A/N: Blink and you'll miss a potshot at the Elder Wand. By the way, the Deathly Hallows, should the story get that far, will not be featured in this story. Talk about the ultimate plot contrivances… If you've read Bearings, you will recognize Potter Manor. And lastly, I promise the summer will move more quickly after this chapter.
Chapter Twenty One
Summer 1992
"Ah Harry, so you have returned," Dumbledore said. He did not move from his chair. His tone of voice was completely ambiguous, and his facial expression was not revealing his current emotions. "And I see you have Miss and Mrs. Granger with you. How nice."
"Headmaster," I said, as curtly as possible. Mum simply nodded at him. His white eyebrows rose toward his white hair at my tone.
"Sir," Harry said. A beat, then: "What are you doing here? You have never visited me before." I could tell by the way Harry had said it that it was meant to be a slight dig at the Headmaster.
He completely ignored Harry's question. "Where were you?" he asked.
Harry just stared at him. Eventually he looked at me and mum and directed us to follow him with his eyes. He began to walk toward the house, and I followed. Mum shook herself and fell in step behind me. Dumbledore watched all of this impassively. As Harry mounted the two steps to the porch and started to walk past him, Dumbledore finally moved. He stood up much more quickly than expected for his age and moved between Harry and the front door. I noticed he had his wand in his hand.
"Where were you, Harry? Hermione? Where did you take them, Mrs. Granger?" Harry had stopped directly in front of Dumbledore, and was now looking up into his face. It was a contest of wills, and I began to sweat. Harry might be stubborn, but Dumbledore was reputedly as powerful as Merlin. I fleetingly wondered what immolation felt like.
"Excuse me, sir, I would like to enter my home," Harry ground out. This verbal game of shadows was getting us nowhere; I was sorely tempted to blow the whole thing wide open and tell the Headmaster, once again, exactly what I thought of him and his apparent machinations.
"I will ask you only one more time, Harry-"
"Or what?" Harry demanded, suddenly very angry. I felt an ethereal push against my being, and I knew that it was Harry's magic. His emotions were strong enough to make his magic tangible. "You placed me here the night my parents were killed, so you should have absolutely no objection to me wanting to go back inside this godforsaken dump called home." He was breathing heavily so I rested my hands on his shoulders from behind to try to calm him down. Mum was no doubt watching this confrontation from behind me, taking it all in and analyzing every little detail.
Dumbledore did not respond for a moment. He looked closely at Harry, me, and mum. His eyes settled on the various packages. Something seemed to dawn on him.
"Show me your right hand, Harry," he demanded; up until this moment, Harry's right hand had been resolutely stuffed into his pocket.
For a moment, I was unsure what Harry was going to do-if he'd had his wand, he might have tried to curse the Headmaster-but eventually he pulled his hand from his pocket and shoved the Potter family ring in Dumbledore's face.
The Headmaster's eyes widened, in what amounted to rather superfluous surprise. He had obviously suspected exactly what his eyes were confirming.
Several things happened at once, almost too fast for my eyes and brain to follow:
Harry fell back a step, bumping into me, and causing me to bump into mum;
Dumbledore raised his wand against the three of us, drawing in a breath for whatever spell he had in mind;
Harry raised his hands, palms outward, toward the Headmaster's chest;
Dumbledore's wand flashed and Harry yelled, "NO!"
The Headmaster was thrown into the front door, landing on his bum with his wand at Harry's feet.
The shocked silence that ensued was broken only by Harry's heavy breathing and Dumbledore's stuttered albeit brief cough. Mum and I fanned out to Harry's sides as he bent to pick up Dumbledore's wand. I was so thoroughly outraged at what the Headmaster had attempted to do that I could not form a coherent thought, except for the fact that Harry had just prevailed-and wandlessly-over the most powerful wizard since Merlin. The anger radiating off mum was almost as powerful as Harry's ambient magic, though of course not physically palpable.
"Explain yourself!" she demanded. "This behavior is absolutely unacceptable-criminal even-and if I do not receive a satisfying explanation within the next ten minutes, I am withdrawing Hermione from Hogwarts and reporting everything that has occurred to the proper authorities."
Dumbledore looked like he was about issue a scathing retort, but I watched as his eyes settled upon Harry, who was currently eyeing the Headmaster's wand with something like detached curiosity. He held it in such a way that a twitch of his fingers would snap the wand in half. The sight of Harry so casually holding so much power between his fingers is something that I will never forget. People always used to say that Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, but if you saw Harry in that moment, you would have been forced to add him to that short list.
So instead of saying something that would get his wand snapped, Dumbledore sagged a little and acquiesced with a wave of his hand.
"Come, let us go inside and have a seat in the parlor where we can discuss things away from the prying eyes of the neighbors." He stood and, after opening the front door, moved inside the house; we followed him inside behind Harry, who still held the wand between his fingers. I supposed that it was our insurance policy. None of the Dursleys appeared to be home, even after all that time had passed since we'd left. Dumbledore sat in a chair by the fireplace, and the three of us at on the sofa, facing him.
"If you don't mind, Headmaster, I think I will keep your wand for now," Harry stated, meeting the other man's eyes. Dumbledore nodded slightly.
"As you wish, Harry," he sighed.
