Categories > Books > Harry Potter > JEDI POTTER

Chapter 13

by Alorkin 10 reviews

A slow chapter. Harry and Dobby build a lightsaber, Harry has a birthday party, a discussion with Amelia and a few words with Scrimgeour, he has the Prophet rehire Rita and hides their homes. ...

Category: Harry Potter - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Crossover,Drama - Characters: Dobby,Harry,Hermione - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2010-06-21 - Updated: 2010-06-21 - 10370 words - Complete

30 July:

Just after breakfast, Harry called out: “Dobby!” Instantly the excitable elf, appeared. “Dobby is here!”

“Come on, Dobby, let’s go an build you a lightsaber!” Harry announced. Together they two walked down the steps to the workshop in what had been the forge room.

“We’re going to have to move this lot to the castle, before we…”

Before he could finish, a swarm of elves appeared and within seconds the room was completely bare.

“Oooh-Kaay!” He drawled. “I see we’ll have to go to the…”

Dobby grabbed his hand and immediately they were standing in the entrance hall of Potter Castle.

“Castle…you know, Dobby, you’re gonna have to stop doing that!” He chuckled.

Dobby smiled sheepishly. He’d learned to not punish himself for every perceived slight. Harry ruffled his head, since he didn’t have any hair. The little elf grinned in appreciation anyway.

They spent the next hour organizing the workbench, and making several duplicates so the students would have places to work when they were ready. When they was done, and everything was in readiness, Harry began to show Dobby the ins and outs of lightsaber construction. Since the standard one was nearly half Dobby’s size it would be ridiculous to make one for him. Instead, Harry had spent several hours designing grips for his friend.

Dobby chose one, which would be a little over half the length of Harry’s, but had several similarities, and together they began to form the shell. Harry had Dobby select some of the organic connectors, and bring them to the bench, in their nutrient solution.

While non-shielded electrical devices generally wouldn’t work in a magically imbued environment, a simple lathe would. All he needed was a way to turn the motor. Dobby solved the problem by cutting the wires, and charming the rotor to spin as fast as needed.

Each piece was made, under Harry’s watchful eye, from shell to counter-rotating magnetic field coils, to the high-pressure light source. Instructions and comments passed back and forth as the weapon took shape. Energy conduits were shaped and trimmed for optimum function, and the organic connectors were ‘encouraged’ to enter them and grow within. As each piece was created, it would be altered slightly to fit properly. The light pipe was less than one fifth it’s normal length, but as its only function was to transfer light energy from the high-pressure source to the focusing crystal, its length wasn’t critical.

Dobby carefully noted the creation and positioning of the beam initiators, high tension energy gate, exciter circuits, and their mounts, cycling field energizers, field stabilizing coils, beam length and power adjustment circuits and controls, support brackets as necessary, and finally, the beam status sensors and indicators. Each item had to be created by hand, from Harry’s induced knowledge. Fortunately many of the items were of a standard, and so, after he had made one, he and his crew could make as many as needed.

That would prove to be handy, as they would need quite a few.

By early that afternoon Dobby’s weapon was nearly complete. A close inspection, by each of them, for any defects or errors, and it was ready.

Harry handed a diatium power cell to his small friend who snapped it into place.

With a nod and a smile, to the nervous elf, Harry said: “Go on, then.” and Dobby thumbed the blade to life.

Scintillating energy flashed to life, with the usual snap-hiss, and settled into its buzzing hum.

Harry was more than pleased, but Dobby was completely over the moon. He shrieked in rapture as he blade shimmered from its grip. Like Harry’s blade, it was emerald, if a bit darker green than his. It was also about three quarters the length, due to Dobby’s stature, a longer blade would be more harm than help.

“OK, Dobby. Try swinging it.” Harry ordered. Dobby swished the blade from one side to the other. He frowned, and said: “Harry Potter sir! They is something wrong! It is not wanting to move!”

“Hold on.” Harry replied. “There’s going to be some gyroscopic resistance because of the magnetic fields interacting. Let me see it.”

Dobby turned the half-sized weapon to the side and handed it to Harry, then stepped back. Harry swung experimentally, nodding his satisfaction as it reacted exactly as it was supposed to.

“Nothing wrong with this blade, Dobby. A perfect effort!”

Dobby began to wail in sheer joy from his master’s praise.

After a quick lunch, Harry spent the afternoon instructing Dobby in the basics of handling a lightsaber. Dobby proved an excellent student, catching on to the steps and forms of Shii-Cho, more rapidly than Harry, himself had. By the end of the day, Dobby had learned a full twelve attack and defend positions, both dominant and weak handed, whereas Hermione had only grasped the first three. Harry himself had only managed…with the help of Yoda’s knowledge, to pick up five sets on his first day. Still each had made great progress.

Harry stopped by Neville’s home that evening, to wish him a happy birthday, and handed him an envelope. Inside, ornately printed on expensive vellum, was an IOU for a functional lightsaber, to be delivered as soon as the focusing crystal was complete.

For the rest of the night, Neville’s face was made entirely of smile.


The thirty first of July dawned bright and warm. Throughout the day it only got hotter. After a brief four-way discussion between Dobby, Winky, Tonks and Hermione, they decided to grill, out of doors. Dobby immediately volunteered to do the grilling. He’d been fascinated with Sirius’ purchase the year previous, and after the man had explained its use to him, he’d quickly become an expert in burning meat. Winky began to prepare the sides, complaining all the while about the unhealthy foods that kids were eating. Tonks almost died, trying to hold in her giggles, her face and hair seemingly destined for color-change overload. Hermione pulled her out of the room before they erupted in gales of laughter.

Over the next hour, Hermione had flooed all Harry’s close friends and invited them to celebrate his birthday at Potter Castle. The party wasn’t anything too ornate. It was just a gathering of friends.

He’d never liked his fame and simply wanted to be ‘Harry’. Here, with his friends, he could.

Hugging her friend good-bye, Tonks flooed to her flat, and from there, to Remus’ little cot to see how he was doing, as the full moon had been the night before, and since Dumbledore had no current need of him, he refused to have Snivellus provide the much needed Wolfsbane potion. As a result, his transformation had been particularly painful. Just now, he was sleeping it off.


The Weasley's attended, of course. Molly’s invitation informed her she was barred from the kitchen for the entire day. She could bluster and growl all she wanted, but she’d learn that none of the Potter elves would budge. She did, however, bring along a magnificent cake.

