himself while he was

abroad. Or at all preferably.

Fucking Horcruxes.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Penny asked, sounding quite

exasperated.

"Sorry, I've got something else on my mind." He apologised. "Can we

do this a bit later? I need to talk to Narcissa about something."

Penny frowned but nodded, leaving the room to give him and the

older witch some privacy.

"What did you want to talk about?" Narcissa asked curiously.

Over the past few days, Harry had run through everything he knew

about Voldemort, his Horcuxes and the Death Eaters forwards and

backwards in an attempt to see if there were any loose ends in his

knowledge that could lead to finding another soul anchor.

There was one little loose end that he'd never received an answer

for. It was a bit of a long shot, but it couldn't hurt to ask.

"Does the name 'Dobby' mean anything to you?"

Narcissa gaped at him and Harry knew that he had struck gold.

"He used to be the Malfoy house-elf. How do you know about him?"

She asked, very shocked.

"I see." That meant that Lucius was the most likely culprit for the

diary being in Hogwarts back during his second year. Interesting.

"What happened to him?"

"Lucius killed him for some reason, he never told me why."

Ah, his oh-so-clever plan for the house-elf to get himself free had

backfired then. That actually did make him feel a little bit guilty. He

remembered how hopeful the abused elf had been when Harry had

shared his idea.

"Harry, how do you know about Dobby?" Narcissa asked again.

"I met him a few years ago, he helped me out with something." And it

was the truth. Without Dobby, he wouldn't have been able to confirm

that Voldemort had entrusted a Horcux to at least one of his

servants. And if he had done it once, he might have done it again.

"What could he have possibly helped you out with?" The blonde

witch asked incredulously.

He gave her an intense stare that made her flush all the way down to

her neck. A look like that almost inevitably preceded a hard fucking

and they had never done it in Potter Manor before.

But Harry didn't have sex in mind this time. Rather, he was thinking

of how deeply he had bent Narcissa to his will.

She had been a vile woman at the beginning. Her mask of politeness

had been impeccable, but there had been a rot on the inside. Only

the rush of dominating her had kept him at it instead of washing his

hands of her.

Once her fear and desperation had been replaced by genuine

respect and affection for him, other things had followed. She could

no longer despise things that he liked, nor could she glorify things

that he held in contempt. She was still a woman born into privilege

and possessed of a certain snobbery because of it, but Harry

actually found himself liking her these days.

Now he could be sure that she was truly loyal to him rather than

merely seeing him as the least terrible option.

"Narcissa, are there any reasonably high ranked Death Eaters in

Britain that nobody would miss too much?"

The blonde woman's eyes widened at the question before settling

into calculation. She could tell that this was no idle question and that

whoever she named may mysteriously vanish. Rather than

frightening her, the trust that this gesture demonstrated made her

back straighten with pride.

And she had just the man in mind, someone that she had always

hated. "There is someone, but I don't know exactly where he lives…"

"That's alright. As long as you know the general area, I'll find him."

A few days later.

Harry, Fleur and Luna were taking a walk in the forest near Potter

Manor when a raven unexpectedly decided to perch on Harry's

shoulder.

"What does it want?" Fleur huffed. The black birds listened to Harry

and didn't shit all over the house, but she still didn't like them much.

They were creepy.

The raven croaked something that only Harry understood.

"He just wanted to tell me about a juicy bit of carrion he found." Harry

said, smiling at his private joke.

"Oh, that's so wonderful for him!" Luna exclaimed happily, clapping

her hands. "And so nice that he wants to share with you."

Fleur merely shuddered in disgust at that mental image.

Walden Macnair was a simple wizard. A pureblood though not a

noble one, he liked to kill things and had become a Death Eater for

that purpose, with the occasional episode of rape helping to spice

things up. When the Dark Lord had fallen, he'd become the Ministry's

executioner on the Comittee for the Disposal of Dangerous

Creatures. It wasn't a bad job, though a bit slow.

Macnair actually didn't care too much about mudbloods, though he

did consider himself superior to them. Mostly, he just liked killing

them for the sake of killing rather than because of any more

sophisticated reason.

He lived alone in a cottage in the hills and spent most of his free time

hunting in the surrounding forests. Sometimes, he treated himself to

hunting a muggle that he'd kidnapped off the streets. Those were

good days.

Walden Macnair was also really starting to fucking hate ravens,

crows and every bird that looked like them.

He hadn't noticed it at first, but the bloody birds had been showing

up around him a lot lately. It had been only a few at first, but their

numbers had suddenly multiplied until it seemed like there was no

end to them.

It wasn't like they were a strange sight to him. They were carrion

eaters after all and had picked up on the fact that a lot of corpses

turned up around him. Thing was, they generally stayed with his kills

instead of around him. The change was unnerving.

Today was especially bad. There were hundreds of ravens around

his house now, all of them staring at him in creepy silence.

Macnair's nerves could only take so much of this before he snapped,

and snap he did, screaming at the birds in an effort to scare them off.

They weren't scared. In fact, they didn't budge at all. They stayed

quiet except for a few soft croaks.

Macnair pulled out his wand, intent of firing a blasting curse at the

nearest grouping of them.

He never got the chance. Something hard crashed into the back of

his head and sent him spiralling into unconsciousness.

Harry put away the heavy oaken club he'd made earlier, ignoring the

small bloodstain on it. A stunner would have been simpler, but he

didn't want to leave any magical traces behind. Heh, maybe he

should give the club a name?

The Muggle Stunner, legendary club, +5 vs. Death Eaters, special

ability: Concussive Blow.

He left the Death Eater lying in the snow and went to the man's

cottage, trusting that he would stay unconscious.

Harry was almost disappointed with what he found inside. Given the

picture Narcissa had painted of Macnair, he'd half-expected to find

shelves filled with the bleached skulls of his victims in the basement

or something. Maybe a set of Death Eater robes at least. Instead of

that he found a fairly non-descript living space, though there were

some large axes hanging on the walls that he'd been told the man

was fond of.

Ah well, he supposed it would be stupid to keep something like that

around. Time to go then.

Grimmauld Place basement.

Harry finished securing Macnair to a chair with sturdy ropes and then

drew his kukri, slicing upen the man's left sleeve.

The Dark Mark was there as expected, but it was a faint outline

instead of the black tattoo-like thing it was supposed to be. It looked

like yet another variation of the Protean Charm, a type that could

apparently be applied to people. Interesting adaptation. The magic in

it was as faded as the color though, so Voldemort's current

weakness must be reflected in his mark. That was also kind of

interesting.

Having nothing better to do while he waited for his captive to wake

up, Harry took the man's wand and sat at a table he'd had Kreacher

bring down here a couple of days ago. Then he carefully cracked it

open and began studying it.

For all his distaste of them, Harry had to admit that wands were

incredibly sophisticated items. The core was somehow connected to

the wood, which was what gave the wand its ability to tap into the

user's magic. Exactly how this was done, Harry had no idea, nor did

he have any clue why wood type was important or how different

ways of waving it around could help in spellcasting.

Something had been done to the wood obviously, since the dragon

heartstring core in Macnair's wand didn't seem tampered with.

Miniature runes? Some kind of super secret invisible wandmaker

technique that only they knew? Snorkacks? It could be anything and

his Magesight wasn't of any help. It certainly wasn't a mystery that

he would be able to unravel in ten minutes.

But that wasn't the mystery he was here to unravel. That one was

currently waking up with a pained groan.

"Welcome back to the land of the conscious." Harry greeted.

Macnair squinted until the blur reshaped itself into something

recognisable. "Potter?"

"The one and only."

Macnair noticed the state of his wand at that point and growled low

in his throat. "What the fuck did you do to my wand?!"

"I was studying it." Harry answered conversationally. "Fascinating

things really, even if I don't like them. Kind of amazing how refined

they've become, the greatest achievement of our kind… and also the

worst."

That didn't make the bound wizard any happier. "When I get out of

here I'm going to skin you alive."

"When you get out of here?" Harry echoed, darkly amused. "What

makes you think you're getting out of here?"

The words pierced through Macnair's concussed mind like a spear of

pure ice and he swallowed thickly, suddenly afraid. For a minute

there, he had forgotten that Potter was actually nothing at all like

those silly stories of him.

"What do you want?" He asked, hating the feeling of helplessness.

"Information." Harry said, stood up from the desk and circled around

until he was standing behind the bound man, hands on his

shoulders.

"What kind of information?" Macnair asked warily, even more

unnderved now that he couldn't see his captor. He noticed the

distinctive scratching sounds of a dictation quill somewhere to the

side for the first time… this really was an interrogation.

"Did Voldemort ever entrust you with an important object?" Harry

asked.

"No." Confusion, but no lie.

"Do you know if Voldemort ever entrusted someone else with such

an object?"

"No." Still no lie .

"If Voldemort were to entrust such an object to someone, who would

it be? Name both the living and those that died after him."

Macnair hesitated. Confusion, unwillingness to betray, fear of

retribution.

Harry drew his enchanted kukri and placed it against the death

eater's right ear. "Do I really have to start cutting pieces off you?"

Walden Macnair was not a brave man by any means, but he was a

pureblood with certain preconceptions. To him, torture was done with

magic, not with knives, which meant that this was a bluff. So he

sneered. "You don't have the guts."