"Don't you mean Lord Potter?" I asked, unable to resist. Dumbledore started, but nodded again.
"Yes, and I apologize for the slight, Lord Potter," he corrected. He had never looked more his age.
"Why?" Harry asked, after a lengthy pause. It was a simple question-simple but eloquent, considering the circumstances.
"The answer to that question is quite complicated," Dumbledore began, "and I rather think that some of the information is perhaps a little too sensitive for someone your age-"
"Someone who is a Lord and the Head of a Most Noble and Ancient House," Harry said, interrupting the Headmaster. I rested my hand on Harry's leg for moral support, preferring to let him handle this. He seemed to have it under control at the moment.
"Which you have been for only a few hours, Harry," Dumbledore returned. "Adding the title of Lord to your name does nothing concrete to prepare you for the horrors of the world-"
"Like abusive guardians? Like sleeping in bloody cupboard under the stairs for the first eleven years of my life? Like thinking your parents were alcoholics and had killed themselves in a car accident because they were boozing? Like vanquishing the most evil dark lord in centuries twice during my short life?" Harry asked, rhetorically. His voice has risen considerably by the end. Dumbledore had a disbelieving look on his face, as if the information Harry had just supplied to him about his upbringing was news. I found that hard to believe.
"Why do you look so shocked, Headmaster?" I asked. "Surely you must have known about Harry's living conditions-you did, after all, leaving him here against the express wishes of his parents."
"I had no idea…" he said, his thoughts clearly far away.
"You mean to tell me you never checked on Harry, not once, during the last twelve years?" mum asked, raging again. "How could you do that? How could any responsible adult do that?"
"I assumed that because Harry was of Lily's blood Petunia would treat him as one of her own."
"Then you obviously did absolutely no research into the matter before you unequivocally decided to cast Harry's fate to the wind," mum continued. "It should have been painfully obvious from even the most cursory of inspections that Harry was suffering a childhood no moral person would wish upon anyone else."
Dumbledore had no counter and merely looked to Harry to support or refute what mum had just said. Harry eventually just shrugged, uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. I squeezed his thigh to let him know that he should not be embarrassed over the pain others had inflicted upon him.
"Why did you not write me about this, Harry? Or even tell me about these things during our many meetings at Hogwarts?"
"I assumed you knew," Harry answered. "And I couldn't write you this summer, even when Gringotts contacted me, because the Dursleys locked all of my magical things in the cupboard under the stairs. Hedwig is locked in her cage in my room."
Dumbledore's eyes hardened at this information. "Is that so?" he asked, dangerously. Harry nodded.
"Lord Potter, I swear upon my magic that I will not turn my wand upon you, Miss Granger, or Mrs. Granger again. It was foolish, thoughtless, and unfortunately a knee-jerk reaction. In my old age I have become rather set in my ways, and any surprises to those ways are not well-received. Please do accept my apology and my oath," the Headmaster said, and there was a flash of magic throughout the room as the oath took hold. Harry stared coolly at him for just a moment; then, quite casually, he flicked the wand toward the Headmaster. Like a practiced seeker, Dumbledore snatched it out of the air.
"Accio Harry's things locked in the cupboard. Accio Hedwig's cage," he said. There was a muffled bang as the door to the cupboard under the stairs was thrown off its hinges, landing in the middle of the hallway to the kitchen. All of Harry's magical belongings floated gently out of the small space, stopping in front of Harry and settling to the floor. Harry looked like Christmas had come early; his eyes lit up and a happy grin spread over his face. He immediately reached into his trunk for his wand, which he put in his lap. Our attention was then drawn to the stairs, from where a hooting was now coming. Hedwig's padlocked cage was floating slowly down from Harry's room, eventually settling in front of Dumbledore.
"Alohomora," he incanted, and the padlock fell away. "Have a good fly, beautiful," Dumbledore whispered, opening the cage and flicking his wand again. The bay window behind us was immediately without glass, which was soon replaced by another flick of the Headmaster's wand. I watched Hedwig wing into the early evening sky for a few moments.
"Thank you," Harry said, returning my attention to the parlor. "But that does not excuse you from certain things… from certain explanations."
"I figured as much," Dumbledore replied.
"Why was my parents' will sealed by the Wizengamot?" Harry wondered. This was the question for which I had been waiting; the Headmaster's explanation would have to be a good one to satisfy me.
"There were countless people after the Potter title and fortune directly after the death of your parents. It was felt to be in your best interest to remove you from that whirlwind as quickly and resolutely as possible, so you didn't have to grow up with that on your head."
"And by `it was felt' do you mean you felt that way?" I questioned.
"For the most part, yes."
"But who were you to make decisions like that on my behalf?" Harry asked.
"I was the so-called Leader of the Light, Harry. There is some information regarding you that you do not have, something which should wait until you are much older, which informed my decision to place you here. Obviously I was unaware of the treatment, otherwise I would have removed you immediately."
"What information?" I asked.
Dumbledore looked like he realized he'd said too much.
"I believe that it is in our best interest to hold off on that conversation for a few years."
"No," Harry said. "I've had enough of the lies. I've had enough of other people deciding what's best for me. I am now Lord Potter and, although I am only eleven, I now have the right to know everything. Tell me why I'm so important, Headmaster. Tell me why Voldemort came after my parents that night."
