Cleansed Power by Doreedo

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 02/10/2005
Last Updated: 02/10/2005
Status: In Progress

Fawkes arrives at Number Four the day Harry gets back from school. The letter attached to his
leg changes Harry's mood immediately and launches him into a story of cursed blood, removed
seals, hidden romance, and powerful friendship.




1. Chapter One: Snapping out of it, Explanations, and Cleaning
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A/N: Hi all! This story is the Beta-ed version of my story of a similar title posted elsewhere.
I’d like to thank my Beta, Brett, for putting up with my inability to keep a deadline. ^^; I’ll
only be posting the first chapter to start with, as I want to run through the second one more time
before it goes up. It *will* be up in a day or two.

Warnings: Post-OotP, non-inclusive of the HBP world. Ron is not portrayed very well, mainly
because of what I view his “true character” as. (I’ll write an essay on it some day, I swear) The
rating is currently for flexibility, flexibility that I plan on using.

Doreedo

Story Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or its associated materials. This work however, may
only be posted with my permission. Thank you.

**Cleansed Power: Harry Potter, a post OotP fic**

**Chapter One: Snapping out of it, Explanations, and Cleaning Blood**

The journey home to Privet Drive was a sordid affair; glances sent Harry’s way by the threatened
Dursleys were full of malice, and traffic delayed arrival to his ‘home’, prolonging the discomfort
of forced contact with his ‘family’. Harry silently brooded upon the events leading up to his trip
away from Hogwarts, providing yet another blatantly depressing fact to his summer existence. He
couldn’t help but restate in his head the words that caused his brooding, like a record player
jinxed to repeat.

*Sirius is dead. He’s gone; the only family I’ve known and liked is gone.*

It was his own bloody fault of course – as Hermione had told him before, he had a
‘saving-people-thing’. Even as angry as he was at the time, he knew it was true. He’d reasoned out
that it wasn’t a bad thing…but it had resulted in him killing his only godfather this time rather
than saving him. Not to mention the countless times his friends could have been killed, along with
Dumbledore and others of the Order.

*I’m really brilliant aren’t I? Prolly could give Crabbe a run for his money…*

He continued expounding upon his own negligence and arrogance as the car pulled into a driveway
and stopped. He had already gotten out, grabbed his trunk along with Hedwig, and was standing in
his room before he realized that he had done any of it. Returning to his thoughts, Harry began
freeing Hedwig, opening his trunk, and putting away his robes and other clothes.

Just as he was reaching for his quills and his last remaining pack of parchment, a soft trill
snapped him out of his mind’s own constant nagging. Fawkes sat on his footboard, preening himself
with dignity that was matched by Hedwig’s own cleaning. He held out a leg which had a small leather
roll attached to it. Harry stared mutely at the phoenix, wondering vaguely what he’d done now.

Walking reluctantly over to Fawkes and detaching the leather roll, Harry felt the familiar
tingle of magic wash against his hands. The leather suddenly unrolled itself, revealing a piece of
regal looking parchment, which in turn floated off of the leather and into Harry’s now empty hands.
Promptly, the leather re-rolled itself, and flew back to Fawke’s leg – which was still
outstretched, giving the appearance that this wasn’t too abnormal for him.

Harry glance down at the parchment, realizing what he had just received. This was no ordinary
letter; it was something of utmost importance – a sealed, and more importantly *expensive,*
letter now lay in his hands. This letter could only be read by the one it was intended for, unless
they chose to share the information with another, and had to be sealed by the person who wrote it,
with two others present who had skill in Occlumency and Legilimency. This was to verify the
absolute truth of the document, and the multiple charms and hex-triggers placed around the piece of
parchment proved just *how* important it was. Of course, he only knew about this sort of
letter because Hermione had told him about them, but still…

Pulling the letter closer after his initial shock at actually seeing one of these, Harry noticed
the unique scrawl immediately; this letter was from Sirius.

*Hey Harry!*

*I know that you’re reading this because I died in our most ‘Mysterious’ location and I would
like to send you a message that I was too cowardly to give you before my death. I’m sitting here
writing this, knowing that tomorrow evening will be my last…I should let you know how I’ve come to
see that before I move on.*

*As you know (I hope), your mother Lily was somewhat of a seer – she saw things before they
happened, but not to the extent of being able to make predictions…most of the time. Usually with
concentration she would be able to see one or two minutes into the ‘future’, or a possible future.
Her gift wasn’t incredibly reliable, which is why for the most part it was ignored. She had
however, made a few predictions…you’ve seen the trance before, so you know what I mean when I say
that these were different.*

*When you weren’t yet born, and your father was away on business with Dumbledore, I was having
tea with your mother when she went into one of these trances. It was a short and simple prediction,
which I’m thankful for. (We both know my memory is rather bad) I was immediately caught in it when
the opening statement was made. For your sake, let me write it down on this parchment, so that you
can realize the full extent of what I’m trying to tell you.*

**Betrayed by his servant, the pad-footed one - he who marauds - shall die the eve of six
saviors’ escape, in a place most mysterious. Heralding the light his body shall leave, and the
marked one’s powers shall be unblocked soon after.**

