Harry Potter and the Knights of Thyme

XhaLe

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 06/02/2004
Last Updated: 10/02/2004
Status: in_progress

On the night Harry Potter's parents gave their lives to save him, a Time Knight left his Order. That in itself was rare, but hardly unremarkable. However, he was the first, ever, to leave by any means other than death. The 50 became 51 for the first time in a hundred decades of recorded history and chaos would reign for the next eighteen years. And yet, and yet, even in chaos, order may be found. Rating will likely increase.

Chapters

1. Teaser: Beyond The Invisible

2. Prologue: BattleFlag Pt1

3. Ch 1: Some Enchanted Evening

4. Ch 2: Concerning Hobbits

5. Ch 3: Trip Like I Do

6. Ch 4: Driving Sideways

7. Ch 5: Enth E Nd

8. Ch 6: I Dont Like Mondays

9. Ch 7: Jacks Smirking Revenge

1. Teaser: Beyond The Invisible

Teaser: Beyond The Invisible

On the night Harry Potter's parents gave their lives to save him, a Time Knight left his Order. That in itself was rare, but hardly unremarkable. However, he was the first, ever, to leave by any means other than death. The 50 became 51 for the first time in a hundred decades of recorded history and chaos would reign for the next eighteen years. And yet, and yet, even in chaos, order may be found.

Above all, this is a story of Nature and of order amidst the chaos. Nature can not be subjected to any man's will for too long. Nature has laws, and while any law may be bent or even broken, the laws remain. As do the ones who enforce them.

They are the timekeepers. The "children of Merlin," the fabled one who lived backwards through history and now resides far into our ancestry. The Time Knights. Teeks.

Timekeepers are immortal. They are sterile and in the present tense are squibs, deaf and unable to communicate verbally. At any one time there are only 50 in the entire world. They do not need to know your language to speak it better than you could ever hope to. Once they reach maturity, they can age themselves older or younger at will through apparation. Teeks can assume the appearance of either sex. Only when one of them dies does the birth gender have any meaning.

They're also called "the Adams" and "the Eves" because whenever one dies, a male will lose a rib. It simply disapparates from inside the chest cavity, and shortly thereafter a female will become pregnant. This pair is mated until the woman is required to give birth again, which may mean centuries, when she is then mated to whichever male has lost a rib. Once a new child is born to replace the fallen comrade, the male who lost a rib begins to regrow it, but the process takes years - when the rib is complete, the child is mature. The decades between birth and maturity are full of both joy and sorrow because, while a new life is created, an old friend has passed.

Since they have no trouble hearing or speaking and are powerful wizards in the past, they are sent on missions by the Ministries of the world. They are bound by a simple code: to keep the timeline clean of interference caused by any nefarious use of time travel. That is their sole mandate and their complete limitation. Interfering in the timeline in any other way by a teek is forbidden; beyond that it is antithetical to their very nature, like a house elf wearing matching Ralph Lauren designer socks.

Like house elves, they like what they do - it's a part of them, in their nature. Snakes slither, birds fly, teeks navigate history. They have no need for "time-turners" or other spells or enchantments to navigate time, nor are they restricted by the same limitations that lessen the usefulness of those other means of time travel. To go back a century is no more difficult than moving back six hours. All that is necessary is a small fire, a glass of water, and five tablespoons of finely chopped herbs - one each of parsley, sage and rosemary, and two of thyme.

Muggles know nothing of them, wizards do not speak of them and even the Dementors fear their power.

For the past 18 years, the wizarding world has revered the-boy-who-lived. For the past 18 years, the Time Knights have feared the-one-that-left.

The most frightening aspect of all this is that for the past 18 years, both have been under the protection of the same man.

----

2. Prologue: BattleFlag Pt1

Prologue: BattleFlag Pt1

"So you want me to what, sir, specialize in a magical art?" Harry Potter was sitting in Headmaster Dumbledore's office, where each 7th year student at the start of the term was invited to discuss their future in the wizarding world.

"Not exactly, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "You have the speed and skill to be an auror, but even the best aurors can easily be defeated by our Mister Riddle. You need to be able to fight with your head, even more than your hands. It's not about power, it's not about knowing the stronger curses and hexes.

"Let me put it this way - stand up and take out your wand." With this, Dumbledore stood and with a wave of his own wand the room was cleared in a ten foot circle.

"Ready, Harry?" he asked, and upon seeing the nod pulled two lemon drops from his pocket. "Then disarm me."

Harry pointed his wand at the headmaster and spoke the required incantation. "Expelliarmus!" As the spell left Harry's wand his teacher dropped one of the lemon drops to the ground, where it bounced off his boot.

An instant later Harry felt the point of a wand poking him in the back.

"See, Harry? There is no counter for the killing curse no matter how powerful you are, but a simple lemon drop could save your life." With that, Dumbledore leaned over, carefully bracing himself between Harry and the desk behind him and picked up the fallen sweet. Studying it carefully for any debris and finding none, he smiled and popped it in his mouth.

"Any questions?"

Harry was stupefied. "How? What?" He didn't even bother to point out that the sweet now occupying the headmaster's mouth had just been on the floor - Professor Dumbledore had always been a little "off" to Harry, but that was what made him so memorable.

"It was easy my boy. Before you came in I merely enchanted the drop to transport me a few feet. A simple but effective use of a portkey, yes?"

"Yes, sir, I guess." Harry paused for moment, his eyes widening as he started to catch on. "So if I became an enchanter I could create portkeys to protect myself and keep Voldemort off guard?"

"You're still thinking too small, Harry. It's unlikely you'll have to deal with just him; there will be Death Eaters as well. Think, now."

Harry was flustered. "Uh, well, if I could enchant something with a protection spell I'd only have to worry about the Avada Kedavras instead of casting defensive spells all the time."

"You're getting there. It's not that simple. What if you're not alone? How do you prepare a group? How do you protect a group? What if you get caught in a place full of muggles? What if you can't apparate? There is no way to prepare for every eventuality, Harry. Even if you could, how could you carry or get to what you need in time?"

"So what can I do?" Harry didn't understand what Dumbledore was getting at.

"What you do, Harry, is learn how to make what you need when you need to have it." With that, Dumbledore tossed the remaining lemon drop to Harry, who caught the tiny candy thanks only to his years as a seeker.

As soon as his fingers closed around it, Harry felt a familiar pull behind his navel.

-----

3. Ch 1: Some Enchanted Evening

-----

Chapter One: Some Enchanted Evening

Harry and Hermione were out strolling the Quidditch Pitch. It was well after curfew and, especially being the second day of classes, they should have been worried about getting caught. Their saving grace was that they were Head Boy and Girl.

It had been a strange day. Yesterday, Draco had been head boy, but a near-unanimous vote (Snape having the good grace to abstain) stripped him of the honor when he abused his privileges and took a combined 435 points from the other three houses in less than 12 hours. Breakfast that morning had come with Ron Weasley as Head Boy, fulfilling the last desire he'd seen expressed by the mirror in first year.

By lunch, he'd hexed three Slytherins into Madam Pomfrey's care and quit in disgust. "What good is the badge if I can't get any respect!" he'd railed.

Already, there'd been more head boys this year than any other year in recent history, and Harry added a first to the list: First Head Boy in Hogwarts' history to not have previously been a prefect. He took the job only because he knew it meant more time with Hermione.

Their pace around the pitch was slow; they weren't out in the crisp Autumn night for exercise. It was the first time in three months they'd had time to just be alone together.

"... And then I've got NEWT level Arithmancy, Runes and Oh! I forgot about Potions!" Hermione finished.

Harry grimaced. "I think the only class I'll have with you is Potions, since I'm out of History of Magic and you're not taking Care of Magical Creatures this year. Plus, I'm out of divination, and Dumbledore is taking over my Charms, Transfiguration, and DA studies." He frowned.

"Don't look so grumpy, Harry," Hermione practically bounced. " The Headmaster is teaching you personally!

"What else is he-" Hermione started.

Harry changed the subject. "So tell me about the new professors." He knew talking about her studies was the easiest way to distract her.

"Well, the Defense teacher is Alastor Moody again, so I guess he’s beaten the curse. I assume it's still the real one. And Ancient Runes is Professor Krum. I think he's Viktor's uncle. Rather the black sheep, I've heard. Couldn't fly a broom to save his life. I can't wait to see how the real Moody will be in class..." Hermione continued on about her teachers and classes, but Harry forgot to listen.