Mum caught my attention then, mouthing "Voldemort?" at me. I shook my head and mouthed "not now" back at her.
Once again, Dumbledore drew himself up and was most likely about to tell Harry off, but again he eventually deflated.
"Very well." His wand flicked. "Silencing charm," he explained. "This is an extreme simplification, mind you, but essentially you are the one fated to ultimately destroy or be destroyed by Voldemort."
"Fated?" Harry asked, sounding just as confused as I felt. Mum had narrowed her eyes; her perceptiveness would undoubtedly cause some problems later on, because I had refrained from telling my parents about our more dangerous activities at Hogwarts.
"A prophecy was made about a boy born at the end of July to parents that had defied Voldemort three times. You and Neville Longbottom fit the bill, but you ultimately fulfilled that part of the prophecy when Voldemort gave you that scar," Dumbledore said, pointing to Harry's forehead.
"So that's why he killed my parents that night, and tried to kill me?" Harry wondered out loud. "It was personal and he felt like he had to do the job himself…"
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, and because you somehow turned the Killing Curse back upon Voldemort and became the Boy Who Lived-an instant celebrity-I felt that you should grow up away from all that attention and have as normal a childhood as you could."
"Obviously you felt wrong," I muttered, turning over all of this new information in my head. Voldemort's sick obsession with Harry now made sense; this knowledge would have been dead useful the previous year, and I was about to tell the Headmaster that when Harry started speaking once again.
"But why did you leave me here?" Harry wondered. "My parents' will specifically stipulated that I have a balanced childhood. If that didn't lead me to normality, then surely nothing would-especially this mockery of a family you call the Dursleys!"
"So the will was unsealed then?" Dumbledore clarified.
"Of course it was," Harry replied. "The Wizengamot was powerless to stop me, even if they had still wanted to."
Dumbledore's guilty look exposed the true nature of the situation. "It was you!" I exclaimed. "You abused your position as Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot to have the will sealed before it could be read!"
Dumbledore's eyes dropped to his lap. "Yes," he admitted.
"But why?" Harry asked, sounding sad and confused. I looked at his face saw such a heart-breaking, soul-aching, bone-wearying sadness etched there that I couldn't help but start crying. He had gone through so much during his short life, and all because some old man had deemed it in his best interest to hide him away from the world. "It's not as if my parents wanted to put me directly into the spotlight," he continued. "They clearly wanted me to have as normal a childhood as someone in my position could have had, with one of three guardians they assumed would look out for me, for me."
Dumbledore must have sensed something odd in Harry's repetition and emphasis, because he looked up with a questioning gaze.
"My parents named you as a potential guardian, Headmaster," Harry said, rather sadly. He sounded tired now, as if all this drama had drained him of most of his energy. Truthfully, I was feeling quite drained myself. My nerves were shot and my face was wet from the few fat tears that had leaked from my eyes.
"You and two other men-Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. What happened to them? I'm assuming they were friends of my parents, so why did they not question my placement here?"
Dumbledore's mouth had dropped open in genuine surprise, though in his eyes I could see an encroaching sadness that nearly matched Harry's.
"They named me as your guardian?" he asked, almost a whisper.
"Yes, after Black and Lupin," Harry answered.
"They named me as your guardian…" the Headmaster repeated, although his voice had turned inward. "Then placing you here was moot anyway…and Sirius…"
Abruptly, the Headmaster stood. The sadness was still in his eyes, but his face was resolute and determined. I caught Harry's hand instinctively gripping his wand out of the corner of my eye.
"Excuse me for my sudden departure, but I believe I have a few wrongs to right," the Headmaster said, with vigor. He looked alive again; the years fell away from his countenance as he was given a new purpose. "I do not know how to thank you for telling me that about the will, Harry. You have no idea how much that means to me, that Lily and James would have trusted me enough for actual guardianship. I now need to live up to their esteem of me, something I know I cannot do immediately but hope to eventually. I promise that I will make all of this up to you, somehow. Please do forgive any trespasses, and I will not try to stop you from leaving this house. All that I ask is that you keep an open mind with regard to me, so that we can have another conversation at whichever property you choose to reside at for the summer?"
Harry looked bewildered at the sudden change in the Headmaster's demeanor. He nodded slowly at the request. "Of course, Headmaster."
"Thank you. I shall now take my leave of you-oh, one more thing. As an emancipated magical Lord, the underage restriction on magic no longer applies to you." His eyes twinkled. "Use it well," he added, and vanished with a slight pop.
"I think you both need to explain this Voldemort to me," mum said. Harry and I looked at each other, suddenly worried for our future, together and at Hogwarts.
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Much later that night-Tuesday, 22 June 1992-Harry and I sat close to each other on my bed. From the moment Dumbledore had left the Dursleys until now, we had been grilled by mum, followed by dad, about exactly what had occurred during our first year at Hogwarts. Near the beginning of that long and difficult conversation, it had been decided that Harry would be staying the night at my house, to be taken to Gringotts the next day. He would then move on to wherever he would stay for the summer, which we had eventually decided would be the ancestral Manor in the Highlands. Mum and I would accompany him at first to make sure he was provided for and taken care of; after that, he would have a freedom of movement due to the nature of his Lordship that he had never enjoyed.