Harry was vaguely aware that he had sat down on his bed, while letting the full weight of the
new prophecy sink into his mind. It was obvious who the ‘marked one’ was, although Harry felt
uncomfortable with the new nickname. He also couldn’t figure out exactly why the group whom had
traveled to the Department of Mysteries was referred to as ‘six saviors’. Surely, it could just be
in reference to how they are opposing the ‘dark’, Voldemort, but perhaps it meant something
else…

*Now I know you’re probably going to start saying ‘but he didn’t know when!’…and you’d be
right about that, halfway. I’ve always been one to follow my hunches, which is why I so rabidly
thought that Moony could have betrayed your parents. Well, I was wrong on that account, but don’t
let that fool you, today I had a feeling that couldn’t be ignored. I recalled the prophecy out of
the blue, and felt a small sense of resolution settle in my gut. You’ll probably argue that maybe
it didn’t* have *to happen, and that perhaps my resolution was just Kreacher’s horrid cooking,
but it did. Just trust me, please.*

*That’s enough of all the droopy information for now, huh? Well, let’s get on with all the
other stuff you need to know. Gringotts will be sending you a letter soon announcing my death and
your inheritance of most of my fortune – some is going to our mutual friends, and I have set up a
fund for the Hogwarts DADA class to use for equipment and teaching, so in a way it’s for you too.
If you could give Fred and George my blessing for their shop, that’d be great (In my will I have
turned over my full Marauder support for their advertising, so all they need to do is convince
Moony).*

Harry couldn’t help but laugh at the last. Remus would most likely not give a second thought to
throwing his support behind the twins if Sirius had. He thought briefly at the amount that Sirius
must have to give away if he could give money to Hogwarts that would actually improve it…and as for
his own inheritance…well, he didn’t exactly *need* it. Deciding it was best to think about how
to use the money when he knew how much was there, he read on.

*The rest of the details can wait until the hearing of my will – I assure you, you’ll get a
kick out of it (even if you are still mad at me for dying). One thing you should know so that
Hermione doesn’t get sick when you enter Headquarters is that I have ordered Kreacher’s death on
mine…I know that you would have had to get rid of him anyway (damn House-elf is the only servant I
have, so he must be the one to betray me), but this saves you the trouble of trying not to kill
him. I wouldn’t wish his attitude on anyone else (I wonder how many people he’s ruined over the
years?).*

*With all that over, let me just say best of luck. Your parents and I will wait for you over
here, and tell Moony we’ll do the same for him. Hope you can ‘unblock’ that power soon…perhaps
Hermione could help you with that. Indeed, I’m* sure *she could. I doubt that it will have to
do with her being the intelligent witch she is though.*

*Sirius*

Harry wasn’t quite sure how to take all of this knowledge he’d been presented with. Once he read
the prophecy, he’d felt a weight fall upon his chest at the knowledge that Sirius too had his death
foretold, but also a sense of relief, knowing that his Godfather didn’t blame him. If all Sirius
had done was explain the prophecy, Harry would’ve been a lot less confused though.

“*What the does he mean by ‘perhaps Hermione could help you…’?”*

Of course he’d ask for her help, but why mention her specifically? That wasn’t only the only bit
– Harry never expected a donation to Hogwarts to be part of this more personal letter, perhaps the
will, but why in this too? Sighing in frustration rather than sorrow, which was an improvement
already from the past few hours of being stuck with the Dursleys, Harry got up from his bed and
grabbed some parchment and a quill to begin writing a few people.

Hermione, of course, was the first person he wrote. She was not only the most intelligent friend
he had, but a person he would trust with important matters. He could tell her anything…or almost
anything. He wasn’t quite sure yet whether he wanted to tell her about the prophecy, not because he
thought she’d react badly, but because he wanted to protect her from the knowledge itself. Anybody
who knew the prophecy became a target. He moved his thoughts back to the letter he was writing. He
related some of what Sirius’s letter had said, and the gist of what he thought. He wanted to let
her know more, but too much of it couldn’t be said by owl. A main part of his letter was asking her
to help him. Her help first, in finding this power he was supposed to realize, and then also in
figuring out how to feel – guilty at no longer feeling responsible? Hurt for everyone else who
didn’t have a prophecy as warning? He was pretty sure she’d be surprised at the length of his
letter, considering that usually it was her that wrote the novel-length post.

The next person he wrote to was Dumbledore. Harry looked over to Fawkes, whom still sat by his
bed. As he finished the letter to his Headmaster, he stroked lightly on the Phoenix’s head. Besides
letting Dumbledore know what he had found in the letter, Harry also requested help in finding the
power mentioned…between Hermione and Dumbledore, he didn’t think he’d have to wait long for his
power to be revealed.

After tying the letter to Fawkes’ leg, the phoenix disappeared in a burst of flames, and Harry
could turn his attention to writing a letter to Remus. Relaying all of the information he was asked
to by Sirius, and all of the other pieces of information he thought would be useful, Harry
continued on to say that the trip home was fine, and that the Dursleys would likely not be paying
much attention to him thanks to Moody’s little speech.

To Ron he wrote the least, not because he didn’t want to say much to him about the ordeal, but
because there wasn’t a whole lot of information in the letter that Harry felt concerned him, and
too much information would likely lead to uncomfortable questions by his friend. Ron didn’t always
have the…tact…that Hermione did.

Tying the letters to Hedwig’s ready leg, Harry told her where each was to be dropped off, ending
with Hermione. She knew that when she got to Hermione’s house she was to wait, as Hermione had yet
to get an owl of her own.