With each of the younger redheads gawking at the huge castle, in which they would be training for the next year, Molly wrapped him in her patented, ‘who-needs-a-chiropractor?’ hug, before whispering: “Thank you, Harry. If it weren’t for you, who knows how long that…man…would have held us in thrall?”

Harry replied, “Mrs. Weasley, you are my family.” Which left the older witch sobbing with joy.

Once again the elder Weasley's gathered him into a fierce embrace. When she released him, Molly noticed the betrothal ring Hermione wore, and just had to embarrass her by gushing over it.

Luna appeared, wearing a baby sling, with a sleeping Fawkes inside. When asked, about the Headmaster’s phoenix, she explained that Fawkes could no longer abide being bound to such a dark wizard, so he’d been brought to her for healing. Once he was better they’d find a way to shift the bond from Dumbledore to her. In the meantime, she had no problem carrying him around like a beloved child. The trilling purr coming from the sleeping phoenix seemed to add strength to her argument.

Harry and Dobby just smiled.

Harry decided to take the lot of them on a tour of the home for the next year. Each room they entered had a purpose. Harry showed them the library and the small study rooms nearby. Down to the right of the entry hall, what was once was the great hall, had been converted into a massive, barn-like, training area for lightsaber drills. Other rooms had been converted to the same use, but for smaller groups, as he was certain there would be those who would excel at the lightsaber forms, and those who would need some extra help.

Out of doors, were a dozen different running trails, more practice areas and the soon-to-be-dreaded obstacle course, that Harry had so thoughtfully christened ‘The Grinder’.

Other areas included the farms, orchards, pastures, and more than a few areas set aside for relaxing. A nice little lake of about three square miles area, and fed by a rivulet, was easily reachable by dirt trail. Rafts and small boats were stored in cradles under a wooden awning, and picnic facilities were nearby, with a regulation Quidditch pitch a mile from the castle.

Returning inside, Harry showed them the dining hall, living quarters, and commons areas last. Molly wasn’t sure about having the boy’s and girl’s quarters in such proximity, but Harry said: “Molly, I am asking them to shoulder an adult’s burden, so I will allow them an adult’s freedoms…but I will also require an adult’s responsibilities.”

She was far from convinced, but Arthur intercepted her protest by saying: “Molly we’ve discussed this. We know our children, and we’ve raised them properly…yes, even the twins. You’ll only make the situation worse if you keep this up. Please, Molly, let it go.”

Molly was not one to let go of anything she felt strongly about, but Arthur did have a point. Still, she would be having a little chat with her boys, about responsibility. ~Ginny didn’t need it of course, since…~ Then she realized where that thought was going. She forced her old aspirations out of her head and decided that she would have that talk with Ginny as well and have Arthur speak to the boys.

Games and fun followed. Broomstick races and even a pick-up Quidditch game, where Ron and Hermione were opposing keepers. When he commented on her obvious skills, she returned: “Ronald, just because someone doesn’t care for something, doesn’t mean they can’t do it.”

Neville and Susan proved to be fair chasers as well, while Gred and Forge played their usual position, but truth be told they seemed more interested in playing catch between themselves than anything else.

The game continued until Harry caught the snitch. As Ginny was the opposing seeker, she was rather annoyed, until Harry said: “Ginny, I’ve been playing this position for five years now. It’s simply a bit more experience, is all.”

Their second game was far more one sided. Harry suggested, and they agreed that having and eight person game was silly if the snitch was involved, and so he and Ginny became chasers. Harry’s problem was that he’d never played chaser, and so pretty much sucked at it. That game ended at 190 to 60.

Ginny just had to rub in the salt. She snarked: “Don’t worry, Harry. It’s just a bit of experience, is all.”

“Shaddap!” He mock-growled. Laughter followed from all sides.

Even the weather cooperated. It remained hot, if a little breezy. The barbeque was a tremendous success with all the guests, and so, fed and happy, they all went into the dining hall to convey their gifts on Harry.

Presents from his friends included: ‘The Illustrated Kama Sutra’ from Hermione, and Newt Scamander’s book ‘Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them’, from Luna, though Harry thought that one might have been more aimed at Hermione than him. They had been getting along better since their meeting at 12 Grimmauld, but Luna still liked to fluster the brunette by coming up with the names of ‘interesting’ creatures.

Though the Grangers were absent, Mackenzie had sent Harry a combat knife, like the one he’d been sharpening three days before. His note read:


You should never be without this. It’s non-magical,
and if somehow your other weapons are taken it could
well be your life. Call it an emergency escape device.”

From Judith, an appointment card for a dental exam. Hermione laughed as Harry paled. At the others’ inquisitive glances, she explained: “Trolls, basilisks, werewolves, dementors, and dragons are just part of his life, but he’s terrified of seeing the dentist.” Happy laughter followed.

Arthur handed Harry a box. Inside were two spoon shaped clock hands. One had his face and the other, Hermione’s. For the first time, in a very long time, Harry felt a tear creep down his cheek. When Hermione saw the present, she also let a few go. Again, Molly gathered them up in her arms, and held them warmly.

Ron gave him a jersey from his favorite team’s most famous seeker, Smedly Wailbourne…the only seeker in history, to ever have been knocked off his broom by the snitch. Harry smiled at his friend’s obsession, and told him it would hang in a place of honor.

From the twins, came a series of rather unusual bedroom toys, which made Hermione blush tomato red, and a bottle of sensual massage oil they’d relabeled as ‘Crochrubb’s Broomstick Polish’.

Harry turned to the lone female Weasley child. “And how do you feel about this, Ginny? My being with Hermione? I know you’ve had a crush on me.”

“I’m OK with it, Harry.” She replied truthfully. “It turns out, that was one of the compulsions that had been placed on me by someone I won’t bother to name.” She handed him a small box wrapped in paper.

“Ron, the twins and Hermione, all muttered sotto voce: “Dumbledore!” which had the rest of them laughing

Harry opened the gift to find the battered remains of Tom Riddle’s diary. He gaped in surprise.

“How did you get this?”

“Dumbledore gave it to me. The day after you brought me out of the chamber, he handed this to me and told me it was proof of your love. He said: “Miss Weasley, if ever you needed proof of Harry’s undying love for you, the fact that he destroyed the shade trying to possess you, at nearly the cost of his own life, would be that proof.” Ginny aped Dumbledore’s voice nearly as well as Harry.

“Daddy found some compulsions on it too, so we took it to the DoM, and asked Mister…well, one of the people there, had them removed, and now it’s just a keepsake.”