Because the specter of Voldemort had not sprung up overnight, it had been necessary to go into Wizarding history at some length to explain the prevailing bigoted attitudes. Mum and, after we had returned to my house, dad had both been appalled at how backward the magical world was, and their automatic reaction had been to declare our removal from Hogwarts and magical society in general. The ensuing argument could have been much more difficult if not for one thing: mum had witnessed Harry reclaiming his family's history, which was undeniably and inextricably steeped in the magical world.
As Harry explained that it would now be impossible for him to leave magic behind-and subtly reminded my parents that they had no legal power over him as Lord Potter-he turned the tide in the argument. His impassioned words about living up to his parents' legacy and making them proud brought tears to my eyes and my mum's. His trump card was claiming that he did not think he would be able to do that without me. Mum and dad's eyes changed at that statement, and even though Harry had gone on to say the same about Ron, Sally, and Neville, he had named me first and with the most emotion in his voice.
Ultimately it was left up to us to decide; they said if I wanted to remain in the magical world they expected I would be much more forthcoming and truthful about what was happening. They did not want to lose me as a daughter to the completely separate sphere of existence, and they were afraid if I didn't share everything-the good with the bad-that it could happen. Harry assured them he would not let that happen, and with his considerable financial and familial influence, of which he had just learned, he now had the means to make sure that it did not.
Dad couldn't resist poking some good-natured fun at the eleven-year-old billionaire sitting in his house, and it had lightened the mood considerably. After the conversation had dwindled to a close, my parents had left us to think and chat in my bedroom. Harry's things were down the hall in the spare bedroom, where he would again be spending the night, just like the holidays.
"That could have been worse," I said, picking up after a short period of silence.
"S'pose so," Harry mumbled, falling back and sprawling out across my bed with an oomph. I turned my body to look at him and rested my chin on the palm of one hand; my hair partially obscured my face because of this movement.
"What are we going to tell our other friends, Hermione," he eventually asked, revealing what had obviously been bothering him.
"The truth, I'd imagine." He smiled and looked over at me. "What?" I asked.
"You're pretty amazing, you know?" he said, catching me completely by surprise.
"Um, thanks?"
"No, really," he said, sitting up and putting his face right in mine. Those eyes of his were radiating warmth and sincerity. "You took all of this in stride, even when Vinx revealed that I am one of the richest people in the world."
I pointed out the obvious: "You took this pretty well too, Harry." His proximity was a little disconcerting. It was sending thoughts cartwheeling through my brain that I had never before entertained.
He shrugged. "I had to."
"Well, so did I."
"How so?" he wondered, cocking his head a bit. Merlin, he looked so cute! I errantly wondered what he'd do if I leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. I shook my head to clear that image away.
"You're my best friend. You think I would let something like a little inheritance come between us? It doesn't make you a different person."
"No, just a Lord," he replied, smirking.
I laughed. His feigned arrogance was actually quite funny, considering that I knew Harry would never want to use his title or his wealth to his own advantage over someone else. Unless…well, unless that someone else was a Malfoy.
"You know, Harry," I said, smirking right back at him. My voice had a devious tone to it. "I wonder what Malfoy will say when he sees the Potter crest on your Hogwarts robes?"
He chuckled and flopped back once again. I was momentarily annoyed that I'd lost my chance to so casually and briefly press my lips against his. But who was I kidding? If I had done that at that very moment, there's no telling what might have happened. Harry could have run screaming; my parents could have walked in at that moment; I could have ruined our friendship. Or, it could have been amazing. Alas, that night was not when I found out.
"Nothing good, I'm sure." He paused, closing his eyes. "Do you think we should antagonize people about it?"
It was a relatively mature and reasonable question for someone his age, especially someone with newfound wealth and power. And I was happy beyond expression that he said we, rather than I.
"I don't think we should go out of our way to do that sort of thing," I said, slowly, thinking carefully about this. "But I also do not think we should ever back down from any kind of challenge to your name or your station. Do you know what your family crest says, Harry?"
We had briefly looked at the thick roll of parchment Vinx had provided. It had boggled our already-saturated minds even more, so we only really glanced at it. In the near future, though, I fully planned on tackling it in some depth with Harry.
"Something in Latin," he asked, sounding amused.
"Yes," I said, rolling my eyes. Your family motto is Animus Ab Aeterno. Any idea what that means?"
"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me!"
I smacked his leg, enjoying his brighter mood. It felt immeasurably good to simply relax with my friend, after such a monumental day. We had found out he was a Lord, that he was filthy rich, and that he could wandlessly hand Dumbledore his arse. It had been fueled by powerful and desperate emotions, but that magical feat had nonetheless been something to remember. I had been wondering all evening how Dumbledore planned to right his wrongs with Harry, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.
"Literally, it means spirit out of eternity. The essence of the phrase, though, is something more along the lines of courage from time immemorial." He was just looking at me from his position on his back. "Any idea the significance of that?"
He shook his head. "It sounds impressive, but otherwise, no."