Slowing just a little so he could be two steps behind her, the moon shone brightly right through one of the Quidditch hoops, framing Hermione in an ethereal, beautiful white glow. Her hair, still a little bushy from the recent humidity, threaded the moonlight in a way that quite simply took his breath away.

He was jolted from his reverie by Hermione's worried voice. "Harry, are you all right? It's not the scar, is it? Do I need to fetch-"

Harry stepped forward and hugged her, whispering in her ear, "I'm fine, 'Mione. I was just noticing how beautiful you are in the moonlight."

The parted slightly to see each other's faces. Slowly, seemingly of their own volition, their mouths closed the distance between them. She whispered, "Oh, Harry..."

"Oy, 'arry! Wha' yer doin' ou' 'ere so late?"

-----

4. Ch 2: Concerning Hobbits

Chapter 2: Concerning Hobbits
-----

As Harry lay in bed that night, trying NOT to think about all the hexes he could have used on Hagrid, he thought back to the events of the last two days.

Head boy, what amounted to Auror training and then some from the Headmaster, nearly cursing Hagrid with an Unforgivable for ruining his chances for his first kiss since the end of last term...

All in all, life was good, even if it wasn't exactly what he really wanted.

Being Head Boy didn't mean anything to him, certainly. And after watching Sirius die, his desire to become an auror had been immediately snuffed. The only thing he did want was Hermione. For her, he'd play Head Boy as well as he could. And especially for her, he'd learn as much from Dumbledore as he could so that when the time came, he could defeat the Dark Lord and protect the people he loved.

That's really all that mattered. After that? That was really up to her. He'd be happy to cut ties with the wizarding world, aside from his friends, and find some little house somewhere, but he knew Hermione would never be happy if she couldn't find a job that would keep her up to her eyeballs in magical texts.

Harry sat up in bed as he realized his entire future rested on two fundamental assumptions. The first was that he'd survive the final battle with Lord Voldemort. The second was that Hermione Granger would marry him.

'I'm a little young to be thinking about that, aren't I?' he mused. Of course, age is relative in the Wizarding world. Dumbledore looked half his age and was twice as old as he ought to be. Then there was the fact that Harry had never really had a childhood at all.

Harry'd long since decided not to dwell upon his lost childhood - he had more than enough other bad things to think about. Like the fact that he might not live long enough to even propose, let alone marry the bookish girl of his dreams.

There was a lot to do between now and then, he thought. Finish his new training, snog Hermione, win some Quidditch matches, pass his NEWTs, snog Hermione some more, graduate, kill a dark lord...

"So much to do, so little time," he thought as he finally fell asleep, dreaming of snogging Hermione.

-----

5. Ch 3: Trip Like I Do

Chapter Three: Trip Like I Do

"Oy! Harry! Get up!"

Ron had never been a morning person. That is, until he'd become Captain of the house team. Every morning for the last two and a half weeks, Harry had regretted all over again that he'd turned down the position when McGonagall had offered it. He hoped Ron would never find out he wasn't the top choice, but Harry also didn't want him to find out that only reason he'd turned it down in the first place was because he'd known his studies with Dumbledore and his Head Boy duties would leave him with barely enough time to practice, let alone plan and strategize and everything else a Quidditch Captain does.

"Sod off Ron," Harry grumbled. "It's still dark out."

"It's Scotland, Harry!" Ron replied, entirely too chipper considering the hour. "It could be noon for all you know."

"Mrrrraaaaaggh." Harry yawned and stretched. "All right, all right, I'm awake, you git." Harry sat up and Ron shoved a mug of tea into Harry's hands.

"Hurry up, mate, the Slytherin's get the pitch in a bit over an hour and a half, and I still have to get the girls up."

"Yeah, yeah, just go away. I'll be out in ten."

Actually, he was out in five, but it took another fifteen to get Ginny and the other female Gryffindor into the common room. The second girl, a fourth year named Margot, was actually the reserve Seeker. Since Keeper and Seeker were the only specialized positions on the team, Ron had decided that he'd take it upon himself to train the next generation of Gryffindors. "After all," he'd said at the time, "we don't want Slytherin to have a chance after we leave, either."

Early morning practice was always simple drills. The chasers and keepers played with a Quaffle that had been shrunk to two-thirds of its normal size, making it harder for the keeper to block and for the Chasers to catch. Meanwhile, there were four Bludgers in play, bespelled to aggressively attack any player above the pitch. On top of all of that, there were three snitches in the air. Harry, as the best spell-caster on the team, was in charge of modifying the balls for practice.

It was pandemonium, but it worked. Already, Margot was at least as good as Malfoy at catching the snitch, and the Beaters, who'd already been on the team for a year, were almost as good as Fred and George.

As far as Harry could see, the weakest players on the team were, sadly, Ron and Ginny, but only because they weren't confident in their abilities. Harry hoped that would go away after their first win.

The sun was coming out now and, against their nature, so were the Slytherins. Goyle and Crabbe both looked like they would spontaneously combust and Malfoy, the most vampiric appearing of them all, seemed to pale even further as the rosy morning light shined down upon him.

"Well look at that," Draco called out as he stepped onto the pitch, broom in hand. "Stupid Weasels on both sides of the Quaffle!"

He stage-whispered, his voice carrying all the way to the Gryffindors above. "That's the only reason they ever win, you know. When those Muggle-lovers get hit in the head with a bludger, there's nothing to get hurt!"

Ginny studiously ignored the lot of them, and Ron had matured to the point that he didn't respond, other than to turn beet red and nearly lose control of his broom.

Harry decided it was time to test some of the things Dumbledore had been teaching him. The headmaster had taught him the basics of wandless magic, and Harry had been practicing summoning his wand. Unfortunately, his wand was in his locker in the Gryffindor supply room, well beyond the point he felt he could reach.

Instead, he picked one of the bludgers and tried to modify the attack spell on it to, instead of going after the players above the pitch, to chase the players ON the pitch.

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated, focusing all his magic and sending it to the- "Harry, watch out!" Ginny yelled.

Harry opened his eyes and ducked just in time to avoid hitting one of the hoops. Below him, he heard the Slytherins laugh and jeer.

"Look at Potter!" Draco yelled. "Bloody Gryffindor can't even AHHHHH!"

Harry slowed his broom and looked down. The scene below him was astounding.

Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and the other Syltherin players were being attacked by all FOUR practice bludgers, the Quaffle, as well as all three snitches. The Slytherins screamed as they were pelted and tried to run back inside, but all the balls gave chase. As soon as they all stepped off the pitch, the balls dropped to the ground.

Harry touched ground just as Mayfoy slammed the door shut behind him. By the time Ron realized his seeker was on the ground, Harry was already falling down in a dead faint.

-----

Notes: I know these chapters are short. I'm used to writing vignettes, so bear with me here, it's my first long fic - ever. I'm used to being able to just write from point A to point B - I don't know how I'm going to be able to fill all this space! Hopefully the chapters will grow as I get more comfortable with the format. I've got the story plotted out (mostly), but feedback is gonna determine how much and how fast I write. If readers don't like it, I'll go back to what I know... not that I've gotten many reviews for my two short fics on PK, mind. : )

6. Ch 4: Driving Sideways

Chapter 4: Driving Sideways

Ten days after after the incident Ron had dubbed "The one time the Slytherins caught the snitch," nine and a half days after Harry'd been released from Madam Pomfrey's care with a warning to not waste her time in the future, Ron, Hermione and Harry got ready for the first Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

Harry was just glad that everyone had shrugged off his little episode on the pitch. He was surprised that the only person who had any idea what he'd done hadn't bothered to ask about it - all Dumbledore had said about it in class the next day was "10 points for keeping up your practice, Harry, but 15 away for missing class. Lemon drop?"

The sleepy little town of Hogsmeade had undergone some very large changes over the summer. With all the Aurors stationed there to protect the village and especially the school, many new homes had been built. With the homes came the families of the Aurors, and with them came several new businesses, a particularly conspicuous structure that was now the local office of the Ministry, and a branch of Gringotts.

