Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Green eyes opened and blankly studied the underside of a set of stairs, before a frown slowly appreared.

“Tempus et locus.” The owner of those eyes, whispered, almost silently.

11:01pm

29^th April 1990

Cupboard Under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive,

Little Whinging,

SURREY

It took a few moments for the owner of those green eyes, to realise what he was seeing. When he did, a vicious smile, that was more a baring of teeth, crossed his face.

“Fuck Hermione Weasley!” He spat. “And fuck her darling Ronald, too.” Then a darker expression settled on the young face. “More importantly, fuck Ginevra Weasley! I hope you all rot in hell.” A few seconds pause. “Together! You deserve it.”

Then, Harry Potter, now aged nine years old, sat in his cupboard and mused.

“Which plan to go with?” He whispered. “Kill them all?” His head rocked from side to side, as he considered the possibility. “Pros and cons to that. Too many deaths, in too short a timeframe, will attract attention from the DMLE. Hmmm… Vanish into thin air? Ugh. More cons to that, than pros, unfortunately. Albus Too-Many-Names Dumbledore will have everyone out looking, within hours of the wards falling. Dealing with Tom and Albus, upfront, and staying Harry? Do-able, but… Ugh. Still have to deal with Ginny-darling, if I do that. What else is there?” He hummed to himself for a few minutes.

“Well, going to Lord Black is a possibility, I suppose, but I don’t particularly want to deal with the purebloods. And after Hermione’s latest bombshell, I won’t be trusting Remus or Sirius, either. Faking their deaths, just so they can get their hands on what little that James Potter left me. Bastards, the lot of them.” He huffed. “That leaves… not being Harry, at all, and dealing with Tom and Albus upfront, then the others over time. Yeah. That sounds good, let’s do that.”

He hummed some more. “Finances… Well, I can raid the Room of Requirement for money, gems, jewellery and the like. Might be lucky and pick up an extended trunk or even a mage-space. But I should be able to get the Room to provide bloodline conversion potions. Just have to decide on what bloodline. Not doing the Potters. James-darling left everything to Albus. Not to mention the bloody amortentia he dosed mum with. Fuck, I’m glad I’m not his kid. Mind… being Snape’s kid is (sigh…), yeah… Not safe, right now. Bloodline conversions are needed. Not keen on doing Black, Sirius faking his death, just for the chance to steal from me? No, can’t trust him, either. Or Remus, for the same reason.” He snorted. “Sucks to be Tonks, having to share her husband with her cousin, but she’s a Black, so she was probably screwing both of them, anyway.”

He heaved a sigh and dragged himself to his feet, glad that Petunia hadn’t started locking him in until the Christmas of their last year of primary school, the door opened without a sound and the messy haired boy silently stepped out.

“How fortunate that Albus sent darling Aunt Petunia a coin pouch, so she can take out her £500 each month without having to visit Gringotts, in person. Even more fortunate that it’s linked to my trust vault.” His smile was a bitter slash across his face. But that didn’t stop him from climbing the stairs and after quietly opening Dudley’s bedroom door, slipping across the room and laying a small hand on the arm sticking out of his cousin’s blankets.

Pushing magic at a muggle or squib, like this, would knock them out just as effectively as a stunner and for just as long, but as Harry hadn’t actually attempted to cast anything, or to have his magic actually do anything, it shouldn’t register on the underage network, which a stupefy would do. And unfortunately, he knew that sooner or later, he'd have to cast a series of charms, he needed something to carry everything in, after all.

Another minute and both Aunt and Uncle were unconscious, as well. This left Harry in relative peace to raid the house.

First on the list, was a decent meal, or as decent as he could do at half-past midnight, without turning the kitchen’s overhead lights on. That equated to a sandwich, heavily laden with ham and cheese, washed down by a large glass of milk, with a second sandwich, a packet of crisps, an apple, a banana and two small bottles of juice, for later, when he had more time to enjoy them. Right now, he was on a tight schedule. There was a lot to do before he left and the Dursley’s would wake up, sooner or later.

Once his immediate hunger was sated, Harry returned to Dudley's room and went scavenging for a small bag, something close to the size of a coin pouch, he needed to recreate Hermione’s beaded bag or something similar. Thankfully, two years of Auror training and a third on Auror duty, had taught him a lot. Far more than either Hermione or Ron were happy with, but too bad for them, it was standard, everyone going through Auror training was taught, so even with Ron attempting to distract him, Harry still learnt a lot. Far more than he let on.

The downside to recreating that bag, was that now Harry had to actually cast magic on it, or in it, or at it, whichever you would prefer to call it. And that would register on the network. Upside? The network wasn’t manned overnight and unless he did something that caused a major spike, the Aurors shouldn’t be alerted, either. He had until between 7am, if he was unlucky, and 9am, if he was really lucky, before someone would enter the office to check the overnight records.

Subtle was the order of the night.

Hopefully, he could get the RoR to delete any record of what he did tonight. If not, they’d be looking for Harry Potter and he was fairly confident that Harry Potter wouldn’t exist by then.

Back in Petunia’s bedroom, he opened the wardrobe and lifted free its false floor. From under it, he pulled out a shoe box, this he laid on the carpet beside him. Lifting the lid, he reached for one of the shrunken trunks, only to pause.

Would Dumbledore have placed an alert on them?

A weak wandless detection charm showed no evidence of Albus’ magical signature, so Harry took a deep breath and shrugged, reaching for a trunk. Both were opened and the contents of jewellery boxes and coin purses were slipped into his newly expanded bum-bag, before he put them back and pulled out the coin pouch left by Dumbledore.