Exhausted even though it was only just dinner time, Harry went back over to his bed and lay
down, taking off his glasses and falling asleep almost immediately.

Hermione was just getting done with dishes from her dessert when a snowy white owl flew in
through an open window. Landing on the kitchen counter, she glanced at Hermione’s parents before
hooting at the girl herself. The hoot sounded so dignified and demanding that her parents began
laughing at the regal owl and Hermione threw them a look before turning to see what Hedwig thought
was so important.

Untying the letter from Hedwig’s leg, she offered her shoulder to the bird and starting walking
to the living room, where her parents were seated, just in case his letter was going to cause her
worry enough to need to go see him.

“*Which wouldn’t really be a bad thing,” she thought, “the seeing him part that is…”*

Shaking the thought out of her head and sitting down on the sofa next to her mum, she opened the
length of parchment and was surprised by how much Harry had written. Even when he wasn’t dealing
with Sirius’ death (she cringed in recalling the event, and perhaps just a little also at the still
raw part of her chest) he had never written this long of a letter before. As she started reading
his letter, tears began forming at her eyes.

“Is everything all right dear?” she asked, glancing at her husband with a bit of the worry
showing on her face.

Laughing slightly, Hermione replied, “Yes mum, he got a letter from Sirius explaining a few
things…and he’s taking them quite well. He has even asked me for some help. Not that he really
needs to ask of course. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t try and help him with his
problems…?”

“Well, what was it that could have made such a change?” her dad cut in, sensing a ‘Harry rant’,
as he’d taken to calling them in his mind, and privately with his wife.

Hermione read a bit more before answering – just so that she could get it right the first time,
making everyone’s lives easier, “In the letter Sirius told him about a prophecy made by his mum
that Sirius would die there, that is, the Department of Mysteries, and knew that it would be that
day. A couple other things were in the letter, but that was the most important part.”

After a few moments of thoughtful silence, Hermione began to sniff softly as tears flowed upon
her cheeks. She had just read into where Harry explained how Sirius had given her money (as a
‘mutual friend’ as Sirius called most of those he knew) and went on to say that Kreacher was gone,
but not quite how. Explaining why she was crying to her mother and father, they sat stunned. From
what she made it sound like, she’d be receiving a goodly sum of money – not that they cared about
the amount, but it was still a shock.

“Perhaps you should wait until morning to send Hedwig back with a reply, hun. She looks a bit
tired right now, and I’m sure you’d like to think through it,” her mum said, gently prodding her in
the direction of her room, and thus bed, with an arm that gave her a hug at the same time.

As Hermione finished up the letter, she nodded in agreement and leant down to kiss her parents.
She then walked slowly up the stairs and into her room, where Hedwig flew over to her usual spot,
on top of Hermione’s desk. There was a water dish and a bit of food laid out for her.

Climbing into her pajamas and then into bed, Hermione fell asleep slowly, planning out the
response she would send to her best friend, and wondering whether he would perhaps be able to have
a better summer this year.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, sipping a cup of cocoa while reading the letter Harry had just sent
via Fawkes. Smiling at how Sirius knew exactly when he should tell his Godson this news, he started
preparing to help Harry find this power, just as Harry requested. He also prepared for other
things, sending out a flurry of owls to people that would be needed once Harry was back from
Gringotts and the reading of Sirius’ will.

It was a shame that such a good wizard had to be lost before he, the one who was supposedly
all-wise, could realize how mistaken he had been in holding him to Grimmauld Place. The guilt of
such a loss still weighed on his mind, even though he knew the circumstances of the prophecy. He
realized with Sirius’ death that he couldn’t do the same to Harry. Now more than ever, he was
determined that Harry would be protected…but now, it would be Harry protecting himself. He would
learn what he wanted to, he would be told all that could be told without betraying trusts, and he
would lead the light, just as he was destined to do.

Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth as he left the Headmaster’s private quarters,
heading out to Minerva, Severus, and Filius. Yes, he had made a realization, and this one would not
cause Harry to suffer. He promised himself that.

Harry scurried about his room, straightening anything that he had left out of place, while
eating a piece of toast and steeping tea. When he was sure that everything was in its correct
position, and that the tea was coming along quite nicely, he sat down on his bed, thinking of the
letter he received earlier this morning from Fawkes.

*Dear Harry,*

*If you would be so kind as to meet me at your home’s doorstep at 10:00 today, I have multiple
things I think we should discuss. I assure you that you will not be disappointed.*

*Albus Dumbledore*

It was currently 9:57, and Harry was still wondering what could have made Dumbledore want to see
him so quickly after school had let out. He knew that the letter he had written requested help from
his Headmaster, but he never expressed the desire to meet immediately – it wouldn’t have been
considerate.

Whatever the cause, he went downstairs and got to the door just as there was a knock.

Harry went through the motions of ‘not knowing’ the person outside the door, for the benefit of
his Aunt, Uncle, and blob of a cousin. “Who is it?”

“Ah, Harry, this is Albus,” was the muffled reply.

The Dursleys shot a glare at the door, and Vernon started to grow red in the face as he recalled
just who ‘Albus’ was. He turned his glare upon Harry’s back before recalling Moody’s informative
briefing, and just what would happen if he made trouble this summer. With an angrier, yet scared
face, he turned back to the paper he had been reading.