The Gringotts branch was fortuitous, since Harry had not bothered to withdraw any money the one time he'd been in Diagon Alley since the death of his godfather. The summer after Sirius died it was deemed too dangerous for him to visit, so someone on staff had purchased his books for him. This year, Hermione had taken his pouch of money and he'd merely plopped down in front of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor and sipped milkshakes while she took care of all his school purchases. Having not refilled his pouch since before the start of fifth year, he was nearly broke.

"I'll meet you two in front of Honeydukes in half an hour, okay? I need to get some money," Harry told his friends.

Hermione just nodded and wandered off, ostensibly toward Gladrags and Dervish and Banges, but Harry noticed the building next to Madam Puddifoot's was now a Flousrish and Blotts.

Walking into Gringotts, Harry noticed that there were no guards on duty at the door, just two piles of dirt and two buckets of water. Stepping into the short queue, it didn't take long before he was at the teller window, facing the first Goblin in over a year.

"Hello," he said. "I'd like to draw some money from my account."

"You mean from your parents account-" the goblin froze as he raised his head from some ledgers to glance at his customer.

"Excuse me, Master Potter," the goblin stumbled. "One moment, please." He jerked away from the counter and moved swiftly down a corridor Harry hadn't noticed before. Less than a minute later he returned, following a much older and apparently more important goblin.

"Good morning, Master Potter. I am Overseer K'Shiv," the new goblin told Harry, raising a portion of the countertop out of the way and motioning the young man through. "Follow me, if you please."

Harry was escorted through a maze of offices and filing cabinets, around corners, up a flight of stairs and past a bathroom that was clearly marked "Goblins Only." The journey ended in a large, plush office overlooking the village of Hogsmeade. K'Shiv offered Harry a chair and moved to sit behind the ornate desk that dominated the room.

"First I'd like to apologize for the clerk who offended you, Master Potter. Karn is new to the position and hasn't learned yet how to interact well with humans. He's spent the last few decades in the mail room. We worried, of course, about so many early promotions, but the new branches were unexpected surprises."

Harry was taken aback by this goblin's rather friendly demeanor, not to mention just about everything he'd said . “Decades? Surprises?” Harry was on a roll. “What’s with the dirt piles outside? And where are the guards?”

K’Shiv smiled, baring row on row of remarkably sharp teeth. “We are particularly long-lived. My great grandfather was a loan officer when Hogwarts was founded. The dirt is why there are no guards. We have considerably less money on site here than in the London office. A dragon would be far too expensive to keep here, and with all the aurors about, not to mention the wards we have placed in and around the bank, security is easily managed. Gringott's is the bank of the wizarding world, understand. With public areas and small towns, especially places that have schools, local governments have greatly increased security. Business has actually increased globally, but only on a local scale. That means people can't come to the bank, so we must come to them. There's no way to put a dragon, its keepers and a fully trained security force into every new branch, especially on such short notice. The dirt is our first, or if you like, our last line of defense.”

The overseer paused and considered Harry carefully. “I tell you this because I know you are pure of heart. They’re unfinished golems. To complete the spell we need only to empty the enchanted buckets onto the dirt, either by hand or spell. While nearly indestructible and particularly strong, golems are quite short lived. These in particular are charmed not only to protect our assets and employees, but to differentiate between those who mean no ill will and those who have dark intentions. Wouldn’t want our muddy friends to attack the wrong person, would we?” He smiled again.

“Now, what brings you here today, Master Potter?”

Harry paused to consider what he’d been told before responding. He’d been quite surprised that the goblins felt he could be trusted with such secret and personal information. “Please, sir, just call me Harry.” Certainly, if they could share so much with him they could skip the formalities. “Well, it’s really simple, sir. I just want to get some money from my vault.”

K’Shiv frowned. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mast- Harry.” At Harry's frown he continued. “Please, let me finish.” He glanced at the ledger in front of him. “I see here that currently, you are the ninth largest personal account we have in the London branch. That means private vaults, rather than simple floating accounts. We use your galleons as a guarantor for our outstanding loans as well as a basis for valuating the British Galleon versus foreign currencies. Since your vaults are there, there is no way to get your money to you – even if we could owl for them, we’d still need your key, and that can only be used by yourself or those you grant access.”

Harry hung his head, knowing that he’d soon be unable to purchase anything, be it ink, or candy or even treats for Hedwig.

“Don’t look so glum yet, Harry. I also see here that you never responded to our owls regarding the estate of your godfather. There was quite a legal scuffle going on, but you never replied.”

Harry blushed. “It wasn’t a very good time, sir. I didn’t open any owl that didn’t come from my friends. I didn’t even look at the ones Professor Dumbledore sent.”

“Quite understandable, I suppose. At any rate, both the Malfoys and the Lestranges contested Mister Black’s will, which stated that the bulk of assets would be bequeathed to you, with a Nymphadora Tonks as the executrix of the estate until your 21st birthday. It was contested that first, they are blood relations while you are not and secondly that the will of an escaped convict could not possibly be held up by the Ministry.”

Harry was on the edge of his seat. He was quite glad he’d missed the entire thing, but he knew that Sirius would hate it if his things were given away to Death Eaters. “And?”

“Well, to keep it simple, it was decided that, since a Lestrange was Mr. Black’s murderer and the head of the Malfoy family is now a confirmed Death Eater, they had no more legal claim on his estate than they felt you did, and they could not profit from a death they caused. Furthermore, Mr. Black’s previous will, written well before his incarceration, listed James Potter, his wife or descendants as the recipients of the bulk of the estate. You.”

While Harry wasn’t exactly bored - more like depressed - this was starting to sound a lot like two things he hated: politics and law. With some mathematics thrown in for good measure.

“So what does all this mean, sir? I just want some money to buy some candy, maybe a quill and some new robes. Can I do that?”

K’Shiv straightened a little in his char. “My apologies, Master Potter. I should have realized a person of your age would not appreciate the intricacies of the system. With the combined value of both the Potter and Black estates, your liquid value makes you the 6th richest wizard in Great Britain. Of course, that means very little to you, so let me put it this way: you now are worth more than the Malfoys and the Lestranges combined, who are ranked 8th and 12th, respectively.”

Harry was getting frustrated. “I just want some new robes. ”

“Yes, yes, of course. One moment.” K’Shiv stepped out of the room and returned, more than ten minutes later, with a dark wooden box. He handed it to Harry, who opened it and looked at the Overseer.

“It was quite a dilemma, you know. You’re not of legal age yet to personally request one of these, but your guardians aren’t members of the magical community and so could not request one for you. I just got off the floo with Nymphadora Tonks, who authorized us to give this to you. We simply call it a Galleon Pouch.”

Harry lifted the black felt pouch with one hand. It was quite small, barely large enough to fit his entire fist inside. It was rather plain and unattractive, and was virtually identical to the pouches they’d used in Divination to store their Tarot decks. He was certain that Draco had one of his own – just last week Ron had teased Draco about his empty knut sack, since all of the Malfoy assets were frozen. “What does it do?”

“With it you have direct access to your vault in London. Reach in, think of the amount you want to remove and it will be there. It also works for any item in your vault that is small enough to fit in the bag. It works both ways – anything you put into the bag will be deposited into your vault. You can use it to transfer muggle money, to store your wand in a safe place, anything you want, so long as it fits. You’re also welcome to decorate the sides of the bag as you like. Just do not interfere with the seams – that is where the magic is focused.”

“Is there anything else I need to know?” Harry asked, hoping he wouldn’t be late meeting his friends. “What about security?”

“I think that’s everything. Now that you’re authorized, you can also list those who you want to have access to the pouch. The security for the pouch is the same as the security at the vault. Anyone can stick their hand into the pouch. However, only those with permission can remove that hand without serious bodily injury. As far as the bag itself, it’s impervious to any magic performed with a wand. Essentially, any spell cast on it will instead strike the door to your vault.”

Finally, and thankfully, finished, Harry shook hands with the Overseer and followed the old goblin downstairs and through the counter. After signing a form to authorize Hermione’s access to the pouch – knowing he could trust Ron to make it the Post Game Butterbeer Fund if he had access – he stepped outside and glanced at the popcorn shaped clouds in the sky.

Just below them, between Zonkos and Gladrags, a Dark Mark was forming.

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Notes: Hope this made up for the short chapters.