“Oh, Ginny. Thank you, sweetie.” He gathered her up in a warm embrace and kissed her cheek.

Susan actually gave him a gift that was both practical and not a joke. An Auror quality wand holder. Harry grinned widely, as he strapped it to he arm. As soon as he slid the length of holly into the sheath, it vanished. He could still feel it, but nobody else could see it. A blushing hug followed.

She also handed him a note from her Aunt Amelia, who informed him that she’d finished the investigation of the ministry and learned that fully half the Wizengamot was compromised. While a few were active supporters, and had been arrested, there were far too many of the governing council’s members who felt Voldemort’s agenda was the correct one. Steps had already been taken to neutralize those with the most influence. Graswold’s assistance in sequestering the funds of the thirteen captured Death Eaters, would help immensely in that effort. Without that funding, Voldemort was limited in his actions…for the time being.

Almost as many of the ministry employees were also under Voldemort’s direction or influence, with not a few of them being in thrall to Albus Dumbledore.

Kingsley had been horribly embarrassed to learn that his vaunted ‘Leader Of The Light’, had placed behavioral compulsions on him, forcing him to spy on the ministry and report classified information to the old meddler. Amelia said she’d had to put him in a body bind, when he’d discovered the presence of the compulsions. According to her, his language was worse than a south London dockyard worker!

Alas, laws written by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, had loopholes written in that made pretty much anything he did or wanted to do, perfectly legal. As Harry had implied two weeks before; Dumbledore wrote the laws to benefit himself, not the wizarding world.

Still, seeing as Amelia was actually doing something about the problem, Kingsley was more than happy to report the comings and goings of Dumbledore and to a lesser extent, his Order, to his boss.

Neville gave him a selection of herbal teas and aromatic candles for relaxing. Harry knew this gift would come in very handy.

Augusta sent a note telling him she had been named head of the Wizengamot due to Dumbledore’ s ‘unfortunate circumstance’. Harry could almost hear her laughing at that.

She promised to cooperate wherever she could with Amelia’s efforts to remove those influenced by the dark lord.

Tonks arrived with a bang…literally. She apparated into the next room, but fell against the door, which swung open depositing her on the floor. In her hands were two wrapped presents and two envelopes. Harry opened the packages, to find two more books. ‘Sexual Positions for the Discerning Hedonist, by Anton Y. Zaffuto, and ‘Gettin’ it on, for Dummies’. As before, Harry and Hermione flushed deep red. It appeared that all their friends had discovered their relationship…not that they were keeping it a secret…and weren’t going to let it go!

Remus couldn’t be there as the full moon was only the night before, so he sent a card and a gift certificate for Honeydukes.

Her second envelope contained orders from Madam Bones assigning her to Harry as bodyguard for the duration of the emergency. It also contained a note from the Minister indicating she’d taken on Rufus Scrimgeour as her Senior Under-Secretary, on the advise of Sun-Tzu, which Harry had quoted not long before. “Keep your friends close, and your enemies even closer.”

Minerva emerged from the floo then, and with a sad smile, handed him an envelope, and an identical one to Hermione.

“These were sent out on the tenth and were supposed to have been delivered no later than the fifteenth.” She told them. “I found them in the headmaster’s office only the evening before yesterday. You should have gotten them long ago.” “I am sorry.”

“Not your doing, or your fault.” Harry soothed. “It’s just the old man trying for a bit more control.” Inwardly he was seething. Not for himself, but for Hermione. She’d been worried sick over her results…or lack thereof, since the middle of the month.

As he’d predicted, he’d gotten O’s and EE’s for most of his classes, two being O’s ‘with distinction’ in DADA and Charms. For Harry, Charms was a real surprise. Minerva was quite pleased at Harry’s EE in Potions as well as his O in her own class.

Hermione of course, had swept the board. Solid O’s except one EE, because she’d mistranslated one rune. Still, Minerva said she would appeal the grade, seeing as how one mistranslation out of nearly three hundred questions shouldn’t be enough to lower a grade level.

The kicker, however, was Carolyn, who handed him a single piece of parchment. It was a stock certificate entitling him to sixty percent of The Daily Prophet.

At his face splitting grin, she smiled and said: “When I mentioned that I knew that they knew of ‘dear’ Rita’s animorphic abilities and I mentioned the penalties of both not disclosing such information, and making a profit from such use, they folded like a cheap robe. I also mentioned that the new minister and I were on a first name basis, in case they were interested… I bought up seventy five percent of the preferred shares. I kept fifteen percent to avoid the appearance of a monopoly.”

“Outstanding. Divide this up and give an equal share to each of the ladies. That’ll keep them off our backs, and on Dumbledore’s.”

As an afterthought, he added: “And find Rita. If she’s going to be writing her tripe, I want her writing it for me!”


That evening, Harry and Hermione managed to give Voldemort a headache far beyond any he’d so far experienced.


1 Aug:

Once again, Harry and Dobby entered the cellar, and sat before one of the huge forges. His time they had a specific stone in mind and would focus on it only.

Sinking into the force, they joined minds again. Harry found it surprisingly easy this time. Dobby mentally smiled.

Focusing on the forge they both worked on creating a single stone. The ferrite impurities were mixed into the powdered quartz, and then the whole mass was melted to an amorphous blob at nearly four thousand degrees, and a pressure of hundreds of tonnes to the square centimeter. Careful and deliberate manipulations with the force, urged the stone to grow, molecule by molecule, precisely as they wanted. Atoms joined and lattices were formed to strengthen the stone and enhance energy flow through the crystalline structure.

When stone had grown sufficiently, Harry spun it and had Dobby shave it to the proper shape. Inspecting it very carefully he had Dobby do the same. Though they’d created a different type of crystal than before, the stone was simpler than the duplex crystals Harry preferred. They found no defects. He had the little elf incise the six focusing grooves along the sides of the cone, and then, forming a force-bubble filled with super-hot nitrogen around the rock, opened the forge, lifted the stone and floated it to the preset oven. Closing the door and sealing it, he opened a valve, which filled the chamber with more nitrogen, and when the gas had reached an acceptable temperature, he released the force bubble. Dobby kept the stone floating in place until another elf relieved him. Once done, Harry and Dobby retired to the lounge above, where their mates waited anxiously.

“How long?” He croaked through a throat that hadn’t been used in some time.

“Two days, eleven hours, seventeen minutes.” Hermione replied, handing him a restorative.