He studied it for a few seconds before smirking. He quickly grabbed Petunia’s purse and popped open the coin section, a quiet lumos showed him what coins she had and he took out a pair of 5p coins, which he dropped into the empty coin pouch, then it was a simple matter to place the copy of his vault key, that Petunia kept in her jewellery box, into the pouch, before he spoke in a voice glamoured to sound like Petunia’s.

“Deposit to vault 687.” With a small pulse of goblin magic, the coins vanished. He gave it a few seconds before speaking again. “Withdrawal, all ʛalleons, §ickles, κnuts, draughts, gold, gems, jewellery and books from vault 687.” And another small pulse of goblin magic had coins appearing in the pouch. Knowing that the goblins could recall the pouch, Harry didn’t plan to leave his haul in it for very long, but he needed to wait for the vibrations to end before he did anything more.

And cross his fingers that there wasn’t some type of alert or alarm, on larger withdrawals, that would have Gringotts taking action to counter what he was doing, before he had transferred the contents to his bum-bag.

Once the vibrations ceased, Harry removed the key and after polishing off his fingerprints with his shirt, placed it back in the jewellery box. No need to make things easy for anyone investigating a theft. He picked up the pouch by the base and up-ended it over the expansion and featherlight-charmed bum-bag and waited for the stream of coins and occasional other item to trickle to a halt. A quick shake of the pouch to double check that it was empty and it was placed alongside the trunks, back in the shoe box, which in turn, was placed back under the false floor of the wardrobe. The bum-bag was zipped up and slipped over Harry’s shoulder, as he left the room.

A second stop in Dudley's room, got Harry a backpack, a baseball hat, a clean change of clothes and a pair of running shoes that Dudley wouldn’t wear.

As he reached the kitchen door, he paused and smirked. He retraced his steps and in the two bedrooms, cast the cleansing charms that Aurors used when needing to remove all traces of their magical signatures, in both rooms.

Then he just left.

Down the stairs, pick up the prepared food and drink bottles, out the door and through the back gate. He made his way to Mrs Figg’s place and after casting a sleeping charm through the window of what he knew to be her bedroom, he let himself in through the back door and quickly followed up with the signature removing charm. Then he floo-ed to the ruins of the Cock and Bull in Hogsmeade, thankful that only a few knew that the fireplace there still worked. The DMLE had fireplaces in most wizarding settlements, that were known only to the Auror corps.

An adult Ron would know, but a recently turned ten-years-old Ron wouldn’t. Nor would Albus too-many-names Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall might, but her oaths to the department would see her staying quiet, if it even occurred to her.

From there, he ducked around the back of the Three Broomsticks to reach the crossroads at the edge of the village. The statue there was his destination, or rather, the secret passage hidden in its pedestal.

A secret passage that lead into Hogwarts.

But one that still left him on the fourth floor, while the Room of Requirement was on the seventh. Three floors. In the middle of the night. In the middle of the spring term.

He wasn’t concerned about prefects, their patrols finished at midnight and it was now, nearly one-thirty. He was just hoping that Filch and Mrs Norris weren’t out for a midnight stroll, as they frequently liked to do. As for other staff? No-one usually was out and about after midnight, not even Snape or Dumbledore. And as he wasn’t going through the wards, the tunnels mostly going under instead of through, they shouldn’t alert the Headmaster to his entrance.

Finally, he saw the Room’s door fade into being and with a sigh of relief he pushed it open and slipped inside, closing it behind him.

Safe.

For now...

He looked out across the towers of junk, piled high towards the vaulted ceiling.

“Well… where to start?” He whispered, refusing to let shock hamper him until he was sure he’d done everything he could. “I suppose Tom and Albus should be first, then bloodline conversions, followed by finances and somewhere to live. Maybe a magical guardian?” He frowned. “Hmm… have to think about that one a bit more. I’ll need to make a list.”

As he spoke a blackboard appeared, rolling out from between two piles and around a third. A broken stick of chalk was picked up by an invisible hand and Harry’s short to-do list was written on it, in neat block letters.

“Right.” He nodded. “Tom first. I need an exclusion bubble. Six inches in diameter, up against my forehead. Right over my scar. Hogwarts... please… help me get the horcrux out of my head, without killing me.” The lest sentence was whispered, in an almost begging voice.

A flash of heat, a heartbeat of excruciating pain, a trickle of blood down Harry’s cheek, a now blackened exclusion bubble and a sense of light, giddiness, told Harry that whatever Hogwarts had done, it had succeeded. The pressure inside his head, that even three years later he still remembered, was gone.

“Dissipate the soul-shard in the bubble.” He ordered and over the course of a few minutes, the contents of the bubble began to clear, until it was barely translucent. Then the bubble shattered with a burst of shimmering, glittery light.

It took another fifteen minutes before five more bubbles were formed and cleared. Then it was the turn of the final piece of Tom Marvolo Riddle to be cleansed from the living world.

“You’re free, Tom.” Harry whispered. “Free from prophecy. Free from Albus. And free from me. Be at peace.” The seventh bubble burst into a glitter of light, that slowly faded away.

There was a sigh of sound and a beath of breeze, as the light faded and then everything was still again.

“Right, Albus next.” He tilted his head and hummed. “I, Harry James Potter, Master of Death, rightfully claim my wand, my cloak and my stone. Come to me.” He held out a hand and pointed it at the floor in front of him. There was a clatter as the Elder wand appeared, closely followed a ring and a swath of fabric.