Sauron: The teaser is the entire reason I'm writing this. It -will- be a while, but we will get there. We've already dealt a little with Harry's private study - modifying the spell on the Quidditch balls.

With my messed up posting schedule, I'm flying without beta. I know some typos are slipping through, much as I try not to let them. If you see one, PM me!

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7. Ch 5: Enth E Nd

Chapter 5: Enth E Nd

Harry wondered which god or deceased wizard hated him. It was his first Hogsmeade weekend in months and he’d spent all of it so far in a bank discussing his dead loved ones with a creature that probably remembered when Grindlewald was still beating up other kids for lunch money. And now a Dark Mark stood between him and Hermione.

‘Bollocks,’ thought Harry. Turning toward the now wide-eyed Overseer he spoke quickly. “You do have vaults here, right?” The goblin nodded. Harry kicked over both buckets of water. “I’m going to be sending a lot of people this way. Open the entrance to the vaults and send everyone you can inside. Make sure you have your employees inside to keep things organized. If any dark wizards get past me and your ‘doormen,’ lock yourselves inside. I assume someone from London could reopen them if necessary?” Another nod.

“Good,” said Harry. “Do it. Now.” With that, he sprinted down the street, following the screams. At every store he darted inside, checked his position and told everyone to make for Gringotts. He did his best to ignore the crying customers and students. Anyone who had even the most tenuous grip on themselves was recruited to get the others to safety. By the time he reached Zonkos, the golems were fully formed; behind them, K’Shiv and the teller he’d first talked to were standing just outside the bank and were waving everyone inside. In front of him, several bodies were strewn around the street. At least one was a death eater. Harry was glad to know he wasn’t the only one fighting back. He accioed the downed Eater’s wand, pocketed it, and considered revealing the secret passage under Honeydukes and herding people to the safety of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure the Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to enter that way as well, and revealing a way around the wards to Voldemort would be worse than any injuries or deaths to the people in the town.

He spotted Ron inside the joke shop, wand drawn to protect himself and the group of fourth and fifth years huddled behind him.

Harry was panting as he blew through the doors to Zonkos. “Have you seen Hermione?”

“Sorry, mate,” Ron replied, grateful to see his friend. “Last I saw she was window shopping at the bookstore. If she went inside, I’m sure she’s safe. Books are like garlic to these vampires.”

“They are to you too,” Harry joked. It was either laugh or cry. “Has anyone gone for the professors?”

“Not that I know of. A run for the castle would put you right in the line of fire.”

“You’re going to have to do it then, Ron.” Harry made certain that it didn’t come off as a request.

“Har-” Ron started.

“No choice, Ron,” Harry interrupted. “We need them, and I don’t want the back door revealed. That leaves you. Most of the DA is here somewhere and Hermione’s around, so I’m not alone. We have to get word through. Look, get these people over to Gringotts, they’ll be safe there. Then just cross the street and get to Dumbledore.”

“Bloody hell, Harry,” Ron sighed. “All right, but I’m coming back with them and when we get done it’s your arse I’ll kick next.”

“Back in a few, mate,” said Harry, blowing off Ron’s threat with a smile. Taking a deep breath, Harry bolted out into the street toward the clothing store. For the first time, Harry was the target of spells. He tossed out a few stunners as cover and dove behind the bargain clothing bin as at least two killing curses were sent his way. The spells stopped while the Death Eaters took time to regroup and converge on his location, and he took the opportunity to reinforce the bin with as many defensive spells as he could remember. When this was all over they could probably use the entire front porch of Gladrags as a fallout shelter.

By the voices, the death eaters were in two groups and numbered at least eight, and while they had been headed away from his position, they immediately changed course when he was spotted. He could hear Crabbe and Goyle arguing over who had actually killed him, with the other two members of that group telling them to shut up. Looking behind him, he saw Ron herding everyone he could find across the street and up the bank steps. Harry silenced Crabbe and Goyle by sending several stunning spells at them, taking out one of the other death eaters. The other three dropped to the ground and blasted away at Harry’s defenses. Harry accioed the dropped wand.

The voice he recognized from the other group made his blood boil. Bellatrix Lestrange. “Here, Potty-wotty!” she called. “I have a present for you,” she sing-songed. Floating in the grip of her magic was an unconscious Seamus Finnegan. Blood was dripping from a garish headwound that Harry could easily see from twenty paces. “One of your ikkle Gryffindor friends, I believe. Best to come out now, before the party really gets started.”

Harry saw Neville stick his head out from a doorway cattycorner to Gladrags, a good twenty feet behind the Death Eaters. He nodded to Harry and took position, obviously waiting for Harry to lead. Harry motioned for him to stay down and quiet.

The two groups of Death Eaters formed up together and walked down the center of the road. Harry checked behind him and nearly moaned. Ron was about to cross the street to Honeydukes and there was no way for him to see Bellatrix and the others from his angle, and no way to warn him. Harry closed his eyes and cringed as -eight- curses were thrown at his best friend, including at least one killing curse. He didn’t know which curses had hit, but as he opened his eyes, Ron’s body hit the ground and rolled.

“Ooh, a Weasley,” Bellatrix cheered.

For a long minute he stared at Ron’s corpse. When Ron’s unconscious body took a breath, Harry remembered that he needed air too.

With the one he found unconscious and the one he’d stunned, there had originally been ten Death Eaters in the attack. With eight left, Harry slid his head over the side of his bunker, pointed to Neville then Bellatrix and to two other enemies with his wand. Neville nodded, and Harry stuck out his hand and counted down.

Five.

Four.

“I’m losing my patience, Harry,” Bellatrix yelled. “Now, Harrykins.”

One.

“Stupify, Stupify, Stupify!” Neville hollered. Two unknown Death Eaters dropped, but Bellatrix spun and used Seamus’ body to take the curse, sending out her own. Bellatrix managed to shred the wood that protected Neville and he screamed in pain, rolling down several steps to fall unconscious on the ground. With their concentration broken, Harry leapt up and managed to disarm two more unknown Death eaters and to get Bellatrix in a full body bind. That left Crabbe and Goyle and one other, all of whom had now taken cover and were firing a steady stream of explosive spells and killing curses on his position. The bin was starting to crack and warp under the barrage. Harry accioed all the wands.

Harry knew he was out of time. He couldn’t see another defensive position he could reach and there was no way to take out the last three Death Eaters without killing Neville. Just in case, he stunned the already-incapacitated Bellatrix before casting expelliarmus on her as well, giving him a total of seven enemy wands, one of which had killed his godfather.

“Last chance, Potter,” yelled Goyle.

“Yeah,” hollered Crabbe. “We’ve got a clear shot at all three of your little friends.”

Taking just a moment to think, he decided the best course of action was to mess with their heads and hope Dumbledore really was one of the best teachers in the history of Hogwarts. He took three captured wands and broke them each in half, tossing the remains over the bin and into plain sight, then took the other wands and broke three more, tossing out a piece at a time. The number of curses aimed at him seemed to double, and the little bin shuddered and shook and grew increasingly hot. Taking out his Galleon Pouch, he reached in and took at least thirty galleons in his fist. Shoving the bag back in his pocket with his free hand, he closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could for a good ninety seconds. Taking a kneeling position behind his nearly-destroyed fortifications, he hurled the coins at the Death Eaters, managing to pepper the wall just behind them.

“If you're gonna bribe us, Potter,” Crabbe called, “this isn’t nearly enough. Besides, we can just take the rest you have off your corpse.”

“Look at ‘em,” Harry heard the unknown Death Eater say to his companions. “They’re kind of glowy. Probably Leprechaun Gold from-” Harry never heard the rest of the sentence, but did get to hear the startled gasps as the remaining death eaters were portkeyed out of Hogsmeade. Harry summoned the rest of the tricked galleons and put them back in his pouch. Not yet ready to check for any remaining death eaters, Harry levitated Neville, Seamus and Ron to his position. Neville and Seamus required stasis spells to control the loss of blood, but Ron just looked like he’d been hit by one bludger too many. Checking that their breathing was regular, he left them for a moment.

Stumbling to his feet, Harry struggled over to Bellatrix. A galleon dropped on her took care of that problem. Moving carefully to the space the death eaters had made their last stand, Harry decided that his luck must be changing for the better: two wands were lying on the ground, meaning only one of the death eater’s he’d captured was still armed. He picked them up and dropped them into his pouch.