“If you’re the Headmaster, what do you see in the Mirror of Erised?” Harry asked, knowing that
this was Dumbledore, but following the protocol that the Order had decided necessary.

“Some good socks,” was the mirthful reply from outside.

Finally opening the door, Harry stepped aside to let in the gray-haired, wise old man who was
beaming at him with a full-blown twinkle going. He walked in the door and began to speak.

“Good to see you looking well Harry, I honestly thought it would be a bit more time, but
nonetheless, good to see you well.”

Turning to where the Dursleys sat, he approached Vernon, holding out a hand to shake.

“Vernon, wonderful to see you again, and Petunia you too. I see your garden is just as lovely as
ever. Dudley, I have a healthy supply of lemon drops if you’d fancy one, I know many of my students
enjoy them.”

At this comment he turned slightly to wink at Harry. Meanwhile, Dudley was walking slowly
backwards, alternating between clamping his hands to his bottom, and covering his mouth. Vernon
merely kept reading the paper, mumbling a ‘Thank you, pleasant day, isn’t it?’ while paling in the
face.

Petunia got up, mentioning tea and snacks, but Harry interrupted her.

“Aunt Petunia, I already have some tea going up in my room, so the Professor and I will just go
up there for now, if that is alright with him.”

Harry looked over to Dumbledore, who just nodded and said, “I imagine that will do nicely
Harry.”

Giving a small bob of his head to the general direction of the Dursleys he continued, “Vernon,
Petunia.”

With that, Harry and Dumbledore turned and went up the stairs to Harry’s room, closing the door
securely behind them. Casting a quick locking charm and silencing bubble around the room,
Dumbledore sat down at Harry’s desk.

“Professor, would you like a cup?” Harry asked, playing the host for a bit while wondering what
was going to happen.

Dumbledore glanced at the tea over his spectacles and surveyed the room for a bit. He turned
back to Harry and began speaking.

“While I would love some tea, I believe we should be more preoccupied with business,
unfortunately. If you agree, we have a meeting at Gringotts in twenty minutes, and then we need to
see to some new living arrangements.”

Harry stared blankly at the headmaster, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard.

“Er…sir, what?” Harry asked, confused.

“Well, you may of course stay here if you’d like, but I had thought that perhaps you’d like to
leave?” Dumbledore said, incessantly twinkling his eyes while arching his eyebrows.

Harry looked at Dumbledore in confusion, rapidly thinking of how every time before this summer
he’d never been given the choice, “But…but, sir, what about the blood magic?”

Harry got up and began pacing his room, still mulling over what was going on. Dumbledore watched
on bemusedly as Harry glanced over a couple times while shaking his head. Finally, Dumbledore spoke
again.

“Harry, I imagine this will be better to discuss after our meeting at Gringotts, so let’s do
that first, shall we?”

Harry looked over at him, stopped pacing, and made a few connections in his mind as to why the
talk would be better after Gringotts.

“I get Grimmauld Place, don’t I?”

Dumbledore responded with some sadness overcoming his eyes, “I do believe Ms. Granger has rubbed
off on you Harry, but yes, I can only imagine you will be receiving Grimmauld Place today. And
before you ask, you didn’t receive a letter from Gringotts because I told them I would personally
bring you to the reading of Sirius’s will.”

Anger flashed through Harry’s head, but was quickly pushed aside as he saw Dumbledore’s face,
and recognizing that Dumbledore knew that it was Harry’s choice on whether to go or not; he just
wanted to get things done quickly to move on.

“Well Professor, I believe we’ve wasted enough time on my confusion, we only have five minutes
now until we need to be at Gringotts, correct?”

“Indeed Harry, we’ll be traveling by portkey,” at this Harry groaned, “and it will take us
directly to Gringotts’ front gates. If you would please place one hand on this parchment?” Pulling
out a piece of parchment, Dumbledore held it out to Harry.

Harry felt a smaller tug on his navel than he remembered, and then they were at Gringotts.

Harry landed in his normal way when using a portkey – disheveled, and slightly unbalanced.
Dumbledore was just a few steps ahead of him, already having gained his balance and begun walking,
so Harry followed. As they entered, nothing truly extraordinary happened, or at least, not until
everyone present at that time saw just who had walked in. Not only did Albus Dumbledore, the
strongest wizard of the time walked in, but following him was the Boy-Who-Lived. Two of the most
famous faces in all the wizarding world walked in together as if it were nothing out of the
ordinary.

Harry ignored the looks that they were both receiving and walked up to a Goblin teller with
Dumbledore. Dumbledore motioned him up to the teller’s window and he saw a rather familiar looking
goblin. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew – there were lots of goblins, after all, and many of them
looked relatively the same – but he knew that this was Griphook, the first Goblin he had ‘met’.

Harry, quite sure of his assessment, said, “Hello Griphook, I’m here for a will reading.”

The Goblin stared back at him, with a bewildered look upon his face, and then looked over
towards Dumbledore, who had an equally shocked look.

Harry looked back at Griphook, and then to Dumbledore. No one else in the bank seemed to have
noticed however, as the bustle continued around them.

He looked back to Dumbledore and asked, “Is there something wrong?”

After a moment’s silence, Dumbledore asked, “Harry, as far as I know, you’ve only been to
Gringotts a few times, am I correct?”