“Good. Nap time.” Harry quaffed the restoring dose and walked steadily to his bed. Dobby did he same.

Nine hours later he woke, ravenous. Heading down the stairs, he aimed for the kitchen.

Hermione and Mackenzie were there, discussing the handling of lightsabers versus the Katana, when Harry entered.

“Harry!” Hermione was ecstatic. “You’re awake! How do you feel? She propelled herself from her chair and into his arms.

He rewarded her with a deep kiss, but seeing as her father was present, Harry kept it more ‘polite’ than he otherwise would have. Breaking the kiss, he answered her question.

“Hungry! I need food. He headed toward the chill-box, but Winky intercepted him.

You will go sit down, and Winky will prepare your breakfast!” She thrust a mug of something hot and spicy into his hand had shoved him back toward the table.

“What is it with me and bossy females?” Harry wondered. Hermione’s gimlet eye told him he’d asked that question aloud. Figuring he was in trouble anyway, he hissed in unrepentant Parseltongue: ~~Yes, lover, that means you!~~

Immediately she flushed, recalling the times he’d used that ‘gift’, and he knew he’d won…this round. Mackenzie, seeing her response, howled with laughter!


Luna had informed him that evening that Fawkes had recovered well and he was ready to help Harry remove Dumbledore’s influence from the wizarding world. Together they all worked out the details. For the time being, while the bond between himself and Luna had formed, the bond to Dumbledore still existed. He would have to pretend to remain loyal to Dumbledore. That meant he would have to remain in close proximity to the one who had so disappointed him. He did not like that at all, but Luna’s nurturing would carry him through until the following summer.

Since Fawkes knew he could ignore Dumbledore’s orders, as long as he didn’t openly defy his bonded, the phoenix felt he had a space to breathe, should he need one.

Harry told Fawkes what he needed him to do, and Luna managed to make a silly game of it.


On the fifth, Harry asked Luna to ask Fawkes to bring the sorting hat to him when Dumbledore was out of his office.

An hour later, Fawkes appeared in a burst of fire, bearing the sorting hat, as he had so long before. Harry greeted the hat politely and then set to business.

“I’d like to play a little practical joke on Dumbledore. Do you think you could help?”

“Aah, Mister Potter! I recall seeing this side of you from my brief foray into your mind. It seems to have developed, but then, without the Dursley's to inhibit it, I’d say that was to be expected. As the Weasley twins have discovered, I am not adverse to pranks now and again and Albus has certainly earned one! What kind of joke do you have in mind?

“Here.” Harry held up a sheet of parchment for the hat to read. “Have a look at this.”

The sorting hat scanned the words on the page. Snickers began, followed by chuckles and full-out laughter!

“Oh, My!” The hat panted. “This would be worth it just to see Albus’ expression!”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Let’s not be hasty! I stand to get into some serious trouble, here! What’s in it for me?”

“Well, as I see it, you’d be in no danger.”

“Of destruction, no. He needs me to sort the students. But I’d have to endure a year or more of his incessant whinging!”

“Oh!” Harry sighed. “I hadn’t thought of that. Damn! I wouldn’t want to put up with that either.”

“Oh, I never said I wouldn’t do it.” The hat interrupted. “I simply asked how it would benefit me. Make me an offer!”

Suddenly Harry was a lot happier. “OK. How about this? Harry lifted the hat and slipped in a piece of shimmering fabric inside. From the look of bliss on the hat’s face, Harry knew he’d won.

“Mmmm, yes!” The hat sighed. “Oh, that’s so nice! Acromantula silk?”

“Mmm Hmmm! The very finest to be had. Aragog’s children collected the silk, he gave it to Hagrid, and Hagrid brought it to me. I can get it made for a perfect fit. Fully lined.” He tempted.

Seeing as he’d been caught, the hat choked…then agreed. “It’s even worth it to hear him complain.”

As soon as the sorting hat had memorized the words on the page, Harry had Winky measure him inside and out, before asking Fawkes to return him to the school.


The sixth of August had Harry talking to Amelia Bones. Their discussion included the steps she was taking to reduce the influence Voldemort and his animals had over the wizarding world to a bare minimum. Delacour had provided one hundred sixty Gendarmes for incorporation into the Auror force. Her own depleted Aurors would desperately need the influx. He also informed her that the directors of the Spanish La Guardia Mágico and the Italian Polizia dell'arcano, would also have people ready for instant transport to Britain should they be called upon. Her people groused at the idea of having to learn new languages, but when she’d told them what Voldemort had in mind, they’d clammed up pretty quickly.

Delacour himself was at the meeting, and wanted to meet the young man who’d made such an impression on his daughters. Fleur had been so embarrassed at her reaction to seeing him for the first time, but had learned to think of him as her equal...if not her superior, something Jean Claude would never have thought possible! His youngest, Gabrielle, wanted to marry the boy! Here current boyfriend, the ten year old, Joachim du Bellay, would grow red at any mention of the British wizard.

On a down note, Harry learned that Rufus Scrimgeour had had Stan Shunpike arrested for being a Death Eater, and sent directly to Azkaban. When asked why, Scrimgeour said: “There was evidence that Shunpike was a Death Eater.” Harry was outraged by the injustice.

“Voldemort’s crew aren’t the brightest lamps in the room but even he has standards!” He snarled at the leonine former Auror. “Stan is an idiot in search of a village. He’s no more a Death Eater than you are! In fact, I’d suspect you, before him!”

“How dare you? You miserable little…child. Chosen one or not, you are just an ignorant little boy, and I demand an apology!” Scrimgeour snatched out his wand, only to find himself staring at a lit lightsaber an inch from his nose.

“Rufus! Stand down! You are way out of line! It appears that you and I will be having a little chat about abuse of power! Harry please put that away. I fear it is frightening our guests.”

Harry called Scrimgeour’s wand to him, handed it to Amelia, and shut down the energy weapon. He knew he’d made a deadly enemy, but he couldn’t get the vision of poor stupid Stan Shunpike beset by hungry dementors, out of his head.

Delacour’s daughters had described Harry Potter as a genuine Chevalier, but he’d wanted to see this for himself.

He had. Surprisingly this unexpected demonstration was enough to convince him that he’d made the right choice. Not only was this Harry Potter an exceptionally powerful wizard, wielding wandless magicks like he’d done, but also he was a humanist. He believed in equality for all. Such men were rare.