The thought brought Harry up short. How many pops had he heard? Either he’d disposed of one armed and two disarmed death eaters, or-

“Time to say nite nite, Potter,” Goyle whispered in his ear.

He tapped his wand on Harry’s back. Harry lowered his head and closed his eyes. The wand pushed harder into his spine.

Harry thought of Hermione and Ron and a tear slipped down his cheek. Where was Hermione, anyway?

“Avada-”

“Stupefy.” Goyle dropped like a stone and Harry circled, wand raised.

“Fifty points from Gryffindor for almost getting killed,” said Mad-Eye Moody gruffly, taking the opportunity to kick Goyle’s body firmly in the gut. “ Constant Vigilance!

“Where’d they end up, Harry?” Moody asked.

“The only place I was sure they wouldn’t be able to escape,” Harry managed to get out, shoving his wand into his pouch. He was starting to feel light headed. “The Chamber.”

“Fifty points for ingenuity then, boy. However, I’m going to have to talk to Minerva about your ability to count. Three killers minus two pops leaves one, Potter.”

“At least I broke even,” he gasped before collapsing.

Coming soon: Chapter 6: I Don't Like Mondays

-----

8. Ch 6: I Dont Like Mondays

Chapter 6: I Don't Like Mondays

Harry woke up Sunday night in his other room at Hogwarts. One glance at the stark white ceiling and he knew he was in the Hospital Wing. Sitting up slowly, Harry reached out blindly for his glasses. Putting them on he saw the wing was filled to capacity and that some patients weren’t students. Madam Rosmerta was snoring lightly in the bed next to his, and several other beds were filled by people who were entirely too large to be children.

Harry noticed that in the chair beside his bed he had a change of clothes and a note in the headmaster’s handwriting. He felt a little achy when he stood, but considering he and Neville had single-handedly taken out nine dark wizards, he felt pretty damned good. After getting dressed he decided to check on his friends.

Ron was absent from the ward, but Hermione was in the far corner with a large number of other girls. To a one, their skin seemed a pale green color. Harry bent over Hermione and kissed her forehead lightly. Madam Pomfrey, contrary to her normal procedure, stepped up softly behind him. He’d been expecting a loud rebuke, but she merely squeezed his shoulder gently and motioned him to step a few feet away from her sleeping patients.

“They were, I think the muggles call it gassed. Some kind of potion tossed through the window of Gladrags; we found another one in Madam Puddifoot’s. Between the two, they took out nearly every female student in Hogsmeade in one fell swoop. We found unexploded potions in Flourish & Blotts and Dervish & Banges, so I suppose they don’t have the delivery perfected yet.

“Actually, I wonder if this gas isn’t one of Snape’s potions,” she whispered to her fellow Order member. “It’s pretty safe. Just makes you a little sick and puts you under. As far as I can tell, it’s easy to defend against - a simple bubblehead charm or some gillyweed will protect you.”

He was surprised that while he had huddled behind the clearance bin in front of the clothing store, Hermione had been ten feet inside the story with a gaggle of other girls. It seemed unlike her, but he was glad to know both that she had been safely behind him and that she had friends who didn’t spend every day looking over their shoulders for trouble. “I think they just wanted me,” Harry finally responded. “Dead or alive.”

“Preferably the former, by what I’ve been told,” Pomfrey said, shuddering. Shaking off her chill she pushed Harry toward the doors back to the castle. “Everyone here will recover in a week or less, Harry. Poor Longbottom was the worst of the lot, but with some skele-gro, a few potions and time he’ll be fine. Dumbledore is waiting for you in his office. Both your friends should be back to class by lunch tomorrow. Hurry up, now.”

Harry tried not to let the door to the Hospital Wing hit him on his arse as he left, but was only partially successful.

After ten minutes of standing on the second floor in front of the gargoyle protecting the headmaster’s office, not to mention the recitation of the name of every sweet he could think of, Harry was getting frustrated. Sighing, Harry placed his hands on the gargoyle and closed his eyes. A minute later Harry had moved the gargoyle just far enough for him to squeeze into the doorway beyond. He barely had enough time to get through before the gargoyle slammed closed again. Harry noticed that the staircase wasn’t spiraling upward, probably a result of his unauthorized entry. He’d have to climb it like any other.

Dumbledore was also surprised to see Harry coming up the stairs. “Mmm, was just coming the fetch you, Harry. I thought I’d finally chosen a password that couldn’t be guessed. I wasn’t aware that you were familiar with Krispy Kreme doughnuts.”

Harry fumbled for words. “I’m not, sir, and I didn’t. I, uh, that is, sir, I-” Harry plopped into one of the two puffy chairs that sat facing the desk.

The headmaster’s twinkling eyes nearly glowed with pleasure. “ You didn’t, Harry! Oh, that is indeed wonderful. Your skills are progressing far more rapidly than I imagined, though this early in your study I’m inclined to believe it was more sheer power than finesse.” Harry merely nodded.

“That will come with time and study, Harry. I’m sure I could have blown a hole in the wall, but I doubt even I could just make the gargoyle move . However, as much as the enchanter’s gift is instinctual, training is at least as important as raw strength. I don’t have much of the gift myself - I just know how to use what I have. At any rate, I'll trust you to not abuse that ability by breaking into to other protected areas of the castle. Before we discuss the events of yesterday morning, do you have any questions about your training so far?”

“Tons. I was considering starting a list. I guess the most important is that I thought you were going to be teaching me Charms and Transfiguration and Defense on top of everything else, but I’ve gotten almost none of any. Why not?”

“I’ve withheld the truth from you before and too many people got hurt, including you. To be honest, I’m not teaching you those things because I’m cheating, Harry. What I am teaching you is a far more basic and powerful skill. Just with what you know now you could easily pass your practicals. You’ve taught more Defense in this school under the guise of the DA club than anyone since Professor Lupin. I’m counting on Hermione to help you through the written tests. I’m choosing what could save your life over what will give you higher scores on your NEWTs. I imagine that's all you've wanted from us since you were thriteen," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Turning a cricket into a thimble or making a cat breathe fire is rather insignificant in comparison. You have all the knowledge of conventional magic you need to face any Death Eater. My hope is that you’ll have more than enough time to pick up what you’ve missed when Tom is out of the picture.”

Harry couldn’t argue a word of it. “And the wandless magic I’ve been studying?”

“It’s not quite wandless magic, Harry. Here,” said Dumbledore, moving to sit in the other chair facing the desk. “Now, point your finger at me and stun me.” Harry focused, but as much as he tried he couldn’t cast the spell. “Okay, take my hand and turn me into a chicken.” Just trying gave Harry a headache, but nary a cluck nor cheep was heard. “Last one, Harry. Make me kick my leg.” Two minutes later Dumbledore’s foot jerked a little, but it was hardly a kick, and Harry was nearly comatose. “I’m surprised you did even that, Harry. Now, summon my quill from the desk.” Less than two seconds later the quill was in Harry’s hand. “Turn it into a potion flask.” Moments later it was, but Harry would need to be poured into a much larger bottle if the headmaster expected Harry to move in the next eight hours.

“There’s your Charms and Transfiguration, Harry. However, enchanting only works on inanimate objects. You can’t use it to curse anyone, but you can use it to summon your wand if you are disarmed, or to disarm someone with one hand while casting a wand spell with the other. It’s a much more primitive and direct form of magic. It allows you to do things that can’t be done by mere spellwork, if for no other reason than the incantations haven’t been discovered yet. I have some wandless ability as well, and the difference is simple. Wandless magic merely lets you cast a normal spell without the need of a wand - you still must use the proper incantation, even if you just say them in your head. Its effects are temporary. No normal spell can last longer than a few months, perhaps longer if the wizard is powerful and particularly well-educated. The day you agreed to personal instruction I tossed a lemon drop to you. You appeared within the Prefect’s bathroom correct?” At Harry’s nod he continued. “Simple casting of a portkey. If I’d made the portkey two weeks earlier, when you caught it all you’d have caught was a piece of candy. If I’d really pushed it, I could make one last a few years, but then I’d require a stay with Poppy and her ward.”