He studied them for a moment before smirking. With scarcely a thought, a second wand appeared beside the first. It, too, was elder and thestral hair, but where one had a tail hair and elder berries carved down its length, the second was plain, with little to no embellishment and held a strand of mane hair. It took nearly a minute for the second wand to be re-shaped into a perfect replica of the Hallow, without affecting its ability to be channel magic.

Once it was complete, Harry spoke again.

“I, Harry James Potter, Master of Death, pass safekeeping of my wand back to Death, may they protect it for all eternity.” The wand flared with light and in a heartbeat, was gone.

“Excellent.” He grinned. “Once I’ve had a chat with mum, I’ll give you back the ring, but I’m going to keep the cloak, I just have to figure out a way to keep it safe from Albus.”

The cloak fluttered in his direction and as it touched his skin, it shimmered and with a tingle, it was sucked into his arm, re-appearing as a faintly glistening line around his wrist.

“Whoa…” Harry gasped, he could feel the cloak humming under his skin. A hum that quickly settled to a brush of magic, almost like the feel of a warm breeze on a sunny afternoon. “Okay, then. But unless I call you, you need to stay hidden, or we’ll end up in the DoM, faster than you can say Hogwarts.” The cloak hummed its agreement. “Good. I’m going to send the fake elder wand to Albus, along with an invisibility cloak from the room. Then I’ll get rid of Tom’s curses on the ring. Have a chat with mum and then get back to my list. I’ve no idea when I’m going to need to call on you next, so just… I don’t know… take a nap or something.” The humming faded to a memory. “I’m going to take that as agreement. So? Let’s get Tom’s curses dealt with. Hmmm. I think I’m going to need a wand from-” he paused as the real Elder wand reappeared in front of him. “Uh…? Thanks?” He grimaced as he took hold of it, feeling the wand warm in his hand.

Five minutes of hissed counter-charms and the ring showed nothing of Tom’s signature and the Elder wand had faded away, again.

“Done. Let’s chat that with mum.” He let the stone turn in his hand and watched as his mother appeared.

“Harry?” She frowned.

“Hello, mum.” He just looked at her.

“What have you done, Harry?” Lily looked confused.

“Oh, I didn’t do anything.” Harry grinned, viciously. “Hermione did it. She screwed it up, but she still did it.”

“Harry?”

“How much do you know about time travel?”

“About time travel? Not a lot. About what happened to you? I saw it. I watched it all.” Lily whispered.

“Then you know that Sirius abandoned me and spent twelve years in jail, before abandoning me a second time.”

“Yes…” The shade’s whisper was almost soundless.

“And Remus did much the same.”

“Yes…”

“And James fed you amortentia, after Sirius caught you and Snape together in Edinburgh. You were already pregnant with me.”

“Yes…” Silver tears trickled down Lily’s cheeks.

“James. Darling James, isn’t my father.”

“No…”

“The Death Eater that told Voldemort about the prophecy is my father.”

“Yes…”

“Did he know it?” Harry asked. “Did he know I was his child?”

“Yes… But he thought that you’d willingly taken a bloodline conversion potion.”

“And he treated me like dirt under his boot, because of that.” Harry nodded, grimly. “Well at least he had a semi-decent reason.”

“Yes…”

“And James made no effort to tell me, when I saw you in the forest.”

“No…”

“And neither did you. Or Sirius. Or Remus.”

“No…”

“And would you have told me? If it was just you that I'd called?”

“No…”

“Well, that’s alright, then.”

“It is?” Lily blinked.

“I just needed to know if you were as uncaring as the men in your life. And as you are…? You don’t need to watch me anymore.”

“You must understand, Harry, Severus was my only love.” Lily hurried to explain. “I never wanted children. James knew that I was pregnant with Sev’s child, he also knew that was the only reason I hadn’t already taken an abortion potion. After he fed me amortentia, I brewed the potion, but he caught me before I could take it. He forbid me from taking it, ordered me to do everything to ensure you were healthy. And when you were born, he blood adopted you. He’d have force-fed you a bloodline conversion potion, if he could have, but they have to be taken knowingly and willingly. A baby can’t do that.”

“Yeah, I figured it would be something like that.” Harry huffed. “I, Harry James Potter, Master of Death, hereby rescind any ability for Lily Juniper Potter, nee Evans and James Fleamont Potter to watch the mortal world. It is time for their souls to pass Beyond this plane of existence.”

“Harry, wait, ple-” Lily was cut off halfway through her plea, blinking out of existence.

“Damn it. I hate it when George is right.” He let the ring fall and as it fell, it turned to ash. Ash that faded into shadow before it reached the floor. A heaving sigh and a whispered “bugger,” were his only reactions to his mother’s revelations.

A shaky step had him slumping against the wall and sliding down it to the floor.

“Hogwarts, I need a way to divorce myself from both the Potter and Evans families. And being a Snape, at this point in time, is just asking for trouble.” He whispered. “Then I need a pair of bloodline conversion potions. Muggleborn or halfblood, I don’t care. As long one has been dead for at least five years and the other that has died in the last twenty-four hours. It’s preferable if one of them had a sibling that they hadn’t spoken to in years, but who will not attempt to abuse a magical child. No redheads.” The last two words were firmly spoken.

There was a curious humming noise for a few moments before a rasping sound drew Harry’s attention and when he looked up, he saw the chalk begin to write.

Would you object to being the great-grandson of Marius Black? He was disowned by the Black Family for being a squib. Changed his name to Greyson, then married and had one child. His son, Corwin, was also squib, but his granddaughter, Primrose, attended Hogwarts and was sorted into Ravenclaw. She was involved in a hit and run motor vehicle accident, tonight, and died only a few moments ago. She has no siblings and was the last of her family, but she and a number of other young witches were involved in the creation of Garland House. As a founder’s child, a place would likely be offered to you.