As soon as Harry left the ministry, he made a beeline to The Daily Prophet. He was through the doors, and into the business office long before anybody decided to challenge him. When the challenge did come, it was from Aloysius Euwings himself. The editor had just returned from his meeting with the owners. They’d informed him that that bitch, Chapman had threatened to expose their foreknowledge of Skeeter’s animagus abilities, unless they sold her all the paper’s outstanding preferred shares…‘for a client’…at a discount!

“Hello, son, can I help you? You really oughtn’t be traipsing around the building like that. Some places here can be very dangerous to the unwary.”

“Oh have no fear, Mister Euwings. I’m about as wary as they come. In fact, I’ve come specifically to speak with you.” Harry returned, annoyed at the editor’s condescension.

“Well, I’m very busy. Unless you have an appointment, I’m afraid I can’t make time just now.”

“Not even for the person who controls seventy five percent of your paper’s stock?”

Euwings’ eyes widened. First at the numbers Harry quoted and then as he recognized the-boy-who-lived.

“Mister Potter!” He called out, hoping to attract the attention of at least one of his reporters. Alas, no one arrived.

Harry smirked as he gestured toward Euwings’ office. “The silencing and notice-me-not charms I cast will prevent any of our employees from interfering. Shall we?”

Euwings sighed. It had been such a good idea! He entered his office and waited.

“I want you to re-hire Rita Skeeter.”

“Absolutely not!” Euwings spat.

“Why?” Harry challenged. Euwings knew he was over a barrel. He hated airing his laundry but this young man could easily destroy the paper he’d put so much of his life into. He sighed: “If you must know, Albus Dumbledore threatened to kill me, my wife and my children if I ever printed anything he didn’t like, again. He also implied he would have my granddaughter Mayble raped by the children of ‘suspected’ Death Eaters who attend Hogwarts, and insisted I fire Rita.” He pointed to the rosewood doors behind him. Harry turned to see the scowling face of the old manipulator etched into the door. A quick scan with the force told him the image also contained a monitoring charm. If Albie was watching just now, he could be here in a few minutes.

“I can take care of that. If you allow, I can have the goblins cast their version of the Fidelus, on this building and the homes of all our employees. Then you can rake as much muck as you want, but from time to time, you’ll be focusing on whom I tell you. Is your Granddaughter safely away from Hogwarts?”

“Yes. I have her at Beauxbatons.”

“Good. Madam Maxime doesn’t like Dumbledore any better than you do. If he tries to get her back, she’ll hold him off. If he pushes, Misuer Delacour will get involved…and trust me, Dumbley doesn’t want Delacour involved.”

“You can really protect all the employees?”

“Ep. It’ll take some gold but I have plenty. Graswold tells me they can all be set before nightfall.”

And the owners?”

“That’s your problem. Tell them, or not, as you wish. If they want, I can ask Graswold to do their homes too. He doesn’t particularly like them, because of their attitude toward the goblins, but they both have plenty of gold. I’m sure he can be…‘reasonable’.”

Somehow, Euwings wasn’t reassured by Harry’s rather feral grin.

Casting a disillusionment charm on himself, Harry walked form the building. Apparently Dumbledore had had better things to do than monitor the goings on in the editor’s office of The Daily Prophet. He walked directly to Gringotts, where he greeted the two goblin guards, by title, and returned their salute. Within, he walked past the tellers entirely, and down the hall to Graswold’s office, garnering gasps from other customers at his temerity.

Harry had more tact than to just waltz into the office of the head of a sovereign nation, so he waited in the small open area just outside, until the armed goblins took notice of him. It didn’t take long.

//HaihRiegh.\\ One growled. //While you are a person of note, it is unseemly to simply walk into the Den of the most honored Dak.\\

//I apologize for that, Bladecaster, but wasted time profit's no one.\\

What could the goblin say? It was one of the basic tenets of life.

//I shall announce you.\\

Graswold called him in and looked up. //HarhReigh, has your business gone well?\\

//It has. I am in need of your warding crews to safeguard the homes of the employees of The Daily Prophet.\\

//Why waste your gold on such as they?\\

//It’s never a waste to safeguard a valuable resource. The Prophet is such a resource, if for nothing more than propaganda. Dumbledore has a stranglehold on the owners and editor. I have just removed that hold, and intend to turn his fingers inward to his own throat.\\

//And the cost?\\

//Since they will be working for me from now on, I feel it a price well paid.\\

//Very well.\\

Their discussion didn’t last long. Merely the names, locations and instructions to ward the homes. Graswold agreed and quietly gave Harry a discount as a ‘preferred customer’. He knew his investment would bring dividends untold.

Leaving the bank, Harry apparated from Diagon Alley to Potter Castle, where he described the day’s meetings to his beloved.

Dinner followed with much levity between he four, before they all retired.


7 Aug:

“Master Harry Potter, Sir!” Came Dobby’s squeaky voice. Harry groaned as he opened his eyes. Hermione was once again wrapped around him in a loving embrace.

“Dobby.” He rasped. “What’s up?”

“Dobby is bringing you some news, Harry Potter sir!” Dobby handed him his usual cuppa. Harry sipped the hot beverage and swirled it around his mouth before swallowing.

“What news?”

“Dobby and the force sensitive elves is finished making the first nine focusing crystals!”

That brought Harry’s eyes to full open position!

“I thought it would take another day or so!” He exclaimed. Hermione sat up, yawned and stole his tea.

“Dobby started three days ago.” The little elf explained. “Dobby has taught the other elves what they needs to know and now they can make the stones by theyselves.”

“Outstanding job, Dobby! You’re a wonder!”

Dobby began to wail about how generous and kind his beloved master was. Hermione finished his tea and hopped out of the bed, headed for the loo. “If you're not in the shower with me, you'll have to scrub your own back!”

“Excuse me, Dobby, I have a pressing appointment!” Harry sprinted to the loo where Hermione was just turning on the water.


In Little Hangleton, a snakelike man whimpered in pain. Severus was sequestered in the castle, on the orders of that muggle-loving fool, and his supply of the headache remedy had been exhausted.


A well-scrubbed and happy Hermione left the shower, followed by an equally pleased Harry. They dressed and met Dobby and Winky in the dining room. Soon enough they’d be transferring the entire operation to the castle, but for now, 12 Grimmauld was a nice, centrally located contact point.

Breakfast followed, and Dobby presented nine identical citrine focusing crystals. Harry picked up one and looked into its structure. After a second, he placed it back on its mat.