In different circumstances, He might even have been right. Harry

didn't really have the right temperament for torture, brief urge to cut

an ear off from Bole and Flint aside. But he did have a need for

information and the soul deep chill of the Dark that stole away all

emotion.

Macnair's brief confidence faltered when he felt the cold. It was like a

great black abyss had opened up behind him, eager to swallow him

whole. And then came the slash of the knife that took his ear off and

made him howl in pain.

Harry waited patiently for his captive to settle down before he started

speaking, his voice now cold, flat and filled with a terrible inevitability.

"I don't have the disposition required to cast the Cruciatus.

Legilimency is clumsy and imprecise. I don't know if you can fight off

Veritaserum. You will tell me what I want to know or I will keep

cutting pieces off you until there's nothing left to cut and I will know if

you lie."

And Macnair believed it. Potter really would keep carving until there

was nothing left of him. He had been on the wrong end of the Dark

Lord's Cruciatus once and it had hurt far worse than losing an ear,

but at least it left you whole. So he talked.

"Lucius Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, Augustus

Rookwood, Evan Rosier."

Harry hummed thoughtfully. Nothing really new there, just a

confirmation of some very well educated guesses. Those were all

Inner Circle Death Eaters, Voldemort's favorites, of which only Evan

Rosier and Malfoy were dead and the rest were in Azkaban. There

were others that Harry knew of or at least suspected, but Macnair

may not necessarily be aware of them. The Dark Mark on his arm

indicated that he was one of Voldemort's more favored minions, but

clearly not that favored. Useless, in other words.

"Give me the names of every Death Eater you know."

"I don't really know of any others for certain… we operated in

secrecy and only the Dark Lord knew all of us."

"Then make some educated guesses."

Macnair struggled with himself for a few moments, a sense of

indebtedness warring with fear and self-preservation. Selfpreservation won. "Robert Mulciber Sr., Maxwell Avery Sr.,

Thaddeus Nott."

The lords of their Houses. Narcissa had already informed him of

where their sympathies lay, not that it was hard to guess since

Mulciber and Avery had sons that were 'Imperiused', but he hadn't

thought they'd be reckless enough to pledge themselves to a Dark

Lord directly. "How certain are you that they're Death Eaters?"

"Nott, Mulciber, Avery and Malfoy vouched on my behalf after the

Dark Lord fell to keep me out of Azkaban and hinted at old

friendships later, so I'm pretty sure."

Ah, so they'd kept Macnair out of Azkaban and used that debt to

control him, though why they would want control of the Ministry's

executioner he couldn't fathom. Maybe they were just being

thorough.

More to the point, Macnair thought he was being clever by naming

those that had him by the balls. Perhaps hoping that he'd get rid of

them for him?

"Who else?"

"Nobody, those are the only ones I know." Lie.

"Do you want to lose the other ear that badly?"

Macnair was a solitary man that didn't really have friends, but he

remembered a few raids where he and a pair of curiously

synchronised Death Eaters had some fun together with the

mudbloods or muggles they had targeted. Still, that wasn't enough

for him to endure maiming at Potter's hands and he was deeply

frightened by his inability to sneak even this small attempt at

deception past him. "Alecto and Amycus Carrow. They're twins that

do everything together."

Another family sympathetic to Voldemort, but Narcissa hadn't been

able to give him any names. "And you knew a pair of Death Eaters

that did everything together?" Harry guessed.

"Yes."

"Interesting. Alecto and Amycus are only cousins to the main line

Carrows if I recall correctly. Do they live in the family manor?"

"No, they have their own place somewhere in the Scottish

Highlands, I don't know where exactly." Macnair admitted in defeat,

knowing that the Carrow twins would likely end up in the same

position as him before long.

"Friends of yours?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Macnair didn't rise to the bait.

"Moving on, tell me how Voldemort acts, how he leads, how are raids

organised, how he got his funds, where in the Ministry he had

supporters and are they still in place, where did you conduct your

meetings…" Harry asked all of this and more.

To Macnair, it sounded like Potter was planning to fight a war that

was already over. He didn't want to talk, but the threat of further

maiming gave him no choice. He didn't have answers for every

question, but he spilled the beans everything he did know.

"Did Voldemort have any noteworthy non-Death Eater allies?"

"A few giants, the dementors, Fenrir Greyback's werewolf pack."

All of which would be problematic if he ever returned, but would

almost certainly not be entrusted with a piece of his soul to guard.

"Where is Greyback right now?"

"I don't know."

"Very well, I have no more questions." Harry said and walked back to

face his captive.

Macnair licked his lips nervously, trying to ignore the wetness on the

right side of his head and the continuing throb of pain from his shorn

ear. "Now what?"

Harry didn't answer at first, choosing instead to walk back to his

chair and sit down. The knife was still in his hand and he stared at

the bloodstains on it contemplatively for a while before speaking.

"You're a pureblood, yes?"

Macnair was utterly baffled, but saw no reason to lie. "Yes."

"And I'm a halfblood?"

Macnair was still baffled, but also becoming wary. "Yes."

"And my mother was a mudblood?"

Macnair now swallowed nervously, feeling as if he was standing on

very thin ice. Still, the question had been framed in such a way that

there wasn't much he could do besides agree. "Yes?"

"Such a curious thing, blood." Harry said musingly, still turning the

knife over. "I completely understand where the belief in blood purity

comes from. The idea of legacy has been floating around humanity's

collective consciousness since the dawn of our species, the notion

that some blood is purer than others is a natural evolution of that. It's

terribly dumb, but then so are people."

"Where are you going with this?" Macnair asked.

"I've heard it said that Voldemort and his Death Eaters championed

the 'old ways'. Is that true?"

"Yes…"

"Old ways, the established order of things, carrying a weight of

history and tradition. It has a certain prestigious ring to it, doesn't it?"

"I guess?" Macnair said uncertainly.

"Did you know that the first magics all dealt with blood? Blood oaths,

blood sacrifices, blood this and blood that. It was all about the blood

and little wonder, without this " Harry said, pointing the kukri at the

ruined wand that was still on the table. "bloodletting was one of the

few ways magic could be performed that didn't require decades and

decades of training. Volatile, dangerous magic, often backfiring on

the user, but magic all the same. Those were the good old days,

weren't they? The times when mighty wizards built their power on

the blood and bones of their enemies. The real o ld ways."

Macnair had been growing steadily paler as the monologue went on,

but that last sentence had him trying to struggle out of his bonds.

"No!"

"Don't fret, I'm not going to use you in some kind of blood ritual."

Harry said with a scoff.

Macnair sighed in relief.

"I'm still going to kill you though."

"But I told you everything you wanted to know!" Macnair yelled

furiously.

"And I told you that you wouldn't be leaving here." Harry pointed out

reasonably, standing up and moving to the side to pick up a bit of

leftover rope, firmly gripping the ends and pulling it taut a few times.

"Wait! I can help you!" Macnair said desperately.

"You have helped me, not as much as I'd hoped, but some. Your

usefulness is at an end though."

"But you'll need servants, won't you?"

"What for?" Harry asked, honestly perplexed.

"Aren't you looking to become a Dark Lord and take the country for

yourself like Voldemort?" Macnair knew full well that Potter had a

different set of ideals than Voldemort and seemed fond of

mudbloods, but that didn't matter to him much. He was a killer and

killing was killing. He'd gladly switch allegiances if he got to kill

again. Plus, he really didn't want to die.

The question broke through the emotionless cold Harry had

submerged himself in and made him laugh.

"That's a good one." Harry said with a final chuckle. "I mean, I

understand how you could think that, but it's still ridiculous. Not only

is taking over a country the last thing I'd want, but you and Voldemort

and all the other morons parading around in masks don't know

anything about True Dark. All you are is a liability and I have no use

for you."

Seeing his would-be executioner moving towards him with grim

intent had Macnair panicking. "No! Stop!"

"This is my first time murdering someone like this, so please excuse

any clumsiness." Harry said as he moved behind the man, feeling

very cold inside.

A few minutes later, he felt the Void snatch away Macnair's soul and

he let go of the rope with a deep exhale. A knife would have been

simpler, but he didn't want a bloody mess all over the floor.

Harry felt no prickles of a guilty conscience over what he'd just done,

just like he hadn't felt any for killing Malfoy. How could he, when the

Void's hunger for life was part of him? Or maybe it was because both

men had been pretty evil even from an objective standpoint. It was

hard to tell sometimes with the way his humanity had become a

balancing scale between Light and Dark, neither of which really lent

themselves to such tender emotions as guilt or regret.

He had contemplated using Macnair's death for a particular purpose,

but then the man had mentioned the Carrow twins. The whole thing

would require some adjustment, but he could do that while his

ravens scoured the Scottish highlands for the Carrows. It would be

cutting things a bit close since they were scheduled to leave for

America at the end of February, but there should be time. It would be

much more powerful too…

He tried to cast a Vanishing Spell on Macnair's body, scowling when

the lingering magic in the corpse resisted it. He hadn't been aware

that there was a waiting period before it could be disposed of. How

inconvenient, yet also interesting.

"Kreacher."

The old elf appeared, took in the scene and pinned Harry with eyes

full of admiration.

"Does Master want Kreacher to dispose of the body?" He asked

hopefully.

"I was going to tell you to just clean up the blood and that ear…

You've disposed of bodies before?"

"Kreacher has." The old elf said proudly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Harry said wryly.

"If Master wishes, Kreacher could feed the body to Master's birds."

Kreacher offered.