"It is impressive. Family crests and mottos are legally sanctioned entities, which means that the phrasing is very important. Ab Aeterno-from time immemorial-in legalese means stemming from a period of time before reliable records exist. As you heard today, the magical world possesses those types of records much farther back than its Muggle counterparts. So for the Potter family motto, of all things, to contain that phrase means your family is actually much older than Vinx intimated.
"Sure, Marcus Potter may have sat at the Round with Arthur Pendragon, but your line must go much farther back. The Potter name was important enough by 522 to become a Most and Ancient House at that time. I wouldn't be surprised if you find when you peruse all of that information that your genealogy runs backward through most or all of recorded history. Ab Aeterno implies this, and for it to be part of your official family motto, it must be true."
Harry was just staring at me.
"What?" I wondered, suddenly self-conscious. I had let my mouth run away from me and Harry was probably thinking I was ridiculous.
"You're brilliant, Hermione," he said, and sat up quickly. He leaned into me and wrapped his arms around me. I was still for a second; then I returned the embrace with a vengeance. Harry Potter was my best friend and through the trials of the day I was actually beginning to think of him as something more. I did not have the courage to say or do anything about it just yet, but the seed had been planted and it would grow quickly.
"Thanks, Harry," I said, pulling back and not trying to hide my blush. "Anyway," I continued, "I don't think we should let the bigots, the ignorant, or the sycophants"-to use one of his words-"get away with anything they do directly. As a Lord you have a greatly expanded set of rights. I'd suggest getting your hands on an official Hogwarts Code of Conduct and seeing what you can and cannot do as both a Lord and an emancipated magical citizen."
He nodded. "Good enough for me. You do know that I would be completely lost without you?"
"And I would be dead to a mountain troll without you," I replied, quietly. His green eyes locked with mine; in that instant, our friendship was elevated to the level of an amorphous area between friends and something more. As he left my room for his bed that night, he lingered in my arms during our goodnight hug longer than was really necessary. I was not complaining.
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The next day was a whirlwind of activity and passed at an extremely rapid pace. After stopping at Sally's in the morning and explaining much of what had happened to her-and allowing her to recover somewhat from her shock-mum took me, Harry, and Sally back to Diagon Alley. Harry stopped at the Owl Emporium after realizing he needed to send Ron and Neville a note about what had occurred; following that, we all entered Gringotts. Vinx met us in the lobby after a few minutes and we began the long, twisting, and frightening journey down to Harry's vault. I was fairly certain I caught a glimpse or two of some large creature with wings when we were near the oldest vaults.
The Potter family vault was one of them, as it was Number Five, so we watched as Vinx rekeyed the vault to Harry's blood. He also produced a brand new physical key, which only Harry could actually use. When Harry opened the vault, the intangibility of a few billion pounds suddenly became tangible; and his family history, which we had been discussing the previous night, was physically manifested by the contents of that vault. Mum, Sally, and I walked through the vast piles of galleons with Harry, stopping every now and then at interesting-looking items, but eventually we tired of the near-endless room and left the vault. Harry requested an itemized list of everything contained in the vault, which Vinx said would take several weeks to compile. Harry told him it was no problem and asked for just one more thing: the special family Portkey to Potter Manor. Vinx showed him where it was in the vault-the goblin would die a most painful death if he attempted to touch it-and Harry started toward it.
He stopped two paces away from it, though. "How do we leave the Manor?" he wondered, turning back to Vinx. "I need to go back with the Grangers after we have a look around to get my things, and I'm sure these three fine ladies don't want to remain my prisoners for the rest of the summer."
I thought there might have been worse things to endure-and by Sally's smirk, directed toward me, she could tell where my thoughts were-but wisely said nothing.
The always-enthusiastic goblin cackled and informed Harry that, as the Lord of a Most Noble and Ancient House, he had the right to create a Portkey whenever and to wherever he wished, as long as it did not violate the Statute of Secrecy. Harry did not know how to make one, but Vinx assured him it was actually quite easy: one need only point one's wand at an inanimate object, think of the exact destination and an activation word, and incant portus. The creation and use of Portkeys was heavily restricted for good reasons, which led to the myth that they were hard to make, but Harry was not bound by those laws. This meant he could Portkey all of us back to our living room, if he wanted.
Mum then said perhaps they should depart to the Manor from our house, so we didn't have to worry about the car later that day. Harry agreed, and after learning the activation word for the Portkey from Vinx-fortiori-he picked up the small marble version of his family crest and we left Gringotts. All we could talk about on the short ride home was what the Manor would be like, especially because it was the ancestral home of one of the oldest families in the world. I was imaging some kind of gothic castle, like Hogwarts, though honestly that probably would have been disappointing. For some reason I knew Harry was more modern than that, and if it turned out to be a bloody big castle, I wondered if he might try one of the other major properties.
He set the Portkey on the coffee table in the middle of our living room; after we all had a finger on it, he said the magic word. Our world tilted and spun for several seconds.
The air-conditioned coolness of my house was suddenly replaced with a windier, slightly warmer climate; the muted natural light of the living room was replaced by bright June sunshine; and our house was replaced by an expansive Scottish heath. We all looked around to make sure all had made it intact; when we saw that all four of us were there, Harry put the Portkey in his pocket.