After tallying his visits up – which Harry admitted weren’t many, he said, “Yes, only a couple I
believe, but what does that have to do with anything?” Getting a sudden thought in his mind, Harry
asked, “I haven’t insulted you Griphook, have I? If I have, I’m terribly sorry, I don’t know much
about my finances, and even less about Goblins…you see my History class is fairly boring and even
then we mainly deal with wars…”

Before Harry could ramble on any further, Dumbledore cut in with a smile, “Harry, you’ve done
nothing wrong, but I do believe it’s shocking for you to so readily recognize Griphook. Goblins are
known for being a bit tricky to identify. Even so, we should leave this for another day, as
shocking as it may be, we have a lot of business to attend to, and I imagine that Griphook has his
own duties.”

Griphook gave a nod at this, while still looking at Harry with what could be considered awe in
his eyes. “If you could prick your thumb and validate yourself on this sheet, Mr. Potter, I’d be
glad to take you for your piece of the will.”

Upon hearing the words ‘prick’ and ‘validate’, Harry looked at Griphook in askance, “Why do I
need to prick my finger?”

Dumbledore smiled behind Harry as Griphook shook his head and replied, “We need your blood to
verify that you’re actually you, Mr. Potter. Your blood carries your unique signature not only for
your body, but of your magic.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry pricked his thumb upon a needle proffered by Griphook, then
pressed it upon the sheet of paper. The small blood print turned blue as he pulled his thumb off,
and then changed to a dark maroon before the sheet of paper burst into flames.

Harry stared where the paper used to be and asked, “I’m going to guess that that wasn’t supposed
to happen, right?”

Griphook looked up at Dumbledore, and then back down to Harry. “No, it wasn’t, but let’s try
again with a new sheet just to make sure the magic on that piece wasn’t faulty.” He didn’t mention
that the last known case of a sheet having faulty magic cast upon it was over ninety years ago.

The same thing happened when Harry placed his thumb upon the sheet again. Slightly alarmed that
they couldn’t prove that it was really him, he asked, “Why isn’t it working?”

Griphook sat in silence for a moment, and then spoke again, “I will go get the director to look
over this matter. I believe there is some interference with your magic. The blue indicates that
your body signature is correct – we know this from samples taken when you were born. The maroon
however, shows that your magic is not matching with what it should be.”

He then stepped away from his post, and went into a back door.

After waiting for ten minutes, spent with Dumbledore reading a book he had somehow brought out
of his robes, and Harry fidgeting, Griphook came back with another Goblin. This Goblin had on a
fine dark gold cloak over a peat brown button up shirt and trousers. His hair was well-kempt and he
had the slight smell of muggle paper checks.

Upon stepping up towards the desk, he announced in a voice only slightly stuffy, “I am Director
Bludrok, and if you could please follow me to a more secure location, it would be much
appreciated.”

He walked off without giving them much a chance to respond, and promptly disappeared about five
paces from where he began. Dumbledore didn’t seem phased by this, and stepped toward where Bludrok
had disappeared. Harry shrugged to himself and also moved to the location where the Director had
vanished.

When Harry stepped to the location in which the Goblin had disappeared, he felt a slight chill
run through his body. The background noise of the bank vanished, and although he could see the rest
of the bank operating, he knew from the display he’d been given that nobody could see in.

Bludrok glanced at the both of them and nodded towards chairs. “Could you please sit down, Mr.
Potter, and allow me to perform a more intensive test using your blood?”

As he said this, he pulled out a silver dish that had a pattern of gold laid on the outside that
appeared to move as the dish did. It wasn’t deep enough to be called a bowl, yet truly couldn’t be
called a plate either. Pan didn’t seem to fit the aura of brilliance it portrayed, and so the only
thing Harry could think of calling it was ‘dish’.

Dumbledore’s eyes glanced down at the dish and he asked Bludrok, “I wasn’t aware that I would be
seeing the use of Caimloku today. Do you think that it is truly that serious, Director
Bludrok?”

Bludrok turned his eyes up at Dumbledore and said, “It is Mr. Potter, and his account *is*
one of our largest, so it would be a dishonor to the both of us if I used anything lesser.”

Smiling at Harry’s surprised face, and then placing his book back in his robes, Dumbledore
simply replied, “Very well.” Towards Harry he said, “Do not worry about the blood, Goblins are the
keepers of the most advanced blood magic on the planet. They know what they are doing.”

Still a little unnerved at the prospect of giving his blood to this…’Caimloku’, as Dumbledore
had called it, Harry warily pushed at the wound on his thumb, dripping some blood into the dish.
Caimloku then lit up spectacularly. Pulling his hand away, he saw liquid forming at the base of the
dish, filling to almost the top of the lip. The bowl’s lighting died down quite a bit, but still
shone a fair amount, and the liquid in the declined part of it was mainly a see-through black, with
strikes of green jumping like electricity within. Nobody moved for a few minutes as the glow slowly
faded from the dish.

As soon as the light dispersed, Bludrok began to peer into the liquid. Waving his hands over it
to cause slight disruptions, he pulled a piece of parchment over and began writing. Occasionally he
would glance up at Harry – particularly the scar on Harry’s forehead. It seemed that the only noise
that was present was the scratching of quill against parchment, and mutterings in Gobbledegook.