“Outstanding job, Dobby. Tell the other elves I’m very pleased. Today, we…” And he looked at Hermione too. “…will be building lightsabers, for Neville, Luna, Susan, Remus, Tonks, and spares for the next students.” He turned to Dobby. “When will the elves be ready to make the next batch?”

“They is ready now, Harry Potter sir.”

“No! They will rest at least one day between each batch. I’ll not have them burning out because they want to please me. Tomorrow is soon enough. We need about fifty more, and as I see it, we have plenty of time.”

Following the meal, they flooed to the castle. Harry invited Winky along. She protested that she had work at Grimmauld, but when he pointed out that if she left it as is, she’d have all that much more to do when she returned, she grinned and joined them. Hermione looked askance at his logic, but understood that he wanted to keep Dobby’s mate in on the fun.

They entered the lab to find fourteen house elves waiting. Each of the small people wanted to boot the humans out and take over, but Harry…and Dobby stood firm. Harry ordered the nine who had just completed the focusing crystals to sleep themselves out, explaining the reason. Each of the elves wept with joy at having such a wonderful, kind and caring master, but instead of leaving immediately, they turned to Dobby, who explained that they had finished the crystals before midnight, and they'd taken the next several hours to sleep. While they understood they had the day off, they would like to remain to learn instead of waiting until tomorrow.

Harry could see the logic. Since they were rested, it would do them no harm to remain awake.

Gathering Hermione and the elves around the bench, Harry began to show each of them what part fitted where. Dobby called the elves with manufacturing experience to his side and began to instruct them in the making of the ordinary hardware, repetitive items such as shells, mounts and brackets.

Three hours later, nine new lightsabers lay on the table. The other elves continued on in their tasks, knowing more than sixty of the things would be needed soon, and more later.

At Harry’s request, one elf produced three polished rosewood boxes just large enough to hold a lightsaber.

Harry tested each of the weapons against the only one he knew was capable…Dobby. Hermione simply had not learned enough just yet. Though she was definitely making inroads into Shii-Cho, she would need practice against a live opponent to understand how a blow against the blade of a lightsaber would affect her, and he had no desire to introduce her to that effect with a nasty burn. She watched from the side as Harry and Dobby sparred. It wasn’t lightning fast, or particularly flashy, but it was full strength. Harry had to be certain the blades would withstand the rigors of combat.

A half hour with each blade, assured him they would. With a grim smile, he took five and left the others on the bench. Harry placed three of the weapons in the boxes. The other two, he stuffed into his pockets.

“Hermione?” He called out. She looked at him startled, as she’d been practicing her katas for the past two hours. She shut down her weapon and turned to face him.

“It’s time to go, love. Do you want to join me as I deliver some lightsabers?”

A smile graced her lips and she nodded. Belting her weapon, she joined him.

Tumbling from the floo at Grimmauld, Hermione said: “I smell dreadful. I’m going to shower and change before we leave. I’d suggest you do, too!”

Harry agreed, and after a brief bout of tickling, they emerged from their shower, smelling much sweeter than when they had entered.

In his room, Harry picked up the two unboxed weapons and placed them into his bureau, before dressing and heading down the stairs. Hermione joined him a minute later.

“Who first? Neville, Luna, or Susan?” She asked.

“Well Susan’s closer, but I promised Neville. It’s his birthday present.”

“OK, to the Longbottom Manor we go!”

Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, Harry called out: “Longbottom Manor!” and stuck his head through.

“Hello Harry!” Amelia Bones greeted him.

“Hi, Amelia.” Harry replied. “Mind if we come through?”

“Hold on.” Amelia disappeared, to return with Augusta.

“Lord Gryffindor.”

“Madam Longbottom.” Harry returned the greeting. “May we come through?”

“Of course. My home is yours.”

“Thank you.” Harry turned to Hermione and nodded. Casting another pinch of powder into the fire, he called out: “Longbottom manor!” and whirled away. Hermione followed a moment later.

Harry wobbled as he spun to a stop, but he didn’t fall. He stepped aside just as Hermione spun to a halt where he’d been moments before.

“Lord Gryffindor. Lady Granger. Welcome to my home.” Augusta greeted them. Hermione cast cleaning spells on them before Harry could think of it.

“We thank you, Madam Longbottom. We're here to bring Neville his birthday gift.”

“Of course. Nipsy!” The liveried House elf Harry recalled from before, appeared with a quiet pop. “You has called for Nipsy, Lady Longbottom?”

“Yes, Nipsy. Would you inform Lord Longbottom he has guests?” To Harry She added: Would you join me in some tea?”


“Nipsy will do.” The elf vanished, to return a minute later.” Lord Longbottom and Missy Susan is at present in his greenhouse. They is repotting some Flutterby bushes. They will be done is fifteen minutes or less.”

“Thank you Nipsy. Please have them clean up and then join us in the conservatory for tea.”

“You know, Harry, if we were to call Luna, Remus and Tonks, we could get them together and present the lightsabers all at once.” Hermione suggested.

“It’s more than just giving it to him, Hermione, it’s his birthday present.”

Hermione blushed.

Neville and Susan joined them quickly.

“You did get the flutterby’s planted, didn’t you?” Harry snarked. Hermione and Susan giggled, Amelia laughed and even Augusta both covered her lips to hide a smile.

“Yes, we got them planted.” Neville shot back, his face a bright red.

“Good. We may need them. In the meanwhile, I have a gift for you. Happy Birthday, mate.”

He handed Neville a wooden box of dark red wood. A box not unlike that of a wand, but larger and much heavier. Neville almost stopped breathing.

“Go on, then.” Harry urged.

Neville opened the box to find a silver and black cylinder, so much like the one that depended from Harry’s belt.

He withdrew the weapon almost reverently, set the rosewood box on the table, and stood back. Making sure there was room around him, he thumbed the lightsaber to life. With a snap-hiss, the golden beam flashed to life and settled into a steady hum. Neville was enraptured. Augusta was astounded and Amelia was amazed. Susan was grinning to split her face, and when Hermione presented her with her own box, the grin clearly showed her back teeth. Like Neville, she withdrew the weapon and stepped to a safe place. Thumbing it to life, she also seemed mesmerized by the blade.

Harry, Hermione Augusta and Amelia all watched as the newest of Harry’s students gazed in fascination at the golden beams.

The spell was broken by Augusta asking: “I noticed the blades are the same color as Lady Granger’s. Why is that?”