Harry opened his mouth to refuse, only to close it and seriously

consider the idea instead. The thought of having Macnair's body

butchered and turned into bird food elicited no emotional reaction

whatsoever and it had been only reflex that had made refusal his

initial impulse. Besides various nuts, seeds and whatnot, he was

currently feeding them pork and beef. Macnair was already dead and

had certainly been far less congenial than a cow or pig. Why not?

Well he'd be thought of as a monster by anyone that learned of

it(except Luna), because the world was full of sentimental wimps.

Fuck it. Nobody aside from him, Luna and the house-elves went up

to the ravenry anyway. "Go ahead, just don't let anyone see you and

remember to get rid of the bones once you're done." The magic in

the remains should fade soon enough and the house-elf would be

able to Vanish them easily enough once that happened.

Kreacher eagerly popped away with Macnair's body, leaving Harry

alone to contemplate his own blasé attitude to what he'd just done.

While he didn't feel guilty about it and knew that it was better to start

killing now than when Voldie came back, the ever growing issue was

going to be the people close to him. How was he supposed to tell his

playful godfather that he was planning a murder spree? Sirius might

have been born into the Black family, but he had a rather large

amount of scruples. Still, Harry was fairly confident he could

convince Sirius that it was necessary if it came down to it.

But what about Penny? Kind, helpful and oh-so-sheltered Penny.

She'd been unsettled for weeks after he'd killed Lucius and that had

been both pretty justified and someone she'd hated. Well maybe not

hated, but definitely resented. Convincing her that preemptively

murdering Voldemort's support base was the best thing to do was

just not going to happen. Even if he told her about the Horcruxes.

Penny hadn't lived through the last war and wasn't cynical enough to

really understand how bad things could and would get if the Dark

Lord came back with things as they were now.

If only they were more like Luna… Luna would understand. Or at

least not care

Fleur was different issue. She had already seen him kill more than

once and the Joining would tell her that he was not exactly Mahatma

Gandhi. She was a harder person than her beauty would make one

think and the feelings she had for him should sway her, but he still

worried about her reaction. He'd become very fond of her and didn't

want her to leave.

Macnair may have been useless as far as the Horcruxes were

concerned, but it had lodged a couple of ideas in Harry's mind all the

same. One of them he was currently getting a start on.

"Narcissa, I'm giving you a project to work on while I'm in North

America."

"What kind of project?" Narcissa didn't look too surprised. Penny

must have told her that he liked to hand out assignments.

"I want you to draft a new werewolf legislation for me to propose in

the Wizengamot. Something more sensible than what we have in

place now."

"More sensible?" She repeated, brows furrowed. "The only thing

more that we could do would be to round them up and kill them, but

Dumbledore and his supporters have blocked that in the past."

Harry shook his head. Narcissa was coming along, but she was still

casually bigoted in many ways. "By 'more sensible' I meant more

lenient. The werewolf laws are ridiculous right now and are

practically designed to turn them into a problem. Draft a proposal to

provide free Wolfsbane so that they don't go on rampages every

month or something. Work with Penny on it and I'll have Sirius get in

touch with Remus Lupin so that you can get the input of an actual

werewolf."

Harry may not like the self-pitying attitude of the man, but he would

make use of him all the same.

"But-" Narcissa protested, clearly not wanting to have anything to do

with making the lives of werewolves easier.

"Do you trust me, Cissy?" He cut her off.

"Of course." She answered without hesitation.

"Then trust me when I tell you that this is important. I need you to do

this for me."

Narcissa visibly put aside her distaste for werewolves and looked at

him shrewdly. "Does it have anything to do with our talk from the

other day and the sudden disappearance of Walden Macnair?"

"It does."

That seemed to be enough for her and she nodded. "Alright then, I

will do my best, but you know that the Wizengamot won't be eager to

give werewolves more rights."

"That doesn't actually matter too much." Harry smirked. "What

matters is that I'm seen to support a peaceful werewolf integration

into the rest of magical society."

Given the type of man he'd heard Greyback was, the notion of

peaceful werewolves should get him frothing and draw him into the

open. The vicious werewolf might not have any political power or

even be a marked Death Eater, but he was a weapon of terror for

Voldemort and provided other werewolves as fighters for him. He

needed to die in the event of the Dark Lord's resurrection.

February 12th.

"Come on, Remus, lighten up." Sirius said as they approached

Potter Manor on foot after having apparated in some distance away.

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one Harry has a grudge against."

Remus muttered.

Sirius had come to fetch him from the German countryside where

he'd been living, saying that Harry had a job for him if he wanted it.

Remus would have thought it was charity if he was on better terms

with Harry. Still, he couldn't have refused even if there wasn't some

much needed money involved. He'd screwed up badly after James

and Lily were killed and didn't feel like he had any right to refuse a

request from their son.

"Harry isn't holding a grudge against you." Sirius replied,

exasperated. "He's just a bit… prickly. Besides, he's cooled off quite

a bit since you last saw him. Must be Fleur's doing."

Ah yes, Harry's veela paramour. Remus had kept in touch with Sirius

and knew about that development. James would be so proud.

"Luna's too."

And there was the other girl that Harry was sleeping with, the very

young one. Lily would have been very displeased. Actually, Lily

would have been very displeased that her fifteen-year-old son was

sexually active at all. More so that he had been since he was

thirteen.

"Hells, for all I know he's fucking Narcissa too. I wouldn't put it past

the bugger even if he denies it."

Remus nearly tripped over his own feet. Harry and Narcissa Malfoy,

or Black as the case may be? He couldn't picture it even if he knew

that Lucius' widow now worked for the new Lord Black, who was

coincidentally also the one that had widowed her.

"You can't be serius?!" He said incredulously.

"I'm always Sirius."

Remus merely sighed. He'd walked right into that one. Best to just

change the subject instead of encouraging his old friend. "Lots of

ravens around here, crows too."

"You can blame Harry for that." Sirius said with an odd little grin.

"What do you mean?"

"He's got a thing for these birds. Creeps the shite out of everyone

besides him and Luna though, which probably just encourages him

now that I think about it."

Remus wasn't sure what to make of that, but he did agree that the

great mass of birds turning the manor and everything around it black

with their feathers was damned creepy.

The two Marauders made their way into the manor and then into the

sitting room where Harry and Narcissa were waiting for them.

Remus had only seen Narcissa up close a few times when she had

come to sneer at Sirius about how much of a disgrace he was to the

Black family, and that had been when they were still in Hogwarts.

She was older and more refined now, but she still had that cold

beauty that she had once been known for.

Harry was the bigger surprise. Tall, with thick black hair held in a

neat ponytail that reached down to his shoulder blades, eyes that

were somehow even more vibrant than Remus remembered Lily's

being, a face that was at once so much like James' yet also had

many hints of his mother in it and looked sharper without the

glasses, a lean sort of muscle definition that was almost unheard of

in a wizard… Fifteen years old and he looked like a full grown man.

When he'd last seen him, Remus had thought his early blooming

would slow down. Apparently not.

"Lupin." Even his voice sounded adult, with none of the awkward

cracking that puberty should have given it.

"Harry, It's good to see you again." Remus replied warmly, shaking

the offered hand. So far so good. There was certainly less tension

between them than there had been at their last meeting. Maybe

Sirius had been right.

"You know Narcissa?" Harry asked, gesturing to the elegantly robed

blonde witch.

"We've met." Said blonde witch said stiffly. She did not offer her hand

for him to shake, but Remus hadn't expected her to. Known

werewolves generally didn't get that courtesy, if they got any at all.

While Remus had accepted the slight with familiar resignation, Harry

didn't seem willing to do so. The look he gave Narcissa put a visible

crack into her composed air before she stiffly offered her hand.

Remus shook it, wondering what had gotten his inner wolf's hackles

up just then.

"Let's get to the point then." Harry said, obviously ignoring what had

just occured. "Lupin, I asked Sirius to get you because Narcissa will

be putting together a revised werewolf legislation for me to propose

in the Wizengamot and I figured that having the opinion of an actual

werewolf would be for the best. You will of course be compensated

for your time."

"There's no need for that." Remus said, despite knowing with painful

clarity how little money he actually had. He was still a wizard and

didn't need much to make do.

"Remus." Sirius hissed at him with clear exasperation.

"Do you make a habit of working for free?" Harry asked sardonically.

"Well, no." Remus was forced to admit.

"Then stop being difficult. I need a reasonably intelligent werewolf

and I figured you were one since you managed to teach at

Hogwarts."

What had Sirius called Harry? Prickly? Yes, prickly was a good word

to describe James and Lily's son. Not so much in the 'easily

offended' way, but rather in a terse, abrupt way.

"Alright." Remus conceded. He still felt uncomfortable being paid to

do something that he would gladly do for free, but Harry seemed

determined to keep their interaction professional. Saddening, but not

really surprising.

"Good." Harry said with a decisive nod. "Sirius, Luna, Fleur and I will

be going to America soon, but we can get started on the outline now

so that you and Narcissa will be able to work out the specifics while

we're gone."

And so they did.

It was a bit of an odd discussion, with Sirius occasionally having

something to add but mostly just interjecting the occasional joke,

Narcissa's stiff demeanor and his own slight awkwardness.

Harry was the biggest oddity though. While he was unmistakably the

one whose presence was keeping Narcissa compliant, he was also

obviously wishing to be somewhere else. It wasn't long after they

started that he wandlessly conjured up a small ball of flame and

started moving it around. After a while he progressed to two flames

and then three.

