Tuesday 20th December 1988.
Harry was angry as he paced his bedroom. As soon as they had returned, the portraits had started in on them. But it was not for himself that he felt the anger. He was so angry at them for yelling at Nemea. She was only trying to be helpful.
Fine, he understood their anger. Someone outside the family now had knowledge of his existence as the swirling magic of the choosing had broken down his glamour until it had fallen completely. Pops had made sure to remind Harry of that fact when they landed.
But it wasn't Nemea's fault any more than it was his own. And it certainly wasn't Hermione's. His being grounded again was no big problem. It had happened before, and he didn't let it bother him anymore. But they had grounded her too. Where did they get off…?
Harry froze mid-stride.
Panic grew in his stomach. He could feel a foreign magic pulling on him. In a way that he had never felt before, yet something about the feeling turned his blood cold.
"Harry? What is wrong?" He heard from nearby, but he was too busy resisting the feeling to focus on the voice.
It was a few moments after the feeling subsided before his pulse settled and turned to the painting opposite his bed. His great-great-aunt looking out at him from the seat within. The assigned watcher to ensure he didn't escape his punishment.
"Can you please get mum and dad, Rosaline?" He asked meekly.
She looked at him closely and her face paled. She nodded before running from the painting.
Harry understood. He must look frightful. Every part of him was chilled by the feeling that had pulled at him. Something called at his magic in a very demanding way.
"Harry?" His eyes shot up at his mother's voice. He rushed forward but stopped short when he remembered the height of the painting on the wall.
A snap of his fingers had his dresser sidle over under the frame and he quickly climbed the drawers until he was level with the large picture. Silently, he leant forward until he was pressed against the canvas, his cheek resting on the cool surface of his mother's chest. It was the first time he had tried to hug her in years.
She would always get a kiss goodbye when he went to school, and the odd touch when he was feeling particularly emotional. But if he needed a hug, he went to Mipsy or Hermione.
And this sudden change in behaviour was clearly affecting her as well.
"Harry, what happened?"
"I don't know, mum. I'm scared."
When he finally pulled away there were tears flowing down his face.
"Mipsy," the elf appeared momentarily and looked up at the painting and her master standing on his dresser. "Please take Hermione to the library, right now."
Mipsy bowed and popped away again. "You too, Harry. I'll meet you there in a moment."
Her hand caressed the inside of the canvas and Harry pressed his own against it before giving her a forced smile and popping away as well.
ϟ
Hermione was puzzled. She was being punished, somewhat unfairly she thought, for the trip to Ollivanders. Same as Harry and Nemea.
She thought the whole thing had been blown out of proportion, but the portraits had been adamant. They had done something truly bad and she still wasn't entirely sure why it mattered so much.
And yet, instead of being closed in her room and watched over by some distant member of Harry's family as she had been since they returned the day before, she was again standing in the library arms wrapped around her crying best friend as his parents watched on helplessly.
"What is wrong, Harry? Talk to me, please."
"Magic…" Was his mumbled reply as he shook in her arms.
"What about magic?"
Harry sniffed twice before taking several deep breaths. "Something… no, someone pulled on my magic. I've never felt anything like it before but it didn't feel good. I could feel their glee in the magic. What's happening?"
This question was directed upwards at the painting that had filled with every member of the family that could fit. Every Potter ancestor going back over a thousand years watched as the future of their line sat sobbing and frightened. Hermione watched as Lily and James had an inaudible conversation in the front of the frame.
"We think," his father began, "it was Dumbledore. He has known Ollivander for a long time. The wandmaker probably sent him a letter. The timing would fit. An owl would take about that long to go from Diagon Alley to Hogwarts."
"According to the goblins," Dorea continued, "he has been trying to open and access the Estate for years, but for the life of us, we cannot figure out why. Money and power he already has in spades. And while the Potter fortune is substantial, he hardly needs it. The papers would surely have mentioned if Albus was in some sort of trouble, and he'd likely have run out of options long before now, given he's been trying this since you first arrived here, Harry."
"But why is he trying to find me?" Harry mumbled.