After a time that seemed infinite, Bludrok stopped his glare into the black liquid, and set down
his quill. He then turned to Griphook, and gave an order in a soft and wondered tone. Harry, still
absorbed by the liquid, gave a start when he realized that the Goblin no longer was speaking of the
liquid.

Leaning forward on his elbows and grasping his hands together, Bludrok now stared into Harry’s
eyes as he spoke.

“Mr. Potter, I believe I have found the problem. Please listen to the explanation I have before
asking questions, as the situation we have discovered is something quite rare. I would ask the same
of you, Mr. Dumbledore.”

The Headmaster nodded at this, even though his face clearly showed the desire to ask what had
happened – a look Harry couldn’t remember seeing Dumbledore have before.

“First, we shall start with some background about the device before you. Caimloku is an ancient
artifact that my ancestors created near a thousand years ago. Three hundred lives, all magical
Goblins, were sacrificed in her creation. This was during a time of warring between Goblin clans –
where curses upon our magic was commonplace, and we needed a device that would show whether
somebody was afflicted by such a curse or not. You see, we can remove almost any curse from an
object or magic, but first we need to identify it. Within the dish, each curse has its own unique
trail, much like each spell you see has its own distinct aura. When your magic signature was
disrupted so much that we could not verify it, Griphook had the right thought in thinking that you
had been cursed powerfully. What I am seeing in Caimloku proves that. I have come across a number
of curses in my considerable lifetime, and have never seen either of these. One, because it is so
rare, and the other, because no living thing should have it.”

Bludrok gave them a moment for his rather lengthy introduction to sink in.

“The first curse really isn’t considered a curse when used as magic, but pertaining to blood
magic properties it is. It does not actually affect our verification process, because of the
relation you had to the caster. I believe that this curse would be protection by a parent cast upon
you. As I do not know the specifics of how it was cast and such, and as I don’t need to know, I
will not dig further. Normally, it wouldn’t be causing a problem, but that brings us to the second
curse.”

Harry nodded, already knowing what curse ‘no living thing should have’ was.

“The Killing Curse has a very unique signature. We only have records of it because the ministry
once thought that perhaps they could protect against it through blood. They were wrong, but their
error has given you great fortune today. This curse seems to have interacted with the other I
mentioned. The coverage of the familial blood magic is very little, which suggests to me that it
has both been eaten away by the Killing Curse, and weakened by time. It would easily take me the
flick of my finger to rid you of it. The Killing Curse, however, has remained incredibly strong
over the years. Mr. Potter, I will be blunt. If you had not come in here and needed to have you
blood verified for this will, you most likely would have died in two years time, after having your
magic weaken significantly during the last year. Your magic has been feeding the curse.”

Harry tried to make a comment on this, but found that even though he wanted to break his
agreement to not speak before Bludrok was done, he couldn’t due to the shock he felt. Dumbledore
had a brief flash of worry and surprise flash across his face before masking it.

“Now for the good, although bittersweet, news. I am able to remove the curse from you. There
will be a price though. Because of how the bonding of the familial magic works, it has been pulled
in along with the Killing Curse, and will have to be removed along with the Killing Curse in order
to rid yourself of it in its entirety. If you do not wish to rid yourself of the familial magic, I
can sufficiently weaken the Killing Curse so that you would need not fear for your life for another
twelve or so years. Doing this though, would not release the binding that seems to be upon your
magic. I would be able to, though, personally certify your identity for the reading of Mr. Black’s
will.”

At the word ‘block’ Harry’s ears perked up. The prophecy Sirius had mentioned said something
about ‘unblocked’ powers. Bludrok seemed to sense his burning urge to ask the question and said,
“Questions are now welcome.”

Immediately Harry asked, “What is this block on my magic, and how will removing these curses
remove it? Also, would doing this damage my ability to use magic in any way?”

Bludrok smiled a bit before answering the questions, having seen the Headmaster nod at each
point Harry made.

“The block is caused by the curse feeding on your magic. It is like a leech pulling away power
from you, so that it may survive and grow stronger. Furthermore, your magic needs to constantly
defend against this curse. To begin with, the drain upon your magic was a rather modest amount.
Over the years the drain has increased, and was blocking much of your magical ability for your
starting year at Hogwarts. As Headmaster Dumbledore can attest to, magical books are more easily
read and spell casting is more easily learned when a greater amount of magic is available to the
Wizard or Witch. This is due to the nature of the magic reacting to the magical theory. What is
little known – mainly because of how lost blood magic theory is, is that the magic directly learns
the theory through the magical properties of the book – thus the stronger ‘pool’ if you will of
magic will need less time to accumulate the theory. I imagine that as your schooling has gone
along, it has been harder and harder to learn spells?”

At Harry’s nod he continued.

“While I don’t doubt there have been other factors that have influenced this, I would suggest
that it is predominantly not your fault. If I’m not mistaken, you are moving into sixth year at
this point. I believe it would be wise to contest your OWL results regardless of what they are, and
offer the fact that you were under the strain of a curse as reasoning. Your performance, no matter
how good, will be astronomically better if you choose to open this blockade.”

Harry broke in at this point, asking, “My Defense Against the Dark Arts abilities and grades
have always been fairly good though, so doesn’t that disprove this theory?”