Dumbledore’s features tuned serious. “We recovered a few of those galleons you altered, Harry. Be careful with them if you haven’t already dispelled the enchantments. Long after you and I have left this world, those portkeys will still transport any Death Eater that touches them into the Chamber.” Both Harry’s and Dumbledore’s eyebrows jumped at the thought.

“Actually,” they both said simultaneously.

“Let me think about it, Harry,” Dumbledore said. “Magic is black and white, but the legal system is not. I would need to discuss the idea with others, first. However, if you’re attacked again, it’s certainly a valid tactic.”

Harry nodded; something else had already distracted him. “If the galleons were in the chamber, and I’m the only one on the grounds who can open the door, how did you recover them?”

“That is the simplest question to answer yet,” the professor responded. “Dobby found them. He and the other elves are naturally able to transport to anywhere inside the castle wards, so long as they know that place exists and generally where it is. That, along with the ability to become invisible at will is how the elves stay out of sight and how they can get into the House dorms without needing any passwords. Twice a day Dobby appears in a random place in the Chamber to deliver food and water, and a number of elves pop in and out throughout the day to make sure they haven’t found any means of escape. Since you are specifically banned by a Ministry decree from reopening the door in the second floor girl’s bathroom,” Dumbledore finished with a wide smile, “there’s currently no legal way to release Bellatrix Lestrange or the others into Ministry custody short of asking Voldemort for assistance. They can’t bar you from creating portkeys, as it’s a required spell in the NEWTs.”

“I guess that covers most of my questions, sir,” Harry said.

“Good. Feel free to come to me if you have any more. Now, about the attack yesterday. Did Bellatrix or the others give any indication as to why they were there?”

“No. Really, all I know is that they wanted me. I’m sure you know about the potions they used to put everyone out of the fight. I’m surprised there aren’t a slew of dead bodies. It’s kind of apparent they had a specific goal - me - and wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I agree. Tom is all about fear. Fear of the name Voldemort, the fear he inspires through his dark servants. However, they didn’t bother with their normal scare tactics or torture this time. Perhaps the fear this time is what you have instilled in him? Clearly, they were after you alone. There were close to a thousand people in Hogsmeade, yet there was only one fatality - a brave clerk from Flourish and Blotts who took a killing curse meant for one of the fourth year DA club members who was resisting. The rest were stunned and disarmed or gassed.”

Harry paled at the thought of a fourth year dying to protect him. Dumbledore caught it and immediately responded. “I know how you feel Harry - here I am, Chief Warlock and all, training a teenager to save the world because I’m incapable of doing it myself. It’s a valuable lesson. I think if you were to ask her, she’d tell you the same thing you told me just before I revealed the prophecy to you at the end of your fifth year. It’s a matter of free will. Stacy chose to defend the lives of others, knowing what it might cost - just as the clerk chose to defend Stacy.”

Harry knew it had been a hard lesson for Dumbledore to give into free will. Harry wasn’t sure it was a lesson he wanted to learn if it meant more people dying for him.

“I’m rather sleepy, sir. Is there anything else tonight?” Harry asked.

“Just one thing, Harry. You can sleep in an extra hour or two tomorrow, I know I’ve given you a lot to think about. On top of all that, a Mr. K’Shiv of the goblins and a representative of their government has requested an appointment to see you tomorrow morning at 10 o’clock.

Harry immediately groped for the Galleon Pouch and found it secured to his belt where he’d left it. He didn’t know why the goblins were asking after him, but if Harry was right, he knew he had a big favor to ask of them. Getting up, Harry said goodnight to the professor and turned to leave.

“One last thing, Harry. Two, really. We recovered Goyle’s wand and the six you broke, but that still leaves three unaccounted for. Dobby says that no one in the Chamber is armed.” Harry reached into his pouch and retrieved the wands. He hesitated before handing over the one that belonged to Bellatrix. “You can break it before you give it to me,” Dumbledore said earnestly.

“I’d like to keep it if I could. I have something I’d like to use it for, I’m just not ready to try it.”

“That’s fine, Harry, just don’t tell the Ministry I said so. One death eater did escape - the one you found in the street. Aurors are searching for him. I imagine that without his wand he’s still walking to his destination. Goodnight, Harry.”

If Harry hurried, he could catch Professor Moody before curfew.

-----

Mr. Exposition says:

Coming soon: Galloping Galleon-Greedy Goblins Give Graciously

and

Dumbledore gets medieval on Harry's arse.

Okay, my author’s note for today is: Rent Lost In Translation ASAP. Best movie I’ve seen in I can’t remember how long. Best movie Bill Murray has ever made (which isn’t saying much, but...).

I said I’d make up for the short chapters. Just don’t expect me to keep up the pace. :)

-----

9. Ch 7: Jacks Smirking Revenge

Chapter 7: Jack’s Smirking Revenge

Harry woke early, his body used to having breakfast. Taking his time showering and dressing, he made it to the doors of the Great Hall in time to see Ron heading past the doors leading outside.

“Ron, wait!” Harry called.

Ron stopped and turned to his friend. “Mornin’, mate,” he said.

Harry noticed how morose his friend sounded. “Is something wrong?”

“No, Harry, nothing’s wrong. Death Eaters attack the village, you’re the hero of the hour! Even Neville takes down three of them. Neville! And here I am, smacked down by a curse from a dark wizard I didn’t even see.” Ron’s face pinked up. “I didn’t get a single spell off, Harry. Didn’t even see them. What kind of friend am I, Harry, if even Neville can defend you better than I can? What kind of wizard am I?”

Harry smiled. Ron had a tendency to be self-centered, but this time his problem seemed to be self-confidence.

“You’re looking at this the wrong way, Ron,” Harry said. “Here, follow me.” Harry opened the one of the front doors and took a seat on the front steps of the castle. Ron sat down heavily beside him, his body curling in defeat. Behind them, the great door thunked closed.

Harry pointed at the town in the distance. “Okay, there’s Madam Rosmerta’s, there’s the new bank, and there’s Gladrags. See?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, look at the streets,” Harry said, pointing to each spot as they were mentioned. He was glad it was a rare, clear morning. “There’s the side street across from Gladrags that goes to The Hog’s Head. One group of them was down that road. So when you came out of the bank they were behind you. No way could you see them. Now, look past Gladrags, see the way the main road sort of splits, one fork going to Dervish and Banges, the other to Puddifoot’s? That’s where the other group came from. From the bank, those Death Eaters were hidden behind Scrivenshaft’s and Gladrags. Even I couldn’t see them until they met up with the main road. There’s no way you could have seen either group, mate. They came together just as you started crossing for Honeydukes. That’s bad luck, pure and simple. Not lack of skill.

“Of course,” Harry said, smiling, “you’re not built for speed like I am, so you’re a big, slow, easy target with all that red hair.” Ron popped him one in the shoulder, laughing. Harry squinted and rubbed his arm.

“Oof! Now, don’t be so down on Neville. He’s improved an awful lot the last couple years and you know it, outside of the three of us, he’s probably the best in the DA. Plus, he was in the perfect spot for us to get them in a crossfire. They were fixated on me alone, so they never saw him coming. Besides, think of all the people you got to safety. You didn’t get a chance to fight,” Harry finished, reaching over and patting his friend on the back, ”but you did save a lot of lives.”

Ron sighed, but his back straightened considerably with the praise. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I needed a little sense knocked into me.”

Harry laughed. “You seem to need that a lot. Just, next time? Let me be the one to knock it into you, rather than Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Ron smacked his friend in the shoulder again. They got up and headed inside. The pair split up, Ron to get to his first class and Harry to eat breakfast. “I’ll see you for lunch, Harry,” Ron called out as he loped up the nearest stairwell.

Harry took a seat in the Great Hall and nabbed the last of the toast sitting in front of him. A glass of pumpkin juice appeared, along with a clean plate and utensils. He began to eat.

He took his time, stopping to talk with some of the other members of the DA club that had study hour this class period, but when he finally finished he still had ninety minutes before he had to go back to the Headmaster’s office. He decided to head back outside and test his theory one last time.

He found a tree not too far away from where Hagrid was teaching a group of first years, but far enough away that he wouldn’t interrupt. Taking out his Galleon Pouch he tied it to a branch, then stepped back fifteen paces.

Harry Potter spent the next forty-five minutes assaulting a piece of cloth.

