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Chapter 6 - May You Live in Interesting Times.

"My Lady Ravenclaw," Harry bowed.

"My Lord Slytherin," she responded with a curtsey, and then smiled at his gob-smacked expression.

"By right of conquest, milord," Myrtle explained, "Tom Riddle was the last living heir of Slytherin; you've defeated him thrice since coming to Hogwarts. It is safe to say that the lordship has been properly won by the old laws."

"I don't know anything about being a lord, what constitutes a lordship, anyway?"

"Any number of vassals or retainers, men and women who will pledge their families and fortunes to yours."

"Who would want to do that?"

Myrtle snickered, "If I start the list now I may be able to finish it before the end of term.

"You will have retainers - sounds so much better than vassals, don't you think?"

"What are my obligations as such?"

The Grey Lady and Myrtle shared alook and smiled at Harry.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Miss Malone told me that you would focus more on the responsibilities of a lord, rather than the benefits."

"He's just that way," Myrtle said, clearly in awe of her lord.

"You must provide a home and an annual income for all your vassals - and you are the first Lord Slytherin in many generations who can afford to."

"What of Slytherin's fortune, his lands, his castle?"

Lady Grey gave out a very un-ladylike snort. "The last few generations squandered everything, sold off the lands, the castle, even the family heirlooms. You have inherited Lord Slytherin's title, but whatever property left to him is long gone."

She thought for a moment.

"There is that old cottage in Little Hangleton. . ."

"I have a cottage?"

"More of a shack, really."

"Hmmmm."

"What is it, Harry?" Myrtle asked.

"Well, it's just that I've been doing the repairs and maintenance on Number Four Privet Drive since I was old enough to hold a hammer. It might be nice to fix up a place of my own -there's got to be a DIY near Little Hangleton."

"What are my other duties, milady?"

"You have a hereditary seat in the House of Lords, as well as the Slytherin vote in the Wizengamot."

"Who's exercising that vote now?"Harry asked.

"Three families take it in rotation, milord. A triumvirate consisting of the scions of three houses: Greengrass, Parkinson, and Malfoy.

"Each scion serves for three years and then passes the vote to the next family in rotation."

"Hmmmmm," Harry pondered. "How old do I have to be to claim my seat?"

"As you are the only living Lord Potter you could have emancipated yourself three years ago and accepted your privileges and responsibilities then."

"I'm fifteen years old, milady. I know bollocks about politics."

"Ah but you'll have an advisor at your beck and call at all times."

"I will?"

"As you are the lord of my father's house I can go wherever you go."

"I don't know how many more surprises I can take today, milady. Your father was Salazar Slytherin?"

"Indeed, milord."

"And your mother was?"

"The Lady Rowena Ravenclaw, from whom I claim the title of Lady Ravenclaw in addition to the title of Lady Grey from the Earl of Grey."

"And the Earl was?"

"My husband, whom a jealous baron widowed when my father favored the Greys to the vassal house of Scoresby.

"The Bloody Baron, I presume?"

"Right in one, milord." The Grey Lady said, somewhat furtively.

Harry couldn't help but think there's more to it than she's telling me, but I won't push it.

"What should I do, milady?"

"First we'll need a floo - we can use the one in my old apartments. Follow me please."

Lady Grey's ghost let the way toward the Ravenclaw tower, but stopped at an alcove containing a suit of armor that was obviously intended for a rather buxom woman.

"Helga's armor." The Lady said by way of explanation.

Harry pondered the massive cones on the breastplate. "She was rather, um, endowed then?"

"And she was very popular with the lads. You must understand, Harry that the feminine ideal has changed dramatically over the years. Stout, curvaceous women were highly prized in the tenth century - and Helga was "much woman," a bit chubby by modern standards but she was serious wanking material for the young men of her day.

"Place your hand on the wall behind the armor and say "Wit beyond measure"."

He did, and the wall shimmered -the effect similar to that of the entrance to platform nine-and-three-quarters at King's Cross station. Figuring this wall would have similar properties Harry walked through and into a small but comfortable looking room.

Harry expected to see layers of dust on the furniture but was pleasantly surprised to see all the surfaces clean and polished.

Myrtle and Lady Grey entered behind Harry. The Lady sighed as she sat gracefully on the locker at the foot of the bed. "Cast an inflamare in the fireplace and say "Gringott's Founders Account Manager"."

Harry did and was answered by adour looking ancient goblin.

"Who invokes the Founder's Privilege?"

The Lady Grey interrupted, "the Lord Slytherin, by right of conquest - as you well know, you pestilent odiferous toad!"

Harry was shocked, but knew he had to trust her judgment on this.

"And does the Lord Slytherin accept the duties and responsibilities of his newly acquired title?"

Harry looked at his advisor who nodded.

"I do."

"Very well, Lord Slytherin. Your Potter trust vault is now confiscated. The list of claims against the Peerage of Slytherin is long and dear."

It is rare for a goblin to smile; when one does it's usually because some wizard has just been taken by the goblin's superior business treachery - ah, acumen. This was clearly one of those times.

The Grey Lady looked as though she expected this. "Very well Senex Goblin, with the understanding that this will absolve Lord Slytherin of any existing claims against his title and position."

The goblin looked at Harry.

"What she said." He said.

Whatever passed for a smile faded from the goblin and he said, "Agreed."

"My Lord Slytherin declares himself emancipated as he is the last of his blood line and the only true lord of the lineage of Slytherin."