I took a moment to absorb the breathtakingly beautiful landscape around me. We stood on a narrow dirt path-narrow only because the wild Highland grasses had grown up to the very edge. In all directions except to our right, the heath expanded outward from us like some vast mythical landscape. The reddish-brown and light green grasses swayed in the ever-present breeze, and I inhaled deeply as the crisp, clean scent of unpolluted air filled my nostrils. Behind us and to the right (to the east, judging from the position of the sun in the southern half of the sky), the dirt path extended toward a loch and continued along its edge until it was no longer distinguishable. My eyes followed that loch up our right side, marveling at the dark blue color of the water-and the sandy beach I saw on the opposite shore-before catching my first glimpse of the Manor. It was a three story mansion, for lack of a better word, that was rectangular yet elegant. To our left, to the west, there was a line of short, dark green trees in the far distance; the land between here and there was nothing but pure heath, with multicolored scrub-like growths and grasses swaying in the wind.
In the far distance to our west and also our northeast, I could faintly make out the snow-capped tips of two bens. I understood that Potter Manor must have been almost as far north as Hogwarts for there to be snow-capped bens in the vicinity in late June. All in all, it was a bit much to take in, even with the natural beauty of the Hogwarts region to which to compare it; this was Harry's ancestral family home, and that meant much more to him and even me, Sally, and mum than Hogwarts ever could.
"Wow," mum eventually managed to say. "Paul and I have always meant to come up here for an extended vacation. The Highlands are supposed to contain some of the most beautiful and primal landscapes in the world, and I think this proves it," she continued, spreading her arms wide and turning in a complete circle. I smiled at her look of girlish glee. "And to think, we've never actually come up here, even though it's basically right in our backyard."
"Any idea how far north we are?" I asked, looking at Harry. He was absorbing the sights and the singular sound of the ever-present wind along with the rest of us; my question, however, shook him from his amazed state of mind.
"Yes," he said, sounding mystified and amused. "As soon as I activated the Portkey, that information seems to have been implanted directly into my brain. The manor you see up ahead is situated at precisely 58.135664 degrees north, 4.627801 degrees west. It is on the west shore of Loch Shin, which is 17 miles long and drains into the North Sea by way of the River Shin," he continued pointing at the long loch to our right. "To the west, you can see Ben More Assynt; to the northeast, you can see Ben Klibreck. The A838 runs near here, along the eastern edge of Loch Shin. It seems as if my parents or grandparents used automobiles, because the dirt road we're standing on now connects to the A836 at the southern tip of Loch Shin, at the small town of Lairg. If you follow the A836 north, it runs into the 838 and that continues north up the loch and well beyond, eventually ending near the North Sea at the town of Tongue."
I greatly enjoyed the detailed information. When I tried to repeat some of it for clarification-namely, how close to the North Sea we actually were-I found that I could not. The information that Harry had shared was stored in my brain, but I could not speak it. It was a curious feeling, unlike anything I'd ever experienced.
"Harry…I can't repeat what you just said," I told him.
He sent me a questioning look, but then realization dawned upon his face. "That must be part of the protection Vinx was talking about. What did he call it-the Fidelius? Isn't that what the charm does? I seem to remember Flitwick muttering about it one day."
"Oh," I said, realizing he was right, of course. "When did you get so smart?" I asked, smiling.
"I'll have you know, Miss Granger, that I am number two in our year!" he exclaimed, in his best pompous voice.
"Yes, Hermione," Sally interjected. "I think he might give you a run for your money next year."
I was about to retort something along the lines that it would be impossible for Harry to do that, completely seriously, when I realized two things: Sally had been taking the mickey and I didn't really mind if Harry did. Maybe a little friendly competition could be a good thing. It would push us to be the best magical students we could be. I was already third in the world; maybe I could move up to first this coming year.
"Maybe," I eventually replied, giving her my best enigmatic smile. Her eyes twinkled as she laughed in response.
"Well, who wants to check out the Manor?" Harry asked, and was immediately assaulted with a unanimous affirmation. As we walked up the gently sloping lane toward the gigantic house, we rose slightly above the surrounding landscape. The Manor was situated on a little rise of five or ten meters, which meant that it was the highest point in the vicinity. With the exception of the two visible bens, the land opened out and gently down, creating the seeming effect of being at the top of the world. The big sky and the nearly treeless land were stark contrasts to my London home, where all you saw were buildings, roads, and homes. It was slightly desolate, but not in a melancholy way. The natural beauty of the landscape overrode any feelings of isolation.
The Manor was indeed three stories. The ground floor consisted of the following: a grand foyer with a large marble staircase to the upper floors; a large kitchen and dining area that was open to the bright sunshine; a comfortable but quite large living room; a truly massive library that had me drooling for its possibilities; and an office of sorts. Curiously enough, there were Muggle electronics here, though they were obviously outdated. Most appeared to be from the early 1980s. After returning to the foyer, we ascended the marble staircase, which split at the first floor; one half gently curved to the right and the other to the left, rising out of the sight to the second floor. The first floor was split into two wings; the right (east) side of the floor was the Master's compartments, with a truly lavish bedroom and bathroom, and several smaller apartments for members of the Head's family; the left (west) side of the house contained numerous apartments that were even smaller, though no less grand, which were most likely for guests of the family.