It was distracting to have that impressive display happening right in

front of him, but Sirius had warned him that Harry could get like this.

Whenever he wasn't focused on something else, he would practice

his magic. That actually made Harry's sudden decision to support

werewolf rights more than a bit strange. If Sirius was to be believed,

Harry was mostly indifferent to the world and would barely leave his

room if it wasn't for the women in his life. Remus hoped he would get

to meet this veela that Harry had taken a shine to.

As it turned out, he did get to meet her, though not quite in the way

he expected. Then again, the instigator of that meeting had always

been unpredictable.

The conversation about the new werewolf legislation had been going

on for about an hour when his most baffling former student skipped

into the room, made a beeline for Harry, pushed him into an armchair

and plopped herself into his lap with a wiggle.

"Hello, Professor Lupin." Luna Lovegood chirped.

"Hello, Ms. Lovegood." Remus said back, bemused. He wasn't even

going to ask why she was wearing a hamster themed onesie. And

were those…? Yes, those were socks with individual toes, each a

different color.

"Nice outfit." Sirius commented, grinning like a loon.

"Thank you!" Luna beamed. "Now Boo won't be so lonely."

"Boo?" Remus asked.

"My miniature giant space hamster."

Remus blinked. What in the world was a miniature giant space

hamster?

He was given no time to puzzle it out as a vision of beauty walked

into the room. The silver-blonde hair and unnaturally flawless face

betrayed her nature as a veela. Oh yes, James would be proud.

"Luna, I told you not to bother 'Arry right now." What he presumed

was Fleur Delacour scolded with exasperation.

"It's alright, Fleur, we were just finishing up anyway." Harry said,

poking his fingers into Luna's sides and making her jump out of his

lap with a squeal. "Did you have fun with your shopping trip?"

" Oui, it may not be up to French standards, but we made do." Fleur

answered.

"Fleur was showing me how to crush the spirits of annoying men

who think they're good with women." Luna piped up again.

Fleur preened proudly.

Sirius snickered and Remus felt a smile pulling at his own lips. He

could easily imagine a woman as beautiful as Fleur being constantly

approached by hopeful men and boys. He could also imagine her

destroying their egos.

"Good for you, Luna." Harry said indulgently. "Right, introductions.

Fleur, Remus Lupin. Lupin, Fleur Delacour."

"Ah, the loup-garou you mentioned. Enchanté ." Fleur said, offering

her hand without hesitation.

"My pleasure." And Remus meant it too. He had been prepared for a

negative reaction when she had opened up with his werewolf status,

but was pleasantly surprised by her frank acceptance. Harry had

chosen well.

The beautiful veela then turned back to Harry. "Come up to the

bedroom when you finish 'ere. I 'ave something to show you."

If the blatant promise in her tone wasn't enough indication of what

she had to show him, then the steamy kiss that had Remus feeling

like a dirty voyeur certainly did the trick. Harry had definitely chosen

well.

"Will do." Harry said with a smirk. Remus had no idea how he could

even think straight after a kiss like that.

Luna took that opportunity to jump into Harry's arms and extract a

kiss of her own, skipping off after the veela with a giggle immediately

after. What a strange pair they made.

"Right, I'll let you two arrange your schedules between yourselves."

Harry said, looking between Remus and Narcissa. "I've already

arranged for your pay and a supply of Wolfsbane with Penny, but

don't hesitate to talk to her if you need additional spending money for

this project. I want it done by the time we get back from America,

understand?"

The former was aimed more at Remus and he was both grateful for

the care and embarrassed that it was coming from someone that

should by all rights still be taken care of himself. The latter was

aimed at Narcissa and had the beast within getting agitated again for

some reason.

They both murmured their agreement and Harry left, leaving just

him, Sirius and Narcissa in the room.

Remus looked at the blonde witch with a strained smile. "So, how do

you want to do this?"

Judging by the look in her eyes, she didn't want to do it at all, but

was going to anyway because Harry had ordered it. Remus never

thought he'd see the day that proud, haughty Narcissa Black would

take orders from a halfblood, yet here it was.

February 19th.

Harry weaved a subtle enchantment over Fleur and Luna, ensuring

that they wouldn't wake up as he extricated himself from the bed.

They probably wouldn't have anyway as he had quite deliberately

exhausted them earlier and then made sure that they went to bed in

such a way that he was spooning Fleur and Fleur was spooning

Luna to make it easier to get away, but no point in taking chances.

He had places to be.

Huginn and Muninn had reported that they'd finally found the Carrow

twins. The Scottish highlands were not exactly a small area and

tracking them down had been a pain even for birds.

After quickly getting dressed and flying out a short distance from the

manor in his raven form, Harry transformed back into a human,

apparated to Scotland and resumed his flight.

The Sun had long since set and it was the New Moon, leaving the

dark highlands illuminated only by the stars. It was so beautiful that

Harry was momentarily tempted to abandon his plans and just spend

a few hours flying aimlessly over the countryside. But no, he hadn't

gotten everything ready just to abandon his plans in a fit of whimsy.

He had apparated in quite far, so it took him just under an hour to

reach the house that Amycus and Alecto Carrow had built for

themselves.

It was a well built but rather modest-looking construction of stone.

The only wards on it were the ones that kept muggles away. No

surprise there, only the old family manors tended to have serious

wards installed.

Harry walked up to the door and let himself in. It wasn't even locked.

The house was predictably bigger on the inside. The furniture was

comfortable and good quality, very cozy. Maybe he could send

Kreacher to steal it all later and make it look like they'd simply moved

off without telling anyone? House-elf magic was very 'quiet' and hard

to detect…

Harry had chosen this late hour with the intention of snatching the

Carrows from their beds. That's when he beheld something that

made a wry grin grow on his face.

There was only one bed, with both Alecto and Amycus sleeping in it.

Naked.

Incest, there was a shocker. Not.

It had been one possible explanation for why brother and sister

would choose to live alone in the arse end of nowhere. Harry didn't

really have anything against incest he supposed, except if it

produced… results. There were too many bacon sniffing sycophants

in the world already.

Other than that, he was actually happy about this development. It

would make what came later that much more potent.

Harry Kept his magic tightly leashed as he took two very thin

hypodermic needles filled with a powerful sleeping potion from where

they were holstered on his belt. Ironically, sleeping wizards and

witches were more likely to detect a foreign presence than awake

ones. No conscious mind to get in the way of what they were

sensing.

Injecting both of the Carrows at once would be a bit tricky, but there

was no help for it. He could hardly just club them over the head like

he'd done to Macnair, nor could he make them drink the potion.

Luckily, the potion worked even faster when injected directly into the

bloodstream and neither of the Carrows even woke up before they

fell into the potion induced slumber.

That done, Harry took a shrunken trunk from his pocket and

unshrunk it, unceremoniously stuffing the two sleeping beauties into

it. Since that bit of magic was in the trunk itself, it wouldn't leave any

traces for the Aurors to find. Probably an unnecessary precaution

since their disappearance might not even be noted before all the

traces faded.

Amycus Carrow woke up feeling cold and uncomfortable, which was

certainly not normal.

Waking up with his arms and legs bound spread eagle in stone

shackles that looked to be growing out of the floor was even less

normal.

Catching sight of his sister tied to a chair off to the side, just as

naked as him, was downright alarming.

Noting that there seemed to be a ritual circle inscribed in blood

around his bound form and a bone-handled dagger hovering in the

air a few feet above his heart was good cause for panic.

"Alecto!" He hissed, wanting to scream yet also wanting to whisper,

as if that would keep the attention of whoever had done this away.

"Alecto, wake up!"

To his surprise, she actually did.

"Amycus?" She said groggily. "Where are we? What's going on?"

Amycus would have liked to know that himself. "I don't know, I just

woke up."

"Good morning." A third voice said, sending a chill of fear up

Amycus' spine.

He couldn't see who it was from his position, but Alecto could.

"Potter?!"

"Potter?!" Amycus echoed his twin sister's incredulity.

"The one and only." The bastard sounded amused.

Amycus exchanged an uneasy glance with his sister, not sure how to

react or what to say. Their current situation didn't portend anything

good.

"I'm sure you're wondering why you're here." Potter said after a

moment. "Firstly, you're here to answer a few questions."

"What kind of questions?" Alecto asked, trying to be strong, but

Amycus could hear the fear in her voice. He was pretty afraid himself

actually. It was hard to be anything else when you were naked and

restrained, especially with that knife hanging ominously above his

chest…

Potter stepped behind Alecto and gripped her shoulders. Amycus

could see the way his sister stiffened and felt a surge of protective

jealousy rise up inside him.

"Keep your hands off her!" He snarled.

"Or else what? You'll pelt me with harsh language?" The bastard

taunted.

"I'll kill you!" Amycus swore and he meant it. As soon as he got free,

he would kill Potter. Nobody touched his sister except him, nobody.

"Amycus!" Alecto hissed warningly.

"Well that tells me who the brains is between the two of you." Potter

smirked. "And you don't have to worry your tiny little brain over it.

Amusing as it would be to fuck your sister and make you watch,

she's far too ugly for me, even if it would be poetic justice given the

taint I can sense on your souls."

Amycus wasn't sure whether to be relieved or infuriated by that. Yes,

he knew that neither he nor his sister were classically good looking.