“Garland House?” Harry mused. “What’s that? I’ve never heard of it. Can you tell me more about it, please?”

Certainly. The writing resumed.

Garland House is a type of ... orphanage... or perhaps foster home, might be more accurate.

10 girls all bearing flower-type names, were all sorted in one year.

Heather Waters was the inspiration behind the idea that became Garland House. She was killed while living in a muggle orphanage in the early seventies, raped and beaten by a caretaker.

The other 9 girls were brought together by Daphne Paddington, Primrose Greyson and Julianne Aster, and the idea started.

Initially, they simply made sure that Lydia Rose, Tansy Gardiner and Flora Brown were contacted daily to ensure that they were uninjured. However when Flora was assaulted, the girls decided to take things a little more seriously. They created the idea of Garland House, where magical orphans, particularly girls, could be housed and cared for by someone that actually knew about the magical world and wasn’t, either afraid of them or resentful of their magic. Or likely to abuse them.

Lydia Rose volunteered to be the Housemother and due to her being a very mothering/caring person, her offer was accepted. Lydia is still Housemother.

Upon graduation, Amaranth Fortescue convinced her aging grandfather to set up Garland House as a Wizengamot and St. Mungo's approved care facility for muggleborn and muggle-raised halfblood orphans, that have no magical guardians to see to their care.

Funds were provided, by a number of Families, and Alexander Fawley, father of Amaryllis Fawley, released a small summer home in Highgate to be used as the home of Garland House, in perpetuity. Other families offered ongoing donations of funds and Griselda Marchbanks proposed that all residents of Garland House should be inheritance tested at Gringotts, if they have nothing (or only a small amount) to inherit, they will be automatically be eligible for a Hogwarts scholarship. This would be outside the standard destitution scholarships for any child, that was in financial hardship.

Adelaide Hobson, senior paediatric healer at St. Mungo's suggested that any child found as a result of a callout for accidental magic, that was found to be a magical child and an orphan, without a magical guardian, should be taken to Garland House and their muggle documents altered to show Miss Rose as their muggle guardian.

A Board of Governors of eleven was formed, ten witches and a sole wizard, the latter would act as muggle liaison. No payments are to be made to the Board members, the position is completely voluntary. It is also a condition of Garland House’s charter that all board members have a floral name, either a given name or surname.

Funds are by anonymous donation only, and instead of presenting a key to Gringotts, or telling the goblins, a donor only has to drop a coin into a lockbox, or present Gringotts with a flower to go with however much money they were donating.

The name Garland House was chosen by the Board, in memory of Heather Waters, Laura Foxglove and Flora Brown, who were all muggleborn/muggle-raised orphans and either died in or were abused as a result of having been raised in muggle orphanages.

“The seventies? That was when mum was here. Was she involved?”

No, Lily Evans was sorted two years after the Garland House girls and was living with a caring blood family. They kept an eye on her but she was never at risk. She was made aware of Garland House, but dismissed it as something that didn’t apply to her. Ironically, in Lily’s fourth year, she approached Posy Downland with concerns about one of her dormmates, Vanessa Wilkinson, but it turned out that Vanessa wasn’t at risk, her mother was terminally ill, and that was behind the change in Vanessa’s behaviour.

“How would that work, then? Primrose being my mother, I mean.” Harry asked. “Wouldn’t the other ladies have kept in contact with her?”

No. Primrose was well known for her reclusive behaviour. She far preferred the muggle world to the magical, due to both having grown up in a squib family and having been assaulted by an unknow wizard, just days after her graduation.

“Right.” Harry nodded. “So, how would you put me in contact with them?”

All the muggle welfare people are aware of Garland House, even though they don’t actively remember that. If they see something magical, or a magical orphan pops up, it unlocks a notice-me-not on their paperwork and activates a compulsion to alert a particular person, currently Mr Lawrence Foxglove. He would alert the Aurors, WFS and authorise the assignment to Garland House on your muggle papers.

“And what about a father?” He asked, curious to know what Hogwarts would come up with.

There are three options.

• A pureblood father. Having him repudiate you before birth, would leave Greyson as your only surname. Repudiations were commonly done by the darker houses, when they’ve gone ‘revelling’, meaning a raid where a woman, muggle or magical, was raped. Due to this, there is very little stigma attached to being a repudiated child. Very rarely, a lighter House would repudiate a child, mostly it was used when someone attempted to force a marriage via potions or coercion. There are quite a number of men that fit this criteria.
• A halfblood father, it would mean that Greyson would not be your surname. There are a number of men to choose from.
• A muggleborn father, would also mean a different surname. There are only two that died between 1979 and 1981.

Something occurred to Harry. “Why wouldn’t I have been sent there? To Garland House? When mum and… James died?”

Because Albus Dumbledore had already stepped forward, claiming that he was your magical guardian and had the right to place you elsewhere.

“Huh.” Harry snorted. “Convenient, that.”

Yes. Very.

“So, what are the chances of me getting in there?”

Reasonable, but preference is given to females. Currently, there are three residents, only one of which is male. And he is a brother to the younger of the two witches.

“Yeah, that’s not a problem.” Harry sneered. “Sirius encouraged darling James to have mum and I dosed with potions to change my gender, before mum was three months pregnant. Apparently, it’s not unheard of in some of the older pureblood families. The Patriarchal ones prefer that the firstborn be a son.”

They do. If you wish to reverse it, it is possible. Painful, but possible.