After returning to the east wing and staring longingly at the master bathroom, which was essentially a complete spa, for several minutes, we ascended to the second floor and were pleasantly surprised by what amounted to a truly massive loft, extending the entire length and breadth of the house. There were many skylights and large glass doors, which all led to balconies, creating an open-air effect that was sublime. One corner of the expansive space held a comfortable lounge, with squashy chairs and what looked like a bar and a small kitchenette. I turned in a circle, taking in the rest of the huge space: there was some gym equipment off in another corner, and another small library opposite it. The rest of the area, the great majority of it, was wide open, with nothing except plush carpeting and heaps of sunlight.
"My word, Harry," mum said. "This place is something else."
"A girl could get used to this," Sally said, lightly. She then lay down in a fall of sunlight from a skylight; her light brown hair reflected the warm light gloriously.
"I don't see a reason why you girls can't get used to this," Harry said. Both Sally and I looked at him. "Do you see the size of this place? I don't need this all to myself-that would be ridiculous. I would probably get lost in here and never be found again."
"What are you suggesting?" I asked, wondering where his thoughts were leading him.
"Let's a try a little experiment first," he said, and drew his wand. "Hold out your hand, Hermione," he said. I did as I was told, curious as to what he was planning. He touched the tip of his wand to a ring I wore on the middle finger of my right hand. It was just some cheap trinket that I'd had for several years.
"Portus," he incanted, and the ring glowed blue for a second. "Portus," he said again, and the blue glow briefly reappeared. "Ok, the activation word for you to go back to your living room is Flamel. And the word to come back here is Fluffy."
"Can you do that? Make round-trip Portkeys?" Sally asked, sitting up now and staring at the proceedings.
"I guess we'll find out," Harry said, shrugging. "If you don't reappear here in two minutes, we'll all Portkey back to your house."
"Ok," I replied. I looked at mum. "See you in a minute," I told her. "Flamel." My world tilted and blurred, inducing a short bout of vertigo; everything then cleared and I was standing in my living room in West London.
"Merlin, I love magic," I breathed. "Fluffy." The process repeated itself and I was back at the Manor."
Harry clapped his hands excitedly. "It worked!" he said. "Any problems?"
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Ok, then please try it again," he said.
"How come?"
"I want to make sure that the Portkeys I create are good for more than one use. It would be rather obnoxious if I had to do that every time someone wanted to come or go from the Manor."
"True," I said, nodding. I activated the Portkey and once again found myself back at home. Five seconds later, I was standing in the second-floor loft of Potter Manor.
"That is dead useful," mum said, smiling at the proceedings. "Your father would absolutely love this. He would think it's like Star Trek."
"Beam me up, Scotty," Harry said, and we all laughed. After repeating the process of creating the round-trip Portkey out of mum's necklace, Sally's bracelet, and his own Head of House ring, we all returned to my house in London.
Mum sat us all down in the living room. "Now Harry, I think we all agree that the Manor is a much better place to live than at your relativess. Safer even. And I also realize that as an emancipated Lord I have no authority over you, but I do think you are a bit too young to be living all by yourself in that huge Manor. Not only will it get lonely, but you still need to provide for yourself-things like food and common household supplies…" She trailed off when Harry looked like he wanted to say something.
"I know what you're saying, Mrs. Granger, and I mostly agree with you. I have been cooking most of my life, though, and I have absolutely no problem making myself meals. In fact, I will eat infinitely better making my own meals than I ever did at the Dursleys."
For a moment it looked like she wasn't going to believe Harry about his purported culinary skills, but then she must have remembered this was Harry Potter. He was an amazing boy with a truly ludicrous amount of money; if he could actually cook for himself, he would have no problem affording five-star meals three times a day.
"And as for living alone, I hope that doesn't happen. I made those round-trip Portkeys for you with good reason. You can visit any time you want, and I really do mean that. They take you to that loft, so it's not as if you would walk in on me showering or something," he cracked, smiling. I laughed out loud at the image of someone Portkeying into a shower.
"Harry?" Sally asked. "Do you think you could recreate the home destination for mine? While I love you, Hermione, I don't think I need to be appearing in the middle of your living room. How about the foyer of my house, which you saw at Christmas?"
Harry nodded and did as asked. "I want to provide Portkeys to your dad, Hermione; and to your parents, Sally; also, to Ron and his parents…and I suppose the rest of his family, too; finally, to Neville and his Gran."
"You don't mind so many people having access to your new house?" mum asked. She seemed concerned that it would be an invasion of privacy.
Harry shrugged. "Mrs. Granger, I've never enjoyed the luxury of having friends over to my house. Now that I have the opportunity, I mean to use it. I was not joking when I said you can pop in whenever you want. My home is open to my friends-" he cut himself off. "It feels so good to say my home," he said, quietly. There was a beautiful and genuine smile on his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
After another few minutes of conversation, we drove Sally back to her house. Her parents both worked from home, so Harry was able to explain everything to them. After a quick trip to the beautiful Manor, they were sold, so he created Portkeys for them as well. When we left, I saw stars in their eyes; I pointed it out to Harry, and he just shook his head. Sally had promised that she would be visiting as soon as possible, so we left with the knowledge that we would be seeing our friend very soon. Mum then brought us to the market to pick up supplies for Harry, including food and other common goods; that led to a conversation about the Muggle appliances (including a refrigerator) that had seemed to be in working condition. The odd thing was there were no utility poles anywhere near the Manor, so we could not fathom how the house was electrified. Harry shrugged it off and said we would eventually find out. For now, as long as the essential things were working, it did not matter.