Their noses were somewhat flat and their eyes too far apart, which

had earned them more than a few unflattering comparisons to pigs

when they were growing up. They were also shorter than the norm,

with stooped shoulders and unattractive body shapes.

Was it any wonder that they'd found comfort in each other?

"Taint?" Alecto asked nervously.

"Oh yes, didn't you know? Every action committed leaves a mark on

one's soul for good or ill, the more impactful the action, the greater

the mark. It took me a long time before I was able to make some

sense of it and much of it still eludes me, but some things are easy

enough to puzzle out. I can tell that both of you are sadists,

murderers and rapists."

Amycus didn't know about this soul sensing business… it all

sounded like some twaddle that Dumbledore might say. Still, Potter

was right. Both he and his sister were all of that and more, you had

to be to make it as part of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

And it had felt so good to show the damn mudbloods what being a

pureblood meant and where they could stuff their lectures on the

dangers of inbreeding. As if the sub-human scum could know better

than a pureblood.

"You two are even worse than Macnair in fact. He at least was more

interested in killing than torture."

"Macnair?" Amycus repeated numbly. Hadn't he gone missing about

a week ago?

"What did you do to him?" Alecto asked fearfully.

Potter took out a strange, inward curving knife with a broad, almost

axe-like tip and placed it on behind his sister's ear. "The same thing

I'll do to you if you don't answer my questions honestly."

He wasn't smirking or taunting now. He wasn't amused anymore.

There was only a grim determination in his face and that was

somehow even more chilling than the amusement.

"You bastard, let her go!" Amycus shouted.

"I wonder how many people said that to you?" Potter said musingly,

seeming almost academic about it. "Well no matter, I guess you get

to experience the other side of things this time. Aren't you happy that

I'm willing to stoop to your level and broaden your horizons?"

"Alright, I'll tell you whatever you want, just don't hurt her." Amycus

pleaded.

Potter nodded, set up a dictation quill and started asking his

questions. Strange questions, about Voldemort and whether they

knew anyone he had entrusted with an object to guard. Amycus had

no idea what Potter was after, but he answered honestly that he

didn't know anything about that.

"Well that was a bust." Potter muttered, but didn't seem surprised or

upset. "I suppose if I ask you who would be entrusted to guard

something of his, you'd tell me it would be Bellatrix, Lucius Malfoy or

Antonin Dolohov?"

"Yes…" Amycus said slowly. Those were known to be some of the

Dark Lord's highest ranked Death Eaters, so if anyone was entrusted

with something to guard it would be them.

"Alright, let's move on then. Give me the names of every Death Eater

you know."

Amycus tensed and he could see his sister doing the same.

Betraying fellow Death Eaters was never a good idea. They tended

to take exception to that.

But Potter took exception to their silence and sliced down with the

knife, making his sister shriek in pain as her ear was severed.

Amycus struggled furiously in his stone bonds and shouted abuse,

but Potter looked neither impressed nor threatened. For the first

time, he truly understood how hard it was to watch someone you

loved suffer, much harder than suffering yourself. He didn't

appreciate the lesson.

"Names, or we see if Alecto's droopy tits look any better without

nipples." The bastard Potter said over his sister's pained whimpers

once Amycus had exhausted himself with his ineffectual struggles.

Amycus glared furiously, but started talking at Potter's raised

eyebrow, not wanting Alecto to suffer any more. He gave every

name he knew or suspected; Avery, Nott, Mulciber, Crabbe, Goyle,

Rowle, Jugson, Gibbon. At the end of it, Potter merely nodded

thoughtfully and moved on to a new subject.

"You know more than Macnair did, good." Potter said, sounding

grimly satisfied. "Now let's talk about Voldemort…"

Amycus had no idea why Potter wanted to know what the Dark Lord

was like as a man and how he led, nor did he know why he wanted

to know about the organisation of the Death Eaters and how they

had interacted with the Ministry during the war and a dozen other

things. Still, he talked to keep his sister from being maimed any

further. Alecto also contributed sometimes, but mostly just tried to

keep her pained whimpers quiet.

Finally, that line of questioning ended and Potter moved on to

something else.

"What of Lord Alexius Carrow, did he know about you two being

Death Eaters? Did he approve?"

Amycus hesitated again, causing Potter to sigh and move the blade

towards his sister's nipples.

"Yes! He knew!" Amycus quickly shouted. "He was proud of us for

taking up such a noble cause."

"Was he now? We've already established that he paid a tribute to the

Dark Lord, but did he give you anything since he was so proud?

Rare books? Magical artifacts?"

"No." Amycus spat.

"You are lying to me." Potter said coldly, ignoring Amycus' shouted

protestations, threats and pleas as he cut off Alecto's remaining ear.

"He didn't give us anything!" Amycus screamed at their captor,

enraged by his sister's pain. "All he did was give us access to some

of the books that only the main line Carrows are supposed to see.

We didn't even get much use out of them."

Potter snorted in disgust at that. Why, Amycus had no idea, nor was

he in the mood to care.

"Why are you doing this?" Alecto sobbed, blood now trickling down

her body from both sides of her head. "We never did anything to

you!"

"You never did anything to me?" Potter echoed, something

dangerous in his tone. "You think that matters? I would have been

happy to keep to myself, but Lucius Malfoy showed me how that

wasn't an option. I would have left the country and let Britain drown

in its own juices, but Voldemort will never leave me alone because of

that fucking prophecy. I won't wait for him to come back before I start

acting. I won't wait for you to be ready to restart the war. I won't have

him or you or any of the other sneering, inbred monsters infesting

this country killing my family like you killed so many others, even if I

have to personally put every last one of you into the ground."

Amycus didn't have time to think about this prophecy or about the

implication that the Dark Lord still lived or even to appreciate what a

right bastard Potter was before Alecto's hair was pulled on harshly

and the knife placed on her throat.

"NO!" He screamed over her terrified and pained shriek.

Then Potter opened up her throat and his sweet sister's blood

sprayed from the massive wound, drenching him in red.

Amycus snapped and roared unintelligibly with grief and rage and

hate. His sister had been the only person in the world that mattered

to him, the only one that had really loved him and seeing her

murdered like this was more than he could take.

The ritual circle glowed and the bone-handled dagger that he'd tried

to ignore shivered in the air. Amycus' magic slipped away from his

control and shook the room.

Then the dagger shot downward like a crossbow bolt, slipped

throught his ribs and impaled him through the heart.

Amycus' last thought was not even a thought, but rather an allconsuming hatred.

Harry stood on his bedroom's balcony, looking towards the still dark

eastern horizon.

He looked down at the sheathed bone-handled dagger in his hands

and drew it. The ten inches of once bright steel was now blackened,

but the feel of it was blacker still.

Amycus Carrow's last moments lived on in the dagger, his hate and

his rage and his need to kill to avenge the murder of his sister. The

wounds caused by it would never heal and even a small cut would

be a dire wound because of the poisonous hatred it carried.

It was a weapon of surpassing enchantment against which there was

no defense.

It was a dark artifact of the highest order, the mere possesion of

which would get a person into eyeballs deep shit with the Ministry.

For its creation, the shit was so deep that even a submarine wouldn't

be able to reach the bottom.

It was an older form of enchantment, one that the Ministries of Magic

all over the world had tried hard to stamp out, with admittedly good

reason. No Arithmancy or runework here, just blood and sacrifice.

It had been a huge, bloody mess. Kreacher had looked at him like he

was some kind of blood drenched god when he'd been called for the

clean up, the silly bugger.

"I'll call you Blackrazor." Harry muttered to his new weapon and

sheathed it again.

The ritual circle had been drawn in his blood and the dagger bound

into his service before he'd even gone to fetch the Carrows. He

alone could safely handle Blackrazor, he alone was safe from its

hate. Ironic, since it was him that the hate was aimed at most of all.

He knew it was an evil thing and something that he would have to be

extremely careful with, but it might come in handy. Plus, he'd really

wanted to try out this kind of ritual and the world would not mourn the

loss of the Carrow twins.

But he really needed to find somewhere other than Grimmauld Place

for this kind of thing. The old residence of the Black family might be

abandoned at the moment, but it was still a bit too well known for his

tastes. It had good containment and masking wards to prevent

magical leakage from being detected, that was true, but those could

be set up elsewhere just as well.

Harry continued to stand there for some time, staring towards the

slowly brightening east. Wherever this theoretical hidden sanctum

would be, it would need a proper wizard's tower. Or maybe it could

be all tower. A balcony or a porch just didn't have the same gravitas

and his inner raven liked high places.

The Sun rose and Harry breathed in deep, filling himself with its

power. The familiar burn and restless agitation was as uncomfortable

as ever, but it chased away the last vestiges of the clinging Dark,

which was always especially bad during the nights of the New Moon.

The Dark was terribly useful for silencing emotional reluctance in

order to do what needed doing, but Harry did not allow himself to

forget that the soothing sense of peace was dangerous. The balance

was more important.

He felt another miniature sunrise happening behind him as well and

smiled slightly. Fleur could put a rooster to shame with her morning

routine. Right now, she would be smiling slightly, then frowning when

she realised he wasn't there, looking around, noticing him on the

balcony, getting out of bed, putting on her favorite fuzzy blue robe

and slippers, walking towards him and…

"'Arry?"

"Good morning." He greeted without turning around.

"How long 'ave you been up?" She asked as she stepped to his side.