"We don't know for sure. We've been looking into this for a while now. Trust us, sweetheart. He will not find you." Lily soothed.
Hermione rubbed his back gently as they snuggled together on the chair that was quickly becoming far too small for the both of them, but right now forced a closeness that Harry sorely needed. Hermione felt terrible for her friend. This had been his life since he was fifteen months old.
She thought briefly about the trouble she was currently having with her own parents and the thought of never being able to hug them again sent a shudder through her entire body. That set her resolve. Now, they would make sure Harry was safe, but once that was done, she would fix things with her parents.
"Harry," the children's attention was once more drawn to the painting looming over them. This time it was his grandfather speaking to them, resting down on one knee to be closer to their faces. "This may seem harsh right now, but I have to ask. Do you understand better now? Why we have kept you so secluded all these years? Why your mother was so scared when you brought Hermione here with no warning?"
Harry nodded, unable to meet his grandfather's eyes.
"Do you trust me, Harry?" Charlus asked.
Harry nodded again, this time glancing up momentarily at the elder man. "Yes."
Charlus smiled back. "Then trust me when I say no one can get to you here. I spent decades investigating and researching the wards on this home, before and after your father was born. Even after all that time, I don't fully understand them, but I know that no one who is not wanted here by the master of the house can get in. Nor can they remain in these halls against their wishes."
Harry's mother blushed in place, looking strangely guilty as his father hugged her tightly. But Harry's grandfather didn't seem to notice and simply continued.
"As I've told you before, this location does not truly exist in the world at large, so even the most powerful scrying attempts will fail. I cannot imagine what it feels like to have your magic pulled on like that, but so long as you remain within these walls, you are safe."
Hermione squeezed Harry tightly as Charlus soothed him. Some of what the man had said had set thoughts whirling in her mind, but now wasn't the time to address them. "What are we going to do?"
"We, dear?" Rosaline asked.
"Harry is my best friend. I'm going to do whatever I can to help keep him safe." Hermione was resolute in her decision. Harry would do the same for her.
Grins spread through the painting at her impassioned words, but she ignored them, focused more on Harry than the others right now.
"Pops," James called softly.
The elf did not pop into being as had become the norm in the large manor, instead stepping around the shelves near the large family painting.
"Yes, master?"
Hermione realised that Pops and Mipsy, who was now peeking around the shelves herself, had been listening to the whole conversation.
"Go back to Gringotts today. We need solutions and we cannot wait for Tybalt to return. I hereby authorise you to disclose what you need to Farkor and any necessary superior to get the information. If they're still as good as they used to be, they probably already know Harry is alive. It's probably why they've been giving Dumbledore such a hard time for so long. Do you understand this command?"
"I am to visit the goblins and not leave until we have a way to protect the young master from the meddlesome one. If I must, I can reveal the identity of the young master in order to gain their cooperation. My dealings with Farkor have shown him to be an honourable individual, but I believe we may indeed need higher assistance for this."
"I trust your judgement, old friend. Do what you think is necessary. Also, see if the goblins can prepare two portkeys for us that will transport the wielder to their catacombs if they should be rendered unconscious. Or somewhere else we can set ourselves. One for each child. I know you can pop anywhere but if someone should get the drop on you, this will keep you safe. But Harry does not leave this building unless it is absolutely necessary for the process." The aged elf nodded and popped away. "Mipsy, you are to stick to Harry like glue. Unless he is on the toilet, you are by his side at all times. You too, Nemea. I know I'm not your master, but please, stick close to Hermione. Keep her safe."
Nemea bowed to the painting. "Nemea will keep her mistress safe, Mister James sir."
"So, am I still grounded?" Harry's soft voice cut through the air of the room which had become very heavy.
The adults smiled at him and Lily spoke up. "You are both to remain on the grounds. You can go outside, but for now, no popping anywhere. If you need something, one of the elves will get it for you. We'll deal with the grounding later."
"Is that really wise, Lily?" Dorea asked her daughter-in-law.