“I believe this is because your magic has been focused on little else besides fighting the
strongest Dark Art there is for the past fifteen or so years. Now, as for your second point, after
removing these curses, my estimate is that you will recover your full magic within one week. I
would like to point out that a Witch or Wizard of average power would never have survived this.
Even an extraordinarily powerful Witch or Wizard would have been dead five years ago. This is not a
slight to your abilities, but rather, a compliment,” Bludrok replied without missing a beat.

Processing what he’d been hearing the last ten minutes, Harry started to ask just how it was a
compliment when Dumbledore stepped in.

“Harry, I have read reports of Caimloku’s work twice before, each time on a
rather…average…wizard whom had a little extra money and thought it would be fun to request her use.
The light she gave off upon them lasted a mere six seconds. The light you caused Caimloku to
project lasted around four *minutes*. When Caimloku is casting her light, she is measuring
your powers. I believe the difference in your powers with regards to the average Wizard would be
about the difference between a liter jug and a muggle vehicle’s petrol tank.”

Bludrok nodded before adding in, “It will take you longer to recuperate your magical energy than
it would an average Wizard. As for your last question, not only would there be no harm to your
ability to cast magic as I think you’ve figured out, and not only would you be able to learn your
materials at above the average level, but your bloodlines natural talents would finally show too.
From what I can tell, in your bloodline through you parents, you come directly from at least one
Animagus, although it could possibly be two, and the ancestors you draw from on one side of your
family have almost all been Animagi. This has a significant impact upon your Transfiguration
ability as you might imagine. Also, due to the fact that you have had a charm – your familial blood
curse – so closely intertwined with your magic for so long, some affinity towards Charm type magic
would appear to be likely. As you have a large boost in defending against Dark attacks from the
proximity to the curse, your magic has already had a long time to form itself into a resistance
against Dark Magic. If my analysis is correct, you will find that your performance in classes will
not be a problem as it has in the past, regardless of whether the class is one in which your
bloodline abilities lie in.”

Harry could only stare vacantly at the Director after finally hearing the end of all he was
told. He only realized that he had stood up and started pacing after Dumbledore put a hand on his
shoulder. Harry tried to sit back in the chair he had taken earlier while shaking. He soon learned
that this wasn’t a good idea, as the shaking threw off his perception of where the chair was. He
ended up landing on the hard marble floor, with a laughing Headmaster and grinning Director looking
at him. He tried to get up with as much dignity as possible, and brush himself off before sitting
down, but he began laughing too; perhaps for different reasons than the other two, but laughing
nonetheless. He was still awed at all he had heard, but with his laughter relieving the stress of
the situation, he found himself smiling at the thought of feeling his ‘true’ power. Just before
agreeing to have the procedure done in its entirety, he realized he had forgotten one thing. His
face turned crestfallen, and he looked at Dumbledore.

“I imagine that I should not have my blood protection removed, Professor?” he asked, in a voice
that betrayed his reluctance. The answer he received, however, was one that he should have expected
had he been thinking clearly.

“Well, Harry, I hardly imagine it matters if you won’t be living at Privet Drive after
today.”

He turned to see a grinning Dumbledore and eyes that were now sparkling rather than twinkling.
The old man seemed at least fifty years younger as his eyes showed just how much he wanted to see
Harry’s ‘true’ power.

Harry thought about a multitude of things while making the turn back to Director Bludrok. As the
curse being lifted from him was the most serious that could be inflicted, he knew there would be a
lot of risk involved for Bludrok, and also knew that such a thing was important enough to his life
to warrant a hefty payment. Harry thought about what he’d learned about Goblins from Hermione’s
History notes. Remembering that they were very honor-driven and the fact that they were so powerful
in Blood Magic, Harry decided upon an appropriate payment.

Harry looked into the now serious face of Bludrok and stated, “In that case, I would ask you to
perform this cleansing on me, and would also like to offer to you a trade for this extraordinary
service. Even if you would have me not pay you, I think you may reconsider when you hear what I am
offering.” Steeling himself for the payment, Harry stood and then bent slightly at the waist as he
had seen the illustrations do in his History book. (They were the most interesting part,
anyway)

“I, Harry James Potter, give to you my Oath as a Wizard, to seek the inclusion of Goblinkind
among the fully instated Wizengamot, the Ministry of Magic, and the entirety of the Wizarding
world, along your own allied magical creatures, as long as they do hold the intellect to discuss
and arrive at decisions fairly. As a symbol of this promise, I offer a Blood Pact after the
cleansing, so as to bind our races together physically as well as symbolically.”

While he hadn’t really thought about the words that had come out of his mouth – a traditionally
given Wizard’s Oath bound a spell upon the Wizard who was speaking it to speak only with great
import – Harry had to admit that they had certain flair. A flair that his “I’ll help you and the
other Goblins become a part of Wizard society, along with your friends, and want you to use my
blood as part of this promise,” didn’t have.

With the start of the Wizard’s Oath, Bludrok had closed his eyes. At the end, Harry could have
sworn there was a tear leaking from each closed eye. Without another word, Bludrok stared at Harry
for a moment, nodded his head solemnly, and snapped his fingers.

Behind Harry, Dumbledore was awed at the depth of the offer Harry had just offered Bludrok. He
had known that Harry possessed a strong sense of righteousness, but he hadn’t known just how deeply
he was committed to those whom he was grateful to. His eyes also had tears in them, but because of
the display of maturity the young man he had watched grow up now showed. After receiving the
heartfelt apology for the destruction of his office space along with Harry’s request for help, he
knew the young man in front of him would grow to be an extraordinary wizard and gentleman.