“What sort of security does Garland House offer? The last thing I need, is to become a girl to escape Ginny and get snared by Ron or Percy. Fred and George were fine, but Ron and Percy? I wouldn’t trust them not to potion themselves a bride.”

When you are registered with the WFS as being a resident of Garland house, certain protections come into effect. You would also be required to wear a Garland House Brooch that would warn purebloods that you are under those protections.

“And what exactly are those protections?”

No betrothals before 15yrs of age and you have to present to Gringotts, for an external interference assessment. If it comes back negative, a betrothal can be instigated. If it comes back positive, the instigator is charged by Gringotts, not the Ministry, but Gringotts.

Their punishment is MUCH more severe. Depending on the level, it could be anything from vault seizure, to time in the mines. In a case of amortentia use and actual rape, it means death for the instigator, all the personal possessions and wealth of the instigator are seized, along with half the Family’s wealth, which is all given to the victim, and the instigator’s Family being barred from Gringotts for 20 years. Betrothal manipulation is repugnant to Gringotts.

Harry’s jaw went slack and his eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, that is severe.”

It is. And there is no right of appeal.

Harry whistled and then nodded. “Right… So there’s some serious protections.”

There are.

“How does a repudiated person show up on a Gringotts’ inheritance test. Their parents, I mean.”

Not an Inheritance test, that will only to show what you are set to inherit. You’re possibly meaning a Heritage test. On that, Primrose Greyson would be clearly listed as your mother, however, your father would be listed by the initials of his first name and instead of a middle name and surname there would simply be a pair of ‘?’s. As an example? If your father were to be Lucius Malfoy, he would show as L?? If he had two middle names then it would show three ‘?’s Meaning, L??? The same for grandparents and great-grandparents.

In the case of Marius Black who was disowned, but not repudiated, it would show his legal name, along with his birth name in brackets.

As an example -

Assuming you were going to use Lucius Malfoy, as a father, and keep your current names and date of birth, that is.

“And there’s no way to prove who the father is?”

There is a test that Gringotts can perform. It can only be done at the request of the one who was repudiated and bears the same penalties as betrothal manipulation. And they must name the person that they wish to be tested against. Permission of the possible parent is not required, but if found to be proven, the Head of their House can claim the repudiated back into the House, with or without the repudiated’s agreement.

“Ah…” Harry grimaced. “That could be an issue.”

You would know who the repudiating parent is, in advance, and would not likely be requesting this test. So, that leaves little cause for concern.

“Hmm… True.” Harry nodded. “Not Malfoy, though. Some lesser dark side pureblood, preferably not too closely related to Primrose. I don’t want medical conditions to pop up, unexpectedly.”

There are a number of dark wizards to choose from.

Michael Ambrose. Duncan Ashe. Bertram Aubrey. Marcus Avery. Regulus Black. Aiden Barnes. Michael Barnes. Timothy Bardleton. Jonathon Blishwick. William Burke. Amycus Carrow. Darius Carrow. Richard Carter. Bartemius Crouch Jnr. Antonin Dolohov. Daniel Fawcett. Lucian Fawcett. Geoffrey Fawley. Lucas Fields. Victor Hampton. Benjamin Hortense. Reginald Laurence. Rabastan Lestrange. Rodolphus Lestrange. Walden Macnair. Lucius Malfoy. Alaric Matthews. Warren McCloud. Edward Mulciber. Roger Peters. Sebastian Morcom. Andrew Nettlebury. Archibald Nott. Patrick Nugent. Peter Pettigrew. Tom Riddle. Anthony Robinson. Augustus Rookwood. Elijah Rosier. Thorfin Rowle.  Martin Selwyn. Maxwell Selwyn. Severus Snape. Peter Travers. William Westwood. Corban Yaxley. Lysander Yaxley.

All of these men were involved in raids for the Dark between June 1978 and December 1979. Not all of them were marked. Not all of them survived the raids.

However, some of these men are related to either Primrose or yourself, within five generations, and thus excluded from possible candidature.

Regulus Black. Daniel Fawcett. Lucian Fawcett. Severus Snape.

Those already deceased are-

Michael Ambrose. Duncan Ashe. Timothy Bardleton. Michael Barnes. Regulus Black. William Burke. Richard Carter. Warren McCloud. Anthony Robinson. Maxwell Selwyn.

The five with the least influence, then or now are- (in order of influence, greatest to least)

• Timothy Bardleton
• Duncan Ashe
• Roger Peters
• Aiden Barnes
• Lucas Fields

Bardleton and Ashe are deceased.

Peters is in Azkaban, for life.

Aiden Barnes is in St. Mungo's long-term care, his condition is stagnant and has been since admittance, there is no chance of recovery.

Fields left the country and has yet to return. There is a Kiss-on-Sight warrant in his name.

“Do any of them have living family?”

Bardleton, Fields and Peters do. Ashe and Barnes don’t.

However there is little benefit to claiming any of them. Bardleton was a younger son, so his vaults were returned to the Family. Fields sold the Family estate and took his aging mother with him, when he left Britain. Peters, while a pureblood, was from the lower classes and what little he had was returned to his parents, who left the country in the wake of his incarceration. Ashe’s estate was claimed by the Ministry. Barnes’ was claimed by St. Mungo's to pay for his ongoing care.

Images of five men appeared under the writing, with a corresponding name labelling each image. Peters and Fields had the ugly, sour faces, that Harry connected with the heavily inbred purebloods, but Ashe, Barnes and Bardleton, while not the most handsome of men, weren’t anything to sneer at.