"We don't know how long all of this might take. Do you really think we can keep them locked up separately in their rooms forever? A little freedom freely given should keep them from exercising the desire for it on their own. But they will be careful and stay on the grounds. I'd personally rather you never left this room so I could keep both eyes well-trained on the two of you."
Hermione felt Harry tuck in tightly next to her and she felt his breathing steady and eventually realised he had fallen asleep. While not tired herself, she could only imagine how much the past hour or two had affected her friend. Holding him close, she let her mind wander but kept one part of it constantly fixed on the steady breathing of the boy in her arms.
ϟ
Wednesday 21st December 1988.
Pops sat stiffly on the chair he had been assigned to wait in. It had been the better part of twelve hours since he arrived at the bank and the young goblin he had been dealing with for years had listened intently to the tale he'd told. He had indeed confirmed that he needed to go higher up the chain but swore not to let word slip outside of that chain, before disappearing out the door.
It had been hours since he had last seen the young goblin whisk back into the room with the partially prepared portkeys. They had taken most of the morning to prepare and still needed the destination set in order to function properly, but he had summoned Nemea to take them back to the Manor.
He still had more to arrange before his own return. And while he projected an air of calm after years of serving as the Potters' head elf, inside he was extremely concerned.
He knew the stories of the 'Great and Powerful Albus Dumbledore'. The man was heralded as the most powerful wizard in the modern world, despite being a relic of the previous one, much like himself.
Pops was very well trained after his many years of service, but he still found the exuberance of the younger elves to be frivolous and concerning. Mipsy's incident all those years ago with young Harry would never have happened under his own watch over the boy. And while it had worked out in the end, the fact that it became a problem to begin with worried him.
He was getting too old for this. He could feel the years in his bones and knew that soon he would have to select a new elf to train and take his place for good. But he had reservations about all the young ones.
Mipsy was far too closely tied to young Harry. She would always allow his wishes and needs to come before the household. He could already see the conflict inside her every time that Master James gave her an order that went counter to young Harry's will. Whether the boy voiced it or not. However, she would be utterly loyal to that boy until her dying day, or his. After all, when properly treated and loved, his species tended to outlast even the long lives of the wizards.
Tybalt was more reserved than Mipsy. But he had a mischievous streak that Master James had always encouraged. While he did not have the direct link that his sister did to young Harry, he was invested in the boy. A true head elf must follow only the orders of the head of the house, and work for the betterment of the house. In the past, this had often led to head elves clashing with the younger members of houses as they attempted to do things that would lead to the ruin of their house.
The elfin were all much more suited at the moment as they were pretty much a blank slate until bonded. He could mould one of them into a proper successor, but such a task would take many years to come. Years he may not have if Dumbledore got his way.
His thoughts were broken by the large stone door swinging inwards. But this time it was not young Farkor who entered, but an armoured goblin warrior guard. Several in fact. Followed by a much older member of their race. While Pops had never studied the intricacies of the goblins as some of the elves had, even his limited knowledge informed him that the older goblin was someone of great importance.
"Apologies for the delay, my friend. We've been quite busy here in the Under. You've brought us a fascinating puzzle." The goblin quickly sat across the stone table from him, and Pops returned to his own seat, nodding in the direction of his newest companion.
"Yes. Quite the conundrum. However, should we discuss such things around your guards? It's not that I don't trust them, but… well I don't."
Pops watched the elder goblin pitch his head back and give a hearty if gravelled laugh. "Quite. Fear not, my friend. These are my personal guard, raised from the nest to serve me. They are completely illiterate so cannot write and have no tongue with which to speak your secrets. Does that quiet your fears?"
Pops gave the guards one last glance before nodding.
"Good. You are remarkably well-informed and verbose for an elf, so I can assume you are both well-trained and well-kept by your masters. So if you agree, I would dispense with the game we have been playing for the past seven years and speak plainly between friends. Yes?"
Pops gave a gentle nod once more and the goblin smirked at the silent response.
"Very good. Let's start at the beginning then, shall we? Harry James Potter is alive and well, living under your care at Potter Manor and has been since November 1981."