A war was waged on that pouch, but in the end it was Harry who gave in first. He couldn’t even accio it. Stunning spells, banishing spells, cleaving spells, even Hermione’s favorite, Bluebell Flames, nothing could touch it. As a last ditch effort, Harry reached out his arm toward the Galleon Pouch and concentrated fiercely on the bag, focusing on bringing it to his hand. Harry opened his eyes just in time to duck. A scrap of fabric or not, it had been coming so fast he was sure it would take his head off. It was much easier to just bend down and pick it up off the grass. Tossing it into the air and concentrating a little, it returned to his hand with ease.

Taking his place on the steps in front of the castle he put together the pieces of the puzzle in front of him. The first piece was Moody’s response when Harry had shown him the bag.

Mad-Eye Moody was currently serving in his second “real” term as the Defense professor. His first year was mostly for cover - he’d spent most evenings dueling Harry. Ostensibly, he was teaching Harry how to defend himself but it was well into the second term before Harry no longer had to crawl on all fours up the steps to his dorm at night. It wasn’t until a month before the end of the term that Harry managed to defeat the retired Auror for the first time.

For close to three hours Moody poked and prodded the bag, casting revealing spells, unlocking spells, a number of other special, secret charms the aurors were taught. By the time he was through, Moody could only say for certain that he knew of no way the bag could be breached, nor could the magic be duplicated. He was also fairly certain the magic on the bag was not of human origin. “Just don’t feel right,” he’d said.

That last part Harry hadn’t been sure of. His own powers of enchantment were growing daily. Returning to his dorm after visiting Moody, he’d spent several hours inspecting the bag with his enchantment power. He could feel the threads of energy along the seams, followed the tiny strings of power as they crisscrossed the fabric. Try as he might, he couldn’t even get the smallest of those strings to move or change. He couldn’t even break them. By the time he was finished he was exhausted, but fairly certain the headmaster wouldn’t be able to break or alter the magic either.

After all that, the boy sitting in front of Hogwarts could only conclude one thing:

In his hand, Harry Potter held a piece of cloth, created by goblin magic, that was immune to wand magic. Including, he presumed, the killing curse.

At this point, it was a good thing that the goblins were coming to see him. He’d probably cost Gryffindor the House Cup if he got caught sneaking out again. He’d try his best to be courteous to the goblins, that’s simply the way he was, but he also knew there were going to be some serious business negotiations if what he wanted was possible.

Speaking of goblins, he had half an hour to get showered and dressed and back down to meet them.

---

He had three minutes to spare as he spoke the phrase to the gargoyle. He wondered if it was even possible for crème to be crispy, and decided that yanks must not be very smart if they couldn’t even spell small words correctly. Reaching the top of the stairs, he heard Dumbledore speaking to the goblins; in particular, he was thanking them for using the vault to protect his students. Harry stepped into the room just as the professor had finished his praise.

Once fully inside the office, Harry saw that three goblins were seated in front of the large desk, upon the corner of which the headmaster was relaxedly perched. Fawkes was no where in sight, but crisp air was breezing through an open window. An unoccupied chair sat next to the three goblins.

The goblin furthest from him was Overseer K’Shiv. The second one was clearly older than the Overseer, but his beady, active eyes belied his age. Lastly sat the clerk and Harry tried to remember his name. ‘Corn, Card, Cart... wait, Karn! ’

Harry nodded at each goblin, greeting them from the outside in. “Good morning, Overseer K’Shiv, Mr. Karn, professor.

“Good to meet you too, sir,” he said to the unknown goblin, shaking hands with each goblin. He then took the last seat for his own.

“A most unique student you have, Headmaster,” said K’Shiv, nodding in Harry’s direction and frowning deeply. “He was the one who told us to open our vaults and to invite everyone there for safety, clearly not realizing how merely asking is a violation of the goblin code. In fact, he did not even ask, he ordered. ”

Harry cringed - it was not an auspicious beginning.

“Then, he activates our golems. He did not ask permission to do so, he did not request that we do so. It is not easy to create a golem of that size, not to mention the very intricate friend-or-foe incantation that is placed on them.

“Next he orders me around, orders me!, and runs off before I can even respond. I was so astounded by his outrageous behavior I could do little more then nod my head like a fool. And here he sits now, polite as can be, as if such dire events did not happen just days ago.”

Harry decided that this meeting was not going nearly as well as he’d hoped. “I’m very sor-”

The Overseer cut him off abruptly, but not without the smallest of smiles. A great number of frightfully sharp teeth were displayed. “Save your apologies, young wizard. I would like to introduce Undersecretary Arva. I may run this branch of the bank, but I still report to the London. When my comments were received by the main branch, the Undersecretary was dispatched. He is the being in charge of all the smaller branches we’ve opened in Great Britain.”

Harry dropped his head. He hadn’t realized K’Shiv ran the bank, plus he’d peeved them to the point of sending out one of the most important goblins in all of England!

Arva, the older goblin, took over. “Lift your head, young master. I can see your father’s earnestness in you. I was in charge of your family’s accounts for nearly fifty years before I was promoted out of Major Accounts into administration duties. You have managed to violate about half the terms of the human-goblin covenant, but I wouldn’t worry too much over that.

Harry tried to remember when the last Goblin Rebellion ended, but he hadn’t had History of Magic in two years and hadn’t paid much attention when it was a required course. The stricken face of the young student two seats over from him made Undersecretary Arva laugh, and even Dumbledore was smiling more than usual.

“You misunderstand us,” said Arva. “You gave us much to think about. Our policies were written in a time when humans were the enemy. We are a somewhat subjugated people, and we are not happy with that, but we certainly are not powerless. Our gold, and our control of your money,” Arva said, clearly meaning all the money in the wizarding world, “gives us a lot of influence in the affairs of humans. We do not ask for more because we do not care to spend that much time with your kind.”

He went on to say, “Our traditions were set down when there was a struggle between both species. We are no longer at war with your kind. You have made something clear to us: that individuals can create great change, and that the actions of individuals cannot be used to make generalizations, good or bad. The things you did on Saturday, Master Potter,” Arva stressed, leaning towards the student, “saved many lives. Not just human lives. You ensured that our kind would also be safe, specifically ordering that goblins seek protection inside the vaults as well.”

Harry wanted to protest, but wisely chose to keep quiet, hoping the goblins would consider him favorably. He needed things from them. He knew he chose the vaults because they were the safest place in town, period. However, he also knew that he had wanted the goblins protected as well. A life was a life was a life. S.P.E.W., while a fundamentally flawed concept, was based on truth: the other sentient creatures of the magical world were getting shafted by the Ministries.

Arva went on. “Accordingly, our rules and traditions are being reconsidered. All branches will open their vaults for the protection of anyone, regardless of species, in times of attack. A stipulation in the Human Accords of 1743 - to you, I’m sure these are referred to as the Goblin Accords of the same year - gives us the right to freeze the account of any account holder who “makes war upon” goblin-kind. Other accords and treaties give us the right to decide when and how we make that distinction. In England what is done with the frozen accounts is decided by the Wizengamot, of which your headmaster is Chief Wizard. So, from this time forward, any known Death Eater who participates in an attack in a town in which we have a branch will immediately forfeit all of his accounts with us. Furthermore, anyone who defends a town under attack will receive a reward. Any costs incurred from injuries sustained in said attacks will be covered by us, with further remuneration should any disabilities result. Each branch will have ample supplies of golem defenses to use, as well as a new model that actively seeks out enemies within the vicinity of the local bank. We are ramping up our production considerably.

“It might interest you to know,” Arva finished, “that there are currently twenty-two branches outside London, with many more under construction. Of course, we can’t be in every city, but we certainly have a lot of places covered.”

Harry was a bit confused by the all legal jargon but realized that was how goblins talked. He was also in awe of what he understood - the goblins had chosen to stand against Voldemort -- and it was all thanks to kicking over two buckets of water without first asking permission.

“Err,” Harry stuttered. “Thank you. It will mean a lot to people to know that their homes are, I guess, “insured” against Death Eater attacks. It’s also good to know that people will be taken care of if they get hurt. I know that not all wizards have the kind of money I do. Maybe knowing that will help more people stand against Voldemort.” Harry was surprised; none of the goblins flinched at hearing the Dark Lord’s name.