“Probably not a bad thing, then.” Harry nodded. “Alright. Can you run some simulations, please? Show what the child of Primrose Greyson and Duncan Ashe could look like at eleven and seventeen.”

Certainly.

A blank canvass formed and colours began to fill themselves in.

“Stop!” Harry shook his head. “Not him, that’s awful.” The picture forming was not pleasant, Ashe’s and Primrose’s genetics did not combine at all well.

Agreed.

“Let’s try Timothy Bardleton.”

Very well.

Again the canvass went blank before colours bled into being.

“Well, that’s not too bad, I suppose. Alright, then, what would a female version look like?”

The colours blended and cleared.

Not bad, but not lovely, either.

“Nope. Not great, but possible. Try Aiden Barnes. Both as male and female.”

For a third time the canvass went blank before colours bled into being.

“The male’s a bit… feminine, but the female, that’s quite pretty, without being too much so.”

And with a bloodline conversion, there is the opportunity to encourage some minor changes.

“Really?”

Yes. Hair, eye and skin colour can be altered. Eyesight, too. Height is a little less flexible, though. Body shape is difficult, some changes can be encouraged, some cannot.

“Well, I suppose it depends on what needs to change, doesn’t it?” Harry huffed.

True.

“Using me as a base, please simulate how bloodline conversions for Primrose and Aiden would combine. With the gender reversal, please.” These would be slightly different, as they would need to convert Harry’s gender and existing body structure, this would mean that some changes would be more prominent, while others would be more subtle.

The colours on the canvass swirled and bled into each other, again, before separating into two pictures of a pretty girl. The younger version was approximately ten years old and was just as pretty as the older image, that appeared to be about twenty years old. Not beautiful, but still quite pretty.

“What would be the best way to go about this?” Harry asked. “Do I need to disown myself from the Potter Family? Or does the conversion take care of that? And what about the gender reversal? And can age be altered, too?”

No, you don’t need to disown yourself, as yes, the conversions override your existing parentage.

Gender reversal should happen before the conversions.

Yes, age can be altered. Not significantly, but it can be done.

“Great.” Harry grinned. “I would like to be about a year older. My birthday somewhere in August, if possible.”

The most that can be done would be eleven months, giving you a birthday of approximately the 1^st of September, 1979. It would be best to push the aging potion as far as possible and add a few days to this, as doing so would make your birthday August and bring you forward, have you being sorted in the 1990-91 school year, instead of with the 1991-92 year-group.

“Not being in my expected year, is good.” Harry nodded. “Not going to lie, not too keen on being in Cho and Marietta’s year. But the chances of the Hat putting me in Ravenclaw are pretty slim.”

Gryffindor or Slytherin, Hat says.

“That’s what it said last time, too.” Harry sighed. “Pros and cons to both. Gryffindor is the most relaxed and has the least staff interest. But the downside to that, is proximity to Ginny, Ron and Hermione. And bluntly? I want them dead, or at the least, magicless.”

Who are they? And why?

“Ronald Weasley, with his sister Ginevra Weasley, their mother Molly Weasley, along with Hermione Granger and Albus too-many-names Dumbledore, destroyed my life. Dumbledore and his fake prophecy cost me my parents. Yes, I know, that’s not necessarily a bad thing and that James wasn’t actually my father, but that’s relatively new information. It’s also thanks to Dumbledore that I was forced to spend a decade, being a human house-elf, to a pair of ungrateful muggles and their even more ungrateful son. Plus, Dumbledore was paying Ron, Ginny and Hermione, out of my own vault, to be my friends and ensure that I didn’t learn anything that he didn’t want me to know. That I didn’t associate with the wrong people. That I continued to see Dumbledore as my personal saviour, for rescuing me from the Dursleys. That I stayed in the Light. That I shunned the Dark and everyone that didn’t support Dumbledore. Then Sirius escaped from Azkaban and I was ‘encouraged’ to forgive him. Then there’s Remus, he was supposed to keep his distance from, me. He didn’t, but he taught me the ultimate Light magic, the Patronus, so Dumbledore could overlook his friendliness, just like I was supposed to just overlook the fact that he hadn’t once tried to look for me, since my parents’ deaths.” He huffed and pulled a bottle of juice from his backpack.

“Then there’s Ginny.” He sneered. “She claimed to be my number one fan and I’d believe it. She never saw me as anything, but The Boy Who Lived. Her ticket to fame and fortune. Only I didn’t have a fortune. James knew that he wasn’t my father and while I had a trust vault, everything else was left to Dumbledore. That didn’t please Sirius and Remus. When they found out, they decided that they should have my trust vault. If I wasn’t a Potter, I shouldn’t have a Potter vault, at all. Sirius faked his death in ninety-five and Remus did the same in ninety-eight.”

How did you find out? WHEN did you find out?

“July two-thousand-one. A little over a week ago.” Harry sighed. “Ginny changed the amortentia, that she’d been giving me since ninety-five. Something was different. I don’t know what. Maybe I’d developed an immunity, maybe the Master of Death thing effected it, maybe the potion wasn’t fully brewed, maybe she’d shorted an ingredient, maybe the dose was different. I don’t know, but I woke up and it was gone. I played along for a week or so, but I slipped up, talking to Hermione. I hadn’t realised that she was involved in the whole thing. But she was, and she ran straight to Ginny and Ron, and everything came out.” He sighed.