With a wave, Harry shut down the two lightsabers, and turned to face the Longbottom dowager.

“There were two reasons. First, we had to make the crystals. Since each of them takes three days to make, it’s more time efficient to make them from one template. It also makes it easier to ensure there are no faults it the gems. The same thing holds to the style of grip. Since each is the same, it’s easier and less time involved making them, than sixty different versions. The second is to differentiate between skill levels. Since these are training units, they can be standardized. As each of my students reaches a set plateau, I’m thinking the end of Soresu or the middle of Ataru, I’ll have them create a lightsaber of their own, which fits their own personality."

“And these ones?”

“This one is a gift, and I expect Neville will want to keep it, rather like a first wand; the same thing goes for Susan, and later today, Luna. However, the rest of the students will be requested to return them to the academy when they’ve made their own, for use by the next group of students. Theirs will be fully functional lightsabers, and so won’t need a training unit anymore.”

“Why aren’t these fully functional units?” Amelia wanted to know.

“For the same reason you wouldn’t hand a wand to a baby. The students will be learning on these and I want no accidents.”

“I see.”

“Who else gets one today?” Neville asked.

“Luna Lovegood.” Harry replied. “In fact, we were about to go over to The Rookery.”

“Better not.” Amelia suggested. “I understand Dumbledore is in Ottery just now. Let me call her on the floo an see if she can come here instead.” Neville interrupted and said: “It’s better I do it. If you do, and he finds a way to intercept the call, he’ll know something’s up. Me…I’m just another student.”

“Very good thinking, Neville.” Augusta was so happy at the turnaround her grandson had made and these two young people standing before her were the reason. She couldn’t thank them enough!

Harry and Hermione stood to the sides to avoid being seen as Neville threw in the powder and called: “The Rookery!”

“Luna answered almost immediately. “Oh, hello Neville. Harry’s finished the lightsabers, then?”

Harry and Hermione just gaped as Neville invited Luna over. She spun to a stop and daintily dusted her self off.

“Hello Harry, Hello Hermione. Congratulations, by the way.”


“On your betrothal.”

“Ummm, Luna…”

“Oh don’t worry, Harry I haven’t told anyone. On the other hand, everyone at the party last week saw the Potter ring on Hermione’s hand. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Just now, Professor Dumbledore is looking for my house, but the wards really don’t like him much, so they’re keeping it hidden from him. He’s been trying to coerce the Weasleys to help him again, but Mr. Weasley is very angry with him and Mrs. Weasley is absolutely livid.”

Hermione just gaped, until Harry snickered and she rewarded him with an elbow to the stomach. Neville had no such difficulty and laughed out loud, followed by Susan and Amelia. Augusta maintained her rigid control, but Harry could see in her eyes that she wanted to erupt in mirth.

He handed the wooden box to Luna who opened it and withdrew the weapon within. Examining it carefully, she thumbed it on. “Citrine. My favorite stone.” She smiled at the golden beam. The adults simply stared. Harry and Hermione, and to a lesser extent, Neville and Susan, had grown used to Luna’s particular vagaries, and so were only a little amazed.

“Ummm…So.” Neville broke the silence. “When do we start training?”

“Right now, if your gran and Madam Bones have no objection.” Harry replied.

The ladies in question both shook their heads and so Neville led the group out into the sun, where they formed an arc. Harry stood in the apex and began to demonstrate the basic positions of Shii-Cho. Hermione had already progressed to the fifty-fourth position, and so, helped him correct grips and balances.

By the end of the afternoon, Neville and Susan both learned a respectable three positions each, right and left handed by the time they were done. Luna learned seven. Harry was actually embarrassed.

Saying good-bye, they each headed toward their own homes and dinners.


Harry’s hardest job over the next weeks was to convince the families of his chosen warriors, to allow their children to participate. In many cases, it was easy. Many of the parents were as disgusted by the parochial and bigoted attitudes their children had faced every day, that they were anxious to do anything to bring it to an end. Harry provided that method. He demonstrated his ability to use the force, and then had their children to the same. Since most were either muggleborne or half-bloods, they were familiar with the cinema and as such could see the advantages.

Others, usually those families with an old line pureblood included, were not as accepting. Harry had his work cut out for him. Logic and reason worked at times, emotional responses at others. One particularly difficult-to-convince father, was Rahjit Patil. Arguments followed by rebuttals, continued throughout the night, until Harry realized the man was trying to get him to alter his position toward purebloods. The Patil’s paternal line was as old a line of purebloods as any in Britain and the maternal line was nearly as long. He’d been listening to Dumbledore’s rhetoric and a friend of his had witnessed Harry’s attack in the Wizengamot. He felt that Harry could end up as a dark lord rising.

“Mister Patil. Voldemort wants to control the entire world. He’s not going to be satisfied with just this little corner. When he has Britain, he’s gonna want more. Calais is only thirty miles away. When he has Calais, he’ll spread out like a disease. I can bring him down, but I need help. If you absolutely refuse, then I cannot force you, but I think you, of all people should understand what he’d do to anybody who is different than he is. Padma and Parvati, for all their ancient lineage, are considered to be mugglebornes, due to his bigotry. He sees mugglebornes as anathema, and something to be destroyed.

How many times have I knocked Draco Malfoy…son of one of Voldemort’s chief lieutenants…on his arse, for calling either of them a mudblood? I have no problem with purebloods, full bloods, half bloods, or mugglebornes. I am not here to eliminate the lineages. I am here to eliminate Voldemort and his supporters. That’s all. I intend to train intensively for the next year, under Fidelus, with all the people I know who can use the force, and when the year is over, I intend to select those most able, and face him and his troops. He will die, I promise, even if I die with him, he will be destroyed completely.”

“Then what do you need the girls for?”

Suddenly Harry understood. Mr. Patil was concerned about his daughters’ chastity. Unfortunately both Parvati and Padma also understood, and glared in shock at their father. Harry felt a bit of empathy for the Indian businessman, as he knew the man was going to get an earful from his daughters…and judging by their expressions, his wife and mother as well!

“The Death Eaters.” Harry answered. “So far I and my allies, have cost him almost fifty. He’s currently got around a hundred fifty left and he’s going to be recruiting. I figure by next June, he’s going to have around three hundred and fifty. My Jedi will deal with them, until I finish Ol’ Snakey off. After that I’ll help to eliminate the remaining Deez…assuming there are any left.”

“You’re going to kill them all?”

“I’ll give them one chance to surrender, but yes, that’s my intention.”