Only a lifetime of keeping his family's secrets allowed Pops to keep the suddenness of the statement from shaking his calm. Master James had theorised that the goblins were aware of this fact, but they were dead on the money. He gave a soft chuckle to himself as he considered that when it came to money, goblins usually were onto it.
"Yes."
"Come now." The goblin said with a toothy smirk. "I'm being honest and open with you, shall you not return me the same courtesy? Your wee lad was spotted by three individuals on Diagon Alley yesterday during a visit with Garrick Ollivander."
Pops shifted a little in his seat, still embarrassed that Nemea had taken them all by surprise. At first, he had thought Harry or the girl had instructed the elf to take them. But it quickly became clear that Hermione's new elf was simply trying to show her initiative. In any other situation, he might have been proud of her. But now they were busy trying to repair the damage done after so many years of being careful.
At least Harry had bonded with Mipsy, who already knew the stakes. But Nemea was fresh and new. She still had much to learn and thus was eager to prove her worth.
"By a pair of witches who had been a few years senior to the child's parents and recognized a very 'Potter hairstyle' on the lad inside the oddly locked shop as they passed on their way to the Leaky Cauldron." The goblin continued, musing to himself for a moment. "Leaky in every sense. No secret whispered in that establishment has ever remained so for long after. And by a Recovery Agent of our own who had been retrieving something Garrick borrowed a long time ago and never returned."
The elderly goblin leaned back in his chair and surveyed Pops closely. Clearly trying to discern further information from his reactions as he continued once again.
"An odd occurrence, wouldn't you say, for a dead child to need a wand at what would have been only 8 years of age. Things like that have a habit of spreading, though the absurdity of this rumour has kept it quiet for now. But we both know of the long relationship shared between the wandmaker and," the goblin stopped and let out a distinct growl between clenched teeth, "Albus Dumbledore."
Pops couldn't help but smile at this. Clearly, whoever this particular goblin was, he'd had dealings with the old man in the past and they had not ended favourably.
"Before I can confirm anything, I would know your name. I do prefer to do my business properly." Pops offered.
The goblin returned the smile. An action that unsettled most humans due to the sheer number and sharpness of teeth on display But that the elves had long since grown accustomed to.
"That seems fair, Pops. I am Ragnok, the current head of Gringotts Bank and Gragnar of the Under of London."
This again surprised Pops, but he kept that surprise from showing. "An impressive position to hold. Two of them in fact. I take it then that Farkor has been reporting everything to you directly for the past few years?"
"Indeed, it was at my instruction that the lad contacted you in the first place. Buhgor was old and looking ready to train up a successor. I simply took the choice away from him. The lad has done as well as can be expected without direct access to the account holder, I think you will agree?"
"I do, and my master has been pleased so far with your discretion. He was certain that you were aware of at least some of the facts. Harry is indeed alive and well. Healthy and hearty and every bit his parents' child. In good ways, and a few of the bad. He has his mother's love of books and knowledge and a near-perfect memory with which to recall it. But he has recently shown his inheritance of his father's sense of humour and flair for dramatics. It caused some small problems."
"I take it this trip to Ollivanders was one such event?"
Pops sighed at this.
"Harry has a," he hesitated here. While James was his master and Harry's father, he had no right to out Hermione to the goblins, "close friend. They recently bonded with an elfin and the elfin wanted to prove themselves. When talk of wands and Ollivanders came up, they took the initiative."
"I see. So no preparations were made in advance. And now Dumbledore knows of Harry's survival. There is no way that Garrick's eyes have degraded that far yet that he'd not immediately recognize the son of a Potter."
"Hence the need for speed and results. I have orders not to return without them."
Ragnok eyed him carefully a moment before smiling once more. "You're a cagey one. I've not had such a fun conversation in a long time, Pops. You can keep some of your secrets for now. As I'm sure you know, we've been aware of the general situation for some time.
"Since you came to us last year, we've had our most trustworthy scholars scouring our records. While we had no luck finding a way to free Black from his confinement," Ragnok's tone once more showed the Goblin Nation's collective disgust at a prison run by Dementors. "We did note several methods one might use to prevent interference with the boy from the outside."