“The prophecy. James. Snape. Dumbledore. Sirius. Remus. Ron. Her. Ginny. The payments. Vaults. Everything. And then, Hermione said that they couldn’t have me interfering, so they would just to have to deal with me, first. She was going to give me a potion, Liquid Imperius, it has the same effect as the Imperius Curse, but it’s permanent and leaves no residue on a Gringotts curse scan or a St. Mungo's potions scan. I’ve been able to throw the Imperius off since fourth year, so I couldn’t see how it was going to work. But when I saw the potion, I knew instantly that something was off. Liquid Imperius is a flat, almost dirty, blue, but the potion she held, was translucent yellow and it shimmered. Looking back, I’m sure that she’d brewed the wrong potion and she could never admit to being wrong.” He huffed. “Anyway she forced it down my throat and then started to cast an activation charm over me. Again, that pointed to her making the wrong potion, as Liquid Imperius doesn’t have an activation component. Everything got really bright and when I could see again, I was in the cupboard under the stairs and I was nine years old, again.”

What do you plan to do about them?

“I want them to pay.” Harry snarled. “I just don’t know how, yet. Killing them would be so easy, but… killing them is… quick. Over and done with. Know what I mean?”

You want them to SUFFER.

“Yes!” Harry nodded. “That’s why it seemed too easy. Twenty years I suffered under Dumbledore’s control. Nearly ten for the others. They should pay for what they did to me…” The last sentence was whispered, sadly.

This is the Room of Requirement. Give the order and magic created by the Founders and fuelled by nearly a thousand years’ worth of magical bleed-off from students and staff, can reach anywhere in the British Isles. If you want a core drained, it will be done. As long as the recipient is in contact with bedrock of the Isles, be that directly or via a building, Hogwarts can direct magic at them.

“I…” Harry paused. “Aren’t you Hogwarts?”

Not completely. I am an echo of the soul of Helga Hufflepuff. Hogwarts as you know it, is a combination of the echoes of a number of souls. Commodus Black. Godric Gryffindor. Helga Hufflepuff. Martin Longbottom. Charles Peeves. Lucian Pendragon. Feldmartin Potter. Adolphus Ollivander. Rowena Ravenclaw. Arthur Wallace. Augustine Yaxley.

When talking to one person, Hogwarts finds it less strain on the wards, to have just one echo communicating.

“Not Slytherin?”

No. Salazar sacrificed his eternal soul to link our soul-echoes into the magic of Hogwarts. At the request of Godric, Commodus and Augustine.

“The histories we have, they say that he left Hogwarts after a fight with Gryffindor. Is that not true?”

No. Not at all. All those whose soul-echoes were linked to the castle had to be alive at the time of linking. It was 1042 when the link was made. When Salazar sacrificed himself for the future of the school. Commodus was the next to die, in 1077. The last of them to die was Feldmartin, in 1109. Helga’s son, Wallace became Headmaster and Godric’s daughter, Elanor, was the castle’s Chatelaine.

“Chat- chatelaine?” Harry attempted the unfamiliar word.

She was the Mistress of the castle, she directed the domestic staff, those that saw to the care and wellbeing of all that lived within Hogwarts’ walls. The school was still a fairly separate entity at that point, as far as people’s duties were concerned. The Headmaster ran the school side of the castle, the staff and students, while the Chatelaine directed the housekeeping side, the cooks, the laundresses, the maids. It wasn’t until much later that the Chatelaine’s duties fell to the Deputy Headmaster or Mistress.

“Ah, okay, got it.” Harry nodded. “McGonagall fills that position now.”

She does. And quite ably, too.

The night is passing. Do you have orders in regard to your oppressors?

Harry sat and thought. Should he do something now, or should he wait?

“If I give you orders, but want things done at different times, can it be done?” He asked. “Or do those orders become obsolete when I leave the Room?”

That would depend on the wording. If you were to order the magical collapse of a person, to happen at a specific point in time, without stating that the order was to be retained after your departure, then yes, it would fade when you leave the Room. If however, you add your departure as a clause within the order, then the order would remain pending until the appropriate time and date.

“That sounds brilliant!” Harry grinned. “I’m sending Dumbledore a wand, it looks like the Elder wand but it won’t have the same magical strength. In addition to this, I want his core to start deteriorating, minor at first, but more significant as time passes.”

This is already happening. At this point, Hogwarts estimates that he has less than a decade left before complete core-failure.

“Can Hogwarts speed that up?” He asked. “Make it four or five, instead of ten?”

Yes. If you want this, please remember to include directions for after your departure.

“Excellent.” He grinned. “Hogwarts, please increase the destabilisation of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’s core, in a manner that simulates what would naturally occur due to extreme age, from the current state to complete failure, within the next five years, this is to continue whether or not I am in this Room, or have access to this Room.” He paused. “Is that sufficient?”

That is very well worded and has been lodged, as a direction in progress. Taking into account, the current condition of his core and body, as well as his dietary intake, Rowena’s echo believes that he should be at core failure in 4 years, 11months, 2 weeks and 4 days, however permanent core depletion, the point when a core no longer refills completely, will be in approximately 2 years, 2 months, 1 week and 4 days. That may vary depending on much stress he places on his core between now and then, and where he lives. A high magic environment will increase the timeframe, by how much, is unknown.

“Brilliant. That’s Dumbledore taken care of.” Harry sighed in relief. “Now the others.” He tilted his head in thought. “When’s the worst time for a child to get mumble-mumps? When will it affect them the most?”

Any time before the child’s first magical maturation.

“That happens around their eleventh birthday, right?”

That is correct. There are the few exceptions, of course. Early and late bloomers.

“That happens to muggleborns a lot? That they catch mumble-mumps?”