A half dozen Goblins came to Bludrok after the snap of his fingers, lead by Griphook, whom
because of the fact that he was the one to bring this to the attention of the Director, was in
extreme favor right now. They began to draw a large circle of liquid similar to what was in
Caimloku around Harry and Bludrok. Upon their own bodies they traced multiple runes, and then did
the same to Harry. Bludrok dipped his hands into the liquid within Caimloku and drew the same runes
upon himself, along with many more complicated designs. The Goblins who had been drawing the circle
and runes sat themselves on the circle’s lines and started a low, humming chant in
Gobbledegook.

Harry felt a tingling began to spread from his heart. As it passed through his body, he felt
lighter than air, even though he remained firmly in his chair. Bludrok began a higher chant, while
pressing his small fingers against the runes painted upon himself before. Caimloku again flared
into a brilliant light, and the liquid remaining in her flowed out, connecting Harry and Bludrok’s
foreheads in a stream of black and green fluid.

Now a separate, euphoric, tingling began from where the fluid touched his head, causing chills
of happiness to go down his spine. He became slightly alarmed as the fluid began to writhe in the
center point between the Director and himself, but saw the look of concentration on Bludrok’s face
and was reassured in the thought that he knew what he was doing. A slight pressure started to come
next, from his heart again, as though all the blood in his body was being pulled out from that
central point. Along with the pressure came another change in the liquid. The green streaks in it
started to shorten, some disappearing entirely. This process continued as the pressure strengthened
in his chest. When it finally got to the point of feeling almost painful, the green streaks were
gone, and the black liquid began fading to a clear white color. The pressure slowly receded from
his chest. Once the liquid turned white, it separated from his forehead and began to flow back into
Caimloku. Bludrok lowered the volume of his chanting slowly, and stopped altogether once the liquid
was completely contained again. The runes on his body were gone. The outer circle of Goblins began
to lower their chant too, and the tingling sensations left Harry. The chanting stopped, and then
Bludrok fell back in his chair.

As if snapped out of a trance, the other Goblins fell back where they sat. Worried about the
safety of them, Harry began, “Bludrok!” but was interrupted almost instantly.

“I am glad that this worked properly the first time. If you would allow me to rest a moment
before we continue on, that would be wonderful.”

The Goblins surrounding them were already getting back up tiredly and cleaning the runes off of
Harry’s body, and their own. A slight char was visible on the floor where the circle had been. A
quick couple sweeps from a hand cause all the charring to disappear. The only evidence left of the
entire ritual was the white liquid in Caimloku in front of them. Bludrok slowly sat up, looked
Harry in the eyes, and smiled widely. His white, sharp teeth were fully exposed, but he looked
absolutely gleeful.

“Now, Mr. Potter, I believe that we have some business to take care of. I would be most honored
to take care of the matter of your will reading before we continue with your Oath, but it is most
ultimately your decision.”

Harry didn’t even have to think as he stated, “No, I will fulfill my promise before my personal
matters. I think it would be only proper after the enormous amount of effort you and your staff
just exhibited.”

Another Goblin came up carrying a gleaming knife, the handle of which was simply a rounded part
of the blade. Bludrok fished out a vial the size of Harry’s pinky and handed it to the Goblin.
Harry dutifully rolled up his sleeve and offered his arm to the Goblin with the knife. The Goblin
bowed slightly and placed the vial next to Harry’s arm. With a quick motion, a deep cut was made
and blood freely fell into the expertly placed vial. When it was full, the goblin ran the blade
over Harry’s cut and it was healed. Grinning at Harry, he placed a stopper upon the vial and handed
it to Bludrok. Bludrok placed a spell over it, and then gave instructions to Griphook behind him.
Griphook gently took the vial from Bludrok’s hands and then walked to the center of Gringotts where
customers were standing upon the bank’s runic symbol. He shooed them off of it, and then gently
removed the stopper. Pouring the blood slowly over the symbol, he chanted quietly. As soon as the
last drop of the blood fell upon the floor, it was absorbed into every piece of the rune. The whole
bank seemed to shift, and suddenly a wave pulsed from the rune. Those outside the bank could see
its protective shielding become visible for a moment, while those on the inside witnessed the
change of everything Gringotts. The floors became shinier, the walls sturdier, everything more
*gold*. The bank itself seemed to have perked up after the rune absorbed Harry’s blood.

Bludrok said, with a tone of gratitude, “It would have taken us twenty days of spellcasting and
fifty-two thousand galleons to do what you have just done to the bank, Mr. Potter. I must agree
with Mr. Dumbledore when he says that you are to average Wizards as ‘a liter is to a muggle
vehicle’s petrol tank.’ You have my and the entire bank’s gratitude. Now, I believe you came here
for a will reading. If you could press your thumb against this piece of paper once more, we will
begin.”

Holding out a third copy of the paper that started this entire day, he smiled at Harry. Not
knowing what else to do after seeing what his blood had done to the bank, Harry simply pressed his
thumb to the parchment. The small print turned blue, green, and then gold. The parchment rolled
itself, flipped into the air, and made a loud pop before disappearing.

Bludrok looked pleased and said, “Let us get on with business, shall we?”