“Oh, my,” said Arva, turning to Dumbledore. “He is a polite one. Very considerate of others, too, except for the bandying about the Dark Lord’s name thing. Not that he was particularly polite or considerate to the Overseer here when the village was under attack.” Harry blushed under everyone’s gaze.

Dumbledore replied, “Harry has the distinction of being both one of the most well-mannered yet least obedient students in recent history. To the latter especially, as you said before, he does indeed remind me of his father.”

Arva laughed heartedly, and K’Shiv reentered the conversation. “We, particularly Karn and myself, are deeply in your debt, Master Potter. If you ever have need, feel free to call on us.” Karn nodded as emphatically as a goblin could.

Arva took over. “We considered a great number of gifts we could provide you, to show our appreciation. We considered giving you a position on our Board of Directors until it was discovered that an ancient law requires all board members to be over 250 years old. In the end we decided that we will no longer charge you a service fee on your accounts. However, since we still make a considerable profit from your money through loans and the like, we feel that is not enough. So we have decided to give you all the rights and privileges of an adult goblin, something that has not been bestowed on a human since Gryffindor himself was given the honor for donating the land on which our London branch now sits. You now have the power to vote in our elections, you are eligible to work in our businesses should you choose, and you are free to travel in our underground cities. We also grant you one boon - ask for something, and if it is in our power it is yours, Mister Potter.”

Harry was astounded. “I-I, uh. Thank you. That’s way too much sir, far more than I deserve. I didn’t do anything special at all, and I certainly didn’t do it for any kind of reward.”

“Harry,” Dumbledore interjected, “I believe that is the point. A great amount of grief has come to you in your short life, with more in your future. Throughout all of it, you are still one of the most kind and generous people I have had the pleasure of meeting. If there is such a thing as Karma, an untold amount of good must come your way as well. I’m sure this is just a portion.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said to his teacher before turning to the assembled goblins. “And thank all of you. I’ll try to be a, uh, good citizen. I actually do have a favor to ask. Two, really.”

The goblins leaned forward eagerly and Arva spoke. “Please ask, Harry. We shall do our best to accommodate your requests.”

At this point, one of the paintings loudly addressed the headmaster. “Albus, there’s been an accident with the second years in potions. Apparently that midget Charms professor of yours, Flitwick, taught them the Bat-Bogey hex, and a Slytherin decided to try it on a Gryffindor, but couldn’t pull it off and instead emptied his own cauldron over his head.”

Dumbledore turned and addressed the portrait. “It seems to me, Dilys, the problem is not our Professor Flitwick, but a student who got a taste of his own medicine. Do tell Severus I shall meet them in the Hospital Ward shortly.”

He turned back and addressed his guests. “I’m afraid I need to take my leave now. I thank you all for coming. I know you and Harry still have things to discuss - feel free to take as long as you need. Harry, if you finish before I return, please escort these gentlebeings back to a point from which they may safely apparate?”

“Of course, sir,” Harry replied to the headmaster’s already-retreating back.

“Well, my requests are just idea right now. The first one has to do with those golems of yours. You say you are increasing production?” Undersecretary Arva nodded and Harry went on. “I was thinking that if you made them smaller, say about a foot tall, they would be very useful and easily concealable weapons. Using a charm to increase the space inside an object, the earth and water could be placed in separate glass balls the size of, say, a marble. Is that possible, and if so, could I get a supply of them?”

The three goblins leaned together and whispered. Harry was surprised to see a lowly bank teller was included in the discussion - there seemed to more discipline in the goblin world, but less of a power structure. Or maybe they were such good businessmen because they made decisions based on more information than wizards did.

K’Shiv was the first to respond. “I don’t know if you are aware, but golems are actually a human invention, created in a time long before order was established in the wizarding world. They predate even magical wands and were used by religious mystics in times of need. I don’t know for certain if we can create the kind you request, but we will try. Karn had an ingenious idea. Do you have your pouch?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Harry, taking it out from under he robe.

“Take out two galleons, hold them together and throw them at the wall.”

Harry did as he was asked. The coins flew across the room, but landed nearly two feet apart. There was no way no way two marbles would land close enough to activate a golem. “I see what you mean,” Harry responded dejectedly.

“No, no, it’s not a bad idea, Mister Potter. Karn has suggested we use an hourglass shaped bauble instead, the ingredients separated by a glass plate charmed to... well, it’s no matter. We will look into its construction. It would also provide a means of personal protection. It could easily be marketed. “The Elemental Guardian for the rest of us.” Yes, much potential. We’d need to find a human distributor, though.”

Harry perked up at that. “I’m not sure if this is legal or not, but try talking to Fred or George Weasley. They run a shop in Diagon Alley called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. They’re mostly a joke shop, but they also sell items for eavesdropping and the like. They’re starting a line of products based on their early work for personal defense and covert operations. Several groups opposing Voldemort, including the Auror Division have already contracted them.”

“Why would it not be legal for you to tell us?” Arva inquired. “They sound like the perfect company for this.”

Harry blushed. “I own a significant interest in the company.”

The undersecretary nodded. “I see. No, it’s not illegal. In fact, that makes them all the more desirable. We know you would not support a business that catered to dark magic or those who practice it. Now, what is the second request?”

“It’s about this pouch the overseer gave me. Watch.” Harry tossed the bag in the air and fired two stunning curses at it. It floated to the ground unaffected. Harry then summoned it with his wand, again to no avail.

“That is how it works, Mister Potter. Is there some problem?” K’Shiv asked.

“No, no, not at all. It’s very powerful magic. A professor here and I have spent almost half a day apiece trying to destroy this bag with no luck.”

“And that luck will not change, Mister Potter,” said Arva. “That is very special, very powerful goblin magic. The magic used in its construction is utterly different that anything your species can duplicate. The material is common, but the gift of binding is very rare, even for us. Only a few are so gifted, and their fee is enormous. Few of these bags are made, and they are only given to our best customers. We wish it were otherwise - the pouch makes spending money easier, and spending money makes us money.”

Harry leaned forward and stared at them intently. “I want a set of robes made with this magic. Three, actually. One for me and one each for my friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Larger pockets in both of them, and in mine and Hermione’s I want a connection to my vault. Ron has his own, from his shares in the Weasley business. Above all, I especially want the anti-spell capabilities.”

Undersecretary Arva frowned. “I wish that we could, Mister Potter. As I said the magic is rare and the fee paid to the binder is enormous. The sheer size of the object, not to mention three of them... I am sorry, there is no way for it to be done.”

Harry sat back in his chair and considered. The goblins seem to be obsessed with money, Harry decided. ‘It’s possible,’ Harry thought, ‘their magic is rooted in it as well.’

Harry sat up straight and said, “I’ll pay the binder one hundred thousand galleons for a prototype if you can deliver by next Saturday, with an additional twenty-five thousand per robe after.”

The goblins gasped. Harry continued.

“On top of that, I will tell you how you can have a presence in every city and town and village and even crossroad in all of England, all without opening a single branch office. I think that tips the scales back into my favor, so I also request that you provide the same restitution services in all these new places as well.”

Arva jumped up, followed by his companions. He stuck out his hand and grasped Harry’s as he, too, rose from his seat.

“We’ll send out a tailor at your earliest convenience.”

Harry smiled and escorted them to the steps.

“Now, have any of you heard of a muggle invention called an ATM?”

-----

This chapter ends here for two reasons. First, I blathered on so long with the gobbles. Second, a new chapter of Acceptance of Fate was just posted, and I want to see if we got lucky and Snape fell down the stairs and broke his neck, the slimy git. The third reason of the two reasons (love that logic) is that I am going on vacation next week and I need to clean the house, get the dogs into a kennel and empty out the war zone known as the backseat of my car - gotta put the luggage somewhere, and the trunk is full. I’ll try to post during the week, but I make no promises. Before I leave though, I hope to at least post the duel and a date with Hermione. I’ve not done right by her yet, but I will make amends. I’m going into a LOT more detail than I had intended. It’s not my usual way of writing, but I’m used to less space and far more structure. And a really good beta.

For the moment at least, I’m only posting this story to PK. I know that’s costing me some readers, but I like PK, and it’s very easy to post and is a reliable server. So, if you like this story, please review. Maybe sending a few friends my way wouldn’t be out of the question, either? I’m partial to redheads, but all are welcome...