Pops straightened in his chair. He didn't want to be overly hopeful, but the young master was in danger unless one of these proved useful.
"Unfortunately, most of them can be overturned by the right vote from certain Ministry departments. And that lot will vote for anything that gives them more wealth and power."
Pops slunk downwards in his seat once more.
"As the boy lives with you I am assuming that he currently has no one that could come forward and rightfully claim legal guardianship?" Ragnok queried and Pops nodded in reply. "Then the most secure method would be emancipation. Anything short of that without an active and approved guardian could be challenged or overturned.
"Or worse, the Ministry could assign a guardian of their own. With the way that lot change their mind at the sight of a galleon, that would be impossible to control in your favour. And their listed methods for emancipation almost exclusively require the consent of the Ministry, or their approval afterwards, for the status to stick."
"Meaning we're back at square one with nothing?" Pops was feeling decidedly unhappy. He was failing in his duty.
"Not entirely," Ragnok stated, matter-of-factly. "We just need to use a method that ensures that magic itself acknowledges the emancipation. Once that happens, no amount of laws or shouting can change things. But the methods that get recognized by magic tend to be lasting. And potentially dangerous."
"And how many of these other methods would be safe to be undertaken by a child of eight?"
Ragnok smirked broadly as the pair leant forward over their shared table.
ϟ
"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked, holding the odd round stone in his hand. The length of a fine silvery chain threaded through it would hold it about his neck, ensuring skin contact at all times. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Harry, I trust you," Hermione encouraged, standing in front of him holding a similar stone of her own. "And your parents seem certain that it will work. You have more practice than me, and the elves' magic won't work properly for this. Not in conjunction with the goblins."
Harry took a deep calming breath before clenching his fingers around the stone, the chain slipping between his fingers and dangling beneath, the soft swaying of the material helping to clear his mind and help him focus his roiling magic. It had not stopped reacting that way since he first felt the probe tugging on it the night before.
"Focus, Harry," Hermione whispered, seemingly closer and yet further away. "Calm."
Several breaths followed, and Harry channelled the calming energy into his surging magic, slowly calming it until it felt more like an eager puppy than a violent ocean. It was ready to do his bidding.
"I think I'm ready."
"Good, sweetie," his mother's voice washed over him, "now focus your mind on home, and push that thought into the stone. The portkey magic is already there, you are just setting the destination."
He followed the instructions and felt the feeling of being at home well up inside of him. The comfortable warmth that he only felt in one other place on earth. A small smile split his lips as he focused tighter on the feeling and on letting his magic touch it. He had been practising small tasks like this with his tutors for several months now, and while he'd had middling success, this was the most important task he had ever attempted.
He felt the eager magic pool up and swirl around the thought, intertwining deeply together until they were one and the same. Now his magic had a feeling of home in its depth, he guided the warm glow down his arms and willed it into the cool stone between his fingers.
Harry could feel the energy pass from himself and into the stone, felt it warm as it took on the same feeling of home that he'd summoned in his mind, but there was something else in the stone too. Something that was fighting his magic for supremacy. It felt truly alien to him.
"There's something else in the stone." He whispered, afraid to speak normally for fear of breaking the spell he was channelling.
"That will be the goblin magic, Harry," James advised. "Don't fight it, that is what will make the portkey work. And keep anyone but you from being transported."
Harry focused on merging the two feelings together. But the wilder magic in the stone didn't seem to want to follow his instruction.
"Harry," Hermione's voice was so low he doubted anyone but he could hear it, "remember how it felt when you shared magic with Mipsy?" He nodded. "Good, focus on that too. Don't lose the other sensations, just try to remember it and feel that while you do. The two of you merged two vastly different forms of magic that day. You can do it again. I know you can."
Harry called up the memory of that day, trying his best to sift out the emotions that had been coursing through him and focus only on how it felt to share magic back and forth with Mipsy. The way the two had fought and raged against one another at first before his magic had soothed the wilder magic and allowed the two to merge together. It felt exactly like what was happening with the stone, and that realisation allowed him to adjust his approach.