He could hear the slight pout in her voice.

"Twenty-four hours." Harry replied honestly. It was time to come

clean on a few things and see what came of it. He wouldn't be able

to hide what he was doing for long either way.

"But you went to bed with us! Are you telling me that you slipped

away after Luna and I fell asleep?"

"Yes."

"I must be a failure as a veela if you still felt the need to visit another

woman's bed after last night." Fleur joked. He did like that about her,

this lack of jealousy. It made life much less stressful.

"Your sexual prowess is beyond reproach, ma chérie. It was not

more sex I was after." He told her with a grin, deliberately using her

native French to butter her up a bit more.

"What was it then?"

Here it was, the moment of truth.

"I made this." He said and drew Blackrazor from its sheath.

Fleur recoiled from the dagger as if it was a rattlesnake, undoubtedly

able to sense its foul magic.

"'Arry…" She began, swallowing nervously. "Why? And 'ow?"

"Mostly to see if I could." He admitted honestly, resheathing the

blade. "As for the how… I kidnapped two people from their bed and

used their murder to power a blood ritual."

Fleur inhaled sharply and Harry could see that she was visibly

struggling put this new information into the context of what she knew.

"Explain." She ordered curtly.

Harry was happy to do so. He told her everything about his recent

actions, including Macnair.

"Good riddance then." Fleur declared unsympathetically once she

learned they had been Death Eaters. Veela had a bad history with

people like that. "But I don't understand, why are you 'unting them

now?"

"Voldemort isn't quite dead yet." He sighed.

"What?" She exclaimed in shock. "' Ow ?"

"Long story, I'll tell you when Luna wakes up. She needs to hear this

too. For now, I just want you to realise that I'm going to keep killing

his followers and that being around me will get very dangerous in the

future."

Fleur gave him a look that was pure exasperation'. "What is that

supposed to be? A chance for me to leave?"

"I hear it's the noble thing to do before bringing danger upon one's

loved ones." Harry replied with a cheeky grin.

"You should 'ave done it before I fell in love with you then, stupid

man."

"Well I didn't want you to actually leave."

"Hmph, I should 'ave expected this to be the extent of English

nobility."

"What are you talking about? I am the perfect English noble! I kept

up the appearance of decency while actually being a hypocritical

arsehole."

"Well I suppose you are at least a passable lover even if the rest of

you is disgustingly English." Fleur said in a tone of resignation. "I

might even be able to teach you to be a proper Frenchman after a

few years of work."

That demanded retribution and Harry used his day's worth of

scratchy stubble to enact it, making the veela shriek protests about

unshaved barbarians and delicate skin.

That woke up Luna and all three of them moved their fun into the

shower.

February 24th.

Tonks watched with envious eyes as Luna and Fleur stared at the

black feathers floating in front of them, a material that was plentiful

around Potter Manor these days given Harry's strange fondness for

croaking corvids.

Luna's feather shook, dipped and often fell, but she could float it

without a wand. Fleur's magic had a tilt towards the incendiary and

she frequently set her feathers on fire, but she could float them

without a wand.

Tonks could stare at feathers all day and they wouldn't budge.

An irritating finger snap pulled her attention away from her fellow

students in wandless magic, or real magic as Harry called it.

"Come on, Dora." The man himself said. "Stop pouting and pay

attention."

"I'm not pouting." Tonks pouted.

"Sure." Harry didn't sound like he agreed with her. In fact, he

sounded amused. The bastard. "Don't worry, you'll get there too."

"I know, it's just…" Tonks trailed off, struggling to find the right words

to convey her frustration without sounding ungrateful for the time he

was investing in teaching her. She knew that there were people who

would kill to be in her shoes, but it was hard not to feel at least a little

mopey after several months of no visible improvement.

"I understand. Tell you what, why don't we have a duel?"

"You want to duel? Now?" Tonks asked incredulously. Harry didn't

allow any disruptions when he was teaching, certainly not duels.

"Sort of." Harry sounded amused again. "Stunners only."

Tonks could do stunners only. She'd give him a proper pasting too.

Powerful he may be, but he wasn't unbeatable.

They took positions, she with a wand and he empty-handed and

smirking like he knew some funny secret.

Fleur took a break from her own practice to act as a referee and do

the countdown. When she reached zero, Tonks flung herself to the

side, throwing a stunner at her ex-boyfriend/teacher.

Harry didn't move. He stood there and let the stunner hit him centermass. It splashed across his chest and did absolutely nothing.

"What the fuck?!" Tonks demanded, mouth hanging open in pure

shock. Fleur giggled at her expression and went back to her own

practice.

"What's wrong, Grasshopper?"

"Why are you not unconscious?!" She ignored the Kung Fu

reference. If Harry was immune to stunners now, Tonks was pretty

sure that she was going to slap him simply for being too fucking

bullshit.

"Because I don't want to be."

That didn't explain a damn thing.

"Why does it matter what you want? It's a stunner, it's supposed to

stun you!"

"You finally ask the right questions, Grasshopper. Why does it matter

what I want?"

Tonks should have figured he was up to something when he

proposed that they duel.

"You can't be telling me that you could ignore my spell just because

you didn't want it to affect you." That would be, as previously noted,

bullshit.

Harry adopted a particular expression, the very same one that

always made her think that he needed to grow some wispy white

facial hair and squint his eyes to complete the image of a kooky

Chinese mystic.

"Describe a rock to me."

Aaaand there it was. Kooky Chinese mystic mode.

"What kind of rock?" She asked with a sigh.

"Any kind."

"Hard, grey, um, cold? Stony?" Who knew that describing a rock

would be so difficult?

"So the rock is hard, how would you make it soft?"

"I'd transfigure it into a cushion or something."

"And why would the rock change according to your whims? It's

existed in the same state for millions of years, why should the rock

give a single fuck about what you want?"

"It's a rock ." Tonks said slowly, trying not to let her exasperation

show. "It doesn't want anything."

"True, the rock is at your mercy if you decide that you need a

cushion for your pretty arse, but what if there is no rock? What if

there is only me and you are in desperate need of butt padding?

Could you transfigure me into a cushion?"

"That's different!" She huffed. "Human transfiguration is really hard

and you're way too powerful for me to transfigure."

"Is that so?" He said with a grin. "Step closer."

She did so, looking at him quizzically.

"Now punch me in the gut."

"What?" Tonks goggled.

"Punch me in the gut."

With a shrug and a grin, she punched her ex-boyfriend in the gut. He

was tensed for it and only grunted slightly at the hit.

"Did you put your all into that punch?" He asked.

"Of course not." Tonks scoffed. He knew damn well that she could

morph herself into a hugely muscled amazon or even a guy if she

wanted too. "You'd be puking your guts out if I did that."

"Did you put your all into the stunner?"

That made her pause. "No, I expected you to dodge."

Harry smiled. "Your spell had no conviction."

Ah, so he had been prepared and her spell had been weak because

she had expected it to miss.

Without letting on to her thoughts, Tonks punched Harry in the gut

again. He wasn't ready this time and bent over with an 'oomph'.

"Your gut has no conviction." She said smugly.

"Cute, but at least you get the idea." He said dryly, rubbing his

abdomen. "Now cast another stunner at me."

Tonks stepped back so that she was at optimum spell range and cast

the most powerful stunner she could muster at him, pouring all her

desire to knock him out into it.

Harry didn't dodge like she half-expected him to and instead allowed

himself to be hit. Her spell drove him to his knees and he looked like

he was barely clinging to consciousness.

"You okay?" She asked after a minute of seeing him struggle shake it

off. She was still a bit miffed that he wasn't out cold, but also very

impressed. That stunner had been no joke.

"Yeah, I'm good." He huffed, electing to sit crosslegged on the floor

instead of getting back up. "Now put the wand away and sit your butt

back down."

Tonks very deliberately did not groan or pout as she did so. She had

been hoping for something a little more active than usual.

"So, was there a point to that?" She asked instead.

"No, I just love tanking full power spells."

"You should've told me sooner then, because I love casting full

power spells at people."

"Great, I'll keep it in mind."

Tonks grinned at the sarcastic banter, but sobered up quickly. "I

suppose you want me to explain to you what just happened here?"

"You suppose correctly." Harry nodded.

"Well the punches were obviously metaphors for the stunners." She

began.

"For any spell." He corrected "Your body is easier to control than

your magic, but a punch and a spell are not that different in their

basic nature. Both are an action taken, spells just happen to be far

more complex."

"Right. And you're implying that I could force a transfiguration on you

if I caught you by surprise?"

"Any spell is easier if the victim is taken by surprise."

"Uh huh, and you resisted my stunners by, uh, tensing your magic?"

"Not exactly. Why do most magical creatures have some level of

magic resistance?"

Tonks blinked at the abrupt subject change. Damnit, she really

should be used to him doing this by now. "I don't know, they just do."

Harry gave her an admonishing look and Tonks found herself

ducking her head, knowing how he disliked that answer.

"Their magic is fully invested into their bodies. It gives them all sorts

of strange properties that are in defiance of the laws of physics. It's

also what gives them their magic resistance and makes them useful

as potion ingredients. Do you know why human blood or body parts

are almost never used in potions?"

"Because it's incredibly illegal?"

"The law is irrelevant. Human potion ingredients are rarely used

because they generally don't have much effect in the case of

muggles, or have very unpredictable effects in the case of wizards

and witches. Our magic isn't really invested in our bodies you see,

but our minds. That's why we can cast spells and a dragon can't."