We returned to my house, gather Harry's things, and Portkeyed to the Manor. After helping Harry put everything away, mum convinced Harry to have dinner with us at our house, which would give us all a chance to explain everything to dad. He acquiesced with a promise that we would all return here after dinner for an evening of relaxation and exploration.
Just before we went back to my house, a sudden fear of mine was allayed when we tested the Portkeys to ensure no unauthorized users could come to the Manor. Harry's magic apparently keyed the Portkey to a specific user, because I could not use mum's Portkey and she could not use mine. Harry, however, could use both of them. We landed back in my living room with a new peace of mind.
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Just after 9:30 that night, I was sitting on the west-facing second floor balcony with Harry, mum, and dad. The familiar Highland chill had crept into the late evening-familiar because of our time at Hogwarts-so my parents and I had popped back to our house about an hour before to put on some warmer clothes. I was currently wearing jeans and a comfortable hooded sweatshirt; Harry was looking resplendent in a new pair of jeans and a new sweater we had purchased the previous day at Harrods.
The amazing thing about this moment was that sunset was still approximately forty minutes away, whereas in London it had already set. Because the land was flatter here than at Hogwarts, we did not lose the sun earlier than actual sunset, so we were enjoying our first true northern evening. Conversation had wound up and down through the course of the night; dinner had been a hearty affair back at my house and, after making a Portkey for dad, we had all returned to the Manor. We had first taken an extended tour of the grounds, moving from the shores of the loch back up to the Manor and on past into the wild heath beyond. It was invigorating, almost surreal, to be surrounded by so much untouched natural splendor. The Manor, due to its size, could have been a blight on the landscape, but the colors were just right and for some reason it seemed to actually add to our surroundings, rather than detract.
We had returned to the Manor from the wide heath as the chill of evening had begun to settle over us, exploring for the next half hour the grandiose home in some detail. Whereas before we had just taken a cursory glance at most of the rooms, now we actually walked through them and inspected them with dad. The library still set my heart racing for the pure volume of knowledge that must be contained on those endless shelves, and I knew that I would be completing my summer homework there. Our exploration had eventually led us to the second-floor loft and the west-facing balcony, where we now sat in our warmer clothes.
"Harry, I must say, you are handling this extremely well," dad said. Harry continued to stare toward the west, where the lowering sun was now adjacent to the top of Ben More Assynt. The colorful heath was alive with the burning hues of sunset.
"I suppose I couldn't really handle it any other way?" Harry asked, rhetorically. He looked at each of us in turn. "As Hermione so adequately explained to me, my family has a long and storied history-to me, it means everything that I now have is from that family, and I mean to live up to the legacy. I've been given these wonderful gifts-wealth, property, a title-and I do not want to waste them.
"I told you once that I meant to make the most of the opportunity Hogwarts had afforded me, and I mean to do the same with all of this." He swept a hand over the vista before us. "And I want all of my friends and their families to use and enjoy this with me. After all, what is wealth and property if all you have is yourself?"
I reached for Harry's hand and held it, moved by his measured and thoughtful words. This boy-no, this young man in a boy's body-was growing on me in ways I did not know how to properly express. He was my best friend and he had been absolutely wonderful during the past several days, involving me in everything.
Mum and dad were silent for a few minutes after that, thinking about what Harry had said, but soon enough conversation had moved to lighter fare. We sat and talked until the sun had finally slipped below the horizon around 10:20. And so as twilight settled over the Highlands and Potter Manor, mum and dad took their leave, Portkeying back to our home after I promised I would not tarry long.
"You've been great, Hermione," Harry said, after the departure of my parents. "Thank you for everything and for understanding."
"As you said earlier, could I react any other way?" I wondered, moving my chair closer to Harry's and leaning into his side. I wanted the warmth from his body, but I also just wanted to be near him. He leaned back into me, slipping an arm around my back.
"You could have been jealous. You could have been freaked out by my anger at Dumbledore. You could have hated me for making you think your parents might pull you out of Hogwarts…" he trailed off as I placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. We were now looking into each other's eyes.
"But you know me, Harry. You know I would never do anything like that. We're best friends. We support each other in everything." He stared into my eyes for another moment, nodded in confirmation, and then leaned forward into an embrace. We stayed like that for at least another minute or two before breaking apart. The yellow in the west was fading to a bronzed orange.
"I should probably head home," I said, thinking about Harry alone in his house all night. Some part of me knew that he would be just fine, even though my rational brain was telling me I would be lonely. Harry had a lot to think about from the last two days.
He nodded. "Yes, it's been a long day. Thank you again," he said.
"Of course," I replied, and then leaned forward. Before I could second-guess myself, I had pecked him on the cheek. He absently raised a hand to his face and gave me a curious smile. I stuck my tongue out at him and whispered Flamel, watching those green eyes disappear as my Portkey whisked me away from Potter Manor.
I was floating on air as I readied myself for bed that night.
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