With a loud snap that startled everyone who had been watching in the nearly silent room, the stone glowed a vibrant green and hummed for a moment as the magics merged and settled together into its featureless black surface.
"Wow." Harry grinned as he looked up at his family. He could feel the approval beaming at him from his friend beside him. "That was cool."
"Very well done, my boy." Charlus congratulated him. "Your control is growing nicely. I think you and Hermione need to find some time to talk so that you can share your secrets with her. I have little doubt she'll pick things up just as snappily as yourself."
Harry turned to his friend to see her blushing under the praise being heaped on them both.
"Faster, I'll bet." He added, earning a gentle nudge from the blushing girl.
"Put it on, Harry. It will self-clean, and you can move it easily enough so it won't get in your way of cleaning either. You are not to take it off unless we tell you otherwise." Dorea instructed him.
"Yes, grandma." He replied, slipping the silvery chain over his head and marvelling at the soft almost fabric feel of the pliable metal. He was eager to learn more about it.
"Now do you want to try, Hermione?"
"I'm not ready yet…" The girl responded, looking worried.
Harry reached out and slipped his hand into her own, giving it a squeeze and drawing her eye. "I believe in you. Your advice helped me the most. Follow it and you'll be fine. Trust me."
He gave her the lopsided grin he usually reserved for when he was being cheeky and she gave a short burst of laughter.
"I do trust you, except whenever you are wearing that grin."
The family laughed and Lily prodded her husband. Harry knew she blamed James for his naughtier habits as she called them.
"Give it a try." He encouraged her again. "It only costs money, we can always get another one."
Hermione opened the hand Harry was not holding and looked at the small white stone. Harry watched her face as she stared at it before she closed her eyes and her fist about the small item. He did not let go of her hand, wanting her to feel his support tangibly.
"Like we've practised. Calm your mind and look deep inside. You know how to find your magic." Harry whispered, not needing to be loud with how close they were standing. "Feel it inside you, and around you all at once. Let it wash through you. Wrap yourself in it."
He could feel the energy as it moved through her, the hairs on his arms standing on end from the sheer amount surging about her body.
"Remember how it felt holding your wand for the first time, and how it felt to share with Nemea. Let your magic take that form and bathe in it." He felt the change as Hermione followed his words. "Now without letting that go, focus on how it feels to be here, in the Manor. The feeling of running your fingers over the spine of the next book you plan to read as you pull it from the shelf. The sound of the wind whistling through the trees around the clearing. How standing here now makes you feel."
Harry noticed a smile growing on her face as her magic swirled out further and further from her body, fanning her hair and spreading outwards, buffeting his own clothes.
"Let all those feelings mix into the magic, like mixing water into sand, and then pour it down your arm and into the stone. It will fight a bit but focus on Nemea and it will change."
Harry felt the hairs on his arm pulse as tiny bursts of magic leapt between them, like tiny static charges. Hermione was pushing her magic down both arms it seemed, and he was in awe of how it felt as it tingled through his fingers.
"That's it, Hermione. Focus, but let it do the work. Relax and follow it along."
A second loud snap filled the air again and the pair jumped out of the insular little world they had been in and looked at the green glow sinking into the white stone.
"You did it!" Harry shouted, breaking her concentration as he wrapped her in a tight hug. "See, even smarter than me. You'll be outpacing me in no time."
Hermione grinned and placed the odd necklace over her head and flicked her hair back over the chain. Harry could see tiny sparks of residual magic echoing through the strands as they settled down over her back.
"That felt so cool." She said, squeezing Harry's hand before stepping over to the chair.
"The same goes for you, never take it off. If either of you are knocked unconscious, be it magically or otherwise, you will be brought straight here." Lily instructed.
"I think that might be enough excitement for tonight. How about we head to bed?" Dorea offered, seeing the tired looks on the children's faces after forcibly expending so much magic.
As if on cue, Harry felt a deep yawn break free of his body noisily.
Dorea looked at him knowingly and he nodded, grabbing Hermione's hand and skipping from the room, heading to wash up and tuck himself into bed, where he was sure he'd have a much better night's sleep than the one before.