"But our blood is magical, and so is the rest of us. That's a known

fact." As a Metamorphmagus, Tonks knew that better than most.

"True, but that's a consequence of us inhabiting these bodies rather

than our bodies being innately magical. It also makes our base

'magical properties' highly variable from one person to the next."

"What?"

"Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter."

Tonks burst into surprised laughter. "If you say so, Master Yoda."

"Mock me you will not." Harry said sternly and cast a Stinging Hex at

her arm.

"Hey!" She yelped in protest, giving him a pouty sort of glare. It

barely even stung, but it was the principle of the thing.

"Joking aside, there is a lot of truth in that quote. Our flesh and blood

registers as magical but that fades soon after we die, something that

doesn't happen with magical creatures. Why do you think ghosts are

possible? Or Legilimency or any other example of mind over matter?

Why do you think casting within the aura-space of other magi is a

chancy proposition? Our thoughts are not confined to our skulls like

a non-magical person's or a magical creature's, they intrude on the

world around us-"

"Wait a second!" Tonks interrupted, a thought occuring to her. "How

do you explain squibs then? We know they're magical."

Harry pursed his lips, looking quite irritated, though she felt it was by

the topic rather than her interruption. "An anomaly I haven't really

figured out yet. They have magic in their bodies but can't consciously

use it. Using the Ministry's altogether terrible classification system,

squibs are closer to magical creatures than mages or any other life

form capable of conscious magic use. They could either be the result

of some kind of birth defect or a rare, secondary expression of magic

in the human race that causes the magic to be invested into the

squibs' bodies rather than their minds. I don't have any evidence to

suggest one over the other."

"Does that mean that squibs would make good potion ingredients?"

The morbid question slipped out of Tonks' mouth before she could

think better of it.

Harry seemed pleased though, if the way he grinned at her was any

indication. "They do actually. Pelagius Black, a branch member of

the Black family back in the 13th century did an extensive study on

the topic and discovered that squib parts can be used to make highly

effective healing potions and salves, as welll as equally effective

poisons. Obviously, the Blacks kept this to themselves."

"Obviously." Tonks muttered in agreement. That kind of thing was of

course extremely illegal. There may not have been a Ministry of

Magic in the 13th century and the 'magical community' may have

been more of a loose collection of families, but she was pretty sure

that using people as potions ingredients would be frowned upon by

others, even if it was just to avoid setting some very dangerous

precedents.

"Right, now as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted - the

thoughts of wizards and witches intrude on the world around us,

attempting to change it to suit our perceptions when those

perceptions clash with reality. The effect is negligible in most

cases… a freshly painted wall obviously isn't going to automatically

dry itself just because we expect it to be dry for example. Spells are

mental constructs however, and far more vulnerable to the intruding

thoughts of others."

"Wouldn't that mean that spells shouldn't work at all on other

magicals?"

Harry frowned. "I didn't explain that properly. Think of it like this… an

unfinished spell is like molten steel, soft and malleable. But you can't

shape a sword any further once the steel is cooled. The analogy isn't

perfect of course, some spells, such as the ubiquitous Accio, are of a

soft type that tend to fail when it reaches another's aura-space. Only

in cases of an extreme power mismatch - and by extreme I mean

Dumbledore versus your average first year or something like that -

can one wizard outright ignore the spells of another."

"How did you ignore my first stunner then? Because I'm pretty sure

we aren't that far apart power-wise."

"I didn't ignore it, I was ready for it. A witch or wizard's aura is in a

neutral state most of the time and provides only minimal protection

against incoming spells. The aura of someone in combat is highstrung and agitated, but still doesn't offer much protection. I've

learned to manipulate my aura and prepared myself to resist your

stunner. If we go back to the sword analogy from earlier, your first

spell was like a blade of glass, its power easily shattered. The

second one was steel and took everything I had to stay conscious."

"Seriously?"

That was fucking bullshit.

"Don't give me that look, it's not as if it's combat useful since

shielding spells are both far more versatile, efficient and easier to

use. Mostly it's just a good mental exercise and a trick to look cool."

"It's still bullshit." Tonks grumbled.

"You want to learn it?"

"Fuck yes I want to learn it."

"Then get to meditating."

This time Tonks did groan. She had done so much meditating since

she started learning from Harry that there was a real danger of

converting to Buddhism by accident. Still, she was persistent if

nothing else and didn't complain more than that.

If nothing else, it was improving her Occlumency.

Harry moved further away and started talking as soon as she was

settled in.

"Remember what we talked about just now and what you've learned

before this. Your soul is anchored to your body, but not truly part of it.

Your mind is a function of your brain, but not restricted to it. Your

magic exists in the intersection of mind, body and soul, that is the

crux of our existence and the seat of our power. As a

Metamorphmagus, you more than anyone are not shackled by the

limitations of your flesh. Shut out physical input and turn your focus

inward. Blind your eyes, deafen your ears and numb your nerves,

they are only distractions and won't help you here. Magic can't be

heard, can't be seen, touched, tasted or smelled, it can only be

known ."

"You want me to turn myself into a vegetable?" Tonks asked

incredulously.

"More like a brain in a jar." He said with an infuriating smirk.

"I'm not really comfortable with that."

"That which takes us far is never comfortable."

"And turning myself into a pickled brain is going to take me far, is it?"

"Hopefully."

"Fine, but if I'm doing that, then I'm lying down." Tonks huffed.

"Sure."

Harry watched the still body of his ex-girlfriend where it was lying on

a comfortable couch. Fleur and Luna had long since left.

Dora was doing well, had been doing well for some time. Getting her

to stop taking magic for granted had taken a while, but he had

managed it and her presence had been steadily gaining strength

since then.

It was an odd thing, what magic did to people, how it moved them

away from conventional humanity. Most wizards and witches were

weak, thinking nothing of their gifts and would not be overly

inconvenienced by the loss of them if they knew how to live like

normal people.

The powerful were different. It was subtle, but it could be seen if you

knew what to look for.

Like he had told Dora. The thoughts of magi are not confined to their

skulls and pressed against the world around them. Their auras were

constantly seeking to change their immediate area of influence.

Harry had already noted that he could now cause electronics to fail

by flaring his aura, which he hadn't been able to do before. The

magic versus electricity issue had interested him since he'd first

heard of it, but the British had predictably not put much effort into

finding out the specifics. Harry theorised that it happened because

electronics relied on a very precise application of the laws of physics

to work and since he didn't know the minute details of how they

worked, his aura ruined them if he flared it. Hogwarts and other

magic heavy areas were a bit harder figure out, but he figured that

the thick magic concentrations warped the laws of phsysics as well.

It was the best explanation he had.

But that was not the most interesting side-effect. No, that distinction

belonged to their interaction with other magicals. As he had told

Dora months ago, the ordinary, non-magical part of humanity was

self-contained and deaf to magic. Even the weakest wizard had

enough magical awareness to see spells, but they did not.

But this obliviousness to magic had advantages too. For one thing,

they were immune to the effects of raw magic.

The souls of the powerful were weighty things, pulling on those

weaker than them like a star's gravity pulled on the planets orbiting

it. The Joining was a more refined, focused version of this, one that

also bypassed the usual barriers that people put up, but every witch

or wizard had an aura of influence. The exceptionally powerful had

one strong enough to affect others. It had negligible effects on those

that didn't already look up to the one doing the influencing, the

aforementioned barriers blocking the worst of it, but it was something

to be noted.

Voldemort had done it to his followers, Harry saw that in the way that

Parkinson's aura had cowered like a beaten dog when he'd pushed

his own against it. Macnair and the Carrows had been similar. The

Death Eaters were used to being bullied by someone vastly more

powerful than them.

For all the effort he expended to project the ultimate good guy

image, Dumbledore did it too, that could be seen in the way his

followers trusted him blindly. Harry had seen it himself in McGonagall

and gotten second-hand accounts of that kind of behavior from

Sirius. Dumbledore wanted people to fall in line with his plans, and

the suckers that believed him to be the greatest thing since sliced

bread got pulled in even deeper by the old man's aura.

Harry wondered sometimes if they did it on purpose like him as well

as passively. Probably both, they were certainly powerful enough

that they couldn't fail to be capable of it. He also wondered if this

was the root cause of Dumbledore's attempts to present himself as a

mentor. Had he wanted Harry to be pulled into his orbit as it were?

Or did he simply not think anyone but him was wise enough to have

that kind of power? Did he trust even himself with it? Was that the

reason why he was so limp-wristed? Or was the truth more sinister,

with the Headmaster using Hogwarts to influence every magical child

that passed through its halls?

Harry figured he'd probably never know, not with the way

Dumbledore hoarded knowledge. Not that he had much room to talk

on that score. He was just glad that his grandparents' portraits had

instilled a deep distrust of the old man in him. That would have done

the trick to keep him from being drawn in while he was still weak.

Dora would soon be able to sense magic. It was the first step in

learning how to use it without the crutch of a wand and she was

nearly there. It had been a struggle teaching her how to do this

without employing the Joining as a tool the way he'd done with Luna

and Fleur, but he had finally come upon the idea of using her

Metamorph ability to induce physical sensory deprivation and leave

her with nothing but her spiritual senses. It might have taken months

more or even years without that ability and decades without his

teaching.