“These are people, Lord Potter.” Rahjit was appalled. “They should be tried, and if convicted, then punished, but by a jury…not by a single person.”

“Mr. Patil, do you know how a Death Eater ‘earns the right’ to wear his mark?”

“I’d heard rumours.”

“Those rumours were most likely correct. Now, I’m going to spell it out for you, so you’ll understand exactly what we’re up against. Each and every one of his servants, and that’s what he calls them, must torture, rape, usually repeatedly, and then murder a muggle or muggleborne, usually a young woman or a girl…Draco’s chosen victim was eight. They have to do this in front of Voldemort and if they make it ‘interesting’ to watch, they gain extra status. Draco is ‘highly favored’, just now. Turns out he put on quite the show.”

All the Patils were sickened by Harry’s narration…none more so than Harry himself, for he’d been ‘invited’ to watch Draco’s ‘performance’ in his previous lifetime.

“As for taking this into my own hands, I have permission from the Queen herself to take any measures I see necessary to protect the realm.”

All the Patils fell silent.

“We are in a war. A war of terrorism and butchery. It sucks, but there it is. Your suggestion that the Deez be captured and tried won’t work. It’s been tried before…many times. Every time a British pureblood is captured in this country…even in the act, he passes the sitting minister a bagful of gold and claims ‘Imperius’. Madam Bones won’t let that happen this time, but while she’s minister just now, she could be assassinated at any moment. We’ve taken steps to prevent that but it is still a serious risk.

Understand this, Voldemort hates muggles with a passion. I’m convinced that Albus Dumbledore was instrumental in developing that hatred. He hates mugglebornes even more, as mugglebornes are living proof that his theory of pureblood supremacy is rubbish. Hermione Granger is second only to myself, on his kill-as-slowly-and-painfully-as-possible list. Even Dumbledore isn’t as high. He sees her ability to use magics so much better than the vast majority of purebloods, as a personal slap in the face. Hypocritical if you ask me, given that he’s a half-blood himself.”

“A half-blood?”

“Oh yes. Voldemort is a half-blood. His father was a muggle named Tomas Riddle. His mother was a witch. Somehow, and I’m not certain how, she managed to ensnare him. My thought is potions, but that’s just a guess. Now, later on, he abandoned her, maybe she forgot to give him his dose, and she ended up in London, alone, very pregnant and without any support. She found herself on the steps of an orphanage…or workhouse, since there really wasn’t much difference back then, where she delivered her baby, named him and died. His name was Tom - Marvolo - Riddle. Padma, you’re good at anagram’s…”

It didn’t take long. Padma thought for a few seconds and then paled. “I am Lord Voldemort!”


Silence reigned for a moment, until; Patil spoke again.

“Alright, you’ve explained, why. Now, how?’

“I beg your pardon?”

“How are you going to defeat this monster? And yes, I am fully aware of what Voldemort is. How are you and your selected people going to avoid his favorite curses? How can you protect my daughters from death…or worse?”

“The answers to your questions are, in order, with this…” He held up his lightsaber. “By training. Last year’s scores should tell you that I am an acceptable teacher of defense. I will be teaching them to protect them against attack, magical, physical and mental. A great deal of that training will be with this…” Again, Harry indicated his lightsaber. “…and I won’t. They’ll be protecting themselves. You consider yourself to be a fair duelist, yes?” Harry knew he was pushing buttons, but he had to make Patil understand his position. While he could do the job without the twins, he’d prefer to have them along.

“A fair duelist?” Rahjit was offended! “I was dueling champion for seven years in India and international champion twice!”

“Great. You duel me. You and your wand, me and my lightsaber. You win, I leave. I win, you think about my offer.”

Rahjit agreed. They stepped into a dueling area behind his house, and waited. Harry sank into the force, and just stood there with his lightsaber in his hand. Sanavi gave the count. At one, Rahjit exploded into action.

Curses flew at nearly the speed of thought. Dumbledore would have been hard pressed to keep up. Harry let the force flow through him, and his lightsaber acted nearly on it’s own, deflecting and blocking all the curses, hexes and spells. Even the Killing Curse. Harry swung and the green jet of light rebounded from he emerald shaft and into the ground. A force powered shove separated Rahjit from his wand and sent him flying through the air to fetch up against the stone wall.

Sanavi screamed and raced toward her husband only to be held back by something she’d never felt before. It was like the arms of her mother when she was about to fall as a child. Nothing like the binding hexes used in this country.

“Harry strode to the unconscious man and un-gently pulled up his sleeves. Only bare flesh showed. A deep scan into the man’s thoughts told him he was definitely not a supporter of the Dark Lord, but his use of the killing curse was merely the last part of his test. Rahjit felt that if Harry could survive that, he would be good enough to teach his precious daughters.

Harry gently lifted the man and floated him inside. Sanavi found herself freed, and so, hurried after.

She found her man on the settee with Harry touching his forehead in a peculiar grip.

As soon as she’d entered, he lifted his fingers and moved away.

Seconds later Rahjit opened his eyes and groaned: “Is anything broken?”

A quick scan followed to show that he did in fact have several minor fractures. Sanavi spat: “A few ribs, your left scapula and your rock-like head!

Rahjit grinned at Harry. “This is how you know a woman loves you.”

“Be glad she does!” Harry replied with a grin of his own. “She looks awfully hacked off!”

Relieved smiles came from the twins.

Rahjit agreed to allow his daughters to join him in his secret training. He agreed to all of Harry’s security policies, including the censorship, which he normally despised, however, he understood the need for security in this dangerous time.

“Mister Patil, since Parvati and Padma are well known as friends of mine, I’d advise you to leave Britain for the next year. While Voldemort’s troops cannot find us, the ministry has your name and address on file. There are so many of his sympathizers there, it’s a fair guess your information would be in Voldemort’s hands the second he wants it.”

Sanavi Gasped in fear, but Rahjit agreed with Harry. He would arrange for his business dealings to be put on hold or be run from elsewhere, and when his daughters went under the Fidelus he would take his household out of this barbaric country!


A/N: I know Harry’s grades in canon were different. I don’t care.

The idea of the silk lining for the sorting hat came from the fertile mind of Seel’vor, one of my favorite FF authors.

La Guardia Mágico & Polizia dell'arcano: Spanish and Italian magical police. (Aurors)

Joachim du Bellay was a poet in 16th century France.

Harry didn’t learn much about Voldemort’s history until Book Sux.
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