She mouthed the traditional response for English-speaking mages, nodding to Harry so that he would invoke his emancipation. He caught on quickly.

"So mote it be." He said, and the Grey Lady smiled.

The goblin went pale. "What have you done, /bitch/?"

"I have done nothing, contemptible moneychanger. But you have absolved the mountain of debts and liens against the Peerage of Slytherin for a single pile of golden galleons. My Lord Slytherin, now also Lord Potter, can and will exercise his rights as an adult in the magical world and has full access to the Potter family vaults which contain, if I am not mistaken, more gold than you could count in one human lifetime."

The goblin screamed and closed the floo connection.

"My Lady Grey, I could kiss you!"Harry cried.

Myrtle carefully removed her locket and placed it over Lady Grey's head, temporarily giving up her corporeal existence to honor one of the matriarchs of her beloved Ravenclaw. A very soft and warm Lady Grey took Harry's face in her hands and kissed him.

He kissed back, tentatively at first but, at Myrtle's whispered urging, deepened the kiss, his tongue touching her teeth, asking to be let in.

The lady smiled and pulled back slightly.

"A bit of the Norman I see."

Harry smiled back, "We call it"frenching"."

His smile froze as she slipped afree hand down the front of his trousers to measure his growing erection. Surprise was followed by shock, followed by pure lust as the lady realized how well endowed this boy - no this young man was. When she finally broke the kiss she spoke in a voice thick with lust. "Well, my Lord Chevalier, perhaps later we can see what other skills you may have gleaned from the French."

Harry gulped but managed to croak out, "at my lady's pleasure."

She grinned saucily and said, "I know it shall be." Then Lady Grey removed the necklace and replaced it around Myrtle's neck. As she turned to leave Harry stopped her, saying, "Milady?"

"Milord?"

"What is your name?"

"I am The Lady Helena Slytherin-Ravenclaw-Grey, milord."

"And I am just Harry, to my friends, milady."

The Lady smiled, "How very modern of you mi- I mean, Harry. I think I should like to be called Helena."

"Good day to you, Harry."

"And to you, Helena."

As Harry and Myrtle walked, hand in hand, into the great hall all conversations stopped. The girl, pale but radiant in the manner than anyone who's ever been in love would recognize, looked hauntingly familiar, but no one could place her face - mostly because no one had ever seen Myrtle looking so happy.

McGonagall entered by way of the faculty entrance along with most of the Gryffindor girls as well as a healthy cross-section of ladies from all the other houses.

Harry sat with Myrtle, Hermione sat on his other side and the rest of the Gryffindor girls sat nearby. The girls from other houses sat at their own tables but every one, without exception, faced Harry and smiled that knowing little smile which, if any male could correctly interpret it, would cause said male to start running and not stop until he'd overtaken himself - twice!

"Merry meet, sister." Hermione said to Myrtle, and grinned.

"Merry meet indeed, sister. We have our accord?"

"We do."

"Blessed, blessed be!" Myrtle sang, clear and strong. The answering chorus of "Blessed be!" from twenty other witches echoed in the great hall.

The few wizards present at the time knew some kind of sorority had formed, but only one, Filius Flitwick, realized that a coven, the first in over a century, had formed in Hogwarts. Not only that, the sorcerer for whom it had convened was, for the moment, blissfully unaware of the fact.

"Oh, Mister Potter," he murmured,"you have some interesting times before you."

)O(

Astarte braced herself against the edge of the frame of the small convex mirror behind the headmaster's desk. She shuffled sideways and willed herself into the form of her old, familiar three dimensional body. As the last part of her popped out of the mirror its surface shimmered like so much quicksilver then settled down.

She floated down to the Dumbledore's desk and was surprised by the Brobdingnagian quills, parchments and ink bottles there. She realized that she'd erred leaving that particular mirror.

Concave mirrors distort size and the mirror she'd exited wasn't that large to begin with.

Astarte would have to wait to reenter the between-lands; taking on another dimension put tremendous strain on her magic. She flitted into the bathroom adjoining the headmaster's office to examine her reflection in the flat mirror above a porcelain sink.

She was small, perhaps ahand-span tall, but perfectly proportioned. Hair the color of golden honey cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She was curvaceous but showed little fat, only enough to give bounce to pert breasts and gift her derriere aperfect little upside down heart-shape.

Her face was pixyish, with large green eyes, a cute, upturned nose and red, pouty lips. The most distinguishing feature of Astarte's head was her horns. Similar to goat's horns they curved forward following the contour of her head looking like a well placed crown of reddish amber.

She turned around and smiled at her bat-like wings, honey-blonde, to match her hair. Astarte stretched both wings, leaped straight up from the headmaster's desk and hovered, her wings stroking the air much the same way a swimmer's arms tread water. She touched lightly down and allowed her wings to drape over her shoulders like a petite cloak.

Lastly she inspected her long, prehensile tail, which ended in a barb, its sting retracted for the moment.

Astarte fluttered to a high shelf to sit, cross legged, next to the old sorting hat.

"Hello, Flopsie, are you well?"

"As well as can be expected, Divine One."

"Won't you please call me"Astarte"?"

"I don't think so, Goddess."

"Fine, a favor then, wake me when the sun goes down, I need to do a bit of exploring."

"Of course, Divinity."

The tiny deity sighed and wrapped Flopsie's soft brim over her lower limbs and slept - it had been a tiring journey to this version of reality.