Was it any wonder that the wizards and witches of old had been grey

before they achieved any appreciable power?

Harry became more aware of just how badly he had cheated on this

score every day. Bjomolf had spoken the truth, he should be dead or

worse. He had gone over his well hidden notes on the rune carving

rituals with a more experienced and knowledgeable eye since that

meeting and knew that the vampire had been right. He should be

dead. Or worse.

The Norse set of runes wasn't a problem. Sometimes inconvenient

with the way it messed with his hormone production, but nothing

unmanageable once he got used to it. Well worth it to speed his

maturation and ensure that his body grew tall and strong. A small

inconvenience for a small gain.

The Kanji set was also not a problem. Sometimes inconvenient with

the way it flushed even beneficial 'poisons' and foreign magic from

his body, but nothing to really complain about. Well worth it to keep

him at peak efficiency at all times. Also a small inconvenience for a

small gain.

The two Avariel sets though… either one should have killed him.

One should have hollowed him out until he was only an empty husk

and the other should have burned him from the inside out. Only the

most unimaginably absurd luck of circumstance and timing had

conspired to keep him alive and mostly whole.

Only luck had kept the true nature of Arhain dormant until he

inadvertently sacrificed Pettigrew to the Void and awoke it.

Only luck had kept the hungry Dark focused on the piece of

Voldemort's less firmly anchored soul instead of his own.

Only luck saw to it that he had already finished most of his

preparation for the next ritual and that it only required minor

alteration. More luck that he'd managed to get it right in the little time

he'd had to think.

Only luck that his final ritual had allowed him to perceive the soul

shard and force it out.

Only luck that it had left enough of a metaphorical hole in his soul

that the Sun's burning power had an exit and didn't fry him and more

luck that that very same power prevented the Void from consuming

the rest of him.

Harry wouldn't soon forget the cold sweat he'd broken into when he'd

realised just how thin the razor's edge had been. He would dearly

love to know the specifics of the vampire and succubi magics that

allowed them to survive making the Dark and Light part of their

being, because his method had been nothing short of suicidal.

Valuable, oh so valuable. There were not enough riches or women in

the world to entice him into giving up what those runes had given

him, but it had still been monumentally stupid to carve them in the

first place. Harry doubted there had been a more reckless action

done in the entire history of recklessness. A survived reckless action

at least, as the graveyard of reckless idiots less lucky than him would

probably stretch from horizon to horizon.

Harry wiped a hand down his face to snap himself out of his woolgathering and focused back on his ex-girlfriend.

Her aura had a more watchful feel to it, so he figured that she had

achieved what he had hoped without her physical senses getting in

the way. He just had to make sure.

He conjured a pebble, smiling widely when he felt her aura ripple.

Conjuration was magically 'loud' and she had clearly sensed it.

Next, he gripped the pebble with a levitation spell and floated it over

to her, smile widening at the continued reactions he was sensing

from her.

He moved the pebble around for a while and then positioned it above

her head, slowly lowering it towards her nose, the wide smile turning

into an outright grin when she instinctively snatched it from the air

with her hand, coming out of the trance with a start.

"Wha…?" She said, blinking around with confused eyes.

Harry left her to it for a minute. It would take some time for her to get

used to physical input again.

"Grasshopper, you have snatched the pebble from my hand." He

quipped once she looked to have her wits about her again.

She looked at the conjured pebble in her hand and smiled widely. "I

did, didn't I? I felt it moving, it was like…"

Words failed her, but Harry understood. Magic sensing was not an

exact science and Dora did not have the advantage of the twin Sol

runes that Harry had paid for with blood, pain and very nearly his life.

Trying to describe it with words would be like trying to describe color

to the blind or the movement of a shadow in the dark.

"Congratulations, you've taken a significant step forward today." He

said with a proud smile.

"Damn straight!" She cheered, all but bouncing off the couch.

Harry was almost sorry about what he was going to say next.

Almost. "Now you get to spend even more time a day meditating."

Dora groaned, a long, loud and severely exaggerated sound of

despair.

"Can't we just skip ahead to the fireballs and lightning?" She whined.

"I tried that with Luna and it didn't work." Harry replied, amused.

"Nope, I'm afraid it's going to be meditation for you to refine this new

ability and then more meditation until you learn how to sense magic

without shutting out your physical senses. Then comes learning how

to project your magic onto the mundane world rather than just

sensing foreign magic, which will naturally involve quite a bit of

meditation as well. After that we might be able to progress towards

learning spellweaving, from which will follow the fireballs and

lightning."

"Is that going to involve meditation too?" She asked snippily.

"No." Harry smirked. "That's going to involve the rough equivalent of

doing complex math in your head while balancing on a tightrope."

Dora stared at him for a moment and then sighed with a slump. "No

wonder Sirius gave up on learning this."

"Sirius is also - despite what his energetic personality might lead you

to think - a bit lazy. But you aren't like that, are you?"

She feigned offense at his implication. "Bring it on! A Hufflepuff never

gives up!"

"That's good to hear, I'd hate to think that all this meditating has been

for nothing." He joked.

"I suppose you want me to keep at it while you're gone?" She asked

wryly.

"You could come with us." Harry offered. Not only would everyone be

happy to have her along, but it would also allow him to keep teaching

her. Additionally, it would get her some more life experience, which

was an important factor in the power of one's magic. There was only

so much that a person could grow while working a regular job, even

one as theoretically exciting as being an Auror.

"Scrimgeour has barely gotten out of the snit he was in over the time

off I took during the summer and you want me to take even more

time off?" She asked, smiling in bemusement.

"Feh, who cares about Scrimgeour?" Harry waved off. "Tell him it's a

training trip or something if you must."

"I'm tempted, but I have to decline." She replied with a teasing note

in her voice. "I actually like my job, despite all the little annoyances

that come with it."

"But who will help me squander my inheritance?" He lamented

jokingly, getting a laugh out of her.

"Fleur is more than up to the task, I'm sure. The French are good at

spending money, aren't they?" She joked back.

"I don't know if that's a legitimate French stereotype or not, so I

couldn't say." Harry mused and decided to change the subject. "If

you're not coming with us, then you can at least stay for dinner to

celebrate your achievement."

"Well if you're gonna twist my arm like that…"

After dinner was finished, Harry asked Luna, Fleur, Tonks and Sirius

to come with him, saying that he had something for them.

"Right, as you know, we're leaving in a few days." Harry began once

they reached the empty room he had led them to. "With that in mind,

I got you all some gifts."

The gift recipients were a bit bemused by this, being well aware that

Harry was the type that would forget it was Christmas if not for all the

hype around the season.

They were even more bemused when the gifts turned out to be a

pair of daggers for each, one long and one short. The long one

looked to be about twelve inches long, while the short one was no

more than six. Both had only minimal crossguards and no

ornamentation except for a handsome oval hilt made of wood. The

blade was plain double edged steel.

"The larger one is meant to sit on your waist while the smaller goes

into a boot, but you can switch it up if you want since the sheaths are

enchanted to be larger on the inside anyway. There is also an

attention redirecting enchantment on the sheaths that will only be

active when the blades are in them." Harry explained.

"You know, Harry, girls usually prefer jewelry over knives." Sirius

opined.

"Screw that, knives are way better than jewelry." Tonks said happily,

inspecting her new daggers.

Harry gave his godfather a smug look.

"Tonks doesn't count, she isn't normal." Sirius defended, ignoring the

childish raspberry his shapeshifting cousin blew him in response.

"How about you Fleur, wouldn't you rather have had a nice pair of

diamond earrings?"

" Non, diamonds wash out my complexion."

"And you can't stab anyone with diamonds." Luna added and then

paused. "Not easily at least."

"And on that note, Harry, are you thinking that we'll need to stab

someone?" Sirius asked pointedly.

"You never know. We're going to a foreign country and I don't want

us taking any chances."

"It's America, not the bloody jungle." Sirius said, exasperated.

"And America is full of people, way more dangerous than a jungle.

Either way, I don't want any of us being unarmed."

"We have our wands and you don't even need that." Sirius argued,

watching Luna mime stabbing with some nervousness.

"You can't stab someone with a wand." Harry said, channeling Luna

with a perfectly straight face. "Besides, if they got close enough for

stabbing then your wand will be useless anyway and vice versa."

"Moody would love you." Tonks snorted with an eyeroll. "I'll just

assume you got them for me too because of my job?"

"Exactly." Harry confirmed, pleased that she understood. "I

enchanted the daggers as well. They have all the usual stuff on

them; increased durability and sharpness, a nasty shock if anyone

but the owner tries to use them and a little spell that will turn the

blade towards the direction you throw it if you ever do that… just put

a drop of your blood on the pommel to key them to yourself."

"Harry, I know that Magical Britain has no laws against carrying

bladed weaponry, but have you checked if the Americans do?" Tonks

asked.

Harry frowned. "No, I didn't. Even if they do, I'm not going to listen to

any demands to disarm made by the Americans of all people. If all

goes well they'll never know about these anyway."

"Word." Sirius said, making everyone stare at him. "What?"

"Sirius, why are you using weird American slang?" Harry asked

patiently.

"You aren't the only one that's been preparing for this trip. I've been

brushing up on my American lingo."

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking back

at his godfather. "I'd suggest you forget about everything you

'brushed up on' or you might actually end up needing those

daggers."

章節 27: Chapter 29

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章節 27: Chapter 29

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