Approximately 98% of muggleborns suffer from mumble-mumps, before coming to Hogwarts. Of those, at least ¾ are the victims of core failure. More than 50% of magically raised children contract the virus, but only 1 or 2 children per year are victims of core failure. This year is looking to be particularly virulent.

“Right…” He frowned. “And how long after initial exposure before symptoms appear?”

Six hours.

“And how long after symptoms appear, is the point of core failure?”

2 months. But point of no recovery, is four hours after first symptoms show.

“What’s the difference?”

As an example-

Initial exposure is at midday, on the 1^st of a month. First symptoms would appear at approximately 6pm, that same day. Treatment would need to be provided by 10pm. If not received, then core destabilisation is initiated and complete core failure will occur between 52 and 68 days later. The uncertainty in the time of core failure, is due to a number of factors.

• If there is a solstice between treatment deadline and core failure.
• Location and proximity to a ley line.
• Position in family hierarchy, a Head of House or Heir of House would last longer, before core failure.
• Core strength, before exposure.
• Age, the younger the child the shorter the timeframe.

“Can you limit exposure to only a couple of people, in one house?” Harry asked. “Having Ron and Ginny contract mumble-mumps and have core failure would be excellent, but only them. Not Molly or Arthur, or any of the others.”

Were they not aware of Ronald and Ginevra’s actions?

“As far as I’m aware, only Molly knew.” Harry smirked. “And having her darlings suffer core failure, will be a very suitable punishment for her. She drove the eldest three children away, with her need to control every aspect of their lives. And the twins? She had no time for them, no faith in their abilities and little concern for them. But Ron and Ginny were her darlings, they could do no wrong in her eyes.”

So them going into core failure would be very upsetting.

“Emotionally devastating.” Harry nodded. “And it would also put paid to any plans, she and Dumbledore might have, for them and me.”

If they were exposed late-afternoon, or early evening, point of no recovery would occur before dawn. Ensuring that exposure was undetected could be more problematic, however.

“A sleeping charm and silencing ward?” Harry suggested. “I know that Molly has silencing wards on all the stairs and the bathroom, so everyone can sleep undisturbed. What if the wards outside Ron and Ginny’s rooms were hit by accidental magic? Something that on the face of it, could be responsible for reversing the direction of those charms. Molly was always wanting the twins to be quiet.”

That would work well.

And what of Miss Granger?

“Same.” Harry shrugged. “Muggles wouldn’t have the faintest idea what was happening to her and unless Dumbledore’s already got health wards around her house, it’s unlikely that she’d get treatment in time.”

Do you know the address?

“I think so…?” Harry answered. “Heathgate in Hampstead Garden, but I’m not sure of the house number.”

Hermione Jean Granger, 8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London.

Yes, there is a health ward located on the doorframe of a first-floor bedroom. Fortunately, that ward does not travel with her, when she’s not in residence.

“Where is Hermione currently?”

Room 6, Hillthwaite Hotel, Windemere, in the Lake District. She and her parents are booked for another two nights and there are no wards, within the distance required to register a case mumble-mumps. There is also no magical presence in the town, so she’d have to travel to Manchester’s Royal Infirmary, which is a minimum of 2 hrs drive. And as there is a Health Centre in Windemere, the likelihood is that they would wait for morning and take her there, first, before looking to transfer her to Manchester.

“Which would be too late for core recovery.” Harry grinned and nodded. “Right let’s see what we can come up with as far as a directive is concerned.”

It took ten minutes for Harry and Helga’s echo to narrow down the orders to expose Ron, Ginny and Hermione to mumble-mumps.

“Hogwarts, please expose Ronald Bilius Weasley and Ginevra Molly Weasley to mumble-mumps, in a manner that simulates what could occur naturally, due to interaction with other infected beings. Initial exposure is to occur at a random time, between four-o’clock in the afternoon and seven-o’clock in the evening, when both children are out of Molly Weasley’s direct line of sight. Additionally, cause one of the older Weasley sons to have a small burst of accidental magic somewhere upstairs, that will camouflage a reversal of the sound dampening ward on the hall outside Ginny’s room, as well as between Ron’s room and the Master bedroom. The treatment deadline is to be between one o’clock and four o’clock in the morning. If both or either child receives treatment in time or does not suffer core failure, the above directions are to be repeated every sixty-seven days, with extreme exposure, until complete core failure is achieved in both children. This directive is to continue, whether or not I am in this Room, or have access to this Room.”

Order confirmed.

Miss Granger?

“Hogwarts, please expose Hermione Jean Granger to mumble-mumps, in a manner that simulates what could occur naturally, due interaction with another infected being. Initial exposure is to occur at a random time, between four-o’clock in the afternoon and seven-o’clock in the evening, when she’s out of her mother’s direct line of sight. The treatment deadline is to be between two-thirty and five-thirty in the morning. If she receives treatment in time or does not suffer core failure, the above directions are to be repeated every time that she and her parents spend the night away from their regular residence of 8 Heathgate, Hampstead Garden Suburb, London, with extreme exposure, until complete core failure is achieved. This directive is to continue, whether or not I am in this Room, or have access to this Room.”

Order confirmed.

Three orders in progress.

“Brilliant.” Harry sighed. “Now I need to get the gender reversal done, deal with the bloodline conversions and add my new name to the enrolment lists. And Hogwarts still has to place the appropriate documents in the appropriate places, then place me where I can be found and sent to Garland House.”

There is the possibility of altering Lydia Rose’s memory, to believe that she was supposedly babysitting you last night, while Primrose was attending a theatre event.

“Oh, that would work well. Okay, let’s do this.” He smiled for the last time as Harry Potter.

~~~